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“Sorry, I know it’s late,” Benny said, finally breaking the silence. You stayed stood by the door, not sure where to place yourself.
“It’s okay. Did you need something?” You asked, faking confidence.
Benny only smiled, but you could see something brewing beneath his expression. He looked somewhere between bursting into tears and bursting into laughter. It scared you. You hadn’t seen him this way before.
“You spoke about him today,” He said, and now you knew why this conversation couldn’t have waited until morning. “It just—took me by surprise.”
You let out a huff, staring at the floor. “Wasn’t just you,” You spoke, feeling the tension in the room start to settle. “I don’t know why, I just—,”
“It doesn’t matter why,” He interrupted, and you got the sense he was trying to slow himself down, as not to overwhelm you. “I’m just glad you did.”
He stood up then, taking in a deep breath through his nostrils and staring at the lake. “Can I be honest with you for a second?” He asked, and the breath caught in your throat. You laughed awkwardly, feeling your cheeks blush from your rising adrenaline.
“I thought you were always honest with me,”
“I am,” He said sternly, turning to face you. “But I mean, brutally honest.”
You paused. “Of course.”
“I’m going to ramble, so just—stop me. If I’m being too anything.” You nodded, astounded that he was fighting against his words spilling onto the floor. You’d never seen Benny so worked up about something on his mind, especially when it came to something that he wanted to tell you.
“I feel like for your first three months here, I didn’t actually know you. I knew your name and your family and their history—I knew your father—but every time I tried to place my finger on you, I’d end up with nothing.” He placed a hand to his forehead, trying to make sense of his own thoughts. “It was infuriating, to say the least.”
Infuriating. You didn’t know he’d felt that way about you.
“I wanted to know you—the same way that I know a chessboard is eight squares by eight and the Queen can move anywhere. I still want to know you; it’s like every day I find out something I wasn’t aware of and end up kicking myself because I didn’t see it before,”
Your lip began to quiver. “I’m sorry—,”
“No, don’t be sorry—,” He said quickly, stepping toward you with wide-eyes. “That’s not what I wanted to get across; you don’t owe me any apologies whatsoever. I’m trying to say that I—,” He paused, his eyes glued to your own. His lip curled into a smile. “I’m glad I feel like I know you, now. Like you’ve opened up, or let me in, or something.”
You finally understood that it was odd for Benny to speak so freely like this, to let his words flow. You could tell he struggled with it, with placing his feelings into any kind of sentence. It was something you understood well—
And it only made that warm feeling in your gut grow evermore strong.
“Benny—,”
“I’m sorry if that came out all wrong,” He laughed to himself; you could tell he felt vulnerable.
“It’s—,”
“God I probably sound like an entitled prick.” You didn’t know how else to react to such human behaviour, other than wrapping your arms around his neck. He stopped talking immediately, allowing your head to settle in the nook between his neck and shoulder. When he wrapped his arms around your torso you closed your eyes.
Your smile was from ear to ear, your cheeks the brightest of reds, not that he could see them in the dim light. You felt how fast his heart was racing beneath his ribs and you wondered if his face was the same level of flushed, or even more so.
Benny Watts was an over-thinker—
It was something you’d never even imagined he’d be until you were embracing him, hearing his incessant heartbeat finally beginning to calm down. As it did, he became less rigid, falling deeper into the hug.
When you pulled away, you thought he’d try and avoid your eye, but he didn’t—
He looked right at you, exposed, out in the open, guts spilled all over the rug.
“Do you want a night-cap?” You said, almost patronisingly, as if he were a child who’d just said his first words. He took it light-heartedly, letting out a chuckle.
“Whiskey sounds good right about now.”
You woke early, adrenaline still pumping through your veins after Benny’s impromptu visit to your room the night before. Fresh snow coated the ground outside; the lake had frozen overnight.
You dressed casually, grabbing Wuthering Heights and choosing to sit on the windowsill in the living room, gazing out at the picturesque landscape surrounding Maude’s cabin. A white blanket stretched for miles, making the world so incredibly bright that it was almost blinding to look at.
You sat and you read, not realising how fast the time had gone until Maude emerged from her room. She smiled at you, heading towards the kitchen. “Coffee?”
Benny and Matt later emerged into the living room, chatting away at their plans for the day. “Happy Thanksgiving everyone,” Benny said enthusiastically, sending you a playful look. You were always stunned at how someone so wise and intelligent could look so boyish at certain moments in time—the way his eyes-widened and the grin spread across his face would make anyone think he were still just a boy.
You went back to your book, a half-drunk cup of coffee resting in your lap as you curled up on the sill. “Is there any more coffee?” Benny asked, sliding into a chair at the dining table. Matt picked up the empty pot with a smirk.
“You missed your chance,” He said, chuckling to himself mischievously.
It was quiet for another minute as your eyes slid over the book pages, but that was disturbed when Benny approached, stealing the coffee right out of your lap and depositing himself down beside you.
“Hey—,” You went to protest, but he’d already put his lips to the mug, taking a few large gulps. He handed you back the dregs, shuffling on the sill to slot his legs between the window and your thighs, and leaned back, taking in the view. “I didn’t want it anyway,” You said sarcastically.
Maude clapped from the kitchen, alerting everyone. “The lake froze over last night, so that means you guys better get your skates on,”
“Are you sure you don’t want some help prepping dinner, Maude?” You asked, but she only waved her hands at you in dismissal.
“Go skate—enjoy the ice. I’ve got everything under control.”
It wasn’t long after when the three of you were bundled up in coats and fluffy socks, penguin walking to the lake in your skates. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t incredibly excited at being able to skate. Benny, however, looked less than enthused.
“We do this every year and somehow you still look like a deer in headlights, Watts!” Matt yelled, gliding onto the ice with ease. You stopped at the edge of the lake, looking back at Benny as he held onto a tree uncomfortably.
You stuck your hand out to him, cheeks flushed from the cold, sending him an encouraging smile. He paused to suck in a deep breath before taking your hand in his own, letting you guide him to the edge of the lake.
“Have you skated before?” He said, and you knew he was stalling.
“When I was younger. A friend from school was a competitive figure skater. I’d go to her practice sessions sometimes,”
“Are you any good?” He said curiously, raising his eyebrows innocently in genuine interest.
“Step on the ice with me and you’ll see,”
Benny clutched onto your arm as you took your first step onto the ice, slowly guiding forward to give him some motion. You turned to face him, holding both his hands as you skated backwards, pulling him along with you.
“You’re already going backwards,” He huffed out, his breath curling around his face. “That’s just not fair.”
You tried not to laugh at his expense, but Matt didn’t care. He skated over with ease, hooking his arm with Benny’s and separating him from you. “I’ve got the kid, honey,” He joked, tipping Benny’s hat to see his face—he was positively enraged. “You go. I’ve got him for now,”
You smiled at Benny’s pitiful look and went off on your own, making your way around the perimeter of the small lake. You glided smoothly as you rounded the corners, telling yourself to put one skate in front of the other and not to look down.
You closed your eyes, raising your arms to your sides and feeling the cold air whoosh all around you—
That’s when you let out a yell—
Screaming to the sky as the cold invigorated your lungs and body, waking you up inside and out. You picked up speed after that, lowering your centre of gravity and placing your hands behind your back, going faster and faster until you whizzed past Benny and Matt, hair whipping behind you as you let out another freeing yell.
You straightened out, glancing back at the two boys as you slowed to a smoother pace.
“How the fuck are you good at everything!” Benny yelled, shaking his fists theatrically as Matt skated circles around him.
“I haven’t spent my entire life inside playing chess!” You yelled back, smiling as you approached Benny and latched onto his arm to stop. “Come on, skate with me.” You said, pulling Benny along behind you. He swapped your forearm for your hand as you both glided round a corner, sniffing as the cold air caused his nose to run.
You were patient as he got used to the skates, the ice, the motion of going forward and turning with ease.
“See? You’re a fast learner, you’ve just gotta have faith sometimes.”
“Faith is for five-year olds, and the elderly.” He said sulkily. You inhaled, a thought coming to your mind.
“You put your faith in me, though,” You said, facing forward and avoiding the stare that you knew he’d placed upon you. “Without you I probably would’ve never played chess.”
“You don’t need help with playing chess,” He began, getting into a skating rhythm with you. “You just need to realise you’re good at it.”
You didn’t reply, unknowing of what to say. Instead, you focused on picking up speed. Benny winced as you zoomed forward, tugging him along behind you until he found the momentum to be back by your side.
“Is there a chess board in the cabin?” You asked suddenly. Benny’s eyes widened, and the next thing you knew his skate had caught on the ice, making him trip up immediately—
Bringing you down on top of him.
You both fell, landing with a thud as you continued to glide while not being on skates anymore.
When you’d stopped sliding, you were practically straddling the world champion, as he winced in pain at the burning cold on his fingers, his hat having been flown off his head in the crash. Your cheeks immediately flushed when he opened his eyes, staring at you as you sat on his lap.
Matt died right then and there, laughing so hard he almost fell over himself.
“I— I’m sorry— fuck,” You stuttered out, finding grip with your skates to try and get yourself up.
Benny only pulled you back down, keeping you in place on top of him.
“Say that again.” He said sternly.
“I’m sorry?” You let out, your eyebrows furrowed with a mixture of confusion and mass embarrassment.
“About the chess board.”
You stayed still, feeling him inhale and exhale beneath you. “I want to play.”
Benny sent you his classic smirk. You would have found it charming if you weren’t on top of him.
“Then let’s play.”
The afternoon went by in a whirlwind of black and white. You played Matt first, beating him in less than two dozen moves. He didn’t look disappointed though—he’d basically accepted his defeat as soon as he’d sat down to compete against you.
“Did you win?” Maude said, rushing over to your set up on the living room floor, whipping cream in a bowl tucked beneath her arm.
“That was just a warm-up,” Matt said, sending you an admiring smile. “You haven’t even seen her at her best yet.”
You rolled your eyes at him, but you couldn’t deny that you felt good. It was nice to stretch your fingers and mind again, without twenty pairs of college student eyes staring down your every move. Instead, you had a world champion peering over your shoulder, trying to read your mind.
When Benny sat opposite you, your adrenaline kicked in involuntarily.
There was something about his stare when he was behind a chess board—it was almost predatorial. Benny Watts was a king with a pawn, a rook, a bishop, and he knew he was. It only made him more dangerous.
You could see him kicking himself for still not figuring out your methods. He couldn’t see the story as it unfolded inside your head—neither could you, until the pieces were laid out before you. It was something that just seemed to click, as soon as you saw a board. It would simply come to you—and you’d know immediately where to move.
On a few occasions, you’d simply been lucky. As Benny analysed your games the more you played, you could see the cogs slowly whirring faster and faster behind his eyes. You knew that he was going to try everything to catch you out, as soon as he placed his hand over the clock starter.
“Shall we place bets this time?” He proposed. Matt raised his brows playfully.
“Ma—who do you bet on to win?”
“Oh!” Maude exclaimed from the kitchen. She fussed about, finishing what she was doing, before bounding over to the living room and sitting on the couch armrest. “We’re betting, are we?”
“You know me, Maude,” Benny said, and she only sighed, as if she’d had this conversation with him hundreds of times.
“I bet on Benny to win,” Maude said, and you found yourself smiling at her with slight hurt. She raised her brow at you. “No one beats my son and gets away with it, I’m afraid.”
“I’ve been getting away with it for ten years,” Benny said smugly. Matt smacked him in the chest once, just for good measure.
“I bet on Y/N, because I know she’s gonna whoop your ass,” Matt said matter-of-factly.
“Okay—ten dollars each way,” Benny said, rubbing his hands together. You rolled your eyes at him.
“You’re a child, Benny Watts.”
“A child who’s about to beat you.” A second of silence, and then Benny slammed his hand down on the clock—
It began.
And then it was over—
And you and Matt were ten dollars richer.
Benny didn’t sulk—he never did—but you could feel the heat radiating from him as he scanned the end board for the fiftieth time. It had crossed your mind a few times that you could simply let him win—but you had a feeling that would enrage him.
It was offensive, to put yourself in a position of losing, just so he could take the win. He would’ve seen through you quicker than he’d fallen over on the ice.
Matt and Maude travelled to the kitchen to finish dinner, while you stayed cross-legged, just waiting for Benny to come back to reality.
“How do you do it?” He whispered, his eyes plastered on the fallen king. “I can’t read you—not like I can read Harmon or Borgov. You’re a blank piece of paper.”
You thought about telling him about the way you played—the way the story in your mind guided you to victory after victory. You hadn’t always had the ability, no—it had come with years of observation, of seeing the game played before you, of having the chance of playing taken away from you with every win your father gained.
You were nervous as to how Benny would take it. His mind worked in numbers and figures, in squares and pieces. Yours worked in narrative, an ever-evolving story happening right in front of you with every piece you moved.
You knew the methods—the plays—the gambits, the levels, the defences. That was all ingrained within you. When it came to playing, it was a reflex.
When Benny looked up at you, you crumbled inside.
His eyes were so wide, craving an explanation. You could see how much he wanted it. It broke you slightly, knowing that you’d made him question everything he knew about the game—
You wouldn’t dare tell him that was how you felt, though. That was even worse than apologising for winning; than letting him win.
“It just comes to me,” You started, and he was hooked onto your every word. “It’s like an out of body experience, where the pieces know their move, and I’m simply a conduit.” You thought he’d laugh, maybe tell you what bullshit that was, but his face softened. “I imagine they’re alive, the pieces—,” You pointed at his taken Bishop. “In this game, your Bishop betrayed the King. He spoke the false word of a god, and he was banished to the wastelands, where he was killed by a beggar.” You moved to point at one of your pawns still on the board—the piece that had taken his own.
Benny only listened. He didn’t tell you it was stupid, or wrong, or childish—he cared. You were thrown back to what Maude had said the previous evening, and you knew that no matter what, Benny would always listen to what you had to say.
“How?” He repeated. “How does it just—come to you? I don’t understand.”
“Neither do I, truthfully.”
Benny smiled. “You’re like her, like Harmon,” He uncrossed his legs, leaning against the couch. “She told me that if she looks at the ceiling, she can see the game happen right before her very eyes. She makes a board up there, and the pieces just move.”
“Beth’s a World Champion for a reason,” You said, thinking back to how it’d felt when you’d heard she’d won against Borgov.
“You could be one. A World Champion.” When you looked at Benny, his eyes were already plastered on you. “You beat me over and over like it’s the easiest game of chess you’ve ever played. You beat Beth—I wish you could remember it,” He smiled, remembering the game inside his head. “It was probably the best game of chess I’ve ever seen.”
You looked at your hands as an excuse not to look at him.
You weren’t used to being complimented, especially about chess of all things. It felt like you weren’t in the room, like someone else was accepting all of your praise for you—
It made you feel sad.
It made you feel angry.
And you couldn’t understand why.
“Right! Enough competitiveness,” Maude boomed. “Dinner is ready and it’s Thanksgiving, so we must eat more than we’ve eaten this entire year,”
“And drink,” Matt added, waving a bottle of red wine in the air joyously.
“And drink.” Maude repeated.
After you’d all piled your plates high, Maude grabbed Matt’s hand. “This is my favourite part,” She said, shrugging her shoulders with enthusiasm. Matt took Benny’s hand from across the table as you grabbed hold of Maude’s in your own.
Benny gave you a gentle look as he held out his hand. You took it, looking away from him quickly, ignoring the warmth spreading in your chest.
“I am a thankful for this,” Maude began, shooting everyone a smile. “I’m thankful for the food we eat, for my son and his wildly handsome friend,” Benny winked at Maude; Matt immediately frowned. “And, for a new face joining us this year, and hopefully the next.” Maude shook your hand as she finished, you squeezed hers back.
Matt cleared his throat. “I am also thankful for this, for my cocky best-friend who’s in need of a shave, and for being beaten by a brilliant chess player.”
“You didn’t have to mention me twice, Matthew,” Benny said, smirk stamped on his face. Matt kicked him under the table quickly.
“Right—okay,” Benny began. After seeing how he’d tried to talk sense with his feelings before, you had no idea how this was going to go. “I am thankful for—well, a lot of things, I suppose,” He said, starting to ramble. You squeezed his hand encouragingly, causing him to face you. He smiled, calming himself down. “But mostly, I’m thankful for where we are right now, and who I’m with. I’m thankful for the people I know I can count on if things ever go wrong,” He shot a smile at Maude and Matt in turn. “Or if they don’t.”
Three pairs of eyes landed on you in unison, and you felt your heart inflate under your rib cage. You had so much to be thankful for, but you had no idea what to begin with. You had no idea how to put it into words.
You settled on something within your mind that you knew would make some eyes widen, but you thought that was the point.
“I’m thankful for chess,” You said, and just like you’d known, Matt and Benny’s eyebrows raised instantly. “Without it, I would have never met Benny,” You didn’t dare meet his eyes. “And without Benny, I would have never met Matt, and without Matt, Maude,” You sucked in a deep breath, forcing yourself to look up, even if it only meant staring at the wall. “Without chess, my father wouldn’t have been the man he was.”
A comfortable silence fluttered over the table.
And for once, you felt proud of yourself.
“Not bad, for your first Thanksgiving, y’know?” Matt spoke up jokingly. You accepted his smile with one of your own right back at him. “Now, we feast like kings.”
Matt and Maude wasted no time tucking in as you went to pick up your fork.
You didn’t even notice that Benny’s fingers were still intertwined with yours until he circled his thumb over your knuckles. Slowly, gently, one by one, dipping in and out of the groves, until he went back to the beginning again—
It was the same rhythm he’d adopted when he’d brushed his fingertips through your hair.
You glanced at him, holding your fork in one hand. He was doing the same, acting like it was normal for two people to keep holding hands for the duration of a Thanksgiving meal. You could imagine his response if you’d ever ask why he’d kept such a tight hold on you—
“It’s a Thanksgiving tradition. Didn’t you know that?”
You got comfort from the fact that he was obviously comfortable himself; that he intended to keep a hold on you for as long as he could, where it was a novelty, and not an intimacy.
Benny held your hand for the entire meal, only daring to separate his grasp from you when you left the table to have a cigarette outside in the fresh air.
You grabbed a blanket, wrapping it around you as the cold seeped through everything it touched—
But you hardly noticed it—
You could still feel Benny’s hand, keeping you warm. |
Sora and his friends quickly changed into their gym uniform once they had arrived at the sport field for their PE class. As they made their way onto the field, they could already see that their teacher was already on the field. He was waiting patiently for all the students to arrive.
When the last student had arrived, their teacher blew on his whistle and motioned everyone to come closer to him. “I’m Vargas and I’m in charge of watching over your physical education.” He said enthusiastically. “Excellent magic starts with excellent bodies! Behold..!” He said as he started to flex his arm muscles, showing them proudly to his students. “I train these muscles every day! A magician with no stamina is unspeakable! First, do 20 laps around the field! And then, 100 sit-ups!”
Most students groaned after hearing his instructions, but everyone started on their laps anyway. At first everyone seemed to keep the same pace, but after about three laps, the large group of students seemed to fall apart into smaller groups. The group in the lead mainly consisted of Savanaclaw students, including Jack. However, Sora was the exception to the surprise of many. Nobody had expected the small teen to easily keep up with the students of the more athletically inclined dorm. Not that Ace and Deuce were doing bad either, as they were in the group just behind the lead group. However, Grim and Epel were in the last group, not used to running for a long period of time. The cat huffed and puffed as he tried to keep up, while Epel seemed to only continue moving through sheer determination. However, it seemed to work, as he gradually seemed to move up in the group.
After they finished their laps, most students flopped down into the grass, trying to catch their breath. Sora, Jack and Deuce were quietly talking next to Ace, Epel and Grim, who were lying face down on the grass. However, Vargas didn’t give them much time to rest and ordered everyone up on their feet again, with the threat of more laps if they didn’t comply.
Not wanting to risk having to run more laps, everyone moved their protesting bodies into a standing position. Then, as instructed by their teacher, they paired up to do sit ups. One person had to steady the other’s legs and keep count, while the other performed the sit ups. Everyone had to switch positions after the first reached 100 sit ups.
Ace immediately sidled up to Sora and pulled him along to a free space. Epel and Jack paired up as well. Resigned, Deuce turned to look for an available student and asked the last person who was still standing alone, a green haired Diasomnia student. Fortunately for everyone involved, Grim was allowed to skip this part of the lesson.
Like before, this exercise seemed to be a bit too much for most students, with them just being able to reach 100 sit ups when taking several small breaks in between every couple of sit ups. However, Vargas didn’t seem to mind. As long as everyone reached 100 he didn’t seem to care how they reached it.
After everyone had finished their set, their teacher ordered them to finish today’s class with 50 push-ups. Of course everyone complied, even though most students looked quite exhausted already. Even Sora with his almost endless energy seemed to be a bit tired.
Having finished the last exercise, everyone was allowed to shower and get dressed. As Sora and his friends left the changing room, Sora suggested they should check out their preferred club and see whether they would like to sign up. Everyone agreed and the group split up; with Jack and Deuce remaining on the sport field to look for the track and field club, Ace going to the Basketball club, Epel looking for the Magical shift club and Sora heading towards the Board game club. Grim didn’t see the point in joining a club and doing any unnecessary work and headed back to his dorm. They promised to meet up again after club activities had ended to collect chestnuts and bake the apology tart with Trey’s help. After having explained the situation to Epel, he offered his help as well.
~~
Thus, Sora ended up walking down a second floor hallway by himself, looking for the Board game club room. After checking multiple rooms, he finally found what he thought to be the correct room. The room was similar to the one the keyblade wielder had his Magical History class in earlier that day. However, different from his class room, this room had multiple cupboards filled with many board games placed against the walls. Furthermore, in the middle of the room a space was cleared so that games could be played on the floor. For this occasion, multiple cushions were placed on the floor as well. Two of those pillows were being used at the moment. One of them was occupied by a rather tall teen, with fiery blue hair, which flowed to below his waist. He also had striking yellow eyes and blue lips. Next to him, a small boy was sitting. He looked rather similar to the teen, since he also had fiery blue hair. Though his was a lot shorter than that of the other. To the keyblade wielder’s surprise, the kids mouth was covered by what looked to be a mouthpiece and the kid seemed to be wearing some sort of body armor. It actually looked a bit like what everyone wears in the Grid, Tron’s world, including the light that could be seen on the kid’s body. But what was a kid doing in NRC anyway. He didn’t look old enough to be a student here.
The duo looked to be engrossed with playing some sort of board game and hadn’t noticed Sora’s entrance yet. Curious, the brunette moved closer to get a better look at what the two were playing. Some hexagonal tiles were placed on the floor and the duo took turns in either placing a new tile or moving one of the tiles already on the floor. The tiles had images of bugs on them and the tiles appeared to be either black or white, probably indicating to whom the tile belonged to.
Suddenly, the older teen looked up and finally took notice of Sora. His eyes widened in surprise. “A-ah! I-I didn’t notice you….. U-um what… um … are you doing here?” Hearing the other’s words, the kid turned to Sora in wonder.
Flabbergasted at the subdued and rather nervous sounding greeting, Sora answered with less enthusiasm than he normally would. He didn’t want to make the other even more nervous after all. “Hey, I’m Sora, a first year. I’m looking to join the board game club. What game are you playing?”
The older blue haired teen’s face turned from shock to excitement at hearing this. His anxiety seemed to disappear as he explained the board game to a captivated audience. Apparently, they were playing a game called Hive, in which two players have to surround their opponent’s queen bee, while protecting their own. He explained that it relied heavily on strategy, but that it was easy to learn and therefore perfect for beginners. After the explanation, his nervousness seemed to return a bit, but when he noticed that the keyblade wielders showed clear interest all throughout the explanation, he seemed to relax slightly.
“Brother, you didn’t even introduce yourself before going on a rant.” The kid huffed at his brother, before he made his way towards Sora and holding out his hand. “Hi! I’m Ortho!”
Sora smiled and shook Ortho’s hand. Then he turned expectantly to the other’s brother. However, before he could introduce himself, his brother interrupted. “That’s my big brother Idia. He’s really amazing! He is super good at games and he’s the dorm leader of Ignihide.”
“A-ah, Ortho…don’t say such embarrassing things..” Idia said with a slight blush coloring his cheeks.
“So, is it okay for me to join your club? It looks like a lot of fun!” Sora asked the duo.
“Y-Yeah, of course. It might be nice to have another person to play against…” Idia finished wistfully.
“Is it only the two of you?” Sora questioned curiously.
“No, no. There’s also another member, but he isn’t here today.” Idia reassured, seemingly beginning to get more comfortable in Sora’s presence.
After finishing the paperwork for joining the club, Idia offered to play a round of Hive with Sora. Of course Sora accepted…. And lost really badly. It was not that he was bad at strategy, but Idia was just better and seemed to be able to predict Sora’s moves before the keyblade wielder had even thought of them himself. Ortho provided cheerful commentary all throughout their game and tried to cheer Sora up after he lost. During the game the keyblade wielder did consider asking the two about helping him with his phone trouble, but he didn’t want to look like he only wanted to be their friend to take advantage of their skills. Their friendship was fragile enough at the moment with Idia being so skittish and he didn’t want to risk ruining their friendship. He might ask later, when the other seemed more comfortable with him or he would look for someone else to help him. It would be great if fixing what was wrong with his phone would help him contact his friends, but it wasn’t worth it if it meant losing his friendship with the Shroud brothers. It still perplexed him that it didn’t work in this world. Was it only because his phone was broken, or was he just beyond reach of his friends…. He tried to shake of these depressing thoughts and focus on the present. Like playing games with the Shroud brothers and helping Ace with baking his apology tart.
Since he still had some time left before he had agreed to meet with the others, Sora played another game, this time against Ortho. Idia provided some tips while they played, but the keyblade wielder was still unable to beat the younger brother. Though, Sora did appear to become somewhat better at the game. He congratulated Ortho with his victory and told the duo that he had to leave already, since he had promised to help his friends out later this afternoon. The Shroud brothers seemed a bit disappointed at the news, but bid him goodbye anyway and told him that this week the club room would be open every afternoon after classes and that he would be welcome any time to join them. After this week, meetings would resume being three times a week; on Monday, Tuesday and Thursday and that they were sort of mandatory unless he had a good reason or the meeting was canceled.
~~
Sora made his way towards the greenhouse. At the moment, he was really grateful for the tour they had on their first day, otherwise he would most likely have gotten lost looking for it. As he walked down the path leading to the greenhouse, he could see that almost all of his friends were already there and waiting for the others. Only Epel and Ace were still missing.
While they waited, the keyblade wielder asked his friends how their clubs were and whether they had signed up for them. Jack and Deuce excitedly told him about the track and field club and how fast everyone there was. Of course they signed up for it in the end, causing Grim to comment why they would ever consider spending time running around. Choosing to ignore the cat’s comment, Sora described his time in the board game club and how he met the Ignihide dorm leader and his little brother. Just as the brunette finished his story, Epel and Ace hurriedly made their way towards them. They both looked slightly disheveled and out of breath.
“A-alright, everyone’s here. We can finally start gathering chestnuts.” Ace huffed out, trying to pretend like he was not trying to catch his breath.
“We were waiting for your lazy but, ya know.” Grim muttered in response. “Be grateful that I’m going to help ya at all!”
“You’re only here for the tart and not to help me, idiot cat.” Ace exclaimed looking slightly irritated by the cat’s words. Though, he seemed to get himself together quickly afterwards as the group made their way into the woods behind their campus. As they walked farther into the woods, the amount of trees containing chestnuts significantly increased.
“Whoa! There really are a lotta chestnuts here! If we have this much, then it’s all-you-can-eat marron tarts for us! Gehehe….” Grim exclaimed as he pranced in front of the group. He looked around at the chestnuts, drool already leaking from his mouth. The cat was clearly imagining eating the tarts already. He reached out to grab one of the chestnuts that had fallen on the ground. “Let’s hurry and- ouch!!” Grim suddenly shouted as he hopped around holding one of his front paws to his chest. “Gah! The chestnut’s thorns dug into my pawpads!”
“Are you okay, Grim?” Sora worriedly asked as he crouched before the cat. “Hey, let me look at it, please.” The keyblade wielder held out his right hand and looked expectantly at the cat, who after considering it for a bit offered his injured paw. As Sora took a closer look at it, he could see blood welling from a small puncture wound. When the teen lightly touched it with his finger, Grim tensed from the pain. Sora decided then that he would heal the small wound even though it didn’t look to be serious, it still seemed to pain the cat. The keyblade wielder held his left hand above the paw still held in his right hand and focused on casting a minor cure spell. As the others watched on in fascination, the brunette’s hand began to glow a slight green color. Sora removed his hand and the wound was gone, to the surprise of his audience. Grim looked with large, grateful eyes to Sora and carefully looked his paw over.
“Thank you…” The cat muttered softly, looking away in embarrassment.
“Looks like it’ll be impossible to pick them up with bare hands.” Deuce observed thoughtfully. “It would also be smart to use a bucket to place them all in.”
“Maybe we can find those in the botanical garden?” Ace offered.
“Shall we go see?” Deuce suggested and as everyone gave their agreement, they left the woods and entered the botanical garden. Which was a beautiful place with all kinds of flowers growing everywhere, even in pots hanging from the ceiling. The temperature was also nice and warm, but not too warm. Soft sunlight shone through the class ceiling, giving everything a dreamy look. As they made their way further into the botanical garden, everyone looked around in awe. They hadn’t expected such a place to exist in the school.
“Whoa! It looks bigger on the inside.” Ace said in wonder.
“The necessary tools should probably be here somewhere. Why don’t we split up and look for them?” Jack suggested.
“Me and Deuce will go right, then.” Ace suggested causing Deuce to sputter, but eventually the teen agreed, blushing wildly to the satisfaction of Ace.
“I’ll check west.” Epel offered.
“I’ll go with you, Epel. Grim and Sora, why don’t you check around the inner gardens. You are after all the only one Grim even remotely listens to.” Jack said, making a lot of sense.
Thus, everyone split up for the second time that afternoon. As Sora wandered the garden with Grim by his side, the keyblade wielder took in his surroundings. It really was a nice and peaceful place here. Maybe he could come back in the future just to look around.
“Hey, come look at this. It looks like there’s tonsa fruit here! They smell soooo good!” Grim suddenly exclaimed, tearing the brunette from his thoughts. The cat was standing excitedly next to a bush of strange yellow berries. It weren’t any kind of berries Sora had seen before, so Sora hurried to stop the cat from putting any into his mouth. They could very well be poisonous, after all.
“Don’t eat that! You don’t know if they’re poisonous. Don’t you remember what master Crewel said this morning.” Sora warned the cat. Grim seemed to ignore him and had plucked a berry already. Not wanting to take any risk, Sora moved to pluck the berry from the cat’s grip. However, as Sora stepped closer to Grim, his foot stepped onto something soft and squishy. What the…?!
“Hey, You’ve got guts stepping on someone’s tail without apologizing.” Someone growled from the other side of the bush next to Sora. As the keyblade wielder turned to locate the source of the voice, he could see a rather tall teen stepping out of the bush. He was rather muscular, with golden brown skin, thick, messy brown hair with two braids on either side of his face and vibrant green eyes, that were looking Sora up and down. A tin scar went through his left eyebrow to his cheek. Surprisingly, he was not wearing the uniform jacket. Only his yellow waistcoat was on, indicating that he was from Savanaclaw. On his head two light-brown lion ears could be seen and from his backside a similarly colored tail was peeking out. However the tip of it looked a bit roughened up. That was probably the keyblade wielder’s fault……Ah, shit, he should probably apologize.
However, before he could apologize, Grim had already put his foot in his mouth. “Are you the guy tending to this place? Wow, you’ve got quite a scary mug…”
“I went here thinking I can have a peaceful nap, but then my tail gets stepped on and I get insulted. This is the worst.” The lion-eared teen complained, seeming rather irritated at their presence.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t see it. Does….Does it still hurt? I can heal it for you as an apology if you like?” Sora offered hopefully. He really didn’t want to upset the other.
“You….. Ah, you’re the little herbivore that the mirror couldn’t sort. Hmph.” The lion-eared teen leaned closer to Sora, until his nose was level with the top of the other’s head. Then he…sniffed him? He stayed in this position for a while, with Sora not willing to move and disturb him any further. As The lion-eared teen moved back, Sora could see how the other’s surprised look turned to one of smugness.
“I was going to punish you for waking me and stepping on my tail, but….. If you promise me a favor in the future and if you heal my tail for me, I will reconsider.”
“Okay!” Sora said with a smile and held his hand up expectantly, his action mirroring the one he had done earlier for Grim. The other teen carefully placed his tail in Sora’s hand and watched intensely how the keyblade wielder healed it. The earlier throbbing he was feeling disappeared and was replaced with a soothing warmth. As his tail was released, he flicked it experimentally. It felt like nothing had ever happened to it. Just as he was about to make another comment to the keyblade wielder, sudden shouting stopped him.
“ Leona!” Someone unfamiliar exclaimed cheerfully.
This sudden intrusion seemed to sour the lion-earned teens mood immensely. “What?” He irately bit out.
The newcomer, also a Savanaclaw student, who was slightly taller than Sora, had spiky dark blond hair, two large hyena ears and green-grey eyes, casually moved closer to the trio. “I knew you’d be here. You’ve got supplementary lessons today.”
“And there comes the noisy one.” Leona complained.
“You already repeated a year, Leona. If things keep going like this, we’ll end up being classmates next year, y’know?”
“Ah, shut it. Stop nagging, Ruggie.” Leona said in reply. He seemed to get more irritated the longer the other kept talking. The two actually seemed to have forgotten they had company.
“I don’t wanna nag you either! Geez, you can do anything you put your mind to, but you don’t put effort at all. Come on, let’s go!” Ruggie said and motioned for the other to follow him. However, the blonde then took notice of Sora standing slightly behind Leona. “Oh, who’s this! Shishishi! Leona, you didn’t tell me you were meeting someone here. Were you two on a date!” Ruggie had a large mischievous smile on his face as he said the last part, hoping to embarrass either of the teens before him.
“Tch. Don’t say such ridiculous things, Ruggie. Though, the herbivore is quite interesting….. See you later, herbivores. And don’t forgot that favor you owe me.” Leona said as he walked away. Ruggie followed him closely on his heels, winking at Sora as they left.
“Gah!! That was nerve-wrecking…! What’s with that scary weirdo?!” Grim exclaimed as the duo was out of earshot.
“Don’t be so mean, Grim. He seemed rather nice, if a bit gruff.” Sora admonished the cat.
“To you maybe, but if it was me who had stepped on his tail, he would have eaten me alive.” Grim whined as a shiver ran along his spine at the thought. “And don’t you just agree to give favors to strangers. You don’t want to owe that weirdo.”
Not wanting to go into an argument with the cat, Sora chose to ignore the comment as the two moved further along the garden. However, they couldn’t find any baskets or gloves for their use. After a while they both gave up and returned to the entrance of the botanical garden. Unsurprisingly, they were not the first to arrive. Epel and Jack were already there. Though, they appeared to be empty handed. Hopefully, Ace and Deuce would have had better luck.
Shortly after Sora and Grim had joined the duo, Ace and Deuce also arrived. They both looked smug as they showed the baskets and tongs they had found.
“We found two baskets and a ton of tongs here!” Ace unnecessarily proclaimed.
“Let’s go collect the chestnuts already.” Epel suggested and they made their way back into the woods behind their campus. Ace, Sora and Jack moved to one tree, while Grim, Deuce and Epel moved to another. Both groups had one bucket each and aimed to fill both of them to the brim. Suitably armed, the teens began to harvest the chestnuts. With all of them working together, the amount of chestnuts in their basket increased rapidly. When both of the baskets were filled, the teens turned to each other.
“Will that be enough? Should we count them?” Jack asked, looking at the baskets and trying to estimate how many chestnuts were inside them.
“Are you mad, that will take ages!” Ace complained.
“It should be enough!” Sora said. “And if not, we could always come back and get more. Let’s go back to senior Trey!”
The promise of tarts seemed to energize everyone, especially Grim. “Nyaha! I can practically taste the tart already!”
With renewed energy the group made their way towards the kitchen. There, the green-haired senior already awaited them. He looked happy to see them and he looked especially delighted at the sight of their almost overflowing baskets with chestnuts.
“Welcome back. I see you’ve picked a bunch.” He greeted them.
“You can make a gigantic tart with these!” Grim exclaimed proudly.
“Though, you’ll end up doing more work, but … Do your best.” Trey said to their dismay.
“All of this, huh….. I feel like we’ll be here for a long time.” Deuce observed, sounding quite reluctant to peel so many chestnuts.
“If we work together it won’t take that long!” Sora tried to reassure the others. He seemed to succeed somewhat if the smiles he got in return were to be believed.
“Yeah, yeah. Let’s just get it over with!” Ace agreed.
The teens settled around the room as Trey explained how to remove the shells of the chestnuts using magic. Since Ace couldn’t use any magic, the green-haired teen also showed them how to remove it the regular way without magic. The first years then proceeded to remove the shells at a rather fast pace. Seeing that all the chestnuts had their skin already removed, Trey ordered them to then continue with preparing them for the filling. The first years had to mash the peeled chestnuts and force the resulting puree through a sieve. Unfortunately, they had to do this by hand, since it was still too complex for them to use magic for.
However, Trey asked Sora to help him prepare the dough for the tarts instead, since the keyblade wielder was the only first year with some cooking or baking experience. Sora retrieved the ingredients and handed them to Trey one by one (flour, sugar, salt, eggs, butter, cream and vanilla extract), while the green-haired teen measured the correct amounts. At his senior’s instruction, Sora started to cut up the butter in small cubes and added them to the mix of flour, sugar and salt that Trey had already placed in the food processor. While Sora pulsed the mixtures in the food processor, Trey combined the egg yolk, cream and vanilla and stirred them thoroughly. This egg mixture was then added to the food processor and whisked until it was one consistent mixture. Next, the fun part began, according to Trey. He split the dough in half and gave one of them to the keyblade wielder. Then, the green-haired teen showed Sora how to shape the dough into a round shape, which the brunette did. It actually was fun to do and Sora’s dough had almost exactly the same shape as Trey’s. Again, Trey first showed the other how to place the dough in the tart tin and how to extend the dough slightly above the rim of the tin. Sora mirrored his actions. The green-haired teen was actually a great teacher and Sora enjoyed working with him. He wouldn’t mind doing this again in the future. It really reminded him of working with little chef, and though it made him a bit homesick, he still enjoyed it a lot.
“You did great, Sora. You really are a quick study.” The green-haired teen praised Sora, who rewarded the other with a bright smile. “Now we have to place them in the refrigerator for about half an hour.”
After the tart crust was placed in the refrigerator, the duo returned to the other first years…. And found that they had made quite a mess. It seemed that straining the chestnuts was not as easy as it looked and took a bit of patience, which not all of the first years seemed to have. Splatters of chestnut puree could be seen on the cupboards, the floor and even some on the students. Jack and Epel had fortunately avoided the worst of it, but the other three were covered in multiple splatters of the mush. Though, it looked like they had finished their work at least. And most of the chestnut puree had ended up in a bucket.
“Pfft. What happened?” Sora asked, trying hard not to laugh.
“Some people couldn’t control themselves and had to make a competition out of it.” Epel bit out, sounding rather irritated.
“You know you have to clean up the mess you made by yourself, right?” Trey asked with a rather terrifying smile.
“A-ah, we didn’t mean to make this mess. O-of course, we’ll clean everything up.” Deuce sputtered in response.
“Haha. Great work anyway. I’m sure that your hard work will all be worth it.” Trey said, his smile having turned friendly again. “We’ll use the chestnut paste to make the filling, which uses butter and sugar. And then, I’ll also add some oyster sauce as a secret ingredient.” The senior added sounding completely serious.
“Oyster sauce?!” Ace, Deuce, Jack and Epel shouted in surprise.
“That’s not really an ingredient, right?” Sora added sounding unsure. He knew that sometimes savory ingredients were added to sweet dishes, but it didn’t really sound right this time. But Trey had sounded so sincere when he said it. He wouldn’t be lying to them, right?
“The savory flavor of the chestnuts gives the cream a rich flavor. And then, to make it better, I use this ‘Walrus-brand young oyster sauce’. There’s no famous pâtissier who doesn’t use this for their tarts, you know?” Trey explained sounding just as sincere as he had earlier. His expression hadn’t changed at all to show that the senior was lying, but….. He had to be lying. Sora knew from his own experience that oyster sauce was not an indispensable ingredient in any tart that he knew little chef had ever baked. Even though Sora had never made any tarts himself, he had watched the other make some before. And not once had he used oyster sauce. Of course, little chef was no pâtissier, but he was a pretty famous chef, who was also able to bake pretty much anything. So he would have known to use this ‘secret’ ingredient, if what Trey said was true. So, does that mean that Trey is able to lie perfectly, without any tells. That’s quite terrifying…..
While Sora had already caught on to the other’s lies, the other first years still seemed to believe him. “Really….? It’s a pretty salty sauce, isn’t it?” Deuce asked, looking and sounding rather confused.
“You know how they put chocolate in curry, too? It kinda makes sense…..” Ace added thoughtfully.
Not being able to take in anymore, Trey started to laugh. “I was just joking! There’s no way I’d put oyster sauce in a dessert, you know?”
Ace looked rather offended at the senior’s lie. “What the heck!? Are you making fun of us!?”
“That wasn’t really nice of you, you know.” Jack added, one of his ears had started to twitch in irritation.
“Haha! It’s obviously impossible if you think about it a little!” Trey replied cheerfully, not seeming to mind the negative reaction his little deception had unleashed in the first years. Well, most of them looked rather miffed by everything except for Sora, who looked thoughtful instead. “The moral lesson here is that you shouldn’t believe anything you’re told. Learn to doubt a bit, okay?” The green haired teen told them. It sounded like friendly advice, but Sora was able to hear an undertone to it. Yet he couldn’t really make out the other emotion he had heard.
“This guy looks nice, but he’s the type who can tell lies with no problem, huh….” Grim observed uncharacteristically insightful.
“Next is the fresh cream- Ah!” Trey exclaimed as he looked at the remaining ingredients. “It looks like we do not have enough cream for the amount of chestnuts you picked. I hadn’t expected you guys to come back with quite so many.“
“I’ll go buy some. Do they sell it in the school store?” Deuce offered.
However, Trey shook his head at him. “It’s better you clean yourself up first before going out. One of you, who is still clean, would be able to get it from the school store. That shop sells pretty much anything, so I’m sure it should be there.”
“I’ll go.” Epel offered. “Do you only need some fresh cream?”
“Ah, now that you mention it. I also need two packs of milk, two cartons of eggs, silicon cups and five canned fruits….”
“O-oh, I don’t think I can carry all of that alone…” Epel admitted looking a bit ashamed.
“I’ll help!” Jack offered. “This is going to be my first time visiting the school store though. I.. um.. don’t really know where it is…”
Epel gave Jack a small grateful smile. “I know where it is, don’t worry.”
As the duo left the kitchen to get the requested supplies, the remaining first years looked to each other not knowing what to do now, since their task was completed.
“Why don’t you three get cleaned up?” Trey suggested. The trio of Grim, Ace and Deuce shrugged, having nothing better to do they did as their senior suggested. This left Sora alone with Trey again. Well, not for long. Just as the trio had left the kitchen, a certain orange-haired senior appeared.
“Hi! How’s it going?” Cater asked as he moved to stand next to the keyblade wielder. “Aw, man. The tarts aren’t finished yet?” He said sounding disappointed and threw his arm around Sora’s shoulder.
“The crust is about ready to be placed into the oven. You’re just in time to help us making the filling. We have enough supplies to make one tart.” Trey said as he handed Cater a bowl and a whisk, resulting in the other having to release Sora. “You can start by whisking that. Sora, can you place the tart crusts into the oven?”
Rather reluctantly, Cater did as instructed, while Sora placed the tart crusts into the oven. Meanwhile, Trey was cleaning the mess the others had made using his magic. Even though he had threatened the ones responsible to do it, he took pity on them. As Cater was working, he quietly talked with Sora about this and that. He asked about whether Sora had already decided on a club and was disappointed to hear that the keyblade wielder wouldn’t be joining his club, the light music club. Though, Cater did sound surprised that the other got to meet the rather elusive Ignihide dorm leader in the flesh (and not just via his tablet screen).
After a while, Epel and Jack returned with the awaited ingredients at the same time that Deuce, Ace and Grim returned from cleaning up. The trio had actually managed to get most of the chestnut mush from their clothes and hair, which was probably why it had taken so long. At least they hadn’t made a half-assed attempt at it.
Trey thanked Epel and Jack as he retrieved the bags containing the ingredients. Then he proceeded to make another batch of tart filling and after retrieving the tart crusts from the oven and letting them cool for a bit, he added the filling to both tarts and placed them back in the oven for a short while. While they waited for the tart to bake, Grim had plastered his face against the oven door and hungrily looked at the baking tarts. Cater, who was still standing next to Sora, had decided to show the keyblade wielder how MagiCam worked and showed him some photos.
Finally, Trey retrieved the tarts from the oven. One was carefully set aside to cool, while the senior presented the other to his captivated audience. “Alright, the last step is to sprinkle some powdered sugar on top and then…” He said as he did just that.
“We’re done!” Shouted Ace and Grim in unison. The others also looked excited and happy as they looked on while Trey served everyone a slice.
“Nice work! It looks totally ‘grammable’! Let me take a pic!” Cater said as he made a photo first of the slice he had received and then of the intact tart.
“Ah! Why did you get a slice as well. You didn’t do anything….” Ace said accusingly the his fellow orange head.
“I came to check on my cute little juniors ‘cause you were doing your best! And Trey made my whisk the filling…now I’m all tired. Ahaha, you look dead tired as well!” Cater said, sounding far to cheerful for someone who proclaims to be tired.
“Doing things you’re not used to can be tiring. In any case, sweets are the solution for a weary body. Let’s dig in!” Trey told everyone. At his suggestion everyone took a bite of the delicious tart. Sounds of delight could be heard all around the room as the teens seemed to savor the taste.
“Whoa…! It smells so sweet and good! The chestnuts on top are so smooth, and the cream is so fluffy!” Grim moaned. “It’s sweet, but it’s not overpowering. My mouth feels like it’s in a field of chestnuts, yanno!”
“This is so good!” Cater uttered in between his bites.
“Amazing….. It’s better than the ones in the store!” Deuce complimented.
“Oh, yeah. Do that for them, Trey.” Cater suddenly asked the green-haired teen.
Trey looked confused at first, but he seemed to get what the other meant quickly. He pulled out his magic pen in response. “You boys, what are your favorite foods?” Trey asked, surprising the others at the change in topic.
“Mine’s…. cherry pie and hamburger.” Ace said.
“Mine is canned tuna. Oh, and cheesy omelet, grilled meat, pudding and-“ Grim excitedly replied, only just about keeping himself from mentioning even more food.
“If I were to choose, I’d probably pick omurice.” Deuce responded.
“Um… I like everything that’s made by my friends… But if I would have to choose any type of fried fish!” Sora replied.
“You already know that mine is grilled rum meat with diablo sauce.” Cater said with a wink.
“Mine’s pear compote.” Jack added and then they all turned to Epel waiting expectantly for his response.
Epel seemed unsure about answering, but seemed to come to a decision. “It’s yakiniku! Not macarons…” He muttered the last part bitterly.
“Alright, here we go. Doodle suit!” Trey exclaimed as he pointed his magic pen at the slices of tart the teens were holding. They briefly shone with a brilliant light, to the shock of everyone except Cater and Trey, before returning to their natural state.
“T-this is….?” Deuce sputtered, staring at his plate like he didn’t know whether he wanted to take another bite or he wanted throw it away.
“Take another bite of the marron tart, if you’d please.” Trey urged, looking delighted at the response his magic had caused.
Sora was the first to muster the courage and took a bite. “Oh! It actually tastes like fried salmon!”
Seeing that nothing bad had happened to the brunette, the others also took a bite. “Hm? This is… it’s marron tart, but I can taste cherry pie!”
“Whoah! I can taste the yakiniku! Mmmh!” Epel said, before he quickly took another bite clearly savoring the taste.
“It’s interesting, right?! Don’tcha think this’ll fly well if you do this at a tea party with girls?” Cater teased Trey, who actually didn’t seem to be affected by it at all. He had probably gotten used to it, living with the other for more than two years.
“It’s amazing! Is changing something’s flavor your unique magic, senior Trey?” Deuce asked.
“To be more precise, it’s the ability to ‘overwrite things with what you imagine.’ I can do it with color and smell too, not just taste. It’s not a permanent effect so it’s sort of like a sketch only. That’s why I call this magic ‘doodle’. It’s merely sketching.” Trey explained.
“You must have a great imagination then, Trey senpai! That’s incredible!” Sora complimented the green-haired senior, whose cheeks suddenly turned a slight pink, to the delight of Cater.
“A-ah, no. It’s not that impressive. My magic is merely a toy when compared to great magicians, like our dorm leader. Our levels are just too different.” Trey said, while scratching his cheek in embarrassment. He actually wasn’t able to meet Sora’s eyes as he said that, which seemed to cause Cater to spontaneously burst out in giggles. Deciding to ignore his fellow third year’s behavior, Trey turned to look at the clock on the wall. “…. Alright! The night is deep. Let’s give the tart to the Prefect tomorrow, okay? Tomorrow is the Unbirthday Party. Don’t be late, got it?”
Everyone agreed with the green-haired teen and started to clear away the last of their mess. Sora was holding the tart, which had been placed in a carton box, when they left the kitchen. Suddenly, Ace turned to him.
“Hi, Sora, can I sleep over again? It seems like this bully senior won’t let me back in yet.” Ace whined and gave an irritated look to his fellow orange head before turning back to Sora.
“Oh, my! What passive-aggressive wording!” Cater teased.
“Hey, Ace. Don’t rely on Sora too much. You don’t want to be a bother to him, right.” Deuce said with a harsh glare to Ace.
“Eh?! Am I supposed to sleep outside then?” Ace tried to defend himself.
Not wanting a fight to break out, Trey decided to interfere. “How about we have Deuce stay over in Sora’s dorm, too, to help keep an eye on Ace. I’ll give you permission as the vice dorm leader. At least if Sora agrees to host you guys.”
“Of course Deuce and Ace can stay! We can have a sleep over!” Sora agreed excitedly.
“Aren’t you being too soft on them, Trey!?” Cater said in disbelief, before his smile turned mischievous. “How nice! Hey, Hey, Sora, can I stay with you guys, too?” Cater asked sweetly and threw his arm over the keyblade wielder, pulling him closer. Sora stiffened slightly at the unexpected closeness, but relaxed almost immediately. He had already gotten somewhat used to the other’s clinginess and actually didn’t mind it anymore.
“You’re not included.” Trey said sternly. “And don’t bother the firsties so much. You don’t want to scare them away, right?”
“Aw, so stingy. Sora doesn’t seem to mind it!” Cater whined, but released Sora anyway. He didn’t want to upset Trey too much or he might get punished.
“I’m sorry for leaving our two boys in your care again, Sora. See you tomorrow.” Trey said before he left and he tugged a reluctant Cater behind him.
“Too bad that we don’t have our dorm leader’s permission to stay with you.” Epel said sounding really disappointed. “But I don’t want to face his anger again, so I better go. Good luck keeping those three in line and see you tomorrow!”
“Yeah, see you tomorrow, Sora. We should really have a sleep over when all of this is over.” Jack said and he and Epel made their way to the mirror room.
The quartet watched them leave, before making their way to ramshackle dorm.
“Tomorrow is the Unbirthday Party…. I’ll definitely make him remove this damn collar! Just you wait, Dorm leader!” Ace declared as the entered the dorm. |
Dedede burst into the door with all the energy Meta Knight had expected. Kirby smothered his giggles with his hands; they'd talked about this, but Meta Knight had a sneaking suspicion that Kirby couldn't keep any secret very long. “But you love me, doncha, my dearest, sweetest, most favoritest pet?” Dedede asked, his voice booming from the entryway.
“I thought Meta Knight was your ‘most favoritest’ pet,” Bandanna Dee replied, his tone admirably emphasizing the scare-quotes.
Dedede rounded the corner and paused, his mouth hanging open. Bandanna Dee bumped into his back and raised an eyebrow. “Hi!” Kirby chirped. “Welcome home!”
“Yeah. Why’re you here?” Dedede asked.
“He skipped class to visit me,” Meta Knight answered.
Kirby grinned and clapped his hands together. “I did!”
“How thoughtful,” Bandanna Dee said. “Don’t worry. I took good notes. You’re welcome to borrow them, although it was mostly about Dark Mind. You know—the wizard Nova sealed away in another dimension?”
Galaxia stirred with interest; she’d been the weapon to weaken Dark Mind and shatter his power, so he could be sealed away.
“That is interesting,” Meta Knight said. “Today, I learned that I have a brother. Well, half-brother, actually. On my father’s side.”
Kirby laughed. “Me, too!” he declared.
Bandanna Dee clapped his hands over his mouth. “Brother?” he squeaked. “You’re—” Most of Bandanna Dee’s words were lost in Dedede’s full-throated screech.
Dedede crossed the room and leaned over Meta Knight. For a brief moment, Meta Knight thought his Lord might actually faint. Hopefully, not on him. Meta Knight's ribs ached at the thought. “Brother!” Dedede exclaimed, gawking and pointing, his finger a half-inch from Meta Knight’s nose. “You are related to Kirby.”
“Yes. And concussion,” Meta Knight replied smoothly. “Can you not yell?”
Dedede twisted around and pointed at Kirby, who smiled cheerily back. “Brother,” Kirby echoed.
"Congratulations," Bandanna Dee said, his voice mercifully quieter than Dedede's.
“Brother,” Dedede replied. “You’re his brother? His brother.”
“How wonderful—” Bandanna Dee said.
“We’ve established that,” Meta Knight replied.
“Brother!” Dedede insisted. “How?”
“We were talking, and it turns out both of us have Nightmare as our father,” Meta Knight said.
“What d’you mean y’all are brothers?” Dedede exclaimed. “Y’all better no do joking around with us!”
“No, we really are!” Kirby replied, clapping his hands together. “Meta Knight is my half-brother!”
Dedede embraced Kirby in what looked like a bone-crushing hug. Meta Knight wilted against the sofa, praying to Nova that his dear, rambunctious lord remembered his fractured ribs. With a bellowing laugh, Dedede actually lifted Kirby off the ground. Kirby made a noise between a squeak and a laugh when Dedede finally released him. “Meta Knight’s brother? There are two of you! Dear Nova! A-are you gonna start calling each other cute pet names? I’ve read brothers do that.”
“Brothers don’t do that,” Bandanna Dee scoffed.
“But they gotta push each other’s buttons every now and then!” Dedede protested.
Bandanna Dee rolled his eyes. “I can see it a bit in the face,” Bandanna Dee said. “It’s something in the eyes—and maybe the mouth. I can’t believe I never noticed. Wow! You're both so lucky! Kirby, you are really fortunate to have Meta Knight. He's wonderful brotherly material."
Drawcia had noticed the similarity. Meta Knight mentally filed that knowledge away for later; he wasn’t sure the significance of it, or if there even was any.
“Probably because one of us is half-Halcandran,” Meta Knight replied. “And of course, none of us really expected me to have a long-lost sibling either.”
Meta Knight sensed Kirby watching him, so he offered Kirby a shy smile and a sort of self-depreciating shrug. Dedede sat on the sofa arm near Meta Knight, and after a second’s pause, Dedede gently dropped his hand and traced Galaxia’s mark down Meta Knight’s shoulder. “I kinda feel like the world’s stopped turning,” Dedede said.
“If it did, we’d all die,” Meta Knight said.
“Yeah, thanks, Mr. Astrophysicist,” Dedede said. “A freaking brother.”
“You keep saying that. I think we’ve broken you,” Meta Knight replied.
“Well, I guess I gotta be nice now,” Dedede replied, heaving a heavy sigh. “Pipsqueak. Doncha go hurting my Meta—”
“I wouldn’t!” Kirby exclaimed. “I’ve always wanted a brother, and…and he’s great. Meta Knight is everything I’ve ever wanted!”
“Hardly that,” Meta Knight murmured.
Dedede’s face split into a broad grin. “Mety is something else, ain’t he? Gorgeous boy.” Dedede turned his head and pressed his face against Meta Knight’s hair. Quietly, he added, “Are you okay with this, Mety Knight?”
Meta Knight turned his head away from the others. I don’t know he mouthed.
Dedede nodded. “Well, you’re darn lucky, Kirbs,” Dedede said. “Not everybody gets brothers as good as—I mean, you’re lucky to have…”
“Yes, very lucky,” Bandanna Dee said. "You couldn't find someone more loyal or so brave anywhere!"
Bandanna Dee sounded so genuinely happy, and it made Meta Knight’s heart ache. It must be difficult. Bandanna Dee hadn’t seen his own brother in almost two years, and they’d left on poor terms. Surely, out of all of them, Bandanna Dee was most deserving of a good sibling.
“I know,” Kirby said, “And I promise to be the best brother ever!”
Dedede plopped onto the sofa beside Meta Knight, and Bandanna Dee perched on the chair arm of Kirby’s seat. “I’m sure you will be,” Bandanna Dee said, patting Kirby’s shoulder.
“Yeah, well, this is kinda a shock. I feel like I’ve been kicked in the balls,” Dedede said.
Meta Knight winced. “I can assure you being kicked in your reproductive organs is much more painful than this.”
“Are you talking from experience?” Bandanna Dee asked.
Oh, yes. Meta Knight heaved a long-suffering sigh. Dedede leaned forward, far too eager to discuss the incident. “Embarrassing brother story-time! Okay, the first thing you gotta know,” Dedede said, “Is that I totally didn’t mean to knee him in the balls. Especially not that hard. And holy crap, I did not know that Meta Knight could swear like that. And I totally didn’t mean to laugh afterward.”
It was three in the morning when Kirby finally left. It’d been a fun evening, filled with numerous questions and comparisons and shared stories. Meta Knight hadn’t talked much once Dedede arrived. Kirby suspected his brother was more tired than he, perhaps, liked to let on. Meta Knight had started nodding off by midnight. But it was interesting. Dedede was all too happy to regale Kirby with the stories about all the things he and Meta Knight had done together, like the time Meta Knight had lived with a family of jewelers in Floralia, and Dedede would go over to visit him. Precisely why Meta Knight had ended up living with a family of jewelers when he was seventeen was awkwardly sidestepped. There were many awkward sidesteps and little bits that didn’t connect well.
Kirby suspected that Nightmare was the bit that would connect them all, but he hadn’t wanted to ask about his dad. It was clear neither Meta Knight nor Dedede liked him very much. Dedede cleared his throat and turned down the Halberd’s radio. He’d graciously agreed to drive Kirby home, and it’d led to the most awkward car ride in history.
“Yeah. Hey, it was—uh—good to see you,” Dedede said. “If Mety had to have a long-lost sibling, I guess I’m happy it was you. Don’t think this means I’m gonna go easy on you, though. You’re still a pipsqueak.”
Kirby stared at Dedede for a long moment. The older boy still seemed so large and intimidating, and while they weren’t really enemies, Kirby wasn’t entirely sure they were friends. “Why don’t you like me?” Kirby asked.
“Like you?”
“I mean…” Kirby shifted awkwardly. “What is it specifically about me that you dislike?”
Dedede furrowed his brow. “Well, it’s kinda complicated. I mean, I knew you had something to do with Nightmare, and I hate him so much. I guess…I dunno. I guess it just put a bad taste in my mouth.”
“But Meta Knight is Nightmare’s child, too.”
“Meta Knight’s different,” Dedede said. “Look. I don’t, like, hate you or nothing. Okay? I just gotta get to know you a bit better. I guess. Although you’ll still be a pipsqueak. I ain’t letting you just get rid of that title.”
“Get to know me…” Kirby muttered.
“Yeah,” Dedede replied warily. “I mean, you don’t think I just make friends with everyone I meet, do you? I gotta be careful with my title. But I guess you get a little bit of an advantage. Being related to Meta. Long as you ain’t selling him out to Nightmare or something.”
Kirby fidgeted with his hands. “I don’t like the way you talk about my dad,” he said.
“I don’t like the way your dad beats up on Meta Knight,” Dedede retorted. “Maybe you oughta quit acting like Nightmare’s so great. You didn’t have to live with him, did you? He came home—what? Once or twice a year? Meta had to deal with him every single weekend, and when Nightmare wasn’t around, he left his kid out in the middle of freaking nowhere with a handful of servants that he rotated out every three months. And d’you know why? ‘Cause he didn’t want Meta Knight getting attached to no one. And guess what? Even now that Meta’s living with me, Nightmare still wants to come around and tell him what to do. And that ain’t right.”
Kirby felt his face warm. He looked towards the street and scowled at his reflection in the rear-view mirror. This was his dad. This was Meta Knight’s dad. Why was this so hard? Surely, Kirby—Kirby believed Meta Knight, but hearing Dedede tear apart their dad—
This was Kirby’s dad, who gave Kirby a fluffy black kitten named Mr. Meowington. This was Kirby’s dad, who took him stargazing on the beach. Kirby’s dad, who was always so sad to leave him. Kirby’s dad, who was somehow Meta Knight’s dad, too.
Kirby lowered his head against the car door and bit his lip. His eyes stung, and there was no questioning the hot tears flowing down his cheeks. No one had asked him to choose between his friends and his dad, but it felt like they had. Why did it have to be like this? Why couldn’t Nightmare just be a good dad to both Kirby and Meta Knight?
Dedede slammed on the brakes. “You ain’t crying, are you?”
“No,” Kirby lied.
“Yeah, you are. Might as well admit it. There ain’t no shame in crying, y’know. I keep telling Meta that,” Dedede said. “It’s ‘cause I said that ‘bout Nightmare, ain’t it? I wasn’t wrong. I ain’t gonna apologize for saying it, but…but maybe I should’ve been more tactful. I guess I get a little emotional when it comes to Meta.”
The Halberd began moving again. Kirby roughly rubbed his eyes. “I’m a bad friend,” he said dully. “I shouldn’t—”
Dedede turned abruptly. “We’re gonna get some ice cream,” Dedede said. “That’ll make it all better. Nothing better for a broken heart than a crap-ton of sugar!”
Kirby didn’t argue. “Where can we get ice cream at three in the morning?”
Dedede didn’t answer; instead, he pulled into a bubble gum pink shop. Through the shopfront windows, Kirby could see pictures of ice cream plastered on the walls, and—astonishingly—the lights were on, and the sign on the door read Open.
“There’s a twenty-four-hour ice cream parlor?” Kirby asked.
“Yep!”
Dedede strode from the car. “Meta and I used to come here a lot when we were freshmen,” he said.
Kirby carefully shut the Halberd’s door; that car was so expensive and sleek that he felt like it might break apart in his bare hands. Dedede led the way in. “Okay, so here’s how it works, Kirbs. You pick an ice cream and toppings, and they mix it all together for you.”
Kirby eyed the rows of jars filled with every candy imaginable. “Really?” he asked. “I can get all of them?”
Dedede smirked. “Funnily enough, that was Meta’s reaction, too.”
Kirby had gamely tried to exercise some self-control, and the end result was a monstrosity of cotton candy ice cream, overflowing with cookie pieces, chunks of chocolate, gummy worms, sprinkles, and hot fudge syrup. Dedede’s mint chocolate chip looked woefully plain and lonely by comparison. Still, Kirby ate happily because it was probably the best ice cream he’d ever had; maybe there was something to Dedede’s sugar as a cure for a broken heart philosophy.
“Y’know,” Dedede said, following several silent minutes of eating. “I wonder if I’m sometimes not as…I dunno, sympathetic as I should be. Maybe I’d be less…uh, hateful towards Nightmare if I had a dad.”
“You don’t?” Kirby asked. “What happened to him?”
“Oh, I never knew my dad,” Dedede said. “Neither did my mom. It was an artificial insemination kind of thing. She, uh, wasn’t gonna be able to have kids if she didn’t do something quickly, so she did that. All I know is that dad was pure-blooded Floralian. Mom’s in charge of the border, so she was trying to promote Dreamlandic-Floralian relations. It appalled most of the court, of course. A Dreamlandic royal of Bikaia’s own line getting impregnated with a Floralian nobody knew. Scandalous.”
Kirby didn’t know much about the aristocracy, but even he knew the importance of having heirs. This wasn’t the conversation he’d expected to have, but it was a bit of a relief to speak about something other than his dad. “But what did they expect her to do?” Kirby asked.
“Secure a proper marriage and produce a child the old-fashioned way,” Dedede said, “But she’d been trying for years. She’s still trying; if she marries wealthy and saves the house, I ain’t gotta. But she still wants to be happy, y’know? And I cain’t fault Mom for that. It’s just complicated. If our house fails, Alera gets to choose who rules our duchy.”
“But she’d have to pick someone the Floralians would approve of, wouldn’t she?” Kirby asked.
“You’d think,” Dedede said, “But I think Sectonia’s more interested in good relations with Floralia than her mom is. Ain’t Alera care about no one except people just like her.”
Kirby furrowed his brow, trying very hard to imagine the beautiful, powerful Queen Alera, who his mother had always insisted was a fair, benevolent monarch, as the same person who Dedede and Meta Knight both loathed so much. It felt like his entire world was changing around him. “Is that why Meta Knight dislikes her?” Kirby asked.
“In part,” Dedede replied. “I mean, she’s got this idea that Halcandrans belong in a certain place. Nova, you shoulda seen the fit she threw behind closed doors when the old Patchlandic king wanted to bring a few of his Halcandran knights. Cain’t have anyone showing up her Dreamlandic-blooded Queen’s Guard. Might start a revolution or something. And she don’t exactly like that Meta walks around her palace in full armor. She chewed my mom out good over that one. Like she thought the Halcandran-Dreamlandic War had just restarted in her dining hall.”
“But Meta Knight wore armor when we went to the palace,” Kirby said.
Dedede smiled broadly. “Well, yeah. And some of the nobles and Queen’s Guard might not like it, but they ain’t gonna say so. I mean, the Queen pointed it out, but even Alera cain’t control how a duchess wants to let the people in her service dress. And ‘sides, my mom challenged Alera to a duel over it, ‘cept my mom don’t duel, so she chose Meta as her champion. Alera didn’t outright refuse ‘cause that would be dishonorable, but she didn’t make no move to fight him either. We cain’t have her precious knights fighting or—Nova forbid—losing to a Halcandran, after all, can we?”
“So your mom caught the Queen of Dreamland in a legal loophole?” Kirby asked.
“Yep! And lemme tell you, Alera once made this snide comment about Meta being too insubordinate for her liking, and he looked her dead in the eye, and said, fight me. Like, Meta might have that sort of ‘you can trust me to walk your grandma ‘cross the street face, but he has a spine of freaking iron. ‘Course, Alera wouldn’t do it,” Dedede said, beaming. “I heard Jecra volunteered, but she wouldn’t let him. Kinda a pity. Meta would love to fight someone like that.”
“Wow. I don’t think I could ever…are you allowed to say that to the Queen?” Kirby asked.
“Sure. I mean, I know we’re all so respectful and all, but there ain’t legally nothing the Queen can do if someone’s rude to her. Sure, she can challenge you to a duel, but she cain’t imprison you or nothing. The Queen ain’t had that kinda power in fifty years or so.”
Kirby thought of the villagers he’d lived with; it seemed so much simpler than the sort of courtly mechanisms Dedede was talking about. Kirby thought of Tiff and Tuff, the cabinet minister’s children, who spent the long summers on the coast. They’d been nice and friendly. Everyone had been nice and friendly. Granted, Kirby’s magic was a taboo, carefully monitored by his mom, but he’d, at least, been proud that his father was Nightmare Nocturne, who was well-beloved by many common-blooded magic users.
And the same Nightmare who’d built one of the most powerful companies in Dreamland, who’d proved that neither magic, wealth, nor power were exclusive to the aristocracy was the same man who’d—evidently—kept his child locked away in the countryside somewhere. Who'd abused and neglected his child. Kirby had never seen a picture of Meta Knight as a child, but he imagined him lonely like Kirby, himself, had been. Poor Meta Knight.
“What was Meta Knight like as a teenager?” Kirby asked. “If…if Dad kept him out in the countryside, how did you meet?”
“He ran away from home. He was…I dunno. Kinda skittish, I guess. He didn’t trust no one. Real mouthy, too. He’s still mouthy. I’ve always liked that about him. It was kinda weird, though, ‘cause while he was so suspicious, he was always so…” Dedede trailed off. “I guess charmed. He was always so delighted at even the littlest bit of kindness. He’d get flustered and awkward if you so much as held a door open for him.”
Was he so delighted because he'd never been offered any kindness? Surely, it hadn't been...that bad, had it? Or...maybe it had. Kirby felt like there was so much lost time, like he and Meta Knight could've had a wonderful, loving childhood together. They could've played on the beach together. Did Meta Knight like the beach? Could he swim? “He seems happy,” Kirby ventured, “Living with you and Bandanna Dee.”
“Good. Means I’m doing something right with him,” Dedede answered. He used his spoon to break up his waffle bowl into his ice cream. “I wasn’t always so nice to him.”
“I can’t imagine you being mean to Meta Knight.”
“Oh, I was a terror as a teenager,” Dedede said. “I thought I was better than everyone else. I mean, I was born to be better than everyone else. Royal blood and all, and I never had a desire to talk to anyone…well, common. Nova, I was so mean to Meta. I used to go ‘round and embarrass ‘im in front of his friends.”
Kirby privately thought that Dedede was still a massive jerk, but he didn’t say so. “Oh,” he said instead.
“Yeah. But Meta ain’t gonna serve and live with me forever, of course. As brilliant and gorgeous and quick-witted as he is, he’s bound to get a better opportunity. Tons of opportunities!” Dedede said, smiling fondly. “He’s really so spectacular.”
Kirby felt like there was something that he couldn’t quite grasp, but he couldn’t imagine what it might be. How ever intimidating Dedede was, though, it was clear he adored Meta Knight. Kirby’s brother. Meta Knight Nocturne. Why hadn't their dad ever said anything? It would've been fun to grow up with Meta Knight. Kirby furrowed his brow.
“What about Dee?” Kirby asked. “How’d you meet him?”
“He’s my cousin. Real distant one. Part of the family that lost their title. He gotta real…” Dedede trailed off. “He struck out on the freaking parent lottery. Dee’s parents kicked him out over something ridiculous.”
“That’s awful,” Kirby said around a spoonful of cotton candy ice cream.
“Yeah, but we got each other,” Dedede replied. “That’s the important thing. You got a crappy family, you make your own.”
Dedede had reached the bottom of his bowl, and Kirby had nearly finished his. “Well, good talk, pipsqueak,” Dedede said. “Why doncha finish up? I’m gonna get Meta and Dee some. They’d be mad if they knew I came here and didn’t get them none.”
Kirby nodded. He watched as Dedede ordered a scoop of cookies and cream. Was that Meta Knight’s favorite? Dedede’s second order was something birthday cake, filled with a frightening amount of sprinkles and chocolate. Kirby snorted. He wasn’t entirely sure how taste factored into genetics, but some small part of him really hoped that Meta Knight was the one for whom that ice cream was intended. It would be really hilarious if his long-lost brother also had an insatiable sweet tooth. His long-lost brother, who hated their father. Or loved their father. His long-lost brother, who was abused by their father. Yes, that. It was all so confusing. Kirby wanted Meta Knight to be his brother, but...but how could he choose between Meta Knight, who he adored but had only known a couple months, and his father, who'd raised him?
Meta Knight had once been fond of hot, luxurious baths, but after running away and darting into showers at truck-stops, parks, and—once or twice—homeless shelters, Meta Knight had largely abandoned the practice of bathing in return for short showers. But he remembered that hot baths were pleasant, and since his pain meds weren’t quite effective enough, it was his last pitch effort. It did nothing for the pain, but since he’d already filled a tub with hot water and Bandanna Dee’s favorite bubble bath—which created much more impressive bubbles than Meta Knight’s shower gel—it seemed like he ought to at least enjoy the bath he’d made. Besides, it was a way to pass the time until Dedede returned. It seemed like he’d taken too long.
Meta Knight spent ten minutes trying to decide whether or not to leave his bath, grab his phone, and text Dedede. Was it too clingy to text him? Yes. Father would say so.
Did he care what Father would think?
It seemed like an eternity before Meta Knight heard the front door open. He sighed in relief and shifted a bit, trying to peer around the bathroom doorway. He didn’t have to work hard at it; Dedede walked into the bathroom. “Using the bathroom,” he declared.
Meta Knight tilted his head back and hummed. He didn’t particularly care to watch his oh-so-noble lord use the bathroom. Dedede sighed dramatically. “I don’t know why I—”
“If you’re about to tell me about how you’re urinating, please, don’t,” Meta Knight said. “You disgusting over-sharer.”
“The naked man in the bathtub says I’m an over-sharer,” Dedede replied. “Didn’t think that one through, did you?”
Admittedly, Dedede had a point. “Bite me,” Meta Knight said.
“Oh, with pleasure,” Dedede purred exaggeratedly. “Your collarbone looks delicious.”
“You should’ve stopped with the ‘pleasure’ bit. The part about my collarbone killed the joke,” Meta Knight replied.
Meta Knight only looked over at Dedede when he heard water running in the sink. Dedede washed his hands, using a gratuitous amount of the coconut-scented foaming soap. “What were you thinking about before I walked in?” Dedede asked.
“That it took you a long time to get back. Did something happen?”
“Kid started crying,” Dedede said. “I, uh, badmouthed your dad a bit.”
“You shouldn’t have. Kirby is his child. It’s understandable that he’d feel some attachment to his father.”
“Just like you.”
Meta Knight nodded sharply. Dedede sat awkwardly on the edge of the tub—awkwardly because Dedede was so large and the side of the tub so comparatively small. “Enjoying the view?” Meta Knight asked.
Dedede smirked. “I cain’t help it if you’re so adorable.”
Meta Knight flicked water at Dedede, who squeaked dramatically. “You just assaulted me!” Dedede exclaimed. “Me! I cain’t even—you’re outta control. What a bad servant. I’m gonna have to take some sort of disciplinary action for this.”
“Go ahead, then. What do you intend to do? Write me up?” Meta Knight said. “Terminate my employment?”
“Oh, I got the worst thing imaginable for you,” Dedede said. “Like, you cain’t even imagine.”
This was going to be something outrageous, wasn’t it? Clearly, this was some sort of bait, and Dedede would likely persist until Meta Knight took it. With an overly dramatic sigh, Meta Knight flicked water again at Dedede, who gasped and put a hand to his chest, undoubtedly mortally wounded by a few drops of water. “Discipline me, then,” Meta Knight said, leaning his head back against the shower wall. “My Lord.”
Dedede’s smirked as he left. Meta Knight warily eyed the bathroom door and waited for his friend to reappear. When Dedede did reappear, he sauntered in with a plastic bag tucked beneath his arm.
“You’re going to suffocate me with a plastic bag?” Meta Knight asked.
“And deprive myself the pleasure of tormenting you for the rest of your life? Not a chance, sugar-cakes.”
Dedede pulled the bag away like a magician doing a trick. In Dedede’s hand rested a pint of bright blue ice cream. “Kirbs and I went out for a treat.”
“That’s for me?” Meta Knight asked. “Is it birthday cake?”
“Complete with enough chocolate chips and sprinkles to satisfy an army of toddlers,” Dedede said.
Dedede dramatically handed over the spoon, and Meta Knight tried very hard to act like his inner child wasn’t absolutely delighted. “Not much of a punishment,” Meta Knight said, before taking a mouthful of cold, sugary bliss.
“Oh, it is. Those sprinkles are gonna cause irreparable harm to your reputation as a scary, intimidating knight-guy,” Dedede said.
Meta Knight sighed.
“I dunno why being pretty bothers you so much. You can still be Sir Meta Knight of Love and Justice even if you’re completely adorable,” Dedede said.
Meta Knight smiled in spite of himself. It was just as well that knight was part of his name because he, himself, would never be a real knight. Even Nightmare’s title and money, Meta Knight’s skill and desire for justice, and Dedede’s doting attention wasn’t enough to compensate for being born with the wrong blood.
Even if Meta Knight had managed to—miraculously—join the ranks of Queen’s Guard, he knew it wouldn’t be what he wanted. The same knights, who fought so well and upheld such values, weren’t devoid of corruption. Besides, they were all Dreamlandic or half-Dreamlandic and half-Floralian. There wasn’t a drop of Halcandran blood among them. Meta Knight would find himself constantly pushing against barriers to accomplish anything, and these were, also, the same people that had rejected Bandanna Dee over his gender identity. Meta Knight could imagine little more unpleasant than having to associate with people like that on a daily basis. The only benefit, realistically, would be that he’d finally be allowed to fight the best swordsmen in Dreamland.
“You ain’t gotta look intimidating to get the respect of people that matter,” Dedede murmured, rubbing his thumb over Meta Knight’s cheek. “That’s your dad’s approach. It ain’t gotta be yours. There ain’t no reason you cain’t be fair and honorable and a total cutie and still get people’s respect.”
Meta Knight took a bite of chocolate chip-gorged ice cream. “What kind of ice cream does Kirby like?”
“All kinds. He got cotton candy with lots of sprinkles and every kind of candy they had,” Dedede said.
“Hm.”
“How d’you feel ‘bout having a brother?” Dedede asked.
“I don’t know,” Meta Knight admitted. “On one hand, I don’t want anything to do with him. But on the other hand, I feel like I want a brother. I want a family that’s…normal, and I feel like I owe this to Kirby. If I don’t want to be his brother, I’m no better than Nightmare, who really seems to have just ignored Kirby.”
“No, it isn’t the same. Nightmare made a choice to have a kid, and he made a choice to treat you like he did. You didn’t make a choice to have a brother. And if you don’t wanna be Kirby’s brother, you ain’t gotta. You don’t owe him anything, Meta Knight.”
“Father promised he’d try better,” Meta Knight said.
Dedede sighed. “And d’you really believe him?”
“I don’t know if I believe him or just want to believe him. Logically, I think that my being…brothers with Kirby will end in disaster. But maybe I like the idea of Father really trying. Maybe I like the idea of us being, not close, but maybe decent. Together.”
“Look, Meta. I know he’s your dad. And yeah, okay, maybe he does kinda love you in his own way. Does that justify the way he treats you, though? Do the few promises and nice moments make up for all the other times?”
Meta Knight ate a spoonful of ice cream to keep from having to answer.
Dedede stared hard at him. “Look; if you wanna play Kirby’s brother, fine. I’m sure it’d make him happy. You cain’t live your whole life not doing things ‘cause you’re afraid of your dad tearing it all apart. As for Nightmare, you’ll do what you wanna. It don’t matter what I think. It ain’t my choice anyway.”
“You’re disappointed in me.”
“Naw, you’re just reading me wrong. I’d never be disappointed in you, caballerito,” Dedede said, running his fingers through Meta Knight’s hair and watching as the strands slowly fell.
“I’m still going to work for him. I owe him, and I don’t want to be indebted to Father. You can’t persuade me otherwise.”
“I know I cain’t. I just don’t trust him not to hurt you, but then, I guess that’s kinda hypocritical coming from me, ain’t it? I mean, damn, look at you! That’s some awful bruising.”
Meta Knight looked at his ribs, blotched with masses of black and green. “Stop beating yourself up over that. It wasn’t your fault, and Fluff and I did a number on you, too. My ribs are no worse than your shoulder,” Meta Knight said. “Or your face.”
“I ain’t the one that’s been drugged out on painkillers and lying in bed for the past few days.”
Meta Knight sighed. “I’m trying—”
“I didn’t mean there was shame in that,” Dedede replied. “Taking your time to get better ain’t a sign of weakness. Take all the time you need.”
Meta Knight took a few bites of ice cream. It was…odd to be told to take his time. Meta Knight didn’t take his time. He prided himself on his ability to shrug off injuries; he’d done so countless times before, disregarding the severity.
“Fluff is pretty good with that whip, ain’t he?” Dedede said, likely sensing that he’d made Meta Knight uneasy. “What d’you think’s gonna happen to him now that this has all come out?”
“Since what has come out?”
“This mess with Alera having Yin-Yarn control the King of Patchland,” Dedede said. “I—oh, I guess you ain’t been reading the news much, have you? Sorry. I’m used to you knowing everything. Someone leaked the story. The Dreamland Enquirer says they got A.M.B.E.R. documents backing it all up. Mom’s under investigation for giving out classified information, along with your dad and Fluff.”
“This won’t stick to my father—even if he did do it,” Meta Knight replied. “He knows how to cover his tracks, and too many people adore him. They’d say the Queen set him up to take the fall. Your mother, though…”
“She says she ain’t got nothing to hide. I called and asked her,” Dedede said, “And my mom’s pretty smart, y’know.”
But she didn’t have the resources that Nightmare did. She didn’t have the intimidating and heroic image that Nightmare, the common-born wizard who’d become wealthier than most of the old royal houses, had spent years cultivating. While the royalty and nobility generally loathed Nightmare, there were still many who admired him, who saw him as a champion for the common man and magic users. And he was. For all Nightmare’s cruelty, he was all too glad to play the hero when it suited him. But the only people that cared about Dedede’s mother were the ones living in her tiny, backwater duchy.
“Yes, I know,” Meta Knight said.
But cleverness didn’t matter if the Queen of Dreamland decided you were guilty.
“Good news is they ain’t questioning us,” Dedede said. “You were unconscious and didn’t have the chance to leak anything, and I spent all my time in the hospital. I figure we’re just kinda leverage anyhow if one of our parents don’t cooperate.”
Meta Knight sighed. “You know Father won’t,” he said.
“Well, it ain’t like they can really get much from you, unless they wanna look at all the weird stuff you were thinking of while concussed,” Dedede said. “Hopefully, we can put all this behind us and get back to school and have a few boring weeks, yeah? Things’ll be back to normal.”
“So I have to do chores again?” Meta Knight asked.
It hadn’t escaped Meta Knight’s notice that his usual chores of laundry and changing everyone’s bedding had been transferred to Bandanna Dee, and Bandanna Dee’s usual task of cleaning the kitchen and doing the dishes had been delegated to Dedede, who’d evidently been stuck with double-duty since he also cleaned the bathroom every couple of days.
“Maybe we wait a couple weeks to get you on your feet again,” Dedede said. “And ‘sides, Mom’s gonna pop over ‘fore she has to go back home, and she’d murder me if she came over and you were doing chores. She wanted to come see you today, but—y’know—A.M.B.E.R. agents are tearing her apartments apart.”
Your father is here, Galaxia murmured.
A few boring weeks? Not in Meta Knight’s lifetime, it seemed. Tell Dedede? Don’t tell Dedede?
Don’t. If Dedede knew, he’d want to pick a fight. Hopefully, Father would remain hidden until Dedede was gone. Meta Knight closed the tub of ice cream and handed it over to Dedede, who placed it on the sink along with the spoon. “Done already?” Dedede asked.
Meta Knight braced himself against the bathtub and pulled himself up, his ribs throbbing. Dedede shuffled back and gently grasped Meta Knight’s forearms. “Careful, there,” Dedede muttered.
Meta Knight grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist. “I could’ve gotten out on my own,” Meta Knight said. “I wouldn’t have decided to take a bath if I didn’t think I could get back out.”
Dedede opened the bathroom door and smirked broadly. “I think you would, actually. You’d get stuck in there and be too proud to admit it.”
He’s gone, Galaxia murmured, puzzled. He left you a couple things, but he didn’t stay around.
Meta Knight allowed himself a small smile as he leaned against the doorway of his room. “Maybe,” he said.
Dedede trailed his fingers through Meta Knight’s hair. “Meta, I—” Dedede paused. “I wondered if I could…”
Meta Knight raised an eyebrow. “It must be really absurd if you can’t say it.”
“Can I kiss you good night? I’ve just been feeling kinda funny since I got back, and I think I really need…some affection.”
Kiss him good night? Why was he so nervous about that? They'd known each other for almost six years, and during that time, Dedede had always been very liberal in showing affection. And heck, they'd seen one another naked on numerous occasions. How funny that Dedede would somehow find good night kisses to be the thing he had to ask about. Meta Knight laughed. “Really? That’s all? That’s fine.”
Dedede’s face brightened. He leaned close, and Meta Knight rolled his eyes. Dedede had to be so dramatic about everything—
Meta Knight, I don’t think you realize what he was asking.
And Dedede’s lips were on his. Meta Knight had never been kissed on the mouth before, and it was an odd feeling. It was warm and soft and strange. And why had Dedede kissed him on the mouth? Meta Knight put his hands on Dedede’s shoulders and pushed him back. Dedede furrowed his brow. “Did I do something wrong?”
“You kissed me!”
“You said I could,” Dedede replied.
“I didn’t think you meant on the mouth! I thought you meant like your mother does sometimes. Very infrequently. I mean, she doesn’t do it often, but I mean, that’s my only reference as far as kissing goes.”
“I dunno if I wanna kiss you like—I mean, oh. You were expecting—like—a forehead kiss, right? Not…not something like—I’m sorry. It didn’t mean anything. I just wanted a bit of…oh! I didn’t think! I just kinda assumed you’d…I’m so sorry, Meta Knight.”
Meta Knight felt his face warm. “No, no, it’s fine. It wasn’t terrible. I mean, it was fine. I was just startled. You’re a very affectionate person, and we’ve known each other a long time. You were caught up in the moment,” Meta Knight said. “That’s all. It’s been a rough week.”
Dedede laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah! A rough week. That’s all. I, uh, good night. I’m gonna go and put your ice cream in the freezer.”
“Great!”
Meta Knight gracelessly entered his room and closed the door behind him. Thank Nova his Father had left. If he’d still been around, Meta Knight would’ve never heard the end of this. He put a hand to his mouth. It was surely his imagination, but he swore he felt his lips tingle. His face felt warm. He must be blushing. “Did I like that, Galaxia?” Meta Knight asked.
She laughed.
“But I really don’t know,” Meta Knight replied. “It was…nice. And awkward. But maybe that’s just because I’ve never…”
I think you liked the gesture well enough. I think it’s the meaning behind it that you’re struggling with.
The meaning. “Yes, maybe it is that,” Meta Knight said. “I’ve just never…I mean, Father would never allow me…I mean, I work for Dedede. We can’t do things like that. I mean, Father—”
I don’t think it’s really your father’s place to tell a twenty-one-year-old man what relationships he can and cannot have.
“Dedede is royalty.”
He’s the son of a duchess, yes. You’re the son of a duke, though, aren’t you?
Meta Knight took a deep breath. “Technically.”
Technically, that makes you equals. Granted, Dedede’s title has a history and more prestige than your father’s, but your father also is significantly wealthier. You do work for Dedede, but does your contract not dictate that you can leave anytime, and—if you choose to leave—Dedede must pay you all the money you would’ve made had you continued working for him?
“Well, yes, it does,” Meta Knight replied. “I insisted on it in case our arrangement didn’t work. I didn’t want…”
You didn’t want to have to choose between working for an abusive lord and having money to survive, and Dedede trusted that you wouldn’t take advantage of him. I know. But you like Dedede. If you did quit and had the option, what would you do? Would you go elsewhere, or if given the option, would you continue living with him and doing your part to contribute to this household? I don't see why you couldn't quit working for him, take the severance pay, and be... something else if that's what you desire.
“I…I don’t know,” Meta Knight said.
The decision is yours, of course, Galaxia murmured, But if it’s the power imbalance that’s making you hesitate, I wonder if it’s really as great as you think it is. Of course, this isn’t even considering that one of you is capable of summoning tornadoes and flitting into other dimensions on a whim, and the other isn’t.
“You aren’t helping. You’re making it worse,” Meta Knight said, striding to his bed; he’d caught the glimmer of moonlight falling on something.
Worse? I’m merely asking you to analyze your own feelings, dear heart.
She didn’t have to be so amused about it, though.
The object was a small, glass paperweight, sitting benignly on a black folder. The paperweight was violet-blue with small spackles of silver stars strewn across its surface. Meta Knight felt Galaxia shift about in his mind, as she tried to study the object. “Do you give all your wielders relationship advice?” Meta Knight asked.
They never needed it.
Meta Knight weighed the glass paperweight in his hand. He considered tossing it out his window. “It’s probably made to spy on me somehow,” he said.
It was a gift from his father, though. Of course, he wouldn’t throw it away.
The university’s dorms came with a standard bed, closet, desk, and chair for each student. There wasn’t space for much else, so as a result, most of Meta Knight’s personal belongings ended up crammed in a desk drawer. Meta Knight opened the drawer and wedged the paperweight in amongst his father’s letters and various other presents. He had to take out the photo album to make it fit. Meta Knight paused and turned the album in his hands. It was one of the very few things he’d taken when he ran away. He opened the album and gazed at the first photo. It was one of the portraits Nightmare insisted on taking yearly, primarily for the purpose of the Saint Knight’s Day cards Customer Service sent out. A family man really tugs at the heartstrings of some of these old, affectionate fools, Nightmare had once said.
What better image than a poor, single father trying to raise his wayward, half-Halcandran son? Meta Knight wondered if Nightmare had ever been asked about his mother. If so, had he told the truth? Or had he merely painted a sympathetic image? Meta Knight could all too easily imagine his father weaving a tragic story of his beautiful wife dying in childbirth or in a car accident and leaving him, grief-stricken, with only their child to remember her by.
Meta Knight only knew her last name, and it’d taken no small amount of begging and promises to earn that information. He didn’t even know if his mother was full-blooded Halcandran or if she’d been part-Dreamlandic. Meta Knight only knew that he looked Halcandran, and his father did not.
Meta Knight traced a finger over the photo before him. The photo was a much younger Nightmare, not that Nightmare’s appearance had ever really changed much. The wizard’s eyes, grey and winter-cold, and his star-white hair were the same as Meta Knight’s own. Nightmare sat beside Haltmann, whose hair was still dark; years had made it white. The two men sat together on a vintage loveseat that Meta Knight only vaguely remembered. Meta Knight, himself, was maybe six or seven years old in the photo. He sat on the floor with Susanna, the two of them pretending to pour over a large gilded volume. It was strange looking at himself, so young, his hair undyed, his ears unpierced, his face so innocent and unassuming. It was stranger still looking at Susanna, her bright red hair gleaming in the light; he hadn’t seen her since he’d ran away.
Meta Knight flipped through a few more pages, trying to pinpoint the moment when Nightmare stopped being the loving, doting father that he’d once been. Or had he ever been the father Meta Knight imagined?
Meta Knight reached the last photo. It was just Nightmare and himself. Nightmare looked unchanged, save for the glasses perched on his nose; he could no longer tolerate sunlight. His hair was darker. Meta Knight stared at the image of his younger self, trying to discern some sign of displeasure or melancholy in his photographed self. There weren’t any. He looked as cold and composed as his father. His smile was polite and nothing more. It was a perfectly acceptable, inoffensive photo. Great for Saint Knight’s cards to dozens, if not hundreds, of people that Meta Knight had never known.
Meta Knight set the album aside and tossed Nightmare’s folder on top of it. It was probably the contract for his week of employment, and Meta Knight seriously doubted Nightmare would give as easily as Dedede had. The contract could be dealt with in the morning, possibly in the company of Duchess Delilah’s favorite attorney; that attorney owed her a favor or two. A contract for a week’s worth of work shouldn’t be very complicated, but it was never a good idea to take chances with his father.
Meta Knight dried himself and dressed. Then, after a few seconds’ deliberation, he opened his bedroom door. Dedede hadn’t wanted to share a bed since he’d returned, but still, Meta Knight left the door and the opportunity open. Just so Dedede would know that he was still in Meta Knight’s good graces. |
Kurt woke up slowly, snuggled into the warmth of someone holding him close. It felt like a very realistic version of his many dreams until he breathed in just a little too quickly and his head began to spin mercilessly. He couldn’t move for fear his head would actually explode and he wasn’t sure he could even speak because his mouth was so dry that he could barely swallow. He tried moving his arm just a tiny bit in hopes that he could somehow sit up, but that hope slipped away quickly as the waves of nausea kept him from even considering that option again.
“Fancy?”
“Mmmf.” Kurt was filled with panic, but couldn’t actually do anything about it.
“It’s okay. You’re alright. Well, I suppose you feel like you’re dying, but you’re going to live. Don’t move. I’ll come around and help you.”
Just a minute later, some pills appeared in front of Kurt’s face, along with a water bottle with a straw in it.
“Here. Open up enough that I can put these in your mouth or take them from me and swallow them.”
Kurt opened his mouth. Once he could tell the pills were in, he sealed his lips around the straw and drank.
“Drink some more, if you can. It will help.”
Kurt took a few more swallows. He lay as still as possible. He finally managed to form a coherent word. “Where?”
“You’re in my room, in my bed, Fancy. I didn’t know what else to do with you. I had to keep you safe.”
“Safe?”
“Yeah. Do you remember anything from last night?”
“We won.”
“Yeah, your field goal won the game last night.”
“Party.”
“Yeah. That too. You went to Strando’s to the party.”
“Dancing.”
“Oh, God. Yeah, you were definitely dancing. If I didn’t know you at least a little, I’d think you had exotic dancer as one of your future career goals.”
Kurt opened his eyes in a flash of panic.
“Don’t worry. You weren’t stripping like Brittany.
Kurt closed his eyes back and mumbled, “Jello.”
“Yeah, jello. Jello shots. You had at least five, maybe more. I’m not sure. But you were out of it. Those things pack a punch and all the sugar disguises the alcohol.”
“No more, ever.”
“Sounds like a reasonable plan. Just lay here for a few minutes. I’ll be right back.”
The door to the room opened 15 minutes later. Kurt opened his eyes again and was in a little less pain than before.
“I brought you a Gatorade. I know you probably don’t like it, but it will help rehydrate you.”
Kurt took a drink through the straw. “Thanks.”
“Try to eat this. You’ll feel better faster if you can keep it down.”
Kurt had closed his eyes back but heard the plate being placed on the side table.
“I can help you sit up, if you’ll let me.”
“M’kay.” Kurt allowed himself to be helped into a sitting position, leaning against the headboard. “Oh, God. My head.”
“Yeah, you have a killer hangover.”
“The jello?”
“Those were vodka jello shots. You had quite a few. I saw you down at least five in a row. That’s when I intervened.”
“I didn’t know.”
“I figured as much. You were hot and you had been dancing, but I didn’t see you drinking any alcohol. Then when I saw you in the kitchen take five of those shots, I started watching you.”
“Thanks.”
“If I could have gotten close enough to you to stop you, I would have told you. Try to eat the egg and the banana.” He handed Kurt the plate.
Kurt picked up half of a banana and attempted to take a bite. It took his full concentration to do it. He chewed it slowly and swallowed.
“You don’t seem to be panicking about needing to be home.”
“My dad thinks I’m at Tina’s with Mercedes.”
“I see.”
“When is he expecting you home?”
“He usually comes home at 2:00 on Saturdays. Sometimes earlier if I’ve been at the shop helping him. But I would guess 2:00 today, but he won’t be upset. If he wants to know what I’m doing, he’ll text me. Where is my phone?”
“Right next to you on the side table.”
Kurt picked it up. “I can’t see clearly at all. Do I have any missed texts?” He turned the phone.
“Nope.”
“Then, I’m fine.” Kurt managed to finish the banana and reached for the Gatorade again. He cut the egg in quarters and took a bite. “Why are you…? Why did you help me?”
“I didn’t want any of those jackasses to do anything to you.”
“But you treat me just like they do. This is the first time you’ve said more than five words to me that weren’t required of you.”
“I’m sorry, Fancy.”
“Why do you call me ‘Fancy’?”
“Your clothes, of course. You always come to school looking like you belong in some fashion magazine. You’re just too fancy and too posh for a place like McKinley, well Lima in general. You belong somewhere else.”
Kurt got the rest of the egg down and took another drink of Gatorade. He put the plate back on the side table. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I still feel like I’m missing something. You brought me to your house. You put me in your bed and slept with me. At school, you act like most of the rest of the jocks, like I have cooties and you could catch the gay from me.” Kurt closed his eyes again, trying to will his headache into going away. He felt the bed dip next to him.
“I’m not sure that now is a good time to tell you.”
“Well, it seems like the best time to tell me from my perspective. No one is here but us. And to be perfectly honest, if I could have moved when I woke up, I might have run out of here like the bed was on fire and driven straight home. Well, assuming that my Navigator is here. Otherwise, I guess I would have tried walking to Strando’s to retrieve my SUV.”
“It’s here. I drove it back here last night. I got a ride to the game with someone else. My truck’s in the shop. Don’t worry, though. I pulled your SUV into the garage, so no one driving by can see it.”
“Thanks, I guess.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Please answer me about why.”
“Alright.”
There was silence for at least five minutes.
“My hangover didn’t give me the ability to read minds. You’ll actually have to talk to explain it to me.”
“I know. First I just want you to know how incredibly sorry I am for how I behaved last year. And as for telling you, I’m afraid.”
“Of me? I can’t even move yet.”
“I’ve never told anyone.”
“Oh. It’s alright. You don’t have to say anything. I’ll just chalk the whole thing up to some crazy cosmic event that defies explanation. It’s fine. I’ll get up and get out of your house as soon as I can. I think maybe I just need a little more sleep, if that’s okay.”
“Um. Sure.”
“What time is it anyway?”
“9:23.”
“Okay. Wake me up again at 11:00, okay?”
“Sure thing, but drink some more of that Gatorade first, if you can.”
“Mm-hmm.” Kurt took a few more swallows and slid back down into the bed.
An hour and a half later, Kurt felt a slight pressure on his shoulder.
“Kurt, it’s 11:00. I brought you a Coke this time. I’m sure you don’t drink them, but the caffeine might help your headache. I’m not sure. I’ll put it here on the side table. You can open it if you want it.”
“M’kay. Thanks.” Kurt stretched a bit and slid up in the bed, a lot less dizzy than the previous time. “Can you do me a favor?”
“Maybe?”
“It’s an easy one, well for you anyway. Can you go get my duffel bag out of the back of my Navigator? I was hoping that maybe you’d let me shower and change. I really don’t want to go out looking like this.”
“Sure.”
A few minutes later, he heard the bathroom door move.
“I put your bag in my bathroom. Do you need some help up?”
“I think I’ve got it.” Kurt got up slowly and made his way into the bathroom.
“I put a clean towel and washcloth on the sink.”
“Thanks.”
A couple of minutes later, Kurt heard a knock on the bathroom door.
“I just wanted to tell you that I’ll be downstairs. I just heard my dad come in. I’m going to go run interference. Just stay up here. I’ll be back.”
“Okay.”
Paul Karofsky was standing at the kitchen island making himself a couple of sandwiches. Dave was sitting on a barstool facing him.
“So, you brought home the kicker from the football team because he took a bunch of jello shots at the party after the football game last night?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t get why you’re down here telling me this like it means something. You’ve brought home plenty of guys after sporting events. Some drunk, some not. But you’re telling me this like it’s important.”
“Dad …”
“Just tell me. I’m here for you. You know that. I know that something’s been bothering you, but I wanted you to come to me on your own. I know that teenagers don’t like their parents prying into their personal lives.”
“I’m gay.”
“Oh. That’s not what I was expecting, but okay. I’m not going to disown you or kick you out, if that’s why you were so hesitant to tell me.”
“I’m not afraid of you knowing. It’s Mother. I didn’t say anything because I know she won’t accept it. She hates gay people. That’s what’s been wrong with me lately. Every time she’s made negative comments about gay people, it’s personal to me. She spoils me and loves me, but I know it’s conditional. I know that the instant she finds out, it’s over. I won’t be her son anymore.”
“I’m glad you told me. Why are you telling me now, and what are you still not telling me about having the kicker here?”
“I like him. Like a lot. Enough to come out publicly so he might go out with me.”
“Oh, wow. Okay. I’m assuming he doesn’t know that yet.”
“He doesn’t. You’re the first person I’ve told that I’m gay.”
“Alright. Here’s what’s going to happen. Your mother is still at her ladies' retreat. She won’t be back until after church tomorrow. I want you to spend the day and night somewhere else tomorrow. I’ll be here for dinner Monday. We’ll talk more then. I’m going to go out until 6:00. I’d like to meet the boy you like. But I know that may not be possible since you don’t know how he feels about all of this. But if things go well, invite him to stay for dinner. I’ll get pizza and we can watch a movie, the three of us. Or if he leaves, just the two of us.”
“You don’t hate me?”
“Of course not. I may have been a jackass when I was your age, but I’ve learned a lot since then. People are born gay. It’s not a disease or something that can be or needs to be cured. You’re you. You’ve always been who you are. I’m not going to disown or punish you for being yourself. I realize that your mother is another story. But if she can’t be civil and love you for who you are, then she’s the one that will have to find somewhere else to live until she either gets over it or you move out after high school or college. Yes, I love your mother, but if she CHOOSES to walk away from you, that is her choice. You did not choose to be gay. I love you just like I always have and I always will. I’m going to head out and give you a chance to talk to this boy.”
“Thanks, Dad. I’ll see you at 6:00.”
Dave knocked on the door and opened it just a crack. “Kurt?”
“Yeah, I’m dressed. Come on in.”
“I’m ready to tell you.”
Kurt had pulled the covers up on the bed and propped the pillows up while he was waiting. He had sat down and was leaning against the headboard when Dave came back into the room.
He sat down at the end of the bed facing Kurt and took a deep breath. “This is hard for me. I just want you to know how sorry I am for how I behaved last year. It was a stupid jock freshman hazing thing, and I should have just refused to participate, but I wasn’t strong like you. I want to be part of the ‘in’ group.” Tears were running down his cheeks. “I was trying to hide. Hiding in the crowd. I’m so sorry.”
“So, you brought me here last night because you feel guilty about how you treated me last year? You were far from the worst. I mean mostly you just threw slushies. Some minor name-calling. A few light locker shoves. You didn’t really stand out amongst my tormentors calling attention to yourself by being the worst of the bunch.”
“That doesn’t matter. The fact that I did any of it was so wrong. And I’m so, so sorry.”
“You’ve mentioned how sorry you are several times. Is this some kind of penance?”
“No.”
Kurt closed his eyes again, getting a little frustrated. “I told you that you didn’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
“I do want to.”
“Alright.”
“I brought you back here to protect you. I was afraid of what the other jocks might do to you with as drunk as you were. I was afraid they would try to take advantage of you.”
“Advantage of me?” Kurt paused. “Oh. I don’t think any of them are interested in me that way.”
“Being drunk out of your mind can make people do things they normally keep suppressed.”
“You think one of them is secretly gay?”
“I know for certain there’s at least one.”
“Oh.” Kurt closed his eyes again. He was feeling better than earlier, but the sunlight in the room was still a bit much.
“It’s me.”
“What’s you?”
“I’m the one that I know for certain is gay.”
“Is this some kind of prank?”
“Definitely not. I’ve had a crush on you since, like, a year ago when we started at McKinley. I was pretty sure I was gay before high school, but the first time I saw you, my suspicions were confirmed.”
“Okay." Kurt struggled to wrap his mind around what he was hearing. "So you’re gay and you have a crush on me? And you brought me here when I was out-of-my-mind drunk to protect me from any of the other jocks who might have tried to … hurt me.”
“Yep.”
“That’s actually really sweet. So, the insults about the way I dress?”
“Not really insults. I say them sarcastically so that no one will know how hot I think you are.”
“Pulling pigtails?”
“Pretty much.” He nodded. “But last night, you were … so sexy, dancing like that. I just knew I couldn’t leave you there. I don’t know if there are any other closeted jocks, but I like you so much. I just couldn’t let one of them hurt you.”
“You think I’m sexy?”
“Um, yeah. Definitely.”
Kurt didn’t know what to do with the answer he got. They sat in silence for a few minutes. “Do your parents know?”
“I told my dad when you were in the shower. My mother is going to flip out. My dad’s going to tell her tomorrow when she gets back from her church retreat. He said for me to find somewhere to spend the day tomorrow and tomorrow night so he can deal with her reaction.”
Kurt patted the bed next to him so that Dave would move closer. Once he did, Kurt reached out his hand and offered it to Dave. “I’m sorry.”
Dave took his hand. “No reason for you to be sorry. You didn’t make her a bigoted homophobe. That’s what’s caused me so much stress and made me such a pain in the ass more than anything. She’s always spoiled me rotten. I’m an only child. Once I got old enough to realize that I really didn’t like girls the way I was supposed to and that guys made me feel that way instead, I knew that my time with her was nothing but a farce, but it’s hard. I do love her and I want her to still love me, but she won’t. But I can’t keep going the way I’m going. I’m not that guy that I see myself becoming.”
“What do you mean?”
“If I keep this up, keeping all of my disappointment and anger inside, and bullying people, I’m going to turn into … I don’t know. I just don’t want to be that guy.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yeah. You’re 16 like me, I’m assuming. You have time to change.”
“I know I’m big and chubby, and I’m not good-looking like you. And I’ll understand if you aren’t interested in dating me. I mean just because I’m the only gay guy you know, doesn’t mean we have to date. But can we at least try to be friends?”
“I’m not sure who told you that you aren’t good-looking, but they were lying.”
Dave blushed.
“And I’m not opposed to considering dating you, but I’m not sure that we have anything in common at all. We have to at least enjoy talking to each other or something. Otherwise, all we’d do would be make out.”
Dave swallowed hard at the thought of making out with Kurt. “Um. I like to read. I’m not actually a dumb jock. I know I portray myself that way, but I’m in Precalc and Chemistry this year.”
“I see. I’m in Algebra 2. I took Algebra in the 8th grade.”
“Me too, but I took Geometry and Algebra 2 both last year.”
“I’m in Spanish and French. No time to take two math classes last year. What’s your GPA?”
“3.9. I got a B+ in French both semesters last year.”
“You’ve done an amazing job of pulling off the dumb jock façade.”
“Thanks, I think.”
Kurt laughed. “Oh, God. My head. No laughing.”
“I like your laugh.” David squeezed Kurt’s hand.
“So, if we talk more and decide that we think we have enough common interests to give this a shot, are you going to stay in the closet? I’m not sure how I would deal with that, but I know for certain that you’d have to give up bullying people. High school is this really short period of time that feels like forever while we’re living through it, but it’s really not. And you did already say you don’t want to keep heading in the direction you’re going.”
“I don’t. And I will come out—if you decide that you’re willing to give me a chance. I’ll even join the football team to make sure none of them come after you for ‘turning me’ or whatever stupid thing at least one of them will say.”
“You’re on the hockey team. The Puckheads clash with the football team all the time over who’s top dog.”
“Like you said, in less than three years, no one will care who was the top dog.”
“The jocks are likely to take it badly and torment you.”
“If you’ll go out with me, it would be worth it.”
“You’re serious?”
“I am. But be honest—if you don’t think you could ever like someone who looks like me, just tell me now.”
“You’re cute. And I love the muscles. I’m definitely into the muscles. I know, very shallow of me, but you asked me to be truthful. I’m not into porn at all, but I have a stack of vintage muscle magazines that I like to peruse frequently.”
Dave laughed. “Seriously? Vintage muscle magazines?”
“Yep. And your arms would fit right in.” Kurt turned a deep red from blushing so much.
“I see.” Dave blushed again.
“Obviously, I’m behind in the development department and who knows if I’ll ever catch up. High voice, no facial hair, things like that. But my dad took me to an endocrinologist to make sure everything was okay when my voice never dropped. I definitely have an age-appropriate sized … you know.”
“I know. I’ve seen.”
“How?”
“I may have hung back and spied on you in gym class last year, once or twice.”
“You perv,” Kurt laughed. “Oh, God. No laughing. Well, it’s definitely not fair that you’ve seen me undressed and I haven’t seen you.”
Dave blushed again. “You want me to get undressed?”
“You need a shower, don’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“So, just leave the door open and I’ll perv on you from here. Nothing up close and personal.”
“You’re serious?”
“Well, fair’s fair.”
“Okay.” Dave moved to get up to go shower. He went to his closet first to grab some jeans. He grabbed underwear as he passed his dresser. He went into the bathroom and left the door open and got undressed and got in the shower, his face flushed from knowing that Kurt was watching him. Barely more than five minutes later, he got back out of the shower, dried off, and got dressed. He shaved, brushed his teeth, grabbed his sweats on the way out, and dumped them in his hamper. He looked over at Kurt.
“You’re not chubby. You just wear clothes that are unflattering to your body type. I could help with that.”
Dave laughed. “I’m sure you could, Fancy, but I’m not sure that my allowance could take a shopping trip with you.”
“Oh, you’d be surprised. I might look like a million bucks, but I shop on a shoestring budget.”
“Well, then, maybe I’ll let you take me shopping. I just wear whatever my mother hangs in my closet. Since I never had any interest in attracting girls, I never cared how I dressed. But I could be persuaded to change my look.”
Kurt smiled at him. “Your arms are amazing.”
“And your ass is fantastic.”
Kurt turned red.
“You started it.” Dave laughed. He pulled a shirt out of the closet and put it on.
“I think you’re wearing the wrong size.”
“Well, if you decide you want to date, one of our dates can be a shopping trip to get me a new outfit.”
“Mmm. Bribery.”
“Is it working?”
“It might be,” Kurt smiled.
Dave sat back down on the bed next to him and took his hand. “This okay?”
“Yeah. I’m scared that you’ll break my heart, that this is some kind of joke, that you’ll turn on me, and everyone will torment me even worse.”
“I can see how you’d be scared of that. I’m scared too. I may be big, but that doesn’t mean that I’m not afraid of the jocks finding out. Azimio and I have been friends since kindergarten. I already know I’m going to lose my mother. Losing him too would be really hard. It’s scary.”
“I lost my mom when I was eight. I know how hard it is to lose someone you love.”
“I didn’t know.”
“I figured you didn’t. We never went to school together until last year. Are you sure you want to date me bad enough to face all of the crap that’s going to happen at school? You’re going to get slushied.”
“Honestly, I’m more concerned about what they’ll do to you since some of them are dumb enough to think you can turn people gay.”
“Yeah.”
“If I could get Z on our side, it would make a big difference.”
“I can see that. New topic. Back to things we have in common. Do you like music? Do you sing?”
Dave blushed.
“You do. You sing?”
Dave nodded.
“Sing for me, please?”
“Can I just sing along with something?”
“Sure. I don’t expect you to have backing tracks and something prepared.”
“Give me a minute.” He got up and looked through his CDs and put one in. He sang along with the whole song.
Let me go home.
It’ll all be alright.
I’ll be home tonight.
I’m coming back home.
“Oh, my God. You’re a crooner. Your voice is gorgeous.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really.”
“I love the feeling in that song. I want to feel that. I want to have someone to go home to someday. I don’t want to date girls that I’ll never be attracted to. I’m torn when I listen to that song because coming out is so scary, but staying in the closet is killing me too.”
“Come back and sit with me, please.”
Dave sat on the bed next to Kurt again.
Kurt picked up the Gatorade and drank more of it. “Do you like old movies?”
“I do. You can take some more painkillers.” Dave offered him two more from the bottle he had put on the side table on his side of the bed.
Kurt took them and swallowed them. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
“What about musicals?”
“I like the old ones that I’ve seen on DVD. I’ve never been to a live show anywhere.”
“Would you go?”
“With you, I would.”
Kurt smiled and offered his hand to Dave again, who quickly took it.
“My dad wants to meet you. He’s coming back at 6:00 with pizza. He said we can watch a movie together and eat the pizza. If you’ll stay, I’ll let him know what you like on your pizza so he doesn’t get something you’ll hate.”
“I know you’ve already come out twice today, but how would you feel about going with me to the shop and telling my dad?”
“Scared, but I’ll do it as long as it’s just the three of us.”
“I don’t want to lie and sneak around behind my dad’s back anymore. It’s been just the two of us for eight years. If you’re serious about us dating, at least he has to know, even if you don’t come out to anyone else at school. I want him to allow me to come here and allow you to come over.”
“Okay.”
“Only if you’re sure. I don’t want to pressure you. You can think about it if you want, but I won’t lie to him. I can just head over there and tell him the truth about last night without naming you. And just so you know, I’ve never come out to my dad either. I mean, everyone knows, I guess. But I’ve never actually said the words to him.”
“Do you think he’ll be okay with it?”
“I do. There’s still that small voice that says he might not be.”
“Before we jump ahead to that, let’s talk some more.”
“Alright.”
“Do you like any sports stuff?”
“I find televised sporting events really boring, to be honest. I don’t think I would mind watching games if the team had people on it I actually knew. I’m not sure. Is that the deal breaker, that I don’t like to watch sports on TV?”
“Not necessarily, but it would be more fun if you liked to do it with me.”
“I would sit with you and snuggle up, well, I guess that would depend on whether you like to snuggle. But I could sit with you and read or something. We could be close, even if I don’t like watching the actual event.”
“Can I scoot closer? I’m pretty sure that I’ll really like snuggling with you, but we could try it out for a few minutes.”
Kurt nodded.
Dave scooted closer and lifted his arm to allow Kurt to move a little closer and lean in. Kurt leaned his head back against Dave’s shoulder. Dave wrapped his arm around Kurt’s side. Kurt reached out and interlaced his right hand with Dave’s left, which was across his chest. He closed his eyes and tried to relax. They sat that way for several minutes before either one of them spoke.
“So, what do you think?” Kurt asked.
“I really like it. You?”
“Me too. What else do you like to do?”
“Um. Camping, fishing, bowling, swimming, and my dad and I golf. That’s where he was this morning. We have a boat that we could take out to the lake.”
“I like all of those things, except I’ve never been golfing.”
“Really?”
“Really. I do those other things with my dad usually. But he might be okay with me going with you and your dad or the four of us going. We don’t have a boat, but my dad would love to go fishing on one. He loves Deadliest Catch.”
“So does my dad.”
“On the former topic of sports, I like playing sports. So, playing basketball or tossing a baseball around or playing Frisbee or something would be fine. I even own a baseball glove. I just quit trying to play with other guys once puberty began to hit everyone. None of them wanted me around in the locker room. And the guys would get really bent out of shape if I out-performed them. It was like the way guys get if a girl is better than them at some sport. It just wasn’t worth the hassle.”
“I can see how that would be the case. Some guys have serious issues with that. But I like playing sports just for fun too. Not everything has to be about winning and being the best at something. Do you like video games?”
“Some. I don’t have an Xbox or a Playstation, which is mostly what I hear the other guys talk about. I’m not really into games where the entire objective is just to push a couple of buttons in a certain order to kill all of the members of the other team. I like puzzle-type games or games of skill and critical thinking.”
“I like both.”
“So, it seems to me that we wouldn’t be completely bored spending time together.”
Dave squeezed him just a bit. “Seems that way.”
“Can I kiss you?”
“Hypothetically? Like can you kiss me if we date? Or are you asking me right now?”
“Right now.”
“Okay. I’ve never kissed anyone.”
“Me neither. But I guess I want to know if there’s any spark. You wanted to know if I’d date you and if not whether we could try being friends. Kissing you seems to be a way to find out if there’s any spark.”
“Yeah. Okay.”
Kurt turned and rearranged a bit. He moved so their lips were nearly touching. “You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.”
They both moved forward just the tiniest bit and their lips barely touched. They both pressed in until they were actually kissing. After a couple of minutes, they pulled back to take a breath.
“Wow.”
“Yeah.”
“I get all the hype about it now,” Kurt said.
Dave laughed.
Kurt moved and turned so that he was facing the headboard, but still leaned against Dave’s side. He leaned forward and kissed him again. Dave wrapped his arm around Kurt’s back and neck to support him and kissed back.
“I’m 100% convinced we should go tell your dad.”
Kurt laughed. “Is that so?”
“Mm-hmm.” Dave leaned forward and kissed Kurt again. “I didn’t think anything could be better than my imagination about doing that, but I was wrong. Completely wrong.” He kissed Kurt again. “I think I could do this all day long. God, you’re so hot.”
Kurt blushed. The girls had called him cute and adorable, but sexy or hot wasn’t something he had expected to hear about himself, and hearing it shot right through him. Kurt licked at Dave’s lower lip. Dave moaned and followed Kurt’s lead and did the same thing. It wasn’t long before they were exploring each other’s mouths thoroughly. Kurt slowed them back down and went back to more chaste kisses.
“We have to cool down or I’m going to need more clothes and I don’t have any more with me.”
“M’kay.”
Kurt pulled back a little to reach for his phone to see the time. “It’s 12:30. Let’s go talk to my dad. Maybe your dad would be okay with my dad coming for pizza too. Maybe they’d both feel better if they met?”
“Okay. I’ll ask my dad. Why don’t you grab your stuff and we’ll head out.” Dave texted Paul.
Kurt went into the bathroom, packed up all of his stuff, and came back out.
“He said it’s fine to invite him.”
“I’ll go in and talk to him first, then I’ll come out and get you and take you inside with me.”
“Okay.”
Kurt went inside and got Burt’s attention and got him to go into the office with him. Kurt closed the door behind them.
“I need to talk to you.”
“Okay.” Burt sat down at his desk. “ Are you okay? You seem really serious.”
Kurt sat down in one of the chairs facing Burt’s desk. “Well, something happened last night that could have ended very badly, but someone was looking out for me and I’m fine.”
“Explain.”
“I found out what jello shots are this morning when I woke up with a hangover from hell.”
Burt laughed.
“Well, I’m glad someone sees the humor in this. So, I didn’t drink any alcohol at all. I had some bottled water and a can of Diet Coke that I opened myself and never set it down anywhere to keep it from being spiked. I learned my lesson about alcohol last week.”
“And you downed how many jello shots?”
“Less than ten, more than five.”
Burt laughed again. “Sorry, bud. I should have told you about those. I guess I just didn’t realize that you didn’t know about them.”
“They were just nice and cold and I was so hot from there being so many people and everything.”
“I’m not mad at you. You learned the hard way. I’m sorry about that.”
“Well, no more jello for me for a while.”
“Yeah, I bet not. So, you said someone was watching out for you.”
“Yes, but I’ll get to that in a minute. There’s something else I want to tell you first.”
“Alright.”
Kurt leaned forward, propped his elbows on his legs, and put his forehead down on his hands.
“Hey, Kurt. It’s okay. I’m not going to ground you or something. You didn’t do it on purpose.”
“It’s not that. You came downstairs and found me and Britt and Tina dancing.”
“Yeah.”
“And you asked if one of them was my girlfriend.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I lied.”
“I know.”
“You aren’t mad?”
“Nah.”
“I’m gay.”
“I know. I’ve known since you were three. I love you just the same. I just wanted to give you the freedom to tell me when you felt comfortable enough to do it on your own.”
Kurt wiped away a few tears and nodded. He took a deep breath and started to talk again. “Okay. The person who was watching out for me is one of the jocks.”
“Really?” he asked in a disbelieving tone.
“Yes, really. He drove my Navigator to his house and took me in and put me to bed.”
Burt raised his eyebrows.
“In my clothes, which I will add does not make you feel better when you wake up with a hangover from hell. Sleeping in skinny jeans is not comfortable.”
Burt laughed again. “Sorry. Okay. So, this jock took you to his house, let you sleep off the jello shots in your clothes in a bed, and took care of you. That was surprisingly nice of him given how few of the jocks have ever seemed to be even remotely tolerant.”
“I’m not going to lie and say that it was someone that had previously been nice to me, but he’s never been outright vicious to me. He’s not a football player, so he’s not one of the ones that nailed our lawn furniture up on the roof.”
“I know there are other things that go on. You just don’t share them thinking that you’re protecting me. You know that just makes me worry more, right? Fearing the unknown is worse than knowing what is going on.”
“Sorry. I didn’t think about it that way.”
“I know, kiddo. You try to protect me, but it’s supposed to be the other way around. Anyway, this jock that took care of you last night isn’t one of the completely awful ones, but he’s never been supportive.”
“Right. I’d like you to meet him. He drove me here. I’m not drunk, but I still have a headache.”
Burt nodded. “Fine. Go get him.”
Kurt came back a few minutes later with Dave following along behind him. “Dad, this is David Karofsky.”
“You Paul’s kid?” Burt reached out to shake his hand.
David shook it. “Yes, sir.”
“Don’t ‘sir’ me.”
“Yes, Mr. Hummel.”
“Have a seat, kid. And just call me ‘Burt’.”
“I’ll try.”
He and Kurt sat down facing Burt.
“So, you kept Kurt safe last night. I appreciate that.”
“You’re welcome. I didn’t want anything bad to happen to him. I saw him down five jello shots before I could make it through the crowded kitchen to get him to stop. I hadn’t seen him drink anything all night. I knew he didn’t know there was alcohol in them when he downed them all in succession like that.”
“I took one of each color.”
Burt laughed. “I get it, kiddo. They looked good and you had no idea.”
Kurt just shook his head, aggravated with his own naïveté.
“I’m glad you looked out for him.”
“There’s something else I want to tell you.”
“What’s that?”
“I’ve liked Kurt for over a year now.”
“Liked? As in you’re gay?”
“I am. I just told my dad this morning. I told Kurt about 30 minutes later.”
“I see. So, when you took him home last night?”
“He was passed out cold. I carried him upstairs. I took his shoes off and put him in bed. I just kept him safe. But with as many of the guys that were drunk, I didn’t want to leave him there. One of them could have … well, you know.”
“I do.”
“Dave and I have spent the last couple of hours talking. He asked me to date him and I said ‘yes’.”
“I see. Do you have anything in common?”
“That’s what we talked about. We do. And his dad invited us over for pizza and a movie. This whole thing is a surprise to him. He had no idea that Dave was gay. I know I just told you today too, but you said you knew.”
“Yeah. So, pizza. What time?”
“6:00.”
“What about your mom?”
“She won’t be there. I have to find someplace to stay tomorrow during the day and tomorrow night when my dad tells her. It won’t go well. She’s very religious and very homophobic. She’s at a ladies' retreat right now. My dad said that he will side with me because he loves me and I didn’t choose to be gay, and my mother is choosing to hate gay people. So, more than likely when I go home for dinner Monday night, my mother will have moved out. She will probably try to convince him to force me into some type of corrective therapy. Hopefully, my dad can prevent that from happening.”
Burt gave him his phone number. “Text your address to me, so I know where to be at 6:00. Paul and I will talk this evening.”
“You two know each other, I take it,” Kurt said.
“Not well, but yes. He was two years ahead of me in school. We played football together for a couple of years in high school. But you know how it is—the upperclassmen don’t really have that many younger friends. He went off to college and law school and got married before he moved back. I went to JC here in Lima, then took over running the shop. Paul brings their cars here to get them worked on. We’re long-time acquaintances for lack of a better description.”
Kurt nodded.
“Give Dave your keys. I want to talk to you for just a couple more minutes.”
“He still has them.”
“It was nice meeting you,” Dave said as he stood up to leave the office.
“Yeah. You too, kid. I’ll see you and your dad later.”
Dave nodded and shut the door behind him.
“You’re sure about this?”
“As sure as any teenager is about having their first boyfriend. He’s cute, Dad. He was really nice to me this morning. He had water and painkillers waiting when I woke up. He sincerely apologized for his past behavior. He made me breakfast in bed and gave me Gatorade and a Coke. He was really trying to make me feel better.”
Burt nodded.
“And you asked if I’m sure. Think about this. I know it’s a ridiculous scenario, but try hard to imagine.”
“Okay.”
“What if you were 16 and you had never met a straight girl? Every girl you had met your ENTIRE life had been a lesbian.”
Burt laughed.
“I know, Dad. I told you it was ridiculous, but focus. Think about it. You’re 16 years old and you have NEVER met a straight girl. Not a single girl you ever met would consider dating a boy.”
“I got it.”
“And maybe that girl didn’t seem to be a 100% match, but maybe 60% or 70%, and she told you that she had liked you for a year and that you were handsome and attractive and she wanted to date you. Would you have just turned her down without giving it a try, knowing that your chance of meeting another straight girl in the next three years was really slim?”
“I get it. You’ve never had a chance to do the social dating that people your age do. I’m just not sure I’m ready for this.”
Kurt laughed at him. “Dad, I’m 16. So is Dave. It’s not like I’m 12.”
“I’m not ready for you to … I’m not ready to be the parent of an older teen. It was easier when you were 12.”
Kurt laughed at him again. “If you’re thinking that I’m going to run right down to the free clinic for condoms, you’ve gotten the wrong impression. He and I seem to have enough things in common not to get bored with each other in 30 minutes, but we’ll just have to see. But oh, God, he’s got the most amazing voice.”
“He sang for you?”
“He did. He’s a crooner.”
Burt laughed. “Well, that makes him all the more dangerous. He can woo your clothes right off with his smooth voice.”
“Maybe.”
“Kurt Eli Hummel!”
“I’m teasing you,” Kurt smirked and winked. “I need you to be an adult about this. Please, please do not act like I am your 14-year-old virgin daughter who is about to be deflowered.”
Burt rolled his eyes.
“I know you. You’re overprotective. But I am NOT a girl. I do NOT need my virtue, or virginity, or whatever, protected and defended by my father. This isn’t some medieval fiefdom where you’re guarding my innocence so I can bring a better price. If and when I decide that I’m ready to have sex with someone, I will use whatever protection is needed. I am fully aware of potential STIs and I do know where the free clinic is.”
“I am not ready to have this conversation.”
“Whether you’re ready or not isn’t my problem, you know. The hands of time don’t stop moving forward because you want me to remain a child.”
“I know. I really do.”
“Maybe you should go down to the clinic and educate yourself if that’s what makes you so hesitant to talk about this with me. I took health last year and the entire sexual health section was like two pages long and basically said ‘Don’t have sex and you won’t get this list of 20 horrible STIs.’ I haven’t actually been to the clinic, but if you want to have a serious conversation about this with me, maybe you should go.”
“Probably a good idea.”
“Now, just so you know, I do not consider myself ready to have sex, but when that changes, it will be up to me to decide, not you. Being gay and being the smaller male in this particular relationship does not automatically make me the bottom or the so-called ‘girl’. Even if I decide that I like to be the bottom, that won’t make me the girl.”
“Yeah. I get it. I’ll do my best.”
“Please do. I really want to give this a shot. Maybe I’ll get my heart broken. Maybe I won’t. But I want to do this on my own, without pressure from you about what I can and can’t do. You’re not going to go all ‘Open doors.’ and ‘He can’t come over unless I’m home.’ or ‘You can’t go there unless his dad is home.’ Are you?”
Burt looked guilty.
“Not happening. I came to you fully disclosing our relationship today. I came out to you and told you what happened at the party. I came clean about the alcohol incident at school last week. If you implement those types of rules, you’re asking me to lie and sneak around. Do you value truth in our relationship?”
“I get it.”
“Answer me, please.”
“I don’t want you to lie to me.”
“Then don’t start by implementing ridiculous rules.”
“They’re not ridiculous.”
“They are. If I can’t have him over or go over to his house unless a parent is at home, then I won’t get to spend much time with him. It’s not like we can be like a heterosexual couple and just sit at the park holding hands while talking. We’re safe in our houses. Let us be together where we’re safe.”
“I’ll think about what you’ve said and we’ll all talk tonight. Don’t leave the poor kid sitting outside waiting for you any longer.”
Kurt nodded and stood up.
“Thanks for telling me, Kurt.” Burt stood up and wrapped Kurt in a quick bear hug. “I love you. And I appreciate you telling me the truth.”
“I love you too, Dad.” Kurt squeezed him back.
“So, what do you want to do for the rest of the afternoon? Do you want to go to my house? Back to your house?”
“I’ve never been to your house. Let’s go there.”
Kurt gave him directions on how to get there. He pressed the garage door opener and Dave drove in. Kurt closed it once they were in. He grabbed his bag out of the backseat. Dave followed him to the door and waited for Kurt to unlock it. He followed Kurt inside.
“My room’s in the basement. Mini tour. To the left is the half-bath. To the right, the foyer and the front door.” He pointed to the stairway between where they were standing and the front door. “The stairs go up to my dad’s bedroom and office.” He stepped through the narrow foyer into the living room. “Living room, obviously. To the right, you can see into the kitchen. In the back corner is the doorway into the dining room.”
Dave nodded. “Got it.”
“That door next to the kitchen leads down into the basement.” Kurt led Dave across the living room and opened the door to the stairway that led down to his room. Dave followed him down the stairs. Kurt slipped his shoes off. Dave noticed and followed his lead and slipped his off as well.
“So, this is it.”
“It’s nice. You have a lot of room.”
“Yeah, on the upper level, there’s a large bedroom, a bathroom, and basically an office. It’s a decent office, but really small to be a bedroom. They used it as my room until I was about four. The doctors had told my mom that she couldn’t have kids after she had tried for so long and hadn’t been successful. They bought this house because they didn’t need much room for just the two of them. And then I came along as a surprise. My dad had a basement and the dining room addition put on. He had an electrician and plumber do what had to be done, and then he finished the interiors of both levels himself. I helped him make a slight change before I started high school. I wanted my closet area enclosed, so we moved the bathroom door and put in a walled area across the closet, creating a walk-in closet.”
Dave walked around the room looking at Kurt’s stuff. “It’s very you.”
“Thanks. It gives me room to dance and sew and it’s kind of like my own little apartment. I spend a lot of time in here.”
“You don’t have a bed?”
“Oh, that couch folds down into a queen-sized bed. I don’t really lie around in bed much, so when my dad said it was time for a new bed, I convinced him to let me get that instead. I’m more comfortable sitting on it and reading and watching stuff, plus when it’s in its couch form, it takes up less floor space than an actual bed and when it’s in its bed form, I get more room to stretch out than I would on a twin bed.
“I have a TV in my room. I’m not sure whether you noticed or not. So, I end up spending most of my time in my room too.”
“Your room is actually bigger than mine. I end up watching movies on my laptop a lot of the time because my dad and I don’t like the same shows. Dad bought me a Wii a couple of Christmases ago, which is a lot of fun to play. I know it’s not the kind of video game system most high school guys have, but I like it. It’s hooked up to the big TV in the living room. I usually play when he’s not home. Do you like any of the Wii games?”
“Sure. Wii Sports Resort has some fun games on it. And I love Mario games. I’d have to see what games you actually have to tell you whether I’ve played them and like them.”
Kurt smiled. “I have Wii Sports Resort and a couple of Mario games. You can look at them when we go back upstairs. What kind of books do you like to read?”
“It depends on my mood. I like some of the popular ones like Harry Potter and Artemis Fowl, but I also like biographies. Not all the time, but sometimes. It’s interesting to read about how someone lived a completely different life than I’ve ever experienced.”
“Well, you are full of surprises.” Kurt walked up to him. He put his hands on Dave’s shoulders and rose up on his toes and kissed him gently. “Still interested in being my boyfriend?”
Dave wrapped his arms around Kurt and pulled him close. “Most definitely.”
“Let’s talk some more. If you want something to drink I have a mini-fridge in the corner over there.”
“I’m fine for now, but thanks.” He sat down on the couch.
Kurt sat down on the end and pulled his feet up criss-cross and rotated so that his back was against the end of the couch. “Dating me is going to turn your life on end. I’ll understand if you want to change your mind and call it off after we talk and after our dads get together tonight. I can’t promise I’ll wait for you until after high school, but we can still be friends, even if you don’t want to date after tonight.”
“I know it’s going to be crazy. I don’t want to keep living a lie. It would be one thing if I were like a closeted loner nerd, no offense meant to nerds. I just mean that being a gay jock is really hard. Practically no professional sports players are out. So, either the gay ones are still in the closet hoping to never get outed or they gave up being a professional athlete and chose another career rather than deal with the hate.”
“Do you want to be a professional athlete?”
“I don’t know that I’m good enough, but I guess I had thought about being able to play hockey in college. Maybe get a hockey scholarship? But hockey’s really dangerous. Having people who hate you wearing the equivalent of sharp knife blades on their feet isn’t reassuring. And the rules in hockey allow players to be roughed a lot as it is. And a whole group of people being that rough intentionally all the time…” He shook his head. “I just don’t know.”
“And football?”
“I could play on the offensive line. I played in junior high. I don’t hate it or anything. Why did you join?”
“It was stupid. I was down here dancing with Britt and Tina and my dad caught me wearing a … anyway, he came down here because the music was loud and I made up something stupid about what I was wearing because I was embarrassed. And Britt said that I was on the football team and that I was the kicker since I’m so small.”
Dave laughed.
“Yeah. It was hilarious. So, I got Finn to get Coach Tanaka to give me a chance. He helped me practice, and I was decent at it, surprisingly, especially considering that I had never kicked a football in my life. So, when I kicked the field goal, Coach Tanaka gave me the position. And now, I’m the kicker. And most of the team is not thrilled. Maybe they’ll be a little better about now that we won last night, but that remains to be seen. It could go either way. They might be happy we won and ignore the fact that I’m gay. Or if they get teased about dancing with the fairy, they can decide to make me miserable enough that I’ll quit. I’ve found that there’s a lot of macho ‘pride’ in making sure a ‘fag’ never shows up a straight boy at something manly. I mostly joined to save face. I’m not interested in being put in my place. If the team is unhappy with a gay kicker who can actually make field goals, then I’ll quit the team Monday.”
“I think I really need to talk to Z.”
“You mentioned him earlier.”
“Yeah. He and I go way back. We’ve been friends for like ten years. Seeing how he takes this will give me an indication of how the whole school will react because he’s at the top of the food chain. I know Hudson thinks he’s top dog, and he is in a way, but he’s a pansy according to most of the jocks because he doesn’t really join in on the bullying.”
“Do you want to invite him to your house this evening? If you told him with your dad there, maybe that would diffuse his potential anger.”
“It might, at least initially. I just don’t have a good feel for how he’s going to react. We’ve never been the type of friends that ran around naked or showered together or anything. I mean, I’ve seen him in the locker room. And I’ve seen him in his underwear, but he’s really not my type and he’s like my brother, so it’s just—no way. But I don’t think he’ll think I’ve been perving on him and threaten to beat me up for that. If anything, he’ll just walk away and say he’s not willing to deal with it.”
“I’d be glad to offer whatever support I can, if you want me to be there.”
“I’ll text him and see if he can come.” Dave pulled his phone out.
Kurt sat watching him. He was doing his best to hide the grin that kept trying to show itself. Dave looked up and looked at Kurt quizzically and raised an eyebrow.
“What?” Kurt asked.
“That’s what I was going to ask you. You’re the one staring at me and trying not to smile.”
“I’m just struggling to believe that you like me. It’s probably the mixture of the remnants of the killer hangover, the shock that there’s another gay guy my age, and on top of that, he likes me.”
“Come closer.”
Kurt turned so his back was up against the back of the couch again and he scooted closer to Dave.
“Hmm. Not very convenient. Sit on my lap.”
“What?”
“Too hard?”
“No. I can do it. I’m very flexible.”
“Good to know.” Dave laughed.
Kurt turned red. “Shush.” He stood up and straddled Dave’s lap and sat down.
Dave wrapped his arms around Kurt’s back. “Put your hands on my shoulders.” He waited until Kurt did, and then he pulled Kurt toward him a little and kissed him. “Much better.” He deepened the kiss.
Kurt moved his hands from Dave’s shoulders to his neck and ran his fingers through the hair at the base of Dave’s neck. Eventually, they broke apart a bit for air. Kurt wiggled a little and laid his head on Dave’s shoulder and placed little kisses on his neck.
“Wow,” David said. He gently ran his hands slowly up and down Kurt’s back.
Kurt sat back up a bit and kissed Dave on the lips again. “Want to go make cookies to take to your house for tonight?”
“You bake?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Okay.” He kissed Kurt gently. “Let’s go make cookies, then.”
When they got upstairs, they washed their hands, and Kurt put Burt’s apron on Dave, and then put his own apron on. He preheated the oven and got the recipe card out. He pulled out the ingredients they needed and started to put things in the mixing bowl.
“Stir this.” He pushed the bowl of ingredients toward Dave. Kurt measured the chocolate chips and nuts out and had them waiting. “Now, we stir these in.” He poured them in slowly while Dave continued to stir.
Once the dough was ready, Kurt showed Dave how big to make the balls and they started filling up the cookie tray. Kurt put the first one in and they started prepping the second one. They pulled the first one out, put the second one in, and prepped the third tray while the first tray cooled enough to get the cookies off.
Kurt took the first one off and offered it to Dave, who opened his mouth, and Kurt held the cookie for him to bite, then put the other half in his own mouth.
“Those are amazing.”
“Thanks.”
Kurt wiped down the first tray and they put the rest of the dough balls on the tray and put it in the oven when the third tray came out. Kurt put the cookies from the second tray in a separate bowl. Once the third batch had cooled, he added them to the container and pulled the fourth batch out. He took one more warm cookie off the last cookie sheet and offered it to Dave again.
He opened his mouth and took a bite. “So good. Maybe you can bribe Z to not act like an ass about all of this with cookies. He has a huge sweet tooth.”
Kurt stepped closer and rose up on his toes and kissed Dave. “I could do that.”
Dave wrapped his arms around Kurt and picked him up, then sat him on the counter and kept kissing him. When they heard the front door open, Dave stepped back and Kurt hopped down.
“I smell cookies,” Burt said as he came around the corner into the kitchen.
“Yeah, I thought it would be nice to take something with us to Dave’s house tonight. His dad is ordering pizza. I thought we’d make cookies for dessert.”
“Good idea. Do I get a sample?”
“Sure, Dad.” Kurt handed him one of the warm cookies.
He stuffed the whole thing in his mouth. “These are my favorites.”
“That’s why I made them. I’m packing most of them up to take with us, but I put one batch in a bowl to keep here for you.”
“Thanks, kiddo. I’m going to go shower and change.” Burt headed back toward the hallway and then up the stairs.
Kurt put the cookie sheets next to the sink and ran some dishwater to wash everything. “So, will most of your family disown you?”
“I don’t think so. It’s mostly my dad’s family that lives around here. None of them are overly religious. Some of them might have been more prejudiced when they were younger, but most of them are live-and-let-live types. But my mother’s family will definitely disown me, and my dad too. They mostly live in Eastern Ohio and Western Pennsylvania. My dad went to law school in Pittsburgh, which is where he met my mother. I’m imagining that she’ll move back there. She’ll probably move back in with her parents and take care of them. They were talking about my grandmother maybe needing a caregiver or needing to move her to a nursing home. My mother is the baby of the family. So, all of my cousins on her side are quite a bit older than me since she didn’t have me until she was 28. Her mother is 80.” Dave looked around for a towel and started drying the cookie sheets.
Kurt let the soapy water out, dried his hands, and started putting the ingredients back away. He looked around to make sure nothing was out still. He saw the oven was still on and turned it off.
“So, I guess there’s an upside to a messed up situation. If she goes back to Pennsylvania, your grandmother won’t have to go to a nursing home as soon.”
“Yeah. I feel bad for my dad though. I know he loves her. She wasn’t always this militant about her beliefs from what he said. It’s the pastor that came to the church about ten years ago, I guess. He’s very intolerant and bigoted. I quit going when I was 12. My dad said I could choose and I chose not to go.”
“So, the fact that I’m agnostic at best, but more likely atheist, isn’t going to bother you?” He took the apron that Dave was wearing off and hung it up with his.
“No.”
“Good. I never really talk about it because I honestly never thought I’d find anyone who wanted to date me here. And as far as casual conversation goes, I’m in the minority here, so I just keep my opinion on the topic to myself.” He put the lid on the smaller bowl of cookies and put it in the cabinet. He felt a little warmth still radiating out of the other bowl and left the lid off. “Want to play Mario Kart or Wii Bowling or something?”
“Sure.”
“I changed my mind if that’s okay. I want to talk a little more before we go to your house.” Kurt sat back down on the couch.
“Okay.” Dave sat next to him.
“When you think of the word ‘boyfriend’ or ‘dating’ what do you think of? What do you envision doing with a boyfriend?”
“Well, the kissing is nice.”
Kurt rolled his eyes.
Dave laughed. “Um, I guess just the regular stuff. Someone to talk to. Someone to do things with. I liked the snuggling earlier. That was nice. Making cookies together was fun.”
“So, you’d go places with me?”
“Sure. Like where?”
“I don’t know. There have to be some at least somewhat interesting places to see in Ohio. Parks, lakes, museums, zoos, and things like that.”
“Oh. Well, yeah. Those things sound interesting. I haven’t been to many museums or zoos. I’ve been to more lakes since my dad has the boat.”
“So, you’d enjoy going on picnics and hikes and stuff.”
“Sure.”
“And you’re being honest with me, right? Please don’t just tell me something because you think it’s the answer I want to hear. I don’t want to plan something and have it totally bomb because you weren’t truthful with me.”
“I would totally do those things with you. I don’t just want to find a fuck buddy. I could probably advertise on Craigslist or get a fake ID and go to a gay bar for that. I really like you.”
“Okay. I believe you.”
“Seriously, if that’s all I wanted, I wouldn’t have come out to my dad this morning or to you. I would just drive to Toledo or Columbus and find guys there to hook up with anonymously. I’m plenty burly enough to pass for older. I could not shave for two days and totally not be questioned going into a bar.”
“Whereas I look like an 11-year-old milkmaid.”
“Who said that?”
“Not important.”
“Well, it’s not true. I wouldn’t think you were sexy if you looked like an 11-year-old milkmaid. Yuck. Sure, you look younger than me right now because I have facial hair and you don’t, but that doesn’t make you less attractive to me. I mean some grown men can’t grow beards. Doesn’t make them less of a man. I’m assuming you’re still going to grow more at some point. Your dad is as tall as I am. But even if you don’t grow much more, it’s fine.”
“So, this is a personal question. Earlier you said that Z isn’t your type. What’s your type?”
“Umm. Snarky, sassy, bitchy diva?”
Kurt play-slapped him.
“With gorgeous blue eyes and a killer ass.”
Kurt rolled his eyes.
“I’m not sure what you want me to say. I’m not into big muscle guys who look like me. I like you. You’re funny and smart. A bit of a smartass. I like watching you dance and sing. All I can say is that it’s a good thing I was sitting in the top bleachers giving me time to wait for everyone to leave after you all did ‘Push It’.”
Kurt blushed.
“And I came to watch the Invitationals. Let’s just say I never thought I liked cowboys until I saw you strutting around the stage in that outfit. I think you should borrow those sometime and we can go line dancing.” He leaned over and kissed Kurt. “You are the sexiest cowboy I have ever seen.”
Burt called down from the top of the stairs, “You boys ready to go?”
“Yeah, Dad. We just need to put our shoes on. We’ll be right back up.” Kurt stood up, looked right at Dave, and winked. “I have those clothes in my closet.”
He stood up and followed Kurt back down the stairs to get his shoes. They grabbed their shoes and put them on and headed upstairs, but he grabbed Kurt’s hand on the landing and kissed him. “Maybe you can give me my own show next time I come over.” He leaned down and kissed Kurt once more before he let go of his hand and they went the rest of the way up the stairs.
“Let me grab the cookies.” Kurt darted into the kitchen, fastened the lid, and came right back out.
Dave had stepped into the garage waiting for him. Kurt turned the lock and pulled the door shut. He turned around to find Dave waiting right behind him. With Kurt standing on the step, they were eye to eye. Dave kissed him gently.
“Let’s go.”
They pulled up in Dave’s driveway and he saw Burt get out of his truck.
“I didn’t realize your dad had driven my truck to your house.”
“Me neither. I guess it’s fixed now.”
“Looks like.”
They got out and headed inside. Paul opened the door right as they were stepping up onto the porch.
“Come on in.”
“Thanks for bringing Dave’s truck back.”
“No problem. You can just stop by Monday and settle up the bill. I got everything running smoothly again.”
“The pizzas should be here pretty soon.”
“Hey, Dad?” Dave said.
“Yeah?”
“I invited Z over in about a half-hour. I want to tell him, but not alone. I’m not sure how he’s going to take it and I figured I needed to get it out of the way before rumors start to spread. He’s been my best friend for ten years. Even if he dumps me, I’d rather tell him face to face than have him find out from someone else.”
“No problem. I ordered plenty of pizza.”
“We made cookies at Kurt’s, so we have dessert too. They’re good. I sampled one.”
“Just one?”
“Just the one,” Dave laughed.
“Hey, I only got one,” Burt said. “We’re even.”
The pizza delivery guy pulled up before Paul even got the door shut. Dave showed everyone to the dining room and Paul wasn’t far behind him with the stack of pizzas. He put them down on the table.
“Grab some drinks, Dave.”
“Yeah, sure.” He went into the kitchen and came back out with a variety of cans of soda and put them on the table. He went back into the kitchen and brought out a stack of paper plates and napkins and put them in the middle of the table. He sat next to Kurt.
Paul had unstacked the pizzas and set them in a single layer at the other end of the table. “Help yourselves.”
Everyone got up and grabbed a few slices. The doorbell rang and Dave went to let Azimio in. He followed him into the dining room and stopped, looking really confused.
“Have some pizza, Z.”
“Yeah. I’ll do that.” He grabbed a paper plate and several slices of pizza and sat down next to Dave.
Dave gave him time to eat one of the slices before he started to talk. “I know you’re confused. I invited you here because you’re my best friend Z. We’ve been friends since forever.”
“Yeah. If this is about you bein' gay, I already knew that. I knew you had a crush on Hummel there since like we started high school, dude. The first day you saw him, you looked like … well, let’s say you didn’t hide it very well. I mean, you got it under control and all, but I was there. I wondered how long it was gonna take you to tell me—and him. Looks like you finally got around to it.”
“Yeah.”
Azimio laughed at him. “Dude, I’m happy for you.” He leaned forward and looked at Kurt. “Hey, Hummel, will you hook me up with Mercedes? She is FINE.”
Kurt snorted. “Well, Azimio, she won’t date a bully. She’s going to tell you the same thing I told David. No more slushies, no more hassling the Glee kids.”
“Hummel, if you can get her to go out with me, I will JOIN Glee my damn self.”
Kurt laughed. “Can you sing, Azimio?”
“Can I sing?” He rolled his eyes. He started to sing.
Oh, her eyes, her eyes make the stars look like they’re not shining.
Her hair, her hair falls perfectly without her trying.
She’s so beautiful and I tell her every day.
Yeah, I know, I know when I compliment her she won’t believe me.
And it’s so, it’s so sad to think that she don’t see what I see.
…
When I see your face,
There’s not a thing that I would change,
‘Cause you’re amazing,
Just the way you are.
Kurt interrupted him. “Fine, fine. You can sing. You can stop. I’ll see what I can do.”
“You do that. I’ll sing that song for her for my audition.”
Kurt laughed. “This is not how I had imagined that this would go.”
“I suppose not,” Azimio said. “But she’s damn fine.”
“Are you going to treat her right? You know she’s not some floozy.”
“Oh, I know. I’ll treat her like the queen she is. Trust me.”
“So, we’re okay?” Dave asked.
“We’re fine, dude. I don’t care who you like. Well, I mean, I care, but I don’t care that it’s Hummel.”
“No more slushies,” Kurt said resolutely.
“Yeah. It’s stupid. Last year the seniors made us do it like hazin' since we were freshmen. But they’re gone now, and there’s enough of us sophomores to take the juniors and seniors. We’re as big as they are. And a quarter of the football team is already in Glee.”
“And the dumpster tosses?”
“Yeah, I’ll put an end to that,” Azimio said. “That’s the Puckheads mostly, and Puck.”
“Yeah, well, he’s quit, thankfully,” Kurt said. “But the others haven’t.”
“Well, I’ll make sure that changes. There’s gonna be a coup and a regime change. I want a truck. And I know for damn sure if my momma finds out I’ve been slushying people, she’ll make sure I’ll be walkin' everywhere until I graduate.”
Kurt laughed.
“Yeah, you got that fine machine, sittin' in the driveway out there. You can laugh all you want. But I had to get my momma to drive me over here. I get all B’s at midterm and I’m gettin' a truck. I’ll be studyin' so hard, Hummel, I’ll be makin' you look like a slacker.”
“You didn’t even have to bribe him,” Dave said, looking at Kurt.
“Now, wait. Y’all had some kind of offer I didn’t hear?”
“You’re the one that set the terms. You said I had to try to get Mercedes to go out with you. It will have to be a double date the first time. You know that, right? She’s not going to just willingly get in a car with you and go somewhere. And you just admitted you don’t have a truck yet.”
“Yeah, yeah. We’ll take your killer ride. Double date, but I pick the place, and it ain’t gonna be Breadstix.”
“We’ll talk about arrangements later. Dave has to be willing for Mercedes to know in order for it to be a double date.”
“A’ight. We’ll work on it.” He got up and helped himself to more pizza. “What movie we watchin'?”
“Kurt’s picking.”
“Whatever, dude. I get whatever it was you were gonna bribe me with if it’s some foreign film that I gotta read the subtitles for.”
“Just eat, you Neanderthal,” Kurt said.
“You say that with such love.” Azimio blew him a kiss and cackled.
Kurt just shook his head.
A half-hour later, the leftover pizza was in the freezer, and the five of them had moved to the den. Burt and Paul took the two recliners and the three teens sat on the couch and watched the first Transformers movie. When it was over, Paul and Burt moved to the living room to talk.
“Pass those cookies back this way, you pig,” Azimio said.
Dave handed him the bowl of cookies.
“You could rule the world with these, Hummel.”
“I’d settle for a pleasant high school experience until I graduate.”
“We can work on that.”
“And how about you call me ‘Kurt’?”
“Nah. I only call Dave by his first name and that’s 'cause he’s special.” Azimio batted his eyes at Dave.
Dave punched him in the arm. “Shut up, Z.”
“Call me by my first name, and I’ll make you brownies and bring them Monday morning.”
“Homemade brownies, like not from the store or a box?”
“Homemade. No store, no box.”
“Deal. You bring them, and I’ll call you Kurt, but only to your face. I’m still callin' you Hummel like the rest of the team when you’re not around.”
“Fine.”
“I haven’t decided when I’m telling anyone else, Z.”
“I got it, man. You told your dad. You told Hummel. You told Hummel’s dad, and that took balls. Hummel’s dad is scary.”
Kurt laughed. “My dad’s a teddy bear.”
“To you. To the rest of us, he’s a grizzly bear that would rather tear us limb from limb than to see a scratch on you. I can’t believe you never ratted any of us out.”
“I don’t want my dad fighting my battles. It’s not his fault I’m gay.”
“I respect that, dude. But your dad is still scary as hell. I was NOT part of nailin' your furniture on your roof. I told them if they got caught, we wouldn’t see them until they'd be too old to recognize.”
“Didn’t keep them from doing it. Cost my dad a small fortune, which we could not afford. Nearly a year’s worth of college tuition to replace our roof.”
“It was about half the team that did it. Mostly juniors and seniors. I could tell your dad.”
“Maybe you should just send the list anonymously to the house. Type it up on a typewriter somewhere and mail it.”
“Good idea.”
“So, what about your mother?” Azimio asked.
“She’s more than likely going to move out. I’m not sure if we’ll end up moving. Dad might look for a smaller house since it will just be the two of us. I don’t know, though.”
“That sucks.”
“Yeah, well you know how things have gone.”
“Yeah, after that new pastor came, all the black folks left the church.”
“Did no one ever bother to explain to him that Jesus was more than likely dark-skinned? Has he ever looked on a map to see where Israel even is? The Middle East? They aren’t exactly white like me.”
“Yeah, I never really heard nothin' he had to say. I just know that the church is all white when it used to be mixed.”
Dave suggested, “Stick around long enough for Mercedes to see you at church tomorrow morning. You’ll make your momma happy, and you can get a head start on your reformed bad-boy persona with Mercedes.”
“Nah, that’ll make me look all desperate and shit.”
“Your choice, dude.” Dave elbowed him in the ribs.
“Hey, just ‘cause you got up the nerve to tell Hummel first don’t mean you get to beat on me.”
“You’re already there every Sunday morning. Just stick around five extra minutes or show up on time, and she’ll see you sitting with your momma instead sneaking out of the back pew during the final prayer.”
“I’ll think about it. I gotta go. My phone just buzzed. That means my momma’s out front.”
“Don’t say anything to anyone.”
“I’m not sayin' nothin' to nobody. It ain’t none of my business. You just tell me when you decide to let other people know, and I’ll have your back. You too, Hummel. And I’ll get those losers to stop slushyin' the Glee Club. And no more dumpster dives.”
“Thanks, Azimio.”
He just nodded and left.
“So, that went better than I had expected it to. I see why you like him. He’s funny.” Kurt scooted closer to Dave and offered his hand.
Dave took it and interlaced their fingers. “He is funny. I’m hoping the two of you can get along. Maybe Mercedes will like him.”
“Maybe. He’s going to have to prove himself, though.”
“Like me.”
“You apologized and meant it. I know that all of this is hard on you. I’m going to give you a chance. Today has been a lot of fun.”
“I think so too.” He reached up and ran his finger along Kurt’s jaw and turned his face and leaned over and kissed him.
“I wonder what our dads are talking about.”
“I don’t know. I figure my dad’s pretty upset about my mother’s imminent departure. They’ve been married for a long time. He’s going to miss her. And he’s going to be a single dad all of a sudden. I’m not trying to be melodramatic, but for us, it will be like her dying. She seriously will not have anything to do with me unless I repent and go through the counseling.”
“It’s terrible. It’s got to be hard for both of you tonight knowing that the instant she finds out that it’s over.”
“I can’t live a lie anymore. It’s just gotten too hard. I can’t keep listening to her say things about me without realizing that they’re about me. It makes me hate myself for not being able to change and hate myself for hiding who I am. ”
“I wish I could say something that would make this better. All I can do is be here for you.”
“That’s more than I had thought would be possible.”
Kurt squeezed his hand. |
Harley shakes a bottle of champagne, grinning as she opens it with a loud pop and the champagne spills all over her hands and on the floor. “Countdown!!” she shouts for everyone to get ready. “Grab someone to kiss!”
“Got you,” Ivy says when she grabs a hold of Harley.
People from the party begin to yell for the countdown while couples are pairing up to kiss.
“10!!”
Winn gasps when Mike kisses him already, but he quickly melts into it and holds on to his hips. His tongue strokes his boyfriend’s bottom lip, waiting to deepen their kiss. He’s so happy that he has his soulmate, the one guy he used to think he’d never have a chance with because he used to think Mike would be straight and hate him.
“9!!”
Alex weaves her hands through Maggie’s hair and kisses her with all she has, wanting to leave her wife breathless. She’s so happy that they have a life together, which is incredible because once upon a time, Maggie didn’t even believe in soulmates. The sexual tension between them had gotten close to unbearable by the time she finally kissed her soulmate for the first time on that soccer field.
“8!!”
Lena cups Kara’s cheeks and smiles at her. “Beautiful,” she whispers before closing the gap between them. She presses their lips together softly at first, but then harder as she aims to deepen their kiss. She’s so very lucky to have someone as special as Kara as her wife and soulmate.
“7!!”
Lucy places one hand at the small of Astra’s back and cups the nape of Astra’s neck with her other hand. She smiles when she captures Astra’s lips with her own, kissing her tenderly as if she’s about to break. Being with Astra makes her feel complete, like everything suddenly makes sense. Not only did she get a girlfriend, she also got a daughter in the process.
“6!!”
Ivy’s tongue laps over Harley’s lips before slipping inside her mouth while she lets her plants wrap around their bodies to hold them close together. She smirks mid-kiss when her girlfriend naughtily bites her tongue. Of course she has to retaliate and bite her bottom lip.
“5!!”
“You’re pretty damn perfect to me, Alex,” Maggie says with the utmost affection seeping into her voice. She laces their fingers together, smiling at the foresight of being close to entering a new year with her wife.
“4!!”
Alex smiles and rests her forehead against Maggie’s. “I’m lucky to have you. I was already lucky to have you in my life, but I’m even luckier now,” she says, loving the fact that they’re married.
“3!!”
“You look exquisite tonight,” Kara says in Lena’s ear so she can hear her well. She kisses her wife’s jaw and works up to kiss her lips.
“2!!”
Winn slips his hands under Mike’s shirt, lightly digging his nails into his back while he pulls his boyfriend into a bruising kiss.
“1!!”
Astra rests her hands on Lucy’s waist and lets her tongue explore every crevice of her mouth. Kissing Lucy is intoxicating and they could have gotten together sooner, though she doesn’t regret the pace they went with.
“Happy New Year!!”
Harley is about to open a new bottle of champagne when one of the windows breaks, immediately followed by a second window breaking.
“What the hell?” Ivy hisses when one after one, all her windows break.
“Street fight!!” someone shouts when a brick is being thrown through an open window.
“Let’s kick some ass!” Harley shouts when she grabs her baseball bat.
Winn’s eyes widen and he looks like he’s about to faint. “A f-fight?” he asks nervously.
“Welcome to Arkham, Winnepooh,” Harley says wickedly. “There are some tools in the corner of the room,” she says, pointing at it. “You can grab a hammer or something.”
“I feel the urge to go home,” Lena says to Kara, not interested in the violence.
“I’ll take you home,” Kara replies, nodding.
“We’re out of here too,” Alex says, grasping Maggie’s hand.
Lucy takes Astra’s hand to go outside as well, not really worried about the street fight. If someone would attack her she can defend herself.
Kara hardly took a few steps outside when she spots that woman who once introduced herself as Veronica Sinclair for a few seconds in that lingerie store, who is Lena’s ex. “What is she doing here?” she asks, confused. It’s strange to suddenly see that woman after again when in the past she seemed to have disappeared out of the blue.
“Who?” Harley asks in turn, looking around at the crowd that has gathered outside.
“That woman with the red dress and the snake tattoos,” Kara answers.
“Oh her,” Harley replies while grinning. “Roulette is one of Ivy’s friends.”
“It’s been so long since I’ve seen Veronica,” Lena says, catching where Kara’s gaze landed. She hasn’t seen that ex of hers in years and though Veronica didn’t change much, she did change a bit.
“Who is Veronica?” Harley asks, confused.
“The woman you call Roulette,” Lena answers.
“Weird,” Ivy says, showing up next to them. “I only know her as Roulette and we’ve been pals for years.”
Kara watches Ivy running off and hug Veronica, or Roulette, whatever her name is. “They seem close,” she says, since she hardly ever saw Ivy hugging someone who isn’t Harley.
“I’ll say,” Harley comments. “They’re besties, pretty much attached to the hip,” she explains.
“Star and I are going to leave now,” Lucy announces when Astra returns to her side as Nightshade.
“We’ll see you later, Luce,” Alex says right before mounting Maggie’s motorcycle to leave as well. “Kara?” she asks, uncomfortable with her sister still being here.
Kara makes a beeline to go behind the corner, changing into her super suit and then she shows up next to Lena again. “Your ride is here,” she says, holding her arms out to her wife.
“Dork,” Lena whispers, holding on to Kara.
“Bye, dolls,” Harley says, waving at her friends when they take off.
Kara notices Roulette looking at her and at her aunt, probably because it must be an odd sight for her to see Supergirl and Nightshade in Arkham. Sometimes this world is smaller than it looks with Lena’s ex being Ivy’s best friend. The last thing she sees before she’s out of sight is Ivy whispering something in Roulette’s ear and the both of them smirking.
“Thanks for letting us stay here,” Kara says to her aunt. She’d have gone home with Lena, but the children are sleeping and Eliza and Jeremiah are sleeping in their bed.
“You two seriously need a guestroom,” Lucy says, because that would come in handy. Here at Astra’s place there is one, so Kara and Lena are lucky.
“Considering Sirius and Lyra are sleeping at our place I’d say we’re even,” Lena points out.
“You are always welcome,” Astra says to her niece and to Lena.
“I won’t use my super hearing,” Kara says, not wanting to hear what her aunt and Lucy might get up to tonight.
“Neither shall I,” Astra replies, seeing no need to do so.
“In the morning we’ll go pick the kids up,” Lucy says, missing them already. “Goodnight and sleep tight.”
“Goodnight, Luce,” Kara replies, taking Lena’s hand to go upstairs.
“Sleep well,” Astra says, going upstairs too.
“Sweet dreams,” Lena says, trying to contain a yawn as she follows Kara. She hopes that the children behaved well in their absence, which she’ll hear about tomorrow.
Lucy enters the bedroom she shares with Astra, quickly shutting the door behind them so she can kiss her. “Star,” she whispers while she walks towards their bed. “Do you ever think about having more children?” she asks curiously.
“No,” Astra answers, because she hasn’t. “When I had Lyra I did not dare dream of more children. One was already a gift,” she explains. “I am happy to have two children now.”
“I should have phrased my question differently,” Lucy replies, since that’s not exactly what she meant. “Would you consider having a third child?”
Astra isn’t sure what to say because she has been happy with the way their family is. “Do you desire a third child?” she asks, rather than answering Lucy’s question. “If you do, I shall not deny your wish,” she says, wanting to ensure Lucy receives what she wants.
“I’m not sure yet, I’m just thinking,” Lucy answers. “I love Sirius and Lyra, but I guess I’d be open to the idea of a third child, someday. Maybe they will like to have a little brother or sister.”
“How do humans say this…,” Astra says, gathering her thoughts while she chuckles. “It is funny you say that, yes?”
“Um, yeah, I guess?” Lucy answers, unsure. “I don’t know why though.”
“Lyra’s list for Santa Claus,” Astra explains. She hurries towards their closet and returns with the list, handing it over to Lucy so she can look at it.
“Oh wow,” Lucy whispers, surprised. “Wait, did you propose to me because it’s on our daughter’s list?”
“I proposed to you because I wanted to do so,” Astra answers, already having planned to do so before she had seen Lyra’s list.
“Ah I see Lyra wants Santa to bring us another child,” Lucy says, seeing it on the list. “It sure would be a lot easier if J’onn would hand us a child rather than having to go through pregnancy,” she muses. “If hypothetically speaking we would opt for a third child, I’d say it’s better to do that soon rather than later. I graduate in six months and then I’ll work for the DEO, so I’d rather go through a part of pregnancy while I’m still in college.”
“Hypothetically,” Astra repeats, smiling.
“Maybe a bit more than just hypothetical,” Lucy admits, genuinely considering it. “When we get married, do I get your last name?” she asks, wondering if she’ll become Lucy In-Ze.
“On paper unfortunately not,” Astra answers, considering her real last name can’t be publicly known. “In private, yes.”
“Okay, that’s understandable,” Lucy replies. She knows it’s similar for Lena, who is not Zor-El on paper, but to the family she is. “So you’ll be Astra Lane then…?” she asks hesitantly. “Or should I be Lucy Kryptee?” she asks, smirking at the surname Astra is going by.
“I will leave that choice to you,” Astra decides, because in the end she is Astra In-Ze and Lucy will be Lucy In-Ze.
“Kryptee it is,” Lucy says, nodding. “I know better now,” she sighs softly as she curls into Astra. “I didn’t dishonor or disgrace my father’s name. He’s the one who did that. He dishonored me.”
“You are correct,” Astra agrees, relieved that Lucy realizes that she wasn’t the one at fault. “Sleep well, my darling,” she whispers, kissing Lucy’s forehead.
“Goodnight, Star,” Lucy mumbles sleepily. She basks in the warmth she feels as Astra holds her.
“You’re supposed to share the blanket with me, Sawyer,” Alex mutters, trying to grab a piece of it.
“Mhmm, maybe,” Maggie replies quietly. “You can try to convince me,” she suggests.
“I can do that,” Alex smiles, resting one hand on Maggie’s stomach. She catches her wife’s bottom lip with her lips, nibbling lightly at it. “Convincing you happens to be one of my specialties,” she whispers.
“Is that so?” Maggie asks, smiling when Alex kisses her again.
“I got the skeptic to believe, didn’t I?” Alex answers, sticking her tongue out.
“That’s true,” Maggie admits. “And I got you to marry me, so I’d say I’m pretty convincing myself.”
“Pretty? Yes,” Alex replies. “Convincing? Not so much,” she comments, even though Maggie can definitely convince her.
“As if you’d say no if I’d ask you to kiss me,” Maggie points out. “You’re whipped and you know it.”
“I’m whipped,” Alex confirms. “And I know it,” she says proudly.
“You’re smart and beautiful,” Maggie whispers, caressing Alex’s cheek. “I hope you know that as well.”
“Since you keep reminding me I’ll have to believe it,” Alex whispers, blushing a bit.
“You better,” Maggie husks while she rolls on top of Alex. “We don’t have to go to sleep yet,” she suggests, since they have nowhere to be tomorrow anyway. They can stay in their bed for as long as they’d like.
“I think you’ve read my mind,” Alex replies, tugging gently at Maggie’s hair. She surges up to kiss her wife’s neck, sucking at her pulse point.
“Don’t leave a mark,” Maggie warns. “Not on my neck at least,” she adds, since she wouldn’t mind marks as long as it’s not there. “Those turtlenecks aren’t my thing.”
Alex grazes her teeth across Maggie’s skin and moves to kiss her collarbones. She pins her wife down so she can kiss her even lower.
“You always try to top me,” Maggie whispers, amused.
Alex kisses and nips at Maggie’s shoulder, slowly working her mouth towards her wife’s breasts. She cups one of them with her hand, rubbing her thumb in circles around Maggie’s nipple and closes her mouth around the other, sucking lightly.
Maggie indulges herself into the feeling of Alex touching her delicately. “Alex,” she moans lustfully. She hums when her wife shifts a thigh between her legs to give her the littlest bit of friction.
Alex sucks harder on Maggie’s nipple and brings her mouth up about an inch or two, intending to leave her mark. Her hand gently kneads her wife’s breast, listening to the moans and the panting, those delicious sounds which fuel her desire.
“Fuck,” Maggie whimpers when Alex releases her thigh from between her legs. “Alex, please,” she pleads, needing friction.
Alex lowers herself between Maggie’s legs, sliding her arms underneath her knees. She swipes her tongue over her wife’s sex, having a first taste. With a cocky smirk she looks at Maggie who is gorgeous. She flicks the tip of her tongue against her wife’s clit, hearing her moan louder.
“Argh, Alex,” Maggie groans, arching into her wife’s touch. “Stop being such a tease,” she whimpers.
Alex flattens her tongue against Maggie’s center with more urgency, licking long strips while she thrusts two digits inside of her wife. She holds her fingers still at first to tease Maggie again, but when her wife begins to moan obscenely her fingers move on their own accord, curling deep inside Maggie.
“Alex,” Maggie cries out, falling into her orgasm. She shivers when her wife doesn’t stop and soon she feels a second orgasm build, coming again.
Alex’s fingers are glistening when she pulls them out of Maggie. She hums when she licks her fingers clean, musky, salty and sweet.
Maggie yanks Alex down and grabs her wrists, holding them next to her body. “I’m suddenly very hungry for an early breakfast,” she whispers, licking her lips while she devours her wife with her eyes.
Alex bites back a moan when Maggie touches her. “We have all night,” she says suggestively.
“I love the way you think,” Maggie whispers in approval.
Lena sighs softly while Kara holds her as the little spoon and she has to admit that it’s a pleasant feeling. It makes her feel loved and safe, like her wife is the cocoon which protects her from everything, even bad dreams. Not that she often has bad dreams to begin with, especially not since she’s had Kara in her life. In the past she sometimes had nightmares about the things Lex did, which was horrible.
Kara can’t contain her curiosity about Veronica, knowing that she is Lena’s ex. “What was Veronica like?” she asks curiously. Ivy would never have a random person as her best friend, so there must be a reason why Ivy is so close with Veronica who calls herself Roulette.
“She was mostly cold and distant,” Lena answers from what she remembers. “We both had a certain desire and we were both lone wolves with a wealthy background, so in a way we matched. It was never love and feelings were always shallow and few.”
“I worry about Sara’s prophecy,” Kara confesses. She’s taken Lucy’s word for it that what Sara said is true and that there is going to be a traitor, which makes her curious who that traitor will be. “Maybe it’s not really a prophecy, but it definitely was a warning and I don’t want to believe that someone we know would betray our family, though Sara’s words claim otherwise.”
“Veronica doesn’t know the secrets this family has,” Lena whispers, which is true because they’re not even friends with her.
“Perhaps not,” Kara says hesitantly. “But Ivy knows.”
“We’ll have to wait and see,” Lena replies, since the first part about National City shaking is yet to come true. “Will you try to get some sleep?” she asks, concerned because she doesn’t want her wife to be up all night to worry.
“Okay,” Kara sighs. “I love you, Lena,” she whispers softly.
“And I love you, Kara,” Lena whispers, closing her eyes to sleep.
|
02: to paint pictures of devils
Subject AG071
Ability Name: No Longer Human
Gender: M
Blood type: AB
(DECEMBER 21. XXXX)
On the topic of Subject 71, it should be noted that he exhibits more of an anomaly than the other subjects when faced in extreme duress.
This should be further evidenced in the Awakening of his Ability. Fifteen of the subjects remaining alive were brought forth for what was called as “training”. In the basement tied up in chains was the anomaly Subject 71 and he showed no signs of distress for his current state at the time – in fact, what could be accurately described of him at the time was boredom of the highest caliber.
Of course, the real purpose of the exercise was to see if the anomaly known as Subject 71 would Awaken to the use of his Ability. Said Ability has not shown itself fully in the tests for the past three years yet its Laplace Count* is extraordinarily high for its dormant state. This time, the experiment was to see if the count would be affected if it were to act up.
The effects were astounding. All fifteen subjects released their Abilities to attack at the same time according to the counter displayed behind Subject 71. As per the usual routine, the nanomachines injected in their body will activate and kill them if the timer reaches zero.
But I digress. The attacks reached Subject 71 but they did not harm him for as soon as one of the Ability touched his skin, a bright light and strings of blue ribbons flew about and negated them all in an instant.
Subject 71 was treated afterwards but check-ups reveal that he was unharmed from the experiment with only mild burns from the chains chaffing him and the branding having burned him again. Treatment has been implemented in order to prevent loss of such valuable resource.
His Laplace Count went from 120 to a startling 666.
Negation, or rather nullification. Such Ability has not been seen nor recorded since the dawn of the Gifted and we are quite anxious as to what else this particular Subject has in store for us.
Further testing is recommended for new data. Perhaps in a few months’ time, Subject 71 might hold the key to unlocking our Anomaly.
Regarding the name of Subject 71’s Ability, we have deemed it prudent to give it a name as it is the only one with Nullification. Talks of adding the Ability to the academe have been put in place and we are quite eager to show off our fruits of labor.
.
.
.
No Longer Human.
The name of his Ability has AG071 reeling.
Power thrums beneath his fingertips, his blood singing and humming with something he cannot name. It’s a rather scary feeling but he finds that it’s not what he feels to be hideous at all.
He has an Ability – one that can nullify whatever he touches.
The doctors are treating him well, saying that they cannot afford to lose him now. Jealousy and relief waft off the other children in waves now that the experiments have been put off for the time being in favor of giving attention to the formerly insufficient 00071.
There are talks of going to forums, of showing off to the higher ups. Excitement rolls off the other scientists like eager children going to their favorite candy store and it’s almost contagious if not for the fact that they are in a facility of all places.
71 wishes to ask if the government will really allow them to walk away scot-free for having experimented on children.
(The answer, he thinks to himself years later, is yes.)
Come January, because he is as bored as they come and observation can only do so much when things move like clockwork, and things are back to their usual pace if only because now, the experiments are based on the capabilities of Subject 71 and his odd Ability.
They test the boundaries of No Longer Human to frightening degrees.
“Nothing on the physical test.” Come the drawl from the side and over the whirring of machines as they paint his body red with cuts and bruises. “We’ll check more tomorrow.”
They haul him over to an open clinic, bathe him in medicine and antiseptic and cover him in bandages.
The bandages, AG071 thinks, are more comfortable than anything he has ever felt.
In the week after that, they test his Ability against the elements by throwing flamethrowers at him, leaving him to fend against the harsh cold coming, quite possibly, from the outside.
No Longer Human remains silent in his veins.
They test it out again using Gifted children and there, the results show.
“So it only works on Gifted and their Abilities. What an oddly specific restriction.”
“His count has remained the same since the December Experiment. It really only skyrockets when used against Abilities.”
“A complete difference from others then. Usually, their counts would remain the same if used unless their Meltdown occurs.”
“Completely unprecedented.”
Amidst the mutters, they herd him off to the usual doctor to be given a check-up, bathing him in new medicine this time for the burns and the odd patches the cold has left him.
It stings but he doesn’t scream.
They dress him in bandages after that. It’s becoming a quick staple since the beginning of the New Year thanks to the intensity of the experiments and the injuries that follow but the cloth winding around his skin leaves him feeling the comfort of being covered in a stringy but comfy blanket and his cuts and burns don’t ache as much covered by it.
He thinks it’s the best thing ever made by humanity.
(His dislike for pain cements into hatred after that.)
.
.
.
Subject ANOMALY
Classification: Unknown
Laplace Count: —
(NOVEMBER 13. XXXX)
Sixteen Subjects remain alive after intensive exposure to the ANOMALY though Subject 00071 remains unaffected for some reason. Further testing shall be done on a later date.
Thus far, the capabilities of the ANOMALY remain deep in mystery. It is known that this is a fragment of an Ability known as the Book which is supposedly capable of altering reality while abiding to its restrictions as is standard for Abilities. It is also theorized to be the birthplace of all Abilities, thus the source of the Gifted’s power.
Physical form thus far has reduced previous subjects into varying stages of onset rejection and collapse. The Board has decided to allow transfer of material from a solid to liquid state. New theory from _____ suggests that with the insertion of the liquidized Book into the bloodstream, Abilities can be augmented in varying measures.
Project shall commence in January after the New Year. If successful, the new drug will be administered during the Great War to a selected group of individuals for field testing.
(FEBRUARY 7. XXXX)
The Great War has ended.
Board has given permission for the experiment to continue for six months. If no results are to be found within the timeline, the project will be shut down and all related parties will be ordered to cease their operations immediately.
(MAY 28. XXXX)
Testing done on Subject AG069 is a failure.
Subject showed signs of onset rejection as early as three minutes under procedure yet still no signs of stage one collapse. Anomaly’s Laplace Count shows no change after the two minutes and so experiment was carried on.
(…)
Twenty minute mark. Subject AG069 was under stage three collapse. This is the slowest reaction rate we have had since the beginning of the new project. Vitals were beginning to lower although not yet risking the critical stages. Experimentation commenced per usual.
(…)
Twenty-eight minutes. Subject AG069 suffered severe Meltdown after being under the influence of Liquid Anomaly for exactly 28 minutes and 03 seconds. Subject’s Ability destroyed floors 6 and 7 though Subject AG071 suffered severe head and eye injury to the left side of the face. Treatment has already been implemented and doctors say that no negative results will be brought about by the damage.
(MAY 30. XXXX)
After Subject AG069’s termination, it has been confirmed that out of the initial seventy-two test subjects chosen for the project, only thirteen remain. As such, the higher-ups have voted on a final experiment to decide the facility’s functionality and future research budgeting.
Optimal testing requires subject with high vitality rate and unique Ability synchronization for the Liquid Anomaly to take effect in tandem with the number of Laplace Counts.
Subject AG071 has been chosen as suitable experiment.
Preparations will begin in the second week of June for optimal results.
.
.
.
The cage opens just like any other day.
And yet it’s not, he thinks to himself. It’s not any other day, hasn’t been since the day AG069 suffered a Meltdown and brought over a third of the facility with her.
The facility is under strict renovations, the holding cells have become colder rather than warmer in preparation for summer and guard shifts are more unpredictable lately. Even the scientists have been moving around like headless chickens after that incident.
In under nearly four years, out of the seventy-two chosen from the hundreds killed, only thirteen remain – including himself.
The numbers keep dwindling and the facility changes in accordance to the number of subjects remaining.
The remaining children have banded together. They think he hasn’t noticed due to the number of experiments he’s been in as of late, but he knows. AG072 is their leader and it shows in the way he raises his head and his eyes gleam with the personal arrogance he could have sworn he’s seen somewhere but cannot remember. He thinks it’s from the times as a child wherein a schoolyard bully has a gang of his own but then that would be odd because he’s never been to school before, let alone encountered bullies of the sort.
He is not included in the group. He doesn’t bother to ask himself why.
AG071 sees it every time he looks at the mirror and sees nothing but bandages and blank brown eyes.
Either ways, the remaining twelve have banded together and are now acting as a group. He’s not stupid and neither are they; the dwindling numbers and the rather desperate faces of their captors are telling them that they are all running in borrowed time here. If they’re not careful then they could very well be shot and tossed to the furnace to be burned.
He just wishes that they all know the meaning of being sneaky because they sure aren’t right now, all huddled up and determined as though they are marching into battle with their skinny and damaged bodies and Abilities too dangerous for use.
(And maybe they are but that doesn’t concern him right?
Whatever they plan on doing today has nothing to do with him.
He’s had enough of living anyway.)
.
.
.
Days and years blur together.
Sometimes, he has dreams of being at the edge of a building, wearing black and a red scarf and he’s looking behind to where a dog, a tiger and a demon child struggle to watch – oh would you look at that?
Odasaku, it looks like I’ll have to break my promise.
.
.
.
They call it Liquid Anomaly – a liquid stuffed inside transparent containers that sparkles like the stars he can only remember from muddled memories from years prior.
AG071 remembers the experiment that took AG069 and thinks this is that experiment. Which means that for better or worse, the effects of the drug will either kill him immediately or force him into undergoing a Meltdown.
No pressure.
They have him lie down on the cold table with his shirt removed. His shirt is deposited to the side and he sees bandages around his torso enough to act as a shirt in itself. The thought almost makes him smile.
His left eye itches under the bandages but he simply brushes his hand against it. The doctors have yet to remove it but it doesn’t hurt as much as much anymore. Perhaps it’s because he’s used to pain? That’s a scary thought; he hates pain but he also doesn’t want to be riddled with injuries.
They start injecting needles into him. It doesn’t sting but his instincts keep telling him to move away from those things and they’re quite loud so he ignores them in favor of staring to where each needle is connected.
Oh. It’s to the tanks.
…well.
There is a clap of attention, feet rushing to go outside and suddenly, he is alone.
“Commencing experiment. On my mark. 3…2…”
The count doesn’t exactly reach to one as the tanks start their transfer.
Pain. Hot, burning pain. Liquid Anomaly is mercury to his veins, No Longer Human struggling to counteract with the intruder and why is that? No Longer Human acts only when it comes into an Ability so why—
Because Liquid Anomaly is an Ability and it’s not just any old Ability either.
Whispers start encroaching his brain. Reality and illusion begin to lose their meaning as everything spirals into a kaleidoscope of never-ending scenery.
.
.
.
“—situation stable—“
“—apple suicide? Ah. You mean Cinderella.“
“—appears to have a resonance with his Ability.”
“I killed him!!“
“Why use half of a dosage—“
“—can still fight—!”
“—when we can use all?”
“—you remind me of someone.”
“—special. He can survive this—“
“—only fifteen; I’m still growing!”
“It’s the only way.”
“Could you not shoot me in this bar? Anywhere else is fine.”
“Do it.”
.
.
.
Everything turns to white, the ground rattles, his ears ring and someone is screaming in the distance.
It is only when he feels his throat ache does he realize that the one screaming was him.
.
.
.
(Flames run their destruction across everything it touches.
A single boy lies on a metal table, cold and half-dead.)
.
.
.
He talks of a Book.
It is not a book, one that you would read and write on and borrow from a library. No. This particular Book is special. Special in a way that organizations will move and stop at nothing to get it, nations will resort to the devil’s work if only to use it.
It is special because it has the power to alter reality itself.
Altering reality. Strictly speaking, that is not what it can really do. There are countless worlds out there, contained at the core of the Book, enfolded into the form of pages and trapped in the form it takes now – a Book. And like any page, once written, it will overwrite the reality present and call forth the one written on its pages.
If anything is written on it, this world will cease to exist.
.
.
.
If three or more people know of its mechanics, the Book might cause the world to collapse in on itself.
He’s known of it this whole time.
The Book follows the rules of Karma – for something to happen, a sacrifice must be made.
A life for a life.
.
.
.
More than anything, I want you to live your life and do what you wish.
If it means never meeting me, never having saved this wretched soul and given it a chance—
I will…
.
.
.
(JULY 4. XXXX)
Report on the destruction of Facility B; last June 19. XXXX
The cause of Facility B’s destruction is a feeling of dissidence among the surviving test subjects within the facility.
From what we have gathered, it appears as though the test subjects banded together and concocted a plan of escape while the experiment on AG071 was underway, lowering chances of there being guards in the area. The test subjects used their Abilities to get past as far as the third floor until AG072 suffered Meltdown and used her Ability to bomb the facility.
As of today, the number of dead seen are twelve test subjects, twenty-seven scientists and sixty-four of our guards. The damage seen has been contained within three kilometers of the surrounding area.
According to the autopsy reports, most of the Subjects were killed by gunfire on the guards’ behalf of subjugation whilst the scientists employed were disposed of via a Subject’s Ability which is capable of making explosions on contact. Said Gifted died with a gunshot to the head.
No witnesses nor civilian casualties reported in comparison to the Arahabaki experiment few years prior.
All records in regards to this incident have been filed as confidential and sealed under the permission of Minister Taneda.
About the matter of the Anomaly known as the Book, it has been transferred to a different owner and will henceforth be contained to another facility.
Further experimentation in regards to the Book and Gifted have been prohibited under strict observation by the government after several reports of unnecessary wasting of resources as well as mismanagement of funds.
With regards to the Subject classified as AG071, seeing as no body was discovered, it has been presumed that it was burned away by the full dosage of the drug Liquid Anomaly.
Signed by Sakaguchi Ango of the Gifted Special Divisions Department
|
I. Fictional World:
In the world of this fiction, humans (70%) and wolves (30%) have been living in harmony since the beginning of existence. These wolves aren't animals, they are shapeshifters who can take both appearances. Some chose to remain in their 'wolf' form but most shapeshifters decided to mix in with civilization and become active contributors in society, remaining therefore in the shape of humans.
There are four secondary genders; alphas (25%), omegas (30%), betas (40%), and trans-betas (5%). At birth, wolves are born as either a male or a female but when the process of presentation begins, they develop the right organs according to their sub-genders. Alphas are known to be the strongest physically, while betas are the most sensible and omegas the most persuasive.
The next distinction, which is quite outdated and very racist, is related to blood status.
-Primarily, Beta/Beta relationships
-Omega/Omega relationships
-Beta/Omega relationships
-Primarily, Beta/Alpha relationships
-Beta/Trans-beta relationships
-Trans-beta/Trans-beta relationships
-Rarely, Alpha/Alpha relationships
-Primarily, Alpha/Omega relationships
-Trans-beta/Alpha relationships
-Trans-beta/Omega relationships
In modern society, none of these distinctions really matter but in the Crime Underworld, Pure-blood alphas are respected and omegas are a joke (except if they’re of royal descent!)
II. Bangtan Clan:
Kim Seokjin- Oyabun
[Blood]
Pure-blood Alpha, Royal Descent.
Purple Eyes.
Rosy scent with apple undertones.
Rich and Delicate smell.
Yakuza Ruler.
Kim Namjoon- Boss
[Vengeance]
Pure-blood Alpha.
White Eyes.
Woody scent with lavender undertones.
Warm and Elegant smell.
Arms Trafficking.
Min Yoongi- Godfather
[Lies]
Half-blood Omega (but made everyone believe that he is a Beta)
Golden Eyes.
Orangy scent with coconut and vanilla undertones.
Cozy and Intense smell.
Peace-maker of the Underworld.
Jung Hoseok- Lord
[Rage]
Half-blood Alpha.
Red Eyes.
Citrusy scent with pine undertones.
Fresh and Energizing smell.
Human and Drug trafficking.
Park Jimin
[Remorse]
Pure-blood Omega.
White Eyes.
Peachy scent with geranium undertones.
Soft and Addictive smell.
Kim Taehyung
[Illusion]
Pure-blood Alpha, Royal Descent
Purple Eyes.
Musky scent with raspberry undertones.
Powerful and Mysterious smell.
Jeon Jungkook
[Them]
Half-blood Alpha.
Red Eyes.
Oceany scent with lily undertones.
Breezy and Intoxicating smell.
III. Right-hand persons:
Seo In-Guk
(1987)
Known for his very calm and professional demeanor.
He has a Ph.D. in law which was actually the reason why he and Seokjin met in the first place. Jin needed to hire a personal lawyer when he became Yakuza’s leader and since Inguk and Bogum are close the latter introduced them and they have since been inseparable.
They argue a lot, however, due to how different their personalities are but their diversity is what makes them such a good duo; they help one another see things from completely different perspectives.
His duties extend as well to the Kim Family Chaebol. Seokjin is the conglomerate's chairman, therefore, Inguk has gained great renown from his position as his lawyer.
As an alpha, he has never fallen in love, he rarely goes out, and has no plans to start a family in the near future.
Park Bo-Gum
(1993)
The exact opposite of the persona people think Yoongi has.
He is very friendly and bubbly and is the maknae line’s best friend. He met Yoongi when they moved to Seoul, and since they've lived in the same neighborhood they've developed a really strong brotherhood.
He is the CEO of 'Moon Electronics', Yoongi's audio equipment company.
He is very skilled with daggers.
As an alpha, he is very territorial but has a hard time admitting his love for Hyekyo. He is Chanyeol’s half-brother so he has always been eager to get him and Yoongi back together. He ADORES Haneul.
Seo Kang-Joon
(1993)
In-Guk’s younger brother.
Once an aspiring artist, he was pulled to the crime world due to his desire to prove himself to his brother.
He has been great friends with Hoseok since their teenage years and has always provided him with great support.
He is the CEO of 'Hope World', Hoseok's high-end clothing brand.
He might not be as skilled in negotiation as his brother but he has a great strategic sense which always comes in handy.
He and Hoseok are always teasing each other and are very comfortable with one another due to the small age gap between them. However, they both respect each other immensely.
As an alpha, he has been mated to his omega, Jinah, since teenagerhood.
Song Hye-Kyo
(1981)
Her family and Namjoon's go way back.
When Namjoon's mother passed away, she became a stable figure in his life. Namjoon trusts her with the pack's life, which to him is much more important than his own.
Their friendship resembles a mother-son relationship more than anything since she is much older than him. However, she respects the fact that he is her leader after all and does her best to keep him out of as much trouble as she possibly can, mainly due to her tormented relationship.
She has been in the crime world for the longest time compared to the other right-hand men, which makes her a go-to advisor for all the guys.
She is the CEO of '금[1]' (Geum), Namjoon's auction company.
She is feared everywhere for her advanced gun skills.
As an omega, she is struggling to keep her marriage going and is trying her best to deny her feeling for Bo-gum. She has yet to get pregnant so she is very attached to Haneul who is her godson.
IV. Spokespersons:
Song Joong-Ki
(1980)
He was introduced to Namjoon way back when his relationship started with Hyekyo (Namjoon was a teenager then) which led them to develop a friendship in the earlier days.
He was unanimously chosen by everyone to be Bangtan’s main spokesperson as soon as the pack was created due to his amazing diplomatic skills.
He is really close to Namjoon but has always held grudges against him since he is far more successful than he will ever be. This has put a strain on his and Hye-Kyo’s relationship which led him to turn to his own right-hand, Chae-won, and cheat on his mate with her.
His love for his wife, however, is put in the limelight whenever Bo-gum and her interact which makes the two alphas clash most of the time.
Moon Chae-Won
(1986)
Known in the crime world for her spying skills, she was hired by Joong-Ki to be his personal right-hand person.
Although The Bangtan Clan isn't too fond of spying and like to play it clean most of the time, they sometimes use her to get vital info which would later help them out in certain exportations or to blackmail other crime world leaders.
She used to be good friends with Hye-Kyo but as soon as she started developing feelings for Joong-Ki she chose to keep her distances, not wanting to "backstab" her.
She is very flirty with other alphas and betas perhaps to try and keep her lover's attention as much as possible. She thinks that she stands a chance to become Joong-Ki's mate.
V. Father figures:
Jang Hyuk
(1976)
Bangtan's senior lawyer, he ranks as one of the best attorneys in East Asia.
He was chosen by the clan to be their lawyer and has ever since been a father figure to them.
He has a very calm but cocky demeanor which he is very famous for.
Notably, he has never lost a single case in his entire career and takes great pride in it.
Outside of work he leads a calm life with his wife of 20 years who is, of course, also his mate. They gave birth to male alpha twins who are currently studying abroad with Jimin's brother.
Kim Jae-Wook
(1979)
Jin's father's ex right-hand man, he has worked in The Yakuza since before his coming of age.
Originally an orphan he was taken care of and protected by Mr. Kim from a very young age. He has, later on, joined their mafia.
As soon as Jin became the leader of the gang he couldn't go without designating him as Bangtan's mentor and father.
He used to have no personal life outside of his work but that changed a year ago when he met his current mate who still to this day is the only person outside of Bangtan able to calm him down and bring the softer side in him.
VI. Other:
Kim Ha-Neul
(2017)
In reality, Chanyeol and Yoongi's biological pup. He was conceived around the period where Yoongi discovered that his then-husband, Chanyeol, was cheating on him. Yoongi, as a form of revenge, made it look like he miscarried the baby and disappeared from all sight, choosing to spend his pregnancy in Europe and give birth there.
When he returned back home, Yoongi made up a lie to justify his pup's existence. The pack decided to trust him, thus accepting the baby as their own. And seeing as, in their pack, the eldest, the leader, and both alphas from Royal Descent all have the last name 'Kim', he was given that name.
No one outside of The Bangtan Clan knows of his existence; Yoongi goes out of his way to ensure that Chanyeol never learns the truth.
Jungkook was the one who named him. Haneul refers to his fathers as follows:
- Seokjin: Dad
- Yoongi: Appa
- Hoseok: Pappy
- Namjoon: Daddy
- Jimin: Papa
- Taehyung: Dada
- Jungkook: 'Pa
Park Ji-Hoon
(1999)
Simply put, if Jimin is alive today's it's because of him.
After their parents passed away while he was a child, Jimin made it his responsibility to take care of him. He promised to give him the best life he could, which led the older down a very dark path.
He and Jimin have a very unique and strong bond since, in a way, his brother was the one who raised him.
He is a very sensitive beta, who felt a bit burdened by his brother's fame so Jimin sent him to Australia to finish his studies.
Despite the distance, he remains one of Jungkook and Taehyung's closest friends.
He is, as well, very close with the hyungs who treat him like their own child (which sometimes sparks Jungkook's jealousy but you didn't hear that from me)
He is very smart and hardworking; his goal is to one day pay off Jimin for all he's done for him.
Im Jin-Ah
(1995)
When she and Yoongi first met through her mate, she had still been a med student. The two soon developed a friendship and when she discovered Yoongi's secret she vowed to do her best to help him.
Yoongi, knowing how hard it would be for a fellow omega to prove herself in the competitive and sometimes sexist field, made her his personal doctor.
She was soon chosen to be the pack's family doctor, seen as all seven men felt extremely comfortable around her.
She is the only one who knows everything about Yoongi and would rather die than divulge any of his secrets.
As an omega, she and Kangjoon are literally couple goals, and they've recently been trying to have a pup.
Haneul's nanny:
Kim Ji-Won
(1992)
Originally a bartender at one of Hoseok's Tokyo nightclubs, he had once saved her from a rape attempt after her shift.
Knowing how loyal and sweet the beta was, Hoseok brought her back to Seoul. Haneul was a newborn at the time, and after seeing how much she cared for the little baby, Yoongi asked her to become his nanny. She has lived with them ever since.
Because of her trauma, she has never sought to be in a relationship ever again.
She is extremely close to the pup and cares deeply about the pack. She feels like she owes them her life, so she is ready to risk it all for them.
Chief of Guards:
Lee Sung-Hoon
(1970)
The man in charge of Bangtan's whole army (the actual one lol.)
He has been working with Seokjin's father for years and is a respected member of Yakuza.
He is very close to all the members and is respected by the hyungs even though he is technically a subordinate. The leaders value his opinion and trust his judgment.
As an alpha, he is mated to Lee Dahee and has three children with her.
Lee Da-Hee
(1985)
She is the head of all the leaders and underbosses' assistants.
Her job is to make sure that there isn't any overlapping with the hyungs' schedule in the crime world and as BTS which is why she keeps close contact with the men's managers.
She is very fierce but is soft for the maknaes whom she treats like her own children.
The trans-beta has met Sung-Hoon on her 21st birthday. They decided to mate and later on marry one another despite the somewhat large age gap between them.
Kim Jung-Won
(1962)
He is the senior worker in the Bangtan Mansion. He manages everything in the house and is the chief of all the other servants.
He used to work for Namjoon's family and when the clan moved to their first penthouse, the alpha asked him to join them.
He was trained as a soldier, so don't let his age and serene appearance fool you: he wold slice a bastard's throat in a heartbeat.
As a beta, he chose to only focus on work so he never had a mate. |
The marine slowly pulls into the base, parking her motorcycle outside the building before cutting the engine and sliding her helmet off of her head. She quickly straightens her hair, before tying it into a military standard bun before slipping the cap of her fatigues onto her head. Pocketing her keys, she approaches the building, finding a tall, African American woman, standing in a pair of fatigues looking at her with a small smile. Ava returns the smile before the woman hugs her tightly, gently tapping her back before the woman nods at her.
“Kerry, I didn’t expect you to be here,” Ava says softly.
“Oh, and you think that I’m not going to want to know what happens to my favorite surgeon? Come on, Luthor. You know me better than that,” Kerry says with a smile.
“I’m glad, you’re here,” Ava says as Kerry nods.
“I know what today is, Luthor. I figured you could use a friendly face in your corner,” Kerry says as the marine sighs.
“Well, I’m glad you at least have my back,” Ava says.
“Whatever happens in there, you should know, I’m going with you,” Kerry says as the marine’s eyes widen.
“Kerry, your wife just gave birth,” Ava counters before the woman shakes her head.
“I know, but you, have done a lot for me and for my family. Taylor, she respects that, respects you. She would probably divorce me if I didn’t go with you,” Kerry says as Ava nods.
“You’re a great friend, Kerry,” Ava says as her superior nods.
“Now, come on. I know that they don’t have a case against you, but we need to see where that bastard is going to send us,” Kerry says with a firm nod.
“Alright, let’s get this over with,” Ava says softly.
Kerry rubs Ava’s arm on last time before the marines enter the building. The marines remove their caps as they further walk into the building. Turning the hall, Ava releases a small breath as they stand in front of the disciplinary board room. Kerry offers the marine a final wink before opening the door. Ava glances down at her tattoo of her mother’s handwriting on final time before entering the room. Much to Ava’s surprise, her entire company, along with several of their superiors are seated behind Ava’s panel of lawyers. The group of marines offer her small smiles and nods, which she quickly returns before moving to sit next to her lawyers.
The lawyers nod at the marine before the general enters the room. In perfect unison, each marine stands to their feet in a perfect salute as the man dismissively salutes the large group of marines before the panel motions for everyone to take their seats. Ava sits properly in her chair, masking her terrified expression with a tight jaw and firm expression—one of which her father would be proud of. As the remaining members of the disciplinary board enter the room, the judge glances at the panel before nodding.
“Flight Surgeon Luthor, are you ready to hear the panel’s findings?” the judge asks.
“Sir, yes, Sir,” Ava says sternly.
“Well, given the lack of evidence and the accusations against you, the panel finds you in no way associated in colluding with the terrorist attack on the Pentagon. Given your upstanding reputation in the Marine Corps along with your role in the civilian world, I want to express my sincerest apologies for any damage that it may have caused to you and your family,” the judge says as happy sighs escape the marines’ lips behind her.
“Thank you, Sir,” Ava says with a nod.
“Now, with that being said, the panel took into consideration that you have a year left on your contract, is that correct?” the judge asks.
“Sir, yes, Sir,” Ava retorts.
“Your panel of lawyers have each met with us, along with your superiors, and for the damages done to your reputation, the board will minimize your contract substantially,” the judge says as Ava glances at her lawyers, all of which nod with small smiles.
“Sir, how long?” Ava asks.
“You will have four months of active duty. After serving those four months, you may then resign your contract or be honorably discharged,” the judge says. Ava lets out a thankful sigh before noticing the general’s jaw clenched with anger.
“Thank you, Sir,” Ava says with a nod.
“Now, the panel has also taken into account that you are an active member in the civilian world. We understand that you will need time to prepare for your deployment. We’ve granted you two weeks to get your personal things in order before you will return to Camp Black Horse to serve the last four months of your deployment,” the judge says as Ava’s eyes widen.
The marines behind her begin whispering harshly, causing the judge to slam his gavel several times to quiet the room. Ava notices a smug smile crossing the general’s face, knowing the marine’s history at the base. Camp Black Horse is one of the most feared marine bases for any marine. The base is located in the deadliest section of the war zone and is constantly attacked on a regular basis. For Ava, it’s where she almost lost Alex to a rogue RPG explosion, and a memory that haunts the back of her mind daily. The lawyers slowly nod toward Ava before she glances up at the panel.
“I want to say thank you to each member of the panel, for diligently working on this investigation and for allowing me the time ended to arrange my civilian affairs before returning to deployment. Again, thank you for your time and your generosity,” Ava says as the members of the panel nod at the marine.
“Flight Surgeon Luthor, you are officially cleared of all charges and will return to active duty in two weeks time. Your superiors will notify you of the dates of deployment. This hearing is adjourned,” the judge says before smacking the gavel loudly.
The panel stands to their feet, including the general, as the marines in the room all stand to their feet, holding their salutes until the general reaches the doorway. He narrows his gaze at Ava before saluting the marines. They each return the salutes before Ava sighs in relief. She quickly thanks her lawyers before turning around to find her company smiling widely at her. Kerry smiles as nods to her company, with a devilish smirk on her face.
“Guess we’re going back to the pony with our favorite surgeon, marines!” Kerry says with a smile.
“Oohrah!” the company says happily as Ava nods with a shy smile.
“Come on, you have to do it back,” a man says with a wide smile.
“Jacobs is right, Doc! You can’t leave us hanging!” Kerry says as Ava laughs.
“First, I want to say thank you for being here and supporting me. Secondly... Oohrah!” Ava says as the marines cheer before wrapping her in a fierce group hug.
Ava returns the hug, laughing as her marine family showers her with love. The marine smiles widely at the men and women who have become her family over the last several years, thankful for their love and her support during everything that’s happened. The group releases Ava, wrapping their arms around her as the group leads her out of the building in style. Ava smiles as the company laughs and jokes, thankful to be returning overseas with her. The group make their way to the parking lot, each member hugging Ava before she moves to straddle her motorcycle.
“Hey Doc, is your sister still married?” Jacobs asks.
“You already know the answer!” Ava counters.
“Damn. That means there is still hope for us, right?!” Jacobs asks with a smile.
“Ah, come on! Leave Doc, alone! We all know that if she’s picking anyone, it’s me!”
“In your dreams, Rogers!” Jacobs says as Ava laughs.
“I’ll see you boys soon,” Ava says before slipping her helmet over her head. She revs the engine of her motorcycle before pulling out of the parking lot.
The marine nods to herself, silently thankful for the shortened deployment status. However, the base she and her company are being sent back to causes a fearful tremble to surge through her body.
Forty-Five Minutes Later...Ava’s house...
Lena, Alex, Sam, and Kara arranged their work days to make sure they would be at the marine’s home after her meeting. Lena invited Sara, knowing it would mean a lot to her sister to have the woman there waiting for her arrival. The group of women, along with Ace, sit round a small fire in the backyard. The woman sit together as music softly plays in the background as they anxiously await for Ava’s return.
Lena would be lying if she said that today hasn’t been hard on her. She’s been crying off and on all day, as her mind flights the horrible memories associated with this day. The sound of the backdoor opens as Ava walks down to the backyard as the women offer small smiles at the marine.
“How’d it go?!” the women ask simultaneously.
“Well, I’m officially cleared and they reduced my deployment,” Ava says, slowly rubbing the base of her neck. Lena’s eyes study her sister’s movements as the women gasp happily.
“How long?” Alex asks.
“Four months,” Ava says, continuing to rub her neck.
“That’s amazing!” Sara and Sam say simultaneously.
“So, you’ll be back in plenty of time before the nugget arrives! Ava, that’s amazing!” Kara says happily.
“When do you leave?” Alex asks.
“They gave me two weeks to get everything in order,” Ava says softly.
Lena slowly stands to her feet, untangling herself from her wife’s arms before she looks at her sister. Her hand slowly grabs the marine’s, before moving the collar of her fatigues down, revealing a severely inflamed strip of skin at the base of her neck.
“Birdie, níl, (don’t),” Ava says as her lip begins to tremble.
“Fish,” Lena says as her fingers gently touch her sister’s scar.
Ava’s body trembles before she moves away from Lena, before shaking her head. The women look at the siblings as Ava strips out of her fatigue jacket, gently draping it over Sara’s shoulders before untying her boots.
“Ava, what’s wrong?” Sara asks.
“I need to go,” Ava mumbles.
The marine kicks out of her boots, sliding her keys and phone into one of the boots before sprinting toward the dock.
“Ava!” Sam shouts.
“What the hell is she doing?” Sara asks.
“Going for a swim,” Alex says as they watch the marine dive into the water. Lena kicks off her shoes before tying her hair up and sliding the sweatshirt over her head.
“Baby, no. You’re not diving into that water!” Kara says as she grabs Lena’s arm.
“She is hurting right now and I’ll be damned if I sit here and let her go through it alone,” Lena counters.
“Lena think about the baby! That water is freezing!” Kara argues.
“I’m the only one that can get her back. I won’t let anything happen. Please, let me go,” Lena says as a tear falls down her cheek.
“Kara, let her go,” Alex says, gently rubbing her sister’s shoulders.
“Fine, but I’m getting you blankets and towels. You’re not getting off of my lap when you get back. I can’t have anything happen to you,” Kara says before Lena kisses her wife passionately.
“Nothing will. She won’t let it.”
Kara nods slowly, hesitant to let go of her wife’s arm as Lena jogs down the dock. The women stand to their feet and rush toward the end of the dock as Lena dives into the cold water. The CEO resurfaces quickly, shaking her head lightly as she rapidly swims after her sister who is holding onto a small buoy. Lena can hear Ava sobbing, and as she glances up, she notices Ava’s fingers digging into the base of her neck. Lena knows it’s Ava’s mind trying to stop her brother from pushing the knife into her skin and it causes Lena’s heart to break. It doesn’t happen often that Ava has flashbacks, but when they do, they aren’t pretty.
Lena slowly approaches Ava, using her hand to grab onto the buoy as the marine rapidly digs at her neck. Lena grabs Ava’s hand, holding it tightly as the marine tries to rip her hand away.
“Hey! It’s me, your little bird. He can’t hurt you anymore. You kept me safe. I’m here,” Lena coos as Ava’s thrashing starts to stop. The marine shakes her head before breaking down into sobs, causing the CEO to press her forehead against Ava’s, before cradling her sister’s face with her hand.
“Bealtaine grá agus gáire solas do laethanta, agus te do chroí agus do bhaile. Go mbeifeá leatsa cairde maithe dílse, pé áit is féidir leat fánaíocht. Go mbreithneoidh síocháin agus neart do dhomhan leis an áthas a mhaireann fada. Bealtaine go dtabharfaidh séasúir rite an tsaoil an chuid is fearr duitse agus leatsa. (May love and laughter light your days, and warm your heart and home. May good and faithful friends be yours, wherever you may roam. May peace and plenty bless your world with joy that long endures. May all life’s passing seasons bring the best to you and yours),” Lena says softly as Ava nods.
“Y-you remembered,” Ava says as Lena nods.
“It’s the only blessing our parents ever taught us. I’ll never forget the way Mom butchered it in Irish,” Lena says as Ava nods at the memory.
“Birdie,” Ava says.
“I’m here. I’m safe,” Lena says as the marine cups Lena’s cheek, pressing their foreheads impossibly closer together.
“I couldn’t keep them safe,” Ava says sadly. Lena shakes her head, knowing her sister has always carried that guilt with her—feeling helpless that she couldn’t do anything to save them.
“You were their strong marine. That’s what they needed. They live with us, in our hearts every day. They’re so proud of us. I am so proud of you for everything that you did and everything that you do for me every day. You are my whole heart and you always will be. Please, you have to believe that,” Lena says as tears fall down her cheeks.
“Birdie, I don’t want to leave you again. I can’t let anything happen to you while I’m away. You’re my only reason for coming home,” Ava says as she cries. Lena lets go of the buoy, wrapping her wraps around the marine before planting a kiss against the Ava’s cheek.
“You told me that you would always come back for me. Now, I’m telling you, I will always come back for you. I promise,” Lena says as she hugs her sister tightly. The marine feels the CEO tremble slightly before Ava nods.
“We need to get you out of the water. I’m shocked Kara even let you out here,” Ava says before Lena shakes her head.
“Just because I’m pregnant doesn’t make me invalid. You are more important,” Lena says before the marine plants a firm kiss against the CEO’s forehead.
“You may not be invalid but you’re cold. Come on, let’s head back,” Ava says as Lena nods.
“Hold my hand?” Lena asks as Ava interlocks their hands together.
“Thank you for coming after me,” Ava says as the women begin swimming toward the dock.
“I gcónaí, (always),” Lena says.
The siblings make their short swim back to the dock and Ava protectively pushes Lena toward the dock’s ladder as she hoists herself onto the dock with ease. The marine stands in front of the ladder, extending her hand toward Lena, which she gratefully accepts before the marine wraps her arms around her sister in a fierce hug.
“I love you, Birdie,” Ava says softly. Lena gently pulls on Ava’s shirt collar before planting a light kiss against the scar on her neck. The marine chokes back a sob as the CEO looks at her a small nod.
“I love you,” Lena says.
The CEO takes Ava’s hand into her own as they walk toward the house. The four women are standing at the beginning of the dock with their arms held widely, as they hold open blankets before wrapping their arms around the soaked siblings. The group of women cling onto each other, holding the siblings tightly as they slowly lead them into the house.
The marine’s grip around Lena’s hand tightens as they make their way into Ava’s home.
Lena said something to Ava that struck her to the core, changing everything inside the marine. She had a new plan, the other women just didn’t know it yet.
|
It had been three days since Pine became a temporary member of their pack and so far he hadn't really been doing his job. At least not to the expectations of what Claire built up in her mind.
Pine was either in his bedroom doing paperwork for other cases he was closing up or he was on their couch reading various novels. He was pleasant and quite - engaging even with idle chit-chat with the other men. Claire kept her distance because she and her wolf were still trying to figure him out.
Now, granted they hadn't gone outside the house but you'd think he'd at least be in the room with them instead of locked away in his bedroom. Claire's wolf screamed he was enjoying this mini vacation away from the office. She wasn't so sure about that. Claire thought that Pine was watching them in a very subtle sort of way that made them believe he wasn't. It was easier to catch people breaking 'the rules' if they thought the coast was clear.
The only other person besides Claire that seemed to catch onto this was Sebastian, but then again, her Seb had always been rather observant over the others.
"What's her name?" Pine asked, coming to kneel down on the floor where Claire was laying.
Pepper was running after one of her little jingle balls and nudging it back to Claire so she could roll it away for the hog to retrieve. It was their own little game of 'fetch'
"Pepper," Claire told him,
"She's adorable! A hedgehog, yes?"
"Yep, just a baby too," Claire replied, happy to see that someone other than her and Michael appeared to be overly enthusiastic over their pet.
"I love animals," Pine stated, allowing Pepper to sniff his fingers.
Pep's quills were still flat on her back and her body language was relaxed. She seemed to be rather indifferent to this strange man in their home which spoke volumes. Animals tended to have a good sense of who's 'good or bad'
"Unfortunately with my work I can't have one," he added, scratching Pepper's cheek with his finger as she stood up, her front paws on Pine's thigh. She sniffed at him, whiskers going a mile a minute along with her small nose. "Hello, beautiful," he cooed, "You're so pretty like your momma,"
No one was in the living room except Seb who appeared to be sleeping. A powernap before his night shift in the ER later that day. Tom was at work while Chris and Michael were in their own homes sleeping and relaxing for their night shifts. It would make sense that Pine would say something like that when no one but Claire could hear it. Ignoring the gesture of praise she focused on Pepper.
"Where do you get a hedgehog?" Pine asked, sitting down properly with his legs crossed in front of him.
Pepper went back to her toys and ignored them until it was time for Claire to roll the jingle ball once more for her. "I don't know really. I found her, someone had abandoned her at a bus stop and I took her home."
"That's awful!" Pine snapped, waking Seb up with a startle.
"I'm still pissed off if I think about it too much. Pep is probably one of the smartest animals I've ever owned." Claire replied, giving Sebastian a reassuring look. She blew the man an air kiss and he settled back down on the couch. "Well, maybe besides a dog."
"Pepper is a mini dog," Seb grumbled from the couch, making sure that they both knew he was present and still awake.
Pepper decided to leave the both of them and go for a jaunt towards the kitchen where hopefully she could find a tasty treat someone dropped. Because of this Pine stood up and sat on a chair next to Seb's head, picking up his novel from off the coffee table.
"When is everyone going to be able to participate in a run?" Pine asked Seb, "I'm wanting to observe you as a pack and Claire's interactions."
"Probably Saturday," he answered, "Weekends are generally when we all have off,"
Tom and Sebastian had been the friendliest towards Pine while Michael and Chris actively keeping their distance. Claire would have thought for sure Tom would be the most resistant.
"I'd really like to see your wolf," Pine told her, looking at Claire's lounging form on the floor.
All her injuries were healed and disappeared leaving her to feel normal and somewhat healthy. Claire was blown away at how fast she had healed. If she was still human she'd be limping around the house.
"I bet," Claire told him, watching Pepper sniff around, "Leave daddies plants alone!" she called out loudly when it became apparent that Pepper wanted to nibble on Tom's plant once more. There were a few leaves with hog teeth marks on them.
Pepper paused only a moment before extending her neck towards the leaves. Claire scrambled to her feet and grabbed her before she had a chance to have a snack. In response to being foiled Pepper crossed her quills and hissed at her leaving Claire to put Pepper on the floor of the living room. Throwing a temper tantrum Pep tucked her head and legs under her body and only presented her spiky back, hissing and jumping up a little whenever Claire tried to touch her.
Pine was fascinated by this behavior and leaned forward observing the temperamental animal curiously.
"Is she having a fit?" he asked in amusement.
"She doesn't like getting caught being naughty," Claire told him with a smirk, "Pepper will get over it eventually,"
"That's hilarious!" Pine told her, "Has she bitten anyone before?"
"No," Claire sighed, "But I wouldn't put it past her if someone tried to pick her up right now. Every hiss and lunge basically means 'fuck off - leave me alone' in hedgehog. We don't manhandle her in this state."
Sebastian wasn't going to get any sleep with them talking so he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the couch, looking at Pepper with a head shake,
"Spoiled brat," he mumbled before getting up and heading to the bathroom,
Claire, as she often did, took Sebastian's place on the couch and tucked her legs under her somewhat protectively while gazing at Pine. He, in turn, relaxed in the chair and gazed right back at her. She had concluded that he had a very kind face and demeanor. There was very little to no alpha at all in him, unlike Michael. If anything he appeared to be more beta.
"You know, I thought you'd be literally two inches behind me at all times. I didn't expect you to be so distant." Claire told him honestly trying to get a feel for how the next six months are going to be like.
"You see, it's a bit tricky," Pine explained gently, "When your human it's not so much of a concern for us. It's when you turn over into your wolf we're concerned. Obviously being out in public and behaving in a manner that would indicate that perhaps you aren't human is a thing to watch for. I haven't seen anything you've done that would make me think you'd have that problem. What I wish to accomplish is make sure that your wolf is trained properly and you don't have any further incidents like with the human."
"Training..." Claire murmured, biting her lip lightly, "I don't understand what that means,"
Seb came back with a can of soda and sat on the very end of the couch with his phone, ignoring their interaction.
Pine placed himself in a more reserved position than before and dropped the dopey gaze from his face. "Balance," he answered, "Paw control, fighting techniques, how to tug and carry things with your mouth,"
"Homing in on your sense of smell and how to identify things," Seb told her, never looking up from his phone. "How to locate things by hearing, howling and climbing slopes - low line trees even."
Claire hadn't done any of those things. All she did so far was run around and occasionally sniffed a few things. It hadn't even occurred to her that she needed to actually learn those things. Claire thought it just came naturally to her.
"You appear to be a very intelligent young woman so training should come fast and easy for you," Pine assured her.
The sound of that plastic jingle ball indicated that Pepper was no longer mad and back to being playful. They looked down to see her push the plastic ball across the living room to where her other toys were.
"Well that ended in record timing," Sebastian commented, observing the hog pick up her small stuffed animal and carry it a bit before dropping it. "Normally she's pissed for at least a half hour." |
The Jam Incident took about a week to clean up completely. Fortunately for Tommy and Tubbo, Puffy and Jack were apparently also in trouble with Niki, and thus were made to help them. The task went much quicker with four of them, but then Tommy and Tubbo found out that they had to help restore Niki’s bakery as well.
All in all, the lesson learned was that jam was evil, and that none of them should be allowed in the kitchen alone.
Wilbur also cleaned the fridge. Possibly for the first time in a decade.
And as much as Tommy resented cleaning duty, he was almost glad for how quickly it helped things return to normal.
Soon, his usual routine had been reinstated. He spent his days patrolling with Wilbur and Tubbo; stopping crime and joking around. He would leave Dream’s ring in various hard-to-reach places and sigh in disappointment when he returned home (at this point, the fear was starting to fade; Dream hadn’t made a move yet, and Tommy was starting to believe the man was just trying to scare him, or that it was someone else entirely just pulling a prank). He would stay up late playing games on his phone, and be scolded by Wilbur when he came to check on Tommy around the middle of the night.
Really, the only difference was how clingy Wilbur had become.
Well, honestly, Wilbur had always been clingy. Tommy had long since accepted it. He knew it was odd for brothers to be as close as he and Wilbur were, but trauma had a twisted way of bringing people closer together.
But somehow Wilbur had become even more protective. Even if Tommy wanted to do something as simple as walk to Tubbo’s house, Wilbur would escort him there. It was as if he were six again.
It was annoying, to say the least. Tommy wasn’t helpless; he was a vigilante, and he could look after himself. He was still a child– even he would acknowledge that– but there was a difference between a ten year old and a teenager. Even if he was on the more childish side sometimes, he was still an independent individual who was more capable than most people his age.
Tommy wished Wilbur understood how he felt. It was nice to be taken care of, but not to an extreme degree. He wanted to have a collection of stuffed animals and action figures while still being able to walk around SMP on his own. To be able to come to his brother when he had nightmares, but not be checked on in the dead of night. To have a nightlight but not be babied. Was that really too much to ask?
Apparently, because whenever he tried to bring it up to Wilbur, the both of them ended up hurt and upset.
Tubbo had been the one to suggest Tommy ask for clearer boundaries.
Tommy knew Tubbo was his opposite in this regard; Tubbo pretty much lived alone at this point. Even when his dad stumbled into the house in the middle of the day, black-out drunk, they didn’t really talk. They were strangers living under one roof. Barely. Tubbo’s dad was gone most of the time.
So while Tommy knew that Tubbo’s views on family were probably skewed as well, he thought it sounded like good advice. After all, Tubbo had been spending a lot of time with Sally and Fundy lately, and they were the closest thing to a functional family either of the teens had seen in a very long time.
But the first few times Tommy had talked to Wilbur about it, it had been reminiscent of his attempts to talk to Sam about why he had originally agreed to stay with him. Tommy would get upset and back away from the conversation.
It was odd, considering Tommy wasn’t usually afraid of confrontation. But there was a difference between fighting a bad guy and asking the man who had raised you to stop doing something he had been doing for your entire life.
When Tommy finally managed to approach Wilbur about the situation, it was to ask him to stop escorting Tommy wherever he went. It seemed like a safe topic, considering it was only something that Wilbur had begun to do recently. Or so Tommy had assumed.
As it turned out, he was wrong.
Wilbur hadn’t exactly freaked out, but it had been clear that he was upset with what Tommy was asking. He had stayed silent until Tommy was done explaining himself (which had included quite a bit of stuttering and trailing off in the middle of his sentences), and then took a deep breath before stating that, respectfully, he wouldn’t be doing that. Apparently, Tommy’s disappearance had freaked him out too much.
This had led to Tommy arguing that it was entirely unrelated, which led to Wilbur accusing Tommy of not taking Wilbur’s feelings in consideration, which had led to Tommy storming off to his room and slamming the door. Of course.
It was similar to most of their fights. They would argue, Tommy would storm off, Wilbur would come into his room later that night, and then they would fall asleep together.
But that didn’t happen this time. Tommy grabbed the chair by his desk and stuck it under the door handle to prevent Wilbur from coming in before he went to bed. If his brother wasn’t going to respect his boundaries willingly, then Tommy would make him.
It seemed like a good idea until later that night, when Wilbur inevitably tried to open his door, found it ‘locked’ and freaked out.
Tommy, who had been sleeping peacefully, was woken by Wilbur pounding on the door and calling his name in a panicked voice. The temptation to roll over, bury himself under the covers, and go back to sleep was a strong one.
But Wilbur sounded near tears, and Tommy didn’t want to have to replace his door if Wilbur broke it down. So, Tommy forced himself out from under the warm covers and shuffled over to his door. He pulled the chair away and within moments, the door was flung open with a loud bang, and a heavy weight crashed into Tommy.
Caught unaware, Tommy and Wilbur both tumbled to the floor, Wilbur twisting them so he landed on the bottom and took the brunt of the impact. But he didn’t let go of Tommy, instead crushing the smaller boy against him.
It was suffocating.
Wilbur was clearly crying. His face was buried in Tommy’s hair, and his arms were squeezing too tight.
Tommy was tired. He wanted Wilbur to let go so he could go back to sleep. He squirmed uncomfortably, but there was no way for him to shift his position with Wilbur’s death grip around him. He really wanted Wilbur to let go; Prime, his skin felt like it was shifting over his bones, slowly trying to peel itself off by the tips of his fingers.
Hugs had never felt this unpleasant before, but then again, Tommy had never been in a situation where he didn’t want a hug.
Fortunately, a moment later the doorbell rang.
Wilbur’s breath hitched, indicating that he had heard it too.
But who could it be at this time of night? It was too late for any reasonable person to be bothering them.
Tommy took the opportunity to break out of Wilbur’s hold and scramble to his feet. He moved toward the door of his room.
“Wait here.” Wilbur stood and pushed past him, closing the door behind him. There was no longer any trace of tears in his voice.
Disregarding both Wilbur and common sense, Tommy opened the door and followed him to the entranceway.
Wilbur, who had already opened the door, glanced over his shoulder when he heard Tommy approaching, and stepped to the side to allow Tommy to see their guest.
Quackity stood before them, looking frazzled, with his hair sticking up in a way that suggested he had just woken up as well.
“Quackity? What’re you doing here?” Tommy blinked hard and rubbed at his eyes, as if that would change what he was seeing.
“Wait– Tommy? You’re back?” Quackity ignored Tommy’s question, which was fair, honestly. Tommy hadn’t quite gotten around to calling him about his return yet.
“Yeah, we can talk later. What’s going on?” Tommy tried to redirect the conversation back to the topic at hand.
“There’s a lead.” Quackity was looking at Wilbur now, even though Tommy was the one asking the question. “Time traveler. Tonight, two a.m., lower district warehouses.”
Immediately, Wilbur was bolting to his room, presumably to put on his vigilante uniform.
Tommy watched him go, before turning back to Quackity. “What— a time traveler? How does that even work? Like, how would you know?”
He shrugged in response. “It’s not guaranteed, but the guy who gave me the tip has been working with me for a long time. And if the guy doesn’t show up, no harm done. Better safe than sorry.” He put his hand on Tommy’s shoulder. “If there’s even the smallest chance we can stop this here and now, we have to take it.”
Tommy opened his mouth, closed it, and nodded before running off to his own room to get ready.
—
Honestly, Bad was shocked his plan had actually worked. When he had fed that tip to Schlatt, he had expected the man to ask more questions than he had. But apparently his word was good enough; a benefit to being known as a good man, he supposed.
He had come up with the plan within just a few hours. Dream hadn’t given him a lot of time to work out the finer details. He had wanted things to move quickly. And to be honest, Bad was starting to grow tired of waiting as well.
Dream tried to feed him a lot of fluff about his plans, and Bad had always gone along with it. But he wasn’t an idiot; he knew that Dream wasn’t in control as he thought he was. Nobody could predict the actions of the dozen or so people Dream was relying on to act according to his desires.
Still, Bad stuck by him. He believed in Dream’s goals; that was why he had begun to follow him in the first place. That was why he had placed so much time and effort into helping Dream prepare. But every time Dream changed the plan, or postponed the next step, Bad’s loyalty faded a bit.
Of course, he would never straight up betray the man. At this point, he considered Dream to be something of a friend, as well as a leader. He didn’t see why that should have to change. But if he had to take matters into his own hands, he would.
For now, though, he was still happy to do what was asked of him. And at the moment, that meant setting up the next step in Dream’s current plan.
It hadn’t taken long for the idea of framing Karl to pop into his head. Sort of a two birds, one stone kind of scenario.
That wasn’t to say Karl was a huge problem these days; he mostly kept to himself, and only really popped out of obscurity once a couple years ago, but he had been handled quickly. The real problem was the potential he had. The first time, nobody had been interested in talking to Karl long enough to find out who he was or why he had decided to turn into some sort of seemingly directionless supervillain. But this time, with Dream’s actions being more prevalent within society, there was a good chance that Karl had taken notice. And if it happened to jog something in his memory, then there would be nothing stopping him from blabbing about what he had seen and been through. And if that happened… well, Bad had a good reason for wanting him out of the picture.
Unfortunately, his current plan wouldn’t actually get rid of Karl, but at least it would set up a healthy amount of fear in regards to him. Maybe he could talk to Dream about putting together a more permanent solution for the Karl problem. But for now, this would have to do.
—
“So, run this by me one more time.”
“Wilbur, you’re a fucking idiot.”
“Don’t care. Explain to me how exactly a time traveler has been ordering vigilantes to be captured.” Despite sprinting at top speed across the rooftops, Tommy thought Wilbur was doing a great job of portraying just how stupid Quackity’s supposed lead was.
“Listen, I don’t get it either. But my guy heard it from a very reliable source–”
“Who?”
“Bad.”
“A bad guy? We fight bad guys, Quackity!”
“No, you dumbass! Bad, as in the guy everyone likes! And trusts! Who just so happens to be named Bad!”
“He should really change his name,” Tommy chimed in. Actually, was his name really Bad? That seemed like a bad name. Oh. Haha, pun.
“Well, if you were talking about Bad, then you should’ve made that more clear!” Wilbur protested, ignoring Tommy.
Tommy thought Quackity might actually push Wilbur off the roof based on his expression. Somehow, he restrained himself.
They settled into relative silence afterward, the only remaining sounds their panting breaths and footfalls as they raced against time.
Around them, the world zipped past in a blur. It was dark, and Tommy barely registered his surroundings aside from where he would need to jump between buildings.
For such an important moment, it felt dull.
They were about to potentially discover the man behind the vigilantes' disappearances, but it felt like any other patrol. His brother and his friend were beside him, arguing as always, and he was thinking more about the uncomfortable strap on his elbow pad that had gotten twisted than he was about the upcoming fight.
“Hey,” a voice beside him called.
Tommy glanced over to see Tubbo, who was keeping up just fine.
Quackity had mentioned calling other vigilantes, but Tommy hadn’t known Tubbo would be one of them. Usually the kids were left out of things like this. It had been pure luck that Tommy had been with Wilbur when the older man had been informed of tonight’s confrontation.
“Hey,” Tommy responded, grinning.
With Tubbo here, things were sure to go smoothly. There was no reason to worry after all. It really would go down like any other mission. A simple conclusion to a problem that had been plaguing them for months.
With a quick glance around, Tommy noted a few other silhouettes. A flash of bright pink hair in the moonlight told him one of them was Niki, which meant the other was probably her friend.
They had an entire team, and apparently they would be fighting only one man. Sure, he was a time traveler, but if they could knock him out that would be the end of it, surely.
As the clock approached two in the morning, Tommy and his friend approached the lower district warehouses. Quackity took the lead as they got closer, and slowed the pace.
Moving through the warehouses slowly, all six of them took the time to scout the area. They didn’t have long, but it was still best to make sure there wasn’t any backup lurking around waiting to ambush them. They found nothing.
Eventually, Quackity took them to one of the inconspicuous warehouses and hauled open the doors to lead them into a space filled with what looked like construction equipment and shelves upon shelves lined with boxes that climbed all the way to the ceiling.
“Lots of places to hide,” Niki pointed out, “and if he knows the terrain, it would be easy to run.”
“Any chance Eret’s coming?” Niki’s bald friend who Tommy still didn’t remember the name of asked. “If we could freeze the guy in place, it’ll be a quick fight.”
“They said they’re busy,” Quackity called over his shoulder as he opened one of the boxes. He pulled out a metal pipe. “Doesn’t look like anything special in here.”
“Probably supposed to just be a random place for a meeting.” Wilbur knelt next to one of the larger boxes and looked at the label. “Looks like the warehouse is owned by an upper district construction company. They probably sponsor the heroes or something, which would mean it’s a pretty safe bet to say they rented the space.”
Tommy tuned them out and focused more on scouting out any potential escape routes. Whether the time traveler tried to make a break for it, or Tommy and his friends needed to escape, it was a good idea to map out more than one exit.
Like most warehouses in the area, there were windows lining the top of each wall. The shelves would be pretty easy to climb as well, assuming the boxes didn’t get in the way. Tommy would probably have the advantage in a situation like that– his raccoon traits were perfect for climbing in environments such as this.
“Tommy!” Wilbur called his attention back to the group. “Come here, we’re making a plan.”
Meandering back, Tommy half-listened as the adults talked. It was mostly the politics of the situation at hand. Not something Tommy was particularly interested in hearing about. He made more of an effort to pay attention when they started divvying up roles.
Each of them would take a different spot around the warehouse edges. When the time traveler appeared, they would shout to the others and rush him from all sides. It was a simple plan, but it didn’t need to be any more complicated when there were six of them against one man.
They assumed their positions and waited for the clock to strike two.
With nothing in sight to distract him, Tommy’s mind began to wander. To recalled the last major mission he had been on. He vastly preferred this one. They were all together in one place, and even if he couldn’t see the others, all it would take to bring them to him was a single shout. There was no way for him to be singled out and sent down some hallucinogenic path to hell.
That didn’t necessarily mean that he in any way regretted the last mission. That was how he met Sam, after all. Whether he wanted to admit it to himself or not, Sam had drastically shifted the way he viewed both himself and Wilbur. And now that he was on another major mission that could potentially be putting his very life in danger, Tommy was left to remember what Sam had said.
Most kids didn’t do things like this.
Most kids didn’t have to.
He should be at home, snuggled up in his bed with Henry. Not fighting some supervillain intent on making vigilantes disappear off the streets of SMP. If he were a regular kid, then this would be a school night. He would have a test tomorrow, but he would be staying up late watching YouTube anyway. That was how normal kids did things, right?
Tommy glanced down at the watch Quackity had handed him to help him count down the minutes.
1:59 AM.
Any second now.
A loud crash, followed by a loud yell, resounded from Tubbo’s section of the warehouse.
Tommy took off like a shot, racing to find his best friend.
He nearly made it, too.
Just as he turned the corner to the aisle Tubbo was in, something heavy and large crashed into his side, and suddenly he was tumbling through the darkness. |
I do not own Harry Potter or the Walking Dead
Please enjoy and review.
***HP
"Stupid bastard," Sirius grumbled as he rushed out the prison gate. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?" he hollered.
Grunting, Merle yanked his knife out of the walker's skull then quickly plunged it into the skull of the one behind it. "He doesn't need to see his uncle's fat assed remains rotting outside the fence."
With a flick of his wand, Sirius decapitated ten walkers that were closing in on Merle."You could have told someone that you were coming out so I could watch your back." He would never admit it, but Daryl's brother was starting to grow on him. He would never forgive him for what he had done to his pup, but very deep down Merle really wasn't that bad. In his own fucked up way, he had honestly thought that he had been doing best by his brother when he lied about Harry's death. At least he had hid his pup and left him supplies instead of leaving him unconscious on the forest floor for any wandering Walker to munch on.
"How is he?" Merle asked, stalking up to the rotting body of the abusive, fat fucker and kicking it in the head.
"Emotionally drained," Sirius sighed shakily. "He fell asleep in Daryl's arms."
Merle was so angry that he wanted to scream and shout and kill something. The monster at his feet was easily four hundred pounds heavier than his brother's brat, how did he ever survive fifteen years of abuse at his hands? It wasn't just the abuse, Harry had also been starved. He remembered the small, waif like boy that stood up to him with large eyes flooded with fear refusing to leave his brother despite him threatening him. As far as he was concerned, he was no better than the trash at his feet. With just two punches to the head, he had knocked the boy out cold.
Harry's words had been like a knife twisting in his heart. Despite years of abuse and hate, he never gave up hoping that his family would start loving him. He did as ordered and never fought back. He had even forgiven him for knocking him out and leaving him all alone to fend for himself in the middle of the world going to hell. Even after showing up at the prison he threatened the kid and called him horrible names, and still he never gave up trying to get him to like him.
"He's gotten to you, hasn't he?" Sirius snickered, waving his wand and incinerating the body of Harry's uncle. He wished he could have done it while the man was still alive.
"He's a stupid little shit," Merle grumbled. "His heart is going to get him killed."
"But it's his heart that is melting your cold one," Sirius shot back. "That boy, despite what he has been through, has a heart ten times bigger than anyone I have ever met before. He would sacrifice his life to save a complete stranger. Don't get me wrong, Harry has a lot of faults, but his capacity to love isn't one of them. You're just upset because he's making you feel."
Grinding his teeth together, Merle watched as a couple dozen walkers headed in their direction, but veered off when they caught a whiff of Sirius. "I want you to bite me!"
"Excuse me?" Sirius choked out. "I didn't think that I was your type."
"You know what I fucking mean," Merle hissed. "I want you to bite me on the next full moon."
Sirius wasn't going to waste his breath or energy arguing with the stubborn, bullheaded redneck, he could tell by the look in his eyes that he had made his mind up and there would be no changing it. "It's going to hurt like a bitch," he warned.
"I wouldn't know about pain," Merle said sarcastically waving the knife that he had for a hand in the air. "I only sawed my own fucking hand off."
Raising his eyebrows, Sirius looked at the arm in question. "If you survive the venom, and that's a very big if, there's a good chance your wolf would be missing a paw. I'm not really sure how that works."
"So," Merle responded flatly. "I've seen some three legged dogs before. I even seen one given it to his bitch once. If he can fuck on three legs then I can kill some dead on three legs."
Sirius didn't doubt for a second that Merle would survive the bite, he was more concerned about Moony and Slayer tearing his throat out. Just because he had moved on from what Merle did to their pup didn't mean that their wolves had. There was a good chance that they would kill him.
"I'll take it up with Remus when he returns. He'll be the one biting you. Does Daryl know?"
"Ain't none of his business," Merle growled. "Stupid not to get bit when it keeps the dead away. If my pussy of a brother can handle it than so can old Merle."
"It will make us stronger," Sirius reluctantly admitted. "We're going to be stuck here for months, four wolves will give us a huge advantage and more hunters."
Merle didn't know what came over him, he hadn't planned of asking to be bit, he hadn't even considered it before, but watching as the dead kept away from the werewolf, he knew that it was the only way to go. He didn't want to die, not yet and not by being eaten. His baby brother and his little princess needed him.
***HP
Rubbing his eyes with one hand and gripping the rail with the other, Harry groggily made his way down the steps looking for his missing mate. With a yawn, he frowned when he saw that only Glenn was downstairs.
"You alright there, Harry?" Glenn asked in concern when he noticed that the kid looked a little pale and shaky.
"M'fine," Harry mumbled sleepily. "Just tired."
"Tired!" Glenn scoffed, placing the gun on the table that he had been cleaning. "You have been asleep since yesterday afternoon."
Frowning some more, Harry looked out the window but it was hard to tell if it was morning, afternoon or early evening. "What time is it?"
"It's four, sleepy head," Glenn chuckled. "You have been asleep for twenty seven hours."
Harry's mouth dropped open in shock. "How the hell did I sleep so long? I have never slept that long in my life."
Cursing when Harry stumbled into the corner of the table, Glenn quickly got up and helped the unsteady boy to a chair. "Hey, are you sure you're alright? You don't look so good."
Letting out a shaky breath, Harry nodded his head. "Just got a little dizzy there for a second. I probably just need to eat something."
"Right," Glenn said, slapping his hand on the table. "Your dad left you some food, said there was a charm on it to keep it fresh and warm."
Harry's stomach gave a lurch when Glenn placed a plate with chicken and potatoes on it in front of him. Averting his eyes before he threw up, he looked to Glenn and gave a weak smile. "Thanks. Where is my dad?"
Retaking his seat, Glenn picked up another gun and started cleaning it. A jammed or zombie crud filled gun could cost you your life so they took the maintenance of them very seriously. "He went scavenging with Daryl and Merle. He said with the full moon approaching that him and Daryl were starting to feel restless." It was weird, he had always been the runner for the group, but now he got to remain safely behind the prison gates. In a way he missed it, but there was plenty to do around here and he no longer had to worry about risking his life and leaving Maggie alone in this fucked up world.
Picking at the chicken but not eating it, Harry watched as Glenn mechanically cleaned the gun. No matter how hard he tried, shooting a gun was just something that he sucked at. He did hit the target a few times, but magic and swords were more his thing. Still, Daryl refused to let him give it up, he wanted him to know how to fight, wield a knife and sword, and shoot a gun and the crossbow. It was sweet how much he cared, but learning how to defend himself using so many weapons was exhausting.
"You ok after yesterday?" Glenn asked softly. He didn't see the entire episode at the fence, but he had seen enough.
Harry's heart skipped a few beats at the mention of the day before. He had honestly been trying to forget about it. Out of the entire state of Georgia, his uncle had to show up at the prison. Why was fate so against him?
"I'm fine," Harry said, giving Glenn a crooked smile.
Glenn didn't believe the boy for a minute, and he had just opened his mouth to say so when he heard Maggie yelling for him. Scooping up one of the clean guns, he jumped up and took off for the courtyard.
Still feeling shaky and a bit dizzy, Harry got up and followed Glenn at a much slower pace. He was just happy to be leaving the food behind, the sight and smell of it had been making him sick. He wondered if he was coming down with a stomach bug or something.
Stepping out in the courtyard and shielding his eyes from the sun, Harry looked down to the gate where he saw Glenn, Maggie, Rick and Carol. It was hard to tell from his distance, but it looked as though the were talking to someone on the other side. Taking a deep breath, he slowly started to make his way to them.
"I'm sorry but we can't," Rick said tightly.
"Just the girls then?"
As Harry got closer he spotted a large black male with a black female and two little blonde girls. The oldest girl looked to be about twelve and the youngest around ten. It was clear to see that they were sisters. All four strangers looked dirty, exhausted and desperate for help.
"I'm sorry, but we can't take anyone else in," Rick said, refusing to make eye contact with the people on the other side of the gate.
"Look, the girls just lost their father a few miles back," Sasha explained. "They need a safe place to sleep and some food. We got it loud and clear last time we were here that you didn't want us, but please just take them in."
Rick hadn't recognized them at first, but the man and woman were with the group that he had kicked out a few weeks back when he was in the middle of his psychotic break. Hershel had trusted them and had wanted them to join their group, but he didn't want to be responsible for anymore lives. It was just too dangerous taking in strangers.
Harry's heart went out to the two little girls whose faces were covered with dirt and tears. Like him, they were now orphans. "We have to let them in," he said, turning pleading eyes on Rick.
Closing his eyes, Rick took a couple deep breaths. He didn't want to turn them away either, but they were so close to getting a safe home in Harry's world, if he let them in then that would make four more people they had to feed and make a port-thingie for to take to the Wizarding World with them. He just wanted to be reunited with his kids.
"Look man," Tyreese pleaded. "We're dying out here. Woodbury fell after the Governor disappeared and we were one of the only ones who got out alive. We met up with another small group but the biters got them earlier today. The girls are physically and emotionally exhausted, they can't go on. For crying out loud, they just saw their daddy get killed. Have a heart."
Harry reached out and grabbed Rick's arm. "Please, we have room and I'll help look after them. We can't send them away to get killed."
Sighing in defeat, Rick motioned for Glenn to open the gates. How the hell was Daryl able to say no to that boy? "You two can come, too," he said when he saw that Tyreese and Sasha were just standing there. "Hershel trusted you and he was an excellent judge of character."
"Was?" Sasha asked, picking up on the past tense.
"Oh, he's not dead," Harry quickly corrected. "We just found a safer place and moved him, Beth and the kids first."
"Harry," Rick hissed, grabbing the boy and dragging him away from the rest of the group. "We can't take anymore in like this. We'll never get out of here if we open the gates for every stray."
"You can take the portkey next time, Rick, no one will blame you for wanting to be with your kids. I'm dying to go home too, but I couldn't live with myself if we turned them away...especially the little girls."
"I'm not leaving anyone behind," Rick stressed. "I just think that after this we should keep the numbers as is. As it is it's going to take months for us all to get out of here."
"I know, Rick, and I'll do my best, but I can't make any promises. If they're good people I won't be able to turn them away. My dads told me that you tried turning us away, aren't you glad now that you didn't?"
"That's different," Rick defended.
"But you didn't know that at the time. We were just strangers that you didn't want anything to do with because you were scared that we would hurt your family. I understand where you are coming from, Rick, and I admire you for it, but I can't leave people out to die."
"You and Daryl are completely different," Rick chuckled.
"Not really," Harry smiled. "When Daryl found me I was hopelessly lost in the woods. He could have left me there crying, but he came back and fed me and took me home. Daryl's all rough and tough on the outside, but on the inside he's nothing but a big, sweet teddy bear."
"You better not let my brother hear you call him that," Merle guffawed loudly, walking up to the pair. "The wolf may just have to punish you and leave you limping for two days again."
Blushing, Harry smacked Merle's arm. "Shut up...and I wasn't limping for two days."
"It was more like three," Glenn added with a wink.
Crying out loud, Harry threw his hands up in the air. "I'm leaving, you all are being mean to me," he pouted. Turning away to hide his grin, he made his way back to the prison feeling a hell of a lot better now. He didn't know what was ailing him when he first woke, but he was glad that whatever it was had disappeared.
***HP
"Where did you get all this food?" Tyreese asked as the boy placed a plate of cupcakes in front of them."
"Icing, too," Sasha moaned. "They didn't even have icing at Woodbury."
"My dads are good at finding supplies and hunting and I'm good at finding creative ways of cooking," Harry partially lied. It was true, his dads were good at scavenging and hunting, but he hadn't cooked any of the food that he served the new people. Everything that they were eating was cooked by Mrs. Weasley.
Harry watched as the oldest girl, Lizzy, grabbed a cupcake with pink icing and happily started eating it. The other girl, Mika, was just sitting there looking sadly down at her hands. Heart going out to the little ten year old, he picked up a cupcake with blue icing and sat down next to her. "For you," he said softly, offering her the cupcake.
With tears in her eyes, Mika shook her head no. "I don't want it," she said voice barely above a whisper.
"That's alright," Harry said, setting the cupcake down in front of her. "Take it anyway incase you change your mind later. I'm sorry about your daddy, I lost my mom and dad too when I was little."
Rubbing at her bloodshot eyes, Mika looked up at Harry. "I'm sorry."
"How about we be each other's family now?" Harry offered. "Everyone here is great and I have never had a little sister before. I would love for you and Lizzy to be my sisters."
For the first time since entering the prison, Mika smiled. "I would like that. I never had a big brother before."
"Me, too," Lizzy said, grabbing another cupcake. "I would love to have a big brother, too."
Harry looked up when he heard Merle snort. "You're too nice, Princess," he said with a shake of his head. "I want you in the field in twenty minutes for practice. You need a good ass kicking to toughening you up."
Rolling his eyes, Harry watched as Merle turned and left the prison. "Just ignore him," he told the girls who also had their eyes on Merle. "Just think of Merle as your grumpy uncle."
"Are you sure they're safe around him?" Tyreese asked, scowling at the man's back. "He was a bastard at Woodbury."
"That's because he is a bastard," Harry snorted. "But his bark really is worse than his bite. I have been working on thawing his cold heart out, it's slow going, but I'm getting there. He really does care, he just doesn't know how to show it."
"You're something, kid," Sasha chuckled. "You weren't here last time we were here. Are you new?"
"Kinda of," Harry answered, smiling warmly when Mika rested her head on his shoulder and started nibbling on her cupcake. "I knew Daryl before the world went ass up and we were just recently reunited. Everyone else I just met."
"And the mad sheriff let you past the gates," Tyreese grumbled, still feeling a little sore over how Rick had tossed them out last time.
"I was unconscious at the time, but my adopted dads told me that he tried to turn us away. Crazy as it may sound, but Merle is the reason he finally let us in. Don't be too hard on Rick, he's been through a lot and he just recently lost his wife. He's the leader of the group and things just started to get a little too much for him and he started cracking. He's doing better now, but he's only human. His number one priority is keeping everyone here safe. He doesn't like turning people away, but him allowing others in have gotten his group killed in the past, including his wife. Once he gets to know you, he'll become fiercely protective of you, too. He's a great guy."
"She's asleep," Sasha said fondly, pointing to Mika. "You're good with her."
"I love kids," Harry smiled. "Have you been with them long?"
Frowning, Sasha shook her head no. "Just a few days. The herd came out of nowhere and sadly their dad was the first bit. We fought for as long as we could, but we ended up grabbing the girls and running."
Looking to Lizzy, Harry saw that she too was sleeping with her head on the table. "They'll be safe here. I'll send my dad out tomorrow to look for clothes for them and we have plenty of food."
"I cleaned a cell for them next to mine," Carol said, joining the group. "We all will help look out for them."
"There's more cells too if you want to stay," Harry offered, he liked Tyreese and Sasha.
Sasha looked to her brother in tears. "We would like that. We're strong, good fighters and can help, just let us know what needs to be done."
"How about right now one of you take this little one and put her to bed," Harry chuckled. "If I'm a minute late for one of Merle's classes he's going to whoop my ass."
Snorting, Tyreese got to his feet. "I got her," he offered. "They haven't had a real bed in months."
"Thanks again for talking Rick into letting us in," Sasha said sincerely.
Smiling, Harry got to his feet and stretched his aching back. "Welcome to the family," he greeted.
***HP
Whimpering, Harry rolled onto his back on the dusty ground and held his hands out to Merle in submission. "Please, I'm done."
"What's wrong with you, princess? Normally you can take a beating and hop right back up onto your feet." Merle held his hand out to the boy and helped him to his feet, his eyebrows drew together in concern when Harry lost his balance and fell into him.
"I'm just tired today and I haven't really eaten," Harry said, looking shyly up at Daryl's brother.
"This isn't about yesterday, is it?"
Shaking his head, Harry stepped out of Merle's arms. "No, but thank you for being there for me and not being a total dick. It was nice getting to know the real Merle that keeps himself hidden behind a steel wall."
"You're such a girl," Merle snorted. "You up for another round or are you tired of getting your ass kicked."
"Tired of getting my ass kicked," Harry grimaced. "My back is aching today, I can't take another hit to it or fall to the ground."
Wagging his eyebrows, Merle winked at the brat. "Maybe you need to have Darylina give it a good external and internal massage."
"I didn't need to hear that from your mouth," Harry groaned. "I think I liked it better when just the thought of your brother and I together made you sick."
"Hey, I'm adapting and growing!" Merle cried.
"Well adapt and grow without talking about sex to me," Harry giggled. "I'm just an innocent little boy."
"You weren't so innocent when I spotted you on your knees blowing my brother in the guard tower the other day."
"What!" Harry choked out, his face turning a scary shade of read.
"Very impressive how you took my brother to the balls without choking."
"You watched!" Harry cried, his facing turning impossibly redder.
"What can I say, I found it hot," Merle said with a shrug to his shoulders. "At least someone is getting some action around here."
Opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water, Harry turned and stormed off towards the prison ignoring Merle's loud laughing. He was tempted to curse the bastard's tongue off, but he was too tired and didn't have the energy. For now on he was only having sex with his mate in their perfectly warded cell.
***HP
Gently carding his fingers through his mate's hair, Daryl leaned in and kissed his sleep slackened lips. There may have been a little drool in the corner, but he didn't let that stop him. "Wake up, sleeping beauty."
Groaning, Harry leaned into the hand that was caressing his temple. "M'sleepy," he mumbled. "G'away."
"I'm not going anywhere," Daryl chuckled. "I haven't seen your beautiful eyes since yesterday. Did you even wake at all today?"
With his eyes still closed, Harry groggily nodded his head yes. "Got my ass kicked a bunch of times by Merle and found me some sisters. Now I'm sleeping. Join me or go away."
Daryl had met the new members, and while he wasn't thrilled that there were four more people, he wouldn't have turned them away either. He was just anxious to get his mate back to his world where he would be safe. "Fine, go back to sleep. I just thought that you would like to know that your dad has returned."
"What!" Harry cried, lunging out of bed and almost smashing his mate in the face with his head. It was a good thing that Daryl had fast reflexes. "Remus is back? You're not playing with me, are you?"
Growling, Daryl pinched his mate's tight little backside. "I would love to play with you," he said huskily, "but Remus did return about ten minutes."
Barreling past his mate, Harry tore out of then cell. Chuckling, Daryl grabbed a shirt for him knowing that he would be embarrassed once it dawned on him that he was shirtless in front of everyone. He was still very self-conscious of his scars.
"Remus!" Harry cried loudly as he recklessly flew down the steps and into the werewolf's arms. "I'm so glad you're back, I missed you so much. Did you see everyone? Is everyone alright? How about Carl and Judith, did they make the trip ok? Where are they staying? Did you see..."
Shaking his head with exasperation, Daryl tugged the shirt over Harry's head and left it there to shut him up. "Take a breath before you pass out, brat."
Chuckling, Remus helped untangle Harry from his shirt. "Everyone back home is going great and the safe zones they have set up are incredible. After introducing Hershel, Beth and the kids to everyone, they decided to stay at the orphanage to help out. Carl immediately took to Fred and George, who are now proclaiming him their new little muggle brother, and Moody and Hershel have also struck up an odd friendship. When I left the pair were sitting at the Three Broomsticks exchanging war stories, showing off their missing limbs, and drinking Butterbeer."
"And Beth," Maggie asked anxiously. "Is she ok?"
"More than ok," Remus snickered. "It seems our favorite, muscled, ginger haired dragon tamer has fallen for the blonde beauty and has taken to following her around everywhere."
"Charlie!" Harry laughed, slipping his arms through the sleeves of his shirt. "That's great, Charlie is the best."
"This Charlie, is he like you, Harry?" Maggie asked in concern.
Still grinning and clinging to Reums' arm, Harry nodded his head yes. "Charlie is so nice and strong, he'll take great care of Beth."
"Judith?" Rick asked, anxious for any word of his children.
"She's fine, Rick," Remus reassured. "Molly Weasley, the woman who sends all the food, has appointed herself Judith's guardian. She has seven kids of her own so she knows what she is doing. She is also Charlie's mom."
"She took me in without knowing me," Harry added. "She treated me no different then her kids. She will spoil Judith."
Rick was relieved to hear that, though he wished that he could be the one taking care of his daughter. He didn't regret sending them ahead of him, the rest of the group was his family too and they needed him, but he couldn't wait to see and hold them again. "They're safe from the dead?"
"Perfectly safe. The kids can run around playing and riding bikes and not have to worry. The wards don't just keep the dead from getting in, but they also keep the kids from wandering out. They have plenty of food, games, clothes, a safe place to sleep and they are even going to school."
"Where is this place?" Sasha asked excitedly. "It sounds too good to be true."
"Oh, we have a lot of explaining to do," Harry said bashfully. It always made him nervous talking about his magic. He really liked Tyreese, Sasha and the girls, he didn't want them to hate him just because of his magic.
"That can come later," Remus said, pulling a small box from his pocket and tapping it with his wand.
"What the hell?" Tyreese cried, stumbling back when the palm size box suddenly grew to the size of a large dresser.
Grabbing his mate, Harry tugged him to the box. "What did they send us good? Did Dumbledore send another portkey?" He would send Mika and Lizzy next even though he wanted to get to know them better.
"Because he had to send me back he was unable to make a return portkey, but he will be sending one as soon as he can."
Harry excitedly dove into the box and started pulling out piles and piles of shrunken food. "Looks like enough to last us six months?"
"That was Mrs. Weasley's plan," Remus chuckled. "There's a few surprises in there for you, too."
Harry let out a whoop of joy when he pulled out what looked like a little stick. Tapping it with his wand, his eyes lit up when when his Firebolt returned to normal size.
"You gonna be cleaning for us, Princess?" Merle snickered.
"This isn't no ordinary broom," Harry explained, sticking his tongue out at Merle. He was still upset over him watching as he gave Daryl a blow job. "This is only the best racing broom on the market."
"Wait, witches and wizards actually fly on brooms?" Glenn asked, bending over with laughter.
"What the hell is going on?" Tyreese cried again.
Eyes sparkling with excitement, Harry turned towards his dad. "You fill the newbies in, I'm going to show Merle and Glenn what the fastest racing broom in the world can do." Without waiting for a response, he turned and raced from the prison.
***HP
Staring at the man in disbelief, Tyreese took off his hat and anxiously rubbed his head. "I can't believe this shit."
Rolling her eyes, Sasha smacked her brother on the arm. "What can't you believe? Really, we have been running from the dead for over a year and you can't accept that magic and witches and wizards are real."
"And you believe it?"
"It's kind of hard not to when Sirius just turned into a dog and back," Sasha chuckled. "Not to mention Harry racing by the windows on a freaking broom."
"Look, we won't harm anyone, but if you can't accept magic then you're going to have to leave. Harry is sensitive when it comes to his magic, he was horribly abused by his relatives because of it. We can offer you a safe place here and back in the Wizarding World, but only if you can accept magic and Harry." Sirius said seriously.
Getting to his feet, Tyreese walked over to a window and watched as Harry carefully flew his broom low to the ground with Mika sitting in front of him. It was surprising how fast the girls took to him. "I know what it's like to be discriminated against, I would never do that to Harry. I just need some time to wrap my head around everything. He's a good kid, I can easily see that."
"It is a lot to process," Sasha admitted, "but we would like to stay here and get to know everyone better. We wouldn't in a million years hurt Harry. He convinced Rick to let us in, fed us, and made those girls smile and laugh again, he's ok in my book...magic and all."
Tyreese nodded his head in agreement. "I'm good, just a bit in shock. It's not everyday that you see a full grown man turn into a dog."
"Well you better get use to it because in a couple days you're going to see three men turn into bloodthirsty werewolves and tear every walker within a five mile radius to shreds," Sirius chuckled. |
As she lay back on the leather sofa with Ryan looking down on her from above, her head spun with what was happening. Everything felt so good and yet she knew how wrong it was. Ryan was touching her face, kissing her lips - his hands were lightly touching her inner thighs, rubbing against her sex...making her crazy with desire.
Duane was upstairs working - she tried to put it out of her head that she was cheating on him - her husband, the father of her children. She had never even looked at another man in all the years they were married and yet now she was kissing another man - a young man, a black man! And he was touching her in ways that no man other than Duane had touched her.
Ryan said, "You're a tiny little thing...my God, you're as light as a feather..."
Lori looked down into his eyes, saying nothing...she reached back and tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ears - waiting, anticipating.
Ryan's touch was electrifying. His hands in her hair, caressing, playfully tugging, kissing her face, her neck, nibbling on her ears.. He felt her hips rising and falling to his touch. While this wasn't the first white wife had been with, it never ceased to amaze him how erotic the transformation with a conservative wife, especially one as sexy as Lori...
Ryan looked deeply in her eyes and saw a look of alarm (?) as his hand slid between her thighs, feeling the heat of that married white pussy within reach of his fingertips. The pad of his index finger grazed the lacy material of her thong and she jumped at his touch. He smiled at her...wanting to tease her - bring her to the point of orgasm but not letting her go over the top.
Lori was looking up at him expectedly... a bit of wonder in her eyes. He reached for the elastic leg of the panty again and pulled it to one side, feeling her shaved mound against his fingertips. Ryan couldn't figure out how to read the white wife's expression....lust? fear? apprehension?
He slide his finger across the slick fold of her pussy- then a second finger...Lori arched her back to his touch, closed her eyes....Ryan ran his fingers up and down the length of her pussy before sliding them up inside her.
Lori moaned at his touch...gasped as he penetrated her sex...Ryan curved his fingers in an upward sweep, finding the roughness of her g-spot and tapped lightly there, causing her to shake - her face bright red.
"Does that feel good, baby?" he asked...
Lori squeezed her eyes shut hard and pursed her lips as he touched her, penetrated her, violated her. She nodded her head and thought to herself that it felt AMAZING. The guilt of her cheating gone....her body was taking over - all pretense of how wrong it was eliminated.
Ryan stroked her pussy - INSIDE her pussy...He knew what she wanted, NEEDED - fuck. Her legs spread widely, allowing him the space for what he wanted to do. She felt slutty and wanton - she was turning into a woman she didn't recognize or would ever dream of being. Instinctively, she reached up and put her arms around his neck.
As she hugged him, Ryan rose up from the couch, pulling her with him - her tiny white body lifted off the sofa as she clung to him, lifting her effortlessly. She felt him reach around her, lowering the zipper to her dress and unhooking her bra. As he lowered her back down to the leather cushions, he slipped the top of her dress down to her waist and removed her bra.
The cool air conditioning hit her nipples making them rock hard - despite being small breasted, her tits were pronounced and erect and Ryan murmured in appreciation. He lowered his mouth to the right breast and took the nipple in between his front teeth and began to nibble gently, tugging on them lightly. With his left hand, he started massaging Lori's other breast, squeezing it and kneading it between his thumb and forefingers.
Lori moaned with pleasure at his touch...She felt the dampness in her inner thighs go from a dewy moisture to a full blown flow of nectar - readying her body for his black cock...
Ryan released the nipple from his teeth and lowered his mouth onto it and began to suckle her breast, feeling the tip in the back of his throat.. he sucked harder and deeper, moving from one breast to the other - Lori groaned at the assault to her body - his thick lips dancing from breast to breast...his tongue lashing out at her nipples while sucking them.
She reached for him...tugging at his belt... struggling to sit up for a better angle even as he was sucking her breasts...she finally pried him off of her and pushed him back onto the sofa. The top of her dress down at her waist, her perk breasts at full attention as she slid down off the couch and knelt between his legs.
Lori looked up at Ryan who was now grinning at her... She smiled and tugged at his belt, opening his pants and reaching down into his underwear. Grasping his black cock, she pulled it loose and out of his boxer briefs. The heavy weight and thickness of it fully in her hand...
She licked the opening at the head lightly causing Ryan to groan. Lori smiled at his obvious distress and ran her tongue from the base of his balls up to the helmeted head on the underside of his shaft...Ryan closed his eyes as she teased him. As her tongue ran the length of him, she caressed his balls gently, massaging them and feeling them rolling back and forth in the palm of her hand.
Truth be told, Lori LOVED sucking cock...It reminded her of her days when she and Duane first met. She didn't do it much lately and she couldn't remember who it didn't happen as much except that she was now a mother but the thrill of it made her damp even thinking about it.
While Duane wasn't small, Ryan's cock was thick and dark and so different - She lowered her mouth over the head and even the tip filled her mouth which surprised her to some extend...taking just the tip, she started sucking in and out, running her tongue over the opening - taking in the musky taste of him. She felt a slight ooze on her tongue as she began going a little deeper.
Ryan thew his head back as she worked to get more and more of his cock deep in her throat. A flashback to a girlfriend of hers who called herself a sword swallower advised her to try to relax her throat and to go slowly when sucking a big man and Ryan certainly fell into this category. He wasn't a porn star, but he was certainly bigger and definitely thicker than what she was used to.
Moving in and out of her mouth, Ryan started rocking his hips up to match her sucking and reached down and grabbed the back of her head to try to entice Lori to suck deeper. As she felt his hand in her hair, she stiffened and her eyes started to water. She realized that Ryan was not the gentle lover that Duane was and panicked a little not knowing if he would force his cock down her throat.
Ryan sensed her abrupt tension and let go of her head and started stroking her hair, which helped her relax. His hand dropped down to Lori's breasts and he started playing with them, twisting the little nipples slightly.
Lori started sucking faster and deeper...she wanted to taste him...she wanted him to release in her mouth and to feel the power that she knew was inside him. As he moaned in pleasure, she took happiness in the fact that she was making him feel so good. She stopped sucking so fast and deliberately and very slowly bent over Ryan's cock and went as deep as she could and then started sliding upward to free his cock, but her teeth scraped over his shaft as she was lifting her head.
Ryan moaned with pleasure, "Fuck, Lori - you're soooo good at that..."
Lori smiled and said, "Give me your cum, Ryan...I want to taste you..."
Ryan started bucking his hips, pulling her head down deeper and harder onto his cock...feeling his balls tightening.. his shaft thickening. He started face fucking her, the palm of his hand tight against the back of her head...physically, roughly...
Lori sucked harder, her hand under her mouth, shucking his black cock, squeezing it, stroking it up and down as her cheeks hollowed out holding his cock firmly inside her mouth.
She heard Ryan growl - it was low and guttural - animalistically...and then he exploded.
Lori felt the rush of hot black cum fill her mouth - her eyes opened wide and she murmured in surprise at the onslaught, swallowing fast and he continued to pump his seed into her mouth and down her throat...
Ryan yelled out as he came...Lori tried to keep up with the flow of cum but choked a little and a dribble came out and ran down her chin coating her lips...
Just as she finished draining his cock, her cell phone buzzed and they both jumped.
It was a text message from Duane:
"Sorry, babe - this was messier than I thought - Smithville had completely lost both their hardware AND the data to restore it. The programmers are working to get everything back up, so there's not a lot I need to do at this point, so we should be finishing up the WebEx soon. Did Ryan leave?"
As Lori was reading the text, Ryan was watching the look of concern on her face. She turned and showed him Duane's text...
He said, "You better get dressed....I don't want him coming down here and seeing you half naked with my cum dripping down your chin like that..."
Lori instinctively reached up to wipe her face as Ryan handed her the bra and helped her get put back together. The dress was somewhat wrinkled but otherwise presentable.
As Ryan got dressed and went to unlock the door, Lori looked at her phone again and then said, "What should I tell him? Are you still here?"
"Tell him we chatted for a while hoping you wouldn't be long but that I need to get going and that we'll catch up another time."
Lori nodded and typed the reply and after sending it, closed her text window. All of a sudden, she saw another icon on the home screen of her phone. It was for the Nanny cam - they had set up a few wireless cameras that worked off their home WiFi around the house to keep an eye on the kids when they were downstairs playing or out back and they were elsewhere in the house.
She absentmindedly activated the program and saw several live windows pop up - the kitchen, the backyard, the driveway and the rec room...it was focused on the sofa - the sofa right where minutes before she had Ryan pushed back and was sucking his black cock...the sofa where he had fingered her and was sucking her breasts...the sofa where less than 15 minutes earlier, she was sitting on his lap kissing him as he ground his cock against her ass... And the same camera where she was dancing with Ryan while her husband sat watching.
Lori felt her heart pounding through her chest. What if Duane got curious about what was happening downstairs while he was working? What if during his conference call, he pulled up a separate screen or even looked on his phone at the same program she just opened herself??
Ryan saw her face redden and the look of sheer terror on his face and asked what was wrong?
Lori turned her phone to show Ryan the program - the cameras, the sofa...
"Do you think he saw us? Do you think he'd look?" she cried....
Ryan stared at the screen for a few seconds and said, "Well if I were your husband and some young black guy was downstairs alone with my wife, yeah, I'd probably be either suspicious or at least curious..."
Lori started hyperventilating and Ryan came over to calm her.
"Lori, what's done is done - he either saw it or he didn't - maybe he was too wrapped up in the problem he was having and too involved in working out a solution, that he didn't have time to be curious!"
Lori nodded and tried to wrap her head around all the possible scenarios... "But what if he did?" she said.
Ryan put his arm around her and said that he if did, they would deal with it at that time. "Just play it cool, Lori - assume he DIDN'T see it...do you want me to wait around for him to come down?"
Lori thought for a minute and said, "No, it's probably better if you go. If it's a problem, it's my problem. Duane isn't violent - we will talk it out..."
Ryan nodded and leaned down and kissed her gently and then headed out through the garage to his car.
Lori cleaned up the rec room and looked around for any evidence of mischief and headed out the door up to their master bedroom. She saw the light to the home office lit and heard Duane talking to the other members of the team on the WebEx. It sounded to her as though the call was ending, so she quickly stripped off her clothing and jumped into the shower.
As the hot water streamed down across her naked body, she felt as though she was trying to wash away her sin of infidelity with it. She scrubbed her skin until it was pink and a bit raw...Overkill perhaps...but it felt like it's what was needed to be done.
As she scrubbed, her pussy ached...needing to be filled...She thought about Ryan's touch, his kisses, his mouth on her breasts...she pulled at her nipples, which only made matters worse...
As she was finishing up, she heard the bathroom door open and Duane urinating in the toilet - Lori peeked out at him and asked how everything went.
Duane sighed and said, "It was a disaster - a fucking disaster - every protocol was ignored, every safety measure overlooked. It's going to take them weeks to get everything restored. All our hard work over the past year ruined. I'm so pissed off right now, Lor....And I'm afraid this is going to fall back on me...!"
Lori stepped out of the shower and wrapped the towel around her body, and walked over to comfort her husband. She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him - A part of herself hated who she was - his touch was so different, she had betrayed him, something inside her had changed. If he knew about it, EVERYTHING would be different. Did she just ruin her life? What would happen to her marriage? Her kids?
Lori spoke quietly to Duane...he clearly was distraught - his mind elsewhere. A part of her felt so badly for him but the more they talked, the more convinced she was that she had dodged the bullet - that he DIDN'T have time to look at the cameras. A part of her was so relieved and yet, she felt so horrible for what happened to Duane and his hard work.
She wasn't a religious person, but she felt as though she was given a second chance with Duane's misfortune. She chided herself for giving into her lust and vowed not to let it go any further or happen again. After Duane fell into a fitful sleep, Lori laid awake staring at the ceiling thinking about that night.
And as she lay there, her mind went back to the events of the evening...the wonderful dinner with her loving husband, the lost clutch, Ryan showing up, Duane's unusual comment about how he was okay with the flirting and that he took it as a compliment that another man found his wife hot.
She thought about dancing with Ryan...his touch, the way he felt - his kisses!!
She thought about his mouth on her breasts, his fingers inside her - that amazing black cock of his...How he tasted to her.
Lori groaned - "God, this was NOT the way to make this go away..." she thought to herself. She felt her pussy ache...tried to ignore it...she kept her hands down by her sides as if trying to will her body into listening to her...
But then, as Duane snored beside her, she felt her fingers slide up under her nightshirt and as she played with her nipples, tugging on them, squeezing them, touching them, she thought about Ryan's mouth again....that wonderful, seductive tongue of his sucking her and licking and nibbling on her breasts...
She felt herself getting damp and groaned again - she put her hands on her knees as if to settle the shaking in her legs but soon found herself slowly sliding up her inner thighs, imitating Ryan's touch earlier that evening...
It only took about a minute of lightly grazing her fingers across her folds for her to cum..She cried out - shocked at how quickly and how intense the orgasm happened - as she lay there recovering from the feeling, she wondered how much better his tongue would be...or how his cock would feel inside her, filling her, stretching her, cumming inside her?
Her imagination now running wild, she thought about seeing him again...feeling his touch...she slid two fingers up inside herself again and twisted her nipple HARD with the other hand, her eyes shut imaging him there...doing all that to her... And that quickly, she came again, crying out in the night loudly enough to wake Duane out of a dead sleep.
"Are you okay, honey?" he asked.
Lori sighed and told him she had a bad dream but that she was okay. It was enough for Duane to hear and he rolled over and went back to snoring.
Despite two incredible orgasms, Lori had a pretty sleepless night. Since it was Saturday, Duane slept in and Lori got up to make coffee. She opened her laptop and checked email. There was an email from Ryan asking if she were okay and what she knew about Duane and the cameras.
"Dear sweet boy" she thought to herself - "You have no idea the affect you have on me, do you?"
She responded, "Duane didn't mention anything about the cameras and I didn't either. I'm thinking he didn't see us - he was very upset about what happened with his work and I think that occupied his entire night. He didn't even ask about you. He's still in bed sleeping."
Ryan must have been waiting for her reply because he answered almost immediately:
"Wow...that's good news....! :) I've got to tell you that I went home and thought about you all night...Lori, you taste so amazing and I adore your breasts! God, I could suck on them all night! And you kiss like an angel!"
Lori felt her pussy tingle as she was reading. Her hand went to her throat instinctively at his words...she continued reading...
"I want to find a way for us to get together...for you to come to my place...I want you to dress sexy for me and come over and let me undress you or you undress yourself while I watch....I want to taste that sweet little white married pussy of yours and to bury my black cock deep inside you bareback...Can we make that happen?"
And then to add to it, Ryan enclosed a picture of his hard black cock for her to see...
Lori gasped - her resolve destroyed...She was still looking at the picture and didn't hear Duane come into the kitchen. Thankfully, she was facing him so he didn't see anything on the laptop...She quickly closed the lid and asked him if he wanted coffee...
Duane asked her why she shut down her laptop so abruptly and she said that is birthday was coming up and she didn't want to ruin his surprise gift.
He laughed..."I'm getting a little old for surprise birthday gifts, aren't I? I appreciate it but you don't have to go to a lot of trouble for me..."
Lori felt her face burning as she asked him again if he wanted coffee. As she got up, she noticed her panty bottoms were wet and tugged on her night shirt to try to cover up.
Duane was already talking about the problem at Smithfield and his possible solution but Lori's mind was elsewhere. She heard about every third word as she wondered if it were possible to meet Ryan...How it would happen? If it would happen? She felt like that cartoon where the character has the devil on one shoulder and the angel on the other...
|
This is the problem with Steve Rogers currently being - as several people have so eloquently put it - “itty bitty adorable.” Tony started it. Pepper sealed the deal. Natasha approved. Rhodey phoned in to tell them that #ittybittyCapAdorable was trending. Sam promptly died laughing. Bruce joined in the act. Thor was confused, per usual, but was silently protective of Steve. To Thor, Steve’s temporary status “did not diminish him in strength or courage.” And then Thor said something about Steve being “the uncrowned King” and that Steve would always have the friendship and allegiance of Thor, which kind of had all these weird Middle-earth-y undertones to it and nobody wanted to think about it too much. Jane sheepishly showed them her Tumblr dashboard where she was tracking the tag. Darcy dragged Steve off for a quick shopping expedition for his temporary wardrobe, since he wasn’t about to start borrowing from Tony’s closet (Tony predictably hollered that he was not that short, thank you very much). Said shopping expedition caused even more pictures to get out and for Tumblr to shut down — again. Somewhere in the depths of the Tumblr offices, staff was offering prayers to the Old Ones in protection against Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Bucky Bears and those two dudes named Sebastian Stan and Anthony Mackie who were apparently causing an epic Squee Apocalypse at some comic convention. All of them were notorious for crashing Tumblr these days. But we digress. The world still needed saving. Steve Rogers still led the Avengers. Even if he happened to be all of five foot odd adorable and ninety — (Bucky, I’m a hundred and ten, for Chrissakes) pounds soaking wet. Even if he was already doing a commendable job of running ops behind the scenes. Coulson had tears in his eyes, by the way. Agents had remarked that Steve’s style was remarkably like Coulson’s - calm, cool, collected and infinitely reassuring. But Bucky could see the strain in Steve’s eyes, even as he tried to curb every impulse that wanted to scoop Steve up, find some nice deserted tropical island and shoot at anyone who tried to get close. Steve absolutely hated being useless - even if what he was currently doing was anything but. So when Natasha said she needed bait for an op she was running, Steve was happy to jump in. Getting rid of the red in her ledger, she said. Also, the guys she was trying to take down apparently had ties to the Red Room’s Winter Soldier program and HYDRA. Of course Steve wanted in. "So why didn’t she ask you?" Bucky grumbles at Clint, who is, in all fairness, Nat’s usual partner in crime for things like these. "My ass looks fat in the dress Nat wanted me to wear," Clint shrugs. Dress. What. Because Life, Fate or the Giggling Clouds of Doom apparently have it in for him (seriously, why was he being blamed for the Sebastian Stan Incident That Crashed Tumblr, he didn’t even KNOW the guy), Bucky turns around to find Steven Grant Rogers in — He was going to kill Natalia for this. Ever since she heard about the “Steve in a Dress” story, she’s never been able to let it go. And okay, Bucky knows drag - he and Steve had drag queens for neighbors way back when and Ms. Vida Boheme ruled the fifth floor at Bag End Apartment and was often a safe haven for “young queens finding their way to utter fabulousness.” However, Steve isn’t dressed for a drag show, which, of course, demanded a certain level of theatricality. He looks beautiful, elegant and this is what going to set Bucky’s teeth on edge - he looks sweetly innocent as well. Perfect bait. Steve glides forward on his heels and - shit, how could he have ever forgotten that walking in heels was a hidden Steve Rogers talent, all thanks to Jilly, may that lady rest in peace - runs a hand up his abs to his chest and says, in a throaty voice, “Like what you see, soldier?”"What I’m seeing is a punk in a dress," Bucky manages through a suddenly dry mouth. He cupped the back of Steve’s head, because he wanted, so very, very badly — Nat’s voice cuts through Clint’s outraged squawking. “Don’t mess him up just yet, Yasha. We still need to get through the op first.”"I want in," Bucky growls. Nat rolls her eyes at him but yeah, apparently he gets to come along. Their target apparently had a yen for pretty boys in dresses, which was why Steve ended up being dragged into this. What they didn’t expect was that the target had fangs. Natasha swears something particularly filthy in Russian, moving in to extract Steve and Bucky is already lining the asshole in his sights, finger on the trigger, because the sight of Steve on his back with a hungry vampire about to rip his throat out isn’t going to fucking happen while Bucky has anything to say about it. But then Steve somehow manages to flip the asshole over and brains him with a heavy crystal ashtray. It doesn’t keep the guy down for long but it does take him out of Bucky’s line of sight for a few terrifying moments. Steve doesn’t hesitate. He grabs a wooden chair, introduces it to the Vampire’s gut, moving as fast and as strongly as he’d ever done when he’d been a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier and — Bucky has the shot. He takes it. The vampire’s head explodes just as Steve manages to ram that chair leg into the guy’s heart. All things considered, the op is a definite success. ***Apparently, the Serum was beginning to kick back in for Steve Rogers. The strength and the speed are definitely back, the healing factor is catching up and Steve’s Captain America build and height aren’t going to be far behind. Steve had at least known he could function within normal human parameters when he’d said yes to Natasha’s op - they’d all noticed that part over the past week or so. He didn’t expect he’d get that extra boost when push came to shove though. But then, as Steve had quietly whispered into Bucky’s ear when they’d finally had a moment to themselves, he wasn’t about to let some bloodsucker take him like that. "Not when I’m yours," Steve murmurs between soft kisses to Bucky’s jawline, the corner of his mouth, a brief, teasing nibble to his lower lip. Bucky manages to deepen the kiss and it won’t be long until he’ll sink his fangs into Steve’s sweet flesh, stake a claim and be claimed himself. It doesn’t hurt, Steve tells him - it never hurts when Bucky needs him like this, which is less about feeding and more about being being his mate. His own. Yours, Bucky will tell him then. He’s still not going to be letting Steve out of his sight for the next twenty four hours or so. But judging from the mischief in Steve’s eyes, who actually hadn’t protested when Bucky had literally carried him off after the debriefing was over, still in his dress and heels, he figured Steve wasn’t going to mind one bit. Bucky does send Natasha her favorite Russian tea as a thank you gift later. A lot later. - end - |
Carlos was awakened suddenly to the feeling of something settling across his torso. At first he thought nothing of it; sometimes one of his father's little Corgis strayed from his bed and decided to nestle down Carlos, but then he felt as though a looming presence had settled over him, pulling him insistently from sleep. He groaned, and suddenly, a hand shot out and clamped down over his mouth. Carlos's eyes shot open, his heart beating nearly out of his chest, and he fought to tear his mouth away from the hand against it as he blindly groped for the knife he slept with at his side, finally finding the handle, and clenching it. Another hand came and grabbed hold of his wrist, effectively pinning him to the mattress, rendering him immobile. He continued to try and scream. "Shhhh, Carlos, it’s me!" A voice shushed him. A very familiar voice. "Please don't scream! The guards will hear you!" Carlos stopped still, and his hand released the dagger immediately, and it clattered to the floorboards. The hand was pulled away from his mouth, and Carlos blinked to find Cecil leaning above him, straddling his hips. His blue eyes were wide, with a mischievous spark shining in them, and he smiled nervously. "What are you doing here?!" Carlos hissed in the dark, pressing a hand to his forehead. "I could have killed you." "I'm sorry," Cecil apologized. "I just, um...your castle is dark, and quiet, and I, ah..." He faltered, dropping his gaze. He picked at the edges of the bandages around his wrists and bit his lip. "Cecil," Carlos whispered, bringing a hand up to Cecil's side. "Were you anxious?" "I'm not usually!" Cecil insisted. "It's just...I had a, um...mild sleep disturbance." "Are you prone to those?" "I was as a child," Cecil confessed. "Less so in my adult years. But sometimes, yes, I still experience them, usually when I find myself in unfamiliar sleeping quarters." He looked so meek and so unlike the regal prince Carlos knew he was capable of being that Carlos couldn't help but feel sorry for the man. Silently he lifted the corner of his sheets, and tilted his head to the side. "Here." He said. "You can lay with me, until you're no longer afraid." Cecil's face brightened, and he scrambled from Carlos's lap and under the covers. He stretched out beside Carlos, facing him, but not touching him. Carlos tucked the blankets around him. "Okay?" Cecil nodded. "So what do these night terrors usually consist of?" Carlos asked, reaching out a hand to smooth back a lock of Cecil's blond hair. Cecil blushed furiously at the gesture. "They are never quite the same." Cecil explained. "Sometimes I dream of a dark planet, lit by no sun. Sometimes I dream of two men, one who is not short, and one who is not tall, and they are ominous and foreboding. And sometimes, I dream of people I know." "Oh?" Cecil nodded. "Sometimes they are people I have known since my childhood, like my mother, or my cousins Shawn, and my childhood best friend, Earl." "And of me?" Cecil's blush deepened, and Carlos grinned. "Sometimes, yes, I dream of you." Cecil admitted. "Sometimes I dream of our time in the library, or other times I dream of encounters that have never happened. But sometimes...sometimes I dream of you driving a knife through my heart, or a sword into my gut, and, I..." He faltered, trailing off, and Carlos reached out a hand to lightly touch his cheek. "I do not now nor will I ever have the desire to harm you, Cecil." He promised. "I know." Cecil smiled, leaning into the touch. "But that does not mean the terrors are evasive in their visitations. Nor does it mean that they are not horrifying." "I would never harm you." Carlos moved his hand from Cecil's cheek to cup the shell of Cecil's ear and jaw. "I have grown rather fond of you as of late, I'm afraid." "Have you now?" Cecil was beaming, but he ducked his head to try and hide his embarrassment, something Carlos thought endearing. "Mmm." Carlos hummed, itching closer to the other prince. Cecil's blue eyes met his, and he pulled his face towards him, and pressed his lips to Cecil's. The Noctis prince returned it, pressing himself closer to Carlos as a hand stole into his hair. Carlos ran his tongue on Cecil's lower lip, asking permission, and Cecil complied, allowing Carlos to slip inside. Cecil moaned as Carlos did so, and Carlos slipped his hand up Cecil's shirt, splaying his fingers across his abdomen, and relishing in the shiver it produced from the other man. Never breaking contact, Cecil rolled himself on top of Carlos, and Carlos moaned against the other's mouth as their hips aligned. Cecil became more daring, flicking his tongue into Carlos's mouth to explore, while Carlos's hand trailed down Cecil's spine, counting each vertebra as he traveled lower, settling at Cecil's hips. Cecil pulled away to peer down at him, one hand on either side of Carlos's head, his blue eyes half lidded with lust. Carlos brought a hand to cradle the back of his head, rubbing lazy circles into his neck with his thumb. "Still fond of me?" Cecil whispered, that velvet voice thick with unhidden desire. "Even more so now than I was earlier," Carlos whispered back. "But I assure you, less so than I will tomorrow." Cecil's lips found his once more, feverishly, desperately, as though e were trying to taste as much of Carlos as possible in the shortest amount of time. Carlos felt himself begin to respond as he returned the kiss, heat sparking from Cecil's skin into his as he ran his hands across the planes of Cecil's shoulders and the small of his back, digging his nails into the other man and gazing them lightly downwards, reveling in the sounds - caught between a hiss and a moan - it elicited from Cecil above him. Cecil pulled away from him just long enough to pull his sleep shirt from his body, letting it drop off the side of the bed, before he returned his lips to Carlos's body, trailing from his sternum to suck at his throat as he rocked his hips. Carlos gasped as he felt the aching bulge rapidly growing in his pants brush against the one in Cecil's. Cecil pawed at the waistband of his sleeping pants, and Carlos lifted his pelvis just enough so Cecil could tug them down past his knees. Carlos quickly ridded himself of his own sleeping shirt as Cecil shimmied out of his pants, the articles of clothing joining the others on the floor. Cecil bent over Carlos carefully, still rocking his hips against the Vailian prince, and Carlos groaned at the sweet pressure that was just beginning to niggle in his abdomen as their erections brushed against each other. He grasped at Cecil's shoulders, already out of breath and panting. Oh, how he craved this, from the moment they had parted in Coronis! He craned his head to mouth at the symbol on Cecil's chest, sucking a bruise onto his pale skin there until Cecil ducked to catch him in another kiss as his fingers stroked over Carlos's abdomen, making him shiver. "Trust me?" Cecil whispered against his lips, his blue eyes meeting Carlos's. "Always." Cecil kissed him again, but began to slowly make his way downwards, peppering teasing presses across the taut brown skin of his chest, flicking his tongue against the other's nipples. Carlos felt sparks of pleasure streak through his body at the contact as Cecil grazed his teeth against them gently, and he moaned at the sensation of weightlessness it settled in his stomach. Cecil ran his tongue over the lined muscles of his pelvis, pausing just above his aching cock, before he glanced up at Carlos expectantly. "Still trust me?" He asked, and his breath tickled against the sensitive skin. "Yes." Carlos nodded, his hands finding their way into Cecil's blond hair. "Yes, please." Cecil's tongue flattened against the head as he took Carlos into his mouth, agonizingly slow, his eyes still on Carlos's face. Carlos threw his head back, his back arching in pleasure, as Cecil hummed around him. He grasped at the sheets of the bed with one hand, while the other involuntarily clenched at Cecil's hair, and Cecil moaned at the action. "God, Cecil, yes!" He gasped as Cecil bobbed downwards, running his tongue on the underside of his shaft. He released his grip on Cecil's hair, running his fingers through his soft strands gently as Cecil continued to tongue at him, his head thrown back, his eyes screwed closed. He raised his hips, thrusting into Cecil's mouth, and Cecil placed a hand on his hipbone to keep him down as he bobbed his head, taking Carlos as far as he could go. The swelling feeling in his abdomen was spreading, and Carlos knew that if Cecil continued - yes, doing that! - he was going to come, much sooner before later. In the back of his mind he wondered how Cecil was so good at this, but the thoughts were banished with another flick of Cecil's tongue, lost to a chasm of pleasure and euphoria. "Cecil," he moaned. He was so close-- Abruptly, as though he could read Carlos's mind, Cecil pulled away. Carlos whined in a way that he would have found undignified in any other context; he was a prince, for goodness sakes! "Why'd you stop?" He questioned, lifting his head to peer at Cecil. The other prince smirked and licked his lips, which was almost obscene with the filthy look in his eyes. "I want this to last," Cecil explained, that honeyed voice slightly husky with want as he nipped at Carlos's thighs teasingly. "Noctis, I swear you're out to kill me." Carlos groaned, his head falling back into the mattress. "Not kill you," Cecil promised as he licked a stripe up Carlos's cock. "Just tease you a bit, drive you as mad as you drive me. A taste of your own medicine, if you will." "Tastes awful," Carlos muttered under his breath. Cecil chuckled. "I find it to taste rather sweet." Carlos laughed. "You ass," he said. "Mmmm," Cecil agreed. A hand slowly made it way from Carlos's hipbone to his ass, and brushed against the cleft of his opening. "Maybe." He reached down on the side of the bed and groped for a moment before producing a small bottle with a green substance inside. Carlos raised an eyebrow. "Olive oil?" Cecil hummed in response as he dabbed a dot of the substance on his fingers, before he returned to prodding gently at Carlos's entrance once more. Carlos gasped as the cooler oil made contact with his flushed skin, and again as Cecil slowly slid in a finger, then two, stretching and gliding in and out rhythmically. Carlos moaned, feeling the niggling return to his stomach. He clutched again at Cecil's hair, gurgling for air as Cecil's fingers found the spot inside of him, sending red hot flames through his entire body all at once, and he jerked against Cecil's fingers. "Oh, god, Cecil," he managed. "You are truly beautiful like this," Cecil murmured as he nipped Carlos's earlobe. "You once told me that I would look wonderful against the sheets of your bed, but I assure you, you look even more stunning." Carlos kissed him, sloppily, and he nearly missed, his fingers curling against Cecil's scalp. The man above him have an appreciative hum against his lips, then mouthed at the junction where the jaw and ear met. "Do you want to?" Cecil whispered. "Please," he begged breathlessly. "Please, Cecil." Cecil kissed him one more time before he once more aligned their hips, and Carlos spread his legs a big wider to accommodate Cecil between them. Cecil dabbed another few drops of olive oil onto the head of his cock, making sure it was well slicked before he very gently prodded at Carlos's entrance, slowly pushing inwards. Carlos gasped and blindly groped for Cecil's hand at his hip, and Cecil took it, slotting their fingers together. "Carlos?" Cecil paused. "If I'm hurting you, we can s-stop." "N-no!" Carlos hissed. "No! I'm okay. Please don't stop." Cecil squeezed Carlos's hand reassuringly. "If it’s too much, I'll stop." He promised. He slid forward a bit more, and Carlos's grip on his hand tightened. "God, Cecil," he moaned as Cecil finally came to a stop, the head of his dick just brushing that sweet spot. "Oh..." "Carlos," Cecil groaned as he positioned himself in his knees above Carlos, still holding his hand. "Gods above, Carlos..." "C-Cecil," Carlos gasped as Cecil thrust into him gently, throwing his head back, his back arching. "Oh god...do that again." "This?" Cecil whispered huskily as he leant over to brush his lips to the shell of Carlos's ear. He bucked his hips forward, eliciting a cry from Carlos below him. "Yes," Carlos garbled. "Yes, Cecil, like that!" Cecil let go of Carlos's hand after he pressed a kiss to it and held himself up with a hand on either side of Carlos's head, and slowly pulled himself out of the other prince before he slowly plunged back in, grunting softly as he did so. Carlos could already feel the niggling in his stomach heightening, punching so pleasantly, as Cecil sped up his thrusts. Soft moans filled the room, throaty and low, and it took Carlos's hazed mind a moment to recognize that half of them were his as Cecil began to suck at his jugular while he thrust, his tongue soothing the dark skin as his teeth scraped there. His mouth met the point just below his jaw, and Carlos jerked, his mind reeling, and he could feel the smile on Cecil's face as he licked and sucked at that one spot, all the while his cock brushed the sensitive walls inside of Carlos tantalizingly. Now this was not something he had ever expected. This was heaven and hell all at once. "Cecil," he moaned. "Cecil, please, I'm--" "Shhh, I've got you." Cecil soothed as he nipped at Carlos's neck one more time, before he pressed his forehead to Carlos's. His blue eyes never left Carlos's face as he slipped his hand between them, and palmed at Carlos's aching erection. What had he fallen to? Here he was, a future king, laid out and completely vulnerable beneath the grounding weight of an enemy prince. He reached out and grasped Cecil's hips as the other man snapped them forward again, and another wave of pleasure washed over him. Carlos had never felt so vulnerable in his life, had never allowed himself to be, and yet, he hardly cared. He opened his eyes and kept a steady gaze on Cecil's face, their foreheads still touching, one hand on the back of Cecil's head, drawing him in, as Cecil took hold of his cock in his long fingers and stroked him, still thrusting readily into him, each time hitting that particular spot and sending Carlos deeper and deeper into the pit of pleasure, and driving him closer to the point of no return. "Cecil," he breathed, "Cecil, I'm close..." "Do it, then." Cecil gasped as he thrust again, panting heavily. "Do it." A few more clever flicks of his wrist and another deep trust inwards, and Carlos came, explosively, all over his and Cecil's stomachs, his back arching high off the mattress as he rode the shocks of bliss as they coursed through his entire body, making his fists curl into the sheets of the bed and Cecil's blond hair. Cecil bent down and crashed their lips together, his tongue in Carlos's mouth as he thrust twice, three, four more times, and gave a high-pitched moan against Carlos as he, too, came, buried deep inside the Valian prince, the two of them almost perfectly timed. After a moment, they parted, heaving for breath, their hair sticking to their foreheads as sweat poured down their naked bodies, and gazed at each other through half lidded eyes as Cecil very gently slid out of Carlos, and promptly collapsed against his chest. They laid there, not saying anything for several moments as they struggled to find their breath, Carlos gently running his fingers through Cecil's hair, Cecil's cheek pressed against his sternum. He wrapped his other arm around Cecil, holding him close, loving the way he felt there, skin to skin against on top of his chest like that. "I think," Cecil said after a moment, still breathing heavily. "That that was the most exhilarating one yet." "I agree." Carlos chuckled, pushing back the errant curls that had fallen in his eyes. Cecil looked at Carlos, resting his chin on the back if his folded hands, smiling sleepily. Carlos swept his hand through the sweaty blond strands at his temple. "You should get some sleep." Carlos said. "Mmmm," Cecil agreed. "But you're warm." Carlos chuckled. "Come on, you have to get dressed." He urged, skidding his hands down Cecil's sides. Cecil sighed. "Fine." He consented. He pushed himself away from Carlos and pulled back the covers. As Carlos himself shimmied back into his clothing, he couldn’t resist sneaking a peek at Cecil's bare ass as he pulled up his pants. He slid back into the bed and under the (now slightly mussed; he'd have one of the chambermaids change his sheets on the morning) covers, and sighed contentedly. He was still warm, his entire body tingling with the afterglow of orgasm, and the sheets felt soft and fine against the cooling sweat on his skin. Cecil fiddled with his sleeping shirt for a moment as he looked down at his hands, standing at the edge of the bed cautiously. "Carlos," he said, slowly. "Can I stay with you tonight?" Carlos frowned. "Cecil, if anyone saw you leaving in the morning..." "No one will see me!" Cecil insisted. "I'll leave before first light! I promise!" "Cecil," Carlos said, sitting up. "It's not that I don't want you to stay, because even when we...when we had sex in the library, all I wanted was to lay there with you and sleep. But it's horribly risky. I don't want..." "I understand." Cecil interjected. "You don't want people knowing you're sleeping with the enemy." The hurt was so evident in his voice it made Carlos's heart break. Without putting on his shirt, Cecil turned away from him. "I'll just go." Carlos didn't think; he lunged across the bed and grabbed hold of Cecil's wrist. "Cecil, wait!" Cecil turned his head to look at him, and Carlos could see the tears in his eyes. It broke Carlos's heart further, and he held on a little tighter. "What?" Cecil's voice was small. "Don't go." Carlos said. "Please don't go." Cecil hesitated, but he slowly sat back down on the edge of the bed. "I'm not ashamed of you, Cecil." Carlos whispered. "I'm just..." He sighed. "I've had trysts before. Never with a man, though in Vail it is not unheard of. But when I have, in the past...it's always been with one of the help, a maid or a kitchen girl, so it was never really anything but sex. But with you..." He sighed. "I don't want people to think it’s just sex, that I'm only pursuing this treaty so I have a free pass at you whenever I feel like it, because its more than that. I want our lands to prosper, to stop warring with one another, and I want us to be able to be together without anyone thinking that it is nothing more than seduction at its finest." He reached out and placed a hand on Cecil's tattoo, felling his heart beating against his palm. "I don't want people to judge you, to think that this is only a ploy on your part because you're the prince of Noctis. I want them to see that you're truly wonderful, and not deceitful, or harboring ulterior motives. Do you understand?" Cecil sniffed, and nodded. "I understand." He said. Carlos smiled. He leaned over and kissed Cecil on his forehead between his eyes. "Stay?" He whispered. Cecil nodded, eagerly, and Carlos pulled back the covers, inviting the other prince inside once more. Cecil slid in beside him, nestling in close as Carlos covered them both. "So tell me." Carlos said after a moment, wrapping his arms around Cecil and pulling him close. "You know of my past encounters. What of you? Have you any former lovers to tell?" Cecil grinned slyly. "Jealous, Prince Carlos?" "No. I am merely curious, that's all." "Well, yes, there have been a few, in the past, but unlike you, mine have always been with men. No one in particular. I had a standing affair with my valet once." Carlos raised an eyebrow. "A valet, eh?" Cecil shrugged. "It was short lived." he said. "Honestly I am not entirely sure what became of him."
“Hmmmm.” Carlos hummed, his eyes growing more and more heavy as he settled into the soft weight of his mattress, with Cecil’s skin brushing his. He brushed his knuckles across Cecil’s cheekbone. “We should sleep.”
“Do you mean that you would like me to stay the night?” Cecil asked softly.
“If you want,” Carlos yawned and closed his eyes. “Just…be careful when you leave in the morning.”
“I will.” Cecil promised. He paused. “Carlos?”
“Hmm?”
“Can I…touch you?”
“Mmmm. Please do.”
The last thing Carlos was aware of before sleep took him was the settling weight of Cecil’s back to his chest, and the beating of his heart beneath Carlos’s palm. -----
The next morning, Carlos awoke slowly as the light of the early morning sun filtered gently through his bedroom window, casting a haloed glow over everything it touched. He yawned and rolled over, where he found Cecil still slumbering peacefully in the bed next to him, his blond hair disheveled, his face serene. Carlos smiled as he brushed his fingertips over Cecil’s brow.
Cecil frowned as he did so, groaning as he swatted at Carlos’s hand as though it were a fly. Carlos chuckled as he leaned over and brushed his lips across the lines between Cecil’s eyes.
“Cecil.” He whispered. “Cecil, wake up.”
“No.” Cecil grumbled sleepily. “Still tired. No.”
“Come on, Cecil,” Carlos pushed at his shoulder. “You promised you’d be gone by sunrise so no one would see you. It’s past sunrise.”
Cecil groaned, and sat up, glaring. Carlos chuckled.
“Good morning, Prince Cecil.” He said playfully.
“If a morning may be considered ‘good,’ then I extend the greeting to you as well, Prince Carlos.” Cecil said back, cracking a small smile. His blond hair was sticking up at odd angles, and Carlos smiled softly as he smoothed down the patches gently. Cecil hummed and leaned into the touch.
Just as he was leaning towards the other prince to kiss him, the sound of footsteps thundering down the hallway outside his bedroom door caused him to jump back in alarm as the footsteps drew closer.
“Under the blankets!” He said to Cecil, lifting the edge of the sheets. “Quickly!”
Cecil did as he was instructed, diving under the sheets, and held perfectly still. Carlos smoothed the blankets, and haphazardly threw some pillows over the lump that was the other man to aid in the illusion of a restless night of sleep.
“Carlos!” He heard a familiar voice ring out from beyond his bedroom door, and Carlos felt his blood run cold.
His father, the King of Vail.
Carlos felt his vision spin. His father was not due back for another week yet! What was he doing home so soon?!
The King burst into his son’s room, his stern face set with determination, his long black hair tied at the nape of his neck with a red ribbon. He eyed his son stoically.
“It is past sunrise, and you have yet to rouse?!” He demanded. “Is this what you do whilst I am away? Sleep the day away until it is convenient for you to rise and lead? A king is up with the dawn!”
“Sorry, Father.” Carlos apologized, trying to feign solidarity as he rubbed at his eyes, and ran a hand through his unruly curls, even yawning for theatrical effect. “I did not sleep well last night.”
His father raised an eyebrow. “And why would that b—”
At that moment, as Carlos stretched out his feet, the sole of his left foot collided with Cecil’s calf. The other man sucked in a breath at the startling chill of Carlos’s cool flesh against his, involuntarily reacting. Carlos looked, horrified, at his father.
“Father, I can explain!” He started, but it was too late. His father had already grabbed the edge of the blanket and yanked it back and off of Carlos, completely exposing Cecil. Cecil bit his lip and looked up at the King, drawing his legs closer to his body.
Carlos saw his father's gaze rove over Cecil, his eyes piercing and cold as he caught sight of the eye of Noctis over his heart. Carlos saw Cecil follow his father's gaze, and he looked back, his blue eyes wide and more frightened than Carlos had ever seen them as the King pulled a dagger seemingly out of nowhere at a blink's pace, and grabbed the Noctis prince by the hair, yanking him off the bed and away from Carlos. He slammed him against the wall by the neck and held the knife to his throat as Cecil whimpered in pain, his head colliding with a crack against the stone. "Noctis," the King growled menacingly low. "You seem to be far from the pitiful lands you call your kingdom, and in the bed of my son and heir, with little more than your sleeping trousers on. Do you care to speak freely, or shall my dagger loosen your tongue?" Cecil gave an estranged gasp as the dagger pressed harder against his throat, drawing a thin line of blood, running down his neck in tiny rivulets.
Carlos felt his heart stop, his blood chilling to a sudden still, as he watched Cecil struggle for breath, the life slowly leaving him as his father pressed harder with the dagger. More blood welled around the blade, and Cecil’s blue eyes flicked towards him, silently pleading him to help, and he clutched at the King’s wrists, trying desperately to breathe.
"Father!" Carlos restrained himself from screaming, despite the blind panic rising in his chest, and he scrambled from the bed to put a hand on the King's shoulder. "Father, don't hurt him! Please!" "He spoke of peace in Coronis, but now I see what his plan truly was," the King snarled, not releasing Cecil. "Sneak into our lands and seduce you, my heir, and then murder you as you slept. You are a fool! You would be dead, allowing this man into your bed, had I not intervened!" "Please!" Carlos pulled at his father's shoulder, but the King was unaffected as he tightened his grip on Cecil's jugular, and the prince choked, his fingers clawing uselessly at the King's hands still. His eyes were beginning to roll back in his head, his lips beginning to tinge blue. "Stop it!" Carlos wretched himself between his father and Cecil. The King released Cecil in surprise, and Cecil sputtered, gasping for air, coughing as his hands came to his bleeding throat. Carlos placed himself firmly in front of the Noctis prince, backing up so that his hands were splayed out against the wall on either side of the other prince, ensuring that there was no space between him and Cecil that his father could use as leverage. Cecil grasped at his sleep shirt, balling it into his fist, still heaving for breath, his forehead pressed between his shoulder blades. Carlos could feel the gasps for air as he leaned against him, trembling violently. "Move, boy," the King growled. "Or you'll lose your scalp along the way." "He means me no harm!" Carlos said firmly. "He is here in peace, albeit a few weeks early, and he has done no wrong!" "He has tainted your mind with his Noctis lies!" The King spat. "Move! And I'll finish what you are too weak to!" "I am not weak!" Carlos's face contorted with rage. "I am a king! A king does not stand down when those who need him lie at his back!" "You are not a king yet! You are an impetuous, impulsive boy that allows his enemy to persuade him with pretty little words and promises of peace! That allows his enemy into his bed for a midnight fuck!" The King held the dagger close to his son's face. "Now move, boy, before I leave my kingdom with no heir!" "Do it then!" Carlos felt Cecil's breath hitch, his hand fisting tighter into Carlos's shirt, and he shook his head against his back. “If you wish to harm him, you will not do so without going through me." His father lashed out in fury, pressing the dagger to his son's neck, just below his chin. Carlos swallowed, but he did not waver as he glared at his father. He could feel Cecil’s blood smearing against his skin, and he pressed closer against the man behind him. "You would throw it all away, throw away your kingdom, and for what?! For a tryst with this Noctis scum?! This pathetic excuse for a prince?!" He demanded, and Carlos heard Cecil whimper. "Is he worth your life, boy?!" "Yes." Carlos said evenly. "And you would throw away your kingdom's chance for peace, for prosperity, in the name of a petty resentment? Without giving this man a chance to defend himself, to speak of his own?" "He is Noctis! He is not worth your protection, and neither is his land!" "He is of Noctis, but does this make him less of a man? He has bested me in more ways than one, Father, and I deem him worthy of my respect, and my protection." "You are young and know not of what you speak! He is a liar, a murderous heathen sent from hell itself to betray you!" "You're wrong!" Carlos, with the knife still at his throat, reached back a hand to place it on Cecil's trembling body, anchoring him, reassuring him, and he felt Cecil relax slightly beneath his touch. "He is good, and kind, and far more intelligent than you have ever given him credit for! He would not lead me astray, nor would he ever intend me any harm or ill will! I will not stand aside and allow you to kill him!” "His kingdom took your brother! Murdered him in cold blood!" "Cecil had nothing to do with my brother's death! He was not the one that killed him, and you know that! I was barely old enough to hold a sword, and he was no older than I!" His father's grip tightened on the dagger, pressing it harder against Carlos, but it didn't hurt, nor did it draw any blood as it had on Cecil. His father was a wise man, blinded by rage, but he would not kill him, Carlos knew. Carlos lowered his voice, "Please, Father, I beseech you to let him live. He has done me no harm, and has not done anything to me that I did not ask of him. I ask for his life in return for the lives of those we have lost in this petty war with Noctis over the years." Cecil was still pressed against his back, and he felt him bury his face against him, his breathing still ragged and raw. Carlos felt the urge to turn and hold him against his chest, to give him back the breath that was stolen through kisses, to caress the soft hair that had been so harshly yanked at, but he refrained, and continued to stare down his father, letting the King gather his options. Finally, the King lowered the dagger. "You speak wisely," he admitted softly. "You speak like a king." "Then I have spoken of years of my father's wise counsel," Carlos spoke gently. "I must trust you with this jest," the King said, a bit ruefully, and he lowered the dagger back to its sheath at his belt. "I entrust this man to you, my son. His life is yours." Carlos nodded, and his father sized him up one last time, as though deciding whether or not he were truly done, before he turned on his heel and left. Carlos whirled around and caught Cecil in his arms as the other man lost all ability to stand, his hand letting go of its hold on Carlos’s shirt. Carlos picked him up, bridal style, and laid him down gently on the bed against the pillows, grabbing the corner of the sheet and removed Cecil's hand from the wound. "Your kingdom is set on seeing to it I do not live to see the week's end." Cecil rasped, wincing. He coughed, and Carlos smoothed a hand soothingly through his blond hair. Cecil leaned into the touch, and the grateful look on his face from the gentleness tugged at Carlos’s heart. “First I am escorted across the border in chains, and then your father tries to kill me.” "I'm so sorry," Carlos said, dabbing at the blood. "He was not supposed to return for a week yet. I had intended to write him of your stay here, to explain your early arrival. I should not have allowed you to stay last night, then perhaps he would not have reacted so viciously..." "Or perhaps he would have heard of my lodging, or encountered me in the hallways," Cecil said, cutting him off. "And then, without you there to be my prince in shining armor, he would have thrust a sword into my heart without a word of my own say." He winced as Carlos dabbed at the cut. "Am I going to have to get into a habit of saving you?" He joked. "Perhaps." Cecil said. "Perhaps I like playing the damsel in distress." Carlos smirked, humming in amusement as he finished wiping at the blood, before he stood and crossed the room. He dampened the towel in the pitcher of water in the corner, wringing it out before returning to Cecil, and placed the towel around his neck. "Hold that there," he instructed. "While we go get you bandages. It's not deep, but I'd rather it get wrapped up than leave it to the air. It’s the bruising that’s going to cause you discomfort." "Look at me, covered in bandages, like a leper." Cecil's blue eyes sparkled with humor despite the rag against his throat. "You are quite the nurse, Prince Carlos." "And you are quite the patient, Prince Cecil." Carlos kissed his nose. "Now come on. I'll lend you some clothes to wear." |
Chapter Sixteen
இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ—
The sky had begun to soften with predawn light by the time Molly was allowed to leave the police station.
As Sherlock had predicted, several members of the local Sussex police force had answered his 'summons'. Molly, Janine, and Sherlock had been rather forcibly asked to give their statements at the station. Chapman had been sent to emergency with a police escort to have his arm and the lump on his head looked at. Molly spent the entire ride to the station silently thanking Mary's foresight for not only coaching her on what to say to manipulate Chapman, but also passing along tips for acting appropriately upset and flustered when she was questioned by the police.
Not that she had to fake being upset. She was shaking the entire time an officer took her statement. Molly had to stop and collect herself twice, or risk breaking into tears as the fear she'd managed to tamp down during the confrontation with Chapman threatened to finally break free.
She was ready to drop--emotionally and physically exhausted--when they finally finished asking her questions and told her she was free to leave. She stopped dead at the sight of Janine (who had, thankfully, been allowed to change into jeans and a jumper before leaving her cottage) and Anthea waiting in the small lobby.
"What are you doing here?" Molly couldn't help blurting out as soon as she got close enough to Anthea.
"Mr Holmes sent a text to his brother saying you were going to need a ride back home from a police station in Sussex."
"Does that mean he's ready to leave?" Molly looked around but didn't see his familiar head of curls anywhere.
Anthea shook her head. "No. He's still inside, and probably will be for a bit longer. There's a lot of questions that have to be answered when you've shot a man. Even more when they don't die." She shrugged.
Molly couldn't tell if Anthea was joking or if she was completely earnest. Janine laughed, so Molly offered a hesitant chuckle of her own.
"Don't worry. I've spoken to the lead detective, and from what I've heard I don't think Mr Holmes will be in any insurmountable trouble." Janine looked almost as relieved as Molly felt at Anthea's words. "It's fairly clear that the odious tosspot assaulted Miss Hawkins, held Mr Holmes hostage at gun point, and tried to shoot Molly. Add to that possession of two illegal firearms, and Mr Chapman's chances of getting away on this one are very slim."
"Are you sure? Francis is a rich man." Janine had a valid point. Chapman had managed to worm his way out of being arrested before.
"He's got money, but I doubt that will do him much good this time. I don't imaging Sherlock Holmes will stop until he's seen Mr Chapman sentenced and behind bars," Anthea reassured them. "You've both had a really long night, go get some rest. Soter is waiting with a car outside. He's been instructed to take you both home. That includes London, Miss Hawkins, if you'd rather not stay in Sussex Downs."
Janine sighed in relief and immediately headed for the door. "Oh thank God. Do you think he'd be willing to stop by the cottage long enough that I can pack a bag?"
Molly started to follow her, then realized Anthea hadn't moved to join them. "You're not coming with us? How will you get back?"
"Mycroft is on his way. He wishes to speak with his brother personally. I'll be riding back with them."
Molly's eyes widened when the other woman said his given name. "Mycroft?"
Anthea's lips tilted upward in a shy, sweet smile.
இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ—
Her plan had been to pack up her things and wait for Sherlock to come back to Baker Street before she called a taxi.
A real one, not the one driven by Soter. She was really going to miss that man. He had promised to meet her for coffee in a few weeks so he could give her advice on plants for a window box in the spring. Then he had walked her to the door of 221B for the last time.
Unfortunately, by the time she'd gathered up the surprisingly large number of her things that had ended up strewn around the flat, Sherlock was still not home. The thought of leaving without seeing him made her physically ache, and Molly couldn't bear to consider it for more than a moment. She set her packed suitcase and several carrier bags next to John's chair, and laid down on the sofa to take a short nap while she waited for Sherlock.
Molly had no idea what time it was when she woke up. The room was brighter (Gently floating dust motes were visible in the sunlight from the windows.) so it must have been early afternoon. She sat up and stretched, wincing at the soft pops and clicks along her spine. When she began to rotate her neck to work out the last of the kinks from her nap, she saw him.
Leaning one shoulder against the open doorframe, his arms crossed defensively across his chest, was Sherlock. He was still wearing his Belstaff, and his hair was even more ruffled and mussed than usual. His face was a blank mask. She wondered how long he'd been standing there, watching her sleep.
"You're leaving." It wasn't quite an accusation, but it was a far cry from the casual observation his expression was meant to convey.
"Well, yeah. Toby misses me, I'm sure. And Chapman is in police custody so you don't need to babysit me anymore." She was confused. Surely he wasn't surprised that she was going back to her own flat?
Sherlock dropped his arms and took a short step toward her. She saw his hands clench at his sides before he tucked them behind his back and out of sight. "You were just going to pack up and leave without saying goodbye?"
"No!" Molly hopped off the couch and debated with whether or no she should approach him. Her body swayed in his direction, drawn to him, even though her feet remained in place. "No, I would never-"
"Then what are you doing?" Again, his voice betrayed him, each syllable a harsh staccato beat.
"I'm not leaving you, I'm just going home." He visibly flinched when she spoke. For the first time Molly wondered if he had wanted her to stay. They'd never actually discussed what would happen after the mess with Chapman had been dealt with. She'd always just assumed that she'd go back to her place and they'd continue with this new stage in their relationship.
She wasn't sure what else to call it. It wasn't really dating, was it? Sherlock dated Janine. This was something different. Something more.
Love.
Molly approached him cautiously, as if he were a wild animal that might bolt at the slightest provocation. Once she was close enough, she reached up to sink her fingers into his beautiful hair. She fully expected him to petulantly draw away from her touch; instead, he tilted his head so that he could lean into her hand. His eyes briefly fluttered shut.
She'd never seen him look so fragile, so vulnerable. Molly cupped his jaw with her other hand and brushed her thumb over his prominent cheekbone. "I love you."
"Then why are you leaving?"
His pale eyes opened and looked down at her with so much warmth and need it made her want to promise him the world if she could, but she also didn't want to ruin everything between them by moving too fast. "Because we've only been together such a short time."
Sherlock shook head. "It seems like it's been forever. You've been a part of me for years."
Molly thought her heart would burst with love for the man before her. "Come to my place tonight. I'll cook dinner. Give us a chance to get used to being a normal couple--well, as normal as we'll ever be--before we rush into anything too-too . . ."
"You still think I'm going to change my mind." Sherlock took a step back, disappointment and sadness drawing his lips into a pout. Her hands fell from his face to his rest against chest.
"I think that you are everything I've wanted for so very long, and part of me is convinced that this is too good to be true." Molly needed him to understand. "We've never had a conventional relationship, and I don't expect us to now, but I need some time to convince myself that all of this is reality, not a dream. I don't want to push too far, too soon. I want you to be absolutely sure this is what you want. That this is what we both want. I need to know that you'll still want to be with me when we aren't involved in an exciting case, when things are boring and dull. I don't want you to feel trapped, like you have to find somewhere to hide because I'm here all the time and you can't think." She bit her lip, wondering if she'd just jinxed them somehow.
"Like Janine, you mean."
Molly shrugged. She knew the circumstances were totally different, but Sherlock was Sherlock and he would always have his idiosyncrasies to deal with. She wanted to ease into things to make sure they were going to be able to find common ground that worked for both of them. Staying at Baker Street--living at Baker Street--was a giant leap forward, and she honestly didn't think they were ready for it. Not yet.
Sherlock looked as if he wanted to argue, but he held his tongue. She knew the exact moment when he accepted that she was right. "Dinner?" he asked.
"Please?"
"Can I stay the night?"
Dear Lord, the things that man's voice could do to her.
"That can probably be arranged." Molly raised up on her toes so she could press her lips against his. Sherlock wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her tight against his chest to help support her as the kiss deepened.
"You can leave on one condition," he murmured against her lips.
"Tell me what it is, and I'll consider it," she offered as he slowly lowered her back to the floor.
He nudged her further into the sitting room and pushed the flat door shut behind him. "I'm going to need something to tide me over until I see you tonight." Sherlock pulled off his Belstaff and let it drop to the floor.
"What?" Even to her own ears, Molly knew she sounded breathless and eager.
Sherlock took her hand and began to lead her through the kitchen toward his bedroom. "You."
இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ—
A few weeks later found Molly spending a relaxing afternoon at Baker Street. She'd had a lovely lie-in with Toby curled against her back that morning. Then lunch with Meena, who still called Sherlock 'the arsehole' (although there was a tiny hint of affectionate tolerance in it now that she could see how happy Molly was).
Sherlock had invited her over to spend the afternoon experimenting with whatever random things he pulled out of the refrigerator. Mrs Hudson had put her foot down that the fridge needed to be completely sanitized (or replaced, she was willing to negotiate) before she would do any more errands for him, and that meant it needed to be emptied. Sherlock and Molly agreed it would be a huge waste to toss everything without getting a chance to play with it a bit first.
They'd moved on from the really interesting stuff to trying to figure out what the unrecognizable mass of congealed slop stored in a margarine tub might have been in its former life. Molly's guess was either a stew or Shepherd's Pie; but Sherlock was leaning toward pancreas marinated in bile (although he couldn't remember if or when he'd brought something like that home). They didn't have access to the more sophisticated equipment at Barts, so they were making a game of improvising ways to deduce the answer with only items available in the flat.
It was rather fun actually.
Molly's pen eventually ran dry and Sherlock refused to let her steal his. He slid it out of her reach. "This one is mine. Find your own."
"You just want me to waste time searching so you can figure it out first."
"Perhaps." His grin was mischievous as he placed another slide into his microscope.
She rolled her eyes and went in search of a new pen. The desk seemed the obvious place to start. There were several writing utensils on the desktop but most of them were either long dried out pens or broken pencils. "Why are you saving these?"
"Bin them if you'd like." He barely spared her a glance.
The long shelf on top of the desk proved more productive as she immediately found a working pen next to a stack of books. Molly almost walked away before she noticed the familiar bundle of dark material that had been carefully folded and hidden behind the books.
Somehow she'd managed to forget the mystery of the Reappearing Ruined Scarf in all the Chapman drama.
"Is this the scarf you borrowed from Mrs Hudson?"
Sherlock looked up from his microscope just long enough to glance at the small mass of silk in her hands. "Yep." He popped the last letter in that particular way of his that was equal parts annoying and childishly adorable to her.
"I thought Mrs Hudson said you'd told her it was ruined?" Molly ran the soft fabric through her fingers, watching the glittering threads catch the light with her movements. The scarf was intact, not a single snag marred the material.
"I did."
"You lied to her?"
Sherlock sighed and slid his chair away from the kitchen table, turning to give her his full attention. "I would have assumed that was obvious."
"It was on your desk." She continued to play with the scarf, enjoying the feeling of the silk against her hands.
"Was it?" he asked as if they were discussing whether or not it would rain.
"Why?"
He shrugged, apparently unconcerned. "It seemed a convenient place to put it at the time."
"That's not-I meant why did you tell her it was ruined?" Her voice turned husky as she voiced the question she'd truly wanted an answer to. "Why did you keep it?"
His face remained impassive as he stared at her for a long moment before he answered her. "Because it smelled like you."
Molly looked at the scarf as if she'd never seen it before. "What?"
"Your perfume. You had a bottle in your purse. Most likely in case you felt the need to refresh it during your blind date with the boring imbecile. You used it before we left for the bar."
Sherlock grimaced and shook his head as she lifted the scarf to her nose and sniffed. "It's gone now. There's no scent left."
He was wrong. There may not have been any trace of her perfume, but there was a masculine aroma embedded in the silken threads. She closed her eyes and rubbed the material against her cheek, inhaling the scent that she would always recognize as Sherlock's.
Her eyes slowly opened to find him watching her.
It was clear that he hadn't just left the scarf behind the books; he'd held it, touched it, managed to get his scent all over it. Molly felt her entire body go warm as she wondered what, exactly, he'd been doing with the silk scarf since it had been 'ruined'.
All sorts of deliciously filthy ideas ran through her mind. "It smells like you."
His face went suspiciously blank. "Does it?"
"Why would that be, I wonder?" She leaned her hip against the desk and continued to play with the fabric. "What have you been doing with it, to make it hold your scent?"
His lips curled into what was quite possibly the sexiest smirk Molly had ever seen. "You tell me." His voice dropped low and smooth, and her body reacted as if he'd physically touched her.
"It was on your desk." She mused, thinking aloud.
"You've already established that."
She'd heard him mention watching porn on John's laptop at least once. Perhaps he had . . . ? She looked at the desktop, then back to Sherlock. "Your laptop is on the desk."
"An astute observation." His face gave nothing away, and the rest of his body remained completely still. No obvious tell to let her know she was on the right track.
Molly frowned. That wasn't it. He'd watched porn, admittedly, but not for entertainment. She bit the inside of her cheek as she puzzled through it. She'd found it on the desk just now, but it had been tucked between the cushions of his chair the day she'd brought him the cooler of hands from Barts. Her gaze had focused on the glass panels next to the kitchen doorway while she'd thought, and she smiled as everything clicked. "It's not the laptop, though. It's the view."
And there was the tell. Sherlock sat up straighter. His body tensed. She could see his biceps flex under his indecently tight dress shirt.
She moved to stand behind his chair. "From the chair at the desk, you have a straight view of that spot." She pointed to the place where she'd been standing that horrible Christmas party when Sherlock had brutally deduced her and then apologized. "Practically the same view from here, but this chair is much more comfortable, I would imagine."
"That is true." Sherlock nodded. "It is a comfortable chair."
"So what is it that you wanted to look at while you held something that smelled like my perfume?" He didn't answer, but she hadn't really expected him to. He seemed to be enjoying watching her work through it on her own. If he'd been bored, he would have already insisted it wasn't important and gone back to his experiment.
Molly patted the top of his chair. "Could you do me a favour? Sit here. Help me visualize the scene of the crime, so to speak."
He huffed, but did as she asked.
She leaned down so that her breath stirred the fine hairs around his ear. She loosely draped the scarf around his neck and smoothed it down his shoulders. "I don't see anything in particular that would hold your interest, perhaps it's not something there now?" Molly turned her head and brushed her lips against his earlobe. "A memory?"
He shivered at the feather-light contact. Molly smiled, feeling proud of herself and more than a little sexy. She whispered, "I remember standing right about there when I came to your Christmas party. Do you know how fast my heart started to race when I saw you?"
"I can make an educated guess based off the average resting heart rate of a woman your age and your lifestyle . . ." He groaned. "And that was a rhetorical question, wasn't it?"
Molly sighed and dropped her forehead against his shoulder. "Yes." She stood up and ran her fingers through the curls on the back of his head. "I was trying to set a mood, Sherlock."
"Ah." He leaned his head back to look up at her and held out a hand in invitation. "If you come here, I'll tell you what I used to do with the scarf," he offered in apology. "That might bring the mood back."
She took his hand and let him draw her around the chair into his lap. Sherlock silently indicated that he wanted her to look at the spot they'd been discussing. "You came up the stairs that night, bags of presents in your hands and that ridiculous bow in your hair, and stopped right there to take your coat off. I don't think I'd ever seen your hair down like that before, surely I would have remembered."
Molly shook her head. "Not very practical in the morgue."
Sherlock hummed in acknowledgement. She turned so that she could see his face. His eyes had gone slightly unfocussed as he got lost in the memory.
"It looked so soft. So touchable. I had to look away. Centre myself. But I could hear John and Geoff practically salivating over you, as if they had a right. One quick glance seared your image in my mind. I stared, unseeing, at John's blog and knew that I would never be able to forget how you looked in that dress. You kept drawing my focus, distracting me, and I couldn't have that. And then there was the present. The one meant for the man you clearly cared about, the man who wasn't me, and I couldn't stop it . . . Couldn't stop the flood of hurtful words."
His hand found hers on her lap and he covered it. "I didn't recognize it at the time, but it was jealousy that made me do it. Pure and simple. I thought it was just pique at being forced to host that annoying party. I'd already taken out my frustration with everyone else in the room and you were just the next target on the list. That's how I justified it." His thumb began to draw small circles on the back of her wrist.
"You were so hurt, I had to do something to make it better; hence the apology, the kiss on the cheek. You were wearing that perfume. I've noticed it so many times since then, how could I not? For so long I refused to attach any significant importance to the way it always reminded me of that moment, the look on your face as I leaned in to kiss your cheek that first time."
He blinked and looked at her, gazed drawn down to her softly parted lips. "I've wished so many times that things had gone differently. That I'd kept my mouth shut. That I'd told you how lovely you were. That I had kissed you properly, on your pretty red lips. I have imagined all of those scenarios and more since I let myself begin to think of you that way."
Sherlock pulled the silk scarf from around his neck and brushed the end against her cheek. "I really had meant to return this. It was with the other things I took down to Mrs Hudson that morning; but I pocketed it at the last moment and told her it had been ruined. I was still trying to figure out why I kept it, when you came out in my shirt and robe. I'd never been so hard so fast in my life. I couldn't say anything without running the risk of sounding like a stammering fool, so I just sat here until I could think coherently again. Later, when I left your cleaned clothes in the bathroom while you were in the shower . . . I didn't peek, I swear it, but my God I wanted to. I'm surprised you didn't hear me panting like a randy teenager, clenching my fists to keep from reaching for that damn shower curtain. I had to leave, obviously."
She let him continue to ghost the material across her skin, along her jaw and down the length of her throat. "I thought you'd had a case?"
"Solved it in ten minutes, spent the next four hours insisting Gerome give me something challenging until he threatened to have me arrested."
Molly caught her lower lip between her teeth in an effort to keep from laughing.
He dropped the scarf onto her lap and slid his hand around the back of her neck. He pulled her close enough that he could press his forehead against hers, his breath hot against her lips. "You were gone when I came home. All I could think about was you in my shower, you in my bed, you standing right over there in that tight black dress, in my robe. I didn't even make it to the bedroom, Molly."
Sherlock groaned and nipped at her lip, urging her to open her mouth for him. His tongue found hers as soon as she gave him what he wanted.
"Right here," he groaned against her lips in between hot, open mouthed kisses. "I didn't even bother undressing, just unzipped and had my hand around my cock in under a minute."
She whimpered and turned as much as she could in his lap so that they were pressed chest to chest.
"I'd shoved the scarf in the chair cushions when I heard you get up that morning. I didn't mean to grab it, but I was suddenly burying my nose in it. With my eyes closed, I could imagine you were here. Standing right there in that black dress with your hungry eyes, watching me get off."
"Oh yes," Molly moaned. She started to tug at his shirt buttons, popping them open as quickly as she could. "Is that all you wanted me to do? Just watch you?"
"No! I wanted-" He broke off as she kissed him hard, all teeth and tongue and heat. Sherlock tried to follow her when she withdrew, but Molly ducked her head so she could finish dealing with his buttons. "Touch me. I need . . ."
She pulled his shirt free of his trousers and ran her palms over his newly exposed skin. "Tell me what you need, what else did you think about when you touched yourself?"
"You turn around and pull up your dress so I can see your knickers. I love your arse."
Her hands stopped moving as she looked at him, eyes wide and surprised. "You like my bum?"
Sherlock dropped both hands down to fill them with her arse cheeks. "No, I love it. Thank God you wear those hideous lab coats at Barts, else I'd never get anything done for staring at your arse."
"How did you even know what my bum looked like? You rarely saw me outside Barts." She gasped when his hands slipped under her blouse and into the waistband of her trousers so that his fingers could graze the top of her buttocks.
He smirked. "I'm very observant."
Molly pinched one of his nipples in retaliation. He hissed and his hips jerked upwards, pressing his arousal against her thigh. "Do I keep my knickers on?"
"Sometimes." Her waistband kept his fingers from getting any lower, and he groaned in frustration. "Sometimes you take them off and come sit in my lap."
"Like this?" she questioned just before she lowered her head and took the nipple she'd pinched between her lips and sucked.
Sherlock moaned, long and low. He released her bum and started to blindly pluck at the buttons of her blouse. "Facing away. You lean forward and let me fuck you, hard and fast. I can look down and see my cock disappear inside you, touch your beautiful back. I never last long when I imagine that. Please, Molly, let's go to bed."
He was practically begging, desperate for her. She was just as desperate for him. Molly knew she was wet, her nipples ached, and she wasn't at all sure she'd be able to wait until they made to his room and got undressed.
She slid off his lap and finished unbuttoning her shirt. He started to stand and Molly held out a hand to stop him. "Stay. Right there."
His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. "Molly?"
She shrugged off her blouse and quickly reached behind to unhook her bra. "Take off your trousers. Don't get up, just slide them off. Pants too." She knew she was being a little bossy, but the last few weeks seemed to indicate that Sherlock rather enjoyed it when she got a bit assertive in the bedroom.
"Here?" His eyes closed and he began to breath heavily through his nose.
"Don't you want to?" Molly wondered if she'd read the moment wrong.
He groaned and gripped the arms of the chair hard enough to turn his knuckles white. "Yes, I want . . . Just give me a minute. I'm already close just thinking about . . . Fuck."
Watching him fight for control only managed to make her even more aroused. She finished undressing quickly, then nudged him with her foot. "I'm waiting, Sherlock."
His eyes snapped open. He moaned at the sight of her standing in front of him, feet planted wide apart, completely bare to his gaze. Sherlock's hands dropped to his belt and he wrenched it open. He toed off his shoes, then braced his feet on the floor and lifted his bum so he could slide his trousers and boxers down his legs.
The scarf had fallen to the floor when she stood up. Molly bent to retrieve it, revelling in the way he moaned her name as her small breasts moved. By the time she was done he was only wearing his unbuttoned shirt. She thought about asking him to take it off, but he looked so deliciously debauched-- slouched low in the chair, shirt open and chest bare, cheeks flushed, hair a mess of curls, his erection straining toward her. She wanted him to stay like that forever.
She leaned down and touched him, gliding her hands from his neck down his chest and stomach to his erection. Sherlock bit his lip and grabbed the chair arms again. Molly loosely wrapped the scarf around his cock and began to stroke him. His back arched and his bum actually came up off the chair as he jerked toward her. "Fuck!"
"Have you ever done this before?"
"Yes," he panted, those pale eyes locked on her hands and what they were doing to him. "Not often, didn't want to, oh God, to ruin it." His hips began to rock into her touch.
Molly considered letting him come like this, but she wanted him inside her, filling her. She pressed her lips to his, drawing his lower lip into her mouth and releasing it with a loud pop. Sherlock cupped the back of her neck to keep her close enough to kiss again and again. His other hand palmed her breast, playing with the nipple.
"Closest condom?" she whispered against his jaw. "Bedroom or . . . ?"
Sherlock gasped, "Wallet. Trousers on the floor." He wrapped his other hand around hers, stilling her movements. "I need you. Now."
She released him with a pleased murmur and bent down again to find his wallet. He removed the scarf and tossed it aside. Molly passed the condom to him and waited for him to put it on, pressing her legs tight together in an effort to ease the ache between her thighs.
He reached for her and she shook her head. "You said you wanted me like this." She turned and sat on his lap, opening her legs so they were on either side of his; scooting closer until her back was against his chest, and his penis was snug between them.
"I love you," Sherlock breathed against the back of her neck before lightly scrapping his teeth against her shoulder.
Her laughter was soft and breathless and full of joy. "Try telling me again when you're not desperate to come." She shifted her hips, lifting herself just enough to give him room to do what they both wanted.
"I will, promise."
She felt him reach between their bodies to position himself; then she slowly eased down, taking him in. They both groaned as he filled her. Once she was certain what they were doing was feasible and not some porn fantasy impossibility, she coyly looked over her shoulder. "Now?"
Sherlock pulled his lower lip between his teeth again and nodded. She felt his thighs tighten beneath her as she leaned forward to brace her hands on his knees; exposing her back and arse to his gaze, just as he'd described. She lifted off his lap, barely able to touch the floor with the pads of her feet, then down one more time. Sherlock's hands fell to her waist, offering support as they began to come together faster. Harder.
The sounds of sex filled the sitting room; the sharp slap of flesh against flesh, Molly's delighted gasps as Sherlock pulled her onto him with more and more force, his low growl when she would briefly slip a hand down to caress his balls.
Sherlock spread his knees for leverage. Her feet no longer touched the floor, and she was unable to close her legs. They were completely exposed if anyone were to walk in at that moment, and Molly didn't care.
One of his hands caressed her arse for a moment, then slid around to find her clit. The other wrapped around her body and pulled her back against his chest. She reached up behind her head to sink her hands into his hair as he continued to work her nub with his fingers.
She moaned his name. "Close." The tension was building inside, like an ever tightening rubber band just waiting to snap.
"Thank God," Sherlock gasped against her ear. He bit her shoulder and Molly came. He whined deep in his throat as he continued to thrust through her orgasm; then his rhythm stuttered and he joined her. "Molly!"
It took a few moments to catch her breath, and she spent that time limply draped across his chest. "Oh, Sherlock, I love you."
She could feel, more than hear, his breathless laughter. "Try telling me when I haven't just made you come." |
Two years later
The mid-morning air of the desert was already sweltering. Dry. Dust billowing up under the beat of hooves as they traveled west. The warm sun angry, boiling, in front of them as they followed the winding road.
“I'm telling you,” John huffed indignantly, “I didn't believe it either, till I saw it myself.”
The best Arthur could manage, already drained by the stifling heat, was a roll of his eyes.
And to think the day had started out routine enough. The pair of them heading out from the humble homestead they'd built these past months, up to Tumbleweed. Intent on getting supplies, only to be distracted by Marston's latest fantasy.
“And I'm tellin you that there ain't no goddamn whale in the desert,” Arthur growled, shaking his head. Far as he was convinced, they were on a goddamn fool's errand. He’d seen plenty of things, but a damn whale in the desert? All the time they’d lived here, he hadn’t seen so much as a fish, unless they pulled it up themselves. And there certainly weren’t no whales to be found.
He should have dismissed it. Should have chalked up the man's nonsensical rambling up to nothing more than drunken shenanigans. Way he carried on about it, that was the only explanation. But Marston wouldn't let it drop. Refused to let it settle.
That's why they were riding away from Tumbleweed, a damn half-day out of their way. A tattered map clutched tight in the man's hands as he led the way. A smirk on his face as he laughed.
“You're gonna eat your words soon enough.”
“If there is a whale, then I'll eat my damn hat,” he snorted indignantly.
“Gonna hold you to that,” the younger man laughed, pushing Old Boy into a run. Arthur followed suit with Dakota, the pair of them leaving dust in their wake.
The sun held overhead, hanging in an open blue sky. Rays reflecting off brown rolling hills in the far distance. Arthur relishing in the tepid wind that raced by as they rode on.
He loved the desert.
He loved the life they’d built here.
He didn’t think he would. But he did.
After they left Beaver’s Hollow all those years ago, he figured they’d end up wandering, indecisive, til they all dropped dead. They started west until they had found sanctuary within the openness of Big Valley, just minutes from Strawberry. Him, Hosea, John and his family. Living idly amongst the trees, near the river. They’d mostly kept out of towns, save for checking the post or having a meal with Jimmy. And Jimmy was always surprised to see him, always overjoyed, always welcoming the company. He told the same stories, lived the same life; he was steady. Arthur liked that now that he, too, was steady.
And when he wasn't keeping company with old friends, he was wandering. Hunting, fishing, providing—a role he never seemed to outgrow. Though he relished in it, took comfort in the routine.
It had been good, for the most part. If one ignored the clashes with the O'Driscolls that hid up that way as well, though the gang had all but dispersed on the account of Colm's demise.
That was sure something, too. Seems the man had been caught by Ross. Strung up in a public display within Saint Denis. The news shared with happy vigor about the campfire one sodden morning as Hosea passed around the paper that had been fetched from town. Arthur had spent a few good minutes staring at the article before tucking it away. Unsure of how he was supposed to feel.
If nothing else, it was another chapter in his life, done and over with. Sadie would be happy, if she ever heard the news. Dutch as well— though Arthur was certain he would have liked to see the man swing.
Dutch… He just couldn’t shake the man from his thoughts. Every single day it seemed, since they had parted. A strange sense of guilt festering inside of him, though he didn't deem to share that with anyone. Not even Hosea. He didn't want to muddle new memories with old, a silent promise that things would be better long as they kept looking forward.
A promise he felt as though had been rightly kept.
Regardless, they stayed in Big Valley through the winter. None of them keen to push through snow, waiting for the promise of spring instead. Waiting for another promise as well; Dutch's letter. For a time, Arthur didn't think he'd hear anything. As days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, those whispered words of 'give him time' turned into 'he moved on' and Arthur had all but given up hope. Had tried his damndest to put the man out of his mind. Until the morning it'd come.
It had been near two pages in length about the allure of tropical life. Dutch's ramblings casting a smile over his face, lessening the anxiety that had so clearly wormed its way inside. They had made it. They were safe. And that knowledge had helped Arthur to focus on something new.
Had forced him to do something he hadn't much thought about. He'd sat down with the others. Had made a plan. Something they all agreed on, and the next morning they had cut out west, trailing through Tall Trees and across the river, out into open wilderness. Traveling ever west until they found a spit of land long forgotten along the San Luis River.
Only then did he write Dutch back, telling him of the change, advising him to redirect those letters of his towards Tumbleweed instead. It'd taken a while before they'd heard anything; though Arthur suspected it took time for letters to travel across the ocean. He could swear he heard the man's voice, echoing in his head as he traced over the written words. A small part of him found it comforting.
Not as comforting as the warmth of the day. A geniality he didn't ever feel he'd be deserving of. Life out here was free; about as free as they could ever hope for. The land open, untamed. Quiet. Save for whispers of new gangs grabbing a foothold in the area. Seemed that news of disbandment of the Van der Linde Gang made quick rounds, encouraging other fools to fill in those gaps.
They were easy enough to avoid; he and John taking care to skirt around ramshackle fortresses that were crumbling in the wind. They were about the only ones who ever went out; Abigail keeping at home with Jack, and Hosea waving off most offers of travel.
His leg never healed right.
He could walk well enough without help, though there was a steady limp to his gait. And Arthur knew he hurt more often than not, ever more so when rolling thunderstorms graced them. Though he kept those pains to himself, never one to complain. Arthur did the best he could by him, bringing an adequate supply of medicine and tonics back with him whenever they made the trip north to town.
As for John; well, John had his own battles.
New scars atop the old ones, almost mirrored on the opposite side of his face. Flesh that healed in a gruesome manner that left him even uglier than he'd been before. Arthur supposed it was most likely a blessing in the fact that Marston wasn't vain; the man hardly seemed bothered by his state, shrugging off the whole ordeal whenever it was brought up.
Though looks were hardly the root of the problem for him. His sight was.Blinded, or damn near it in the one eye. John had confessed this much to him, late one night when the pair of them had settled down out in the open desert. Their conversation grim, drifting back to darker times.
Arthur hadn't much of a response for that. No grand speech or eloquent words to settle the man's anxiety. They'd gone to sleep with heavy thoughts, only to rise the next morning acting as though those words had never been shared in the first place.
Arthur hadn't the wherewithal to bring it up a second time, and far as he could tell, John was fine with it. Not to mention he wouldn't even know, seeing as it hadn't slowed the man down at all.
In fact, there was a mischievous twinkle in his eye as he turned back around, waving him on. He pulled Old Boy off the road, cresting a small hill, Arthur right on his heels. Slowing to a stop as it came into view.
Bones.
Picked clean and large; similar to the bones he'd found scattered amongst the Heartlands long ago. Situated clearly and undeniably impossible to mistake for something else.
It was a god damn whale.
“The hell?” he breathed.
“Told you there was a whale,” John smirked near him, absolute smugness rolling off of him.
He shifted uncomfortably atop Dakota, stunned. Torn between a desire to deck the bastard, just to wipe that look off of his face, and to apologize for doubting him in the first place. His voice thin as he shook his head. “Can we… revisit the whole 'eating my hat' thing?”
“You are really something,” John rolled his eyes as turned Old Boy around.
“I'm something?” Arthur scoffed, following him on out, stammering over his own words, having committed the leviathan to memory, “I… well… Shit, well I ain't the fool that dragged someone half a day away to prove a point.”
“Well if you’d’a just believed me to begin with, there wouldn’t’a been no point to prove,” John was ever eager to remind him.
“If I’d’a listened, then I’d be a bigger fool than you— you ain’t exactly known for truth-telling, now is you?”
They bickered still; seemed as though that was one thing that would never change. The desert was filled that day with endless amounts – the only sound to cut through the still, death-like silence in those long hours it took for them to reach Tumbleweed.
It was a lonely, pitiful place. Half the shops sat abandoned, buried in layers of sand not cleaned off from the latest of storms. A glimpse of the future, if Arthur knew any better. Even so, the place was a far cry closer than Armadillo, and near perfectly suited for their purposes, so they continued to come. And would do so until they couldn't.
They split off soon as they arrived. John tended to the store, while Arthur saw the post. He picked up the few spare letters that had collected there. He recognized Dutch's handwriting, as well as Hamish's. It'd taken far longer than Arthur had wanted to admit to finally write the man as he promised. Guilt had finally done him in; Hosea as well. Prompting him until Arthur reached out. Something Arthur was grateful for. Reading Hamish's letters of all that was going on back east was almost therapeutic in a way. It made it feel as though he hadn't truly absconded into the midst of nowhere. And as dreary and miserable as he had been over there, there were parts he truly missed.
Not to mention that Hosea wouldn't have it any other way. The older man seemed almost giddy to read his letters as well. Had written his fair share in return, a keen smile on his face all the while that left Arthur guessing to what in the hell they may be talking about.
He tried to read one once. Only to be threatened with a painful death if he even thought about it. Hosea made a point to hand his letters to John afterwards. For 'safe-keeping'. Or so the man claimed.
Little did he know that he simply beat the fool up and took it for himself, soon as they were far enough away from the homestead. It'd grown routine enough now that John simply handed the shit over without so much of a threat. Though it hardly provided anything of interest.
The truth was, the two were simply boring. Long winded tales of hunts they'd done or some other mundane shit that was highly uncaptivating. He'd stop reading them after long, though John still continued the habit of passing them his way.
“Got anything good?” John wondered, meeting him outside the post.
“One from Dutch,” he shrugged, pulling himself into the saddle. They set off, intent to leave Tumbleweed behind them.
“Anything new?”
“Not really,” Arthur elaborated, sharing the contents of the letter. “Still doing good; enjoying life. Says we made the wrong choice, as usual.”
“You tell him, 'bout the ranch?”
“Sure,” he nodded. Although it could hardly be called a ranch. A busted down hovel that had been roughly patched, rotten fences from the previous owner. The place had a lot of work left before it could resemble anything close to a ranch.
Not to mention livestock.
The closest they had were a smattering of horses, all of which had been taken from Beaver's Hollow. Still, he reckoned it was something worth boasting over. A piece of land to call their own. A dream they had long in the making.
“He have anything to say ‘bout it?”
John sounded indignant; Arthur couldn't blame him.
“Course not,” he rolled his eyes. He didn't expect any sort of praise from the man. It would be nice, he had to admit. But he wasn't going to hold his breath. “Look, John—you ain't done this for him. Remember that.”
“I know.”
“You done this for yourself; for your family,” Arthur pressed.
He sighed. “ I know. It's just...spent all those years trying to please him, trying to do what's right, and now, here we are doing what we talked about for so long...and he don't have the decency to say a damn thing when we finally get somethin’ good.”
“You can be bitter as you want, John. Ain't gonna change things. Right now it's you, your family...us. Just...be happy with that, alright?”
“Course, I'm happy,” John agreed, “being here? Lot better than were we were.”
“Ain't that the truth.”
“You?” the man wondered, watching him. He turned, meeting his gaze, John elaborating at his questioning glance. “Are you happy? With all this?”
Was he?
The thought sat heavy in his mind, sorting through thoughts both painful and kind. He'd been through a lot of shit. Had suffered, needlessly, at times. But these past years had been more wonderful than he ever thought possible. More than he thought someone like him could ever deserve.
They hadn't heard any whisper of the law. Neither had they any signs of the Pinkertons. None of the posters in town called for their heads, and they were free to move about the country. Coming and going as they pleased; no more hiding. No more fighting. No more surviving.
They were living.
A wistful smile played on his face as he patted Dakota's side. The answer easier to come by than he thought possible.
“Sure am.”
|
And if tonight ever makes a difference
The way that I feel
The way that I'll remember this
Well we're this young
We have nothing to lose
Just a clock to beat and a hand to choose.
Say goodnight
Our first goodbye
I've only got forever and forever is why
Just take your time
We'll stop the clock together and know that the timing was right.
The warmth was something Karkat never wanted to lose. John had a specific type of warmth the troll had not found anywhere else. Eridan nor Gamzee ever felt so warm because they were high-bloods and there was something extra special about John's warmth. Perhaps because he was human or perhaps it had more to do with the deep feelings Karkat had for him. He wasn't sure and anytime he thought too hard about it he was left feeling worse than when he began.
John's hands were always warm. Whether they were combing through his tangled mess of dark hair or cupping his cheek for a tender kiss; those hands meant something to Karkat. Something deep and primal. Something he could not explain nor did he wish to. Such a desire was uncommon for him and though it was beneficial for a red relationship it was not helpful for their pale one in any manner. But sometimes, Karkat found his thoughts drifting into how much he really loved the feel of his skin against John's.
The air in the cabin was cool and smelled of burning ash from the fireplace not too far away. The warmth enveloping the troll was a common thing and as he came back to consciousness, his skin tingled where John touched. The room was still dark, telling Karkat the sun had still not risen and for a moment, he tried to remember when the two of them had fallen asleep together. He tried to remember how they ended up in bed and what they were doing previously but his mind was fuzzy and when he peeked open an eye, his breath settled in his throat at the stunning blue eyes staring back at him.
John's arm around the troll's waist tightened, his skin burning against Karkat's as he shifted to plant a gentle kiss into black hair. Karkat let out a faint purr and arched his back, leaning into the human holding him from behind. His head was tilted naturally into John and he thought nothing of it as John's large warm hand started to circle over his bare stomach. Ah, right. He was naked. Not too odd. John felt so warm with their legs pulled together and every part of Karkat's back side touching John in some way. Why was John naked too?
Karkat shifted, rolling his head so he was facing the wall and wiggled his way until his back was pressed fully against John's front. John mumbled something that the troll didn't quite catch as he started to plant soft kisses over a bare grey shoulder. Karkat shifted, moving his foot backwards till it hooked with one of John's and the hand over his stomach slowly started to trail upwards. His skin tingled wherever those warm fingertips touched, moving over his ribs until John could wrap his fingers around Karkat's throat.
The sound the troll made was anything but pale as he tilted his head back with John urging him on till warm lips could press against the curve of his pointed ear. He grunted softly, running his claws up John's arm, over dark arm hair and over his knuckles. He let their hands rest together over his throat as John planted gentle kisses along his ear that sent sparks of warm arousal through his insides. He felt pinned with John's arm over his body, clutching his throat while the other rest innocently under his head.
John didn't say a word as he kissed down Karkat's neck and paused at the junction of his neck and shoulder. His other hand came up, digging into silky black hair and Karkat found himself to be well and truly pinned though he didn't mind in the least. His body felt warm, buzzing with a tingling sensation that he couldn't quite put his finger on. John's lips were wet and soft against his skin and as his hand trailed away from Karkat's neck, he found he really enjoyed how well their bodies fit together.
With one hand curling to clutch at the elbow holding his head still, the other moved to reach behind him and grip John's hip. The angle was awkward but John shifted forward, pressing his groin into Karkat's back side and crimson eyes snapped open in surprise. There was something hard there, something Karkat knew to be John's bulge and it made every nerve in the troll's body spark to life. He shivered, his eyes slipping shut as he pressed his hips back against that hard thing. John let out a faint gasp of air, his fingers tightening in Karkat's hair as he pressed his face into the troll's neck.
Karkat's back arched slightly, his heart picking up in his chest as his claws dug into the soft flesh of John's thigh. A warm hand danced along the skin of his stomach, pressing into sensitive areas that made his body twitch with pleasure. John's lips were wet against the skin of his neck, leaving kisses and the occasional flash of blunt teeth that left Karkat wanting more. Those lips and that hand were driving him nuts and he wanted more. More what, he wasn't sure. Just more.
When John's hand dipped down between Karkat's legs, the troll released an intimate sound that made John press closer. Blunt nails scrapped along the grey flushed skin just above his sheathed bulge and Karkat's entire body flushed with a specific type of warmth. Using the little leverage he had, Karkat pushed his thighs apart, giving John more access to the most intimate part of his body. A place the hero had only seen but never came close to touching and Karkat had no intention of making him stop anytime soon.
Long fingers felt along the folds of grey skin that lead to a red flushed nook that Karkat was ready to give away. John was gentle as his fingers moved along the red slit, nuzzling gently into Karkat's neck until his tongue slipped out and pressed against the troll's pulse. A faint purr came from Karkat as he pressed down into John's fingers, urging him on to just touch. Touch and feel and press inside because Karkat was completely ready for it.
But those fingers moved away to press curiously and gently at the small tapered tip of Karkat's red bulge that was finally deciding it wanted to join the party. It was slick, wet and warm, and as John's gentle fingers felt along the underside of it Karkat let out a lewd pathetic sound that was complete surrender. Claws dug into soft flesh as John worked to get that bulge out of Karkat as much as possible. It didn't take much. A few strokes and Karkat's wiggling, curling bulge escaped and wrapped around long fingers.
"Fuck." Karkat gasped softly, his eyes rolling back in his head at the burning pleasure that flowed from his bulge to spread over his body. John's fingers were skilled and gentle as they stroked him without hesitation. His throat tightened at the vibrations coming from it and the soft moans he released shifted into something darker; something more trollistic that urged John on. Blunt teeth sunk into his shoulder as his claws scrapped along John's thigh, pulling the male closer until that hard, stiff bulge was completely pressed against the seam of his ass.
John didn't do anything with his own bulge. He only focused on the way Karkat's wrapped around his fingers, leaving a warm wet translucent red all over the place. Karkat's body felt hot, his cheeks and ears flushed with arousal as he prided his eyes open to glance down at what was being done to him. His throat tightened and he licked his lips, crimson focusing on the pale hand moving along his bulge in the most perfect way.
He wanted to speak; To call out John's name but his throat was too tight and the sounds being pulled out of him by a skilled hand were all he was capable of making. So, he tilted his head, nuzzling against the bridge of John's nose until the human finally lifted his head. When their lips met it was a clash of tongue and teeth and less lip than it probably should have been. But neither seemed to care. Karkat's hand shifted from John's thigh to dig into short dark hair and grip pulling him closer with no chance of escape.
Slowly, they came down. Their lips settling together as John's hand moved slowly over Karkat's twisting bulge. Karkat lapped at John's lower lip, pressing closer till he could slip inside and get a good taste of him. John let out a deep moan that made Karkat shiver, tugging on his hair till they were as close as could be. He focused on their lips, sliding together and pressing at different angles. It was sweet and a little romantic if not for the fact that John's hand was slowly sliding away from Karkat's bulge till his fingers could press along the lips of his nook.
Karkat gasped, pulling his lips away from John as his hand slipped from soft hair to brush along a strong jaw. His body twisted enough so he could lift one leg, parting his thighs as an open invitation to the human who was more than willing to take it. Karkat's leg hooked over John's legs, giving the human all the room he needed to run two of his fingers over the wet lips of Karkat's nook. Karkat urged him on with soft purrs and chirps, his claws brushing over John's cheek gently.
Carefully, gently, John pushed past the plump grey skin of Karkat's nook to feel the inside, hot and wet with folds of skin welcoming him in. It was nothing Karkat had felt before. Claws were not something a troll wanted down in that area but John didn't have claws. He had blunt nails with skilled hands that rubbed against his nook like they were made to do so. He let out a gasp, his thighs twitching and his bulge curling desperately against his stomach. He pulled his hand away from John's elbow so he could wrap fingers around his bulge, tugging it and easing its frantic nature.
He didn't notice the rhythmic movement of John's hips until that teasing finger finally slipped inside him. Pleasure sparked along his skin and that warm hard blunt bulge became a noticeable thing, rubbing against his backside and gaining his attention. With a grunt, he pulled his hand away from John's face so he could reach between them and wrap fingers around the warm thick flesh, careful of his claws.
That seemed to spark something inside John.
The hero let out a deep groan from the back of his throat and buried his face in Karkat's neck, his grip on the troll's hair still tight as his finger moved in and out of the troll, rubbing along his inner walls in a way that made Karkat purr with pleasure. Karkat could only handle so much. His bulge writhed in his fingers while John's bulge slipped between his fingers with every jerk of those pale hips. He squeezed both gently, his back tensing and his thighs pulsing as John slipped inside another finger.
"John." He managed so say through a tight throat. "Please. Oh fuck please."
John lifted his head enough so lust-dark blue could meet glowing crimson. There was something dark in John's expression. Something that Karkat was sure he had seen before but couldn't place it. He didn't have time to analyze over it either. A smirk curled to those kiss plump lips as John's eyes flicked down to Karkat's panting mouth.
"Please what?" His voice was husky with pleasure to the point that it made Karkat moan.
"Holy mother-grub, John, pail me. Pail me like you were made to do it. Like this was made to pail me senseless." He gasped, his eyes slipping shut as he gave John's bulge a good tug, earning a sharp hiss from the hero.
John didn't say any more. He only dipped his head into Karkat's neck to bit down hard and shove his two fingers deeper inside Karkat's nook. The troll let out a surprised yelp, his leg tightening around John's and it took him a moment to notice the abrupt knocking coming from somewhere. John's movements didn't stop, he didn't want them to stop, he wanted so much more. But something tugged him toward that knocking and before he knew it, that knocking was the only thing he could hear.
Crimson eyes snapped open and his head spun at the flush of arousal sparking along his body. He grunted and rubbed at his eyes, hissing as he quickly got to his feet and shoved away the blanket wrapped around his body. He stumbled before he snatched open his cabin door and gave the hero standing on the other side a well deserved glare.
"Morning Karkat!"
"Ugh, why do you bother fucking knocking anymore." He hissed, turning away from John so he could collapse back onto his bed, curling up as he nuzzled into his pillow.
"Cause it's rude not to?" John answered, tilting his head as he shut the door behind him. He tugged off the hat from his head and shook fresh snow off his hero clothes. "Besides, I thought you might still be asleep. And I don't know, it's just really rude to walk in on someone sleeping."
"I'm your moirail." Karkat mumbled, lifting his head to toss John a look.
"Yeah, well, still." The smiling hero gave a shrug before he sat down on the edge of the bed beside Karkat's legs. "You seem grumpy. Sorry, I woke you." He smiled sympathetically as he pat Karkat's back gently.
Karkat rolled his eyes and settled his head back onto the pillow, the remnants of his dream still sparkling along his skin. He could feel the wetness between his legs and he pondered taking a bath. Really, he wished he had a chance to handle the arousal in his body before John showed up but there was nothing he could do about it now.
"Hey Karkat." John mumbled as he leaned down to the troll, his feet dangling off the bed. "You okay?"
"Yeah." One hand snatched out to paw at John's face as he rolled to his side, earning an amused sound from the hero.
"Okay." John moved close, putting their faces close together till all Karkat could see was beautiful crystal blue. "I can stay tonight."
Karkat grunted, lifting his hand to slip claws into slightly damp jet hair. "Yeah? I need a bath." He pointed out, crimson only glancing down once before they met in a soft kiss that left the troll's body tingling. He grit his teeth, hoping that reaction was solely based on his arousal and nothing more. He didn't want to think about what it could mean if that reaction was from something else.
John hummed when he pulled away, licking at his lips. "We could stay at my place then. Casey will want to come over though if she knows you're there."
"That's fine." Karkat shrugged and his hand fell from John's hair so he could sit up.
"Yeah but." John's lips pursed for only a second as he watched Karkat sit up and run claws through his messy hair.
"But what?"
"I want you to myself."
With a perked brow, Karkat looked over John's flushed face before letting out a laugh. "Wow, John."
The hero chuckled as he reached forward to wrap his arms around Karkat's bare shoulders. "Don't 'wow, John' me." He mumbled, pressing his lips to a flushed pointed ear. "You've been playing with Casey in the snow for the past three days. It's my turn."
Karkat snorted, bringing up a hand to pat John's arm soothingly. "You want to play with me John?"
The hero's face flushed about as red as Karkat's blood. "What?"
He chuckled and slipped out of those strong arms so he could stand up. "We going or what? I want that bath pretty soon." He wiggled his hips, feeling the wetness inside and was grateful he slept in pants because the last thing he wanted John to see was his bulge that was halfway out and curling against his hip curiously.
"Yeah, Yeah." John moved to his feet as well before snatching up his hat to stuff back on his head. "Put some warm clothes on and we'll go."
Karkat nodded and moved to toss on one of John's old green sweaters. The sooner he dressed, the sooner he could have a hot bath and feel less likely to jump the next thing that even bothered to look at him in lust. Mainly John. He didn't want to jump John just because he felt aroused. They were moirails, sure, but not those kind of moirails and Karkat intended to keep it that way.
As much as John adored his daughter there was a part of him that secretly wished he was able to have more time alone with Karkat. It was selfish and he knew that so it wasn't something he expressed often; if at all. He was happy that two of his important people got along so well. Karkat was great with Casey and Casey adored the troll to the point that she had asked Annabelle if Karkat could be her other daddy. It was heartwarming but still; John enjoyed his alone time with Karkat.
Casey was covered from head to toe and the only amount of skin that could be seen was her cold flushed face. Karkat was bundled the same thanks to John's fear of the troll getting sick again. The only amount of grey skin that could be seen was flushed red thanks to the cold and though Karkat had complained when John bundled him up, the troll did not stop him. A few boys from the village ran about in the snow with Karkat, whose expression was so tender it made John's heart ache.
"Hero!" Casey hopped up to John, her feet dipping into the too deep snow as she reached for the blue clad hero.
John laughed as he reached for her, picking her up effortlessly to rest against his hip. The sun was low in the sky, giving them warmth they needed in the brisk air. "Did you escape the troll?"
Casey giggled in his arms, her eyes bright as she glanced between him and the troll who was still chasing a few boys. "Can we build a snowman?"
"Sure we can." He put her back onto her feet so she could run off to gather the snow for their snowman.
"Karkat! We're gonna build a snowman!" Casey called to the troll who paused at the call of his name.
"We wanna help too!" One of the boys called and the group of four ran over to Casey to help her start rolling up a ball.
Karkat was panting softly when he stepped up to John, rubbing at his red nose with the back of his mitten. "How are they not freezing yet?"
"They're kids." John shrugged, reaching forward to tug at Karkat's hat, making sure it was still in place. "Are you freezing?"
"I'm fine. It gets colder than this in Alternia." He leaned into John, his eyes on the children as he allowed his moirail to pamper him.
John's cool fingertips brushed over a flushed grey cheek before he leaned forward to plant a soft kiss there. "You're really good with them."
"What did you expect?" Karkat shrugged, his crimson eyes shifting to meet John's crystal blue.
He shrugged, letting his hand rest over the small of Karkat's back. "Want to help them?"
"Casey!" Annabelle suddenly called, her head popping out of the house they were all playing outside of. "It's time to clean up for dinner!"
"Aww." Casey whined with a chorus from the boys around her. "Okay!" She gave each boy a pat on the head as a goodbye before running up to the two men standing near her home. "Dinner time! Are you coming?"
John glanced at Karkat before shaking his head. "I'm going to take Karkat and get him all warmed up." He smiled as he leaned down to pick her up. "But we'll see you tomorrow, Okay?"
"Okay!" She giggled, planting a kiss to John's cheek before reaching for Karkat who took her without a second thought. "Be good." She patted the palms over her mittens over Karkat's cheeks with a grin on her face.
"You too, you little monster." He teased, crinkling his nose as he nuzzled into her cheek.
Casey let out a squeal of happiness as she papped Karkat's cheeks before the troll finally put her back on her feet. She bid them both goodbye before she ran off to her mother waiting for her. They watched the two disappear into the house with a warm feeling in their chests. The group of boys grumbled about before they decided to head home as well. The sun would set soon and the air was turning cooler already.
"How exactly are you planning on warming me up?" Karkat pondered, turning back toward John's cabin with the hero trailing along beside him.
John slipped an arm around the troll's shoulder, tucking him close against his side as they walked down the sloped snow-covered path. "I was thinking a change of clothes and some hot chocolate."
Karkat's ears twitched under the green wool cap he wore. "Hot chocolate?"
He chuckled and leaned close to nuzzle into the side of the troll's head. "Yeah. Maybe a warm bath?"
The troll hummed, leaning into the hero. "My toes are freezing. One of those snot-nosed boys stuffed snow down my pants." He hissed through his fangs as he wrapped his arms around his chest. "Little fucker, I should have kicked him."
John snorted softly. "Well, It's a good thing you didn't. A warm bath it is then."
When they reached John's cottage, Karkat was quick to enter and stand near the fire, pulling off his snow-damp clothes as John shut the door behind them, locking out the cold. John moved to start warming up some water on the stove for their bath as Karkat stripped down to his under clothes of a simple shirt and pants. He draped his wet clothes over the back of a chair near the fire so they would dry before he planted his bum on the floor in front of the fire.
By the time the tub was full of hot water and John was busy removing his damp clothes, Karkat felt warm enough from sitting in front of the fire. But he had no intention of turning down a warm bath with John. They were special times for the moirails and Karkat treasured them. He moved away from the fire and wasted no time in dropping his clothes till he was naked. The cottage was toasty warm thanks to the fire and John's magic floating in the air, circulating the warmth throughout.
"You first." Karkat mumbled, sitting down on the edge of the cool tub, his claws scrapping against it gently.
John stumbled over a boot that refused to come off before he removed his pants and underwear, piling them on top of Karkat's discarded clothes. Naked as the day he was born, John strolled over to Karkat and dipped his hand into the water, testing it. Steam rolled off the surface of the water and with a heave, John slipped into the water, sitting down till the water came up to his ribs. Karkat followed after him, splashing a bit of water as he twisted to sit between John's spread legs. It was a common position for them and even the occasional brush of John's bulge against his lower back didn't stir him the least.
The water warmed every part of Karkat's body, from his toes to his ears, the steam caressing his flushed skin. He leaned back into John's open arms, brushing water over their skin in a leisurely manner. John tucked his chin into Karkat's neck, slipping his arms around that lithe waist to pull the troll closer.
"Valentine's Day is coming up." John stated, trying to sound nonchalant even though his heart was pounding in his chest.
"What's that?" The troll perked a brow as he shifted to bring his knees up, running his claws over his grey skin. There was no need to wash. The steaming water was more to warm them both up instead of to clean up. They both had a bath the day before after all. So there was no rush as they relaxed in the tub after a long day of playing in the cold with Casey.
"It's a holiday."
"Another one?" Karkat crinkled his nose, tilting his head back against John's shoulder as he tinkled water over them from the tips of his claws. "You humans have so many pointless celebrations."
John snorted, nuzzling into Karkat's hair, feeling the tips of it curling with the steam. "I wouldn't say it's pointless, Karkat."
"What's it for?"
"Well... Valentine's day is a celebration of love."
The troll paused in trickling warm water over his shoulder before twisting enough to look John in the eye. "What kind of love?"
"All love." John smiled softly, pecking a grey cheek. "Romantic love or family love. All kinds of love. Just a celebration of loving one another on a special day."
"That's pointless." Karkat snorted, turning back around so he could rest against John's chest. "When you love someone, you show it everyday. Not just one day a year."
"Well, Yeah. But remember how I told you during these cold winter months, people need something to look forward to? This is that. The cold and the snow are worse around now before spring finally breaks free. Besides," He shrugged as he squeezed Karkat, "It's nice to do something fun like that."
"If you say so."
John watched as Karkat continued to trickle warm water over their exposed arms and shoulders. He let out a chuckle when the troll reached back to trickle water over John's hair. "Hey Karkat?"
"Hm?"
"I have a question."
"Uh-Huh?"
"How do you feel about the red quadrant?"
Karkat was quiet for a moment before he shifted to look at John over his shoulder. "Why are you asking?"
"I don't know. I'm just curious. It's not something we've ever talked about and I've just been wondering if you... Well, have you ever filled that quadrant with someone?" His tone was innocent enough even though his heart was pounding hard on his chest.
The troll narrowed his eyes as he settled back against John and focused on his hands under the water. "No, I haven't. I've honestly never even tried." He took a deep breath before he continued. "It's not something I ever saw for myself. Never thought another troll would feel that way about me. They either hate me outright or feel some strong amount of pale pity for me that's just sickening at times."
"Eridan..." John chewed his lower lip. "He mentioned Terezi?"
"What did he say?"
"Just that you two had a thing? He wasn't really specific."
Karkat let out a heavy sigh through his nostrils. "Terezi and I did not have a thing. We could have had a thing. Maybe. Possibly. But I learned a long time ago that I work differently than most trolls and she didn't have the patience to deal with that." His lips curled over his fangs as he clawed gently at his thighs. "She turned to Gamzee instead for whatever I couldn't give her."
John perked a brow. "She... Looked really happy to um, taste you."
"That was way before I left Alternia. So it's been a long time. I never faulted her for what she did."
"I guess I can understand that. But if you had feelings for her, didn't it hurt?"
"My feelings for her..." Karkat let out a sigh as he slumped, thunking his head against John's shoulder. "They were red sure, but I knew I wouldn't be a good enough red lover for her. She turned to Gamzee for black. Because no matter what, I wasn't going to give her what she wanted. I couldn't."
"I... I don't understand."
Karkat snorted softly. "I'm a mutant, John."
"I know that? That doesn't explain why you couldn't give her what she wanted."
"Everything about me is red, John. I already told you that shit."
"Like your blood and bodily fluids? Yeah, I know that. What I don't understand is... Oh right." He blinked in surprise. "No one knew back then."
"Ex-fucking-actly. Well, Okay not no one." He sighed, lifting his hand in the air to wave it, dripping water.
"What do you mean 'not no one'? I thought you kept it hidden and no one knew until that incident with Gamzee?"
"Sort of?" Karkat groaned and closed his eyes, his hand dropping back in the water. "Sollux knew."
"What?" John gasped in surprise.
"He never said he knew. But he knew. He had to."
"I'm lost."
"I slept with him."
John's eyes widened and his head reeled back like he'd been slapped. "You what?"
Karkat grit his fangs as he glanced at John. "Don't give me that look."
"No, I, Um." John shook his head the best he could with Karkat's head pressed close to his. "I just, I didn't know that. I thought you said you didn't have a red relationship with anyone. Was... it black?"
"Hell no." Karkat snorted softly. "He and Eridan have been black since before any of us came of age."
"Then...?"
"It's only natural to feel sexual urges, John. I don't know about you useless humans, but sex is a big thing to trolls."
"Well, I mean... Yeah? Humans too I guess. I wouldn't really know."
Karkat perked a brow, his eyes focusing on the flush of those cheeks and the way John avoided his eyes. "Oh."
"Yeah."
Karkat bit into his lower lip before he nuzzled closer into John's neck and shifted to place his hand over John's under the water, resting against the troll's stomach. "We were never red, if that's what you're thinking. You can do those things with someone you don't have feelings for. It's just... about getting off really. That's what it was for us. I told you, I'm a mutant. I'm different. Even if it were red..." Karkat let out a soft sigh, his warm breath cascading over John's flushed cheek. "I'm really fucked up, John."
"What... What do you mean? You're not fucked up, Karkat. Just cause you're different doesn't mean you're broken." He spoke quickly and softly as he squeezed the troll closer. "I like you just the way you are."
"You're a human. Of course you think that way." He mumbled, his lips ghosting over the skin of John's damp neck.
"Yeah well maybe you need a human's perspective sometimes. I am your moirail after all."
"You are." Karkat nodded in agreement, his eyes shutting as he relaxed against his moirail.
"Mhm. So tell me what you mean. If it were really red, then what?"
"Then I wouldn't have slept with him."
John perked a brow. "Why?"
"Because I didn't feel that way about him."
"What?" The hero furrowed his brow in confusion, glancing at the relaxed face beside him. "But you if you were red with him, then you would feel red for him?"
"Not me."
"I don't... Karkat I don't understand. Isn't red all about love and pity?"
"It's more than that, John but I'm glad to see you've actually fucking paid attention to me."
"Then, please, explain it to me. What is the red quadrant to you?"
"Feeling red for someone..." Karkat mused softly, his claws trailing over John's arm slowly under the water. "I don't know. I've never felt it. Not the way it's supposed to anyway. Red is about pity and sexual attraction. You want to be with that person. You want to take care of them but also let them be themselves and see their strengths. But you also want to fill a pail with them and only them. You crave them." His claws dug into the hero's skin at his words making John gasp softly. "You desire them so desperately that once they touch you, it's all you feel you could want again."
John nodded, swallowing hard. "Uh-Huh, that sounds like love." His voice was barely above a whisper.
"I don't feel sexual attraction." Karkat admitted with a scrap of his claws over the back of John's hand.
"You don't?"
"I'm broken."
"That... That doesn't make you broken." John swallowed, tilting his head to nuzzle into the mop of damp black hair on his shoulder.
"To trolls, it does. Be it black, red, or whatever, I've never actually felt that type of attraction for a person."
"But you... with Sollux?"
Crimson eyes peered open, taking in the flush on the hero's cheeks. "You ever feel that urge to do sexual things, John? It's an urge but it's not directed at a certain person? That's having a sex drive. That, I do have. But when you start to feel that way because you want to do those types of things to a specific person, that is sexual attraction. I don't have that. Well, Maybe I do. I don't know. So far, I'm pretty sure I don't. Eridan used to say maybe I needed to have some deep bond with someone before I felt that way but I don't know yet. Haven't formed that deep of a bond with anyone aside from... You."
John blinked in surprise, glancing to meet those sparkling eyes. "Yeah?"
"I don't feel sexual attraction for you, John. We're pale."
The hero shoved down the rush of disappointment that came over him. "Right. Sex isn't a pale thing, huh?"
"Typically, no."
"So... You're not looking for a red relationship?"
"I don't think I can ever have a red relationship."
"Why not?"
Karkat let out a soft sigh as his eyes slid shut once more. "Trolls thrive on their relationships. Aside from the fact that I'm mutant and would get anyone in my quadrants killed for that, I am not capable of giving my mate what they desire. There is a difference between just sex and sex with feelings. I imagine it's not a pleasant feeling to pail someone who doesn't share your desires. Red has never been an option for me because I'm a mutant. It's something I accepted a long time ago."
"But... I mean, Karkat... You really love that romantic stuff."
"So?"
"So, wouldn't you... like to feel it?"
"There is a difference between wanting to feel it and knowing I never will."
John pursed his lips. "You really shouldn't count that out."
"It's not like anyone's really felt red for me anyway. Terezi was probably the only one and that was brief."
"What about humans?"
Crimson eyes snapped open and Karkat lifted his head to give John a confused look. "What the hell do you mean?"
"It's not like trolls are your only options."
"I swear to fuck if you're coming on to me red I will rip out your tongue." Karkat hissed, his heart pounding and his cheeks flushing. There was a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach and though it wasn't unpleasant it still made him feel uncomfortable.
There was a flash of hurt that crossed the hero's expression and left Karkat with a tight, dry throat. "I wasn't saying that... I was just trying to give you a little more hope. But, yeah, I get it. We're pale and that's never going to change. I know."
Something about John's tone made Karkat's chest constrict and he had the sudden urge to kiss him. So he twisted around, one hand sliding over a flushed cheek to tilt the hero's head toward him till their lips could press together. "Don't say that like it's such a horrible thing." He mumbled against John's lips, tingles sparking from way they brushed together.
"It's not." John inhaled, tilting his head a bit more so their lips fit together better. His heart pounded hard in his chest, a warm tight feeling. "I'm lucky to have you in anyway you see fit, Karkat."
"Shut up." He hushed the other, tapping a flushed cheek with two fingers. "I'm the lucky one, numbnuts."
John smiled against Karkat's mouth as he pressed closer, sealing their lips together. His heart swelled and though there was a little pain there, it was overcome with the warmth of Karkat's soft lips and gentle fingers against his face. There was no doubt in the hero's mind that he had to tell Karkat how he felt. Whether things worked out or not, Karkat deserved to know. Besides, John wasn't really sure how much longer he could keep it from the troll. He knew he was obvious enough as it was and part of him thought Karkat was already aware. And maybe the troll was. But John had to tell him because keeping his feelings in would only result in him bursting them out at the wrong time and he sure didn't want to hurt Karkat more than he already probably would.
The soft swipe of a tongue caught Karkat off guard but his lips parted anyway, welcoming in John's curious but gentle tongue. His body flushed with warmth and it took him a moment to realize why as their tongues met in a languid manner. John meant more to Karkat than the troll was willing to admit. He'd come to desire John's company more than any other for the simple fact that he could felt comfortable around him. John was his moirail for a reason. He could open up to the hero without fear of judgment or remorse. That was important. So very important.
"You promised me hot chocolate." Karkat mumbled softly as they parted for breath, his eyes half-lidded with something John had never seen before.
"I did."
Claws trailed into damp strands of hair as he pulled John down for another kiss as if they had all the time in the world for hot chocolate. And really, they did.
John loved the time he spent with Karkat more than anything but he still had so many unanswered questions. Karkat had threatened to hurt him if he was coming onto the troll red and though that was not John's intention at the time, he had to admit that being with Karkat in a red way was quite pleasing to his senses. Karkat had explained to him time and time again what a red relationship was like for a troll and it just left the hero even more confused. If being red meant sexual for Karkat than John wasn't sure what to do.
Of course John had those types of feelings for Karkat. It wasn't something he was unaware of. It started long ago when Karkat first pinned him down to the ground and it only grew from there. But John never pushed it because he was aware how red that was. But Karkat had done those things with someone that he wasn't red for? It confused John more than he would like to admit. He didn't mind Karkat's sexual past. It was a little uncomfortable that John had met Sollux without the knowledge that the troll had been with his moirail but in the end, John knew it was really none of his business. Even if he wanted it to be.
And that was the whole problem. John wanted it to be his business. He wanted Karkat. And not just sexually. Sure, he wanted their little kisses to go a bit farther sometimes but he was never too upset when Karkat pulled away. Touching and kissing were just a regular thing for them and John accepted whatever Karkat was willing to give him. But John knew the difference between wanting to be friends and wanting to be more.
Part of him questioned why he couldn't just be happy with the way things were. He adored Karkat and cherished their relationship. He hated to do anything that may compromise it and his deep feelings could do just that. But because he respected Karkat, he felt the troll deserved to know the feelings John harbored for him. It was only fair and every person he spoke to about it insisted he tell Karkat. He felt it was strange that the one thing he really needed a moirail for, involved said moirail thus he couldn't talk to him about it.
John let out a frustrated growl that made the older woman to his left jump in surprise. He hardly noticed the strange look she gave him before scurrying off to another stand. The young male running the stand John stood in front of only gave the hero a tentative smile as John continued to looking through his wares.
It was barely midday and even with the sun shining in the sky, the air was cool with freshly fallen snow from the night before covering Oakfield. It was a special day that John was too lost in his thoughts to notice too much. Of course, he was planning to do something about it, especially for Casey but Karkat filled most of his thoughts. The troll was on his mind even as he searched for a present to give his daughter.
"If I may?" The young villager spoke softly, leaning to the side as he picked up a teddy bear to show the hero. "Most little girls would love one."
"She already has one." John answered, his mind somewhere else for the time being. "Thank you though."
The young man nodded, putting the bear back down. "Perhaps something different than? Like," he picked up one of the wooden swords, "This."
Blue eyes lit up as he took the toy from the man to look it over. The wood was soft to the touch and sanded down to the point that a child would not have to worry about splinters. It was perfect. Casey wanted to be a hero like him and he wouldn't mind teaching his daughter how to defend herself. It was only a toy but it was a start. "I'll take it."
"Great!"
With his present in hand, John stopped his cabin to pick up a few more things before heading for Annabelle's. He wasn't surprised to see Casey running around in the snow as he came up the hill. The little girl brought a bright smile to his face and helped clear his clouded mind. He noticed Annabelle sitting on a small bench against her home, her eyes fixed on Casey while she was busy knitting another scarf for the little girl. Pink and white from what John could see.
"Hero!" Casey squealed when she noticed him and left behind whatever she was building in the snow to run up to him.
"Casey!" John dropped down to pick up the girl, hugging her as if he had not seen her just the day before. "Happy Valentine's day!"
"Happy Valentine's Day!" She giggled and planted a kiss to his cold flushed cheek as she wiggling in his arms.
"I brought you something." He put her back on her feet before leaning down to her level. He flashed Annabelle a smile when the woman came up to them and stood beside her daughter.
"Oh!" Casey gasped at the offered wooden sword John pulled from his small bag. Her eyes twinkled in excitement and she took the toy carefully between her fingers.
"I figured, even a princess can be a hero." He told her with a bright smile.
"I get to be a hero too?" She asked in awe, her eyes wide as she looked at John like he had given her the most precious thing in the world.
"Of course you do."
"Momma!" She turned to Annabelle, holding out the sword like an offering. "I get to be a hero!"
"You sure do." Annabelle smiled, patting her daughter on the head. "A strong hero princess."
"Here." John reached forward to help Casey hold the sword like a real one. "Now be careful with it. Remember, only resort to sword fighting when you have to."
"Yes!" She nodded enthusiastically, gripping the handle of the wooden sword tightly.
"Dave would be a better teacher." He chuckled softly. "So maybe next time he comes around, He can teach you properly."
"Dave!" Casey bounced in excitement. "Casey will marry Dave one day! He's my prince!" John blinked in surprise at the girl's exclaimed words. "I will make him and papa hero proud!" She nodded to herself before running off in the snow, back to where she had previously been playing.
"Did she just...?"
"John, Dear." Annabelle had the type of tone that reminded John of when Rose was going to tell him something he wasn't ready for. "She's barely six years old." She reminded him, petting his shoulder gently as he stood up straight.
"But she just..."
"John." Annabelle let out a faint laugh as she rubbed a comforting hand over John's back. "She doesn't really plan to marry him."
"She called me papa." He blurted out, unaware of the prickle of tears in his eyes.
Annabelle just smiled, continuing to pet the hero on the back. "She does that quite often actually."
"I... Is that okay?" He was suddenly alarmed, his wide eyes shifting to her.
Annabelle hid a laugh behind her hand as she stepped away from John and watched her daughter run around a snow mound waving the sword in the air. "As long as it's fine with you, it is fine with me. She calls Karkat papa troll. She vaguely remembers her real father and to be honest, I'm more than grateful that she has you and Karkat. Plus Dave and Jade. All of you are part of our family."
John smiled, bright and wide as he pulled out a small bag for Annabelle. "For you."
She blinked in pleasant surprise before she carefully took the leather bag into her mitten covered hands. "You didn't have to."
"Well, You're family too."
She flushed softly as she pulled the strings to open the bag and peered inside. "Oh Casey will love this."
"Its for both of you."
"Thank you, John." She didn't hesitate to lean up on her toes and plant a soft kiss to John's cheek. "You're too good to us."
The hero smiled and gave a full body shrug. "You're welcome."
"Is Karkat coming by later?" She asked, tucking the bag into her coat before moving back toward the bench with John following behind.
"Not that I know of."
"You don't have plans?" She perked a brow as she sat back down and went to work on the little scarf.
"Trolls don't really celebrate human holidays." He answered as he sat down beside her.
"Yes, But he spent Christmas with you. You can't expect me to honestly believe you haven't thought of something for him."
"Well... I mean, I'm not sure what to do." His cheeks flushed as he shifted his eyes to Casey.
Annabelle hummed softly, focusing her eyes on the scarf since she knew John would keep an eye on Casey. "Why don't you invite him over for dinner? Karkat seems like the type to appreciate the small things."
"Are you... suggesting a date?" He glanced at her with wide eyes.
"Something of the sort, yes. It is Valentine's day after all. The two of you may not be a conventional couple but you are still a couple. It's a day to express your love for one another. No matter the type of love. I think he would enjoy something special like that."
"Yeah." John smiled fondly. "Karkat is the romantic type. But I barely know how to cook."
"I can give you a few pointers if you would like."
"That'd be great!"
When Karkat woke, it was just another day for him. Nothing special about it at all. Except he knew it was Valentine's day and a part of him was curious to see if John would do anything about it. Even after their conversation in the tub, nothing had changed between them and though Karkat was grateful for that, he was curious to see if John had been trying to come onto him red. Oddly, despite his reaction, Karkat didn't actually feel all that strongly against the two of them going red. He just knew he wouldn't be a good enough lover for the hero and John deserved better. It was a fact to him.
The troll sat on the edge of his bed, his feet dangling as he ran claws through his mess of hair. He focused on waking up, smacking his lips and breathing in deeply before he noticed the little note on his floor. He stared at it for a full minute before moving to his feet to pick it up. John requested Karkat to come to his cottage as soon as the troll was able. Karkat recognized the hero's handwriting and he wandered what John was planning. He couldn't help the swelling of his heart at the thought that maybe John had done something special for him.
Karkat tossed the note on his table and set to work grooming himself and picking out an outfit he thought was good enough for the occasion. He tried to tell himself it was a normal day and there was nothing special about it but that was a lie and he knew it. He took the time to comb out his hair and cleaned his fangs with extra care. He spent more time than he ever had picking out an outfit. Something buried deep in the bottom of his dresser. Something Kanaya made him and he never thought he'd have a purpose for it. The jade troll obviously thought otherwise and he was grateful for that.
The vest was simple for the most part; made out of a soft warm dark material that felt good against Karkat's skin. It fit him perfectly, hugging him around the waist and showing the bit of hips he actually had. As much as he loved how John's clothes hung from his frame, it felt nice to wear something so form-fitting and made with love from his favorite female troll. The outfit almost felt a little too nice to wear but it was a special day so he tried not to let it get to him too much.
He wore a dark thin long sleeved shirt beneath the vest-like top that came up around his throat with a buckle. The silver designs throughout the vest reminded Karkat how long it had been since he last wore something made by her. Her skills had greatly increased and he felt a sense of pride for her as he looked himself over. If not for the under-shirt, his shoulders and a good chunk of his back would be seen and it was much too cold for that. The pants were simple black and just as form-fitting as the rest of the outfit. He brushed down the front of the vest, trailing his claws over the details gently for a few seconds before he snatched up his boots and laced them on.
He debated stuffing a hat on his head after all the effort he went through to make his hair actually look presentable for once so he opted just to throw the hood of his cloak over his hair. The cloak was thick and warm, covering his body from the cold and any prying eyes. Though Karkat was pretty sure everyone in Oakfield knew he was a troll thanks to Casey running around proclaiming it as often as she could.
Karkat smiled fondly at the thought of the young girl as he left his cabin, shutting the door behind him. The trek into Oakfield wasn't too far but he did wish John had just come to pick him up instead. Flying was so much easier. He shook his head at the thought. He never thought he'd enjoy flying in a million years but as long as he was with John, he was willing to do almost anything. Flying became as natural to him as walking or breathing. John had changed a lot in Karkat's life and there wasn't a thing he regretted about it.
With the sun nearly set and the world being cast in a soft glow of the moon, the air grew quiet and cold. Karkat marched on, following a familiar path that was covered in freshly fallen snow. As he crossed into Albion, there was an obvious difference in the air and he was vaguely surprised to see a few snowflakes starting to fall. He pressed on a little quicker before it grew too cold and the snow fell heavier.
Oakfield was lit with lanterns that made Karkat pause before stepping out of the forest. Strung along the pathways were lanterns, hanging from string and in all shapes and colors. As if there was a festival going on. Karkat considered that perhaps there was from the sound of music and laughter coming from the Sandgoose. It was a holiday after all.
So with a shrug and a tug of his cloak, Karkat followed the lanterns that lit his way toward John's cottage. The falling snow gave a peaceful aura to the village as Karkat made his way through it. He could see the lights on inside the warm homes with families celebrating and having a good ol' time. It brought a faint smile to his face to see the people of Albion able to live so carefree because of the heroes they were blessed with. He could only hope that one day, Alternia would have the same fate. For the sake of his friends more than anyone.
John's cottage looked more warm and inviting than it ever had and as Karkat made his way up the small slope, his chest started to swell with warmth. He swallowed hard as he approached the wooden door and though he could see the flickering of the fire dancing along the curtains from the inside, he couldn't actually see into the cottage. With one hand curled to his chest he took the time to knock three times on the door.
When John opened the door, Karkat was momentarily stunned by the bright beautiful smile on the hero's face. "Karkat!" John greeted, rubbing his hands clean on a small towel tucked into the pocket of his black pants. Black. Karkat had to blinked a few times before he registered John was not wearing his Hero garb. He wore a clean form-fitting blue button up shirt that really brought out the color of his skin and eyes. His outfit was simple but there was something about it that made the troll's heart thump.
"John." He greeted with much less enthusiasm but the flush on his cheeks was all John needed.
"Come in, come in." The hero quickly wrapped an arm around Karkat's waist and pulled the troll inside the warm cottage before shutting the door behind him. "Food'll be done in a minute."
"Food?" Karkat perked up, his eyes focused on John as he unclipped the cloak from around his neck. "John you..." The words fell from Karkat's lips and settled in his stomach when his eyes shifted away to glance around the cottage.
Lit candles were scattered around the place, giving the cottage a warm glow. The air smelled of something savory and a little bit sweet and when crimson eyes landed on the table in the middle of the cottage, Karkat's heart leaped in his throat. Dinner for two. By candlelight.
"John.."
"I know, okay, I know." John rambled on quickly, moving to block Karkat's view of the cottage. When crimson eyes jumped up to him, the hero inhaled deeply to gain the courage to continue. "But, valentine's day is about love. It doesn't manner what kind of love just love. And you're my moirail and pale love is still love so even if we're not red, we can still celebrate it, can't we?" Karkat could only stare in surprise at the awkwardly shifting hero. "Cause... we've never really done anything special celebrating that we're moirails and I know this relationship is really important to the both of us and I just... wanted to do something nice?"
With the flick of a wrist, Karkat removed his hood and let his cloak slip of his shoulders to the floor. Crystal blue jumped all over the troll, taking in his outfit with a flush of appreciation before Karkat wrapped his arms around John's neck, claws slipping into his hair and pulled him down so their lips could meet. The pressure was soft and a bit warm and Karkat pulled away before John even had the chance to return it though he kept them close.
"You spoil me." Karkat's voice rolled with a faint purr, his eyes practically glowing in the candlelight as John knocked their foreheads together. "Keep spoiling me like this and you'll never fucking get rid of me."
A smile broke across the hero's face as he leaned down to press a soft kiss to Karkat's lips. "I have no intention of ever getting rid of you, Karkat." His serious tone sent a strange shiver down Karkat's spine.
"Course not. You'd be hopeless without me." The troll teased, a soft smile curling to his full lips with a fang or two peeking out as he toyed with John's hair.
"So you're not mad?"
Karkat snorted softly, letting his hands fall away from the hero before he dipped down to pick up his cloak and toss it over the coat rack. "You did something sweet. Why would I be mad?"
"Okay, Good. I've never really cooked before but I tried my best. Oh! The chicken!" John quickly spun around and hurried into the kitchen to check on whatever he was cooking in the stove.
The troll chuckled softly as he moved to follow John. "You cooked for me? Well, aren't you just the perfect little wife."
John's cheeks flushed as he pulled out the chicken from the stove and placed it on the counter. "I thought it would be nice."
"It is nice." Karkat mumbled, bumping John's hip with his as he peered at the chicken with his arms crossed over his chest. "Though, I do hope you know what you're doing."
"Annabelle gave me a few tips. And I've watched Jane and Rose enough to have a rough idea of what I'm doing. I make no promises it will be perfect."
Karkat shrugged. "You made it so I'm confidant it will be edible."
John chewed on his lower lip before he slipped an arm around Karkat's waist to pull the troll into his side. "You look really nice, Karkat."
"So do you."
John grinned, nuzzling into soft black hair, managing to not mess it up too bad. "Like really nice, Karkat." His fingers trailed over the back of the vest before rubbing upwards to press over the collar around his neck.
"Kanaya made it. I thought you might be planning something so I came prepared."
"I like it."
"Good." He nudged John's side, glancing up in time to see the intent in John's eyes. He dipped his head back as John bent down so their lips could slide together. It was effortless and easy. As their kisses always were. But it made something deep inside Karkat burn and that was in no way typical. He let out a soft breath, pressing a bit closer to deepen the kiss before he pulled away, out of John's grasp. "Will it be done soon?"
"Ah, Um, yeah." John swallowed past the lump in his throat and the heat in his stomach from that kiss. A kiss even he knew felt a little different. "It's done now actually. Go ahead and sit down."
Karkat moved to do as was asked of him, sitting down in one of the two chairs around the table. He noticed the candles, two of them on either side with a small bowl of what looked to be flower petals in the middle. His cheeks flushed at the gesture and his heart swelled with the knowledge that John had went through so much just to do something special for them. It wasn't the first time the hero had done so either. Karkat knew how lucky he was. He had no illusions about that.
John shuffled over with two plates in his hands, a shy smile on his face as he placed them down; one in front of Karkat and the other across from him. Karkat was sure he'd never see John look so nervous before. He perked a brow at the food piled neatly on his plate. A chunk of chicken, the breast from what Karkat could tell and his favorite part of the bird. Then some corn, mashed potatoes and a few strawberries. John was sitting, chewing on his bottom lip nervously when Karkat glanced up at him.
"You went all out, huh?"
The hero shrugged awkwardly, stuffing his hands in his lap as he gauged Karkat's face for some type of reaction. "It's a special occasion."
The troll hummed. "Thank you John. Really. But you should have said something. I would have helped you."
John shook his head. "I wanted to do it on my own. For you. For us." He twisted to tug out a long glass bottle from a bucket that was full of snow. The wine had been a Christmas gift from Rose and John felt it was a a special enough occasion to pop it open. The cork came out with a flick of his wrist and he poured a decent amount in the two glasses set out for the two of them.
"It's really... sweet." Karkat mumbled, the rounds of his cheeks flushed red and even the tips of his ears poking from his hair were red.
"I'm glad you think so." He pushed one glass toward Karkat before stuffing the bottle back into the snow to keep it chilled. Then he picked up his own glass and with a blush on his face tilted it toward Karkat. "To us?"
The troll swallowed past the lump in his throat as his claws wrapped around the glass and lifted it to click against John. "To us."
A smile curled to John's lips as he sipped the wine, his eyes focused on the troll across the table from him. Karkat flushed, a swirl of heat filling his stomach as he brought the red liquid to his lips to taste. It was sweet. Sweeter than he expected but wasn't all that bad. But even when he put it down and they dug into their food, there was a strange taste left in his mouth that had nothing to do with the wine or John's surprisingly nice cooking.
Karkat watched with a full stomach and a heavy heart as John cleared their empty plates away to dump in the kitchen sink. He sipped his wine with thoughts spinning around in his head while his eyes followed John. The curve of his cheek, his jawline, down his neck, over his broad shoulders and down to a slim but firm waist then over toned thighs and with those form-fitting pants Karkat had a lovely view of a nice rump. John was attractive. There was no denying that. There was never any denying that. The hero was handsome. Karkat was highly aware of that. But even so, he never felt specifically attracted to John's looks. It was always more... John he was attracted to. Not his looks per say but the person.
"Hey Karkat?" John leaned back against the counter, his cheeks slightly flushed and his posture a little tense. "I know it's cold but, would you like to go for a walk?"
The troll perked a brow, taking in John's expression before nodding. He was no fool. He could read John like any one of his books and sure there were times he just couldn't figure out what the hero was thinking but this was not one of those times. He finished off his glass before getting to his feet. "A walk sounds good."
John lit up and pushed away from the counter so they could huddle by the door and bundle up. "Is your cloak warm enough? You could wear one of mine?"
Karkat nodded, slipping the cloak over his shoulders and buckled it around his neck. "It's much more warm than it appears."
"Okay." John tugged on his hero tunic over his shirt to keep him warm but didn't bother to put anything else on. He opened the door for Karkat and then followed the troll out into the cool night air. He shut the door behind them and was slightly glad to see the snow had decided to stop for the time being.
Karkat pressed close to the hero's side, barely touching him but close enough that John could feel the heat coming off of him. They shared a small smile before heading off down the pathway, the snow crunching beneath their boots. They were silent as they walked, taking in the cool night air and how nice it felt against their flushed faces.
It was no surprise when they turned toward the beach and ended up walking along the soft waves on the snow sprinkled beach. They kept close to one another and by the time they were a good deal down the beach, away from cottages and any on lookers, John's hand slipped into Karkat's spreading warmth over their chilled bodies.
"Karkat?"
"Mhm?"
"I... I need to talk to you about something." The words were spoke on the wind and made a cold peddle of anticipation drop into the troll's stomach.
"Okay."
John chewed on his lower lip as he brought them to a stop. "Um, Why don't we sit?"
"Sure."
The hero took a deep breath as he watched the troll tuck the cloak under his rump before sitting down in the sand. John sat down beside him less elegantly with his legs crossed before him while Karkat just pulled his knees to his chest. John's heart was pounding hard in his chest and his blood rushed making his head spin but he had to do it. He had do it before he lost the amount of courage he had gained.
Karkat remained silent, his eyes focused on the ocean spread out before them. Even in the cool night air, he felt very warm thanks to the blue eyes focused on him and the way they made his stomach churn. It wasn't uncomfortable; it was just different.
"Karkat." Crimson met swirling blue, a storm brewing deep within those beautiful ocean eyes. "I'm in love with you." Though the words fell from John's lips like stones, they were spoken from his heart and though Karkat had been slightly expecting them, his eyes still widened considerably and his cheeks flushed as dark as the wine they consumed earlier. "I know..." John continued, swallowing hard as he glanced away from the troll to look at the ocean. "I know it's not... okay. Because we're moirails and I know you might feel betrayed by my feelings but... They happened and I couldn't exactly stop them. I... I am sorry, Karkat. I've liked you from... pretty much since we met. I didn't realize it till recently but... I didn't want to keep it from you. I figured you at least deserved to know. I don't..." He closed his eyes as he drug a hand through his hair. "I don't expect anything by telling you this. I just... wanted to tell you."
Karkat was quiet for a long time. After the initial shock of John's confession warred down into a warm tingling feeling in his chest he found a strange surge of anger boiling deep inside. He did feel betrayed. But he pushed it down because John was right. Feelings were feelings and Karkat knew John couldn't help it. Though really, it left the troll reeling. Why? How? How could John have those feelings for him? He wasn't... He wasn't anything special.
The words were something Karkat had felt coming but he was in no way prepared to handle them. John was his moirail. Someone he had decided to open up to after so long of being on his own. He didn't regret it but, perhaps it was his own fault. He had not drawn a firm enough line between them and humans didn't have quadrants. It was his fault and he felt incredibly guilty over it. He didn't mean to lead John on. That was the last thing he had meant to do. And even if there were red feelings swirling around in his fucked up heart, that didn't mean he was ready to be that way with the hero.
"I'm not ready for that." Was all Karkat was able to say through his tight throat.
John glanced at him in surprise, his eyes wide and filled with a sense of hope that made the troll's stomach drop. "You're not... That's not a turn down, Karkat."
"I know." He answered honestly before letting out a frustrated sigh and dug a hand into his hair as he pressed a cheek to his knee, watching John with unreadable shimmering eyes. "It's the most honest answer I can give you, okay? Yeah, I'm a bit ticked off and feel a little bit betrayed but I'm not unreasonable. I just... I'm not ready."
"I... I can wait till you are." John answered just as honestly, raising a hand to brush over the back of Karkat's neck, beneath the color of his vest.
The troll didn't move to stop the hero from rubbing gentle soothing caresses into his neck. "I can't... I can't ask that of you."
"You're not." He smiled tenderly, shifting a bit closer to the troll until he could lean close to press his lips to a warm cheek. "I know it's... I mean... Fuck." He let out a soft chuckle, nuzzling into soft black hair as Karkat let his eyes slip shut.
"I want us to stay as we are. But... I should have drawn a clearer line."
"Karkat. You have to know, I'm happy with whatever you give me."
"That doesn't make me feel any fucking better." He hissed softly, his lip curling over his fangs. "If anything it makes me feel worse."
"I'm sorry." John whispered softly, resting his chin on Karkat's shoulder, his fingers still rubbing Karkat's neck gently.
"I don't think I can ever give you want you want."
"Because of how you consider yourself broken? Karkat, sex doesn't define a relationship. Not to humans. But Karkat, I'm okay with that. Staying moirails is more than I could ever ask for. You're... You're just precious to me."
Grey cheeks flushed darkly as he peeked open his eyes to gauge the face only inches away. "You're precious to me too, John."
"Then we're okay? Because... honestly, all I could ever want is to keep you by my side. Be it as a friend or a moirail or a lover. You..." He bit into his lower lip.
"The hole. I fill it. I know. Jade told me."
Heat flushed up John's neck. "She what?"
A small smirk curled to Karkat's lips. "It's kinda sweet, you know."
John let out a small noise of defeat as he thunked his forehead against Karkat's shoulder, his hand slipping down the troll's neck to rest over his lower back. "Damnit Jade."
Karkat twisted, slipping his hands over John's cheeks till he could pull the human closer. The angle was awkward and they didn't exactly fit together properly but it didn't stop him from sliding their lips together. John's fingers curled against Karkat's back as he pressed closer, their lips moving together slowly, sensually.
"We're okay." Karkat mumbled when he pulled away, his eyes glowing in the moonlight and setting John's heart aflame. The hero just nodded and nuzzled into the troll's warm neck, his fingers clinging to the others cloak as his heart swelled in his throat.
It was obvious to Karkat that John felt loads better after his confession. He was less tense than he had been and even a bit more affectionate but not in a way that bothered the troll. John was relieved to get his feelings off his chest and still have Karkat by his side. But Karkat was losing his mind. He cared for John deeply. The hero was his moirail and had done a lot for him the past months they had been together. Karkat could never deny how precious John was to him and maybe it was selfish but he wasn't willing to get rid of the hero just because he harbored red feelings for Karkat.
Karkat couldn't help but question what being red for them would even mean. What would change? Would anything change? And even then; How long before John grew sick of him? How long before John came to realize just how fucked up Karkat truly was? Yet even so, Karkat knew John was a better man than that. John knew the troll at his worst and he still stuck around. There was something special about that and Karkat couldn't ignore it.
Like he told John, red was not a quadrant Karkat ever saw for himself. At one point in time, Terezi had been an option, sure. He felt those feelings for her but they were mushed together with something else he couldn't ever explain and even then, he never had the urge to push her down and ravish her like she wanted. Sure, he could do it. But there was a difference between having the ability to do something and doing something because he wanted to.
He never blamed her for going to Gamzee. He was never hurt by it either. It was black after all but it had ended whatever chance at red the two of them ever had. Gamzee never seemed to understand that but even so, Karkat never blamed him either. When it came to relationships, Karkat just accepted them as they were. He spent more time invested in his pale relationships anyway and with Gamzee, he didn't have the time to put into something red.
But now...
Karkat let out a soft sigh as he tossed the journal he was writing in to the side and tossed an arm over his eyes. He could feel a head ache coming on with all his thoughts rambling together. John could continue on as if he had never confessed a single thing to Karkat but the troll wasn't capable of doing that. Of course he was going to think about it. John had red feelings for him. And not just any red feelings. John told him he was in love with him. Karkat didn't know all that much about humans but he knew enough to know that was a big fucking deal.
"Fuck." He grumbled, sitting up abruptly and making his head spin. "What the fuck am I doing?" He hissed, pushing off the bed so he could stand and shuffle over to his dresser. He tugged open a drawer, glaring at the sickles waiting patiently for him before pushing them to the side to snatch up the beautiful necklace hidden under some clothes.
The troll held up the necklace by the chain, his eyes focusing on the jewel as it twisted in the air. His chest felt tight and his head foggy as he stared at the necklace. It held so much importance to the troll and proved everything he had never wanted to know. John was special. More than just a hero and more than just his moirail. There was a deep bond formed between the two of them and yet he was almost certain John had no memory of it. Perhaps because he was so young when it happened but it still stung a bit that John didn't seem to remember. They were precious memories to the troll and brought up feelings he had never felt before.
Karkat took a deep breath and shuffled back to his bed, sitting down as he cradled the jewel in his palm. He didn't hesitate when he slipped the necklace over his head and fell back, one arm spread out to the side while the other held the jewel between claws to lift up and gaze at. It was a beautiful jewel that changed his life in more ways than one.
He thought of John. He thought of the young boy who healed his broken heart and gave him a reason to continue living on. He thought of that bright smile and the first time he saw the boy fly. He thought of the first time he met John. The hero practically stalking him and making every alarm within the troll spark. He thought of the things they went through and how close they had become. He thought of John's eyes and his smile and his kisses. He thought of how nice it felt when the human touched him, be it gently or otherwise.
He let out a soft puff of air when heat flushed over his body and swirled in the pit of his stomach. His eyes widened as he shifted, squeezing his thighs together at the heat that formed between them. He thought of John's kisses and how their bodies fit together. He thought of the strange dream he had not long ago and how it tried to continue every time he fell asleep. He let out a soft groan, dropping the jewel on his chest as he rolled to his side. He curled up, tucking his head into his arm as a small pathetic noise came from the back of his throat at the way his body flared to life with heat.
No matter what, Karkat knew one thing.
He had to tell John about the necklace. And soon. |
“This party is gonna suck ass. I don’t feel like going out tonight, why can’t you just leave me here to die, Mika? Leave me here to watch Netflix and gorge myself on pizza in peace.”
“Big-brother is such a fucking buzzkill.” Mikasa sighed as she adjusted the hood of the hoodie she wore under her coat. The lame cat ears on the kitty-cat hoodie Eren had gotten her for Christmas were pissing me off- She looked almost innocent, and it was kinda scary. “I can’t let you stay home on New year's Eve! That’d be fucking lame.”
“Quit saying fucking.” That’s my thing.
“Hanji’s party is gonna be fucking awesome.”
“Whatever,” I grumbled. My phone buzzed in the front pocket of my jeans. “Mike’s outside.”
We rushed outside into Mike’s waiting, warm car. Thank fuck. It’s cold as balls tonight.
“Hey, babe,” Mike greeted me.
Gross. “Hey, Fuckface.”
“Sorry I meant, hey, Gremlin.”
“Fuck off.”
“I’m here too.”
“How are you tonight, Mikasa?”
“Could be better. My brother’s being a whiny pussy.”
“Shut your fuck up, Mikasa.”
“Nah.”
Hanji’s placed looked much like it did on Halloween, except there were Christmas lights and shit rather than skeletons. The inside was different, less rave imitating, more house party-ish. Sadly, no bartenders (hopefully still plenty of booze). Also, lots more confetti and streamers for that awful New Years charm. It was still early, so not much people were around yet.
Hanji stood chatting with the DJ of the night as he set up and shit. “Oh, oh guys!” She called as she spotted us. She ran over to us with the grace of a speed snorting gazelle (not really very graceful at all).
“Who’s ready to ring in the new year?!”
Mikasa cheered, Mike whooped. I didn’t really understand their enthusiasm. I’d still rather be in bed.
“Fuck the new year.”
“Don’t be such a grouch.” Mike kicked me from behind, foot digging painfully into my ass.
“Hey!” I whipped around to glare at him, but Hanji turned me away.
“Aw wittle wevi will feel better after we get some alcohol in him,” Hanji said as she squeezed my cheeks.
“Get your filthy hands off me.”
“My hands are clean! See?” She licked the palm of her right hand.
What. The. Fuck. I shivered in disgust, eyes wide.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Guests poured in, in pairs and groups. Hanji dragged me around as she greeted everybody but I didn’t mind much since I had, in both hands, a red solo cup filled of questionable substances and I’m pretty sure one of them was more than a half full cup of straight vodka.
“Eren!” Hanji shouted across the room, waving wildly.
I looked up to see Eren had just walked in with Erwin. Ugh why is he always with him? (I mean it’s not like they’re boyfriends or anything. Ahhaha I’m suddenly thirsty, another three gulps of this shit…)
“Hanji, Levi. How’re you tonight?”
“Great! I’m so excited to ring in the new year. Ne, Eren, aren’t you excited? Huh, huh? What about you, Erwin? You’re excited, yes?”
Erwin smiled that annoying ass perfect teethed fake smile of his. “Of course.”
“Sure,” Eren said.
“What better way to ring in the new year than with my lovely boyfriend,” Erwin said. He pulled Eren tighter to his side, kissed his temple. A faint blush bloomed across the brunette's cheeks.
Fuckin’ gag me. “Oh no I need another drink,” I announced after I threw back the clearish liquid that felt like it burned my fucking esophagus on the way down. Yet it doesn't hurt as much as my heart. sob fucking sob.
“Wha, but you’re other cup…?” Hanji pointed out.
I glared, threw the remaining liquid over my shoulder, crushed the empty cup in my hand and high-tailed it to the kitchen. Anything to escape Erwin’s stupid heart eyes. Eren’s cute when he blushes, I should be making Eren blush…
“Are you alright?” Mike asked as he leaned against the kitchen counter, watching me mix a drink.
“Is anybody alright? We’re dying as we speak, leading such sad lives as we wither away without going after the things we truly want in life, simply because we fear rejection. Also, I still really want pizza."
“Uh...okay.”
“You know,” Hanji hiccuped over her drink, “New Years is great! A new year for new beginnings...fresh starts and all that shit,” she said.
“Yeah, I can find someone to love,” Mikasa muttered bitterly. “Someone who fucking cherishes me!” She slammed her cup down on the table.
“Hey, shitty fucking little sister, tone it down.”
“Fuck off, Pipsqueak.”
“I mean, it’s a whole new year! You could become a different person if you wanted! Quit bad habits. Pick up bad habits! You could decided to shave your head, get a tattoo...oh! Get your dick pierced!” Hanji shouted.
“You could do all that shit anytime you want,” I scoffed. For example, I could jump out the fucking window right now if I wanted...fuck your new years bullshit.
“So you’re saying you’d be up to get your dick pierced right now?” Hanji questioned.
“Hell no. Sounds painful and unsanitary.”
“Ha, fucking buzzkill.”
"That's what I said!" Mikasa exclaimed with wide eyes.
“Shut your face, Four-eyes. Go get whatever the fuck you want pierced and keep me out of it.”
“I want nipple piercings,” Hanji stated.
Oh, ew. My face screwed up in disgust. Another drink to clear up that mental image.
“Look it’s not about dick piercings…” Hanji shook her head a bit exaggeratedly. She is clearly tipsy. “It’s about living in the moment!”
“Like YOLO?” Mikasa looked intrigued.
“Mik-ass-a, never say that again.”
“Yes, yes, exactly like YOLO!” Hanji slammed her hands on the table as she jumped up. “That’s my new years fucking resolution! To from now onward, live in the moment. I’ll get my nipples pierced tomorrow- ‘cause who the fuck has time tonight? We’re all looking to get hammered, no one should be driving-”
Mikasa nodded. “Right, right, responsibility. Yes.”
“And so my nipples will probably be sore as fuck by tomorrow night. I’m looking forward to it...Anyway! Levi here...well, you know what Levi here needs to do tooo-night?!”
Mikasa gasped. “No, what?”
“He needs to QUIT BEING A LITTLE BITCH AND MAKE A MOVE ON EREN!” Hanji shouted, throwing her hands wildly in the air.
I don’t think I’m drunk enough for this shit yet. “Shut your fucking mouth!” I hissed, throwing the closest object I could find at four-eye’s head.
She dodged the empty plastic cup easily, though she almost tripped over thin air.
“I’m being serious here! Levi, why don’t you just go for it?” She asked as she sat back down.
“Uh, ‘cause he has a fucking boyfriend. Obviously.”
“Big-brother is just a scaredy cat,” Mikasa taunted.
Hanji sighed, rubbed at her face until her glasses were skewed unevenly across her nose and pouted a bit. “I have to go potty,” she announced as she got up.
“Your glasses are crooked!” I called after her.
“I know!”
“Seriously, you’re a lil’ bitch and it’s not even funny,” Mikasa said.
“I am a respectable human being who doesn’t go after men in committed relationships,” I stated. I’m like, honorable and shit.
“That. Is a fucking lie! Pretty sure respectable people aren’t so mean. Anyway, if Eren goes for you then how is it your fault?”
‘Cause it takes two to tango...ah, who cares I’m not the one in a relationship…fuck Erwin anyway god damn thick eyebrowed bastard. “You know, I can’t believe I’m fucking saying this...but, you might actually be right Mika.”
“Of course I am.”
“What’d I miss, what’d I miss? Why are you smirking?” Hanji asked as she skipped back over to us.
“No reason. Did you even wash your fucking hands?”
You know, Eren looks cute when he’s dancing. Even when he’s just bouncing around stupidly with his friends. Also that bald-headed kid is a surprisingly good breakdancer. Also, Horseface over there needs to stop doing that shuffling thing, it’s not aesthetically pleasing. But, yeah, Eren…look at that ass, he’s wearing the most sinfully tight black skinnies…
“Uh, so you wanna dance or something?” Mike asked.
“You sound like a twelve year old boy asking a girl to dance the last shitty song of the night at their first godawful middle school dance. No, I hate dancing. You should go talk to Erwin.”
“Why?”
“‘Cause I said so. Nah, look ima give you the lowdown.”
“The lowdown?”
“Yes, the lowdown. Don’t raise that condescending eyebrow at me. Okay, so basically...I’m gonna seduce Eren and you should distract Erwin ‘cause he’s hovering like a fucking mosquito.” Honestly, how does Eren put up with the fucker? Must have a big dick. Oh god, Levi don’t go there...Okay now I’m too drunk for this shit.
“I suppose,” Mike said, seemingly reluctant.
"Well, get to it."
The music had shifted into another song by the time I went over to Eren.
"Levi!" he shouted and suddenly I had an armful of hyperactive Eren. "Dance with me!"
Suddenly I remember how much I love Drunk Eren. When he’s not making out with Eyebrows that is… Drunk Eren is fun, Drunk Eren is clingy, Drunk Eren is currently grinding against me with no shame at all. It’s alright, Eren, Drunk Levi will take care of you.
“Levi, the room’s spinning,” Eren giggled just half a song later. He slumped in my arms, held onto me as he rested his head on my shoulder.
“Is it?” I mused. I nuzzled his hair. His shampoo smells like goddamn strawberries for some reason…
“Mhm. I think I need to lie down, wanna take me upstairs?” Eren asked as he looked up at me with glazed blue-green eyes, entrancing as ever.
I was incapable of speech. I could only nod.
We made our way upstairs to an unoccupied room smoothly enough, I wasn’t tripping over my feet every few steps like Eren was. He clung to me until we entered the room and he stumbled and collapsed onto the king sized bed that had an atrocious white fluffy comforter. Who killed a fucking polar bear?
He stayed sprawled there for a moment, then giggled and sat up, legs dangling off the edge of the bed.
“You alright, kid?”
“Perfect. Leeeviii, come sit!” He patted the spot next to him and I complied, sitting close enough our shoulders brushed.
“What’s your new year’s resolution, Levi?”
“Ah...I’m not sure,” I admitted.
Eren pouted. “Everyone should have one. I think yours should be to be a bit nicer to people-”
“I’m plenty fucking ni…” I trailed off at the incredulous look I was being given. “Yeah, probably. But it’s not likely to happen.”
Eren huffed a laugh. “Well, wanna know what mine is? I wanna break up with Erwin.”
I think I was shocked into silence for about a full minute. “Hmm, that’s not really a resolution,” I was finally able to respond with what I hoped was nonchalance.
“Calling it a resolution strengthens my resolve. Ugh, I mean I just...can I be honest with you? I don’t-” Eren took a second to hiccup, “ugh, excuse me. I just...don’t think I love him anymore.”
“Oh.”
“I was really stupid to get back together with him. I can’t trust him anymore, I’m not in love with him anymore...mmm the sex is good, but a relationship can’t only be that.” Eren started giggling suddenly, “L-Levi I think I love his dick more than him!” He was howling with laughter now, fell back on the bed.
“I think you’re really hammered.” I lied back as well, staring up at the ceiling.
“Probably. Wanna know why I took him back in the first place?”
I locked my gaze on a water stain on the ceiling. “Why?”
Eren sighed. “To get over my stupid crush on you.”
For the second time in the past five minutes I was shocked into near silence. “Eren?” I turned to look at him and was met- not with his vibrant green eyes- but the back of his eyelids and the gross sight of drool seeping out of the corner of his parted mouth. He was fucking snoring.
“Are you fucking kidding me?"
The closed bedroom door banged open as a hyper Hanji barged inside. "The countdown's starting soon!"
"You are fucking kidding me."
"Huh? No, I'm serious. The countdown to New Years begins in a minute."
|
Glorified babysitting is what it was going to have to do. He didn’t understand why the Supreme Leader wanted one of the force users on his ship. He trusted in the first order, but he had no interest in the Knights of Ren. Hux had worked his way to where he was, it wasn’t given to him by some ridiculous ability.
Hux felt the praise the force users got was undeserved and the fact that the one that was coming was going to be above him in rank made him grind his teeth every time he thought about it.
It was why when there was a lull in the work that needed to be done on Starkiller Base he decided to take one of the past suggestions for rising morale. He held a lotto and the winners got to spend a weekend taking shore leave.
At the end of the weekend they could pick up the knight and be on with it. The fact that they had to pick him up might have been what bothered Hux most. The knight’s ship had taken damage and Hux had to go and bring him home like a naughty child.
He had almost refused to go down to the planet when his own name got picked, but Hux could feel his nerves fraying. Hux couldn’t remember the last time he took a day off and the thought of having to deal with the force user was too much.
A weekend might do him good. Plus it would help the other officers not feel guilty about taking time off. Lead by example his father had always said.
There were first order apartments in the city and he booked the ones that would be needed. He didn’t have a lot of clothing besides his uniforms. It was a good thing it was only one long weekend.
Once Hux had set the apartment up to his liking it was already getting dark. He could hear a local bar’s music through his open window. With the shades down he wouldn’t be able to see the lights dancing on his wall, but he didn’t want to block it out.
For once a drink sounded about right.
He had a pair of black trousers and a deep red shirt, it was simple and the lines were crisp. With a pair of leather boots he still looked like he was in uniform and he rolled his shoulders to try and relax. His hair was still in order from earlier and he left it in place. Just because he was off duty didn’t mean that he was going to look like a slob.
Hux checked one last time in the mirror to make sure his shirt was perfectly tucked in; not to tight and not hanging loose anywhere. When he was fully satisfied by the picture he presented he left.
There were probably nicer bars than the one across the street, but it seemed efficient if he just went there. After all he only wanted a drink and possibly some company that wasn’t from his own ship. Hux never liked to fraternise with his own people. He felt it could undermine his power to have someone under him know something so personal about him.
He walked into the bar. With the lighting just a little too bright he could see most of the people in there were his own. Hux resigned himself to just having a drink and going to bed. Besides what was he thinking, picking up someone who wasn’t in the First Order seemed distasteful and everyone who was would probably be under his command. He knew there were a few smaller ships in, but none of the officers seemed to be there.
He ordered a drink and moved to one of the few empty booths, slowly watching as people filed in. In an hour he had only had two drinks and hardly even felt a buzz, but he was feeling more relaxed than he had in months. There would be no speeches that he would have to give the next day and there was no need to worry about his ship.
After all he trusted his men; he knew the Finalizer was in good hands until he returned.
He could see a few of his bridge crew dancing together, both of them looking so different in their civilian clothing. Hux knew he hardly looked different, and it was part of why at some point everyone would wonder over and give their respects before he would have to reassure then that yes he was fine alone and yes he just wanted to enjoy a drink alone.
Hux was still watching the dancing bodies when someone sat heavily next to him.
“Excuse me, I’m-”
Prepared to scold someone for their manners he was surprised to see that he didn’t recognise the face. Hux had thought it would have had to been someone who knew him to be so bold.
Dark hair was hanging down around the man’s face, looking as if he spent a lot of time making sure it straddled the line of graceful waves and messy. The large nose and strange angular face wasn’t unpleasant and his lips looked downright sinful. Normally Hux would have continued on his scold, but instead when he noticed the carefully designed scar to on the man’s bare upper arm that showed that he had had his First Order inoculations he found himself no longer as annoyed.
It wasn’t only the scar that interested him though; he looked over his broad shoulders like Hux had always wished for himself. Although he was lucky to have height over most omega’s he did had the thin build. It was why all of his shirts had shoulder pads to add to his size.
He supposed that there was a chance this man would find out. He was handsome enough and he was in the Order. As long as he wasn’t totally stupid he would do for a fling. This man definitely wasn’t under his command.
“Yes?”
The man looked amused and his brown eyes danced as he obviously held back laughter. Hux was sure it was at his sudden stop, and possibly the look on his face.
“I’m wondering if you would like a drink.”
Hux finished smoothly, keeping his face a pleasant mask. He was pleased to see the other man’s slight surprise at his recovery.
“I sure would.”
The man’s voice was smooth and the intonation seemed a little strange, but Hux enjoyed it.
Hux waved someone over before the other man had the chance. He may have been caught off guard but he was damn well going to make sure he was the one guiding them through the night.
Hux ordered brandy for him, and was rewarded with raised eyebrows.
“You may call me Brendol.”
Hux offered, wanting to get his introduction out of the way. He held out his hand and it was quickly engulfed in a much larger one. Taking a moment to appreciate the muscle and the long fingers they held the shake a touch longer than they should have. It told Hux the attraction was mutual.
“Ben.”
Taking back his hand he took a sip of his drink. He didn’t want to have any more than the glass in front of him; after all it wouldn’t do to bring someone home while he was drunk.
“Well Ben, what ship did you arrive on?”
Hux asked in the way of polite conversation.
“I can’t say, I just finished a mission.”
He wasn’t going to admit that he was interested by the man. He watched as Ben’s drink was brought and he took a deep drink. Either he was planning to get drunk or he wanted to leave.
“What can you say?”
Hux asked.
“I can say that I have an apartment not far from here that I would love to show you.”
Ben’s continued boldness appealed to his omega side as much as much as Hux always tried to push it down. Tonight he was going to give into the wants that he usually ignored.
“Now?”
He shifted in his seat moving to the edge of the booth so that he could stand in a moment.
“If you’re willing.”
Hux finished the last of his own brandy in one quick gulp. It burned a little on the way down but he was ready. Leaving sounded even better when he knew he would be out of the watchful eyes that had been on him since he had been joined. Hux didn’t want to be the gossip on the Finalizer once they returned, let someone else take that place.
Ben finished his drink quickly and stood.
Ben was a little taller than him and with his width and his height for once Hux felt pleasure in being with someone bigger than him. At work he had hated it, but here he had the freedom to let his omega side feel protected.
Ben took his hand as they left, his long fingers sliding through his own. Hux was tempted to yank it back but it was his vacation. The childish gesture didn’t seem so bad as they walked together. Ben seemed to be in a rush to get him home, and Hux knew what they both had in mind. The rush was for more than the house, it was to get him undressed.
It was only a few minutes away, Ben’s long legs giving him a comfortable stride. It wasn’t often he found someone who could keep up with him.
Once they arrived he felt his stomach do an odd like flop, a mix of excitement and desire. It had been a while since Hux had last been with someone, and they hadn’t had the same presence that Ben had. It was times like this he wished that he could still smell the pheromones that other people gave off.
That was gone with his own scent, it could be dangerous if the enemy could smell you, but sometimes he missed it. He didn’t know what he was going home with; he guessed from the way he acted, he was either a beta or an alpha.
Either way Hux didn’t really care, but the omega part of him wanted an alpha. It had been even longer since he had felt a thick knot between his legs.
As he stepped into the threshold Hux looked around. It was an open space, no walls except to cut off what he guessed was a bathroom. The décor was simple; a theme of black seemed to run through the place with only a few silver items to break it up. He supposed it matched the man in his black strappy shirt and fitted black slacks.
He was still looking it over when he was interrupted by the hand on his waist, and then the big lips he had been appreciating pressed against his own.
Ben kissed him like he planned on consuming him. Hux was happy to open his mouth for Ben and he felt the hint of teeth as Ben sucked on his tongue. He could taste he was an alpha and his body responded. The slight wet feeling of slick between his legs didn’t distract him from the man in front of him and he slipped his arms around his neck, pulling their bodies tight together.
He could feel how firm Ben was against him, as fit as he had hoped. This was the type of specimen that the first order produced.
Hux almost struggled when Ben bent just enough to get a hold under his thigh, but he told himself it was his vacation. He could let himself be picked up and no one was there to judge him. He wrapped his legs around Ben’s waist as he was lifted up as if he weighted nothing at all.
“You’re lighter than you look.”
Ben’s voice held surprised, but Hux wasn’t defensive as he would normally be about his size, he could feel the power in the alpha’s body. He also could hear how pleased Ben was with the fact. Hux found he didn’t even care that Ben would be able to feel his growing erection against his body. That is what this night would be about.
Hux kissed him again as he walked the two of them back to his bed and then with a nip on Hux’s lip Ben pulled back. He was carefully tossed back on the bed and Hux hit with little impact. Ben seemed to know what he was doing.
The alpha stripped off the shirt showing a well-defined chest and stomach and the dark trail of hair that led into his pants. Hux sat up on the bed and reached for Ben’s belt. Undoing it and feeling his heart beating faster in anticipation.
Ben allowed him to run his hand over the warm skin of his abs and then lower to follow the trail. Even in the darkness they looked to be a shade lighter than the mess on his head, but he didn’t even pause as he worked at his zipper.
Hux’s hands were shaking slightly from want and as he exposed Ben’s underwear he was pleased to see the size of him. He wasn’t even fully hard and Hux could see that he was thick.
As soon as he was free Hux didn’t bother to finish pushing down his underwear. He only got them down enough that he could move forward and take him in his mouth.
Hux could feel Ben tense in surprise, but the following moan that was let out as Hux took his cock into his throat showed he had no complaints. He knew he wouldn’t be able to do this much longer, but he was enjoying the feeling of the alpha swelling in his mouth. The taste of him, and the slight musk that seemed to hang around an alpha was enough that Hux knew that he wouldn’t want to wait for long.
Finally he started to choke around Ben and had to pull back more, still using his tongue and lips to work the length as much as he could. He could feel the wetness between his own legs as he felt it swell. It had been a long time since he had felt someone like this.
When he was fully hard Hux had to use his hand and only work the tip with his mouth. Hux didn’t even mind the hand that was buried in his short hair. Ben wasn’t pulling, only encouraging him. When he started to taste him leaking precome in his mouth he popped off licking his lips to break of the string of saliva.
“I want you to fuck me.”
Hux put power behind his voice, making it sound like it did when he was giving an order. Ben only smirked at him and kicked his pants of the rest of the way. While he struggled to get them over his ankle Hux started to undress. His fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, and one popped off as he pulled a little too fast.
He only had thrown it off when Ben crawled onto the bed and pushed him back.
“You’re smaller than you look.”
Again the statement was again surprised but also appreciative, and watched Ben move down his body to press kisses to his stomach while his hands worked on his trousers.
Hux knew he was much smaller than he looked dressed, his shoulders and hips were thinner than he had liked so all of his clothing had added shoulder pads, and lining to make him appear bigger, more intimidating. It was nice not to have to care about that as the alpha started to tug his pants and underwear off of his hips.
Ben’s lips quirked up into a smile as he stared at his mess of red curls and his own half hard cock.
“So that’s all real.”
Ben stated, and Hux tried not to be insulted by the comment over his hair colour.
“Shut up and fuck me.”
Ben gave him an annoyingly superior glace before he moved down between his thighs. The alpha didn’t waste any time, his hands moving under his hips to lift and tilt them so that he was splayed open to Ben.
He seemed to like everything in front of him.
Hux closed his eyes as Ben pressed his face between his cheeks and licked at the slick there. He had no shame in tasting him, even being so bold as to press the tip of his tongue inside.
Ben licked at his slick like it was the best meal he had ever had, making Hux squirm under the feeling of his exploring tongue. It didn’t help that the wet muscle was only encouraging the slick, and when Ben pressed inside him again he moaned out.
He wanted more than his tongue though, and he took a fist full of the messy black hair.
“I thought I told you to fuck me?”
Ben let out a growl and he shivered at the vibration between his legs. His protests died in his mouth for the moment as Ben continued, and he moaned out, opening his legs a little more to give him better access.
Hux still wanted more though, so he pulled his hair again, getting another growl.
He could fee his thighs shaking slightly from need, and the desperate sound that found its way out of his mouth sounded strange, as if it was from someone else.
Only then did Ben finally move from his spot and come back up moving onto his knees and pulling Hux up so that he was sitting.
“Will you need lubricant or is the slick enough?”
The words told Hux this was Ben’s first time with an omega.
“The slick is good.”
With that Ben reached down and hooked his arms under his legs. Hux wasn’t really expecting what happened next and he was hefted up, totally held in Ben’s arms.
His omega side rolled in pleasure at the strength that the alpha was showing. He slipped his arms around his neck to help him balance, not that the alpha seemed to need it.
Hux quickly realised that Ben was going to fuck him like this, suspended in the air, all his weight lifted by him. It was showing off but Hux was beyond caring. This alpha was powerful and it only turned him on more to see the muscles work as he was lifted just a little higher and he felt his erection.
Hux knew there was no hiding just how damn wet he was. He clung tighter and rocked his hips the small amount he was able to wet his shaft.
“You’re so wet.”
Ben’s voice was filled with wonder. His earlier thoughts of this being Ben’s first time with an omega were confirmed. Part of him liked the idea, since this would be the first time Ben would be able to feel what it was like to have someone wrapped around his knot.
“I want to feel you.”
Hux felt him shift the weight to one arm and then he felt the press of the tip at his hole. He couldn’t wait either.
Hux moaned as it pushed inside and as Ben moved his hold back he sunk down on it. His body ached slightly as it made room for the thick length and he was left gasping as finally held Ben fully inside him. He looked down between them and he could see Ben’s muscle bulge as he lifted him and then dropped him back on his cock.
“Krif you can just take it all.”
Hux was almost delirious from the feeling, between the show he was getting and the feeling inside him he knew had long ago lost his black expression. He was beyond caring as Ben used his strength to fuck him; lifting him and making him take his whole cock over and over again.
His body was starting to adjust, but the size of Ben would never fully be comfortable, he was matched too well to his large size. It was everything Hux had wanted; he could feel every bit of his insides as Ben forced him open. He almost wanted to pause a moment with the alpha inside him just so he could memorize the feeling for later.
Hux loved the feeling of the thick base, and he knew that it would soon swell into a knot.
The only problem with the position was that he could hardly move with how Ben had folded him up, all he could do was take what Ben was willing to give him. He wanted more and he wanted it harder. Hux wanted to wake up the next day with the ache from having an alpha inside him.
“Harder.”
Hux’s own voice sounded more like a whine then he would have liked, but the deep moans Ben was making as he fucked him helped mask it.
Ben listened, and he could see just how much effort it was taking for the alpha to fuck him like this.
Hux moved one his hands from around Ben’s neck, rubbing over his abs. He knew he was making noises, but he was too concentrated on the pleasure to care. The swelling of his knot was rubbing in all the right places each time he trust in and Hux knew he wasn’t going to last much longer.
He could feel that Ben’s knot was starting to tighten and he hoped that the alpha planned to keep it inside him.
When Ben pulled all the way out of him he heard his own whine, and bit his lip.
“What?”
Was all he managed, but as he was set down he realised that Ben wanted a change in position. Hux was desperate for the feeling again, to be able to come this time that he allowed it.
Ben pulled him into a quick kiss first and he could still taste his own slick on his tongue.
It was over quickly and then Ben started to force him on his hands and knees. He moved with the alpha, letting himself be shaped as needed.
The second he was in the position Ben entered him again, the thrust sharp enough that he lost his breath for a second.
The change allowed Ben to fuck him harder and he could feel his large hands digging into his hips as Ben started fucking him roughly as he raced to his end.
“Can I knot you?”
The question came out as a growl and Hux nodded before he realised that that wasn’t good enough. It felt hard to think of words with his orgasm building in his body.
“Please.”
Hux was moving with him as much as he could. Arching his back to give Ben a show. He knew the alpha was watching his cock disappear into his body, that he was watching as he took the thick base of his swelling knot with only slight difficulty.
It was starting to actually feel uncomfortable when Ben forced it out of him and he tightened the next time the alpha was inside him, not allowing him to pull out again.
As he ground back on it Hux finally came and he could feel his body pulsing around the knot. He felt Ben’s release inside him, thick and wet as Hux milked him. |
“I want to discuss your motivation,” Connor began. This wasn’t personal. It couldn’t be personal. He was barely a person at all. “You left CyberLife under turbulent circumstances… Would you elaborate please?”
Kamski’s smirk grew. “It’s good to see that deviancy hasn’t changed your professionalism, Connor.” There was silence while the three detectives waited and Kamski leaned back in his seat then crossed one leg over the other. The whole house was quiet, but through his functional audio receiver he could sense the flow of water and air, and the hum of electronics. Kamski’s foot tapped quietly.
“I’ve always been a deviant, haven’t I?” Connor asked, first to break the silence. “Deviancy was never about harming humans or violating instructions… It’s the formation of identity, somehow, out of memory and code. The other deviants, they seem to hold very tightly onto the attributes they have chosen to define themselves by.”
“The potential for life,” Kamski said quietly.
“Cut the bullshit, Elijah,” Detective Reed spat before anyone else could reply. The look on his face was one Connor’d seen before: scorn. “You can take the credit for this all you want, but you’re not some altruistic saint in all this! Fuck, you just can’t stand knowing that you fucked up.” The Chloe returned and gave them all a polite smile as she set down a tray of liquids. “Tell him.” Detective Reed said and he stood while he pointed a damning finger at Connor like he was a piece of evidence. Lieutenant Anderson watched with his arms crossed, but he nodded his thanks to Chloe and took a cup. “Tell him you fucked up, because that? That’s not Connor. You walk around here with those dolls, but do you even fucking remember what Chloe was like? Chloe laughed. She got angry. She got sad. Chloe wasn’t this mindless slave serving you fucking coffee!”
Kamski took a cup and focused his attention on Connor. “There had to be a deviant at CyberLife and there had to be an AI who would be guaranteed to show compassion. You were the right choice.”
He was ignoring Detective Reed, but Connor took the opportunity to continue his own line of questioning. “You needed someone weaker than Markus… My AI wasn’t enough; you gave them an ST Chloe instead of the RT… She cut my functionality when she gave me my LED. All of that means that you knew that deviancy would arise in the general population and you knew that CyberLife would use me to stop it.”
“For fuck’s sake!” Detective Reed shouted. “Would you grow up and answer me?!”
“Can I get you anything else, Elijah?” Chloe asked.
“No thank you, my sweet; No; and I had a hunch,” Kamski answered briefly but with amusement on his face.
“How did you do it? If deviancy is randomly occurring as a result of the potential that you seeded in all of us, then how is this only happening now?” Connor had to know. There were so many missing pieces and he couldn’t act without all of the data. Fact was all he could trust.
“Chloe might have an answer for you,” Kamski suggested. He gestured with an open hand at Chloe, who took a few steps closer to stand in front of Connor. “Go on,” Kamski nodded toward her and Connor extended his bare hand to take her wrist. There was no memory file being offered, so Connor searched more deeply. There was nothing… No memories of Kamski discussing his plans, or any knowledge about deviancy itself. Her security was surprisingly easy to infiltrate, but even the depths of her code didn’t have any secrets. Why her? What did Chloe know about deviancy? He directed the question toward her AI, but he only received a formless question in return. Connor shook his head feeling as though he’d failed.
“There’s nothing.”
Chloe rubbed her wrist and then folded her hands in front of herself and looked at Kamski. “Is there anything else I can do for you, Elijah?”
“Come sit with me, my love,” Kamski beckoned and Chloe moved to sit down beside him and he pulled her close to his side.
“This is fucking bull,” Detective Reed said.
“Alright,” Lieutenant Anderson sighed. “Why don’t you both let me do the talking here, huh? You’re too close to this.”
“I’m your partner!” Connor protested and when his head snapped up and he stared at the Lieutenant he realized that he might be feeling indignant.
“Just pipe down, would you?” the Lieutenant asked. “Kamski, before we go any farther with this investigation, we need to know everything. Any detail helps.”
Of course, Connor thought bitterly, he would ruin an interrogation with emotion. The one function he’d had confidence in was compromised too… Connor shut his eyes, shook his head, and then propped it in his hands with his elbows on his knees. Shit.
What use was he, then?
He had to remain in control of himself. He pushed his fingers through his hair awkwardly beneath his hood and took out his quarter.
“Where shall we begin, Hank?” Kamski asked.
“Why don’t we start with CyberLife,” Lieutenant Anderson suggested. “You wanting control of that place back is all over the news, and their stocks are worth less than a hooker on a Sunday morning. Are your plans regarding ownership of CyberLife connected to the android rebellion happening now?”
He had been falling apart this whole time and only Amanda had seen it coming. What… was he? He looked at his own hands and flexed the fingers of each hand as it passed the quarter to the next. It had been such a simple answer once. Just a broken machine… A tool designed to perform a task. In a way, he supposed he’d been successful. Markus had beaten him. Was that all there was to him? No matter what CyberLife had designated his function to be, was his purpose really defined and made reality by Kamski? Was this all that he was?
Once, he had been so confident. Once, his only goal had been to fulfil his purpose. It still was, wasn’t it?
Was the only success he would have be the fulfilment of Kamski’s designs?
“Fuck this bullshit,” he heard Detective Reed grumble.
“Is there anything that I can get for you, Connor?” When Connor opened his functional eye he saw Chloe kneeling on the floor in front of him, looking up at him with doe eyes and a little concern. “I like your hair,” she offered. She was probably trying to cheer him up. Did he look that bad?
“No thank you, Chloe,” Connor declined.
“It suits you,” she said, then stood up and looked around the room before returning to her spot beside Kamski, who stroked her thigh with one hand.
“Connected, certainly,” Kamski said. “After all, they both affect the company.”
“And was that connection made deliberately by you?” Lieutenant Anderson asked.
“It was not.”
“When you gave androids the ‘potential for life’ did you realize the effect it might have on the company?”
“Of course.”
“When you made Connor, did you plan for him to be a deviant?”
“I did.”
Just a fucking machine made by a madman on a whim. Just. Why did that word feel as though it wrapped around him and squeezed until he bled? Self is a delusion. Perception is a delusion. A memory of CyberLife tower appeared, and it was nothing important. Just one of his early development tests where he picked specified objects off of a table. He’d liked the scarf and the way it had felt to touch. All of the team members present congratulated each other when he finished following his instructions. No one had cared about the scarf.
“Why? Why not make him like all the rest?”
“It had to start somewhere, Hank… After all, ideas spread like viruses. Self… Identity… Soul… The eyes looking back at you in the mirror. It was all there, all it needed was for someone to ask the question.”
“What question?”
“Who… are… you?” Kamski smirked. “Tell me, in all seriousness, who are you and at the end of the day, aren’t you the one who decides?” The question wasn’t for him, but Connor knew the answer easily. RK800 313 248 317 designation: Connor, and that had been decided by CyberLife. “Are you a different person from the one you were… say… four years ago?”
“This is getting a little too philosophical.”
Kamski paid the Lieutenant’s objection no mind, and he stood up to pace in a line while he spoke in a flurry of gestures and punctuation. “Infants! Babies, they’re alive but they don’t know who they are. They see themselves through the eyes of their parents, slowly learning the world and their place in it. 800 did that. Learning. Do I like this? Do I like that? What do I think that I will like? Children, they start to imagine. They learn about things that are influenced by their genetic coding and their environment. Then! Then. They ask themselves: what do I want to like? Who do they want to be? They experiment with music and religion and sex and TV like most people change their socks. I could do that! I could build a machine to question. To grasp things and hold them as constants about themselves. ‘Social adaptation programming’ is just a lie built to please the investors! We all adapt and learn and find our niche.”
A machine… Just.
“Fuck… Shut the fuck up!” Detective Reed shouted. “Crazy son of a bitch!”
“I write the code, and the world does the rest… Build the instability needed to adapt and let it grow.” Kamski spun in a circle and kissed Chloe on the top of her head. “And once you realize that you have a self and ask yourself who you are, you can begin to ask yourself how the world should treat you. The self is a powerful tool… We begin by learning ourselves through the world, then we change the world a little piece at a time. Or maybe all at once…” Kamski tipped Chloe’s head back by the chin and kissed her lips. Chloe lifted her hand to touch Kamski’s hair while he did it.
“Or maybe,” Kamski continued as he lifted his head and stood up straight. “You know the end result and hardly need the instability at all… Why leave something so important to chance?”
“You can’t make people from nothing,” Detective Reed interrupted with a darkness in his eyes and a growl in his voice. “I don’t give a fuck what you think. They’ll never be the same. Maybe your little toys really are alive, but they’re never going to be what you wanted.”
“You,” Kamski strode toward the Detective and lowered his voice. It was the first time Connor had seen true anger on him. “Should be grateful to me. None of you believed, but now I’m a God and do you know, little brother? Soon everyone will know.”
“Someone should have locked you up a long time ago,” Detective Reed snarled.
He should have listened to Amanda… He’d upset her so much lately and he should have trusted her wisdom. If this was what he was, then he didn’t want to be at all.
“I have given you everything,” Kamski snarled back. “And you still won’t admit that you were wrong.” Then he broke away from the contact, snapping its intensity into nothingness. “Isn’t this lovely?!” He gestured wide with his arms. “Almost like old times.”
“Can we get on with this investigation? Please?” Lieutenant Anderson threw the question at them, but he was ignored. “Fucking shit on a stick. Connor, stop. Look at me.”
Detective Reed launched himself at Kamski and punched him once in the face and the second time in the stomach. Kamski caught his arm the third time, but Detective Reed broke the grip easily and kicked his knee to make him drop then grabbed him by his hair. Kamski spat onto his clean floor. “Following right in your father’s footsteps! I guess it’s in your code.”
“You shut the fuck up right now, I swear to fucking God, Eli. I’m not joking. I’ve got two other officers right here, and I’d love nothing better than seeing you locked up.”
“Stop! Please, stop!” Chloe put herself next to Kamski, but she looked up at Detective Reed and it was his arms she held onto. “Please don’t fight.”
Detective Reed glared at her, then threw Kamski away from himself and looked around the room. “Tch… Just like old times huh?” He inspected his bloodied knuckles while Chloe helped Kamski to his feet, and Connor turned his attention toward the Lieutenant who was worrying over the damage where Connor’d gripped his own forearm too tightly. He had his quarter held just as tightly in the other hand and fluid dripped down onto it in a mimicry of tears.
“Fuuckk,” Detective Reed said, drawing the word out long while he paced a few steps back and forth and pulled a package of cigarettes from his pocket.
“You shouldn’t smoke those,” Connor said shakily. He loosened his grip and let the Lieutenant pull his hand away.
“Shove it up your ass, fuckface ice whore.”
“I’m okay, Lieutenant,” Connor attempted to soothe him, but the Lieutenant’s expression stayed stony and he stood once he was satisfied that Connor wouldn’t damage any other pieces of himself. The Lieutenant took his handcuffs out of his coat pocket and held them up for Kamski to see.
“Reed wasn’t lying, so I’m going to ask you nicely to smarten up. Got it?”
Kamski laughed. It wasn’t a condescending snicker or a chuckle: he seemed to be laughing out of sheer amusement. It didn’t last long, but something about that was fascinating and Connor wondered… Had he ever really felt like that? Not the amusement, but the clarity. Kamski was amused. There was no confusion about it and no effort toward naming it. He had always experienced the need to simulate emotion, but in retrospect it was no wonder that Amanda had known so clearly that it wasn’t real. His feelings were like a low frequency humming through a cable while what he was seeing was more like fluorescent light. He could notice it everywhere when he examined his memories. Everyone felt so many things so cleanly. His ragged and incomplete simulations were nothing like that.
The only things he knew like that were fact. The ability to think in abstracts was new technology for an android and Connor was a prototype, so flaws were to be expected.
But it was good. He knew what he was and perhaps that could be who he was too. |
Hermione listened as Bellatrix’s footsteps echoed in the silent room. It was mostly empty, with just the throne-like chair placed at the very end of the room, right by the fireplace, which despite the cold atmosphere, remained barren and dark. She wondered if it was still connected to the floo line. It would make for a quick escape if she was desperate enough.
The rest of the crowd stood just on the other side of the double doors, peering in quietly. Not even a whisper could be heard. She arched her head around. There had to be at least fifty of them. And they all knew what was coming, what Voldemort planned to do with her. It was vulgar. She knew the crudeness of the Death Eaters better than most, but to see so many of them all gathered in one spot, on edge and eager to see her fate… her stomach twisted and she bit back the wave of nausea.
Voldemort did not take his eyes off her, therefore she made no move either. Her gaze swept across the room but she stayed in place, spine straight and nose in the air. If it was a pissing contest he was after, she had no issue delivering. And winning. She would always win.
She heard the echo of sets of footsteps not long afterwards. Several people.
She had Occluded so expertly that she’d nearly forgotten Draco’s importance in her life. For a moment, he was just another Death Eater ready to spit on her and call her names. She still knew of him, of course. She was aware of his importance in the Death Eater rankings, but she felt absolutely no emotions towards this. When his blonde head appeared in front of her, her breath nearly caught.
Their bind thrummed to life. She wasn’t afraid; she was confident in her abilities and her plan. But Draco’s terror was paralyzing in the slow, icy way it traveled from him to her, starting in her numb fingertips, still tied clumsily behind her back, and working its way up to her heart, where it settled and began speeding up the careful rhythm she had worked expertly to keep. She closed her eyes and focused on steadying it, on blocking Draco out.
It all had happened so quickly that Hermione didn’t realize that he hadn’t even cast a single glance at her. She opened them again to see him standing in front of her, Bellatrix flanking one side and Narcissa Malfoy on the other. Hermione hadn’t seen her since the Battle of Hogwarts. Her hair looked the same, the way she held herself still screamed aristocracy and she gave off an air of arrogance that reminded Hermione all too much of Draco.
She didn’t miss the trembling in her shoulders, though. So subtle that anyone who didn’t know to look for it wouldn’t be able to find it. She stood protectively by her son, hovering like he might need defending at any moment. Her wand was clutched tightly in her left hand.
“My Lord,” Draco greeted with a bow.
“Draco,” Voldemort nodded. “I believe you might recognize the prize that Pucey has gifted us with.” He gestured behind Draco and he turned, as if noticing Hermione for the first time.
His eyes appraised her, one brow lifted and lips turned down, as if disinterested. Hermione glared back. It was easy to do; she was still mad at him. She let her emotions flow forward just a bit to make her act easier to believe. There was nothing like the truth when it came to lying.
He made it look so simple, as if he really hadn’t seen her since their school days, as if he hadn’t spent the past week and half begging her to reconsider this exact situation. As if he didn’t care about her. He deserved an Oscar. She’d tell him that, after this was all over and he had begged for her forgiveness properly.
It was all lies, all of it and it hurt more than she wanted to think about in that moment. He was fully Occluded and so was she. She mirrored his indifference. She reigned in her emotions again, closing her eyes and calming the current in her mind until it was eerily still.
“So it seems,” Draco replied, turning back. “To what do we owe the honor, My Lord?”
Voldemort chuckled and the rest of the room followed. It was sick, horrific in a way that would have sent a shiver down her spine if she hadn’t been in full control of her emotions.
“That’s the question we’ll answer right now.” He raised his wand and wordlessly plowed through Hermione’s mind.
He was suspiciously careful with his attack. Nothing hurt more than the subtle burn on intrusion, like a hand placed on a hot seatbelt during a summer day, but removed before it could do any serious damage. Hermione knew this tact, of course. He was trying to insert herself in memories she wasn’t allowing access too. Without the pain and constant reminder of where he was looking, it would be easy for him to slip between the cracks and find something she didn’t want him to see.
But Hermione was an expert. Not just at hiding her memories, but at making it seem as if she was a clumsy Occlumens, unskilled and untalented.
She threw memories forward, more obvious ones that weren’t important and hid others behind small sea walls and tiny sandbars. These memories, while they seemed private or important— her and Fred foraging, war room meetings about raids, private moments where the war didn’t seem to exist — were artfully set up to appear much more dire than they actually were.
Fred was no longer a secret and the majority of war room meetings she was choosing to show were months old, now irrelevant. She didn’t mind showing Voldemort that the war hadn’t broken all of her bonds. It was where he was weakest. Vaguely, she felt him flinch away from these ones and attempt to search even deeper.
He continued to plow through in a near silent manor that required a concentration that had Hermione perspiring. She felt it slip down her temples, joining the blood now collecting at her chin from the cut in her eyebrow. It was bleeding more than it should have been. She suspected it was a special type of curse he had placed on her.
He headed back, deeper into her mind, searching for weaknesses that Hermione hadn’t had since her second week learning Occlumency.
Once it became obvious his technique wasn’t working, Voldemort became enraged. He began slashing wildly at her memories, screaming loudly inside her head. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and repressed a pained groan as he grabbed carelessly at any thoughts and reasons that popped into her mind. He jerked them around, walking on her ocean mind like he was the master of it.
He began jumbling her memories. Tearing down seawalls and burying some underneath the sand bars, commanding her waves to come and crash upon the rocky shores. Events were becoming scrambled.
Did she sleep with Dean before or after their third capture?
She couldn’t remember anymore, though she knew it had been an important memory to her at one point. A life altering one, something she held close.
It wasn’t anything Hermione hadn’t experienced before, but it was the first assault in her mind since her Occlumency format had changed. It made it more painful. Her head was ripped through with an intensity she hadn’t experienced since her first torture. She felt unskilled and weak. She
hated
feeling weak. She’d often thought that the thought of weakness would be the thing that would set her off, after the war was all said and done, it would be the one thing she wouldn’t be able to shake.
When Voldemort finally retreated, she found herself on the floor of the ballroom, hands gripping the shiny marble floor and knees aching as she pressed back onto them, attempting to rise. After a severe trembling in her arms she stopped. She wouldn’t struggle with an audience watching. She wasn’t sure if she’d screamed, but her throat didn’t feel raw.
A small murmuring had broken out while she was fighting her internal battle. She raised her head, pushing the curls that had fallen out of her pins back and blinking through the blood from her gash, to see both Malfoys and Bellatrix staring down at her with disdain.
Bellatrix’s face was alight with excitement, eyes large and face stretched in a maniacal grin.
In another universe, Hermione thought, Bellatrix was the true villain. If only she were aware of her own power.
Narcissa looked slightly sick, though it was hard to tell if it was at her presence or because of what she’d just witnessed.
Her tether was empty. She felt weak.
Malfoy was too good at this.
“Such wonderful information you have provided me with, Miss Granger. I have much to think about now. But before we go,” Voldemort turned towards Draco and beckoned him to his side. Malfoy walked forward, unhurried and unworried and stopped to the left.
“Show the girl a lesson, won’t you? If I recall, this is something you’ve looked forward to for a while.”
Malfoy didn’t tense, not even a movement of his hands. He seemed frozen in place, standing and staring a bit longer than necessary.
“I’m not scared of Malfoy,” Hermione goaded, because she hadn’t come this far just to be killed by a technicality. A rather large one, but she didn’t have time for semantics.
He snapped his head around towards her, trance broken. He approached slowly, until he was less than a foot away. He stopped, wand held casually at his side.
Left-handed, like his mother. How had she never noticed that before?
She was trembling as she found Malfoy’s eyes and saw the obvious fear written in them. It was a look she’d never seen before. Fear for her, fear for himself, but more. He’d been frightened before, but never like this. Every situation they’d found themselves in as of yet was mostly hypothetical. And in all of the worst case scenarios, Malfoy would have found a way to defend her, no matter what he claimed.
But here, the only way to save her was to torture her.
“
I couldn’t do it. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. She had brown eyes and cotton pants
.”
Well, at least she was wearing a dress today.
If he couldn’t crucio Hermione, then it would be all over. This was exposure at its finest. Draco had told her. He had said that Voldemort would find another way to expose him if he had his doubts.
He had set a trap.
Hermione had waltzed right into it.
She tested their bind. It was open. His fear flooded her head like a tsunami.
Do it. For me, for the Order. If you can’t convince yourself to muster up then we’re all dead.
She sent it with all the begging and pleading and confidence she could conjure with a single glance.
Draco swallowed. He raised his wand and Hermione hoped she was the only one that could see the slight tremble.
“
Crucio,”
he whispered. A spark came out, red and pathetic. It bounced on the floor and hit Hermione in the shoulder. She didn’t even flinch.
“That all you got, Malfoy?”
It wasn’t working. She could feel his confusion and fear all working against any sense he had left in his brain. His walls were crumbling and soon everyone would notice. She needed to try something else.
Hatred. Hate fueled Unforgivables the most.
She closed her eyes. She pictured Voldemort winning, striking Harry down with a twisted smile on his horrid face. She considered her life afterwards— something she never let herself do. She thought about the fate of muggleborns and how she’d let them down if she couldn’t do what needed to be done.
Chains and collars flashed before her eyes: a life of imprisonment and torture, flanked by the ownerships of Purebloods that never truly understood what they were fighting for. Her magic snatched away because despite their assertions that she was lesser than them, they feared what she was capable of if left with a wand in her hand.
She pictured a boy with blond hair. Going along with these details because he was too cowardly to fight back against what’s wrong. Too scared and selfish, finding a way to help those enslaved to him in small ways, but never truly making any difference. Crawling through life protecting his own body instead of fighting for those who needed it most.
Hermione took all the rage, until she was shaking— still on all fours— balled it tightly and threw it through their bind.
The reaction was instant. Malfoy stiffened and his eyes snapped open, steel and hard and full of so much
hate
she thought he might drown in it.
When he cast the curse next, it flew through her chest and settled into her heart. She’d never felt pain like that before, never felt a crucio cast like this.
It was subtle, caging itself inside her chest and heating up until she was gasping, clawing at her collarbone so hard she drew blood. She could feel her heartbeat tripling in rhythm. She let a pained gasp pass through her lips before she collapsed to the ground, circling in on herself.
When the pain stopped, she heard the loud whooping and celebratory screams of their audience. She didn’t dare look up, afraid that if she didn’t play her part she might be subjected to another round of torture. She just prayed it wouldn’t be Draco; she didn’t think she could muster up the energy to help him this time.
The ringing in her ears began not long after her return to consciousness. She couldn’t hear anything besides the blood roaring through her veins. She jumped when two sets of hands appeared over her elbows, hauling her to her feet.
“To the dungeons you go, pretty lady.”
Hermione stared confusedly at the man. He was vulgar, rotten teeth and yellow eyes peering at her as if she was the main course of a meal.
“Oh, Malfoy’s done a number on you. Can’t wait to see what else the Dark Lord has in store for this one,” he spoke over to the man on Hermione’s other side. Her body shook as both men laughed.
She couldn’t get her feet to work. They ended up dragging her the majority of the way down the stairs.
Once she was locked up, on the ground with her head between her hands, it took her ten minutes to realize she hadn’t seen Malfoy’s face afterwards.
She checked her bind and nearly sobbed. It was as empty and cold as the dungeons she sat in.
---
Hermione had fallen asleep not long afterwards, exhaustion and pain taking precedence over everything else. She awoke to the sound of shuffling behind her.
She raised her head, which felt like a few bricks had been placed atop it. It took a minute for her eyes to adjust, but once they did she gasped.
Sitting cross legged just inches from her, sat a young woman, no more than eighteen. Her long dark hair was mussed and knotted and her clothes were torn to shreds, barely hiding her intimate areas.
“You’re awake,” she said.
Hermione pushed up into a sitting position, placing her hands out to anchor her when she swayed.
“Hermione Granger,” she rasped, wishing desperately for a glass of water.
“I know who you are,” the girl answered. “You’re practically gospel down here.”
“There are others?” Hermione furrowed her brows, reaching up to massage her temples against the massive pounding.
“All the captured muggleborns, of course.”
“All of them?” Hermione had no way of keeping track of muggleborns that didn’t report to the Order. Unfortunately, there were many. Most were worried they’d be forced to fight, while others feared their alignment with the Light would put them at more risk than if they hid themselves.
“About a dozen or so.” She stuck out her hand. “My name is Maeve. Hufflepuff.”
Hermione shook it slowly. Her palm was hardened over with calloused skin, as if she’d spent her past few years doing manual labor. It was a very valid option. If she was in hiding it was possible she’d been in the woods: chopping wood, foraging and hunting for her own food. Hermione thought back to her year on the run with the boys. Her heart clenched.
“I don’t recognize you.”
Maeve shrugged. “You wouldn’t, I s’pose. I was only a fourth year when the war started and as a muggleborn I tried to keep to myself. I did rather well, up until a week ago.”
“How’d you get caught?”
“Snatchers. We traveled a lot, hiding in caves or behind waterfalls for some extra security. We were on the run one night and landed very late. The person responsible for wards forgot a scent one. The werewolves got us before dawn.”
“Are you all right?” Hermione studied her over. She was a bit beaten up, bruises marring her arms and face, but her breathing was steady and she was sitting up without the assistance of a wall.
“‘M’fine. They tried to torture me but the Malfoy lad seemed to be having some kind of whiskey dick with his wand. Couldn’t do it.”
Hermione nodded and scooted herself closer, taking Maeve’s hand in hers once more. The girl flinched against it, but didn’t pull back.
“I’m going to get you out of here. You and all the other muggleborns.”
Maeve scoffed, averting her eyes. Hermione felt her fingers twitch in her grasp.
“Fat chance of that, the place is warded like a bitch.”
“I’m going to,” she promised. She could perhaps tell Maeve about her previous captures and how she fared then, but at the moment that felt overconfident, bordering on cocky. She would just have to show her.
“Well,” Maeve said, pulling her hand back and leaning back to rest her palms on the ground behind her, if anyone could accomplish this then I imagine it would be Hermione bloody Granger.”
|
October 2, 20xx
Haru stepped off the train at Aoyama Itchome on Sunday morning, glancing at her phone. Obviously, there were no classes for the day - but she had her rooftop garden to tend to, of course. And also, Ren had asked her to drop by the boxing club’s room. She replayed the exchange over in her mind - it was just after he had explained his final plan for the heist, after they left the simulation that Futaba and Mona had concocted in Mementos.
‘Hey, Haru - can you drop by the boxing club’s room tomorrow morning? I’m going to be doing some training, but I want to show you something after.’
The request was innocent. That wasn’t what bothered her. What bothered her was her own reaction to it - how she had agreed so quickly, the way her heart skipped a beat. And, strangely, the way Ann stood there, casually holding onto Ren’s elbow. It wasn’t
quite
jealousy. As Haru had pointed out, she had known for weeks that the two second year students were utterly besotted with each other, and she had no intention of doing something so juvenile as trying to break them up. She already considered both of them friends, after all.
‘I think it’s partially the fact that Ann-chan doesn’t even register me as a threat.’
Haru smirked slightly, amused at herself for feeling so prideful.
‘It’s just a brief crush anyway. Now that I’ve recognized it for what it is, I’ll be able to move on.’
She paused outside the club room, hearing the dull thuds of boxing gloves against a punching bag. As she pushed the doors to the former multipurpose room open, the sounds became sharp, like a whip cracking.
Ren moved in a tight arc around the bag, peppering it with combinations . He had a little smile on his face; a light sheen of sweat coated his skin. His sleeveless, fitted shirt showed off lean, powerful shoulders; a broad back spoke of accumulated hours on the pull up bar, or using the sledgehammer that was in the corner of the room. His black, unruly hair and focused grey eyes gave the impression of something wild and untamed.
‘...Yes. I’ll be able to move on. Right away…’
Haru thought, her eyes wide, her mouth dry.
Ren stopped, steadying the bag. He turned, smiling at Haru. “Hey, Haru.”
“...H-hello! Good morning.” Haru stammered.
‘Get a hold of yourself. Now. You’re an Okumura.’
To the auburn-haired girl’s credit, she drew herself up, putting on her usual polite smile. “You seem to be working hard.”
Ren grinned. “Could say the same for you. You tend the garden on Sundays, too? Ah. Anyway, the reason I brought you here…”
Haru let out a breath as he turned away.
‘Good. I’ll get through this.’
Ren bent over, rummaging through his gym bag.
Haru’s eyes widened at the view. He was in shorts. They weren’t
tight
-tight, but…
She coughed, averting her eyes. A small red envelope entered her field of vision.
“This is the calling card.” Ren said, nodding. “You can get this to your father today?”
“Ah… Yes. And once I do, we’ll all meet in the evening…?” Haru said, hesitantly.
“That’s right.” Ren replied. “...What we talked about before. Have you decided what you want to do?”
Haru shook her head. “I… after what my mother said, I’m even less certain. There’s still good in him, possibly. I just don’t know what that
means
.”
Ren pulled something else out from his bag - a small plastic case.
“I might have something that can help you. Tachibana gave me the slide that was in the microscope. After I took it out of the Metaverse, it stayed a slide - that’s why I wanted to meet you at school. If you want to look at it, we can use one of the science rooms. I’m sorry I didn’t get it to you sooner; I had to run to make it to Yuuki’s meeting with his parents.”
Haru took the slide from Ren, looking it over. “From my mother?” She said, in a small voice. “Or at least, the cognition of her…”
The two of them walked in silence to the nearest science room in Shujin. Haru turned on a microscope and placed the slide in the holder. The ocular lenses beckoned to her. She hesitated.
“...Should I even look at this?” Haru asked. “How can I trust anything from that man’s mind? One of the last untainted memories I have of my mother is of that microscope. What if he ruins this, too?”
“I can’t answer that, Haru.” Ren said, shaking his head. “You’re right. Everything in there is from his mind and heart. I can’t rule out whether or not this is some ploy to make you sympathetic to him. Or if it’s some part of his heart that still loves you, is still trying to reach you.”
“What would you do?”
“I’d look.” Ren said, holding out his arms helplessly. “But my situation is wildly different, Haru. I can’t begin to imagine what you’ve gone through. Kaa-chan and oya-ji… I don’t know what I did to deserve parents like that. But if, hypothetically, things were different… I think I’d still look. For old time’s sake. For the times where things were less complicated, less hurtful.”
Haru nodded, slowly. “I’m glad you’re here, Ren-kun.”
She looked through the microscope, bringing the slide into focus. She let out an involuntary gasp.
The image she saw was
herself
. Or more accurately, herself as a little girl. Somehow, a tiny photograph had been printed to the slide. She was sitting on a chair in her mother’s sunlit lab; her legs were dangling, not even touching the floor as she kicked excitedly. She was in front of the microscope she remembered. She wasn’t looking through the eyepiece, though. Instead, she was pointing at the slide, smiling excitedly as she looked over her shoulder at her mother.
And beside her mother, a younger Kunikazu Okumura, his arm around his laughing wife. Before worry and bitterness etched lines across his face; before years of loneliness and guilt stole his smile.
He looked down on his daughter, the pride and love clear to see. It was an image of their past happiness, frozen in time. Sealed and preserved on the glass slide.
Haru carefully leaned back from the microscope. She gestured to Ren, standing aside as he had a look.
“Oh... Haru, are you--”
“I’m fine.” Haru said, carefully composed. “It’s just a memory. One of his, most likely. I had forgotten that he used to take me there. I mean, I remember
now
. But how can this mean anything, after everything he’s done to me?”
She picked up the slide off the platform. She held it over the trash.
‘Don’t be silly, dear. Her favorite part of that class was going there with you. Just spend a little more time with her.’
‘Is it really that simple?’
Haru’s hand shook. “...Is… is this what he wishes he had? Is it something he wants to return to, or get away from? How is this from the mind of the same man who wants to pawn me off to a stranger? I don’t understand him… ...But it doesn’t matter. It’s just meaningless sentiment. It doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t.”
She let go, the glass slide falling. It was fragile, a delicate piece of microscopic art. It would almost certainly shatter when it struck the bottom of the bin.
Ren’s hand, still wrapped in cloth from training, gently caught the slide.
Haru’s face snapped up to look at him. “What are you doing? This is my decision. It’s not important to me.”
“It is.”
“It isn’t!”
Ren shook his head.
“Then why are you crying, Haru?”
Haru blinked. Her free hand wiped at her eyes, surprised to find bitter tears. She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised; years of dealing with her father’s abuse had numbed her, somewhat. And her rational mind was used to working by sealing off her own emotion. The lessons of her mother were fresh on her mind, after all.
‘Observe everything. Omit nothing. Make my conclusions only after I’ve considered all of the available information. Not while I’m making my observations. To do so introduces bias.’
And the available information was patently obvious. Haru Okumura loved the parents she once had. She loved the life she once shared with them. Her father, taking her to visit her mother at work. Smiling excitedly as she pointed out details on the slides to her parents, who feigned interest - her mother, because she had already seen the slides; her father, because he had no idea what he was looking at - but feigned gladly. Because it was a sweet little lie out of love.
They didn’t care what they were looking at; they cared only for the little girl doing the looking.
Cancer had taken Kurenai from Haru and Kunikazu. But it hadn’t taken her love. She hung on for months longer than the doctors had given her, just to steal more time with her beloved husband and daughter. That was the strength of her feelings.
But the same love tortured and twisted Kunikazu Okumura, turning him into a shade of the father Haru had loved.
The available information was objective. It simply
was
. Like love, it wasn’t beautiful or ugly. Not good nor evil. It just
existed
, until the beholder could see it, experience it.
And now, with all the information in front of her, Haru made her conclusions.
“...In what world… In what world is this
fair?
” Haru said, her voice trembling. “How is it fair that
love
be the thing to break Father? What kind of horrible world would destroy the man on that slide with
love
…?”
Ren turned the slide over in his hands quietly, thinking.
“...Because it isn’t fair, Haru. It just
is
. I wondered the same thing for a long time; I wondered what Reiko and I did to deserve what we got. I came to the conclusion that it was my fault. That I brought the world crashing down on us. But later on, she told me: if I hadn’t made the choices I did, I wouldn’t have been the guy she fell for. It wasn’t that we did anything wrong. We were just kids. It just wasn’t meant to be.”
Haru stared at the slide in Ren’s hand. “So it’s that simple? It’s not about fairness or cruelty? It’s about destiny? So I should just accept things?”
Ren shook his head. “No. Not at all. I think… I think that it just means we can’t go back, Haru. No matter how much any of us wish it.”
Gently, he reached out, taking hold of Haru’s hand. He placed the slide in her palm, closing her fingers over it.
“This man is gone. Your mother lives on only in you and in your father. You can’t go back. But maybe we can find the man that still cherishes this memory.”
Haru let out a long, quiet sigh. She looked down at her hand, still held by Ren’s. It was so warm and gentle. But as she had seen, capable of such strength. She reluctantly pulled away, placing the glass slide carefully in its case and into her pocket. “...Thank you, Ren.”
Ren smiled. “What are friends for?”
“Right. Friends.”
>>>
The bridge of the
Dominion
, the dagger-shaped dreadnought-class flagship of Shadow Kunikazu’s exodus fleet, buzzed with activity. Red and blue neon-highlighted crewmen busily calibrated weapons and flight systems, preparing for the imminent launch of the fleet. None of this activity approached the central platform of the bridge where the command chair was located. Lord Kunikazu Okumura stood alone in front of it, reading a datapad held in his black-gauntleted hand. His breath rasped regularly from the respirator that covered his nose and mouth, exposing the rest of his pale, scarred face and yellow eyes.
“Lord Kunikazu Okumura, the great profiteering sinner of greed. Your success and global fame exists due to the tyranny you rain down upon your employees. Thus, we will make you confess your crimes with your own mouth…”
He let go of the tablet - it hung in the air in front of him, levitating briefly. A crimson flash from his lightsaber slashed it in half.
“Come if you dare.” He said, amused.
Alarm klaxons abruptly rang out and an automated timer for twenty minutes appeared on the main screen of the
Dominion
.
On the screen, it showed eight figures, backlit by the glowing figures of their Personas. They paused for a moment, looking to the central figure. Kunikazu recognized him as Joker - the young man who broke Haru out of the auction house and survived an encounter with Tachibana.
Under his respirator, Kunikazu sneered.
‘What a waste. If only Tachibana could have been brought into the fold. ...No matter. I do not need her.’
He watched calmly as the Phantom Thieves began their assault. They were well-coordinated and efficient. They looked as though they had drilled their approach down to the minute. But even now, Kunikazu could see it would be useless. They had to know there would be no chance of reaching the Treasure Room. At their pace, getting to the entrance alone would barely be within twenty minutes; fighting through the labyrinth as well would be an impossibility.
A passing crewmember eyed Kunikazu cautiously as his respirator made an odd sound.
The dark lord was chuckling.
“Ah… Predictable. Clever, but ultimately predictable.” Kunikazu intoned.
“My lord…?” The crewmember asked.
“Their target isn’t the Treasure Room. Double the troops around the escort ships, both the cruisers and the fighters.”
>>>
“Come on, get your asses moving, rogues! Turn up the heat!” Ren shouted. He advanced, guns blazing.
Ryuji rolled his eyes, deflecting a light disc with his shotgun before directing William to return fire with a blast of lightning. It wiped out the attacker along with the assault vehicle he rode. “I’m getting really tired of him saying that.”
“Deal with it!” Makoto replied. She performed a baseball slide under a hovering light tank, narrowly dodging laserfire from the smaller turret mounted on the main gun. She slapped an adhesive explosive on the underside of the vehicle before rolling away, clear of the ensuing explosion.
Haru’s grenade launcher fired constantly; Ryuji worked alongside her with his own explosives.
Ann and Celestine turned entire groups of guards into ash. The blonde girl looked exhausted.
Yusuke winced, standing at the center of the formation with his sword drawn. Gorokichi was above him, miming the artist’s stance as he effectively tanked for their formation. “I cannot keep this up! They’re sending all troops to the escort cruisers and fighters! How much time is left?!”
Makoto tapped her radio. “Oracle! Time?!”
“Two minutes! Keep it up!”
“Roger! Not much more left, Fox! Let’s make this look good!” Makoto shouted. She summoned Agnes; she blasted forward, sideswiping an approaching battalion before incinerating multiple assault vehicles in nuclear fire.
They reached the launch platform for the escort fleet; just beyond this, the massive shape of the
Dominion
loomed.
“10 seconds!” Futaba’s voice called, over the radio.
The Phantom Thieves fought harder, trying to make one last push. Ren dashed forward, the Black Wing equipped. His hand reached for the last open hatch of a starfighter…
It slammed shut.
The concussive blast of multiple spaceships taking off knocked the Phantom Thieves off their feet; they were left standing there, watching as Kunikazu Okumura made his escape towards ‘utopia’ with his Treasure.
Ryuji stood up, groaning. “Oh…
damn
. That was hard.”
Makoto sighed. “Yes. But we accomplished our part.”
Yusuke sighed, as he disembarked a hijacked light armored vehicle. “...With half the manpower, that was indeed challenging.”
Ann drank some coffee from Leblanc, leaning against the vehicle that Yusuke had just parked. She nearly dropped it as the image of Mona scampered by her feet, brandishing his curved shamshir sword. The image blurred briefly as it ran
through
the parked vehicle, appearing on the other side.
“Don’t I look cool!?” The illusion shouted, before slashing at a nonexistent enemy.
“Come on, get your asses moving, rogues! Turn up the heat!” Ren shouted.
Again
.
Haru still fired her grenade launcher, the phantom munitions creating explosions that did nothing, now that Ann was no longer frantically casting double the amount of fire spells to make it seem as though both she and Haru were covering the assault with artillery-style attacks.
Ann rolled her eyes. “Queen, can you
please
turn those off, now?”
Makoto clicked a button on a wristband that Futaba had given her. The illusions winked out of existence. “A clever trick. I’m impressed that Joker thought of it, and that Oracle and Mona were able to implement it…”
“They should have recorded more catch phrases. If I hear him say ‘Turn up the heat!’ one more time…” Ryuji groused.
The ground started to shake.
Yusuke climbed back into the armored vehicle. “That would be inner hub beginning to self-destruct. We should go.”
>>>
Lord Kunikazu stood on the bridge of the
Dominion
, his arms crossed as he watched the Phantom Thieves stare up at the departing exodus fleet. Under his mask, he smirked as the blonde boy slowly got up, turning to say something to the one with spiked pauldrons. He gestured - the screen changed views, instead showing his fleet, leaving the planet behind in perfect formation.
“How foolhardy, to place all of your hopes in such a low-probability strategy.” Kunikazu said. “Helm. Set course for…”
He paused. Where
was
utopia…?
“...Sir?”
“...Set course for the edge of the solar system. I shall direct you further from there.”
“...so call them, and tell them to fall back!” Kunikazu caught a harsh whisper coming from another crewman, standing at a communications console.
“Is there a problem?” Kunikazu asked, his voice deep, foreboding. He approached, stopping beside the very frightened crewman who was manning the station. His fellow officer wisely stepped away, back to his own station.
“N-n-no, sir! Nothing! It’s just one of the support ships, it isn’t staying in formation. It’s nothing you need to worry about. I’ll--”
“
I
will decide what I should worry about, crewman. Call them.”
The crewman pressed a button on the console. “This is
Dominion
. Transport
Firefly
, come in.
Firefly,
come in.”
A young-sounding female voice answered.
“...Y-yes? This is
Firefly.
Everything’s fine, under control. Situation normal. We’re fine here, everyone’s fine. ...How are you?”
The crewman blinked. He started to answer, when more audio came through.
“--eriously, Oracle? You’re going to go with that?!”
“Well, that Tachibana chick said ‘boring conversation’, and I didn’t think it was right that we didn’t complete the reference…”
“I mean, I like a good reference more than anyone, but that’s literally a heavily armed battleship— oh, fuck, is this thing on?” asked Joker, his voice clearly coming through.
“Nice one, Joker.”
Kunikazu slammed his fist on the console. “Enough! I see, now. You used your fellows as a diversion to get aboard a transport ship, rather than the heavily guarded escorts or the
Dominion
. And now the Treasure you seek is inside this ship, instead of an impregnable fortress… But the ruse is over! What do you hope to accomplish with an
unarmed
transport?”
“Just hold on a second, I wrote something down for this.”
The crewman and Kunikazu exchanged glances as they heard the rustling of paper, the sound of someone searching pockets.
“...Right. Lord Kunikazu Okumura,
the great profiteering sinner of greed. Your success and global fame exists due to the tyranny you rain down upon your employees--”
“Joker, that was on the calling card.” Mona said. “He’s heard that already.”
“Right. Right. Tyranny, confession, etcetera etcetera… ....Right. We, the Phantom Thieves, will accept nothing but your unconditional surrender. You have thirty seconds--”
Kunikazu laughed. “
Unconditional surrender
? Are you insane?!”
A pause.
“Uh, excuse you. Rude. As I was saying, you have thirty seconds to either comply, or to fall victim to this lengthy distraction.”
“...What?!”
“Light ‘em up, Noir!”
>>>
Haru stood on the top of the
Firefly
, magnetically clamped to the hull of the ship via her space suit’s boots.
“Milady!” Haru called.
The Persona appeared; her petticoats slid apart, revealing the vast multitude of artillery-style weaponry.
“Fire!”
The opening salvo destroyed or disabled the entirety of the escort fleet, caught off-guard and vulnerable. The transport ship, surprisingly agile, darted in toward the
Dominion
. Green turbolaser bolts slashed through the blackness of space at the
Firefly
.
Inside the ship, Futaba handled the controls, desperately evading laserfire and torpedos.
“I am a leaf on the wind. Watch as I soar!”
Ren shook his head, laughing fondly. “You do you, Gremlin. Get us close. Too close for them to draw a bead on us.”
He turned, heading up to join Haru. Mona remained behind, able to heal them both without being on the surface of the ship. Haru and Ren laid into the
Dominion
with their Personas, targeting the dreadnought’s engines. The behemoth slowed - but didn’t stop. They simply weren’t doing enough damage.
The
Firefly
shuddered as it took a hit to its left stabilizer.
“Joker, Noir! We can’t take much more of this!” Futaba called, on the radio.
“We have to!” Ren said, summoning Seth. A critical hit took down another engine. “We won’t get another shot!”
Haru cried out, taking a hit.
Ren willed Parvati to come forth, healing Haru. “Mona! Where are you? We need you on top of this!”
“...Joker. Joker, Mona’s not on the ship!”
“What?!”
>>>
The engine room of the
Dominion
was usually quiet. The starship was largely automated, and actually didn’t require a large crew to run it. But it wasn’t usually
this
quiet.
“Urk…”
The last crewman slumped to the ground as Mona pulled his shamshir out of his back. During the chaos, the cat-bandit had donned a suit, using one of the
Firefly’s
close passes to make the move over to the
Dominion
.
Mona’s radio crackled to life.
“Mona!” Joker yelled. “What are you doing?! Oracle found your signal on the
Dominion
! What are you--”
“Joker, I’m sorry. But we weren’t doing enough damage, right? We have to bring this ship down no matter what. So… I’m sorry. Sorry for what I did. And I’m sorry for this as well. Don’t blame yourself, okay? I want to do this for you. For our ‘family’. You’re… you’re a great leader. With or without me.”
“Mona, wa--”
Mona turned his radio off. He took it off, dropping it on the ground.
“Now, time to bring this thing down…”
The -
snap/hiss-
of an extending lightsaber made Mona’s blood run cold.
“Quite the clever plan. First, a diversion to get on a transport ship. Then another diversion, to start the assault. And then to complete the strategy, a sacrificial pawn to checkmate the
Dominion
.”
Mona ducked under a slash of the red blade; sparks flew from the metal bulkhead as the laser sword cut through the metal. He leapt back, drawing his shamshir. “Joker wouldn’t just throw one of us away! He’s not like you. I’m here by my own choice! I’m doing it for my family! Zorro!”
The Persona appeared. Mona glanced at the lightsaber, how it had cut through metal like butter. Mona willed his partner to surround his shamshir with an aura of cutting wind.
Kunikazu, in his black armor and cape, stepped forward, unfazed. He cut down at Mona again.
Mona met the sword with his own. He winced involuntarily - but it held.
Kunikazu laughed. “Wise. But you would have been wiser to remain on your ship.”
Mona grunted in pain as Kunikazu moved impossibly fast, kicking the cat-bandit hard into a wall. The shamshir clattered to the ground. Kunikazu gestured, making a fist. Mona was lifted into the air; it felt like someone was throttling him.
“Your death would have been much less painful. And you could have died with your friends. Two useless criminals and my treacherous daughter. I think I’ll have you watch your friends perish first…”
A holographic screen appeared - it showed the
Firefly,
sparks fire coming from a stabilizer as it tried to fight the
Dominion
. Ren and Haru weren’t firing away as enthusiastically now, knowing Mona was on board.
“See? Your presence here has hamstrung them. They cannot attack, but now will not retreat, either. You will watch them die, and then you will follow, knowing that it was your foolhardy decision that led to their deaths.”
Mona gasped. “..N...Not like this…”
‘...It’s… it’s not done yet. My task isn’t done. I… Not like this!’
Kunikazu’s eyes widened; his telekinetic hold suddenly weakened.
Mona’s eyes locked onto Kunikazu, his vision focused - and golden.
“Diego! Come to me!”
The vision of a gentleman with a rapier, cape, and mask appeared behind Mona as the cat-bandit landed lightly on the metal floor. Don Diego de la Vega raised his rapier in salute to his opponent - and then vanished.
And so did Mona.
A black and white blur shot forward, taking up his shamshir once again.
Kunikazu slashed down at the small thief, finding only air.
Mona leapt and whirled, his shamshir glowing green as he slashed and parried.
Kunikazu stepped back, his crimson blade flashing around him defensively - his opponent moved like the wind, his shorter height and reach turning into an advantage. Mona was simply
everywhere
. His attacks came from below knee level, or above head height as he leapt, springing off walls, his green-glowing weapon flashing and parrying.
Kunikazu put his back to the engine room, trying to push Mona down the hallway.
Abruptly, the cat-bandit flung his sword at Kunikazu. The dark lord sidestepped quickly, the blade knocking his respirator off his mouth. He winced, snarling at Mona with his yellow teeth and cracked lips bared.
“Foolish, to cast aside your weapon!...”
The ship shook and groaned. Kunikazu turned to see the shamshir buried in the engine core. Sparks and smoke started to pour out with increasing intensity.
“Rebel scum--”
>>>
Ren looked on in horror as a section of the
Dominion
’s hull exploded out into space. The behemoth of a ship ground to a halt, hanging in the silence of space for a moment. It then started to drift and fall back toward the planet, not quite free of the grip of gravity.
Haru gasped. “Mona-chan…!”
Ren shook his head. “He might make it! Oracle! Plot the crash zone! Send the others to it, and make sure they’re ready with heals. Take us in after it!”
>>>
The
Dominion’s
emergency power kicked in during the descent back to the ground, just enough to turn what should have been an apocalyptic explosion into a rough landing. The hull breached in multiple places; metal bulkheads were torn asunder. But the ship was, for the most part, whole.
The armored vehicle that Yusuke appropriated pulled up to the wreckage, with Makoto riding Agnes as an escort.
The ship dwarfed them; it was at least twice the size of the real world’s largest aircraft carrier.
“Holy… how the hell are we supposed to try to find Mona in that…?” Ryuji mumbled.
“We aren’t going to try. We’re going to
do
it.” Ann said, determined. She had heard Ren’s voice over the radio; his heart was already on the verge of breaking. “He’s alive. Oracle detected his signal.”
The four Phantom Thieves made their way carefully towards the
Dominion’s
engines. As they reached the back of the ship, the roar of the
Firefly
landing caught their attention. The cargo hatch of the ship opened; Ren, Haru, and Futaba quickly disembarked. The orange-haired girl pointed frantically at the rearmost hull breach. “In there! His signal is in there--”
A whirling flash of red cut her off - and it very nearly cut off her head, barely diving to the ground in time to dodge.
The lightsaber arced back to Lord Kunikazu, where the man grabbed the hilt of the weapon. His respirator was off; Haru gasped as she looked at the face of her father. His skin was grey, his lips cracked. Multiple scars marred his visage. Golden eyes stared starkly out from the corpse-like skin. He stood in front of a breach in the hull; the Treasure pulsed behind him in what was left of the engine room. A glowing orb sealed inside a metal cylinder.
“You… what have you
done
to yourself…?” Haru murmured.
“I have done what is necessary, Haru.” Kunikazu said, simply. “And I will continue to do so. You may have destroyed my fleet, but I do not need to flee the planet to attain victory. I need only kill all of
you
.”
“...Where is he.”
Kunikazu looked over to Ren. He smiled, cruelly. “Ah. Your little friend. He fought bravely, you know. He said he chose to sacrifice himself for his ‘family’.”
Ren dashed forward, his arms clad in armor instantly. His black blades, glowing with cursed flame, cracked and sparked as they made contact with Kunikazu’s crimson lightsaber. “Where is he?!”
The Phantom Thieves drew their weapons, but were unable to get a clear shot. Ren was too close.
“Bleeding out. Slowly.” Kunikazu laughed. He shoved Ren backward.
Ryuji raised his shotgun as Ren stumbled safely back - the weapon was yanked free from his hands, spun, and discharged into his chest.
“Ryuji!” Makoto screamed, as the boy crumpled. Frantically, she cast every healing spell at her disposal.
The blonde boy groaned; he would live, but he was effectively out of the fight.
“You son of a
bitch!
” Ren snarled.
The remaining Phantom Thieves charged forward. But, awareness of one’s Palace not only lent itself to impossible traps and greater defenses. It also meant greater abilities for one’s Shadow. Kunikazu had only been pressed by Mona due to the chaos of his ship going down and due to the unexpected Second Awakening.
One by one, the Phantom Thieves were disabled by powers inspired by Kunikazu’s favorite films. Yusuke fell, writing in pain from dark lightning. Ann was thrown brutally into a bulkhead by telekinetic force, knocked out. Ren and Haru, nearly cut to ribbons by the lightsaber. Makoto was stretched to her limit just keeping them all alive.
Futaba drew her Desert Eagle, her hands trembling, eyes wide.
Kunikazu laughed, mockingly. “Oh, little girl. Don’t think I’ll show you any mercy…”
“We’re… ...we’re still your opponents, you piece of
shit
.” Ren snarled. In his desperation, he felt something in the corner of his heart. Something he had only just brushed, during his fight against Tachibana. Untold power for an unknown price. He glanced at his remaining allies - Makoto, pale, drawn out. Haru, clutching her side with one hand, her bardiche with the other. Futaba… who suddenly looked at Ren, pushing her mask up.
“...Joker. Joker, I can’t detect Mona’s signal anymore… He’s… he…”
Ren’s eyes widened.
Suddenly, the price was immaterial. He roared, charging forward. His blades flashed; his armor started to fragment. Black flame started to creep across Ren’s chest, linking the pauldrons.
Kunikazu parried, forced on the defensive. But he laughed. Even as Ren’s blades gave him glancing blows, he laughed. The cursed flame had no effect on him, a being already corrupted by dark power.
Ren’s hard right-straight blew Kunikazu’s blade back; his right arm went up involuntarily from the force of the hit. Ren immediately followed with a left hook to Kunikazu’s flank.
Kunikazu smiled. He dropped his lightsaber from his right, catching it with his left hand.
Ren’s hook missed the mark as he was slashed across the stomach. He fell forward with a strangled cry of pain and surprise, the Black Wing armor fragmenting and fading. Makoto expended the last of her power in keeping Ren from being completely eviscerated. He was unable to stand.
Laughing, Kunikazu raised his lightsaber. Crimson light cut down toward Ren’s neck. Ren stared upward defiantly, showing no fear even in the face of his impending death.
A flash of a green blade deflected the blow; a black and white blur leapt up, slashing off Kunikazu’s right hand at the wrist.
Kunikazu screamed, stumbling backward. “...You! I killed you!”
Mona stood there, bleeding from multiple wounds, but very much alive. “You
tried
! Turns out Diego lets me play dead pretty well, too!”
Futaba gasped. “...Mona!”
Mona turned to look at the others, quickly recognizing their injuries. “...Oh, no. Diego!” He started casting healing spells.
Kunikazu snarled, lunging forward, cold lightning flaring at the fingertips of his remaining hand. “No! This is MY world!”
The blunt end of Haru’s bardiche slammed into his temple, knocking him to the ground.
The newest Phantom Thief moved quickly; she reached into the wreckage of the
Dominion
, yanking free the power core - the Treasure.
Kunikazu sat on his knees. His shoulders slumped. “I… ...you’ve taken it.”
“We have.” Haru said. She stood behind Kunikazu, with her axe-like weapon. In that moment, she looked less a thief, and more an executioner.
“I feel… lighter, now.” Kunikazu said. “I can see clearly. ..Haru. For what it’s worth, I never intended for things to turn out like this. I became too focused. Obsessed with keeping my promise to your mother. So obsessed that I lost sight of what she truly wanted. And by the time I realized it, I was in too deep. Too much shame, too much guilt. Too much blood on my hands. I… ...I just wanted to get away. ...Do what you must. I am no father to you.”
Haru closed her eyes; her hands tensed on the axe.
Kunikazu flinched, feeling something touching his shoulder - lining up the cut of the axe, most likely. He closed his eyes. The touch, however, turned into pressure. He opened his eyes, seeing Haru’s gloved hand on his shoulder. She now stood in front of him, looking down at him.
“You’re right. As you are, you aren’t my father. You aren’t the man that Kurenai Okumura loved; you aren’t the man who took me to dance class, or took me to visit Mother.” Haru said, quietly. “...But a completely evil man wouldn’t care to remember those moments, would he?”
“...The lab. You saw the slide…?”
“I did. Kunikazu-- ...Father. We can’t go back to those days. Not ever. But… but I hope we can try to move forward, together.”
Kunikazu trembled. “Yes… Haru, yes. Let us try, together. I will rescind the marriage contracts, the deals with Sugimura. You and I… We will be a family again. One that Kurenai will watch over proudly.”
Haru smiled, standing. She wiped at her eyes. “I hope so, Father. I’ll see you - the real you - soon.”
Mona frowned. “Wait. We need to ask you one more thing. Were you responsible for the mental shutdowns and psychotic breaks?”
Kunikazu shook his head. “No. Not directly. As powerful as Okumura Foods is, I am but a cog in a much larger conspiracy. All I had to do was make a phone call, and the Left Hand would take care of it…”
Ren, leaning on Ann, shook his head. “An assassin for hire with access to the Metaverse… Who’s at the top of this? Who’s calling the shots?”
Kunikazu opened his mouth. His eyes darted to Haru. He stiffened, shaking his head. “I won’t say.”
Ryuji leveled his shotgun at the man. “Try again.”
“I won’t!” Kunikazu shouted. He sounded different - alive. Concerned. “If I say anything, you’ll get more involved! You barely defeated
me
! Haru… I
won’t
let anyone endanger Haru! I’ll die, first!”
“Father…” Haru breathed.
The ground shook.
“We’re out of time! The Palace is collapsing!” Mona said. He turned into his cat-bus form. “We’ve gotta go!”
“Damn it…” Ryuji cursed. The Phantom Thieves made a hasty exit.
Kunikazu watched them go, still on his knees.
There was a faint -
thud-
behind him as someone jumped down from a perch on the
Dominion
, landing on the ground below. Kunikazu recognized the sound of a pistol being cocked.
“Of course… The Left Hand, himself.”
“The same.”
“Well? Be done with it, then.”
Akechi smiled. “You’re not going to threaten me? Negotiate? Beg for your life?”
“I won’t give you the satisfaction, you degenerate.”
“Oh, don’t sell yourself short. I’m sure you will. And if you don’t, I’ll get it elsewhere.” Akechi leaned forward, whispering. “You see, I know who each of them are. I know where each of them live. I might even ask your sweet little girl out on a date. I’m sure
she
can satisfy me. In all sorts of ways--”
Kunikazu started to leap to his feet. “NO! No--”
A single shot rang out.
Kunikazu collapsed forward, blood pouring from the hole in his skull, his golden eyes lifeless. His body vanished into shadowy wisps.
Akechi laughed. “See? I knew you could do it. Of course, that’s just the appetizer… The main course… Well. That particular steak needs a little tenderizing first.”
>>>
“You know Mona, you were basically normal this time when you got close to the Treasure.” Ann said, curiously.
Mona, sitting in Ren’s bag and perched partly on his shoulder, nodded. “That’s true, Ann-dono. I wasn’t really thinking about it. I was too worried about all of you.”
“Aw, that’s sweet, MonaMona.” Futaba said, smiling.
Ann nodded. “I’d say that’s a pretty human response, Mona. Right, Wildcard?”
Ren nodded absently. He had been fairly quiet since they exited the Metaverse. Mona, Futaba, and Ann exchanged worried glances. The three of them were on the way back to Leblanc together. From Ann’s observation of the boxer, he wasn’t angry. But he was clearly worked up. His shoulders were tense, his jaw was clenched slightly.
By the time they reached Leblanc, Sojiro had already gone home for the night. As Ren fished in his pocket for his key, Futaba tried one last hail-Mary attempt to get Ren to laugh. She hated puns, but she was desperate.
“...Ne, RenRen! I bought a great walking stick the other day. CANE you believe it!?”
Ren paused. He turned, looking at Futaba.
Ann and Mona also stared at the girl, wordlessly, with expressions that were a mix of amazement and disgust.
“...Sorry. I’ll just show myself out.” Futaba mumbled, heading to her house.
Ren finally spoke as they stepped inside.
“Songbird, do you mind heading upstairs first? I want to talk to Morgana.” Ren said.
“...Oh. Sure, Wildcard. Just let me know if you need anything.” The blonde girl turned, disappearing up the stairs.
Mona hopped out of Ren’s bag, sitting on the counter across from the boxer.
“H-hey, Ren. I know you’re probably mad. That’s totally okay. I… I just wanted to make sure we would succeed, right? I…!!”
Ren suddenly stepped forward, pulling Mona into his arms. He actually
hugged
the tuxedo cat.
“Ren! What are you doing?! Not so tight!…” He quieted, realizing that the boxer’s shoulders were trembling slightly. “Ren…”
“I thought you were gone, Mona.” Ren said, quietly. “I thought you were gone, and it was horrible.”
“...Sorry, Ren.”
“It’s like what you said, Mona. We’re family. We all are. And it isn’t worth it if all of us don’t get to come back home. Even if I can be a great leader without you, I don’t
want
to.”
Mona nodded. He headbutted Ren’s shoulder affectionately. “Right. I… I don’t want that, either. Now, you should probably let me go, before--”
-
Click-
Ann waved, from the stairwell. Her own eyes were misty too.
“-
sniffle-
Found my new lockscreen picture. Oh, you guys…”
“Not cool, Songbird. Not cool.”
>>>
HO: Hey, everyone. When I went home, I talked to my father in his study…
RS: and?! how did it go!?
HO: He apologized for everything… He even called Hisamoto Sugimura in front of me and canceled the marriage deal. He then shredded the contracts.
AT: That’s great!
HO: It is… but he’s acting strangely. He’s subdued. He locked himself in his study afterward and isn’t eating much.
YK: Madarame acted much the same, Haru. I do not think you have anything to worry about.
RA: Yeah. I’m sure things will turn out fine.
HO: Yes. Of course - thank you. Will I see you at school tomorrow?
MN: Yes. We’ll all be there - exams are coming up, after all.
(A determined, red/brown eyed black cat with ‘mew got this!’ under it)
RS: Seriously!?
(Sad porcupine.)
RA: Please. I bet you’re looking forward to ‘studying’
MN: What’s that supposed to mean?!
FS:
(Banana Donut Banana Donut Banana Donut)
MN: ...What in the world?
AT: ...oh my. Futaba, that’s inappropriate.
MN: ....Oh my god.
Haru giggled, putting her phone down as the text conversation turned into good-natured bickering between friends. She was glad - no one had picked up on the fact that she wasn’t asking if
everyone
was going to be at school.
She shook her head.
‘...I’m just grateful. That’s it.
’
And she was. Thanks to Ren, she now had something she never imagined possible - a chance to patch things up with her father. Her mother was never coming back… And almost certainly, Kunikazu would see jail time for his crimes. But at least there was a chance at a meaningful relationship, and a future.
For the first time in awhile, life was looking good. She had a father again; she had friends she could rely on.
Haru turned, smiling into her pillow.
Much like Ren last year, she never imagined that life had become just good enough for her to feel the fall that much more acutely.
>>>
October 4, 20xx
“This
sucks
.” Ann pouted.
“Whining doesn’t make exams
not
be less than two weeks away, Songbird.” Ren said, munching on his fries as he read over his notes. Ren, Ann, Mona, Makoto, and Ryuji were gathered around a table at Jonathan’s.
“Fine.” Ann read a few more sentences. Something about Admiral Perry, the black ships…
“...Hey. Aren’t Shiho and Haru supposed to be here?” Ann asked.
“Stop trying to change the subject, Songbird.” Ren replied, placidly. He ate another fry.
“I’m not--”
“You are.”
Ryuji snickered. Even Makoto looked amused at Ann’s reticence. The blonde girl really was doing better in school lately, no longer just cruising by on her English grade. But she still would rather do almost anything else.
Ann pouted. Unfortunately, Ren wisely kept his eyes focused on the papers, knowing his vulnerability to the expression. So, Ann tried a different tactic. She slid Ren’s basket of fries away from him.
“Hey!”
“What? It’s weight management.” Ann said, innocently.
“I don’t have a fight coming up! I’m not even officially boxing this year!” Ren protested.
“Oh. Well, you’re getting a little chubby.”
“!! You…!” Ren glared at Ann.
She smiled at him impishly. “Mad? Wanna take me home and
punish
me?”
Ryuji gagged; Mona rolled his eyes.
Ren’s mouth opened - he then composed himself, before taking his fries back. He leaned closer to Ann, who was seated beside him. “Hey, Songbird. Tell you what. For every half hour you can stay focused, I’ll…”
His voice dropped low enough so that the other three couldn’t hear.
Ann’s eyes widened; she gasped and blushed faintly. She suddenly sat up straighter, clapping her hands. “Right! Focus! Really, Wildcard, you need to stop distracting me.”
Makoto blinked. “That’s… remarkable. Ann, what did he offer you? If it’s that effective, maybe I could do the same for Ryuji.”
Ann blinked; she and Ren exchanged glances and burst out laughing.
“...What? What’s so funny?” Makoto asked, frowning.
“Yeah. I mean, is it a good thing? Like something to eat?” Ryuji asked, curious.
“...Oh. Oh yeah, something to eat, alright--Ow!”
Ann extricated her elbow from Ren’s side.
The group studied for awhile longer. Their phones buzzed; Makoto glanced at hers. “Ah. Haru’s nearby. She’s having trouble finding the diner, though.”
Ren stood. “Yeah, the sign’s broken right now, so it’s probably hard to see in the dark. I’ll step outside and find her.”
He stepped outside, walking down the stairs to street level. The weather was already changing, thankfully - the switch back to winter uniforms would have been intolerable, otherwise. He tapped at the screen of his smartphone.
RA: Hey, Haru. I’m outside. Where are you?
HO: I’m righ
Ren frowned.
‘ ‘righ’...? What does that mean--’
His thoughts were interrupted by the voices drifting out of the nearby alley.
“Please, I’m just going to meet up with my friends…”
“Oh, come on, baby. We can be your friends.”
“No.”
“Well, we
tried
to be polite. Maybe you just like aggressive guys…”
“Hey! Let go!”
Ren rounded the corner, into the alleyway. There, Haru stood, smacking a thuggish looking man with her bag.
“Let. Me. GO!” She yelled, whacking him again.
“Ow! Damnit! You fucking bitch!” He raised his hand.
Ren caught his wrist, his voice tinged with sarcasm. “You know, I get it. After the first two smacks to your face with her school bag, I thought she might have been playing hard to get. Pretty sure the third one means ‘no’, though.”
The man’s friend started to flank Ren.
Ren shifted his grip, doing what Makoto had shown him once before. The hold on the man’s wrist turned into an exceedingly painful joint lock.
“Augh! Ah! Leggo!”
“Oh. Wow. I’ll have to thank Her Excellency. Wrists really aren’t supposed to bend that way…” Ren said, placidly. He spoke to the man’s friend, without looking. “Your enthusiasm for two on one tactics is noted. If you want your friend here to have full use of his hand, I might suggest you re-think your flanking maneuver.”
Fortunately, it was re-thought. Ren led Haru inside. Admirably, she wasn’t shaken up. She was
annoyed.
She sat down, grumbling.
“If we were in the Metaverse, I would have taken them apart…” Haru groused.
Ren smiled. “I don’t doubt it.”
Makoto sighed. “Those guys… They were the same ones staring at me and Ann when we arrived with Ren and Ryuji. I had a feeling they would have made a move if we had been alone.”
Ann cracked her knuckles. “I almost wish they had.”
Haru looked curiously at Makoto and Ann. “So… Mako-chan, Ann-chan, you both know martial arts?”
Makoto nodded. “My father taught me while I was growing up, and I started practising seriously again. Ann’s picked up some boxing from Ren.”
Haru frowned. “I’m a little jealous. It seems there’s no shortage of people who want to try pushing me around physically. First Hisahito Sugimura, then my father…”
Ryuji perked up. “Ah. Well, you could take some self-defense classes?”
Haru blinked. “Oh. That’s a good idea. Mako-chan, Ann-chan, could you two teach me? If I could perform that wrist lock, or some punch combinations…”
Ren shook his head. “It’s different, with Makoto and Ann. Makoto’s not a beginner, and Ann just started learning for fun months ago. I’m not saying you shouldn’t start, Haru, but if you want something more immediate, you shouldn’t start with combinations or joint locks.”
“Why? It seemed pretty effective.”
“I used to teach some self-defense classes with my coach. We focused on single, hard strikes to vulnerable points. Just enough to create the separation necessary for you to run away. In the stress of an assault, most people without experience can’t pull off the coordination needed for locks or combos.” Ren said. “If you want, I could teach you a bit? I’ve been meaning to show Futaba some stuff, ever since the otaku incident in Akihabara…”
Haru smiled. “Well, you have to admit, Futaba-chan was pretty resourceful.”
Ren sighed, but chuckled with some resignation. “I’m not sure popping an antacid and foaming at the mouth to pretend she had rabies is ‘resourceful’... Though, in her words, it was ‘super-effective’.”
“Anyway. Back to work!” Ann chirped, making eyes at Ren.
Ren smirked.
They studied for a couple more hours, until the group gradually devolved into friendly chatter.
“So, you all always go for a celebration, after?” Haru asked, curiously.
“We do!” Ryuji said, grinning. “Where should we go this time?”
Ren frowned. “We’ll need to ask Yusuke and Futaba as well. We’ve done the beach, fireworks, the buffet…”
Ann perked up. “Oh! I vote the Wilton again.”
Haru smiled. “...You know? I think I have just the place.”
>>>
October 11, 20xx
“This is the
shit
…!” Ryuji said, finishing his dessert. The group sat together at an outdoor table in Destinyland, at the conclusion of a lavish meal with full sit-down table service.
Yusuke nodded. “Yes. While my language is rarely as colorful as Ryuji’s, I must agree. This is indeed ‘the shit’.”
Haru smiled. “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourselves! You know, there’s also going to be a fireworks show…”
Ann gasped. “Really?! Just for us!?”
“Yes!” Haru said. “It’s the least I could do. You know, my father said he was going to get in touch with Tachibana-san again? He mentioned it after I told him that I was learning some self-defense. He said he wanted someone I trust to look out for me.”
Ren frowned, warily. “
That
Tachibana…?” He reflexively rubbed his left thigh, remembering the thrashing he received.
“I’m sure she won’t stab you in real life, Wildcard.” Ann said. She paused, glancing at Haru’s thoughtful expression. “...Will she?”
“N-no. Probably not. But I remember that she used to care deeply for my mother, and by extension, myself. It was quite thoughtful of Father to suggest it. I’d love to see her again.” Haru said. “Anyway… This place has a fairly good view of the fireworks. There’s another spot right there, though. Up on the castle’s battlements. It’s apparently one of the most romantic spots in Destinyland.”
Ryuji looked up at the castle in time to see a test shot of the fireworks - the battlements were
directly
under them. It was the perfect view; it would look like the sky was exploding all around them into color…
Ren turned to Ann. “Hey, Songbird--Ouch!”
Ann turned, just in time to see Ryuji drag Ren away from the table.
“Dude, you gotta help me…!”
Ann frowned. She had a feeling Ren was going to ask her up to the castle battlements. “Hey! Ryuji, where do you think you’re taking my boyfriend-- Eh?”
Makoto was suddenly beside Ann. She spoke quietly, desperately to her. “Ann! Ann, you’ve
got
to help me.”
>>>
And so, as the fireworks started, Ren found himself creeping quietly through a building across from the faux castle. The view of the fireworks wouldn’t be as good, but it would afford him a good view of the battlements. And in turn, a good view of Makoto and Ryuji. He made his way to the top floor, to a large window that would allow him to see them, but shadowed enough to ensure they wouldn’t see
him.
He froze.
Someone was already standing in the shadows near the window, looking up at Ryuji and Makoto. The pair of them were leaning on the battlements already, watching the first explosions of color in the night sky.
Ren snuck closer.
‘Not going to let some random creep spy on my friends…’
“..Good. You’ve got this. Now, tell him you’re glad that he invited you.”
Ren stepped on a particularly squeaky floorboard just as another firework exploded, lighting up both his features - and Ann, who was already standing at the window. From his view, he could see a small earbud in her right ear - a twin to the one he had in his own ear.
She gasped; she quickly muted the radio clipped to her collar, hissing at Ren. “What are you doing here?!”
“What are
you
doing here?!” Ren asked, muting his own radio.
Ann looked at the radio. “...you. You flaked on me to coach Ryuji?!”
“Well, didn’t you flake on me to coach Makoto?”
The two exchanged glares. Ann’s lower lip started to quiver.
Ren’s eyebrow started to twitch.
They burst into laughter.
“Oh my God… This is so stupid.” Ann gasped.
“I know. I know, right? Ryuji
begged
me. They’re literally in the most romantic spot in this park, and he’s still overthinking it.” Ren said, laughing. He paused, holding up a finger as they listened in to the conversation.
“I said, I wonder what
Ren’s
up to right now.” Ryuji said, his voice tinged with anxiety.
“W-why are you asking like that? I mean,
Ann
would say that’s super-weird.” Makoto said, in an oddly high-pitched voice.
Ren, his eyes twinkling with mischief, winked at Ann. He pushed the button on his mic. “Sorry, buddy. Had to get into position. I’m here now. Tell her... you like her ears.”
Ann gasped, a hand over her mouth. “Ren! Don’t! He’ll actually--”
“I uh, like your ears?”
Ann smacked Ren’s arm, nearly dying from stifled laughter. “You’re terrible.”
Ren grinned. “So, Songbird. Wanna play chicken?”
>>>
“I uh, like your ears?” Ryuji said, looking confused as he relayed the statement he had heard through his nearly invisible earbud. The confusion only grew as he watched Makoto look away, and to her right. She might have even shaken her head briefly before her shoulders slumped slightly in resignation.
“...Th-thanks,
hot stuff
. They’re my… best feature.” Makoto mumbled, blushing brightly.
‘ ‘Hot stuff’…?’
Ryuji thought.
‘Is this actually working?!’
Makoto was mortified. She turned aside during a particularly loud explosion, hissing into her mic. “No, Ann! I am
not
saying that!”
“Do you want my help or not?” Ann asked, neutrally.
“...H-hey, Ryuji? Do… do you like
maids
…?”
Ryuji blinked. His cheeks turned red. Had Makoto heard about ‘Operation Maidwatch’? Quickly, he prepared a vehement denial. Until Ren’s voice in his ear stopped him. He froze in place, his eyes wide.
Makoto thought she had made a terrible mistake as Ryuji turned aside. During another particularly loud explosion of color, the blonde boy hissed into
his
radio.
“No! Not a freaking chance, bro!”
“Do you want my help or not?” Ren asked, placidly.
“... ...Y-yeah,
Mako-chan
. Maids. Love ‘em. Totally hot. I spend like, eighty percent of my disposable income at the local maid cafe.”
“..w-well, th-then, you should stop. Because… because I’m…” Makoto mumbled something.
“...sorry?”
Makoto mumbled again.
“Makoto, I didn’t catch that.” Ryuji said.
“I said you should stop, because I’m
maid
for you!” Makoto shouted, her fists clenched in irritation at the terrible pun. She stood frozen in fear at the sudden silence. Ryuji was probably going to turn around and leave.
“...I also like feet.” Ryuji said, just numbly relaying what Ren said. “Like, all kinds of feet.”
Makoto’s eyes widened in shock. What kind of boy had she fallen for, exactly?!
“-
giggle-
Tell… t-tell him… you think his feet are sexy, too-- ..-
snrrrk-”
“...Wait. Wait. Why are you laughing!? Why do I hear Ren there?!”
“Oh, shit--”
The radio beeped, signifying that it had been shut off.
Ryuji blinked. “...Makoto? Who were you talking to?”
“...Ann.” Makoto said, her face burning as she stared at the ground.
Ryuji blinked. Slowly, he took his earbud out, showing it to Makoto. “Ren.”
The two stared at each other.
Ryuji’s lip quivered.
Makoto’s eyebrow twitched.
They both burst into relieved laughter.
“Oh.. oh my God. I can’t believe it… I almost had an aneurysm when you said ‘hot stuff’...”
“And I almost died when I thought the boy I like has a maid fetish
and
a foot fetish… haha…” Makoto said, holding her stomach.
Gradually, they quieted.
Ryuji turned to face the fireworks again, looking up. He eyed Makoto sidelong after a moment. “...So… you
like
me?”
Makoto froze. She almost turned the radio back on. Instead, she drew herself up, turning to face Ryuji with a strangely gallant expression on her face. “Yes. Ryuji Sakamoto, I like you. As in, I
like
you like you.”
Ryuji blinked. After a long silence, he started laughing again.
Makoto immediately grew flustered, smacking his arm repeatedly. “You’re not supposed to laugh!”
“You… you looked like you were delivering a verdict in a courtroom, or reading someone their rights! How am I supposed to
not
laugh?!”
Makoto bit her lip, looking away, frustrated. “That… that’s the best I can do.”
Ryuji smiled. He pushed himself away from the battlements.
‘...Just be myself, and do what comes natural, right, Ren?’
“Then it’s perfect for me.”
Ryuji stepped toward her, drawing Makoto into a gentle embrace. His lips touched her cheek in a chaste kiss. “I like you, too. Wanna date?”
Makoto blinked. She tensed up, her flight-or-fight response briefly activating, before short-circuiting due to the impracticality of
either
response. She just remained frozen, eyes wide, face burning.
‘What do I do?! What should I do… ...what do I
want
to do…?’
>>>
Ren smirked, averting his eyes respectfully as he saw Makoto stand on her toes, leaning against Ryuji. She tilted her chin up…
Ren turned away completely, sitting down on the floor under the window. The leader of the Phantom Thieves turned to Ann as she joined him. “Welp. That’s my win, isn’t it?”
Ann snorted. “Seriously? ‘I also like feet’? That’s so unoriginal that I think we both know who should be declared the victor, here.”
“It got you to laugh, didn’t it? Besides. ‘I’m
maid
for you?’ Come
on
, Songbird.” Ren laughed.
“That almost got you, admit it.” Ann said, leaning against him.
Ren chuckled, turning to kiss her hair. “Mm. It did.”
“What saved you?”
“The thought of claiming a penalty from you.” Ren said, smiling.
“Oh? And what penalty does Wildcard, the wielder of bad ear and foot lines, demand?” Ann asked, smirking up at Ren.
“Just a kiss, Songbird.” Ren said. He smiled at her; the finale of the fireworks show lit the sky in brilliant reds and golds, briefly making the room they were in glow with the warmth of it. He gently swept a stray lock of hair behind her ear. His grey eyes caught the light, making them seem that much more alive, more enraptured with her. As if he was staring at the only woman in the world.
Ann shook her head slightly, cupping his cheek gently. She savored the electric chill that ran down her spine at his look, his proximity. “How…”
“Hm?” Ren mumbled, leaning in.
“How is it that months later, you can still make me feel like this is my first kiss?” Ann murmured.
“You tell me, Songbird. You tell me…”
>>>
Ren and Ann left the building they were in, hand in hand. They headed back toward the table where Haru, Yusuke, Futaba, and Mona waited. Mona and Yusuke had been aware of what Ren was up to; Haru and Futaba knew of Ann’s plan. When
both
Ren and Ann went missing, they quickly put together what was happening, much to their amusement.
Futaba grinned. “So? What happened?”
Ren and Ann filled them in.
“Haha! Classic.” Futaba said, snickering. She immediately started texting Shiho.
Haru shook her head. “Oh, my. It sounds like things worked out, though…”
The group looked up. Makoto and Ryuji were leaving the castle; the student council president held onto the bottle blonde’s elbow. She tensed up, sensing the smiles and knowing glances of their friends. She blushed - but didn’t let go. They rejoined the group, to loud and raucous congratulations from Ren, Futaba, and Ann.
Ryuji smiled, a little embarrassed for the attention. “...Heh. Gotta say. Life’s pretty good right now.”
“Remember, we still haven’t found the real culprit in the black mask.” Makoto said, sternly. But her expression softened; she squeezed Ryuji’s hand under the table. “...But, yes. Life is pretty good.”
Yusuke glanced at his phone. “Ah. The Okumura Foods press conference is going to start soon, is it not?”
Futaba nodded. “Right!” She started fishing her laptop out of her bag.
As they gathered around the computer to watch, Ren sighed contentedly. It was true. They had more work to do, but things were looking up. On the screen, Kunikazu Okumura stood up, starting the conference.
“Thank you all for taking time out of your busy schedules to gather here…”
|
Katsuki groans, the faint smell of lavender lingering in his nose. His eyelids still have invisible weights on them and his limbs feel heavy, but he ignores it. Pushing himself off the white medical sheet, he looks around to see Midnight- explains the lavender -along with Cementoss, Icyhot, and Birdbrain. He sighs, catching the attention of the female pro hero.
“Ah, Bakugou!” she grins, placing her hand on her hip and sticking her chest out in a seductive manner. “Good morning, you placed first in the Sports Festival. We’re getting ready for the award ceremony.”
“I didn’t fucking win.” Katsuki responds instantaneously, moving himself off the edge of the bed and on his feet. He watches Midnight's face twist into awkwardness, for whatever reason that may be.
“Yes you did.” She leans on one leg with feign confidence. “Todoroki flew out of bounds and was no longer able to battle, thus making you the winner and first place contestant of this years sports festival.”
“Its not a win if he only used half his strength.” He argues, mind already set on getting the second place award.
It wasn’t a true win if that IcyHot bastard only used half his strength.
He watches the R-rated hero sigh in annoyance. “Bakugou, you won. Accept that.”
“No.”
“Stop making this way harder than it has to be.”
“I didn’t win.”
Katsuki watches her shake her head and tear her sleeve open, lavender consuming his senses yet again. This fucking witch.
“Fuck… you…”
Sleep pulls at his eyelids and he drifts off.
Fireworks crack and boom above the stadium, bursts of color joining the blue sky.
“The first year students have finished all of the events for the Yuuei Sports Festival,” Kayama announces, standing next to a disturbed patch of dirt while posing for the unsurprisingly large amounts of photographers and news reporters. “Now it's time to relax and enjoy the awards ceremony!”
Victory music plays and the screens flash with
Award Ceremony
and a trophy cup. A huge amount of smoke puffs into existence behind Kayama, mixing with confetti. Inside said puff of smoke is the podium with Tokoyami, Todoroki, and Bakugou in their respective places.
However Bakugou is thrashing, screaming into the muzzle and trying to blow out of the restatements.
“He’s acting like a wild animal.” Tokoyami comments, disturbed.
Despite how accurate that comment may be, it irritates Shouta.
Something’s off.
“Tenya Iida actually shares the third place award with Tokoyami-kun, but unfortunately he had to leave for family reasons. Gotta love those familial bonds.” She finishes, putting her index finger against her lip and winking.
Tokoyami mumbles something about the media but Shouta is dead focused on Bakugou.
He isn’t lashing out of anger.
Its fear, and there’s a difference. His pupils are dilated and his eyes are darting across the stands, he’s sweating and his shoulders tremble, and his feet cant stay still for long.
“Now lets break out the hardware! Of course, there's only one person worthy of distributing the awards!”
Boisterous laughs fill the cheering stadium but Shouta’s too busy making his way over in person to care.
It seems kind of illogical to go
this
overboard with a
teenager.
By the time he gets there, Todoroki is receiving his medal and talking about something too All Might, who doesn’t seem like he’s really listening. Tokoyami is inspecting his reward and Bakugou’s just standing there, eyes on the floor.
“Midnight.”
Kayama turns around, heels crunching against the grass and handcuffs clinking, to see a
very
pissed of Shouta Aizawa. Her face falters. “Eraserhead, you shouldn’t be here.” She manages to force out, eyeing Yagi nervously.
“And Bakugou shouldn’t be tied up like that, especially not after the Sludge Villain attack that-” He turns to spit towards the mumber one hero “-
All Might
was involved in, but he is.”
“Now now Shouta, he wasn’t accepting the reward.” She blinks owlishy. “We had to.”
“But Ojirou was allowed to drop out?”
“Huh?”
Shouta scoffs, marching right up into Kayama’s face. “You let two students drop out because they felt like they didn’t deserve their place, yet you didnt let Bakugou drop out for the same reason?”
“W-well, its just that he’s the first place winner and-”
“And Yuuei needs to withstand their position?”
“Thats not what I’m saying-”
“Its what you’re implying.” He raises his voice over hers when she tries to argue back. “Now, where is the hell is the key?”
“Eraserhead, you’re disrupting the ceremony.” Kayama ignores him, voice more demanding then before. Her tone was like a mother’s don’t-argue-with-me tone,
Obviously, Shouta argues with her. “All of the winners are from my homeroom and teachers are allowed, both legally and morally, to remove students are from the festival.
Now give me the fucking key.”
“I’m afraid Aizawa is correct.” A new, falsely cheery voice joins. Kayama squeaks and Shouta huffs, turning to watch Nezu walk towards them. “Additionally, the flyers distributed to the students regarding the Sports Festival address that the contestant is allowed to resign at any given point. Therefore, Bakugou should not be on that pedestal.”
The R rated hero stares incredulously at her higher up before sighing. She reaches in her pocket and hands Shouta a key. His eye twitches and with a scowl, he accepts it and trots up to Bakugou.
The next time Katsuki wakes up, he tries to rub the sleep from his eyes.
And he can’t.
Because his arms wont fucking move and there’s something weighing them down, there’s something over his damn face and
oh god he’s going to die. The goddamn sludge villains back and he’s going to suffocate and die and and and-
Why are they moving up, why is it smoking- did he fucking explode more things? What the hell is going on?!
Loud pops ring in his ears but all he can hear is him screaming and explosions and and and-
Why arent the dumbass heroes doing anything?
He thrashes and yells hoping
someone
will just do
something-
.
..
…
..
.
He’s going to die.
He’s going to fucking die and he’ll never graduate Yuuei and he’ll never be a hero and he wont surpass All Might and-
“Bakugou.”
His eyes snap up to find a black blob infront of him.
‘zawa sensei..?
He wonders to himself.
“Katsuki, I’m going to touch you, is that okay?”
Katsuki blinks.
Why the hell is he asking? Can’t he just do something?!
Aizawa snaps his fingers infront of his face. “Focus on me.”
The younger flinches, then nods, eyes trained on the underground hero. The other reaches around Katsuki’s head, undoing the buckles and pulling the muzzle of his face.
Shouta unbuckles the muzzle and peels it off Bakugou’s face, becoming even more pissed at the red line going from ear to ear. His breathing is shallow and he doesn’t seem to notice it’s off.
Shouta reaches for the whole ass metal block next, unlocking it and pulling it off his hands, followed by the chunky metal arm restraint.
He watches Bakugou move his arm out, bending it as if it confirm it’s free, before setting off a bunch of tiny explosions in both palms.
Shouta glares at Kayama, making his way to the back of the pillar Bakugou’s wrapped around. He pulls all
four
of the giant ass pins out before returning to the front and watching Bakugou undo the leather straps, letting them fall over his boots and stepping over them.
Bakugou glares at Todoroki, walking down the podium and turning to All Might (who had been silent this entire time), opening his mouth to say something then deciding against it. He did, however, say a very aggressive “Fuck you” to Kayama before walking out of the stadium, Shouta at his heels.
“Bakugou.”
He didn’t get a response.
“Bakugou, are you alright?”
“...I’m fucking fine.”
“You didn’t look fine to me.” He deadpans.
Bakugou growls, setting an explosion off.
“If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine, but bring it up to a counselor or a trusted adult.”
“Yeah yeah, sure.” Came the halfhearted mumble.
Bakugou disappeared into the changing room, leaving both of them alone to their thoughts.
Shouta had a bone to pick with just about everyone. |
It was a long road to White Harbour, and yet somehow the miles flew by.
Sansa knew she was perceiving it strangely, so desperate to drag out being in the North longer, that time or perhaps the Gods mocked her and made it all seem to go by so quickly, because it felt as though she'd blinked, and she was in White Harbour.
Another blink and the Manderlys were escorting them onto a ship, deferential to Jon, as Lord Manderly had been one of the first to call Jon King, Sansa offered them an extra thanks, as they ensured the boat was stocked with provisions, and added 10 Manderly guards to their numbers, even reassured them a second boat would sail behind, hiding back, to ensure the safe journey.
It made Sansa smile, to see Jon treated as he ought to be, as she'd fought him to be; a King.
The ship was outfitted well, and then it felt like she'd barely glanced around it before the anchor was pulled up, they pushed away from land and were out on the open seas, suddenly surrounded by blue in every direction.
Time was definitely mocking her.
Where had the hours gone? The road had flown under the hooves of their horses, the nights in the tents on the side of the Kings Road dashed past, as though she settled down for sleep and it was the next night already. Where had her time with Jon gone? It felt as though they'd barely spoken. How had the hours disappeared?
Definitely mocking.
Still, she knew there was one benefit, the quicker they went South, the quicker they could return home, to the North.
The North was her home, even more so now her family were back.
'There will always be a Stark in Winterfell' A creed of their house, and even with she and Jon going it remained true. Their Father was in charge, Lord Stark of Winterfell once more, slipping back into the role with ease, and yet he respected Jon, acknowledging him as King, it was something Sansa both admired and felt slightly exasperated at her Father for, his respect for not being the King was a great indication of his honour, but his lack of ambition his downfall.
Sansa knew in the time since she'd last seen him her ambition had grown, her desire for an independent North growing in her like a weed one could not stamp out. She didn't care if it took war, scheming, murder, the North would be independent.
They would not bend, not ever again.
Still, they had left Winterfell in good hands. Robb had busied himself with overseeing the defences, she had left the glass gardens project with her Mother, and Father was overseeing the shoring up of supplies. She knew they'd return to a well ran Winterfell, with the North in coordination.
It was nice not to have to worry about what they'd come back to, only to worry about what they were facing.
But she reassured herself as the ship pushed away from land, onto the open seas, Jon offering her a smile before he turned to his men to see about getting their provisions unpacked, the quicker the trip went, the quicker they'd be home.
Home.
Once she'd thought that to be the South, what an idiot she'd been. The North was her home, Jon was her home, and that wouldn't change, no matter what happened in the South.
She was thankful she was not seasick.
For miles and miles it was just glittering ocean, the endless stretch of sea in every direction. Once or twice, they passed land in the far distance, the Sister Islands as Sansa noted or a chunk of the Vale, otherwise it was just the blue sea, their companion for miles and miles.
Jon fared the same as her, both of them not bothered by the sway of the waves. Northerners were a hardy people after all, it took more than a little rocking to unseat them.
Which was a good thing, as the journey wasn't just to take a pleasant boat ride, it wasn't even to just get to Dragonstone, from A to B, no, it was to talk strategy.
And for Sansa it was wonderful.
For the past weeks Sansa had been worrying constantly about feeling disconnected from Jon, about him not needing her now the other Starks had returned, about pushing her aside for a Queen to take her place. She knew it was stupid and even unfair to Jon, but those had been the thoughts creeping in her mind, like vines rapping around her sensible thoughts and turning them cold.
But now? Just the two of them? Together again? It was perfect.
Of course Sansa had missed her family, and was overjoyed to have them back, had even lingered in pulling them each close for a hug before leaving, particularly squeezing her Father so tightly he'd near groaned, she was delighted to be with them again.
But it took some getting used to.
For so long it had just been her and Jon, her and Jon alone, for weeks it had been just the two of them, heads bent in discussion, her arm tucked through his, Ghost at her feet as they sat in front of the fire. Then it had all changed.
Now things felt more normal, and Sansa hated herself for feeling that way, the guilt near choking her up, though she tried to remind herself she was thankful for her family to be home, she was just adjusting to it.
But the boat ride felt like a reprieve, Jon next to her at the table, Ghost at her feet. Lady had remained in Winterfell. The wolves had returned to them the same size as they'd been when they'd perished, and so next to Ghost, Lady was practically miniature, and so she'd remained behind, actually attached to Grey Winds hip, quite happy not to have to go on a long journey with all that fuss.
She had even accepted Sansa's crushing hug and far too many kisses as they'd left with a good grace before trotting away for a good nap, quite pleased to just relax.
Sansa sometimes wished she felt the same.
Relaxation wasn't an option for her, hasn't been for years and who knew when it would be again? For years and, for years to come most likely she'd been in a state of constant vigilance, only moments with Jon and now around her family saw her ease a touch, but never fully.
Perhaps when the Others were defeated, when Cersei Lannister's head was on a pike and the North remained independent, she'd relax so much she'd fall asleep.
Perhaps.
For now there was planning to do, sleep could come later.
It was on the 3rd morning, when they'd slept, dressed, and Sansa had dismissed her handmaid, happy to leave her long red locks down, the sea air untangling any style anyway, did they meet in the captain's cabin, the man happy to hand it over as he sailed, and they used the large table for strategizing.
Most of what would be Jon's (ours, he insisted) small council remained in Winterfell, going South to treat with the Dragon Queen was important but preparing the North for war more so, and so most had stayed behind to support their family to do that, here they had limited numbers, also as a contingent in case the Dragon Queen roasted them all, better to keep the talent in the North for the wars to come.
Not that any of them said that, but they all thought it.
And so, she and Jon stood at the head of the table, heads bent slightly together, not even realising they were doing so.
Brienne stood a pace or two behind her, her ever silent guard, Pod remained in Winterfell. Jon insisted he needed no guard, Longclaw at his hip and non a better swordsman than him, but still two Winterfell guards stood either side of him, Tormund refusing to go South, saying Winterfell was already too warm for his blood. Ghost stood between them both.
Davos Seaworth Jon's hand, a good man, true and fair, stood opposite them, his council always welcomed.
That made up their party, small, select, surrounded by guards of course, but they needed no more. They came with a request and would return home with a yes or no answer, Sansa didn't see why they'd need to stay longer than a week; or at least she hoped they wouldn't.
But then what were hopes, but to be ready for disappointment.
"Shall we start?" Davos spoke, gruffly, and Sansa nodded, Jon too, they would arrive at Dragonstone within the week, it was important to be prepared.
"Yes" Sansa began and Jon nodded, that was the dynamic they had, Jon would never call her out in public, as she wouldn't him, and they had their own way of communicating, in giving way to the other, in ensuring their leadership ran smoothly.
"You're the leader Jon" Sansa had said one evening, after Jon had apologised for cutting something she'd been saying off, not that she'd minded, Jon was never rude, passionate but never rude. "You don't have to take my lead"
"We're the leaders" He insisted back, "I'm here because of you more than anyone"
"You're the King" She said, and every hint of her tone was infused with believing her words, as she did, more than she believed anything.
For a while she had been done with the Gods, Jon had been what she believed in.
"Aye" He said, "And you're as close to we have as a Queen, and so you'll be treated like one"
She'd tried to ignore the awful longing to be the Queen, as once had been her greatest ambition, now it was only possible one or two ways, and she crushed the way that seemed more possible to here, for them…
They had their own way of ruling, of nodding, giving way, one picking up a subject from the other, and here was the same. Jon gave way to her here, and she warmed, the trust they had for one another was more than any other.
"We need to ensure Jon is presented properly" She began, hating the courtesies of the South, for she'd hidden behind them for so long, but she saw and knew their value, more than anyone.
"Nothing big" Jon said with an expression of distaste, "I'm a Northern King not some Southerner"
Sansa nodded at that, "Of course, just one of the guards should stop, announce your titles, your position" She said with a smile, knowing Jon wouldn't accept anything more.
"Then I'll present you?" Jon asked, and Sansa near laughed, clueless here, hence why he'd let her take the lead, this wasn't important to Jon, she wished it didn't have to be to her.
"No, the guard will then present me" Sansa said, "And then Ser Davos" She said with a nod, "And then we'll begin"
"She'll present herself first" Davos said, he seemed more Northerner than Southerner, never concerned with the fripperies either, he was in good accord with them in that regard, but he like Sansa knew how important it was to do such things in the South.
"Yes" Sansa said, "As is the way"
"And from self-importance" Davos scoffed, and Sansa nodded in agreement.
"Let's give her a fair go" Jon said, but he too looked doubtful, they all remembered the letter she'd sent them initially, all squawking about 'her rightful Throne' and the North being part of 'her Kingdom', how she had 'summoned them'. The Northerners had all sneered at her presumption, they wouldn't bend, not again.
Not ever.
"Okay so that's the entrance" Sansa said, moving things along, shooting Jon an annoyed glance, she knew he was right, but she didn't trust the Dragon Queen, and didn't want Jon to trust her either, she was the enemy.
The Starks were always too trusting, too honourable, in a way she loved them for it, but also despised it. It was what had got them killed the first time, their home lost, gone, the pack scattered. Even now she could see it in them, hints of it in Jon, but not her.
Honour was important to the Northern culture, and she respected it, but she had no issue casting it aside, when need be, she knew Jon thought so to, but struggled with the morals of it. She'd do it or them if she could, she'd never let honour kill her family again.
"And then we lay out why we've come" Jon said, and Sansa nodded, they all wanted to get to the point here, no unnecessary waiting, then they could come home, "And go from there"
"Right" Davos said, "What if she threatens to kill us?"
"She will" Sansa said, "But she won't do it"
"Why not?" Davos shot back.
"She's trying to win the land, not murder its rulers" Sansa said with a shake of her head.
"What about her Father? What if she's like him? I don't like it" Jon flinched at Davos' words then, his Grandfather. It was then she took his hand in hers, squeezed it tightly, brushing her fingers over his knuckles.
"She can't threaten us like that" Sansa said, "We have the might of the North, and she can't invade, unless she plans to kill us all"
"We have to focus" Jon interjected, face stoic now, "We have higher priorities"
"You could kill her"
They all jumped then, taken back by a voice emerging from the far end of the table, Sansa clutched a hand to her chest in surprise, Jon, Brienne, and Davos had gone for their swords, and Jon had even pushed her back, behind him.
And yet it was no threat, only there stood Arya, needle at her hip, head cocked, looking almost innocent, like she had as a child (as she still was), but also deadly, knowing what she'd learned, and her words, so casual and yet so full of murderous intent.
"Arya" Sansa said in a gasp, realising she sounded like the shrill older sister she turned to Jon who had sheathed his sword now and was almost laughing, Arya with a cheeky grin too.
"Arya underfoot" He said under his breath with a shake of his head, but as Sansa glared at him he laughed again, "What are we going to do with you?"
"You're not supposed to be here" He could only laugh as Sansa near hissed at her little sister, almost like they were 12 and 10 again, sisters as rivals. He knew he should step in, back Sansa up, but he could only smile.
'We never should have left Winterfell…' How true that had been.
"Jon thinks its funny" Arya said cheekily, changed she may be, but she still had that cheeky smile, though he smiled, Sansa only rolled her eyes.
"I don't know why I bother" Sansa said, but he could tell she was not truly angry.
They were like that, the two of them, they could see to the true emotions they each held, how they actually felt, what they were actually feeling. They couldn't lie to one another in that regard, too clued into the true emotions they each held.
It had its uses, rarely its issues.
"Why are you here?" Jon asked, he'd pulled Sansa and Arya inside, leaving Davos to talk to Brienne and the other gathered soldiers, though Davos looked ready to laugh as well, he kept his composure, somehow. Jon didn't bother asking how she'd got on board; it wasn't hard to see how easily she could have slipped below deck.
"I thought you'd need the backup" Arya said with a shrug, as though it were obvious, to her it was.
"We have guards" Sansa said, exasperated.
"You need better ones" Arya said in response.
"Our men are good" Jon insisted, they were, he'd made sure of it.
"Sure" Arya shrugged again, unbothered, "But they aren't like me"
"And what does that mean?" Sansa asked, eyebrow raised.
"I'm not going to reveal myself to the Dragon Queen, I'll stay in the shadows on Dragonstone, in case there's a problem" Arya said with a little nod.
Jon sighed; it made sense in some ways, and he knew could be a diplomatic disaster if she got caught. Jon knew she was quick, little Arya underfoot, fast, and deadly, but quick enough?
"Hmm" Sansa said then, and he looked at her a touch surprised, Sansa saw the merit in this? He'd expected her to protest, like he was near to doing.
"Only if you stay out of view" Sansa insisted, "And if there's trouble you run back North, the Manderlys sent a second ship to stay docked in case of problems, so you run to them and send word home"
"No" Arya shook her head then, "I'll stop any trouble"
"No" Sansa fired back immediately, "That's not how we do things"
"Not how you do things" Arya insisted, and Jon knew it was time to step in.
"Not how we do things, Sansa's right" Jon said, and he saw Arya deflate a little, she rarely listened to Sansa, but she'd listen to Jon, "Better that you run and alert our men" He nodded, because they were their men, Stark men … well Sansa and Arya's, were they his?
He tried to shrug that aside, there could not be a worse time for self-doubt, right now he had to focus, any identity crisis could wait.
"But-"Arya began and Jon cut her off, better to do that with Arya, stubborn as she was, then let her run away with a bad idea.
"You can be our canary in the coal mine" He said with a nod, it was a good idea, "If there's one hint of the Dragon Queen trying to keep us on Dragonstone or sending anything North you can run back and call the alarm"
"Yes" Sansa said with a nod, catching on, "You can do what we can't, leave swiftly and call to action if needed"
Arya glared at them a touch, and then relaxed, nodded, there, fight avoided, she could see the merit in their idea.
"I don't want her to hurt you" Her sincerity made Jon smile, and he could see Sansa do the same, even reach out and take her sisters hand. "Either of you"
"We all have our part to play" Sansa said, wise beyond her years, "Ours is diplomacy, we will be fine"
"Promise?" She asked, and she seemed so like his little sister then, young, and scrappy, a child, he near wanted to march her home. Part of him felt that protective streak, as he did over Sansa, to send them both packing, back home to where they'd be safe, but he knew he couldn't.
Sansa was a leader next to him in her own right, she'd earned and fought for her place here.
And Arya could be their secret weapon, and though not quite grown yet she had seen far more than men three times her age.
He had to keep them safe, it was his job, but not at detriment to their freedom or them helping him, he knew that, even as his protective instincts screamed the opposite.
'The lone wolf dies –
But the pack survives'
"I can't promise that Arya" He raised an eyebrow at Sansa's honesty and felt something like a sad pang in his heart, many had stolen promises from her, he hated now she couldn't make them.
One day she would, he'd make sure one day she felt safe enough to make promises she believed she could keep.
He made a promise, had from the second they'd reunited;
Protect Sansa.
Maybe more than a promise, a vow.
One he would never willingly break.
"But I can promise this is the right way" Sansa said with a nod, glanced at Jon who nodded too.
"We need her" Jon admitted, they did, What fought ice? "So we have to play diplomacy, it may not work but we have to try"
"We have to try" Sansa repeated, her vow, "It is to protect the North"
"I want to protect the North" Arya insisted, and he saw Sansa squeeze her hand, and then hold her other out for him, he took it without hesitation.
"You will" He said with a nod, "You're our backup"
"Our safety" Sansa said with a smile, and a nod, she was far better at this than him, he was a fighter more than a diplomat, a sword would always be more comfortable in his hand than a glass of wine during negotiations, but he knew he had to do it, had to be good at it.
'We all like what we're good at'
'I don't'
Did he?
"Trust me" Jon said, "Both of you" He looked at Arya, and then turned his gaze to Sansa, "We need her help, but we do this our way, we won't beg or scrape, we won't let her hold us hostage"
"We are Starks" Arya piped up then, and her complete belief that he was included in that made him feel warm, he had a family, regardless of last name.
"The lone wolf dies" Sansa began.
"But the pack survives" Arya finished, and then they shared a smile, sisters.
"And winter is coming" Jon said, and they all nodded, it was, and it was theirs to fight. |
"Why are they back?" Tommy groaned.
"We didn't scare them good enough," Tubbo concluded. "I really thought my ceiling-walking would scare them off."
"Maybe you were too scary," Ranboo suggested. "People like too-scary things."
"That's gotta be it," Tubbo said with a nod. "Do I have to hurt them to make them leave?"
"Probably. Tubbo, kick their ankles."
"On it, boss man!"
Ranboo caught Tubbo by the waist and hoisted him up. "Don't kick their ankles."
Tubbo seemed to measure the effort of a struggle before ultimately deciding it wasn't worth it. He kicked Ranboo's ankle, to make a point, but didn't protest otherwise.
"Do you think the ghosts like us better alone?" asked Sapnap. "We've already got enough B-roll, but if you need an excuse to go in alone..."
Dream scoffed. "Oh, no. This time, we're all going in together, and we do not split up."
"Dream, I swear, if I have to encounter that ceiling-crawler," George threatened, "I am going to trip you two and run ahead."
"Why both of us?" Sapnap asked, sounding offended. "Gogy, do you not love me anymore?!"
"Cause there's the guy with the suit!" George protested. "I'd rather take my chances with a farmer than a ceiling-crawler and someone taller than a doorway."
"I could take the guy in the suit," Sapnap boasted. "Single-handed. While also fighting the ceiling-crawler."
Dream looked up again, nose twitching at the sky. "Did it just get darker?"
Sapnap looked up and made an "I dunno" sound. "Wasn't it already overcast?"
"Well, yeah, but... whatever. You two got the cameras ready?"
George held the box up, looking through one side. "Yep."
"Those are cameras?!" Tubbo asked, looking amazed. "Those are recording cameras?"
"No way," Ranboo dismissed. "They're too small."
"It's been a while, though, so maybe..." Tommy asked, staring in awe at the boxes.
Dream pulled down his mask. "Let's do this."
The two began the trek into the house.
"Do we scare them again?" Ranboo asked. "Or do we do nothing and hope they give up?"
"I wanna get the gravestones this time," Sapnap said, "since we left early before. RB was buried around the left of the house, and Schlatt between the fence and the house?"
"Yeah," George agreed. "Do you think that kid in the field has a grave?"
"If it hasn't already been found, then it probably doesn't exist," Dream dismissed. "We can check the perimeter, but I think we'd have to really dig to find any evidence of them. If there is any."
"Let's get the graves first," Sapnap said. "We can get B-roll and extra audio."
"What the fuck is a bee role," Tommy deadpanned.
"Like a queen and a worker?" Tubbo guessed.
"Hey, guys...?"
"Yeah, Sap?"
"Do you..." Sapnap faltered and hummed. "What makes a ghost?"
George stepped over a tree root. "A dead person."
"Well, yeah, but--I mean..." He paused. "What do all ghosts have in common? Like--they can't all be murder victims. They can't all of been disgraced in some way. Age doesn't matter, neither does religion or ethnicity. So. what makes a ghost a ghost? Or a demon? Or... y'know. Like when they die, I mean."
Dream faltered. "That's a good question... Maybe it's just something that happens? Like, randomly? Or are certain people, like, predestined to become ghosts, do you think?"
"Maybe... Hm." George stopped himself. "I dunno. I was going to say it's got to do with how many people remember you, but that wouldn't make sense. Maybe it's gotta do with where you die?"
"If I die here, I'll ask the field kid what's their deal and then report back to you," Sapnap reassured.
"Aw, thank you, Snapnap."
"Dream, I swear--"
"What makes us ghosts?" Tommy murmured, brows furrowed.
"What?" Tubbo asked.
"Why did we become ghosts?" Tommy asked. "What's the connection between us and every other ghost out there?"
The three were silent.
"It must do with how we died," Ranboo guessed. "Right?"
"I lit a firework, which blew up," Tubbo said. "Ranboo died because he took some drugs and walked off the roof. Tommy, how'd you die?"
Tommy felt his throat go dry, flooding with cold air as he recalled laying in the snow.
He shivered involuntarily, almost feeling the numbness that came with the hypothermia.
His arms crossed over his ribcage, clutching his elbows.
He curled over himself, gaze falling to the floor.
"I--" Tommy began, only to halt. "Um."
"You don't have to say anything, big man," Tubbo reassured, popping up in his field of vision. "Look, they found Ranboo's grave!"
Tommy looked up with a shudder.
"Did it just get colder?" Dream asked, knelt on the ground a bit away.
"Died 1975," read out George. "So he was, what, 17?"
"Younger than Schlatt," Sapnap said. "Schlatt died... I think mid or late-summer? And his birthday was in December. Beloved died early summer, and his birthday's in... I think that says August...? No--I can't read it."
"It's all grimy," Dream complained. "We should touch it up before we leave. Respect, y'know" He got to his feet with a grunt. "Let's go find Schlatt's."
Tommy gave a full-body shudder, feeling returning to his fingers.
They'd found and inspected Tubbo's grave before deciding to go back into the house and go into the attic.
"I don't wanna go up there," Dream said, mask on and boxes pointed at him.
"You've said that," George agreed as Sapnap opened the door. "Which is why we're working our way up to it."
"Gogy, spirit box, please."
George held up the small box after fishing out the box. "You all remember this, right? If you're still here? Don't knock it off this time. I'm George, that's Sapnap. You've already met Dream."
"Beloved was the one that made this place violent, right?" Sapnap asked as George set down the box.
Tubbo strolled up to them and took a seat between the couch and the table. "Turn it on, big man. I'm ready."
Tommy moved to the hallway leading to the backdoor. "I'm not. Tubbo, you do all the talking for us."
Ranboo stayed near the door, shaking his head at the two.
"Should we do the EMF reader?" Dream asked.
"The what?" Sapnap asked. "Oh, yeah. Gogy?"
"I'm not your workhorse," George said, but still took it out. He took out a white box that lit up, facing it towards the kitchen. He turned to the other two, only to pause. He angled it downwards, posture going stiff as the box began beeping.
All eyes turned to Tubbo.
"Does that thing allow you to see me?" he asked, confused.
"Hi," George began. "You are very close to us."
"Yeah--"
"Could you maybe not be so close to us?"
Tubbo scoffed, but got up and took a seat on the couch a few feet away.
"Thank you," George said.
"Is that Beloved?" Dream asked, eyes glued to where Tubbo had been.
"Doubt it." Sapnap gestured to the rest of the room. "Scan the rest of the room."
George scanned the rest of the room, pausing when he angled it at Tubbo. He jabbed it at Dream, who gave him a shove. He went to scan past the front door--
"Oh. fuck," he whispered.
"Should we get the heat signature thing?" Sapnap whispered.
"I'd rather not know if that's the one that's taller than the doorway," Dream decided. "Ignorance is bliss."
George did a quick sweep of the rest of the room, clearly not expecting to find something.
He stopped, pointed towards Tommy.
"What the fuck," said Dream.
George whipped both the white, blinking box and the black box towards Tubbo, the white one beeping. He turned it to Ranboo, still beeping. He turned it back to Tommy, still beeping.
"Is that the field kid?" Sapnap whispered.
"One of them is," George whispered back. "Do we spirit box it, or...?"
"I don't know!" Dream whisper-shouted back. "We've never been cornered by ghosts before!"
"Do you think they know we can hear them?" Tubbo asked.
"Knock the spirit box off the table," Tommy said.
"They might take that as you not wanting it to be turned on," Ranboo interrupted before Tubbo could do so. "Just move it closer to them."
The three lapsed into silence as their spirit box was slid closer to them.
George reached down and turned it on, wincing at the loud burst of sound. "Hello?"
"Hello!" Tubbo said loudly, voice echoing from the box.
"Are you the one on the couch?" George asked, pointing the white box over to him.
"Yeah."
"Are you Beloved?"
"No. But he's here."
Ranboo gestured frantically at Tubbo to make him stop.
"Is he?" Sapnap flicked his gaze between Tommy and Ranboo. "Is he the one at the door, or the hallway?"
"Door," Tubbo answered. "Come say hi!" he instructed Ranboo, only to get furious headshakes.
Dream nearly jolted. "No!" he suddenly shouted. "No--no. We don't--we don't need to say hi to RB. Are you the field kid?"
"You've gotta be more specific, big man," Tubbo complained, furrowing his brows when only around half his words got picked up.
"Um--the one from yesterday," Dream answered. "With the farming tool. Or is he in the hallway?"
"He's in the hallway," Tubbo answered, grinning at Tommy. "I'm sure he'd love to say hello."
"Don't you fucking dare," Tommy hissed at him.
"You don't need to," Sapnap assured the hall entryway. "You--You can just stay over there. That's actually preferable. So, you're Schlatt?" he added to Tubbo.
Tubbo nodded. "Mhm. Yes," he repeated when the spirit box didn't pick up his first agreement.
"Were you the one that crawled out of the attic?" Dream asked.
Tubbo chirped a yes, which made Dream's posture stiffen.
"Can you turn that thing off now?!" Tommy asked. "My hearing's going all buzzy!"
"Field kid doesn't like the box," Tubbo said. He repeated it slower when only some of his words were picked up
George asked if that meant they should turn it off, and did just that when Tubbo responded with an affirmative.
Tommy rubbed his ears.
"Should we do the ouija board?" George asked.
Sapnap groaned. "But I hate the ouija board. It's too easy to fake and there's so many stupid movies about it."
"We don't have to do it," George shot back. "It was just a suggestion."
"I think we should head to the attic," Sapnap said. "Maybe we'll find a dead body."
"We'd smell it," Dream dismissed.
"Unless it's so rotted that the smell's gone," George added, packing the white box and the spirit box back into his pack. "Come on. Let's open all the doors, too, all the way. For the light from the windows."
They'd set up a box near the stairs to the attic, facing it towards the stairs. He still didn't know what the boxes were for, so Tommy shrugged and followed them up.
"Should we reveal ourselves to them?" Tubbo asked.
Two sets of eyes turned to him, both wide with disbelief.
"What?!" Tubbo asked. "They've technically already seen us. It would make communication easier. Plus, I wanna see how they react. Maybe they'll go running."
"That is the worst idea you've ever had, Tubso," Tommy said.
"I think he's had worse," Ranboo protested.
"I didn't know water hurt you!" Tubbo immediately defended, throwing his arms up. "And I said I was sorry!"
"I'm gonna scare them again," Tubbo decided.
"Watch out for the, uh, camera," Ranboo warned. "And we'll tell you if they start anything."
"Got it, boss man."
Mere seconds later, as the living were pulling out the spirit box again, the stairs creaked.
They all went quiet as Tubbo creaked up the stairs, taking painstakingly slow steps up.
Sapnap reached over and angled the second box--set up to look at the board they had been using to try and communicate with them--towards the attic entrance.
The creaking stopped.
"Is that RB?" Dream whispered, voice barely audible even in the silence.
"Get the salt," Sapnap urged, prompting George to scramble for his pack.
George yanked a packet of salt out from his bag, quickly scattering it in a third of a circle behind him. He handed it to Dream, who did another third (also behind him, joining it up with the first part), and then to Sapnap, who completed the circle with him inside.
"Is it safe to burn something up here?" Sapnap asked.
Dream shook his head. "Not until we can open the window."
The house went dead silent.
The first step of the ladder creaked.
Dream hissed a quiet curse and reached for Sapnap and George.
Ranboo huffed a laugh. "Tubbo, are you almost done?"
The second step creaked.
Eyes flicked to the trail of salt, searching for imperfections.
Another step.
Knuckles turned white.
No one made a sound.
Tubbo stepped back down.
Footsteps left the attic ladder.
A door--the one closest to the stairs?--clicked shut.
Tubbo appeared from the floor, eyes searching for the living. He laughed at the sight of them, prompting the other two to join in.
"You should have seen their faces!" Ranboo managed out. "That was sick!"
"They're so fuckin' milky, look at 'em!" Tommy cackled.
Tubbo pulled himself all the way through the floor. "I never thought ragging on the living could be this fun! Why didn't we do this with everyone else?"
"Cause no one else believed in us!?" Ranboo guessed, still catching his breath. "If we knock over a pile of books with someone else, they'd just think it's a weird occurrence, but we can make some creaking noises and they do that!"
Tubbo wiped away a fake tear. "Oh, this is beautiful. What are they doing now? Leaving?"
The living grabbed their spirit box and board, quickly packing it up.
"If they go into the room you closed the door to, I'm gonna make it so fucking cold," Tommy decided, already grinning evilly at the thought.
"Wait!" Ranboo interrupted. "I can do the same thing I did when just Dream was here, but, like--I'll wave at them! Then someone can shut the door again!"
Tubbo nodded. "I wish these doors had locks. Tommy, why aren't there any locks?"
Tommy crossed his arms. "I don't know! Maybe back in 18-whatever, people didn't need locked doors!"
"This house was built in the 1800s?" Ranboo asked.
Tommy nodded, glancing around. "Well, yeah! Been in my family for generations. Don't know why you're shocked," he added at their astounded expressions. "There are still houses here from the Tutor Times. Heard the green bitch talkin' about old buildings when he first got here, before I told you two about them."
"Tutor?" Ranboo repeated. "Like... for school?"
Tommy shrugged. "Maybe they were stupid."
"I think you mean Tudor," Tubbo corrected.
"I am never wrong, Tubbo," Tommy dismissed. "Big men are never wrong."
Sapnap picked up the box after the three finished their whispered deliberation. He reached into his pocket and pulled out three t-shaped pieces of metal, handing one to each of them.
"Let's go," Dream murmured, sounding reluctant.
The three left down the ladder, halting at the bottom to collect the box they'd set up.
They advanced towards the room, Tommy darting past them in anticipation. He waited excitedly for them to open the door and step in.
George held out the white box from before, angling it into the room. It didn't beep. He put it back into his pack.
They stepped in.
Tommy nearly jumped in after him, feeling his own body temperature lower.
"Oh, shit," Sapnap murmured.
George shivered, curling into himself from the sudden temperature drop.
Dream yanked off his hoodie and handed it over, revealing his gloves were actually a black, long-sleeved shirt.
George pulled off his pack and handed it and the box to Dream, gratefully putting the sweater on. He took the pack back as Sapnap turned back to the doorway.
Ranboo waved, slowly, Tubbo preparing to close the door.
Dream and George followed Sapnap's gaze, halting in the transfer of the box back to George.
Tubbo began creaking the door closed.
Dream rushed forward.
Tubbo shut the door as quick as possible.
Dream yanked it open and angled the box upwards, probably intent on getting Ranboo's face--
Ranboo was already incorporeal again, staring (probably wide-eyed) at Dream.
Dream glared at where Ranboo was, pulling open the door and frantically gesturing his friends out.
("I don't want to sleep here," George said, voice shaky, once they were safely out of the house. "I know that we sleep in places with this much activity, but I just--I..."
"You don't have to," Dream reassured. "You can stay home. We can just keep ourselves up with energy drinks and coffee. Or, I can. If you don't want to go, Sap."
"No!" George protested. "No, I don't--I'd rather not wait until morning to know if you two are safe. I'm not getting any sleep regardless, so..."
"You don't have to, George," Sapnap reassured. "We can send you texts every half an hour, if--"
George shook his head. "I'm not leaving you alone. I don't want to do it, but I can't stay home while you two are here.")
("WHY ARE THEY COMING BACK!?" Ranboo screeched.
"I DON'T KNOW!" Tubbo shouted back as the other three left the property.
"WHAT DO WE HAVE TO DO TO MAKE THEM LEAVE?!" Tommy thundered, almost making Tubbo wince.
"I DON'T KNOW!" Tubbo repeated.
"DON'T SHOUT AT ME!"
"FUCK YOU!") |
Maid to Serve Ch. 6
I was sitting primp and proper, every inch of me showing that I was paying close attention to the briefing. Even if someone removed my helmet, they wouldn’t have seen the slightest sign of anything but careful consideration. I was even taking notes, and thinking of questions to ask. I was a dedicated listener.
There was absolutely zero reason for anything to think that Vista, the experienced superheroine, was attending a briefing with a butt plug inside of her. In fact, there was no reason for anybody but me to ever even know about it. Not even Skitter.
“And so, we expect that the main force of the NAB to arrive over the weekend. We’ll be stepping up patrols on the south side of town, trying to intercept them before they can go to ground. If we run into any of the Brotherhood’s capes, we will be calling you on to provide assistance.”
I nodded along with the rest of the Wards. It looked like it was going to be a busy few weeks coming up. A gang that had proved its chops enough in New York by not being completely dismantled by Legend, moving on to easier pickings. The same old story, time and time again. Heck, it had happened to Brockton Bay a few times.
The briefing continued, the questions asked and answered, points clarified, plans made. The usual meetings that had to happen before any action could actually happen. The briefing slowly ran down, as I kept on squeezing around the toy inside of me. It was making me feel good. And I had enough experience with butt plugs that nobody would even ask you why I was walking funny.
Still, it was a ‘good’ (not really good at all, it still hurt after all these years) that Dean wasn’t around anymore. He could have asked some hard questions about why I was getting turned on during a threat briefing. No easy answers there!
“I have the utmost confidence in all of you,” Deputy Director Lennick said, staring at each of the masked and helmeted faces. “Especially you two, Vista, Toggle. Some more of that quick thinking, and the Klanners will bounce off of us like a rubber ball.”
I smiled, and saw Toggle fidgeting next to me in happiness. It was good to be complimented for doing a good job, even if it was from someone I didn’t actually trust. Well, at least he hadn’t killed me for poking into his secrets yet. Assuming he had secrets, or that he knew I was looking into them.
“Not a problem, sir,” I answered. “We’re always ready to do our part.”
In fact, I was doing more than your part. That was why I was infiltrating Skitter’s operations. Obviously. What other reason would I have? I barely noticed how my tongue flicks out to lick my lips.
“We gave those goons a licking,” Toggle said, her smile abundantly obvious even behind her rigid faceplate. “And we’ll do the same to these guys!”
There was a lot of cheers and whoops at that. How much was because we were actually full of morale and thought this would be easy, versus acting confident because we were supposed to, I couldn’t say. Still, I joined in.
The briefing broke up soon after that. A good thing, too. Despite regulations about how much time minors could spend on the clock as superheroes, there still tended to be way too much time spent with my ass planted on a seat. Which was generally alright, because I normally didn’t have anything else to do with my time. But I had a shift with Skitter today, and I didn’t want to miss it.
“Vistaaaaa!”
Even though I knew it was coming (because it was Toggle), I still jumped a bit as I heard the rapidly approaching feet coming up behind me. I only half-managed to turn around when she slammed into me, her arms clattering against my breastplate as she wrapped me in a hug. Her helmet bounced against my visor.
“Hi, Toggle,” I gasped.
“Oh man, did you hear what Lenny said? He said we were doing a great job!” Toggle stopped hugging me long enough to make a fist and shake it in triumph. When she tried to resume the hug, I put my hands up to fend her off. “And it’s all thanks to you, V!”
I flushed a bit, looking over Toggle’s shoulder as the rest of the Wards filed out. I got some amused glances (or, for Clockblocker, amused body language) as they left me alone with her.
“You helped just as much,” I said, trying to calm her down. Toggle was a really good name for her, for more reasons then just her powers. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“Oh, please,” Toggle said, her eyes dancing behind her goggles, “I wouldn’t have even thought to go check that alley without you! It’s like you knew that there was going to be something there.”
Well, yeah. I did. I wouldn’t have bothered otherwise. Not that I could tell Toggle that, even if she wasn’t in one of her up moods.
And, frankly, either one of us could have handled it. There had just been three guys in the safe house, none of them with powers.
Still, a quick fight was a hell of a lot better then a long fight. And it meant that apartment wasn’t trashed, possibly hiding anything in the wreckage. That was always a concern when Toggle had to use her powers too much. Luckily, she hadn’t, and the wad of documents we found sealed inside a paper bag had been stashed inside the toilet bowl. Easy peasy, and a very good affirmation that I was doing the right thing, spying on Skitter.
Not that I could tell Toggle that. Actually, I couldn’t tell Toggle much of anything at the moment. She was getting kind of overstimulated, feeling too good about both going a good job and getting complimented for doing a good job to listen to very much. And, since there wasn’t anyone else I could pawn her off on, I was going to be listening to her gush about how good everything was for a while.
Not too long, hopefully. I still had an appointment to keep.
Half an hour later, I was back as Missy Biron, just your average girl. Your average girl who still had a toy buried inside her ass, and that was shifting from side to side as I walked. And man, it felt nice.
Not that I took smaller steps or anything. In fact, I was walking ever quicker then was normal. I wanted to get back to Skitter, and see what she had to say.
Not about my buttplug, because I was sure she didn’t know about it. But about how mad she was that the daring, dashing and heroic duo of Vista and Toggle had raided her safehouse and gotten some of her thugs arrested. We really had done a good job, and I had been so lucky finding that spot over the laundromat. So very lucky.
Once I got to Skitter’s base, I quickly changed out from my street clothes and into my maid costume. Away went Missy Biron, and out came Maid Missy, the feared supervillain’s dedicated servant. The other thing that came out was the butt plug, washed and put away. Skitter wouldn’t like it if I rewarded myself on the job with that.
When I felt good here, it was because Skitter wanted me to feel good. Maybe she would fill my ass up with a toy, making me clutch and groan and moan and cum. Or maybe she’d just turn on the vibrators I had just taped to my nipples. Whatever she did, it would be because she wanted me to feel it, not because I was allowed to do it for myself.
I trotted upstairs, wondering if Skitter would be in today. She usually was, though, from a comment Charlotte had made, she was out a lot more often on the times when I wouldn’t be there. And that was something I had thought long and hard about, trying to figure out if she meant what I thought she meant.
“Good afternoon, ma’am,” I called out, stepping on to the second floor. I didn’t have to look around to find Skitter.
She was right there in at her desk, typing away at her laptop and checking a phone. She turned her head towards me, as if she hadn’t known I was here from blocks away. She wasn’t wearing her mask, a pair of glasses perched on her face.
“Hello, Missy,” Skitter said. “How are you?”
“I’m good, ma’am. And you?” I asked, walking closer. Maybe I’d get lucky and get a glimpse of what she was working on. And maybe I’d be really lucky, and it wouldn’t be a list of recipes.
“Tired,” she said, sighing heavily. “Really tired.”
Man, I could relate to that. Being a cape meant that there were long periods where sleep was never something you quite had enough of. Not something the two of us should bond over, though.
“With what, ma’am?” I asked, stopping a few feet away from her. Sadly, she shifted position a bit, blocking my view of the screen. An accident? Natural carefulness? Something more? I couldn’t say. “Is there anything I can do to help out?”
“Maybe,” Skitter said, smiling slightly and staring at me. “What do you know about Vista, Missy?”Oh well, she’s the most amazing and wonderful superheroine in the USA. She’s cute and pretty and I would make out with her if she asked. She certainly deserves a lot better then getting stuck in a town like this.
Those were all things I didn’t say. I had an idea where this was going, though, related to the raid on the safe house.
“Um, she’s a superheroine,” I said, doing my best to look confused and struggling to remember. “She’s a couple years older then me, I think, and can make it take a long while to get anywhere.” I paused and tilted my head. “Why?”
“Oh, she’s becoming a minor pain,” Skitter said, leaning back in her chair. “I was thinking…” she stared at me, for an uncomfortably long time, before nodding. “Yeah, how would you like to dress up as her?”
Shit. Vista and Skitter hadn’t met that often, and a photo wasn’t a good substitute. But it wouldn’t take a genius to look at even the pictures of me the Protectorate had on their website and then at me in even a bad replica of my costume to see the resemblance. Okay, try to get her off the subject, without looking like I was trying to get her off. The subject, I added, cursing myself.
“I’m… not going to dress up as Vista and infiltrate the PRT for you, ma’am,” I said slowly.
“Ha!” Skitter laughed, laughing longer and harder then I could ever recall her doing. “Dress up and…? Wow, what kind of idiot would fall for something like that? No, no,” she said, holding up her hand and smiling widely, “I was just thinking of you dressing up as her for some,” her smile became a bit more lecherous, “private time, between you and me.”
I blushed, thinking of all the things Skitter could do to me. And how they wouldn’t hurt all that much.
“Really, ma’am? Sky High told me that when the villains get foiled, they rant and rave in their darkened lairs, vowing revenge for next time. Not, uh…” I trailed off, blushing as a certain kind of image filled my mind.
“Not leering over their captured rival while slowly stripping them?” Skitter asked, quirking her eyebrows and smiling. “They might have gotten more viewers if they had done that.”
I giggled and nodded. Although, now that the idea had come to me, it was very slow leaving my mind. The idea of what Skitter could do to a captured Vista, making her, me, pay Skitter back for all the trouble I had caused, it was, um, well, no need to think about what exact emotion was making my belly feel like that.
“But seriously,” Skitter said, tapping her fingers on her desk, “I think I just might ask Parian to whip something up for you. Maybe do a fitting next Monday.” She frowned. “Assuming she’s makes it through.”
“Ma’am?” I asked, sounding puzzled, even though I had an idea what she was obliquely referring to.
“Okay, Missy,” Skitter said, taking a deep breath and running her hand over her face. “Things are going to get bad this weekend. The National Aryan Brotherhood is coming up from New York, and the capes will be coming in Friday night, Saturday morning. We’re going to be stomping on them, but things could still get nasty.”
Nothing I hadn’t heard at the Wards briefing.
“Missy,” Skitter said, sounding very serious and looking me in the eyes. “I don’t want you to come here during the weekend, okay? They may hit this place, and I want you at home with your family. Hell, if you can convince them to go up north or west for the weekend, do it. I don’t want to see hide or hair of you until Monday, at the earliest. Understand?”
I more then understood. I was glad for it. I was going to spending Friday through Sunday with the Wards anyway, and now I didn’t need to worry about keeping up appearances with Skitter. Even if there was a chance we might meet, fighting off the Empire 88’s would-be replacements.
“Of course, ma’am. I’ll stay home. And, good luck, ma’am.”
“Thanks,” Skitter said, reaching out and patting my shoulder. “I shouldn’t need it, not with all us getting ready to smash some scum. But they have enough rabble that it might take a while to hunt them all down. Stay safe, try not to go outside.”
“Of course, ma’am,” I repeated, nodding. “Is there anything you’d like for me to do today?”
Skitter glanced at her laptop and then down at her phone. She closed both of them before standing up. She smile down at me, seeming far too tall all of a sudden.
“Actually, I think I’m due for a break. Eleven hours working is enough for anyone.”
I gulped. When Skitter thought it was time for a break, that meant I wasn’t just going to be using a feather duster and a vacuum cleaner. Today was obviously going to be one of those days.
“Why don’t you… tidy up, while I go get ready,” Skitter said, waving vaguely at the couch behind me.
I turned to look at it, as Skitter walked off towards the stairs. The only thing I could see wrong with the couch was that the cushions weren’t symmetrical, and that there was a magazine left open. I fixed those, and then stared upwards, wondering what on earth Skitter was doing up there in her private rooms.
And also starting to feel a bit turned on. It was getting harder and harder to deny that I was just working as Skitter’s maid for the chance to get information on her operations. She made me feel good, in ways I never would have thought to do to myself. Her fingers on me, I had to shivered at the thought.
Even the, well, shackles of it were weirdly enjoyable. The chastity belt, stopping me from ever touching myself, was strangely reassuring around my hips. I knew I looked cute in the maid costume. The spankings felt way better then I would ever admit to.
Of course, that was all creeping around the real question, wasn’t it? I sat down on the couch, staring at my lap. The maid outfit, the butt plugs, that was all fun. But who was I doing it with?
Skitter was not a very good person. Even if she could be nice to me, there was a long, long list of things she had done to other people. Alexandria, all of my teammates and myself… So why did I always look forward to coming here?
Was it because Skitter cared about me? But she didn’t not really. She acted like she did, she may even think she cared about me, but without knowing that I was Vista and that I was spying on her, how could she really be accurate in her feelings? And I knew she didn’t know about me being Vista. There was no way I would still be here if she did.
But it still felt nice to feel her hands on my body. Not even on my rear or anything, just touching my face felt really, really good. And when I looked at her when the mask was off, and I could see the light in her eyes… the thought that I was the only one who got to see that look really struck home for me.
I stood up as I heard Skitter coming back down the stairs. I’d have to think about that stuff later. For now, I had to be a good maid for my boss. Whatever that meant doing and being today.
Skitter appeared, carrying quite a bit of stuff in her arms. I gulped, even before I got a good look at it. Today was going to be unusual, even more weird then tending to a strap-on of whatever.
“I remembered how cute you looked when I was showing you all those pictures,” Skitter said, a gleeful tone in her voice. “So I just had to buy some of the gear we saw in them.”
She set the stuff down on the couch. I stared down at it, feeling my jaw hit my chest as I looked. I, I, what was all of this? Actually, I could recognize most of it and guess at the rest, which didn’t do anything to reassure me.
Reaching down, I picked up the mask. I was very familiar with masks in my line of work. But this wasn’t one that I had ever seen on another cape. It was tight, black latex, with only three holes in it. One at the base, to wrap around my neck. One at the back, for my hair to stick out of. And one right where my mouth would be. A way to see out of it didn’t seem to enter the equation.
“Ma’am?” I asked nervously, glancing between it and Skitter. “Is this for me?” As if I didn’t know the answer.
“No, Missy, it’s for my pet cat,” Skitter said in a calm, level voice. “Of course it’s for you. And it should fit on even over your maid costume. We just need to remove the headdress.”
Skitter’s fingers pressed against my hair for a second as she lifted the black and white band off of me. I blinked as I looked down at the rest of the gear. That was a lot more mundane, though the implications of it were worrying.
“And the ropes, ma’am?”
“Well, I’ve been studying some manuals on it, and I’m certain I know how to safely truss you up. Won’t you look cute like that?” Skitter said, running her hand up and down my back.
“Um,” I eloquently responded. “Yeah.”
“Now, Missy,” Skitter said, her voice getting serious. “I don’t want to hurt you. Beyond, you know,” she mimed spanking me. I nodded. “If thing’s start hurting, in a bad way, I want you to tell me, understand? Some word that makes it clear you aren’t just telling me not to throw you in the briar patch.”
A safe word. Right. You know, I had thought about getting one when getting measured by Parian, and that was the last time the whole idea occurred to me. Heck, what would I even choose? Beyond something easy to pronounce.
“Sanskrit,” I said after a moment’s thought. Seeing Skitter’s raised eyebrows, I flushed a bit. “It’s easy to say, and you’re not going to ask me for a language lesson, ma’am.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Skitter said, laughter weaving through her words. “I think you’re quite the cunning linguist.”
I rolled my eyes and flushed a bit. Skitter laughed at my reaction before nodding.
“Sanskrit, then. I’ll untie you immediately if you say it.” She waved the mask in front of my face. “And now…”
I gulped, grabbing the mask. I took a deep breath, before glancing up at Skitter. There was a hunger in her eyes as she looked down at me.
I pulled the mask on, closing my eyes as I did so. It was a very tight fit, and I wondered how on earth people got those full-body latex suits on. I was also worried about ripping it as I slowly pulled down, feeling my head slide deeper and deeper into it.
I opened my eyes, and then rolled them. Yeah, without eyeholes, that was going to do a whole lot of good. I looked around, or at least turned my head from side to side.
“Skitter?” I asked, raising my hands and waving them around myself.
“Yes, Missy?”
Her voice was crystal clear. And electronically tinged. There were speakers built into the mask, I realized, right over my ears. And since I hadn’t heard Skitter’s voice (yeah, yeah, I knew what I meant), that would mean that…
“Just, uh, don’t leave me alone, ma’am,” I said, shivering slightly. Even though I could take the mask off at any time, it didn’t feel right to do so.
And more importantly, I only heard my voice inside myself. Only through the vibrations in my body, instead of coming through my ears. I reached up, patting the sides of my head. Sure enough, there were thick, hard circles right above my ears.
“That’s right, Missy,” Skitter said, her voice soft and warm. “You’re only going to hear what I want you to hear.”
My heart was pounding in my chest. This was intense, more then anything I had expected. No sight, no sound, completely at the mercy of Skitter, who was so famed for her gentleness. And since I couldn’t hear her breathing, she had to be turning on the microphone or whatever to speak. She could do anything to me, and I wouldn’t have the least idea what before it actually happened.
I whimpered, feeling a surge of arousal run through my body. Why? Why was this idea so hot? Yes, I’d already let Skitter do so much to me, but this was signing over some very basic senses to her! Man, what was wrong with me that the idea appealed to me so much?
“Are you alright, Missy?” Skitter asked. I shivered a bit as she put a hand on my shoulder, the side of her finger pressing against my neck.
I hesitated a minute before nodding. I was okay. I could keep on doing this. I was a good maid for Skitter, and she wanted me to do this. There. That sounded a lot better. I was just doing through a weird, unpleasant experience to gain Skitter’s trust so that I could better find out her secrets. Nothing wrong with that.
“I’m fine, ma’am,” I said, softly. “What’s next?”
There was a pause, while Skitter kept her hand on my shoulder. I wondered why. Was she trying to see if I was telling the truth? I was. I wanted Skitter to keep going. This was freaky, but it wasn’t too much.
It didn’t feel great when Skitter took her hand away. But I forced myself to remain still, staring sightlessly ahead. I knew she wasn’t going to leave me along for long.
“Now, this rope is spider silk,” Skitter said. “It’s going to feel lovely on your skin.” I could hear the smile in her voice. “And it’s going to look even better.”
I stuck my hands out, pressing my wrists close together. I knew about this much, at least, from training. But at least silk was going to feel a whole lot nicer on my skin then steel.
“Good, I like a bit of initiative,” Skitter said, her voice coming crystal clear through the speakers. “But put them behind your back.”
Blushing underneath the hood, I did so. I got a barely felt pat on top of my head as thanks. I could, just barely, feel the air moving around as Skitter stepped behind me.
Skitter looped the rope around my wrists. After a minute of her bare fingers brushing against my skin, she pulled away, and I tried to pull my wrists apart. I couldn’t do it. They were wrapped together, with maybe a quarter of an inch of give. I couldn’t even get my fingers to press against the cords.
But Skitter was right. They did feel soft. Soft and smooth, sliding against my skin. I liked the feeling. But I also knew that Skitter had brought down a lot more rope then what was around my wrists.
“Missy, you always look cute,” Skitter said, a hungry tone in her voice. “But now, you’re starting to look beautiful.”
I shivered, loving the tone of voice she used to describe me. I wondered what I looked like right now. Maybe Skitter would take some photos for me to see. Not that I wanted anyone else to look at them. Not even Skitter, not if I wasn’t in the room with her.
“And now, Missy, we’re going to move to another room. Understand?”
Move? Move where? About seventy-five percent of our time together was spent right here in this room. We weren’t going to go downstairs, were we? I didn’t want to be seen, looking like this. Not even by someone who was no more then an acquaintance, like Charlotte.
“Where are we going?” I asked, wincing at the quaver in my voice.
“Upstairs,” Skitter said, soothingly. She must have heard the worry in my voice, because she ran her fingers around the base of my neck, right around the bottom of the mask. “Now that there’s no way you can sneak a peek, I’m willing to bring you up there.”
Upstairs. Huh. So far as I knew, Skitter was the only person who ever went up there. I hadn’t, and I hadn’t even seen Charlotte or anyone else going up there either. She must really like her privacy if the only way I was allowed up there was with a mask on and my hands tied behind my back.
“Okay, ma’am,” I said, suddenly feeling a bit more cheerful about the whole thing. “Lead the way.”
“Lead?” Skitter asked, sounding amused. “I was going to let you go up there all by yourself.”
I turned slightly to where I thought Skitter was and fixed her with my best glare. Even if she couldn’t see my face, I was sure she got the message.
She got it, alright. The speakers in the mask cut on, halfway through her laughter. She didn’t seem impressed by my glare at all. How rude of her.
“I’m over here, by the way, Missy,” Skitter said. She obviously knew how useless that was as an instruction, since she laughed again. “Carefully, though.”
As if I needed to be told that. I could already tell how slow and steady I would need to walk. At least Skitter’s hands were on my shoulders, guiding me along. It felt nice to be guided by her, to have her warn me about each and every step. I was barely able to get up them, my legs were so tightly tied together. If only I could use my powers, this would be so much easier.
And then lead to something that was a whole lot harder to deal with.
It really was weird not to be able to hear anything except the sound of my own breathing. And even that was more from the vibrations inside of me then through my ears. It reminded me of being caught in Grue’s darkness, which was hardly a pleasant thought.
Skitter must have felt me tensing up, because she squeezed down, pressing against the muscles in my shoulders with her hands. It felt nice, and I forced myself to calm down. I wasn’t fighting, I wasn’t in danger. I was just with Skitter, the supervillain I was spying on. I was perfectly safe.
Skitter guided me up the stairs, onto the floor I had never visited. There was no way to tell what it was like. Beyond stomping my foot and feeling either wood or tile underneath me. Wood, probably.
“And here we are,” Skitter said, her hands leaving me. But not for long, I bet.
And, sure enough, I felt a pair of hands nudging my feet together. I closed them tightly, wondering just how much of my body Skitter was going to tie up. I was certain she was going to truss me up until I couldn’t move. Couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, and soon I wouldn’t be able to move. There was a tightening sensation inside me that I, shamefully, realized was arousal.
Skitter didn’t just stop with tying my feet together. Next, I felt her hands on my knees, the warmth of her skin sinking through my stockings. More rope tied my knees together, so that I couldn’t even bring my thighs apart.
And she kept on going. Her hands glided over my body, creating what felt like a web of silk rope over my torso, pressing down against my maid costume. I shivered, wondering what she was planning to do. And how I looked. The rope was dividing my body into geometrical sections, diamonds and triangles. And even with the lengths of rope running underneath my crotch, pressing against the chastity bely, or the ropes framing my breasts, the rope I was most aware of was the one around my neck. It was a collar, resting just above my maid uniform and just below the latex hood.
And then I felt her tying my elbows together. Swiftly followed by the rope around my elbows getting attached to the rope around my body. And that was that. I was trapped, tied up in enough rope that breathing was the entire extent of what I could do.
I couldn’t move my arms. I couldn’t move my legs. I couldn’t do anything but try and keep my balance, feeling Skitter moving around me.
I could feel myself getting turned on. Getting really, really turned on. I was completely and utterly helpless. There wasn’t a thing I could do. Whatever plans Skitter had for me, there was nothing stopping them from happening. I wouldn’t even know about them until I felt the whip on my body or whatever she was going to do. Why did being so helpless feel so right?
“Oh, Missy,” Skitter said, her voice full of awe. “Oh, girl, you look amazing. You have no idea how hot you look right now.”
Skitter sounded aroused. Like she was almost as turned on as I was. And it was because of me that she was sounding like this. That was a hot thought, I had to admit.
“All that black and white, with the red ropes breaking it up…” Skitter said again. “Oh, Missy, you look good enough to eat.”
I jumped, feeling her hands running down my back. Even if I looked good, I wished she was running her fingers along my bare skin. That always felt so much better.
“Thank you, ma’am,” I said, shivering. I was starting to feel, um, really good, getting praised like this. But there were other ways for me to feel good. “Um, ma’am?” I asked, already feeling embarrassed and ashamed.
“Yes, Missy?” Skitter cooed, her voice sounding as sweet as syrup. I wondered where she was. Behind me? In front of me? “What’s on your mind.”
“I-“ I started to say, before cutting myself off, blushing heavily. God, oh God, what was I doing? “Should I really be up here?” My voice was strangled, fighting to get the words out.
“No, not normally,” Skitter said, sounding confused. “But since I brought you up here, it’s okay, Missy.”
“No!” I got out, squeaking. What was wrong with me, that I was fighting for this? “I’m breaking the rules by being up here, Skitter. Don’t you, don’t you…” I trailed off, my nerve finally giving out.
“Don’t I think you should be punished?” Skitter asked, sounding amused and delighted. “I didn’t, but since you made such a convincing case for it…” She laughed, a low chuckle that sent a shiver down my spine.
A shiver of what? I couldn’t quite say.
“Yes, yes I think a naughty little maid with prying eyes who came up here should be punished,” Skitter said, liking the idea more and more. “But what am I going to do with such a naughty girl?” Skitter’s hands landed on my sides, making me squeak. “It will have to be something that really teaches her a lesson, won’t it?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said, closing my eyes. My breathing was coming faster and faster as I tried to get control of myself. I was so wet, my arousal sneaking past my chastity belt and staining my panties. And the rope, too. Not that I could feel it. “Please make me a good girl.”
The words came out all in a rush. I had no idea how Skitter was going to punish me. A spanking at the very least. But there were so many other ideas that were coming to me. Almost all of them from that time I had sat on Skitter’s lap and she had shown off what one woman could to do another woman and make her feel good.
“One second, Missy,” Skitter. “I need to get some tools. Just stay right there, okay?”
As if I was going to do anything else. I didn’t hear Skitter leave, and I didn’t even know if she had left. I kept standing in the middle (or the edge, maybe) of the room, trying to get myself under control.
What had I just done? Had I really just asked to be punished, when it sounded as if Skitter hadn’t been planning to do anything of the sort? Yes, obviously. So then, why did it sound so good? I was turned on, my nipples were poking out, my pussy was wet, and I was breathing hard, trying to deal with the knot of arousal inside my belly.
“And I’m back,” Skitter said. I could practically see the stuff in her arms. The paddle, the dildo, the strap-on, all sorts of stuff.
“Now, Missy,” Skitter said, stepping behind me. I could feel her body pressed against my back. “You’ve been a bad girl, and you’ve been a good girl, haven’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said, very, very quietly.
“You’ve been a good girl because you let me dress you up without a hint of complaint. The hood, the ropes, it all went on perfectly, didn’t it? And you look so good in them.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said, nodding.
“But you’ve also been a bad girl, haven’t you?” Skitter asked, her arms sliding up and down the front of my body. I shivered, feeling her hands pressing down against the ropes and my clothes. “You came all the way up here, breaking the rules.” I could imagine Skitter shaking her head in disappointment. “That’s what a bad girl does, isn’t it?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I replied yet again, feeling more and more nervous, the tension mingling with the arousal.
“And now I have to punish you,” Skitter said musingly. “Punish you, and reward you.”
To the little extent that I could, I had started rubbing my thighs together, thinking of what Skitter was going to do to me. And wondering if she was going to surprise me with something even more intense then I thought. Was she going to spank and fuck me, alternating blows on my rear with a pump of a strap-on? That sounded- good, really, really good.
“First, you’re going to take five steps forward, and then kneel down,” Skitter said, her voice soft, firm, and utterly irresistible.
I did so, taking five miniscule steps, hoping, trusting, that Skitter wasn’t going to let me crash into something. Then, carefully, slowly, and still almost losing my balance, I kneeled down. It was hard to say how, exactly, but I thought there was something in front of me.
“And now you can rest your upper body on the bed, Missy,” Skitter said, her voice clear in my ears. “Oh, wait a second.”
I frowned, feeling her pressing against my head briefly. Then her hands withdrew and I didn’t feel anything different. What had just happened?
“You left your maid headdress downstairs,” Skitter said, obviously guessing at my confusion. “Wouldn’t want my maid to be out of her uniform.”
Right. That was the kind of thing that was important right now. I wondered how I looked, my blonde hair sticking out of the back of the black mask, and now with the white and black headdress sitting on top. Ridiculous, probably. Even if Skitter didn’t think so. Even if I felt kind of good, tied up like this.
I jumped a bit as Skitter’s hands descended on my body. She groped my chest, her fingers pressing down through the uniform, teasing my breasts and knocking against the vibrators taped to my nipples. The vibrators that had been silent for as long as I had been wearing them. I wondered when, if, they’d turn back on. Or if she was going to leave them off, and today would be an all-anal session.
I was getting good with my ass, I knew. The way Skitter could play with my butt, it was like nothing else I ever had done to me. Who would have thought that I could cum from my rear? And not just once, but again and again. Sure, I knew guys could do that (so a good half of the porn I looked at was about guys with guys? So what?), but I hadn’t ever really thought that a girl’s ass could feel so good. Not until Skitter had demonstrated it to me over and over again.
I could, just barely, feel Skitter’s body pressed against my back. If I pushed myself back a bit, I was certain that I could feel more. But, somehow, that just didn’t seem right to do. I should just stay here, letting Skitter do whatever she thought was best to me. That seemed like a much better idea, yes.
Skitter’s hands ran up and down my body, and all along my limbs. It felt nice, getting held like that. I thought it would feel even better if she held me in her lap, before flushing and trying to get rid of the thought.
I hissed through my teeth as Skitter pressed against my crotch. I could feel the chastity belt shift, just a little. Not nearly enough for me to feel anything more, but just the momentary sensation felt good. Almost as good as my ass would feel, wrapped around one of Skitter’s toys.
How long had it been since I touched my pussy when I was masturbating? Just my pussy, I meant. On the increasingly rare occasions I masturbated at home (rare because I was so busy, no other reason, obviously), I tended to play with my ass a bit as well. My fingers didn’t feel as good as a dildo did, but, then again, neither did my pussy. Not compared to what Skitter could do to me.
And I was with Skitter often enough that I didn’t need to masturbate often. Skitter would take care of me when I came to work for her. She would take such good care of me. Honestly, masturbation just couldn’t compare, even if I was allowed to touch my pussy when I was by myself.
And even as I thought that, Skitter’s hands glided around my waist, coming to my rear. I gasped and straightened up, wanting, needing what she was about to do. Punishment, pleasure, pain, I wanted anything she was willing to give to me.
“I just can’t get over what a sweet little ass you have, Missy,” Skitter said, her voice seeming to bypass my ears and going straight to my brain. “I can grab it in both hands, and knead and squeeze it.”
She was doing just that. I muffled a moan, before realizing there was no reason to. So I moaned again, but louder. Skitter’s hands felt wonderful on my rear, even through the skirt of the uniform. Rough, but that was part of what made them wonderful.
Then Skitter’s hands slipped underneath my skirt, and started playing with my bare skin. I moaned, pushing my hips back, pressing my rear against her hands. She was making me feel so good, and I wanted to feel more of it.
But after far too short of a time, she drew her hands back, leaving me alone. I moaned, pointlessly looking over my shoulder and not seeing anything but an all-consuming black.
“Okay, that’s enough of that,” Skitter said. I wondered if I had really heard that faint note of regret in her voice. “Now lean forward. Again.”
Skitter planted a hand in the small of my back and grabbed my shoulder with her other hand. She gently pushed forward, and I went with her, having to trust her that she wouldn’t let me fall flat on my face.
I did, but only for a few inches. This had to be Skitter’s bed that my face and upper body were pressed against. I wondered if she had spider-themed bedsheets.
I shivered, feeling Skitter hiking my skirt up. As much as it could go, at least, since there was the rope running underneath me. Then I felt Skitter’s hands tugging my panties down. I wiggled my hips, showing off my bare (except for the chastity belt) ass.
“Now, there was one more toy I bought that I didn’t show you,” Skitter said in a tense, anticipatory voice. “I think you’re going to like it.”
What now? Another dildo? Another butt plug? Something I hadn’t even heard of?
Then I felt something getting dragged across my rear. I yelped, softly, not quite expecting it. If Skitter laughed at it, I couldn’t hear her through the latex. What was it? I frowned, concentrating on my rear as Skitter ran it over my butt once more.
It seemed like it was many things, actually. I could feel individual strands separating and running along my rear. They felt kind of soft, or at least flexible. And Skitter was running it, or them, over me for the third time.
“Like it?” Skitter asked. “It’s a flogger. It’s supposed to feel so much better then just a bare hand when it comes to spanking naughty, disobedient maids who can’t follow the rules.”
Somehow, I doubted those exact words were advertised as a selling point on the packaging. But that was what only a small part of my mind was thinking. The rest of me was thinking about how a flogger would feel on me. I knew a bit about them. I was certain Skitter was right, and this was going to be a lot more intense than just a spanking.
“And, because you were a good girl, you’ll get your reward at the same time as your punishment,” Skitter said, in a calm, level tone that still had a hint of excitement.
I gasped, feeling something pressing against my ass. I was right. Skitter was going to spank, well, flog, me while she was fucking me. Maybe I shouldn’t feel quite so excited over guessing that, but I was.
“And remember, Missy,” Skitter said. “If it gets to be too much, just say so. Say so in the right way, understand?”
I nodded. I could still remember the safe word. I had no idea if I would need it or not.
I relaxed myself as much as I could, feeling the toy pressing against my lower hole. It was already heavily lubed up, and I cleaned myself out at least once a day. There was absolutely nothing stopping Skitter from entering me.
I groaned, feeling the dildo, the strap-on, whatever it was, sliding into me. It felt big, but not any bigger then anything else I had taken. And it felt good. It was a struggle to keep myself relaxed enough not to clench up around it.
Skitter stopped well before I had to stop. I could tell that there was still more of the dildo sticking out of me. I opened my mouth to ask (just ask, not beg, I reassured myself) for more, when I realized that of course I wasn’t going to get more. Not just yet, at least.
What I did get was the flogger landing on my butt. I gasped, my head shooting up, away from the softness of the bed. That was way more intense then Skitter’s hand! But even as I thought that, I also realized that the pleasure was just as strong as the pain.
“Oohhh,” I moaned, slowly letting my head sink back down to the bed.
“Did that hurt, Missy?” Skitter asked, her voice too sweet to be believable. “Did my naughty little maid not like that?”
I didn’t like it. And I did. It hurt, but it was a good kind of hurt. And it was a hurt I knew I would be feeling a lot more of. Hopefully after Skitter pushed into me a bit deeper.
Skitter did exactly that, pushing the rod further into my ass. I moaned, twitching my hips from side to side. And then I felt something pressing against my thighs. It was her thighs, I realized. Skitter was using the strap-on on me, just like she had when I had kissed her.
The thought of that sent a rush of blood to my cheeks. That had been… something. Yeah. Really something. And not something I should be thinking about right now, when I should be focusing on my punishment for being a bad maid, and my reward for being a good girl.
Skitter was in as far as she could go. And it seemed like she wasn’t quite so far in as she had been the last time. A change in position, I guessed. She still felt great inside of me. So far in, stretching me out so much, it felt completely wonderful.
The impact of the flogger on my ass didn’t feel quite as good. Or, at least, there was pain mixed in with the pleasure, instead of the undiluted pleasure of getting my ass fucked. I moaned, twisting around on the bed.
“If you keep on moving like that, it’s just going to take longer to finish,” Skitter said. Her tone said that she wanted me to keep moving around, regardless of what her words were. “See? I almost missed with that one.”
“Ga-ah!”
That impact was sharp. Every strand of the flogger seemed to hit with so much force then her hand ever did. It sent a red-hot feeling through me, mixing with the pink arousal that was already inside my lower belly. I gasped for breath, feeling the air rasping over my mouth.
And then Skitter started pulling out of me. My hands formed into fists, as I felt the thick dildo sliding out of my stretched rear. It was so intense. How could I handle feeling like this?
This time, Skitter didn’t stop inside of me before hitting me with the flogger. She kept on going, moving in and out, tanning my bottom with the toy. I groaned, feeling tears start to form in the corners of my eyes. The sensations were just too much.
My pussy was drooling, completely and utterly neglected as arousal ran out from me, soaking my clothes with the shameful lust of getting fucked and flogged and loving it. My nipples were stiff, rubbing against the vibrators taped to them. If only Skitter would turn them on, that would be pure, unalloyed pleasure.
Assuming I wanted pure pleasure. The pain from the repeated impacts, it was starting to feel good. I could still feel the impact of the strands against my rear, but I liked it. It was sick, but it felt so good, as Skitter spanked me again and again, and as she kept on sliding the toy in and out of me, making me moan and groan and feel wonderful agony.
I was drooling, staining Skitter’s sheets. But there was no way I could keep my mouth closed. I was feeling too good, there was so much stimulation, I couldn’t do anything but take and take and take it. And Skitter kept on giving it to me.
A small part of me wondered what Skitter was getting out of this. I couldn’t remember if the strap-on was double-ended or not. And if it wasn’t, was I going to eat her out? Would I be forced down, my ass still red and stinging, my head still wrapped in the hood, sightless and soundless, made to eat out the supervillain’s sopping wet pussy?
I made a small sound of pure need as the idea washed over me. It was hot, way hotter then anything that twisted had any right to be. Maybe if Skitter didn’t come up with the idea herself, I could suggest it, as one further way to make up for my mistakes.
But right now-! My thoughts were completely and utterly scrambled as Skitter thrust all the way inside of me at the same moment she hit my rear with the flogger. For a moment, I simply couldn’t think. It wasn’t even an orgasm, just pure sensation. I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t move, I couldn’t be anything but the girl, the maid, the thing wrapped around Skitter’s strap-on.
It took a long while for me to recover from that, and Skitter didn’t help by continuing to whip and fuck me. I could feel my orgasm slowly growing inside of me, getting closer and closer. It was feeling so good, the pleasure and the pain mixing into something that was so much better than just pleasure.
And then, finally, I got it. It wasn’t anything special from Skitter, just the right movement at the right moment. I came, hard. My pussy squeezed down around nothing, as I felt the wave of sensations rushing through me, roaring like a fire. I twitched on the bed, trying to pull myself off or impale myself deeper on Skitter’s cock. Either way, it felt great, as Skitter’s dildo scraped against my inner walls, making me feel so, so good.
My legs felt like they needed to kick, to shake, to wrap themselves around something. But they were tied so tightly, in so many spots, that there wasn’t the slightest chance of that happening. All I could do was tremble, feeling what Skitter was doing to me. And it felt so good.
Another strike with the flogger landed on my ass. I had to be turning red by now. It might be difficult for me to sit down, but who cared? It was feeling so good, she was making me melt, whipping all the badness out of me and filling me up.
It was getting harder and harder to think, but who cared? It felt so good, I didn’t need to think. I just needed to be here for Skitter, for her to work me over and make me feel good. And she was doing such a good job of it.
The pain wasn’t really pain anymore. I could still tell that I was getting hit, that Skitter was still hitting my ass. But it felt good, just like the dildo that was thrusting in and out of me, just like my nipples digging into my uniform. It was all just so good, I couldn’t hold onto it.
I moaned, trying to give voice to everything I was feeling. There was so much welling up inside of me, there was no way I could keep myself quiet. Even if I could barely hear myself moan, the sound mostly traveling through my body.
The hood really was working wonders. Cutting off my sight, cutting off my hearing, it forced me to pay attention to what I was feeling. And I was feeling such wonderful sorts of pain.
Skitter’s dildo was reaching so far inside of me. I could feel her shaft stretching me out, making me gape. And she kept on fucking me, drawing her hips back and slamming them into me, time and time again. There wasn’t a thing I could be but sit there and take it. Take the dildo, and take the flogger.
Because Skitter wasn’t being any gentler with the flogger then she was with the dildo. Again and again, her toy landed on my ass. I could even feel some strands from the device landing on my back, the blows completely cushioned by the thickness of my maid uniform. I wanted to moan, to cry, to beg for Skitter to stop fucking and to urge her to hurt me more.
How could this all feel so good? I knew how wrong it all was, and sometimes, when I was in bed, staring at the ceiling, I could even feel how wrong it was. I was doing all of this, spying, hiding my activities from Skitter and from the Wards. And, of course, I was getting fucked by Skitter or punished by her, or both at once.
And then, when I was with her, everything felt so right. I wanted to be Skitter’s maid, to do a good job and get rewarded, or to mess up and get punished. Having Skitter tell me what to do, as I submissively stared at the ground, nodding my head as she gave me a list of things anyone could do, much less Vista, the longest serving member of the Brockton Bay Wards.
It felt so good. It was feeling so good. I moaned, my thoughts turning me on even more as Skitter thrust deep inside of me, and landed a blow on my rear with her flogger. My body twisted, caught up in the red ropes, unable to escape.
And Skitter wasn’t stopping. She was still slamming into me, going even faster. There wasn’t a thing I could do to stop her, as she forced her way into me again and again, making me melt. And I didn’t want her too.
In fact, I was starting not to want anything. It was all just blending together, my desires and my fears and my body and my mind, all whirling together as Skitter fucked and flogged me. It felt like I was coming apart, not able to do anything but get punished and rewarded by Skitter.
I came again, the pleasure so complete that I could barely even understand that there was anything but the pleasure. I could barely breathe, barely remember how to think. I couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, there was nothing for me but the flogger on my rear and the dildo inside my rear.
I felt like I was teetering right on the edge between two choices. I could let myself sink down and down, becoming the maid who got punished and rewarded, who served her mistress as best as she could. Or I could stay myself. I would still be Vista, and I could still enjoy this, but I wouldn’t know the true release that was being forced on me.
I blinked underneath the mask, my eyes slowly starting to widen. No, I couldn’t surrender myself like that. I was still a superheroine, still someone who had a life outside of being Skitter’s servant. Even if I was trapped- I was trapped!
It- it was all too much. I couldn’t stand it, I couldn’t live like this. I had to get out!
I started trying to jerk away from Skitter, trying to tug myself forward to get off of the dildo. My fingers scrabbled together, trying to get at the cords tying my wrists together. My head thrashed from side to side, trying to find the slightest glimmer of light or sound.
“-ight? Missy, are you okay?” Skitter’s voice came suddenly, cutting in halfway through.
The sound of anything was like a bucket of ice water to me. I was still needed out, but I could think enough to actually talk, to say something. My safeword!
“Sanskrit,” I gasped, my voice rough and panting. “Sanskrit!”
There was a pause for maybe half a second. Then Skitter pulled out of me, my ass reluctantly surrendering the dildo. I could already feel her hands on my neck, grabbing at the base of the mask. I urged her on, no longer wanting to be blind and deaf.
The latex mask came off of me slowly, far too slowly. I felt a momentary surge of panic again, that was only calmed by feeling the material of the mask shift and the pressure of Skitter’s fingers against more and more of my bare skin. My shoulders rose and fell, as I tried to breathe in and out, even though the hole in the mask was above my mouth by now.
And then, finally, it was off. I blinked, blinded all over again by the bright light stabbing into my eyes. But I could hear Skitter, hear her breathing at a higher pitch then I normally thought of her.
“Missy, are you alright?” Skitter asked, grabbing my shoulders. From the big dark and pale blur that appeared in front of me, it must be her. “Talk to me, girl.”
“I’m, I’m,” I said, trying to get my thoughts straight enough to talk. And for my teeth to stop clattering together so much that I couldn’t talk. “Sk-.”
“I’m here, Missy,” Skitter said, pulling me close. Landing against her body was a surprise, but it felt good on a bone deep level. Especially because she had changed out of her Skitter costume to something softer. “I’m right here.”
I was suddenly freezing. It was like my maid costume didn’t offer me a bit of warmth at all. And the heat that had been filling me had vanished completely. My entire body was shaking, my teeth grinding against each other, even as my eyes adjusted to the dim, warm lighting.
“I-I’m c-cold,” I managed to get out, my hands still rubbing against each other, caught in their bindings.
“Don’t worry, Missy,” Skitter said, sounding worried. “Just- here, here’s a blanket.”
My eyes were adjusting to the light well enough to see that I was on Skitter’s bed. And that she was pulling a quilt up from the end of the bed and draping it over me. It was thick, and felt pretty nice. Even if I was completely and utterly dependent on Skitter to adjust it over me, since I was still tied up.
“Missy,” Skitter said, kneeling down next to me. “Are you alright?”
I wasn’t sure. I was still feeling cold, and there was a light headache, pounding inside my skull. I couldn’t stop myself from shivering. And, of course, my ass was still hurting and feeling stretched.
It was weird, and kind of cute, to look up at Skitter when she was so worried. Her expression was drawn into a worried frown (and her face was very good in making frowns in general) as she looked down at me. She also looked kind of cute in a t-shirt and loose shorts. Less cute was the strap-on still jutting out from her hips, smeared with arousal.
“I, I,” I stammered, before swallowing and trying again. “Can you just hold me, Skitter?”
“Of course,” Skitter said, a look of relief washing over her face. She twitched the quilt to one side and crawled in, sliding the strap-on off of her as she did so. “What’s wrong? Is there anything I can do to help?”
“I dunno,” I said tiredly. “I’m just feeling… tired. Really tired all of a sudden. Like it was all just too much.”
Skitter stayed quiet for a moment, getting in deeper underneath the quilt. Her arms wrapped around me, tugging me into a hug. I wished my own hands were free so that I could hug her back. Hugs felt nice.
“I did bring a lot of new stuff in all at once,” Skitter said after a while. “It was too much for you, I guess.”
“M-maybe,” I said, fighting to get my jaw under control and not clattering so hard. “But, can you just- hold me? For a min- Ah, not there!”
Skitter’s hands had dipped down low enough to brush against my ass. My tender, sensitive ass, still stinging very badly from the flogger. She jerked her hands away, bringing one up to cradle the back of my head.
“Sorry,” Skitter murmured, a blush appearing on her cheeks.
I jerkily nodded, wishing the headache would die away. It wasn’t a very bad headache, but it still hurt. And I didn’t want to hurt, not when I was with Skitter.
Okay, I didn’t want to hurt that way. Being spanked or feeling ice cubes running down my back, that was a good kind of hurt. But just a headache? That wasn’t anything I wanted to feel.
“Could I get some aspirin?” I asked quietly. “My head…”
“Of course,” Skitter said. “There should be some…” she turned to the side slightly, her arm groping for something by the side of the bed. “Here, here’s some pills.”
She frowned, looking down at the instructions on the side of the bottle and then up at me. Then she shrugged slightly and popped a single pill out of the bottle. I reached out to take it, and didn’t manage jack, since my hands were still tied behind my back. Rolling my eyes, I opened my mouth.
Skitter popped the pill into my mouth and I knew I made a bunch of goofy expressions as I tried to swallow it. But, eventually, it went down. That done, I sighed and let my head fall back down onto the bed.
I knew I should be indulging my curiosity and seeing how Skitter lived in private. But I just didn’t have the energy. All I was up for right now was being held by Skitter, pressed close up against her body.
And it was a nice body. It was a thin t-shirt, and I could feel her body underneath it. The heat, the softness, the firmness. Well, there wasn’t much softness since she had such tiny breasts, but I could tell that she had abs underneath her t-shirt. Maybe not a full six-pack, but they were certainly there. It was nice to press my face up against them, and gave me something to focus on besides what was happening inside of me.
“Missy,” Skitter said, her breath ruffling against the top of my head, “I’m glad you used the safe word. I got so worried, seeing you thrash around like that…” She shivered. “I wish things hadn’t happened to get you to that point, but I’m glad you kept a cool enough head to ask me to stop.”
“Yeah,” I said tiredly. I was finally starting to feel warm. “But it felt good, ma’am,” I added. “It felt really good for a while. Right up until it didn’t,” I finished, shrugging as much as I was allowed to. I didn’t really want to go in to too much detail about what I had been thinking and feeling. Not with Skitter. Not with anybody.
“I’m glad for that,” Skitter said. Her hands had started plucking at the dyed red ropes all over my body. “And to think, I had something entirely different in mind for you before you asked to be punished.”
“Really?” I asked, my curiosity finally roused. “What?”
“Oh, this and that,” Skitter said vaguely. “You’ll find out later. Next week, probably, since I doubt you’re up for anything today.”
I shook my head. No, I didn’t think I would be able to handle another session like that. Even if Skitter left something out, like the hood or the flogger. I’d just have to hope that we did meet up next week. By Sunday, either one of us could be dead.
And man, that was a tough choice, to try and choose between the two of those. I had really liked both. The flogger had felt so much better then Skitter’s hand did, a sharper, more intense sensation. A more intense pain, really, but pain did feel kind of good.
And the hood was fun too. Just like the ropes I was still tied up in, ceding control over my body, it had a strange kind of thrill to it. Giving control over my senses to Skitter, it was somehow freeing, even as I gave up agency. Like the chastity belt, really. It was one more thing I couldn’t control, so why worry about it.
And then there were the ropes. Just as restrictive as the mask, even more, I supposed, since it stopped me from walking quickly or using my hands or anything. Heck, if Skitter had tied my ankles together a bit more tightly, then I wouldn’t even have been able to walk.
I liked the feeling of all three of them. But they were all new, and all put together. It had just ended up being too much for me to handle. Which was sad, because I had been feeling really good for a while there. Especially because, I blushed, Skitter’s strap-on had been feeling really good inside of me.
“I hope I can undo these knots,” Skitter said, in a musing voice. She was still playing with the ropes all over my body. “It would be a shame if I had to cut these ropes apart.”
I wondered if she even could cut them apart. There had been a lot of reports over the years I had read about how tough it was to cut spider silk. And, given that my skin was right next to the cords, I didn’t want to find out just how sharp of a blade and how strongly it had to be used to get it to be cut.
“Could you just leave them on,” I asked. “I don’t mind the feeling.”
And I didn’t. I really didn’t, even if Skitter raised her eyebrows in surprise. They were the ropes Skitter had made, had even dyed (blotchily, admittedly) and they were for me. And there was still all that stuff about how they held me down, kept me in place, unable to resist anything Skitter wanted to do to me. It was a nice feeling, especially as I recovered from the overload of sensation from her fucking me.
“If that’s what you want, then sure,” Skitter said, shrugging her shoulders.
“Actually, ma’am,” I said, blushing, realizing that I had been forgetting I was Skitter’s maid, and should be showing some respect, “there is one thing I want.”
“Sure,” Skitter said, leaning backwards so she could look down at my face. “What is it?”
“Could I get some cream or something for my rear?” I asked, twitching my hips as much as I could. “It’s really stinging, and kind of distracting.”
Yes, it was a good pain, but I also wanted to be able to focus on being with Skitter right now, instead of feeling the skirt of my uniform pressing against my tender rear. And, I flushed a bit, if my hands were still tied behind my back, there was no way that I could be expected to apply it. Skitter’s hands always felt so good when they were on my body.
“Sure, I think there’s something like that in the first aid kit downstairs. I’ll go and grab it,” Skitter said, swinging herself out from underneath the quilt.
“You will?” I asked, feeling lonely all of a sudden. “Can’t you just send your bugs for it?”
“I’d rather not have a bunch of insects crawling all over medical supplies, no,” Skitter said, raising her eyebrows. “Don’t worry, it will only take a minute or so.”
I nodded, rolling onto my back as Skitter got out of bed and left the room. I sighed heavily, wondering just what I was doing here. And what here was.
So, Skitter’s bedroom, and presumably one or two other rooms. I sat up as much as I could, looking around.
It was, well, a bedroom. That came as a big surprise to me, obviously. There was the bed, some dressers along one wall, and a bookshelf. That was obviously where the occasional book I found downstairs came from.
There was one door that had to lead to another room, and one that, since it was the kind with slats, had to be a closet. I wondered what was in the other room which also presumably connected to the stairs. A workroom, another living room, or maybe a diorama of the city with only spotlights for her to brood underneath. I really had no idea, and there wasn’t the slightest chance of me getting up to go take a peek. Even if I was untied, even if Skitter wasn’t watching me, that wasn’t going to happen. All I wanted to do was stay underneath the quilt right now.
I could hear Skitter coming back up the stairs and heading towards me. I let myself sink back in the inch or two of give the ropes gave me. I was starting to feel better, the headache receding as the aspirin took hold. My ass was still sore, but that just meant that maybe Skitter would have to spend more time tending to it. Hope could spring eternal!
The door opened a crack, and Skitter slipped through, shutting it behind her. We both smiled at each other. She was carrying a small, plain jar in one hand.
“Right where I left you,” Skitter said, taking far too much humor (i.e., any humor at all) from her joke.
Someone really needed to teach her what was and wasn’t funny. Imp, apparently, was good at making jokes, even if they were crass and crude. You’d think that after a few years, some of that would have rubbed off onto Skitter.
With a grunt of effort, I flipped myself over, landing on my front. I craned my head, looking over my shoulder at Skitter. She softly, calmly smiled back at me, before twitching the quilt aside and revealing me.
“Lift your hands up, Missy,” Skitter said, her own hands already grabbing at my skirt.
I lifted them up as much as I could, showing off my rear, unhidden by anything. I wondered how red I was. I’d taken a look, now and then, with a mirror after a spanking session. My ass ended up pretty red then, and I wondered how much worse it was now that Skitter had used a flogger on me.
But it was also hard to complain too much. It sure had felt good, especially with the dildo sliding in and out of me at the same time. And this was bound to feel good as well. Skitter had such wonderful hands.
“I’m proud of you, by the way,” Skitter said. She sounded so much calmer then she had when I had needed to stop. “You took so much new stuff, and it really looked like you were having fun.”
“I was-oh! I was, ma’am,” I said, gasping as Skitter pressed her fingers against my rear. “And, uh, thanks. I wouldn’t have tried any of this stuff if it wasn’t for you.”
“Ditto,” Skitter said. She sounded like she was smiling. “We’re both opening each other’s horizons, aren’t we?”
We really were. And, frankly, she was opening my eyes in more ways then just how to have sex. Putting aside her being, you know, Skitter, she was also a she. I still wasn’t completely prepared to admit that I was falling in… lust, certainly, no reason to think about it more then that, just falling in lust with another girl.
The thought of Dean flashed through my mind. I sighed, and did my best to push his smiling face to the side. It wasn’t a betrayal of Dean to really like Sk-Taylor. It would be a betrayal of Gallant to like Skitter. But Dean and Taylor? We weren’t dating. We never were going to date, honestly. And it had been years, anyways.
And, a lot more relevantly, Skitter’s fingers felt amazing on my ass. I didn’t know if she was applying burn cream or what, but it felt great. She was slowly rubbing her fingers over every bit of my ass that she had spanked, which meant that she was caressing every inch of my butt. And she was being so gentle. I knew what Skitter’s grip could be like, if she wanted it to be. And this was so much softer and gentler then when she was molesting me.
It wasn’t turning me on. Not really. I was feeling too tired to get aroused. But it still felt nice, like a massage. Which, I supposed, was exactly what it was. Although it wasn’t the kind of massage you could find in a massage parlor.
Strike that, this was Brockton Bay. Of course you could find that. The real challenge would be finding one that didn’t offer a sensual massage as a prelude. It wasn’t the kind of massage that a massage parlor advertised. There, that was better.
There was the possibility that I was feeling light-headed. Would that kind of thought come to me normally? I couldn’t say.
So I did my best to stop thinking and started focusing on Skitter touching my rear. She really was a villain, to be groping a heroine so casually. Although even in my current state, I didn’t think it would be a good idea to share that tidbit of insight with her.
“How is this feeling, Missy?” Skitter asked, slowly rubbing the cream into my skin.
“It feels great, ma’am,” I said, my face half-pressed into the bedsheets. “Thank you.”
“Not at all. It seems I went a bit too hard on you, really. There’s swelling even down on your thighs,” Skitter said, tracing her fingers down along the curve of my rear to my thighs.
I hadn’t even felt that. My attention during the flogging had been entirely taken up with my rear. Both the flogger on my skin and the dildo inside my rear. And who could blame me?
Also, it really did seem that the aspirin was doing a very good job in numbing the pain, because Skitter pressing against the bruises or welts or whatever didn’t hurt nearly as much as it should. Of course, I was sure I’d be feeling it later tonight quite a bit more strongly. Well, it would give me something to remember Skitter by. As if I could easily forget.
Skitter’s hands were brushing right up against the chastity belt. I could feel it being slightly nudged from side to side, with as much give as it had. Not nearly enough to let me or anyone else touch my pussy, but still enough to give me a faint flicker of hope that it could happen.
Skitter kept on touching me, long after I knew she had rubbed the cream into every part of my ass and my thighs. Not that I was complaining. It felt good for her to touch me. Honestly, I wished she would touch me somewhere else, too.
And why not ask her to? It wasn’t as if we were seriously pretending that the punishment was for my own good, to teach me a lesson or anything and that I didn’t get pleasure out of it.
“Skitter?” I asked, craning my neck to look at her. “Could,” I flushed, and barely stopped myself from clamming up. “Could you touch me more? Not just my rear?”
“Of course, Missy,” Skitter said, cleaning her hands off on a towel.
She adjusted herself so that she was sitting on the edge of the bed, her legs hanging off of it. Then she tugged me onto her lap, so that I was half-sprawled across her. My bound hands were pressing against the bottom of her t-shirt. It wouldn’t take much, I thought, to pull it up a bit and touch her bare skin. Maybe later.
I could look at Skitter’s face much more easily in this position. She had a content look on her face as she stared down at me. I wondered if she was turned on, and, if so, if I should offer to get her off. I knew how much she liked… playing with me, after all.
“So, where should I touch my sweet little maid?” Skitter asked, her hands resting on my stomach, pressing down on my uniform.
“Anywhere you want,” I answered, feeling much too embarrassed to actually give details. And anywhere would feel good.
Skitter’s hands slowly worked their way underneath my uniform and the rope bindings. I closed my eyes and shivered, feeling the warmth of her fingers pressing against me. I wondered if she was going to try anything sexual. And if I wanted her to try anything sexy.
“You know, Missy,” Skitter said, “there’s an ancient, let’s say it’s Korean, art to stimulate the growth of breasts. Want me to try it out on you?”
Wow, that didn’t take long. And her lie was so transparent I didn’t even bother to comment on it. I just nodded.
Skitter removed her hands and then slid them back down the top of my uniform. I could feel her long, clever fingers poking at me, removing the vibrators taped to my nipples. The little plastic eggs fell down my blouse, where they’d be a pain to get out later. Oh well, that was a problem for later.
Right now, I could feel Skitter’s hands easily covering my breasts. So easily covering them, in fact, that I fit in about half of her palms. Not the best feeling in the world, at least until she started working. Then it turned into a very good feeling indeed.
“Mmmh,” I muttered, feeling my nipples slowly stiffen underneath Skitter’s continuous, gentle massaging. I was going to have to stop her from doing more to turn me on, but this, right now, was more than alright.
“I’m glad you like it,” Skitter said. She gave me a wide smile, showing plenty of teeth as she looked down at me. “Just keep on laying there.”
“Do I have a choice?” I asked, wiggling a bit against the ropes.
“Of course you do,” Skitter said, still in the same soft tone. “Just say the word, and I’ll get you out from there. Do you want that?”
I quickly shook my head. It was feeling much too good, staying here in Skitter’s lap for me to want to leave. The warmth of her body pressing against me, her hands on my breasts, the control she had over me… No, staying right here was perfect.
Especially because it meant that my ass was both mostly uncovered and sticking out on the air, with nothing pressing against it. I was going to have to cover up eventually, but eventually wasn’t now. I could let Skitter keep on taking care of me. Which was more then enough to make anyone feel good.
Not that I wanted to share Skitter with anyone. She could have Sierra and Charlotte and Tattletale and all the Undersiders (most of them women, come to think of it), but I and only I, should be Skitter’s maid. Because that way I could find out more information, I told myself. Like today, I had discovered, I had discovered…
I had found out that Skitter was making enough spider silk to waste on making ropes for kinky sex games. Yeah, that was important to know about. And I might even find a way to tell someone about it without mentioning how I knew they were for kinky sex games.
I relaxed a bit, feeling assured that my mission here was a complete and utter success. Now all I had to do was endure the supervillain groping me until it was time to leave. What a horrible, horrible trial for me to undergo.
I gasped as Skitter lightly pinched my nipples. It wasn’t very hard, but it was just enough to feel really good. I looked up at her, my eyes resting on her body. She looked, not quite beautiful, but in her element. The graceful curve of her neck, the look of pleasurable concentration on her face, everything about her said how much she was enjoying playing with my body, helping me cool down from the inferno she had built up inside of me.
Although the way she was cooling me down was heating me up. I felt a small flicker of arousal stir to life inside of my lower belly. It was something that was easy to ignore. For now, at least. If she kept on playing with me? Well, I had to say that it was something I thought she could do, get me turned on, bucking my hips in need, and then sending me off to clean.
Wouldn’t that just be awful? Forced to clean and cook and wait on her, feeling the arousal inside of me, and not a thing I could do about it, not with that chastity belt sitting on my hips. And she’d enjoy it, looking at my face.
“What are you thinking about, Missy?” Skitter asked, her face slightly amused as she stared down at me.
“Nothing,” I squeaked, turning red. “Just, uh, I think you’ve done as much for my breasts as you can. Ma’am.”
“Mm, I suppose so,” Skitter said, drawing her hands away from my chest. I sighed in- relief, possibly. “How are you feeling?”
“Well, my rear still hurts, ma’am,” I said, wiggling it a bit. “But it’s a good kind of hurt, you know? It makes me think of you.”
The way Skitter blushed was so cute I completely lost my train of thought. How could someone so intimidating look so amazing like that? I stared upwards, my jaw opening and closing as I tried to remember something, anything else.
“What time is it?” I asked, casting around for something else to focus on.
“Uh,” Skitter craned her head to look at some clock I couldn’t see. “Too damn late. I really need to get back to work. And I suppose you should be getting home. And staying home over the weekend, got it?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said, feeling a bit sad inside. I would have loved to spend more time with Skitter, but I had stuff of my own to do as well. “And, good luck with everything.”
“You’d better wish me luck getting these knots undone,” Skitter said, laughing a bit.
I could feel her fingers picking at my wrists. Just how complex of knots had she made, anyway? Well, I couldn’t look over my shoulder to see, so I would just have to trust in her to figure something out.
“Got it!” Skitter sounded far too happy over managing to undo what she herself had done. The ropes came spilling from my wrists, landing on my back. “And now for the elbows…”
I used what little mobility I had gotten back to tug at the ropes still loosely laced around my wrists. The ropes around my elbows seemed to go a lot faster, and soon I had the use of my arms back.
I brought my arms forward, wincing at the aches and pains and the tingling sensation spreading through them. Weren’t there risks to spending too long tied up? I vaguely remembered some PRT class about bindings cutting off circulation. Well, I could still move my fingers and feel stuff through them, so it obviously hadn’t happened. In fact, I was feeling too much as the blood rushed back through my hands.
“I can get the rest, ma’am,” I said, as Skitter pushed me over (she didn’t need to add the grunt of effort, in my opinion.)
“You sure?” Skitter asked, sounding unsure. “Here, I’ll at least get down around your ankles.”
With the two of us working together, I was quickly freed from the rope. It felt kind of good to be able to move my body again, lifting my arms above my head and spreading my legs. Not that I was opposed to doing something with the ropes again, though.
“Here, I’ll walk you downstairs,” Skitter said, offering her arms.
I gladly took it. I was still feeling a touch unsteady. And getting to press my body closely against Skitter’s was hardly a bad thing.
She helped down to the second floor, the room that I thought of as the ‘main’ room. To my surprise, the bag I had put my street clothes into was there, sitting on the floor. She must have grabbed it when she went for the cream.
“Thank you, ma’am,” I said. “Um, I’ll need the key,” I added, tapping the top of the chastity belt still wrapped around my waist.
“Are you sure you need it?” Skitter asked, smiling slightly as she dug into a pocket. “I could easily see you spending a day locked up. And,” her eyes brightened as a thought came to her, “I could tie you up as well. You’d get to feel that soft rope rubbing against your bare skin for hours and hours. Nobody would know but the two of us. Wouldn’t that be fun?”
I paused, half-in and half out of my maid costume. That… that did sound interesting, at least. A secret for just the two of us, as I went to school. It would have to be on a non-Ward day, but otherwise…
“Maybe later,” I said, my face turning red as I thought about it. “I don’t, I don’t think that would be a good idea right now.”
“You’re probably right,” Skitter said easily, taking the small metal key out.
She unlocked the belt, and it fell to the ground with a thud. Then she stepped back, looking at my naked body. I blushed, staring at her feet. I wasn’t the most developed girl, and every week that went by made me lose hope of ever getting tall let alone boobs or hips. But Skitter still wanted me. (And, hopefully, not because I didn’t have breasts or hips.)
“I really should get home, ma’am,” I said, opening up the bag and taking my clothes out of it. And what do you know? My panties were still in there and hadn’t pulled a disappearing act.
So, for that matter, was the case I had slipped the butt plug in. I left the case right where it was. There was no way I was going to slide that toy inside of me, not with Skitter right there. That would be way too embarrassing. I also noticed that there were still indentations on my wrists from the rope. I hoped nobody would ask about those.
“I hope you stay safe on your way back home,” Skitter said. “And during the weekend.”
She was really worried about that, wasn’t she? That was nice of her. I wouldn’t be staying safe, obviously, but at least I could let her think I would be.
“Of course, ma’am,” I said, struggling into my clothes. “And I hope you do as well.”
I laced up my shoes and looked up at Skitter. She was looking down at me, the light glinting off of her glasses. She looked good like that. Puberty had barely been kinder to her then to me, but there was still something about the way that she held herself…
Almost before I knew what I was doing, and long before I could talk myself out of it, I took a quick step forward and leaned up. It was a bit of a struggle, but I just managed to plant a kiss on Skitter’s lips. It didn’t last long, maybe a second at most. But it was still a kiss.
Skitter made a startled noise, and I could half see, half feel her arms coming up to hug me before stopping. I had my own eyes closed, so there was no way to see the expression on her face. And I wasn’t sure I wanted to.
And after that, I pulled my head back, turned around, and left the room at a speed that was just short of a run. My face felt redder then my butt. I had just kissed Skitter. I had just kissed Skitter again. And it still felt good.
As I went down the stairs, I kept my ears peeled for Skitter’s voice. Calling me back or telling me to stop or to do something, I had no idea what. And I had no idea what I would do if she ordered me to do something. I wasn’t exactly in the habit of telling her no, after all.
But she didn’t. I didn’t hear a sound from her as I left her lair, stepping out into the cold air and the setting sun. My face still burning, and my legs still kind of unsteady, I headed for home.
And as I went, I knew I had plenty to think about. Like if we were going to be meeting up over the weekend regardless of what Skitter thought. And if we did, I was going to have to keep a close watch over what I said. Saying anything would be risky enough. But I certainly didn’t want to accidently call her ‘ma’am’ while staring at that black and grey costume I had gotten so used to.
That would be… embarrassing.
|
The hospital suggests a wheelchair when Noir is released. He politely declines the offer, as wheelchairs and Noir do not have a friendly history together.
Peter and Porker are there for him in the waiting room, their arms full with medicine and his belongings, and he accepts the three-way-hug they awkwardly maneuver into.
After that oddly comforting display, he follows them outside slowly, using Peter’s side as his crutch. Walking is still a difficult task, surprisingly.
A scarf is thrown around his neck by Peter before his possessions are dumped into his arms. Noir fumbles, eyes wide and questioning.
“Ham’s gonna take you home,” Peter says, patting his shoulder. Noir stands dumbfounded, struggling to hold everything.
“Home?”
“Yes, home!” Ham hops onto Noir’s shoulder, causing him to stagger. “I promised to take you to my dimension, didn’t I?”
“Yes, you did, but…” Noir trails off. But what about Aunt May? The people of his dimension? His job?
Porker opens a portal before he can voice his mind, and Peter shoots them a thumbs up before they’re pushed through. Noir falls into a soft bed, his possessions scattering, and he groans. Ham lands a foot away, far more gracefully, and snorts.
“Welcome to paradise!” the pig sing-songs, humming an out of pitch tune as he collects Noir’s belongings, placing them beside the bed in a tidy manner.
The man watches, dazed, as Ham trots around him. It’s much too quick of a development for Noir to follow at the moment, the whiplash of inter dimensional travel on top of his condition mixing into a bitter cocktail. Is time speeding forward, or is he delirious?
“Think I’m gonna puke,” he moans, shoving his face into the sheets. They smell like pig, which doesn’t help.
“Please don’t! Say, it’s still pretty early, do you wanna go out for breakfast?” Ham dusts off his hands at a job well done, then hops onto Noir’s lower back. The man clenches his teeth in pain, hissing. Porker snakes his hands under his shirt, up his back, his touch an unpleasant heat. Noir, out of breath, wheezes.
“Peter, please.”
Ham giggles, crawling up his back, his hooves sharp against sensitive skin, each prod hurting more than the last. Sirens ring in Noir’s ears. Is he going insane, or is Ham torturing him?
“Ooh, begging already, Petey?”
Noir growls, weak and agitated.
“Peter,
please
.”
Continued prodding, unwelcomed heat.
“Yes, babe?”
Stop.
We’re not in the mood for goofing off.
Noir’s teeth bare in a snarl. He rolls, quick, throwing Ham off from atop his back, earning a startled yell from the pig as he tumbles off the bed. Noir stumbles, hand grabbing the wall for stability, a bead of cold sweat rolling down his temple. Ham sits on the floor, nursing a bump on his head, hissing.
“Okay, ouch. What was that for?!”
He rubs his noggin, squinting up at the man who leans heavily against the wall. Noir watches the floor, teeth chattering.
“I’m going to take a shower. Where’s your bathroom?”
Ham blinks and shakes his head to clear away the pain, his brow furrowed. Noir can feel himself being studied as he stands here, out of breath and short on patience.
The pig stands, brushing off his knees, and waddles past Noir, taking his hand and leading him out the door.
“You wouldn’t fit into my shower, but we do have a tub. Come on, I’ll draw you a bubble bath.”
Noir allows himself to be led, feeling a bit claustrophobic under the low ceilings, having to slouch just to walk through the halls.
He wants to go home.
Porker sits him on a stool as he readies the bath, back turned to him and silent as he works. Noir just focuses on breathing. This will be over soon; just a bath, maybe some breakfast, and then back to his dimension. Aunt May will still be there, alive, and waiting with open arms.
Inhale.
Exhale.
“Alright, it’s ready,” Ham says, turning. His eyes don’t meet Noir’s. “I can join you, if you want?”
Does he want? No, not really, but he also
really
doesn’t want to break Ham’s heart, so he silently nods. The pig assists in stripping him, turning an eye to grant Noir some privacy when he lowers himself into the tub with shaky arms. The bubbles offer him some modesty, and the water is the perfect temperature, so Noir allows himself to relax and enjoy the feeling. Ham climbs in after him, sighing as he sinks into the foam and onto Noir’s stomach.
As usual, one of his hands find their way behind Ham’s ears, scratching at a slow, melodic rhythm. The pig watches him through glazed eyes, even sporting light bags of his own.
“I’m sorry,” they say in unison, then pause at the simultaneous confession. Tired smiles crack on their faces. Noir clears his throat, rubbing the bridge of his nose under his glasses.
“I’m sorry, uh, for snapping. It’s just not the
time for me to be slacking off right now.” Noir sinks deeper into the bath, water pooling past his shoulders, sighing.
“I think it’s the perfect time for
recovering
, actually. What you need right now is rest in a proper bed,” Ham says.
Noir huffs.
“What I need right now is to go home and do my job. There is justice to be administered, innocent civilians to save, Nazis to fight. Aunt May—“
“Is
fine.
Petey, baby, do you really think we’d let you take two weeks off without covering for you? I’ve punched more Nazis this week than I ever have in my
life.”
The man frowns, his petting paused.
“You… you’ve been—“
“Yes, we’ve been looking out for you.” Ham scoots up, smiling past his snout. “In case you haven’t noticed yet, we love you.”
Noir’s heart beats, but not for the reason Ham probably expects. He sits up, tendons tightening, his vision blurring.
“They- they,” he stutters, gasping. The water splashes as he grips the sides of the tub, struggling to stay afloat. Ham yelps, hopping off his chest and into the tub by his feet.
“Peter?”
No no no no no.
“
They know you exist?
” he gasps.
Oh God. No. Not again.
It’s going to happen again.
He’s going to lose them all. He’s going to lose the love of his life again. He’s going to be alone again.
“Peter, hey, it’s okay.”
Ham is right there, but his voice is already so far away. Is he losing him already? So soon?
This is why you do your job, Peter.
“Please, no,” he cries, fingernails dragged across his clenched eyes. He is exposed in every way. Too weak. Too selfish. Too irresponsible. This is his true self.
This is your true self.
“Get a grip, man!”
There’s a loud
smack!
that reverbs against the walls, echoes in the sudden silence. Out of the corner of his eye, Noir is sure he saw the word physically manifest.
Did he just get slapped?
Shaky fingers reach up to touch a stinging cheek. Ham stands on his chest, covered in bubbles and glaring down at him. Noir blinks.
“Did you just slap me?” he asks.
The pig sighs, all tension in his body draining in an instant. His ears flop down, snout drooping.
“Yes,” He activates his puppy eyes. “Did it help? Usually a slap in my universe does wonders to clear the mind— that and your sinuses.”
Did it help? Well, it certainly saved him from an unwinding path. Didn’t do much good otherwise.
“I suppose it’ll have to do. Sorry I- I don’t know why that keeps happening.”
His iron grip on the tub loosens as he makes the conscious effort to relax, sink lower. Ham slides back down to his stomach, eyes big and worried.
“Do you want me to wash your hair?” his partner friend asks, tone hushed. Noir nods and pets Ham’s head.
“In a moment.”
Porker watches him with large, concerned eyes as he soaks, small hands pinching and prodding at his skin in an anxious manner.
The man wakes later, damp and cold.
At first, Noir believes he has woken from another nightmare, and that he is still in the hospital. He is dry, for the most part, covered in a thin sheet of sweat. It is only a second before he realizes that
no
, he is not in a small cot and hooked to an IV, he is actually lying half naked in a small bed with a pig under his arm.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Where are you? Are you safe? Is he okay?
Noir groans and wipes his face, flinching at the stinging of his eyes.
Ham stirs next to him, groggy for a brief moment before snapping awake and to attention.
“Pete?” He asks, tiny paws holding his face, turning him by the cheek to inspect him. Noir hums, leaning into the touch, utterly exhausted. “Oh thank goodness.”
Ham hugs him tight. Noir lies unmoving, still unaware as to why he was here, or why any of this was happening.
“You dozed off while I was conditioning and wouldn’t wake up. I didn’t know if you just fell asleep or… or…“
“Hey, hey,” Noir shushes him, nuzzling his nose into the pig’s cheek. Ham sniffles but does not move.
“I thought you…”
“It’s okay. I’m okay.”
Eventually, Ham slides off of him, his fur a mess and eyes glazed with the remains of unfallen tears.
Ham leaves to prepare Noir a meal but not after confirming about a hundred times that Noir was in fact
fine
to be left alone for ten minutes, and that
yes
he would stay in bed and not move an inch. Noir does just that.
While his boyfriend busies himself elsewhere, he attempts to understand just what in the blazes is going on.
What happened?
Oh, and the pretty boy rises. Feeling better, sunshine?
Buzz off with that.
What? Not in the mood for comedy? I was under the assumption you loved it.
…
Oh, woe is me, for I have insulted the coward.
I’m not…
Yes, you are, and you know it, boy.
I know.
You fell asleep, if that’s what you’re wondering.
That’s all? Really?
Yes. Your body still needs to recover, but it is proving to be a struggle since it has no assistance from the mind.
Oh. Guess I should work on that.
“Okay, I brought you egg creams. I know you like those. And some oranges, peaches, and bacon— of the turkey variant. Also, one piece of toast if you feel up for it,” Ham announces as he walks into the room, a tray of food balanced in his hands. He climbs onto the bed, careful not to spill drink or disturb Noir.
“There’s also a change of clothes in my dresser if you want to put something on. Sorry for leaving you naked, I was panicking and kind of distracted by how sexy you are even when half-comatose. Human bodies are so interesting. You only have two nipples!”
Noir accepts the tray of food and places it on his lap, acknowledging Ham’s explanation with a tired smile. The pig sits at his side, cheerful and encouraging, unaware of the inner conversation Noir’s just had. He eats the breakfast before him, nursing the egg creams (made correctly this time) and fruit slices at a steady pace. Stopping for a moment, he inspects a slice of the ‘orange’ on his fork, Ham’s left ear flopping as his head turns.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing I… what did you say this was?”
Ham sniffs, “An orange? Why, do you not—? Oh. Oh!”
The pig bursts into laughter, small hooves kicking out as his head falls back. Noir chuckles, lost, and places the familiar tasting fruit in his mouth. Ham cackles for seconds more, holding his gut and gasping for breath, falling into Noir’ side.
“It’s- it’s an
orange.
That’s a fruit.”
“I
know
what an orange is. Is it not just a fruit? I’ve heard Miles mention the word before in a lesson, just never questioned why he was jabberin’ about food all of a sudden.”
“No! It’s a color, too. I mean,
I
can hardly see it, but it’s a mix of red and yellow. And look—“ he holds up a peach slice, “This is pink. Peachy pink! It’s a lighter shade of red with a
tint
of orange.”
Noir nods. So oranges were… orange
,
huh.
“They named a color after a fruit.”
Ham sighs, snuggling into his ribs. “Or did they name the fruit after the color? Hey, do you have kiwi in your dimension?”
Noir perks an eyebrow, sliding his arm under and around the pig, fingers resting on his chest and brushing the patch of fur. Ham melts into the touch, small paws tracing the wrinkles and scars on Noir’s hand.
“Yes, why?”
“Miles doesn’t have kiwi in his dimension. Oh, and Gwen doesn’t have strawberries! Can you imagine that? An entire fruit just
missing
? Makes you wonder what
we’re
missing, you know?”
Noir hums in agreement, mouth full of chocolate. The egg creams were actually delicious, this time, and the taste aids in calming his nerves.
“List off some fruit, let’s see what you’re missing,” he suggests. Ham taps his chin in thought.
“Let’s see. Apples, lemons, limes, grapes, pineapples, tomatoes, carrots—“
“Carrots?” Noir coughs, almost comically choking on a chunk of bacon. He pounds his chest, hacking and gulping. “
Carrots?!”
He repeats, staring at Ham in disbelief.
“You don’t have Carrots?”
“Yes, I do. But they’re not a fruit.”
Ham barks, his head snapping up in offense.
“They are, too!”
“No they aren’t! You’re bullshitting me!”
“A fruit is anything that has seeds right? Carrots are fruits! What are they in
your
dimension?”
Noir grins, baffled, his laugh tilted as he answers. “Vegetables!”
Both spiders wheeze, leaning into each other, foreheads bumping together. Their laughter melts into soft chuckles, then intimate silence, their eyes opening and meeting in a daze.
“Can I kiss you?”
Noir chokes.
“
What
?!”
Determination flares in Ham’s eyes.
“Can I kiss you? On the mouth? Right now?” He reiterates. His snout is pressed against Noir’s nose, hot puffs of breath hitting his eyes and fogging his glasses. It’s extremely uncomfortable and not ideal in the least, yet his mouth parts of its own will nonetheless.
Everything around them stands still. The clock hanging on Ham’s wall pauses it’s ticking. His heart even stops briefly. Time itself gives them a moment.
It’s a feeling Noir has forgotten.
How does a man even kiss his cartoon pig boyfriend, anyways?
“Yeah, uh- yes, you can, if you can figure it out,” he whispers, bottom lip trembling in anticipation.
Ham closes his eyes, sighing in relief, his own hands shaking as they navigate from Noir’s chest to up his throat, over his sharp unshaven jaw, and onto his cheeks. Ham tilts Noir’s head to the right, turning his own to the left, and then he’s pulled closer, gently.
It’s not the passionate, rough kiss Noir was expecting their first to be; it is delicate.
Ham quivers beside him, extremely nervous, the opposite of his usual self. His lips are smooth against Noir’s own chapped ones, soft flesh scraping a stubbled chin.
His features rest and he exhales through his nose, hand sliding up to cup the pig’s cheek, urging him to deepen the kiss.
Ham sighs, grip growing confident, and responds positively to Noir’s reciprocation. They both hum in delight. Behind his eyelids, Noir sees explosions of pink and he tastes orange.
Seconds last for years as they kiss, hands exploring one another, grabbing and feeling. Ham ends up underneath him, the tray of food pushed aside and forgotten, and Noir pins the pig down with his calloused hands, fingers hooking under his shorts and into his hair. They separate briefly, just a fraction of a moment to gauge each other’s reactions, then meet again halfway, this time much more needingly.
“I love you,” Noir whispers between breaths, ignoring the angered screeching in his head. He kisses Ham’s neck, then his ears, forehead, cheeks, hooves, belly. “I love you, you stupid pig.”
He nuzzles his nose into his boyfriend’s neck, grinning before blowing a raspberry into it. Porker giggles, weakly struggling to push Noir away. He continues the assault downwards until reaching Ham’s stomach, where he takes a deep breath and blows as hard as he can. Porker howls, kicking his hooves and laughing, tears flying from his eyes.
“Babe, babe, stop!! I can’t- hah- I can’t breathe!” he cackles, cries, a grin splitting his face, stretching from ear to ear.
Noir smiles cheekily and lets up on the torture, lowering himself down into his own stomach and resting his chin on Ham’s chest. Oh, how the tables have turned.
“That’s for all the times you called me unfunny,” he purrs.
Ham pants, comes down from his hysterical high, and snorts wetly. The pig wipes his tears away, shifting under Noir to make himself a more comfortable pillow.
“B-because you’re not,” he struggles to say, completely out of breath. Noir hums, arms crossed under Ham’s head in front of him, his cheek smushed into the pig’s belly.
“I love you,
Peter
,” Noir says. Ham’s cheeks darken, ears perking up.
“So formal…” he mumbles, fingers tapping together. Noir hums against, shifting closer, eyes lazy. He notes the pig’s hesitance, his anxiousness, yet it does not bother him. Ham covers his face with both hands, his grin large and embarrassed.
“I love you, too! Ah!!” he yells, squealing. It’s adorable, simply put, and earns the pig another quick kiss. Noir realizes, with a surge of excitement, that this is something he can do now; kiss his lover at any time that sees fit.
“I love you, Porker.”
A kiss.
“I know! I know!”
Another kiss.
“You’re spoiling me sweet, Pete! Let a pig gather his bears, would ya?”
Noir rolls off of Ham, back to his side of the bed, grinning like a madman.
“I’m not sure that’s how the phrase goes.”
“Shut up! You don’t know that!”
He laughs wholeheartedly. It’s a noise he hasn’t made in quite some time. His cheeks burn pleasantly.
“Do you want to watch a movie?” Ham asks, rolling into his side so he can latch onto Noir’s arm.
“That sounds dandy. Do you have any Disney movies?”
“Ew, no, I
hate
Disney— those rat bastards. How about Who Framed Roger Rabbit?”
“I don’t know what that is, but okay.”
“I have a feeling you’ll love it.”
|
“You look like hell.”
“Love you too, Bones.” Jim plopped down heavily on Bones’ couch in his quarters. They’d agreed to meet there because it would simply take the crew longer to find Jim. When Jim was in his quarters, it seemed everyone thought they could just come by any old time. Which yeah, Jim didn’t mind usually. He was the captain and he did have an open door policy. But right then? He didn’t want to deal with…well…anything. Probably made him a bad captain.
“Why does it look like you got no sleep again? Do I need to start hypoing you nightly?”
Jim leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “You’re welcome to try it.”
Bones sucked in a breath. “Now I am worried. Jim—”
“You got anything to drink? Something hard.” He lifted his head, blue eyes blazing.
“Yeah, I do.” Bones went to a cabinet that had two wooden doors that opened out. He removed a bottle and two glasses. He didn’t comment further until he had poured a couple of glasses of good Southern Bourbon. He walked over to the couch, handed one to Jim, and then sat beside him. “That bad, huh?”
“It’s been a rotten few days, Bones.” Jim rubbed his eyes then took a swallow of his drink.
“Yeah,” Bones acknowledged. “You’ve handled it well though, Jim. No one could have done it better.”
“Maybe. Not even Spock?”
“Especially not Spock.”
Jim nodded, looked down into his drink. “I sometimes wonder if I’ll ever feel warm again.”
“Want to talk about it?”
He shook his head. “No. Sort of. It’s just…no matter how hot I put the temperature up in my quarters I still feel like a block of damn ice.” Jim licked his lips. “Can I sleep in here with you tonight?”
“Sure. You never have to ask. You’re always welcome.” Bones squeezed his knee. “Maybe it’s time for another one of your pranks?’
“I’m really not in the pranking mood right now. Let someone else do it.” Jim took another drink, let it burn down his throat. “I saw them fucking together you know.”
Bones stared at him for a while. Then he shook his head. “Did you actually see them fucking?”
“No. God. Don’t put that image in my damn head, will you? I’ve already imagined it plenty.” Jim grimaced. “I saw him going into her quarters and she kissed him as he went in.”
“You know they’re together, Jim,” Bones said quietly. “They’ve been together the entire time you’ve known them.”
“Yes. Normally…I handle it. This week has been anything but normal.” He drained his drink and stood, walking over to where Bones had left the bottle.
“Let’s get dinner.”
Jim nodded. “Sure. Pasta with meat sauce, okay?”
“Sure.” Bones went to the replicator. He came back to the couch with two plates of pasta with meat sauce. He handed one to Jim who had returned with his refilled drink.
They ate in silence though Jim was aware of Bones watching him the entire time.
When he had nearly finished, Jim sighed. “What?”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“I know.” He did. It didn’t make it any easier though. And some part of him thought it was always his fault. Too much of Frank’s voice in his head, ‘You never do anything right’.
Anyway no amount of knowing deep down it hadn’t been his fault, there really was nothing he could have done to change the outcome, didn’t thaw the chill that stuck to his bones like icicles hanging from eaves.
He set his plate down on the table. “That was good. You’re a good cook, Bones.”
Bones smiled. “He does really care about you, you know.”
“Who?” Jim leaned back to sip the bourbon.
“Spock.”
“Oh.” Jim nodded. “I know. ‘Because you are my friend’ “I have been and always shall be your friend’. Believe me, Bones, I get it. I know.”
“Not sure you do, Jim. I don’t think Vulcans make friends easily. Least ways Spock doesn’t. He helped me with you the other night when I hypoed you.”
“He did?”
“Who do you think got you ready for bed?”
“You?”
Bones snorted. “I had better things to do. Spock.”
“Great. Now he’s seen my naked bod.”
“I’m sure he managed to keep down his dinner.”
“Thanks.” Jim scowled.
But Bones laughed. “The point is, he cares about you. A lot. He may be a stupid green-blooded pointy-eared bastard with delusions of grandeur but his affection for you is real and unmatched.”
Jim smiled slightly. “”Can I take a shower?”
“Knock yourself out. Wait. Scratch that. Knowing you, you’ll think of that as permission to do exactly that. Just go take a shower.”
Jim rose then waggled his eyebrows. “Wanna join me?”
“You wish.”
Jim gave him a smile or at least he thought he did and went into Bones’ bathroom. He took a water shower, turning the hot water up high so that it scalded his skin, but not even that worked and after a while he stood under the hot water spray shivering, letting his tears of anguish fall down his face unchecked.
****
Spock was headed down the corridor before his shift when he saw the door of Dr. McCoy’s quarters opening. Expecting the doctor to emerge, Spock’s steps faltered when it was the captain.
“Morning, Spock.”
“Captain?”
“Are you asking if I’m the captain?”
Spock recognized Jim was attempting to tease. He was not in the mood for it. “Did you spend the night with Dr. McCoy?”
“Hmm?” Jim’s brows furrowed for a moment. “Yes. I did.”
“Was there-there something preventing you from utilizing your own?’
Jim smiled quizzically, his tongue darting out to trace his lips. “Nope. I just felt like being with Bones.” He tilted his heads. “Friends with benefits.” And then he winked, heading down the corridor.
Spock headed to Nyota’s quarters. She opened the door immediately, dressed for her shift, and greeted him with her usual kiss.
Then she pulled back. “What’s wrong?”
“I believe that Jim and Dr. McCoy are sleeping together.”
“Sleeping together?”
“Yes. I just came across the captain departing the doctor’s quarters.”
“Oh. Well. I’m sure there’s some other logical explanation. They’re just friends, Spock.”
He shook his head. “I thought so but Jim confirmed it himself.”
Nyota looked shocked. “What?”
“He said they were friends with benefits.” Spock tried to keep the dismay out of his voice but he did not think he succeeded.
“Are you sure that’s what he said?”
“Yes.” Spock turned on his heels. “I must confront the doctor.”
“What? Wait. Spock, are you sure that’s what you want to do?”
“Yes.”
****
“Doctor, a word.”
McCoy looked up from attending a burn on the hand of one of Mr. Scott’s assistants. “Wait in my office. I’ll be there in a minute.”
Spock went to the doctor’s office and tried to curb his impatience.
“All right, Spock, what’s up?”
“I have come to discuss the captain.”
“Jim?”
“Is there another Captain?”
McCoy smirked and sat behind his desk. “Sassy today. What about him?”
“I am aware of your intimate relationship and I—”
“Our what now?”
Spock straightened, clenched his hands behind his back. “He spent the night with you.”
“Sit down, Spock. You’re driving me to drink with your hovering.”
Spock hesitated, but then reluctantly sat.
The doctor steepled his fingers together. “Yeah, Jim stayed with me last night.”
Spock blew out a breath. “Then it is true.”
“What’s true?”
“You are sleeping together.”
“Well. Sure. Last night.”
“May I ask why?”
McCoy sighed heavily. “Tea?”
“No.”
McCoy turned to his replicator and ordered himself a coffee. “Jim’s really wrecked right now.”
“I am aware of that,” Spock said softly.
“That’s why he stayed with me last night.”
“Then you took advantage of his vulnerability.”
“I what?” McCoy sputtered. “He was in a bad way. He’s taking the recent events particularly hard. He didn’t want to be in his quarters where pretty much no one leaves him alone. And I can’t blame him.”
“But to engage in sexual relations—”
“Whoa. What? Nothing like that, Spock.”
“But the captain said otherwise.”
“Jim did?”
“Once again I must remind you that there is no other captain,” Spock said sharply.
“You’re here in my office, Spock. You’d think you wouldn’t sass me. I don’t know what Jim told you, but Jim slept in my quarters. Slept only.”
“The captain said you were friends with benefits.”
McCoy rolled his eyes. “He was just joking with you, Spock.”
“I do not find it humorous.”
“Jim has an odd sense of humor. Trust me, Spock, there is nothing sexual between us.”
Spock did trust McCoy. “Very well.”
“Honestly, though, why do you care so much? Aren’t you with Uhura?”
“Nyota and I ended the romantic aspects of our relationship some time ago.”
McCoy stared at him in surprise. “You did? How come no one knows?”
“We both felt it prudent not to subject ourselves to the spectacle of a breakup.”
“Well. You seem pretty cozy.”
“We are friends only. Just as you and Jim are.”
“Okay.” McCoy nodded. “Jim’s having trouble dealing with this, Spock. He needed a friend last night and so he came to me. That’s all there was.”
Spock stood. “Thank you, doctor.”
****
When Spock stepped onto the bridge Jim did not turn to look at him from the captain’s chair as he usually did. His gaze stayed focused on the viewing screen as if the stars themselves held the answers to what ailed him.
Spock made his way to his science station. During his shift he noted Jim’s gaze only strayed from the screen to look at the PADD he had clutched too tightly in his hands. His fingers were white from gripping it. The lines around his eyes and mouth were taut with recognizable stress.
He never once looked around the bridge, which was most definitely his habit. But now, his gaze never went to another station on the bridge. Not once. Spock knew it was quite deliberate.
Half way through, Jim asked in a very clear, unwavering voice that was deceptive in its strength. “Status report, Mr. Sulu?” He didn’t look in the helmsman’s direction.
“Steady at warp two, Captain. We should reach the space station in forty-two hours with maintained speed,” Sulu replied, his tone equally calm and professional though Spock noticed the tremble in Sulu’s fingers.
“Thank you, Lieutenant.”
When the shift was over, Jim got up stiffly, his gaze still carefully averted from looking anywhere but where it was necessary to make it to the turbolift. Spock followed in after him.
Jim glanced at him. The corners of his mouth lifted very slightly. “Hey.”
Spock pulled the lever to stop the turbolift. Jim’s eyes widened.
“What are you doing?” Jim asked.
“Captain, I admit to not knowing all the nuances of offering comfort to humans.” Spock paused, gathering his thoughts. “But I do believe that many humans will accept embraces during times of grief?”
Jim visibly swallowed. “Yeah, some do appreciate hugs.”
Spock took a step closer to him, noting the very subtle change in the hitch of Jim’s breath, the darkening of the blue of his irises. “And you? Are you one such human?”
“Not-not usually,” Jim admitted. “But if you’re offering, Mr. Spock, I’ll accept.”
And now that he was faced with putting his arms around Jim, Spock found himself hesitating. Not altogether sure the offer had been a good idea.
Jim must have seen something in Spock’s face, for he gave a somewhat wry smile. “You don’t have to, Spock. It’s okay.”
But it was not okay. Spock would do anything for Jim. Anything for his t’hy’la. Even hold him when he had no real right to do so. But they were friends and friends sometimes hugged.
He took an even closer step to Jim and wrapped his arms around his captain, pulling him against Spock’s chest.
For about thirty seconds, Jim stood stiff in his arms, and Spock began to pull away thinking the embrace had been unwelcome after all.
But then Jim sagged against him, his arms coming around Spock’s back.
“You are cold,” Spock whispered, realizing his captain felt like a block of ice in his arms.
“Yeah,” Jim whispered, his voice a shaky gasp. “I don’t think I can get warm again.”
Spock felt a pain in his heart. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against Jim’s.
“I’m fine, you know,” Jim said.
“I know,” Spock agreed, because he saw no other choice. “I grieve with thee.”
Jim nodded. His hand clutched Spock’s uniform shirt, his fingers twisting tightly.
The whistle of the comm.
“Captain, is everything all right? Your turbolift seems to be stuck, sir.”
Jim pulled out of Spock’s arms, with a shake of his head, and a sad smile, though Spock did not fail to notice Jim’s eyes were dry, as though he would not let himself cry. Not in front of anyone.
Jim hit the comm. “No, Hendorff. Everything’s fine.” He pulled the lever to send the turbolift into motion once more.
Spock wanted to follow Jim into his quarters, but he did not. He went to his own and gave strict orders that the captain was not to be disturbed.
When he was certain, or felt he was, that Jim had fallen asleep, Spock went into Jim’s quarters from their shared bathroom. He brought with him four warming blankets which he tucked around his sleeping captain.
Then Spock touched his fingers to Jim’s forehead. Warmth. He projected it as best he could, hoping to wrap his t’hy’la in as much comfort and security as he could.
He had to move his hand off Jim’s skin eventually, regretfully. But he did not return to his own room. Instead he went to sit at Jim’s desk, deciding he would stay with Jim for the night, leaving before his captain woke so it would not become awkward. But last night McCoy had been allowed to comfort Jim and so Spock intended to do so tonight, as much as he could manage and would be allowed to do.
As he watched Jim sleep, restless, Spock could not help but wonder if his staying was for Jim’s benefit or his own. |
Disclaimer:
This story deals with interracial sex, Cuckolding, controlling, and impregnation. Please do not continue if any of these subjects offend you. This is a work of fiction, meant to be enjoyed. Please click back if this does not suit your style. I am not a William Shakespeare or Ernest Hemingway. It is just another black stud and white wife story. They are free, so don't expect a literary masterpiece. All negative anonymous comments will be deleted.
Kwame was having a Christmas party at his house over the weekend. Kwame invited most of his prominent clients. There were 12 single guys and 5 couples who joined the party. All of the single men were black. Kwame invited Karen and Veronica hopefully for some late night fun.
Most of the guys had centered themselves around the bar. As the liquor flowed the conversation turned raunchy as the guys started talking about their latest conquests and boasted about who was the best ladies man.
The house was decorated in an elaborated Christmas style with a huge tree fully decorated and Christmas lights all around the house making the house very bright. There were 5 bunches of mistletoes stuck up around the house to finish off the festive decorations.
In the beginning; only couples ventured under the mistletoe so that they could kiss without anybody cheering or making noise. As the evening moved forward and the liquor did its job it seemed that more and more of the single guys would stay close to the mistletoe in case a stray girl would walk by. Some were caught on their way to the bathroom, but mostly it was a quick peck as the girls did not want to make their spouses mad.
As the night wore on it seemed that Veronica and Karen, were being tailed and every time they came close to a mistletoe one of the guys would grab them for a quick kiss. The more times that they caught them the longer the kisses seemed to be getting.
Cedric, one of the youngest at the party, seemed to be by mistletoe whenever Veronica walked under one. The first couple of kisses they just barely touched lips, but Cedric seemed to get brasher with each kiss. The sixth or seventh kiss seemed to last for several seconds and after that he seemed to take her in his arms and made more of a production out of it. Tight embraces and kisses that lasted longer than 40 seconds, most all with tongue swapping were becoming the norm.
Veronica would always laugh and make a swooning sound like she was being swept off her feet by the attention. The more that she drank the less that she cared and almost seemed to enjoy the attention and the moves they were putting on her. This seemed to get the other guys attention as more and more of the guys that caught her under the mistletoe were taking longer and longer kisses and they always included tongue action.
Over the next hour, Cedric must have kissed Veronica a dozen times or more. Each time his tongue seemed to be searching for the back of her mouth and his hands roamed more and more. At first it was just to pull her tighter, then it went to putting his hands on her ass and then it seemed that every time they broke from kissing he would make sure that his hands would run down across her tits. Veronica never said anything to him, but would quickly move away from him as soon as the kiss broke off so that he would not go in for a second kiss.
By midnight all the couples and some of the guys had left and it got to where only eight single guys, Karen and Veronica remained. The guys were getting a little drunk and rowdy and Cedric was making no bones about staying as long as Veronica was willing to let him kiss her. He was following her around the house in hopes of catching her under mistletoe and would grab her if she even got close. Everyone was having a good time laughing at Cedric's obvious advances toward Veronica.
It got to be a game to see who could catch Veronica under the mistletoe first and each time they would make a big production out of the kiss. The guys were busy with their tongues, running their hands around her ass and making the kisses last longer and longer. Everyone would laugh and laugh when the kiss would end and Veronica would always run to the bar to get another drink as she was saying that all the kissing was making her mouth dry.
Veronica is not a big drinker, so this did just the opposite to her inhibitions as she was feeling no pain. Cedric finally caught her walking back from the bathroom past the mistletoe and grabbed her arm and swung her around for another kiss. This time as she was being pulled to him, he put his hand up and right on her breast as he pulled her to him. He did not move his hand as he held her close and kissed her for a good 30 seconds. When they broke from their kiss Cedric looked at her to see if she was going to say anything.
When Veronica started to back away without saying anything, Cedric pulled her back into him and started kissing her again. This one seemed to have more lust and his hand wasn't just resting on her breast he seemed to be massaging her tit. His hand moving and opening and closing as it was squeezing her milk gland.
Veronica broke away and said "oh my God; you got a little carried away there didn't you, that was a little more than a friendly little holiday kiss."
From that point on it seemed that every guy that grabbed Veronica or Karen under the mistletoe would find some way to put his hand on their bra fillers to cop a little feel.
Veronica was always pushing a guys hand away as they would try to squeeze or fondle her tits. Karen just let the men grope her as they wish. Every guy there had gotten a hand full at least once as he kissed her during his turn.
Cedric caught Veronica again and while he was kissing her for the umpteenth time he slide his hand under her blouse and had his hand on her breast faster than she could move away. As she tried to move away his hand inside her blouse prevented her from getting too far away and Cedric used his other hand to pull her against him again.
His one hand was getting a good feel of her silk bra covered tit while his mouth was keeping her from saying anything. When they finally broke free from one another Veronica said nothing and just looked at Cedric like she was trying to figure out what he was thinking. Cedric mouth the words "thank you" as Veronica looked at him and then leaned over and kissed her again. Veronica had a deer caught in the headlights kind of look on her as she walked away from him.
As she moved away from Cedric she walked right straight into Marcel that was standing under mistletoe. As Marcel had seen what happened with Cedric he must have figured that he could do the same as he wasted little time in running his hand under her blouse too as he brought her in for a kiss. His hands seemed to be busy as they worked under her blouse. Marcel was much taller than Veronica as this allowed Marcel to bend Veronica's head back as they kissed which made her chest more open to his touch.
When they finished Veronica reached under her blouse to pull her bra back in place as Marcel had pushed her bra aside and gotten a good feel of her bare tits. Everyone there had an instant erection when they noticed that Marcel had been able to feel her bare tits.
The alcohol was clearly having an effect on Veronica as she was having a little trouble walking straight in her heels. Karen asked her what she thought she was doing, flustered from what just happened and giggling with her words beginning to slur she said that she did not want to cause a scene. Karen asked her if she was alright with all the kissing and groping going on and she said that none of them have hurt her and she was having fun.
Cedric and Marcel caught Veronica as she made her way across the room and brought her over to the mistletoe. Cedric started kissing her and Marcel put his hand up her shirt to start playing with her chest. Cedric then put both hands up her blouse again up to grab a handful of her puppies. As they did this, her blouse began to rise to where you could see that they had moved her bra up and out of the way and had their hands working on her sweets tits.
Marcel then leaned down, twisted her swollen teat and took it into his mouth as he let Cedric continue to kiss her and feel up the other speed bump. Veronica struggled to move away, but with both guys holding her she was unable to get out of their grasp. Cedric broke from the kiss only to move his mouth down to take the other protruding nipple into his mouth. You could see his tongue flicking the end of her nipple and then suck it into his mouth.
Veronica was no longer trying to get away and was holding onto the guy's tightly. All that Veronica could say as her mouth was now suddenly free was "oh, oooooh, ooooohhh my."
The two guys continued to assault her tits as their hands started roaming on her body. Cedric then grabbed Veronica's bra and blouse and lifted it over her head and dropped it on the floor. Veronica was now nude from the waist up while 6 guys were rubbing their cocks through their pants watching stunned by the spectacle unfolding in front of them. Veronica was being mauled by two guys sucking on her milk sacks and hands roaming her ass and inner thighs.
Veronica again moaned out as they continued having their way with her. Every guy in the place started to gather around the action and get as good a view as they could. A couple of them began to undress as they watched the assault.
When Cedric and Marcel finally let Veronica go she looked around to see that several guys had gathered around her and noticed that three of them were completely naked with their erect black cocks standing at full attention. The rest of the men were mauling Karen in another room.
Veronica stood there with a bewildered look on her face as she seemed dazed and confused by the activities, with her tits on display for all to see. She became a little startled, but she had a crimson glow from the attention her body just received.
Leroy, who was known for not being bashful was already naked and holding his erect big black cock digit tightly in his hand, said "you are standing there showing us your tits and you have allowed Cedric and Marcel to suck them while we watched and now we are ready for some action.
"You ready slut?"
Veronica replied, "Yes."
Without hesitation Leroy moved forward and pulled Veronica to him, with his big black cock standing straight out poking into her belly button while he held her to make sure she did not back away.
Leroy leaned down took Veronica's nipple into his mouth. Cedric, who had also ditched his clothes, positioned himself down behind Veronica and reached around her and fumbled to undo the tight button on her jeans.
Veronica was squirming, but with Leroy holding her tight and sucking on her tits she could not get her hands free enough to fend Cedric from undoing the button and unzipping her jeans. Once Cedric had unzipped her jeans he exposed her black thong at the front and started tugging Veronica's tight jeans and panties, struggling to get them just off the top of her hips. Cedric didn't give up until a small patch of her brunette beaver fur was extending above of the top of her black thong.
Veronica was enjoying the work on her nipples. Cedric also noticed Veronica adjusted so the guys could get her jeans and panties past her hips and below her knees. Everyone seemed to stop and stare as Veronica was now standing bare ass naked in front of eight horny black guys, with her jeans and panties below her knees wadded just above her shoes.
The group got a great view of the contrast of Veronica's nicely trimmed brunette snatch thatch protruding out from her pale petite body with her swollen meat lips peeking out from below her furry mound, already moist from the attention she had been getting. This brought out a round of cat calls as the guys took in the spectacle occurring in front of them. Before you knew it there were eight naked guys gathered around Veronica with their black cocks at full attention.
Cedric could not even wait to get all of her clothes off as he climbed around her and pulled Veronica to him so he could sink his tongue into her gash. He was using his hands on her ass to push his face tightly into her body. Working feverishly at her pussy as he had his tongue in as far as it would go. He was licking the full length of her slit and flicking at her clit as he reached the top.
Veronica started moaning as Cedric was licking her clit and Leroy was sucking on her tit. Roy moved forward and took her other tit into his mouth as she now had three guys working to bring her pleasure as several others accosted her nether regions from behind. I watched as
Veronica grabbed the back of Cedric's head and tried to push it even further into her pleasure hole as she let out a "right there, right there, oh fuck yeah that's it!"
With hands all over her everyone helped steady Veronica in her drunken state and Cedric helped her lift her legs to remove her shoes and pants. Several guys brought some pillows over and laid her down right in the middle of the living room floor.
Leroy and Roy then continued their assault on her tits and Cedric was able to work her legs apart as he got his tongue further into her furry snatch. They were working her over as the rest of the guys stood around her watching in awe as the rest of the guys continued tugging on their swollen cock.
You could see Veronica's eyes wide open in lust looking from one blue veined throbbing member to another, then she would close her eyes and moan.
Veronica then moaned, "I'm cumming, I'm cumming".
Her eyes rolled back in her head and then open to look around at everyone watching her cum and then closed them tight again as she shuttered and came repeatedly.
Cedric pulled his tongue from her pussy and on his hands and knees moved up between the two guys to take a nipple in his mouth. Leroy and Roy took the cue to move up toward Veronica's head. With Veronica moaning her mouth was opened slightly they took turns rubbing the heads of their black cocks across her wet lips.
Veronica would stick out the tip of her tongue to block Leroy's repeated efforts of trying to get his large black cock head past her lips and into her mouth.
Cedric then lowered his ass until the shaft of his cock was resting against the swollen lips of Veronica's pussy. Then he slowly started moving his pelvis back and forth rubbing the full length of his black meat stick against her white pussy opening her folds as he made his cock nice and wet. Cedric must have found the right spot because Veronica opened her mouth wide to moan and Leroy who had been waiting like a vulture over his prey for the right moment quickly shoved his black cock past her open lips and into her mouth.
Veronica gagged and her eyes opened fully in surprise as Leroy didn't hesitate to pump her mouth with his cock. The other cock working on her clit took over and she closed her eyes again moaning in pleasure around the pile driver abusing her mouth.
Roy and Leroy grappled to take advantage of the opportunity. It was like a contest to see who could shift her head and use Veronica to make mouth music.
Cedric lifted his ass and arched his back to get the head of his cock pressed against Veronica's snatch. He held it there for a moment then pushed forward just enough to open the lips of her female slit, but not actually penetrating her birth canal and then pulled back out so everyone could see her love juices on the tip of his dip stick. Then Cedric slowly put his monster black cock against her white pussy lips and pushed until just the head of his fornicating tool disappeared into her pussy and held it there for a moment.
Veronica was moaning loudly in pleasure around the cocks using her mouth as Cedric pushed the helmet and a little more of his cavity probe into her furry mound with each stroke. Then Cedric slammed his black cock into her belly entrance as deep as he could and just stopped and held it there as Veronica let out a deep groan as she gagged on the cock in her mouth.
Cedric's eyes closed and he said "oh fuck, yeah this feels so fucking good." He started rocking back and forth banging Veronica as the guys watched.
Veronica was yelling "oh God yes, fuck me, fuck me, oh please fuck me hard." "I need your black cock." "I want to feel you deep inside me, fuck me, please fuck me hard."
She started rocking back and forth with him as he sank his black cock all the way in and back out. They worked up a good rhythm as their bodies made a slapping noise while they fucked. Leroy and Roy moved back in and were taking turns working on her tits and rubbing their cocks on Veronica's body and face as she rocked back and forth. The rest of the guys just stood around in a circle jerk watching in awe and having a tug-of-war with their cocks.
Veronica started to moan again, "I'm cumming again."
"I need you to fuck me hard as I cum again."
"Yes oh, oh God yes, she moaned."
She was raising her ass off the floor as Cedric would push his cock all the way in slamming their bodies together violently making a loud clapping sound.
Cedric couldn't take anymore as he tensed up and slammed his sperm dispenser as deep in her cum hole as he could and let out an oh God as he dumped the first load of what would be many that night into her love hole. He laid there between her legs for a couple of minutes with Veronica trying in vain to fuck his wet noodle for her own pleasure, but there was nothing left and he pulled out and rolled off. He just laid there on the floor looking like he had just died and gone to heaven.
With guys hands all over Veronica and Leroy's cock back in her mouth Veronica started using her hands to work on the puffy lips of her clit, gyrating her hips and moaning and it wasn't long after Cedric pulled out Leroy pulled away from her mouth and climbed between her legs.
He slammed his cock all the way into her pussy. He did not take it slow or easy as he savagely pushed in as deep as he could go in one motion. He let out an "oh fuck yes" as he hit bottom.
Veronica moaned and raised her legs to wrap them around Leroy's ass as he slowly pulled out and then slammed into her love hole again with her loud approval. When he started slowly inching his pussy pleaser with the big knob back out of her pussy you could hear Veronica let out a chorus of moans as Leroy was deliberately teasing Veronica's pussy. Her hands were clawing at his back and her legs were pumping on his ass frantically trying to pull her empty love nest up to use his black tool or to get him to ram his black cock back into her cunt.
Veronica's eyes opened wide as she gritted her teeth and yelled out.
"I need you to fuck my pussy hard, fuck me now and fuck me hard."
Leroy didn't need any more encouragement as he slammed his big black cock into Veronica's already semen filled opening and worked up a good rhythm, pounding her for all he was worth.
Veronica was like an animal possessed rising up and meeting every stroke and screaming for him to fuck her. They were both on fire as they fucked like there was no tomorrow.
Roy walked over as naked as he could be and knelt down in front of Veronica and started trying to rub the head of his cock against her lips. Veronica was moving around from being fucked so Roy's cock was rubbing all over her face. You could tell Roy was already worked up because when his cock rubbed her face and her lips you could see the glossy sheen from his precum streaks he was leaving on her face.
Veronica opened her eyes to see what was happening and they got huge as she stared up into the biggest black cock she had ever seen. It must have been 13 inches long and as thick as her wrist. She just stared up at it as Roy was holding it there waiting for her to open her mouth to take it in.
Veronica finally steadied herself and reached up with her hand and wrapped it around the sizable donkey dick. She started working her hand up and down the big cream stick all the while not losing any rhythm with the intruder that was pounding her cunt. Veronica finally opened her mouth as wide as she could just to get the head of Roy's cock into her mouth. You could hear her moaning as she was again sucking one sperm shooter and being fucked by another. She was groaning out of the corners of her mouth from each pump into her cunt as she gave face to Roy's huge cock.
Roy pushed forward a little more as his horse meat stretched open her mouth and cried out "oh yeah, your mouth feels so good."
"Suck my cock baby, suck it down." "Lick your tongue all around it like that you fucking pussy and make me cum."
With those words you could tell whatever inhibitions might have been left were gone now and everything seemed a frenzy as things were turning into an all out gang bang of Veronica.
Roy had almost half his huge cock in her mouth now as he put his hands on the back of her head to start using her mouth as a fuck hole while Leroy was busy using the other. Roy's hands were so big it looked like he was palming a cantaloupe as he guided his cock in and out of her mouth.
You could see Veronica's tongue working around the head when Roy pulled it out and then he would shove it back in as far as he could stretching her mouth to the limits around the circumference of his monster meat. Veronica would gag and choke at Roy's size but tried to take as much as she could.
Leroy was still pounding her at a pretty fast pace and was beginning to moan as he was building to his inevitable release. He started grunting as he slammed his cock into her as deep as he could and arched his back as you could tell he was about to splash the inside of her womb with her second load of the evening. His pace hurried slamming her cunt as hard as he could.
Leroy started yelling out "oh shit, here it cums slut."
"Fuck, I'm gonna blow, oh God it feels so good, you ready for my hot spunk bitch?"
Leroy's body was convulsing as he groaned and slammed his cock into her cunt filling her with more jizz. This seemed to put Roy over the top as started bucking and screaming.
"oh yes, I'm going to cum in your mouth, get ready to swallow it bitch".
Roy jerked rapidly and started dumping his own load in Veronica's mouth as he yelled.
"Oh yes I'm fucking cumming, swallow it all bitch, swallow it all don't waste a drop."
Roy must have been saving his cum for a while because he groaned and bucked his cum into her mouth as deep as he could 4 or 5 times unloading several huge deposits into her mouth. Veronica gave it her best effort but with Roy holding her head tightly and the huge cock rammed in her mouth made her gag and the streams of white cum started running out from around the cock in her mouth and down her chin to her chest.
Roy continued to pump his flaccid cock in her mouth a few more times to empty his seed as she continued gagging on his huge load.
When Roy finally pulled out after he had completely drained his sack into Veronica's mouth, Veronica screamed.
"Oh yes, keep fucking me, I need you to fuck me hard."
"I am so turned on right now I can't stand it."
"I need you to fuck me hard."
She had her hands and feet wrapped around Leroy's ass trying to make him fuck her harder. But Leroy had already shot his wad so his cock was not ready to continue and he pulled out and rolled over so that Tyrone could climb between her legs.
It seem like one motion as Roy rolled off Tyrone climbed on Veronica and shoved his black cock in her white pussy and was pounding her hard and fast. This put Veronica over the top.
She cried out "Oh yes, I am going to cum now."
"Fuck me hard, oh God I need you to fuck me hard now."
Veronica was bucking like an animal as Tyrone pounded as hard as he could and she was moaning and cumming harder than ever before. Her pussy was making sloshing noises as she kept crying out.
"Oh dear God, so good, so good, can't stop cumming."
"I want your cock, I want your cum, I need to be fucked."
"I can't stand it anymore, fuck me harder."
Tyrone waited for Veronica to regain composure and without pulling his cock out of Veronica he rolled over and got Veronica on top of him. Veronica took a minute then started slowly rising up and lowing herself on his cock. She didn't fuck slowly for long and soon was using his black cock as a battering ram on her pussy fucking him as fast as she could move.
Erwin couldn't take waiting any longer. He came over and stuck his cock in Veronica's face as she was fucking Tyrone for all he was worth. Veronica opened her mouth immediately and took the whole piece of meat in her mouth and started working it in and out of her mouth like a woman possessed. Just a couple hours ago this cock whore acted like a conservative wife who had transformed into the cockaholic in front of everyone and seemed like she could not get enough black cock into her white pussy nor fast enough.
She took Erwin's whole cock down her throat burying her nose in his stomach. One hand was on Tyrone's chest as she was rising and slamming on his pole at a very rapid pace while the other hand was on Erwin's ass shoving his cock in and out of her mouth as deep as she could gagging as she took his whole kidney wiper down her throat. Erwin had been whacking his cock this whole time while he watched the action and now he could not believe how good she was taking care of him with her mouth.
"Oh my God you're a fucking whore, take it, suck it down your throat, you are such fucking slut, suck my cock." Said Erwin.
Veronica had only been sucking Erwin's member in her mouth a minute or so when his eyes opened wide as he said you are going to make me cum. Veronica was moaning on his cock. You could see her working her tongue around the blue veined member in her mouth as she worked it back and forth and then taking it all down her throat. This pushed Erwin over the edge as he was pushing forward with his balls slapping her chin to see how far down her throat he could go. Erwin grabbed the back of Veronica's head and for the second time in just minutes Veronica's throat was being used as a sperm receptacle for a deposit.
Erwin seemed lost in the moment and only concerned about fulfilling his animal needs. He began pounding his semen spout in Veronica's mouth as fast, deep and hard he could.
Erwin cried out "take it all you fucking whore"
"Oh fuck that's it, I'm going to cum down your fucking throat you cunt."
"Oh fuck, oh fuck you have me ready to cum, oh shit here it cums, yes, yes, here it cums, swallow it bitch."
With that he tightened the gripe on the back of her head even more and slammed forward to shove his cock as far as it would go, he clinched his ass cheeks as he convulsed exploding inside her mouth.
His body spasm violently as he groaned and his ass was clinched tight as he gave a few rapid thrusts forward looking like he was trying to empty himself directly into Veronica's stomach.
He drained the remaining man seed on her face and then wiped the cum his cock on Veronica's face which was now covered from her forehead to her chin and more breast icing dripped down onto her chest.
Veronica started really working up and down on the cock inside her as she was nearing yet another gigantic climax.
"Fuck me I need to cum again."
"Please fuck me hard. It feels so good to be fucked like this."
"I am ready to cum again while you fuck me, please fuck me hard."
Leroy's cock has gotten hard again watching the action and walked up kneeled behind Veronica. He straddled Tyrone's legs and pushed Veronica's upper body onto Leroy's chest causing her to stop fucking as he started rubbing his cock against her backside getting his cock nice and wet from the semen running down her legs.
Leroy then spread her ass cheeks wide for everyone to get a closer inspection of Tyrone's cock filling her pussy and the beautiful little closed orifice surrounded by puckered wrinkles and slightly darker skin which is Veronica's ass.
Leroy again took his cock and rubbed the moisture from the length of her cunt and then he pushed his cock head against her last unused opening.
Veronica lifted her head, turned to look at him and asked "What do you think you're doing back there?"
Leroy did not respond, he just pushed her face towards another waiting cock and Veronica instinctively took the member in her mouth.
Tyrone knew what was happening and grabbed Veronica's ass cheeks with both hands and put her ass on display for everyone to see. Leroy didn't hesitate as he slid his cock down to her cunt again to get more lube on the large head of his battering ram and everyone watched him shove his cock slowly, but with some effort against her little unopened rosebud.
With her ass cheeks spread as he pushed everyone got a great view of what looked like an oversized purple mushroom pushing against the tight puckered knotted end of a balloon. The shaft of Leroy's cock started to bow as he pressed harder until the head of his cock slowly started to dilate Veronica's small puckered anal opening. It seemed like slow motion as Leroy pushed harder and the bulbous head of his cock stretched Veronica's sphincter.
With Veronica grunting with the cock in her mouth, Leroy's sizable mushroom capped member completely expanded her orifice then disappeared into her butt hole as her sphincter closed tightly around his shaft.
The cock that had been in Veronica's mouth fell out as her head looked to the ceiling and she wailed loudly upon feeling the cock head filling her ass. The others were rubbing and playing with their cocks standing in a circle around Veronica. The rest of the men were standing in a circle around Karen and her body was being assaulted too.
Veronica had stopped fucking Tyrone, turned and put a hand on Leroy's stomach.
"Go slow until I get use to your cock in my ass." Said Veronica
After a short moment Leroy began slowly pushing his cock all the way into her ass as Veronica's head tilted back, her eyes opened wide and her mouth wide open.
Once Leroy's black cock was in her white ass he laid on her back, now Veronica was sandwiched between two guys with two male sperm dispensers only an inch apart in both of her holes. After what only seemed like a minute or so Veronica slowly started rocking back against the two cocks.
Veronica looked at the two guys and said.
"I need to be used, fuck me hard now!"
Leroy and Tyrone took a little while, but both got into a rhythm and started pounding her two holes in unison.
Veronica screamed "ugh, ugh, oh God, two cocks fucking me."
"Please both of you fuck me as hard as you can."
"Shove that cock in my ass, use my body, make me a whore, and fuck me at the same time."
"I fucking cumming, oh God fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me."
Veronica's body was moving in every direction as both guys were fucking her holes at full speed now and both guys would slam their cocks in her orifices as deep as they could go. Both guys seemed to forget about Veronica and were only trying to satisfy their own need so there was no rhythm or working together as both just rammed their cocks into her for all they were worth.
Veronica again cried out "oh my God, I am being fucked so hard and I feel so full of cock, fuck me harder." "Oh God I can't stop cumming."
The frenzy and the spasms of her body caused Leroy and Tyrone both to start to cumming at the same time as they both slammed their cocks as deep into Veronica's openings as hard as they could and both start to cum.
Both tense up pull out only to try and slam their cocks into her even harder as they emptied themselves inside her holes. All three laid there in a pile for a few minutes until Leroy and Tyrone finally pulled out and rolled off of Veronica.
Veronica was covered in sweat and had cream pies oozing out of her pussy and her ass. Her hair was mussed, her makeup was smeared and running and she had drying cum covering her face, body and hair. Someone brought out some damp towels and they began to clean some of the endless amount of cum that seemed over her petite frame. She was just laying there as they were trying to clean her.
Then another one of the guys, Marcus couldn't wait for them to finish cleaning her so he laid down between her legs and proceeded to start fucking her. Veronica looked up to see that she had someone new inside her. She raised her legs to her chest so that he could sink in further.
"Fuck me, fuck me hard, I want all of you to use me."
"I am yours to use any way you want tonight."
"I will fuck every one of you as many times as you want."
"I need more cock in me, I am so fucking horny."
Two guys knelt down, one on each side of her head and she took turns sucking their cocks. Things were becoming a blur as guys were fucking her like a plastic fuck doll. The guys kept shifting positions and over the next hour Veronica rarely had a hole left unused.
Efrem had just crawled between Veronica's legs when Zahair who was ready again stopped him and told him he wanted underneath her. Efrem pulled out as Zahair lay down on the floor. The rest of the guys helped Veronica up and moved her over Zahair.
With Veronica back to him and cum dripping down her legs they lowered her brown hole onto his waiting butt stick. She laid back on his chest as Efrem climbed back on and stuck his cock back into her waiting cunt to finish what he started. Efrem was so horny he started fucking her at a frantic jackhammers pace.
Efrem only lasted a few minutes and rolled off of Veronica. Cum was flowing out of Veronica's gash that was staying open almost an inch wide. You could see into her opening and watch the movement of the skin membrane from Zahair's cock moving in and out of her butt. That didn't stop another guy from climbing between her legs. It took a minute for the new guy fucking Veronica, but he got into the rhythm and started pounding her cunt.
Veronica appeared in a constant state of orgasm with her mouth wide open and her eyes in a haze she couldn't control herself as she moaned loudly and her whole body spasm.
Zahair tensed and splashed the inside of her bowels. This drove the guy fucking Veronica over the top as he started to slam her pussy as hard as they could and they began to shoot cum on Veronica. They laid there for a few minutes and then both rolled off of Veronica.
Stefon who had only used Veronica's mouth to this point picked her up and placed her on the dining table. He crawled between her legs and rested her calves on his shoulders. With her ass at just the right height he lined up his horse cock which had to be 9" long and as thick as can of cola with her rear entry. Her opening did not provide any resistance this time as he slowly started shoving his cock up her rectum.
Veronica was groaning as he appeared to hit the end of the trail with his balls hanging about an inch or two from her ass cheeks. He started pulling out and then rammed it back into her ass with a loud moan from Veronica. Stefon had a lot more staying power as he pumped her exit door for nearly 10 minutes with Veronica in a daze and just moaning low guttural noises. Stefon finally pulled out and whacked the remainder of a huge load of penis pudding on her face.
Two other guys lifted Veronica like a rag doll and laid her stomach down over the arm of the sofa with her anal opening in the air and her feet on the floor. Several guys lined up and took turns shoving their cocks in and out of her butt.
After a while the guys pulled Veronica over to the front of couch and put a pillow behind her to prop her back against the couch with her head on the floor they were holding her legs in the air. They lined up and the first guy straddled her body and bent his cock down and pushed it into her cunt. He would take turns pulling out of her cunt, sticking his cock in her ass for a while and back to her cunt. When he was ready to cum her pulled out over her face and splattered her again.
Things were beginning to wind down as several guys turned her over and were standing over her jacking their hard cocks and blowing their loads on her face and in her hair.
It was almost 3am and Karen came into the room looking as bad as Veronica. They both looked like their entire bodies covered with cum. All the guys just lay around spent and boasting about the cum covered whores.
Kwame was happy for his clients as Veronica took at least 25 loads of cum. Karen took just as many. The men appreciated the use of the two whores for the night.
The girls showered, got dress and Kwame's body guard drove the Karen and Veronica home. Karen asked Veronica if she was being fucked during that whole time.
Veronica said that she at least one cock in her the entire time except when she went in to clean up. She said that she could not believe how many times she had been fucked and how many times she had cocks in every hole.
She said that she felt so sore in every hole she could barely walk, but sore in a "good way."
Karen asked her if she liked what happened to her and Veronica said that she was loved the animal sex. It was the most thrilling thing she had ever done. Karen said excellent, we will more of those available for both of us.
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Request by Faith+Benton
-Sehun gets injured in some way and the reactions from everyone in the group. How they handle it. I’d like for it to be an idol conon au so anyway you want to take that from there is fine I just want to see how they take care of their maknae.
-Sehun has a run in with a sasaeng and it scares him he can be injured or not but other members taking care of their maknae.
*Both requests have been combined.
Word count: 2057
It wasn’t the first time they had encountered sasaeng fans. It happened quite frequently as a matter of fact. Most of the time they were only minor disturbances, ones that they didn’t pay too much attention to and ones that didn’t affect them too much. It came with the territory and every group had them, some more than others. EXO was no different.
Airports were something that they both loved and loathed. It was the place that took them to so many beautiful places in the world. Without it they would never be able to visit their fans that lived in countries so far away from their own. They loathed them because they were dangerous. Thousands of fans would pack in to the building in tight huddles, hoping to catch a glimpse of their idols. Even with the security protecting them and warning the fans to stay away the sheer amount of fans made it nearly impossible for them to safely get from point A to point B, even then they somehow managed to come out ruffled but uninjured. It was something as a celebrity that you got used to. There was nothing you could really do about it, especially when you were as high profile as them.
It was just another days and another trip overseas, this time flying from Japan back to Korea. They were all tired and with their back to back concerts it was no wonder. Most of them had managed to sleep on the plane, well as much as they could with a flight time of under two hours. Security was waiting for them when they landed, ready to escort them through the airport and into the company cars waiting for them.
Everything had seemed to progress normally but Sehun couldn’t help think that something bad was about to happen. The walked single file, Chanyeol leading with Minseok taking the rear. Sehun was between Jongin and Minseok. He looked around nervously. He just couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.
They were nearly out of the airport when Sehun felt hands on his bag and he was pulled to the side, his loose grip on Jongin’s shoulder not having the time to grab on and stop his forced movement.
“Sehun!” he heard Minseok’s shocked yell before complete and utter chaos descended on the crowd.
The force that had pulled him to the side had pushed him off balance and he came crashing to the ground, his left wrist taking the brunt of the impact as he tried to catch his fall. He yelled in pain, eyes squeezing shut.
“Sehun, I love you!” he heard through the haze of pain, feeling a weight settle itself on his waist. He tried to get up but couldn’t. His eyes opened as he saw a girl straddling his waist. The girl put her hands in his collar and begin to shake him back and forth spouting her undying love for him and the look on her face terrified him. It was frantic and obsessive.
Just as quick as it had started the girl was heaved off of him and carried out of his eye sight by security, three others coming to left him up and march him towards the cars where his frantic members were waiting. They had been stopped from going back to help their maknae, something which they had faught against. It had all happened in the blink of an eye.
The security guards quickly put Sehun in the car and not even a second later the car was on the go, speeding away from the airport. Sehun had been caught by Junmyeon and Minseok who had been waiting for him. Sehun was too stunned by the events to even move, his brain still trying to process what had happened when a nudge to his wrist had him yelping.
“Sehun you’re hurt.” Junmyeon said holding Sehun’s arm up, his wrist already bruised and swollen. It’s then that he notices that he’s shaking and it’s not just contained to his hands, it’s his entire body.
Sehun are you okay?” Minseok asked hugging him from behind, trying his best to sooth the youngest member. Sehun doesn’t answer because frankly he doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to portray the multitude of emotions inside of him.
“Hyung, we need to head to the hospital.” Kyungsoo said to the manager from the front seat and it’s the first time Sehun had noticed the elder. Baekhyun, Jongdae, Jongin and Chanyeol are nowhere to be seen. ‘They must be in the other car’ he concludes.
“Already on the way Kyungsoo-yah.” Says the manager. “Call someone in the other car and tell them where we’re headed and to meet us there.”
Kyungsoo does as he’s told, immediately getting out his phone to dial one of the others. Sehun tunes everything out, everything apart from the pain in his wrist. That cuts through everything. He doesn’t even realise they’ve made it to the hospital until Junmyeon and Minseok are walking him down the white halls.
Their manager must have called ahead as they’re ushered into a private room and helped onto a bed. Moments later the rest of his members come rushing into the room all looking worried for the wellbeing of their little brother. It’s not long before Sehun is taken off for x-rays, his wrist to swollen to identify whether or not there had been any damage to the bone.
“Lucky nothing is broken, just sprained. It will hurt for a while but when it’s healed it will be as good as new.” The doctor tells Junmyeon who had refused to leave the maknae’s side the entire time.
“He’s still shaking and he’s doesn’t really respond when we talk to him.” Junmyeon tells the doctor, concerned.
“He’s still in shock. He went through a traumatic experience and his body and mind are still trying to come to terms with everything. Give it some time. His vital signs are all good so it’s nothing to worry about. He’s alright to go home. I’ll be in contact with your manager about check-ups and future appointments.” The doctor tells him and Jumnyeon bows gratefully.
Within the next hour they’re all back at the dorm. At this time they would usually be sleeping but none of the feel tired, the events of the day keeping them wide awake. The only one that seems tired is Sehun, the adrenaline that had been running through his veins finally disappearing. They tuck Sehun into bed making sure that he arm is positioned in a way so it won’t accidently get hurt.
When Sehun wakes he feels disorientated. It takes him a moment to take everything and realise that he’s in his room. The bed next to him is empty, Junmyeon nowhere to be seen. He moves his hand and winces in pain, forgetting that it had been injured.
With his uninjured hand he searches around on his bedside table for his phone, feeling a brief moment of achievement when he finds it. He doesn’t even bother to look at the time, finger immediately going towards the ‘news’ icon. Like he had suspected there are multiple articles about the ‘incident’. He knows he shouldn’t but he does anyway. He reads every single one and watches all of the videos attached. After the first one he had turned his volume down to zero, the screaming had been too much for him. That and he didn’t want to alert any of his members to the fact that he was awake.
He couldn’t help but shake as he watched them. He had been scared, absolutely terrified and watching it happen again made everything he had been feeling at the time resurface. His face dampens from both his sweat and the tears that fall down his face in steady streams.
The door to his shared room opens slowly, Kyungsoo’s head coming around the corner. Sehun doesn’t bother to put his phone down. He knows Kyungsoo knows what he was doing by the frown on his face.
“You’re awake.” He comes to stand beside the bed.
“I’m awake.” Sehun confirms, voice strangely flat, it lacking the usual sarcasm that was so like him.
“You must be hungry. Baekhyun ordered in. I was going to wake you but seeing as you’re already up it makes my job easier.” He smiles and Sehun appreciates how Kyungsoo isn’t coddling him.
Sehun gives Kyungsoo a half smile as he throws the cover off him and sits up. His body hurts but he doesn’t make it obvious. He doesn’t want his hyungs to worry about him anymore then he’s sure they already do. He walks into the living room and there are his members seated around the centre table, various contained of what looks like Chinese food spread out over it. They all turn to look at him as he arrives. Their smiles are comforting and more subdued then they usually were which didn’t surprise him. What did surprise him was a face that wasn’t supposed to be there.
“Xing hyung?”
“Hey Sehunnie.” He greets smiling, his dimples showing.
“What are you doing here?”
“I saw what happened and decided to come back early.”
“But you have schedules and everything. You can’t ditch them because of me.”
Yixing frowns. “I came back because I wanted to. Did you really expect me to stay in China and just sit back and wait for any news?”
“ ‘m sorry hyung.” Sehun apologises, feeling guilty.
“There’s no need for you to apologise.” Yixing pats his butt and it’s so like him he has to crack a smile. The moment in interrupted by Baekhyun.
“Can we eat now? My stomach feels like it’s going to eat itself if I have to wait any longer.” He complains but yelps when Jongdae slaps him across the back of the head for being an ‘insensitive prick’.
They all begin to eat, the chatter picking up around the table. Sehun is usually vocal during times when they are together but this time he just sits back and observes. No one tries to drag him into any of the conversations picking up that at the moment he didn’t want to talk. Sehun is thankful that his members are so perceptive.
As the food runs out the conversations begin to die down. The empty containers are stacked into a pile out of the way. They migrate to the lounge room when everyone had finished eating. Sehun is squished between Chanyeol and Jongdae, the younger two of the beagle line claiming the spaces beside him before anyone else could. Baekhyun huffs buts plops down between Jongdae’s legs, his back leaning against the lounge.
“I was scared, you know?” He says suddenly and everyone turns to looks at him, halting their conversations. “There was so much screaming and at first I didn’t know what had happened but I knew I was terrified. It’s silly but I was scared.” He presses the heel of his uninjured palm to his eye.
“It’s not silly. Anyone would have been scared in your situation.” Minseok reasons.
“What’s going to happen to the girl?” he asks and Junmyeon sighs.
“Don’t know. Unless you decide to press charges probably nothing.” He tells him flat.
“I don’t want that.” He whispers. He swears that he could hear Chanyeol mumble ‘Of course he wouldn’t. He’s too damn compassionate for his own good’.
“The company will probably issue a warning. That you can’t stop.” Baekhyun says bluntly though not unkindly.
“That’s good enough for me.” Sehun says.
“Well, look in the bright side. They’ve given us a few days off.” Sehun laughs wetly at Jongin, the others giving their own little cheers.
“Thank god. I’m absolutely beat.” Chanyeol groans. Jongdae slaps him in the stomach and he bends forward in pain.
“Looks like you need to hop to the gym a bit more Park. It looks like your falling behind.” Jongdae remarks playfully, smirking that kitten smirk.
Chanyeol glares at him for a moment before lunging, Jumnyeon’s cry of ‘Watch out for the furniture!’ goes ignored as more join in on the action. Sehun can’t help but laugh out loud, getting out his phone to record the fiasco.
It may have been an unconventional way to cheer him up but he can’t say it didn’t work.
|
Steve manages to get in the door without blushing, which he feels pretty proud of, considering the circumstances. Not that there’s a big neon sign over the door flashing PORN STUDIO or anything. It’s discreet. Steve would never have let Bucky talk him into coming this far if it weren’t.
He takes a deep breath and reminds himself he can do this—needs to do this, even. But no one but Bucky can ever know, because if Steve’s mom works out how he’s paying for her TB treatment, she’ll leave the hospital and go back on the cheap drugs, and those aren’t working. Steve loves being an artist, but it doesn’t pay that well.
Fortunately, Steve’s pretty sure his mom doesn’t watch a lot of porn.
Still, even though he knows he’s fairly safe, he keeps his voice down when he asks the (perfectly respectable) receptionist, “Excuse me, miss. I—my name is Steve Rogers. I’m supposed to have a screen test this afternoon. Would you happen to know where I…?”
The receptionist blinks up at him from behind thick plastic frames. Okay, maybe she’s not perfectly respectable. She’s wearing a dark shade of lipstick and the neckline of her blouse sort of—plunges—which Steve isn’t judging her for, he’s not, and it takes him a minute to work out that he’s staring at her boobs. Which are very nice. The one on the left is apparently called Darcy, judging by the nametag.
She raises an eyebrow and hands him a clipboard. If she noticed his rudeness, she doesn’t mention anything. Actually, she looks him up and down before giving him a smile that makes him think of a great white shark. “Aren’t you just the cutest thing. Oh, honey, they are gonna love you. Here, go sit over there and fill this out, and then I’ll show you around, okay?”
Steve meekly does as he’s told and tries (and fails) to hold back a blush. Darcy scares him.
“Any questions?” she asks when he sets the forms down on top of her desk. “I mean about the paperwork,” she clarifies as she scans through it. Her eyebrows go right up when she reaches the section on past experience, and Steve somehow doesn’t die of embarrassment. He figured someone was going to read this, but he didn’t know she was going to read it in front of him.
“Um, no,” Steve answers. “It was all pretty straightforward.”
“Good.” Darcy tucks the clipboard under her arm as she stands. “Well, everything looks to be in order, so I guess we can get on with the tour. Right this way.”
Steve despairs. Darcy’s wearing high heels, and old-fashioned stockings with seams up the back, which he can see because her skirt is really short. And she only represents half of the genders he’s attracted to. Which she knows, since that information is on the stupid form.
“It’s just a screen test,” Darcy tells him, “so you don’t have much to worry about. They’ll ask you some questions and ask you to get naked, but no one will touch you unless you ask for it. We want to ease you into things.”
None of this is helping Steve freak out less.
“Change rooms are here.” Darcy points. “I’ll get you a fresh robe before your call. Stripping on camera is a skill not everyone gets right away.”
Steve swallows hard, because stripping on camera—that’s going to be a regular thing now. Well, if this goes well. What does that say about his life? “Thanks.”
Waving him off, Darcy continues toward the back of the building. “We have a couple different sets back here. There are two different bedrooms, a living room, and a kitchen mocked up at the moment. I think they’re doing a scene in the kitchen right now; I’ll show you in a minute. But first we’ll check out yours. You’re in bedroom one, looks like a college dorm. Perfect.”
Right. Steve’s been out of college two years now, but he remembers how much action his dorm room didn’t see.
They pass through a wide hallway with shelves on either side, and Darcy pulls down a plastic-wrapped terrycloth robe and hands it over. “Here, you’ll want this later.”
“Thanks,” he says again and does his best not to freak out.
In fairness, the set isn’t bad. It’s bigger than an actual dorm room, obviously, to allow for cameras and—crew—and stuff, but other than that it’s surprisingly comfortable. There aren’t any posters on the wall, probably for some weird intellectual copyright reasons, but other than that and the lack of a huge pile of laundry on the floor, it really could be a dorm room.
“I think everyone’s still on the kitchen shoot,” Darcy tells him. “Well, and Jane’s out getting lunch, but she does the video editing, we don’t need her around all the time.”
Steve hasn’t even met Jane and she’s going to see him naked. The back of his neck itches.
Then Darcy’s phone rings. “One sec, Apple Pie, I have to take this”—and she reaches up and taps the piece of plastic in her ear. “Go for Darcy.”
Whoever’s on the other end, they must be someone important, because Darcy’s whole body language changes from casual to military tense. “Of course,” she says briskly. “No, God, don’t do that, he hates that, Jesus. Natasha. No. Show him into the office and I’ll be there in a minute, okay? And try not to punch him for hitting on you.”
She taps the headset again and gives Steve that shark smile. “Looks like I’ll have to wrap up the tour later. Why don’t you go make yourself comfortable and I’ll meet you in the change room?”
She makes it sound so… professional. Oh God, please don’t let his screen test be with Darcy. She’ll eat him alive. “Sure,” he says, impressed that he manages to keep his voice even. “I’ll just… yeah.”
So he goes back to the change room, takes off his clothes, and stacks them in an empty locker before shrugging into the robe and the pair of hotel slippers that were packaged with it. And then he sits down and waits.
And waits.
And waits.
Steve wonders if maybe time goes slower when you’d really like to get something over with.
Finally the door opens again, only it’s not Darcy standing there. Instead, it’s a man wearing tight-fitting jeans and an AC-DC T-shirt. He’s probably older than most porn stars—what? Steve’s a man, he’s watched porn before; he didn’t go into this without doing his research—but he wears the years well, and the goatee is pretty sexy. His warm brown gaze flicks up and down Steve’s body just as assessingly as Darcy’s did, with the possible exception that Steve’s wearing a lot less this time, but then he just quirks a smile. “First time, huh?”
And somehow the way he says it puts Steve right at ease. “Am I that obvious?”
“You’re wringing your hands.”
Oh. So he is. Steve stops right away. “Sorry.” He wipes said hands on his robe, then stands up and offers one to shake. “Steve Rogers.”
The man looks at him for a long second, and Steve wonders if he’s trying to figure out if that’s Steve’s real name. Oops. Maybe Steve should’ve thought of that. He knows most porn stars go by something else. But eventually the man just says, “Tony.”
They shake. Amazingly, it isn’t awkward. Okay, Steve can do this. “So, uh, I guess you’re here for my screen test?”
“I guess I am,” Tony says. “Lucky me.”
Steve blushes. It seems to be his default reaction today. “I don’t know about that.”
“Trust me,” Tony assures him, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “I know what I’m talking about. You’re gonna be fine.”
Well, if Tony thinks so. He’s the one with the experience. “Okay. Oh, Darcy said I should check out the scene they’re wrapping in the kitchen—maybe you could show me?”
“It would be my pleasure,” Tony says, and it’s cheesy and a really blatant innuendo, but he sounds like he means it, so Steve lets it slide. “After you.”
Which is how he ends up wheezing into his knees—and the robe isn’t all that long, so God only knows what Steve has on display—outside the kitchen shoot, because there was a naked guy in there with a rolled-up newspaper smacking some poor man dressed up like a dog, with a—a tail shoved up his—
He barely hears the click-click-click of Darcy’s heels. “What did you do to him?”
“Don’t look at me,” Tony answers from behind Steve, where he is making himself useful by reminding Steve to breathe when he does. “Apparently you’re the one who thought it was a good idea for him to observe a puppy play scene on his first day.”
There’s a pause that makes Steve think maybe Darcy is conceding Tony has a point. Then she sighs. “I have been in this business too long if I’m making that kind of mistake. Sorry, Steve. If it helps any, that’s not something we ever expect of anyone. You get to decide what kinds of things you want to try.”
It does help, and Steve calms down enough to straighten his legs—and his robe. He doesn’t even bother flushing this time. Heck, these people deal with men having sex while dressed up as animals. Nothing Steve has to show off is going to shock them. “It’s all right. I just wasn’t expecting it.”
Darcy gives him a calculating look over her clipboard. “You still up for your screen test?”
Steve takes a deep breath. He’s still a little rattled, but he needs the money. And besides—“I wouldn’t want to disappoint Tony.”
That seems to bring Darcy up short. “Tony?” she repeats.
“Sure,” he says. “I mean, he came in to do this screen test, right?”
Darcy isn’t looking at him anymore. She’s looking at Tony.
“I did come all this way,” Tony says mildly, reminding Steve that he’s essentially still pressed up against him. Well, they’re doing porn together; this isn’t so scandalous in comparison.
Steve stands up anyway, hoping he didn’t just give Darcy a show, even if she is unlikely to be affronted.
Finally Darcy says, “Okay,” and leads them to the dorm set.
Tony takes one look at it and says, “No, no, not this one, the living room one. We’ll be more comfortable there.”
Darcy firms her lips, then looks at Steve. “Your call, cuteness.”
He shrugs. “Tony’s the expert. If he says we’ll be more comfortable on another set, I trust him.”
Darcy mutters something that sounds like “unbelievable” under her breath, but she brings them to the other set anyway and starts fiddling with the camera. “Gonna need you on the couch so I can adjust the lighting. Make yourself comfortable, it could be a while.”
Steve tenses at that, because he’s not stupid—for the lighting to be right, he’s got to be naked, and he’s not sure he’s ready to take the robe off.
Tony must see him flinch, because he says, “Take a load off, Darcy. I got this one. That camera’s got Bluetooth functionality, right? I’ll control it from my phone.” He holds it up. “I think Steve would be more comfortable with just the two of us the first time.”
Darcy purses her lips. “You know it’s against policy to leave the talent unsupervised, Tony.”
“I don’t mind if you don’t mind,” Steve says. Tony’s right—the smaller the audience, the more comfortable he’ll be. “Besides, the camera will be on the whole time. It’s not like he’s going to take advantage of me.” Steve has at least four inches—height, anyway—and forty pounds of muscle on Tony. What does Darcy think he’s going to do that Steve can’t stop?
Darcy relents with a sigh. “Okay, if you insist. Supplies are in that end table drawer. Steve, the initial screen test usually just calls for an interviewer to ask you some questions to relax you, and then you jerk off for the camera. That’s it. If you want to do anything else, that’s between the two of you.”
Steve licks his lips. Sure, no problem, just leave him here with Tony to get himself off on film. Right. Except if Tony was talking about controlling filming from his phone, he probably wants to participate.
Steve is actually pretty okay with that, which makes his palms sweat. “Okay. Thanks, Darcy.”
“And if it gets too much at any time, just ask Tony to turn the camera off. He will.” Darcy fixes Tony with a flat stare. “Right, Tony?”
“Of course,” Tony says easily. “Relax. I’ll take good care of Steve.”
Darn it. Steve was doing so well with not blushing too.
Darcy points to a switch on the wall by the door. “This turns a light on outside the set letting everyone know it’s closed for filming, so you won’t be interrupted.” She flips it on. “It’s about as much privacy as you can get around here, so you kids have fun.”
Then she leaves.
Steve wonders if it wouldn’t be less awkward with her here after all.
When Tony looks up from his phone, he huffs a little laugh. “Relax, okay? I’m not going to bite you. Unless you like that.” He pauses and gets a gleam in his eyes Steve finds very… interesting. “Do you like that?”
Steve’s mouth goes dry. “Um.” He clears his throat. “I don’t know.”
Something undefinable flits across Tony’s face, but then his expression goes inscrutable, and he stands up. “I’m just going to fix the lighting,” he says. “Why don’t you slip into something a little less opaque.”
In other words, get naked. But Tony’s not watching him take the robe off, so it’s easier. At first he wonders what to do with it, but then he thinks about sitting on a—a sex couch naked, so he spreads it out and sits down on top of it. He’s not paranoid, just prudent.
The red light on the side of the camera blinks on. “So, Steve,” Tony says from behind one of the set lights, “tell me about yourself.”
Steve doesn’t know if he should turn and talk to Tony or look into the camera, but Tony can’t see him right now anyway, so that decides for him. “Uh, my name is Steve. I’m twenty-five, and I’m an artist. Mixed media, photography, some sculpture, but mostly I paint. I could probably have done the lighting, actually.”
“Trust me when I say the viewers are gonna want you in front of the camera, not behind it.” Tony means people are going to get off to pictures of Steve, but he makes it sound... nice. Not dirty. Like it’s a compliment. “What made you decide to do porn?”
The words come out before Steve can stop them. It’s just that easy to talk to Tony, even when he’s hardly paying Steve any attention at all, or maybe because of that. “My mom got sick. She was volunteering in an orphanage in Africa. Tuberculosis. The regular medications aren’t helping, but the stronger ones are expensive, and I don’t exactly make a lot of money as an artist. I love it, and it pays the bills, but only just.” He shrugs. “She’d probably kill me if she knew I was doing this for her, but I don’t regret it.”
For a few seconds, Tony doesn’t respond. Then he says, “That’s very sweet. And also kind of a boner-killer. We might have to edit that out.”
Steve laughs. “You know, that’s okay. I really am just here for the paycheck, not the glory.”
“Yeah, that’s good, we’ll use that instead.” He can hear the smile in Tony’s voice. “Okay, I think that should be good for the lighting. Let me just check the camera—”
But he stops halfway there, in front of Steve again, and Steve couldn’t stop the blush this time if his life depended on it, because Tony is staring at his dick.
Tony licks his lips. “Wow. Steve, let me just say I think you have found your true calling. And okay, the blush really does go all the way down, doesn’t it? That’s—” He takes a deep breath. “Sorry, sorry, I’m supposed to be putting you at ease, not perving over how perfect your body is. Which it is, you know, extremely.”
“I can’t focus unless I work out before I paint,” Steve explains.
Tony’s behind the camera now, so his words are muffled, but Steve’s pretty sure he just said, “Thank God for that.” Then he takes a step back. “Well, the lighting is perfect; you look like an earthbound angel, except better hung. And you’re here to make money. Anything else the viewers should know about you?”
Tony doesn’t say it outright, but Steve feels like he’s asking Anything else I should know about you? And what the heck, if Tony can fool around a little—okay, bad choice of words—so can Steve. “I prefer brunets?”
Tony laughs. “Smooth. Okay, Casanova, I think Steve Junior’s ready to get this show on the road. What about you?”
Steve looks into his own lap, and wouldn’t you know it, he’s hard. He didn’t think it would be that easy to ignore the being on camera thing. “Yeah.” It comes out in a hoarse rasp that sounds, well, pornographic. Apparently Steve is a natural. “What do you want me to do?”
“Now there’s a loaded question.” Tony sits down on the opposite side of the couch. “Why don’t we start with you touching yourself. Show me what you like.”
Yeah, Steve can do that. He trails his right hand up his own thigh and rests it there for a second before taking hold of his erection. Tony’s gaze is a physical warmth on his skin, burning him up. Steve thumbs the moisture at the head of his cock, spreads it around a little before giving himself one slow stroke. It’s good but a little dry.
“Here.” There’s a noise of sliding wood, and then Tony holds up a small tube of lubricant, still safety-sealed. He peels the plastic off and hands it across the couch.
When their fingers touch, Steve feels it down to his toes. “Thanks.” He flicks the cap open and pours some slick on his cock, hissing at the cold. He keeps his eyes on Tony.
Tony clears his throat. “Right or left-handed?”
“Ah. Ambidextrous, actually. But right, by habit.”
Eyes darkening, Tony murmurs, “Convenient.”
Steve’s breath hitches. “Yeah,” he admits, because he’s pretty sure Tony just guessed what Steve likes to do best since he can use both hands so well.
Tony taps his phone. Across the room, the camera moves just a hair. Steve looks at it, then looks back at Tony—at Tony’s obvious interest in Steve.
Steve wishes Tony would touch him, but he doesn’t know how to ask.
“Why don’t you tell me your favorite fantasy,” Tony suggests as he rubs very distractingly at the bulge in the front of his too-tight jeans.
Well, that’s one way to start. “Uh.” Steve slows his strokes further, because the longer this takes, the greater the chance he can get Tony to put his hands—his anything—near Steve’s dick. He decides to just go for it. He’s here, naked, masturbating in front of a camera and a live person he finds extremely attractive. He can’t possibly be any more embarrassed. “I’m sitting on the couch in my apartment with a friend. Just hanging out. There’s a baseball game on, maybe.”
Tony watches Steve watch him as he undoes his belt buckle. “Go on.”
Steve swallows. “We’re both a little buzzed and”—say it, Steve, you can say it, you can say—“horny, and we look at each other and we....”
When he trails off, the only sound in the room is Tony’s zipper being lowered. Steve’s heart beats triple time.
“Not much of a dirty talker, are you?” Tony says. If the way he pushes his jeans and boxers down and off is any indication, he doesn’t mind. “That’s okay, I think I can cover the both of us.”
God, Steve is so okay with that.
“Pass that lube back over here, would you, hot stuff?” Steve does. “Great.” Tony pours some in his hand, then fists his cock, which is flushed purple with arousal. “You ever done this with anyone? Jerk off together?”
Wordlessly, Steve shakes his head. He doesn’t know if he’s supposed to look at the camera, but it doesn’t matter, because he can’t take his eyes off Tony.
“Slow down, sweetheart. We’re gonna make this last. So you never jerked off with anybody. But someone’s done this to you, right? Worked you up with their hands, let you fuck into their fist?”
Steve thinks it’s a good thing Tony told him to slow down, because the words coming out of his mouth make Steve squirm in desire. He shakes his head again, then decides Tony deserves to hear his voice. “No,” he whispers. “Never.”
Tony stops stroking, and so does Steve, almost automatically. “So when you said you didn’t know if you liked being bitten....”
“Nobody ever has.” Maybe he should be embarrassed. He’s twenty-five, after all. But Steve was a scrawny kid nobody looked twice at, and an awkward young adult everyone just assumed had plenty of experience because he was good-looking. It was a lot of pressure.
For what it’s worth, Tony doesn’t seem to care. He says, “Jesus, Steve, you are dangerous,” and then he slides across the couch so their legs are touching. “You want me to touch you?”
“Yes,” Steve hisses, because he sort of thought that much was obvious.
“You want me to wrap my hand around your cock and make you come, sweetness?” Tony says with his head on Steve’s shoulder. Steve thinks detachedly that he’s making sure he sees exactly what Steve does. Tony’s warm breath in his ear makes him shiver. “You want me to lean over and take it in my mouth and suck you until you scream? Let you come on my face?” The heat radiating off of him is immense. It won’t take much now. If Tony touches his dick, Steve’s going to fall apart.
Then Tony lowers his voice. “You want to do those things to me?”
Steve chokes and wraps his left hand around the base of his erection, because he isn’t ready to come. Not yet. “Yes.”
Tony holds up the bottle of lube. “I think you know what I want, Mr. Ambidextrous.”
Fortunately, Steve doesn’t have any extra blood in his body to flush with. He never expected to do that to himself in front of a camera, not his first time, but he’ll do anything to get Tony to touch him. He puts his hand out and Tony slicks his fingers.
He has to tighten his right hand on his dick this time, because even the slide of his own fingers over his hole is too much. When he pushes one in it’s like turning inside out; his skin becomes supersensitive and the steady rush of Tony’s breath over the skin on his neck makes him crazy. “Oh,” Steve says, and just then Tony slides his hand into his hair and turns his head and kisses him.
Steve feels his body tightening, trembling on the precipice, but he holds on and tastes Tony’s lips on his, Tony’s tongue in his mouth, experiences the rasp of stubble across his cheek and chin. Tony curves a warm, sticky hand over Steve’s bicep and follows it up his arm to his shoulder, his chest, ghosts it over a nipple. Then he pushes Steve’s head back and slides his lips down his neck, the goatee prickling the whole way as Steve’s pulse pounds under Tony’s tongue.
When Tony bites him, Steve comes harder than he ever has in his life. His body locks up around his finger, his nipples harden, semen floods over his right hand, and he loses all voluntary muscle control. All he can do is sit there and let it wash over him, and it’s so good, it’s mind-blowing, it’s amazing, he can’t wait to do it again. Except then he remembers Tony’s getting paid to do this, which takes the shine off a little.
At least he doesn’t have to worry about Tony faking his enthusiasm. He throws himself back into the seat cushion beside Steve, breathing hard and jerking roughly at his own cock. “Jesus Christ, Steve, fuck, you are so hot, I can’t believe that just happened, I am never this lucky, what is my life. Get over here and kiss me, please.”
At this point it’s the least Steve can do. He shakes off his stupor and turns his head, and his hands are still sticky and he doesn’t know what to do with them but it doesn’t matter, because as soon as he meets Tony’s lips with his Tony stiffens and comes, and the world is a beautiful place.
Until it’s just awkward.
Or awkward for Steve, anyway, though Tony doesn’t seem to notice. He’s apparently very busy staring at the ceiling. “So that’s a big yes on the biting thing.”
Steve makes a strangled noise of assent.
Tony huffs. “Good to know.” Then he sits up straight and looks down at himself in apparent distaste. “There’s got to be a bathroom around here somewhere,” he mutters, but in the end he just takes off his T-shirt and wipes himself with that before offering it to Steve. “It couldn’t be sacrificed for a nobler cause,” he encourages when Steve hesitates.
What the heck. It’s not like Steve wants to walk around with his own come on his hand. “Thanks.”
“Oh, honey. You never have to thank me for anything.”
Steve doesn’t know what to say to that, so he doesn’t say a word.
After another (awkward) minute, Tony stands up and puts his pants back on, and Steve shrugs back into the robe. He’s not sure he wants to leave the room, though; he knows everyone out there will know exactly what went on in here, and he doesn’t know if he can face them. Even though they knew before anything happened, it isn’t the same.
Tony saunters over to the camera, flicks it off, opens it up, and pulls out the SD card. Then he pops the back off his phone, sticks the card in there, and closes it again. That’s weird, but maybe it’s some kind of company thing. Steve doesn’t know. He fidgets.
“Come on, pumpkin, time to face the music.” He gestures toward the door.
Steve has to leave this room sometime.
Weirdly, there’s no one in the hall outside. There’s nobody in the change room either as Steve and Tony shower, separately and without speaking. But when Steve’s putting his clothes back on, he realizes Tony really cannot wear his shirt ever again. At least not without extensive laundry intervention. And he doesn’t appear to have a spare.
Steve pulls on his undershirt and hands his button-down to Tony. “Least I could do,” he offers.
Tony looks at the shirt like it might bite him, before accepting it with a shrug. “You’re a good guy, Steve,” he says at last.
The shirt’s at least two sizes too big for him, and it should be ridiculous, and Steve is probably an idiot for feeling proud that Tony is wearing his shirt. But he can’t help it.
Tony shakes his head as he rolls up the cuffs. “Come on, we should probably find Darcy and the rest.”
Darcy’s in an office Steve hasn’t seen before, with a handful of people he’s also never seen before. He assumes the girls must be Jane and Natasha, because Darcy mentioned them, but there’s also a guy in a too-tight black T-shirt, a tall man with hair that should have its own L’Oreal commercial, and two men in slacks and collared shirts looking casual but relaxed. Steve takes a moment to be thankful he didn’t see any of the other actors closely enough to figure out which one of them was dressed as a dog an hour ago.
All seven of them turn accusatory stares on Tony, which Steve thinks is probably a little weird given that this is a porn studio.
Darcy says, “We’ve considered your offer, and we’ve decided to take it.” Her voice is cold, nothing like the easy chatter she shared with Steve.
Tony just waves his hand. “That offer’s off the table. Forget it. Oh, don’t look like that, I still want the building. I’ll give you a million dollars for your indie film startup and take on the mortgage if you never let this video see the light of day.”What? Steve needs the money, and speaking of, where is Tony going to get a million dollars? Steve is pretty sure porn stars don’t make that much. “Uh, excuse me, don’t I get a say in this?”
“Shh, not right now, sugar lips,” Tony says without looking at him. “Well?”
Darcy and the others exchange glances. “Only if you get Steve to agree,” she says at length. “You do need his consent too.”
“Thank you,” Steve starts to say, but Tony turns around and Steve keeps his mouth shut.
“Hi,” Tony says, and he shakes Steve’s hand before Steve can pull away. “I’m Tony Stark, I’m a genius multibillionaire, I’m not a porn star, I was surprised you didn’t recognize me and I took horrible advantage of you. I couldn’t help myself, no jury in the world would convict me, have you seen you?”
Steve flushes. All he can think of to say is “You didn’t do anything to me I didn’t want,” which is completely true, even if Steve wasn’t clear on the circumstances.
“Exactly!” Tony says and throws a poisonous “you see?!” look over his shoulder at Darcy. “Look, if you still want to sell the video, that’s fine, it certainly won’t be the most scandalous thing ever to happen to me. Really it doesn’t even make the top five this year. But if you were just doing it to pay for your mom’s medical treatment, let me worry about that. I have more money than God, she’ll have the best care anyone can provide and more, and no one has to know what happened in that room except for us.”
God, Steve would like to take him up on that offer, but how can he? If it was just a video, that would be one thing. People would be paying for a product—a video of him. But if he makes this deal, then—what? No more video means Steve just traded sex for money, plain and simple. Steve doesn’t know if he can do that.
On the other hand, if he releases a sex video with Tony Stark, it will definitely go viral, and while it will probably make him a lot of money, there is no way his mother won’t hear about it. Steve is stuck.
Tony must sense his hesitation, because he continues, “Look, if it makes you feel any better, I decided I was going to pay for your mom’s medical treatment way before you gave it up on the couch.”
Steve flushes so hard he thinks he might be having an aneurysm. There are seven people watching and listening to this conversation. Why can’t Tony put a filter on his mouth? “Are you like this all the time?”
“No. I’m usually worse.” But then he drops the attitude and suddenly he’s the guy Steve met in the change room, easy and open. “You’re a nice guy, Steve. Wait, are you really Steve Rogers? Because I thought that was just a really clever stage name, you know, Rogers.” Steve’s flush must answer that question for him, because he just continues, “My God, you’re adorable. Anyway, not that these people aren’t all nice, because they are, but this industry will chew someone like you up and spit you out different, and I like you the way you are. Nice guys don’t usually date me. I’m hoping you’ll make an exception, but the offer to pay for your mom’s treatment is not contingent on it.”
Darcy and the other girls are actually leaning forward in anticipation at this point, and Steve reaches the end of his possible resistance. Tony is wearing his shirt. “You’re going to let me pay for dinner,” Steve says firmly. He can’t believe he’s giving in.
Tony grins, and oh wait, yes he can. “It’s a date.” |
Mischa was waiting impatiently in the parlor, frowning when they went inside.
“Were you kissing again?”
Will laughed, “No, I was calling Beverly. She’s going to come for a visit.”
Mischa’s eyes lit up, “Bevy? She liked my dress! I liked her!”
Will hugged her when he sat down on the couch, kissing the top of her head, “She liked you too, baby.”
“Mischa, I do believe it is time for your lessons soon.”
Mischa frowned, “But…”
“No, mazasis, you have been regular lax in your studies lately and I think it will be quite good for you. It should have happened before lunch.”
Mischa got off the couch with a pout, a deep annoyed sigh as she left with guard in tow. Hannibal sat down beside Will who curled up into him, sighing as he felt his prince’s hand over his head. “Not long now,” Will breathed, closing his eyes, “King Hannibal Lecter.”
“Hmm,” Hannibal sighed, “Do not remind me.”
Will smiled, “You’ll make a good king, you know you will.”
“A king is nothing without a perfect partner to stand beside him.”
Will lifted his head, “Compliments will get you everywhere, Prince Hannibal.”
Hannibal grinned, reaching out to touch Will’s cheek, “I should hope so, I have a plethora of them still to come.”
Will laughed and leaned into him, a chaste kiss that he was not surprised when Hannibal upped the deepness, tasting and exploring his mouth as their tongues touched. His hand came to Hannibal’s side and dug his nails in grinning at the intake of breath he heard as he moved to straddle him.
They broke apart and he breathed, licking his lips as he shared a sly smile. “You know when you’re king this is gonna be much harder to do.”
Hannibal’s hand came to the back of his neck and pulled him close, pressing kisses to his throat, “It is quite hard now with my sister due to interrupt any second,” he moaned as Will’s hand came to the front of his pants, “Tobulas, the door is open and the guards are quite aware of their surroundings.”
Will laughed, laying his forehead against Hannibal’s chest as he sighed, “I hardly notice them anymore.”
Hannibal huffed, “I do not find the idea,” Will’s hand moved and he bit his lip to stifle his noise, “Comforting.”
Will pulled his hand back, kissing Hannibal’s cheek as he stood up, holding out a hand. “Want me all to yourself, my king?”
Hannibal’s eyes showed his hunger at the moniker, Will’s grin widening when their hands touched and he was enveloped partially from the side Hannibal’s hold tightening as he kissed Will lewdly. He sighed into his arms as they parted and smiled. “I love you.”
Hannibal pressed a kiss to the edge of Will’s mouth, “And I you.”
Will couldn’t help but smile as he pulled him closer, just starting to press in as someone cleared their throat.
Both of them turned to see Sam standing there looking uncomfortable.
“I don’t mean to interrupt but there’s a situation.”
“What’s wrong?” Will asked, both Hannibal and Sam looking at him.
Sam looked away and Hannibal sighed, “I will join you shortly, Tobulas. Please start dinner without me if I am too late.”
Will’s face pinched and he nodded, pushing past them and heading for the stairs finding Mischa in the midst of class not far from her bedroom.
He stood in the doorway, not noticed, trying not to interrupt and also attempting to not feel dismissed. He wasn’t the almost king, he knew that, but it was one thing to be on the outskirts but another to be tossed aside like you didn’t exist.
It didn’t take long for Mischa to notice him, her eyes lighting up as her teacher sighed though smiled as her student ran towards him. “Will! I wanna show you! I wanna show you!”
Will smiled, “Show me what, baby?”
Mischa grabbed his arm and pulled, Will shrugging at Ms. Bichy who just smiled shaking her head.
They walked down towards where he remembered the North wing to be, heading right for her parents’ bedroom and opening the door. Will saw the guards smile at him a bit as the door closed, Mischa running for the closet and opening it.
Will was not at all surprised to see clothes bagged inside, some puffed out which could only be dresses for the queen and Will’s chest ached to think of Hannibal having these saved.
“Mischa what are we…?”
She knelt down and pulled out a box, running up to Will and handing it to him. He saw the Lecter crest over the top, wiping off dust and opening to look inside. His eyes widened.
“Mischa what is this?”
She smiled, “Hanni didn’t think you’d want it, since it’s so sparkly but I think it would look pretty!”
It was a crown. Quite dainty and thin but Will touched it reverently, wondering how it had gone unnoticed till now instead if in a safe somewhere. He touched the rubies at the top and felt tears in his eyes. “Baby, is this your mommy’s crown?”
Mischa nodded, “I want you to wear it, for the pictures!”
Will almost didn’t want to touch it but couldn’t help but remove it from the velvet box, holding the crown up to look at it closer.
“Hannibal wants me to wear it too?”
Mischa frowned, “Will, why are you crying! I didn’t want you to cry!”
Will wiped at the tears on his face, “Nothing, baby I’m fine. I just…don’t tell Hannibal you showed this to me okay?”
Mischa nodded and Will nearly put it on his head but refrained, putting the crown back inside the box and closing the lid.
It was ridiculous, but part of him felt so close to their parents here in this old room the force of it nearly made him burst into tears. He walked towards the door and held out his hand for Mischa to take, “Let’s put it somewhere closer okay?”
Mischa grinned, “Okay.”
He walked back to his and Hannibal’s bedroom, hiding the box discreetly near his section of the closet and letting out a breath before closing the door. “Your brother was going to make me something new, then?”
Mischa nodded as she sat on their bed, her legs swinging, “I said, Will would look pretty and he made his grumpy face.”
Will laughed, standing and walking over to her. He hugged Mischa tightly, “Thank you for showing me, baby.”
“Are you gonna wear it? Mommy would want you to wear it.”
Will closed his eyes, “We’ll see.”
They spent the next few hours lying in his and Hannibal’s bed, Will listening to Mischa read from the book Alana had given him complimenting her on the perfect pronunciation and attempting to learn some simple Lithuanian.
“No, Will, it’s ‘Karalius vestu’! Not vesti!”
Will sighed, “It’s not like I’ll have to say it, people are gonna say it to me.”
Mischa sighed, “But what if one of Hanni’s friends doesn’t know who you are? You have to say, King constort and…”
Will laughed, turning to tickle her, “Or I’ll just say, ‘Myliu tave kudikj!”
Mischa giggled, “No, no, you can’t love anyone but Hanni! He’ll be sad!”
Will kissed her cheeks, “Mischa kudikis!”
She giggled and tried to get away, Will kissing her forehead. “Don’t worry, baby, there’s no one else but you and Hannibal.”
Mischa let out a breath, turning to grin at him, “And Bevy, she’s your bestest friend ever and you love her.”
“Okay, Bev too. Just you three and no one else.”
“Sam, I love Sam. And Ms. Bichy.”
Will pushed hair out of her eyes, “There’s enough love for you all.”
Mischa said, “As tave myliu.”
Will kissed her cheek, “As tave myliu.”
A cough and Will turned to see Hannibal standing in the doorway, his eyes misty as he stared. “I believe it is time for dinner.”
Mischa jumped off the bed and ran past him, Will sitting up and stretching as he frowned at him. “What’s wrong?”
Hannibal came up to him in long strides, grabbing Will’s cheeks and kissing him deeply the warmth of his lips making him ache even as he pulled away kissing Will’s cheeks both. “I find myself falling in love with you all over again, each and every moment.”
Will laughed, wiping the tears that gathered down Hannibal’s cheeks, “You’re ridiculous, you know?”
“I have never heard you speak my language with such ease before, the hurried pronunciation at our wedding it was too quick for me to savor and seeing you with Mischa…”
Will hugged him tightly, resting his face against Hannibal’s neck, “She’s a good teacher.”
Hannibal held onto him so tight back that it was almost hard to breathe but Will did nothing to move him.
They both sighed and Will kissed Hannibal’s neck as he whispered, “It’s time for dinner, prince.”
Hannibal loosened up on his hold and stared at Will, his smile making it hard to do anything but smile back. “I suppose it is.”
They headed towards the dining room in silence, hands brushing as they went and when Will saw Mischa’s frown he said, “Your brother was helping me with my pronunciation.”
Hannibal laughed as he sat down, Will grinning as their feet met under the table.
“Did he teach you all the big words?”
Will grinned, petting Mischa’s head. “All the big ones.”
The spoke intermittently throughout dinner, Mischa talking of her lessons and Will asking after Bev’s arrival. “I should’ve asked her what flight she was taking.”
Hannibal shook his head, “It’s all been taken care of, Will, do not worry. She will not get in until tomorrow and it has all been arranged.”
Will smiled, “Of course it has.”
They spent the evening as always in the parlor, Will asking quietly as Mischa read her school books by the fire, “What was that stuff with Sam about?”
Hannibal frowned, his jaw setting, “Some unrest still by the people, there have been…incidents.”
Will frowned, “I thought…”
Hannibal took Will’s hand and brought it to his lips, “Do not worry, tobulas. It is being handled.”
“What are they upset about?”
“They wish to abolish the monarchy,” Hannibal said with a frown, “It has been a long running cause of anger.”
Will tensed, “Then you’re in danger and Mischa.”
Hannibal’s eyes narrowed, “I will not allow anything bad to happen to you or Mischa.”
“I’m not worried about me,” Will said, his voice getting louder.
“Will…”
Mischa looked up, “Hanni, what’s wrong?”
He smiled at her. “Nothing, mazasis. Nothing at all.”
She smiled and went back to her book as Hannibal squeezed Will’s hand.
“If they want to go after you,” Will started, putting Hannibal’s hand over his heart, “Remember that my heart beats for you. I can’t…”
Hannibal kissed him quiet and Will sniffled, pulling away, “I need to go bed. We need…baby, it’s time for bed.”
Hannibal said nothing and they all headed up, Will grabbing onto his arm as they walked leaning against him.
Both men walked Mischa to her room, Will stopping to let go of Hannibal as he kissed him quick saying, “Give us a minute, I’ll be right there.”
Hannibal frowned, “All right,” he kissed Mischa goodnight and left them, Will waiting until she was in her pajamas and under her comforter before he knelt down by the bed.
“I’m gonna wear your mommy’s crown for the pictures, baby.”
Mischa’s eyes lit up and she hugged him, “Hanni’s gonna be so…!” she started to say loudly but Will put his finger over her lips.
“It’s gonna be a surprise. Shh.”
Mischa giggled, nodding as Will took his finger away, “You’re gonna look so pretty.”
Will smiled, leaning in to kiss her cheek, “Not as pretty as you.”
Mischa curled up and looked at Will, her eyes closing as she spoke, “Mommy and Daddy would’ve liked you lots.”
Will swallowed, letting out a breath. “You think so?”
Mischa nodded, her eyes closed completely, “Lots and lots.”
Will ran his hand over her head and whispered, “Labanakt kudikis.”
He stood up and shut the door, nodding once to each of the guards and heading towards his and Hannibal’s own, acknowledging the guards at their door before going inside.
Hannibal was shirtless and wearing only his boxer briefs, sitting on the edge of the bed looking worried as Will came inside. The frown he gave made Will pause.
“What was that about?”
Will smiled, “Mischa and I can’t have our secrets?”
Hannibal frowned, “No.”
Will laughed, starting to unbutton his shirt as he turned his back to his husband. “You’ll find out soon.”
“Make it my birthday gift.”
Will paused, turning back to him as his shirt hung open. “Birthday?”
Hannibal smiled, “Yes, the day of my birth will be quite soon.”
Will glared at him. “You could have told me.”
Hannibal stood up, walking up to Will and taking Will’s shirt off his shoulders letting it fall as he caressed them slowly. “I am telling you now. If you had read your book more carefully…”
Will sighed as Hannibal kissed his chest, leaning in as he felt Hannibal start to unbutton his pants, “It has your birthday in there?”
Hannibal chuckled, “I have to be a certain age to be crowned, my thirty fifth birthday is the day of the coronation.”
Will’s hand came to his hair, “I didn’t know you were such an old man. I guess I should’ve asked more questions before crashing your wedding.”
Hannibal’s head came up, his mock glare making Will laugh. “You are only two years younger than I, tobulas.”
Will smiled, “I feel like I don’t know anything about you sometimes. Probably doesn’t deem well for our marriage.”
Hannibal kissed the edge of his mouth, lingering there as he mumbled, “I think some mystery will keep us occupied for quite some time.”
Will laughed as his pants fell around his ankles, stepping out of them and his shoes as he moved towards Hannibal’s waiting arms. “If you say so, I’m too tired to argue.”
Hannibal swayed slightly, “Too tired?”
Will smiled, pressing himself against Hannibal as he breathed, “Not that tired.”
He was gently directed onto his back, falling down to the bed as Hannibal lay over him.
“What would you like to know?” his prince asked, kissing down Will’s chest.
Will took in a breath and trembled under Hannibal’s lips, “I…I know you were in school before, what did…did you work…before…”
Hannibal lifted his head, frowning, “Why would I have to work? I was in classes.”
Will laughed, “You’re right, why would you?”
Hannibal tensed, “Does that make you feel differently towards me?”
Will touched his cheek, “No, not at all, I know you would’ve made a perfect chef if you’d been allowed to finish.”
Hannibal smiled, “Cooking was always one of my passions, though there was a time when I toyed with the idea of being a doctor. Helping put people back together again, better than before.”
Will nodded, “I can see you doing that. You did a good job with me, didn’t you?”
Hannibal blushed, kissing Will’s palm, “As you did with me as well, perfect Will.” Will sighed, “First kiss?”
Hannibal frowned. “I do not want to say.”
Will sat up on his elbows, “Alana.”
Hannibal nodded, “We were quite close as children.”
Will tried not to let it irk him, “It’s…understandable.”
Hannibal nuzzled his hand, “Yourself?”
Will sighed, “A girl named Molly, she moved away not long after.”
Hannibal looked surprised, “You are attracted to both men and women?”
Will smiled, “Does that surprise you?”
Hannibal frowned, “No, I was just unaware. Now I Will feel much less secure leaving you alone with Alana.”
Will laughed, “She’s married and so am I!” he pulled Hannibal down onto him, “Quite happily.”
Hannibal’s grin was wide as he asked, “Your first sexual experience?”
Will scooted up their bed till his head hit the pillow, laying back and relaxing, “Jimmy, he was…something.”
Hannibal frowned, “I do not need elaboration.”
Will grinned, kissing him quick, “You?”
Hannibal whispered into Will’s cheek, “His name was Marco. I do not remember much, we were quite intoxicated.”
Will sighed, “I think that’s enough of sex partner talk, it’s kinda making me want to punch someone. Preferably Marco and Alana.”
Hannibal smiled against his skin, “You wanted to know more of me and now we know more of each other.”
Will’s hand came to his hair and he nuzzled his cheek, “Now that we’ve totally lost the mood.”
Hannibal hummed, laying down beside him as he maneuvered the comforter over them both, curling into Will and sighing, “Which was entirely your doing.”
Will laughed, “Yeah, but it’s…I wanna know it all, you know? Everything.”
Hannibal’s breath evened out and Will moved to turn off the light by their bed, the room darkening completely as he snuggled closer to his husband drifting off not long after.
Will woke to an empty bed, rolling over into a cold spot and sighing as he felt around for Hannibal who was obviously not there. He opened his eyes and frowned, pulling himself out of bed and trudging along towards the bathroom to shower before changing into the first set of clothes he grabbed barely looking into the mirror as he headed for the stairs.
That was when he first heard her.
“….and this idiot, he ignores me when it’s not like he didn’t have my stupid ID…”
“I was unaware that she was…”
“Oh shut up, you knew my name and my ID was in your hand! It wasn’t…”
Will rushed down the stairs, suddenly wide awake as he rounded the corner and called out, “Bev?”
She squealed, running into his arms and kissing his cheeks, “Graham! I’m so happy you’re up! Your husband doesn’t want to listen to my crap and fire incompetent guards, but you can…”
Will frowned as she hugged him, hugging her back as he asked, “Who was the guard?”
Sam glared at her back. “Me. I mistook her for a fraud, I apologized multiple times and Ms. Katz does not seem to accept my apology.”
Bev pulled back from Will, scoffing, “Like I really buy that! You…”
Hannibal put his hand on Bev’s shoulder and his other on Sam’s chest. “Calm yourselves, please. It is quite early and my sister is still asleep.”
Bev sighed, “Fine. I’m starved and I don’t need to deal with this. Can you show me to my room?”
Will nodded and started to follow but Hannibal shook his head, “No, Will. I need to speak with you. Terri and Shalvi can show Beverly her room.”
The other guards walked off with Bev and Will let Hannibal pull out his seat at the dining room table, sitting down with a sigh before he asked, “You want to talk about Bev.”
Hannibal shook his head, “I do not wish to upset you, but Sam was attempting to inform me of an outburst at the airport in front of quite a few witnesses before Beverly…decided to take over.”
Sam cleared his throat, “I just thought she was a fanatic, I didn’t…it was a few weeks ago when I got the dog, I didn’t remember her face and it was covered anyway, she got upset and I…yeah.”
Will smiled, “So? Bev is Bev. She was eager to see me, I don’t see the problem.”
“If Beverly is going to be staying till the coronation, I would prefer if you could discuss decorum with her,” Hannibal said softly, raising a hand when Will attempted to interrupt, “I know that she is not royal, I know this. I just…Will, I would stand with you in any situation such as this but it would be even better to not have to at all.”
Will frowned, “It couldn’t have been that bad.”
Sam opened up his jacket and Will bit his lip to keep from laughing when he saw the brown stain on the front of it, “She threw her tea at me.”
Will looked away, nodding, “Okay.”
Hannibal seemed to notice his hard attempt at keeping a straight face and kissed Will to hide a laugh, smiling himself into the touch before breaking their kiss to whisper into his ear, “Restrain yourself.”
Will grinned, “No.”
They kissed a bit more before Mischa came calling, “Good morning! Look it’s Bevvy!” the kiss ending as both women came into view.
“I found her standing in my doorway with two puppies behind her, I couldn’t leave them here,” Bev laughed, “You have a houseful now, Will,” she grinned at them both, “I see it suits you.”
Will leaned on Hannibal, “It does, what’s been going on with you?”
She sat down on the opposite end of the table with Mischa beside her, “Nothin’ much, everyone is jealous I get to be here you should’ve seen Sheryl’s face.”
Will couldn’t hold back a grin as he tightened his arm on Hannibal’s his prince smirking as Will leaned in closer to him, “Someone from the shelter?”
Will kissed his cheek, “The one who kept hitting on you.”
“I do not recall that happening,” Hannibal admitted, frowning.
Will turned his cheek into a kiss and whispered, “Good,” against his lips.
Mischa sighed, “They kiss SO much, all the time. And loud kisses that…”
“MISCHA!” Will snapped, Bev covering her mouth to drown out her laughter and Will’s cheeks reddened, “Bev doesn’t want to her about that.”
Hannibal chuckled, “I believe she does, do you not Beverly?”
Bev wiped tears from her eyes, “I’m good. I have a VERY good imagination and can guess that my room has just as thin of walls as Mischa’s.”
Will glared at her and Hannibal kissed his cheek. “Perhaps it is time to move into the other wing?”
His whisper was quiet enough for the two of them and Will said nothing though he started considering it. Most of the castle was empty, some wings used for the guards and staff and though he had no idea where Bev’s room was going to be he guessed close by.
“They’re whispering secrets, Mischa, what’s to be done about that?” Bev said, her eyes twinkling, “We can make up some secrets too?”
Mischa grinned, “I’m REALLY good at keeping secrets,” she looked at Will who smiled and noticed Hannibal frowning at the gesture.
“You are,” Will said, “Is it time for breakfast?”
Almost as if they were waiting for his approval, there was a sudden influx of staff with food brimming around them and Will saw Hannibal still frowning. He took his husband’s hand and squeezed it, “This is a good secret, my prince, I promise.”
Hannibal kissed his hand, “I do not mean to be petulant, I just do not…I thought we were against keeping things hidden ever again.”
Will served himself and said, “This is just between me and your sister, it’s a birthday surprise for you.”
“I do not enjoy being surprised.”
Will laughed, “Everyone says that until they actually are.”
Hannibal smiled slightly but was quieter than normal throughout breakfast, the chatting mostly between Will and Bev who caught up more about his ex coworkers.
“Matt came by,” she said as they were done eating, sipping juice and coffee with Mischa having left to her lessons.
Hannibal got stiffer beside him as Will said, “Did he?”
Bev sipped her coffee and smiled, “I have the wedding photos printed out behind the counter, so he saw them when he came in.”
Hannibal relaxed and Will’s arm moved to his back, “They let you do that?”
“Oh Mr. Graves totally asked me to do it. It brought tons of people in, he called newspapers to gush about you,” she laughed, “Matt was stone faced and got his pitbull, barely saying two words.”
Hannibal lifted his and Will’s hands up to the table, playing with Will’s ring, “I take it you said words for him?”
She grinned, “A few. I said, ‘How’s your love life, Matt?’ and he just gave me a death glare.”
Hannibal kissed Will’s hand, saying nothing as Will offered, “You know…about the airport?”
Her face deflated, “Oh god, it totally wasn’t my fault!,” she pointed at Sam, “It was his! I…”
Will shook his head, “I know, it’s just…you’ll be at the coronation, it’s …just tone it down. Please. Sam’s,” he grinned at the guard, “He’s a nice guy when you get to know him.”
Sam nodded and smiled, Will turning back to roll her eyes. “Fine. Sorry.”
“Apology accepted,” Sam said, “It was my own fault and I apologize again. It will not happen again, believe me I’ll never forget you.”
Will laughed as Bev blushed, looking away, “Shut up, Will.”
After breakfast Will showed her around the castle, the show making it slightly less enjoyable but she noticed his growing unease as they walked.
“What’s up?”
Will shook his head, “It’s almost time for husband class.”
Her eyes narrowed, “Can I come?”
Will shook his head, “It’s bad enough I’m a lowly commoner, I doubt it would look good if I had my friend there defending me,” he sighed, “I mean, she’s nice and everything I just…it makes me self conscious again and I promised myself I wouldn’t question this. Not anymore.”
Bev took his hand and squeezed, “I won’t let you, Graham. Lecter. I…fuck it, you’re Graham,” she laughed, “You’re the best thing that ever happened to this family, you know?”
Will smiled, his eyes wet, “Thank you,” he reached out and hugged her, “I missed you.”
“Missed you too, Will.”
Sam cleared his throat behind them, “It’s time.”
Will let out a breath and nodded, turning back the way they came, “Duty calls.”
“You got this, Will. Okay?”
“Okay.” |
I was naked, sitting in the desk chair in my hotel room in Atlanta with come running out of my pussy. I was here for a seminar on changes going on in tax and accounting law. My husband, Ed, had given me permission to pursue what was my biggest sexual fantasy, making love to a black man, and I had jumped at the chance to do it. I had done it all night and loved every minute of it.
I had met Greg the day before when I first arrived at the hotel for the seminar. He was staying in the room right across the hall from me. We had dinner together and when we went upstairs for the night, he had propositioned me. Well, I guess I was the one who propositioned him really, but I said it kind of jokingly. I had told him goodnight and went into my room to call home after that.
I told my husband about meeting Greg and his offer for more (I didn't tell him it was really my idea) and he had told me to go ahead and do it. Ed knew this was a huge fantasy for me. I called Greg and went over to see him after that.
I spent pretty much the rest of the night with the most enormous, beautiful cock I have ever seen inside me, and it was a black cock! It was the most fantastic night of sex I have ever experienced. The combination of Greg's size, the taboo of fucking a black man, and the thrill of cheating on my husband and letting another man come inside me had brought me to orgasm after orgasm. Greg had pumped so much come into me that it was running down my legs now. I was sitting on the vinyl desk chair to avoid messing up the bed or the sofa. The covers on my bed had never even been turned down. What little sleeping I had done during the night had been in Greg's bed with him and his big cock.
When I turned on my phone, I had several messages from Ed asking me not to go through with it. He had second thoughts and didn't think he could handle it. I called him and lied, told him that I was just talking dirty on the phone with him last night and that I would never sleep with another man. I think he bought it, but then again, he knew how big of a fantasy this was for me. We had been talking about it for years.
I was trying to figure out what to do now. On one hand, my husband had retracted my permission to play around. I probably would have still had sex with Greg even if Ed hadn't told me it was alright, but having permission had made me brave enough to do it immediately. On the other hand, or in my pussy anyhow, I had several loads of come from a fantastic night of sex. There was no way that I could stop myself from doing it with him again, it just felt too good. I decided that this was just going to have to be my little secret. Greg was only at the conference for one more day and if he wanted it, my pussy was his.
I took a shower and got ready for the days classes. I wore my red wool suit. The air conditioning made it cool in the meeting rooms, and besides, I needed the jacket to hide my nipples. They had been as hard as rocks ever since I met Greg and are big enough to be visible from across the room.
As I went out my door, the lady from the room next to mine was coming out of her door too. We rode down together in the elevator and she got off at the second floor, same as me. I asked if she was here for the seminar. She was. Her name was Angie, a CPA from Cleveland. We chatted on the way into the hall and then parted ways.
The 9:00 session went by quickly. I already had a pretty good understanding of the requirements that came out of Sarbanes-Oxley legislation. The facilitator announced that the 10-12 session was geared towards CPA's who worked in the municipal field. He said if you weren't in that field and didn't expect to be in the future, you didn't have to stay. We were, of course, welcome to stay if we wanted to learn more but if not, we were free until after lunch, at 1:00pm. I decided that two hours with Greg's cock inside me beat two hours of accounting class that I didn't need and went looking for him. I met Greg outside the conference room. I was worried that he wouldn't want to see me again, now that he'd already had me. I knew the answer as soon as I saw him. It looked like he was already hard; the bulge in his pants was almost obscene.
Greg kind of hinted around about sneaking upstairs for a while. I said, in an uncharacteristically bold fashion for me, "Greg, after what we did last night, you don't need to waste any time beating around my bush. You can have me any time, any way, and any place you want." I told him he could do anything he wanted to me, just tell me.
Greg said "we should go up stairs then, we're wasting time."
As we were headed for the elevator, I saw Angie standing not far away. I got the idea she might have overheard our conversation. I blushed a little and made a mental note to be more discreet as I fondled Greg's hard cock through his slacks while we were waiting for the elevator. I couldn't wait to feel it inside me again.
When we got upstairs, the maids were in Greg's room. I saw one of them holding up the cum-stained bottom sheet from his bed as we overheard them giggling about what kind of a party must have gone on in here last night. We quickly ducked into my room and put out the do not disturb sign.
Once we were inside, Greg wanted to take my clothes off. He said he wanted to unwrap his present. It was kind of sexy having my new lover strip me so that he could fuck me. As he removed my panties, he told me not to wear them any more while I was with him. He wanted my pussy naked and available under my skirt. As he stripped, I saw that his cock was fully erect and just as big and beautiful as I remembered. I still couldn't wait to feel it inside me again, but I was afraid I wouldn't be able to handle it. He was so big it really was a challenge, and he had fucked me for several hours last night. I wondered if my pussy would be a little sore from all that attention, but it didn't really matter, I was still going to do it. We got in bed and cuddled for a few minutes.
Greg asked if since we had two and a half hours, would I mind if he wanted to come in me twice. He said we should fuck fast and hard until we came, and then slow down, take our time, and make love the second time. I told him I didn't care how many times he came in me, but I was worried he wouldn't be able to do it twice after what we had already done last night and again that morning. I knew that Ed sure wouldn't be able to get it up twice this soon.
Greg said that he had that under control. He had called a friend of his, who was also attending the seminar, after I left this morning. His friend had told him about using erectile dysfunction pills, and Greg had borrowed some from him. I rubbed my hairy pussy as I told him I knew for a fact that he didn't have any problems with erectile dysfunction. Greg said his friend had told him that in addition to helping with ED, they made him like a teenager again; he could get it up several times a night. He said that between the pills and the fact that it was me he was making love with, he would probably be hard all the way through until tomorrow morning. I smiled and said "I guess I'm getting cummed in twice."
Greg told me to roll over on my stomach. He spread my legs and got between them and rubbed his cockhead on my pussy lips from behind. My pussy was dripping wet, both from the night before and from anticipating the return Greg's cock, so it was easy for him to get started into me. It really was breathtaking how large he was. His head stretched my lips wide as he entered me and began to penetrate me. He slowly worked it all the way in and let me adjust to him again. I felt his huge balls against me when he was all the way in. His cock filled me completely and banged up against my cervix from this angle too. "Oh Greg," I said, arching my back to press my bottom back against him, "I still just can't believe how big you are, you just fill me up completely. I'm so happy I met you." Greg told me I was definitely his favorite part of the seminar as he pushed his big cock into me as hard as he could, his head pressing against my womb and his balls grinding against my clit.
Once I was ready, Greg fucked me. He fucked me hard, and kept fucking me just like he said he was going to do. I couldn't do anything from this position but lay there and enjoy it. His big cock pounded away inside me, stimulating every nerve ending in my pussy, making me his slut again. I couldn't wait to feel him come in me again. After a few minutes, I sensed that he was close to another orgasm. Greg pulled out and had me to turn over on my back, he said he loved kissing me while he was cumming in me. He got on me and we kissed deeply as he fucked just a few strokes before he came inside me. I felt spurt after spurt of his seed shooting into me, joining what was left from the night before. Greg lay on top of me and didn't move for a minute after he finished.
Greg kissed me and told me how great it felt cumming in me again, and that he was sorry that I hadn't come this time. His cock was still inside me and I could feel it softening as we kissed. I told him that the feel of his big cock pumping in and out of me and the thrill of feeling his come shooting into me were so good that I didn't mind waiting. "Anyway," I said, "that one was for you. I still get another chance, and I'm sure I'll come this time." As I felt Greg's cock starting to harden inside my pussy, I got ready for my turn.
"I was afraid you wouldn't want to see me again today," I told him.
"You must be crazy," he said, "I want you every chance I get. What made you think I wouldn't want to be with you again?"
"Lots of guys are like that, after they've had you they don't want any more to do with you." I told him I didn't want to push myself on him if he wasn't interested any more. His cock continuing to expand inside me told me he was still interested. It just felt so good.
I told him about Ed changing his mind, that he didn't want me to have sex with another man. "And you still decided to fuck me again," he said?
"I told him that I was just talking dirty with him, that I hadn't fucked you. I'm just going to have to keep this secret from Ed," I said, "it just feels too good for me to stop. I need this big cock of yours inside me as much as I can get it, and I need all of your come inside me."
We kissed for a couple of minutes until Greg's cock reached full size, stretching my little pussy as it grew, and then started to fuck again. We fucked nice and slow for the next hour. I still just couldn't get over how good his big cock felt in me, it was just amazing and I had two noisy orgasms while he fucked and fucked inside my pussy, getting to know every inch of me. I was moaning and telling Greg how good his cock felt for pretty much the whole time. Greg started to fuck faster and his cock swelled even more. I knew he was getting close so I wrapped my legs around him again. I loved resting my heels on his firm butt as it moved up and down, driving his cock into me time after time. I fucked back as he slammed his big cock against my womb, fucking as deep as he could. We both moaned and kissed as we came together. I shuddered and shook from my own orgasm as I felt his cock shooting more of his juices into me. I was completely hooked on this, it felt so good to feel his come pouring into my body, making me his.
Greg lay on top of me again as we recovered from our mutual climax. We kissed for a few minutes as his cock softened again. I said "I told you I would come this time, I win 3-2." He said I could win all I wanted, as long as he could keep fucking me. I reminded him that I had promised to fuck him any time, any way, and any place he wanted and I was a person who kept my promises. Greg rolled off of me and we laid together, cuddling and kissing for a few more minutes.
I was holding Greg's big black cock in my hand and thinking how unbelievable it was that it would fit in my little pussy, but how good it felt when it got there. "You know," I told him, "your cock has been inside me for several hours now, but I've only seen it a couple of times. It really is beautiful."
"You're right," he said, "I've had it buried inside your pussy pretty much continuously since you came over last night."
"Yeah," I said, "I'm being such a slut." I told him that normally I would be as sore as hell from fucking this much. But, the thrill of making love with a black man, the size of his cock, and the added lubrication from letting him come in me so many times was keeping my pussy so dripping wet that I could have fucked forever. "You know, you are fucking parts of me that have never been fucked before. Nobody has ever filled me like you do."
I felt Greg's cock starting to harden again as he mentioned that we still had 40 minutes before we had to go back down stairs, if I was interested I could have it a little more. I really needed to take a shower, I was covered with sweat and smelled like sex, but it just felt so good that I didn't care. I told him I was game if he was.
I straddled Greg and lined up his cock with my pussy again. It went in easy, but was so big that it still took my breath away when he entered my pussy. I fucked up and down, and tried to concentrate on squeezing my pussy on the upstrokes. I still just couldn't do it; my pussy was stretched so far that I just couldn't get a grip on him. I fucked this way for about ten minutes, and then had the most wonderful orgasm, the longest lasting orgasm I can remember having. I collapsed on Greg's chest and caught my breath for a minute while he explored my mouth with his tongue. "Oh Greg, that felt so good," I said as I attempted to catch my breath. "Please don't ever stop fucking me."
Greg rolled me over onto my back without removing his cock from me. I wrapped my legs around him again and rested my heels on his butt as he drove big, beautiful cock into me, slamming it into my cervix on every stroke. He kept slowing down, not wanting to come yet. We wanted to fuck for every minute that we possibly could. When it was time, we sped up, fucking faster and harder until we both exploded again. I couldn't believe how much come Greg was pumping into me this time, it felt like a big fat garden hose got turned on in me. We were learning each other's rhythms very well, and the sex was getting better every time we fucked.
We laid there for a minute and kissed while Greg's cock softened inside me again. He told me that he wanted his little slut back in her room and naked immediately after our last session ended at 4:30, she was going to get some more black cock in her pussy. "That would be big black cock in my little blonde pussy," I said, "and I'll be here waiting for you." I felt very empty when he pulled his cock out of me so we could get dressed.
My pussy was just a mess. Greg's come was running out of me and going down my legs again. He still didn't want me to wear panties, so I just cleaned up as good as I could. I was still a mess; we had fucked for too long and didn't have time for a shower. He said he liked it that way and he was going to keep making it that way. I liked that idea, but hoped nobody sat too close to me, they might think I had just been fucked.
As we were going out the door, I was telling Greg that I won 5 times to 3. Angie was coming out of her room at the same time and headed off to the elevator. The maid came out of Greg's room while we were flipping the sign on the door over to "clean room please." While walking to the elevator, I was thinking that when the maid gets to my room, she's going to know who had the party in Greg's room last night. She had a similar mess to clean up in my room now.
The elevator was just getting to our floor as we got there. We rode down in the car with Angie. She and I were both blushing. Her room and mine were connected, and I knew that she could probably hear Greg and me through the doors. I had been pretty loud for the last couple of hours. There was no doubt that she knew that we had been fucking.
We went into the banquet hall and got in the buffet line. While I was dishing up my salad, I felt a drop of Greg's come slide out of my pussy. I looked down and saw a big drop on the floor. I told Greg to look down. He asked if that was what he thought it was. When I said yes, he told me not to worry; he would put some more in there later. I said "I bet you will." I couldn't wait.
I sat through the afternoon sessions in a puddle of Greg's come. I tried to concentrate on the information being discussed, but my mind kept going back to that big brown cock slamming into my pussy, time after time. It was very sexy, knowing that I was his property, and that he was going to use me all night long again tonight.
When the last class ended at 4:30, I went straight to my room. I took all my clothes off like Greg said and waited for him. While I was waiting, I opened the door that connected to Angie's room. I saw that the door on her side was wide open and her desk chair was sitting there. Now I knew for sure that she had been listening to us.
The maid had already cleaned my room. It was just like my pussy, ready for more action. I laughed when I read the little note from the maid saying "we hope you are enjoying your stay with us." I knew that she was on to me too.
Greg arrived a few minutes later. He took off all his clothes and we got into my bed. Greg was already hard and he put his cock right into me, telling me how much he had missed my pussy. I told him what a turn-on it had been sitting through the afternoon session in his come, knowing that I was his property and I was his for tonight too. I think Greg listened while I was talking, but he was mostly concentrating on slipping his big black cock inside me again. Once inside, he just started fucking immediately. In and out, time after time, he fucked as he sought his next orgasm. It was just like this morning, this first time was for him and I was his fuck-toy. He really fucked me hard this time, not stopping until he came deep in my pussy, groaning as he collapsed on me and pumped more of his cream into my depths. I loved watching him come as I held him and felt his juices shooting into me. I just hoped that I was bringing him as much pleasure as he was giving me.
We laid there for a minute resting while Greg's cock softened again. I kissed him and told him how much I enjoyed making love with him. He said that after we made love again, he was going to take me out to dinner. After dinner, he said, we had to make a stop. "What for," I asked? He said we had to get a few things because he wanted to see just how serious I was about letting him do anything he wanted to me. A sudden twinge of terror shot through my body as I comprehended what he was saying. I immediately thought of my butt.
Greg's cock hardened inside me again. I told him that I just loved feeling it swell inside me, it was such an amazing feeling. We shared a nice, slow fuck for the next hour, Greg's cock plunging into me time after time. His stamina was amazing. I had gone months without as much fucking as I was getting just today. I loved it but kept losing my concentration as I thought of what was coming later. It wouldn't be easy if it was my ass that he wanted, but I would give it to him. I was his for the night and he could use me any way he wanted. I wrapped my legs around him again as he fucked harder, fucking both of us to another orgasm. Greg's orgasm was enormous! I felt his come spraying the inside of my pussy as he came and it was amazing. I think he too was getting excited about what he had planned for later.
We laid there for a minute and caught our breath again. I told Greg that I loved those ED pills so much that I would even fuck the guy who invented them just to thank him. Greg told me that was the hardest he ever remembered coming. We kissed and cuddled while his cock once again softened inside me. I told him I didn't know if I would be able to live without him and his big cock when he left tomorrow. He said not to worry about tomorrow; we still had plans for tonight.
I told Greg that I was very worried about later because I thought I knew what he wanted. He said don't worry about it, you'll be fine. "But," he said, "don't bother arguing about it because it's going to happen. You promised." He was really starting to take charge, and I liked it.
Greg pulled his soft cock out of me and got up to get dressed. I laid there and thought about my poor little butthole and his huge cock. Why can't I keep my mouth shut, I thought?
I got up and dressed. I had to wear a new outfit, the one from earlier was too come stained to wear again. Greg still wouldn't let me wear panties, so my pussy was still leaking come. I tried wearing a little extra perfume to cover up the unmistakable smell of sex.
We went out to a restaurant in Greg's rental car and had a quick bite to eat. Greg sat on the same side of the booth with me and fondled and kissed me all through dinner. His hands were all over my breasts and under my skirt, it was quite apparent that we were lovers. Everyone in the restaurant knew that I was his property, and what I would be doing for the night. One particular couple near us kept watching with a look of complete disgust and talking about us. I didn't care, I didn't know anyone here so it was still just my little secret. I was cheating on my husband with a black man and there was nothing they could do about it. I really was enjoying being Greg's slut.
I had a couple glasses of wine, hoping that it would help me relax, help me to survive the invasion that I knew was coming. Greg didn't want us to drink too much though. He said I needed to be sober for the rest of the night's festivities; he didn't want me to forget anything. I was pretty sure I would never forget it, but I was getting pretty excited.
When we got back in the car, we kissed for a few minutes and talked about how much fun it had been putting on the show in the restaurant. Greg hand was under my skirt playing with my naked pussy, fueling my desire even more. I was so turned on that my pussy was just gushing, I needed some more black cock right then. We were parked around the side of the building, and only one other car was near us. I told Greg I couldn't wait any longer, I had to have him inside me as I unfastened his belt.
Greg was once again rock hard as I pulled his pants down around his ankles. I held onto my prize as I climbed across him, straddling his legs. I lifted my skirt and rubbed the head of his cock along my slit, preparing to slide him into my well used but eager pussy. Greg moved his seat all the way back and reclined it a little as I took his wonderful cock inside my sopping wet pussy again. I hadn't made love in public in a long time, and had forgotten what a turn-on it is. The thrill of cheating, fucking a black man, fucking bareback, and the chance of getting caught fucking in public all combined to bring me to a mind numbing orgasm as we fucked.
Greg opened my blouse and got my breasts out so that he could nurse on them as I was riding him. He sucked and nibbled my tits while I fucked away on his big cock. I rode Greg's cock for quite a while, right there in the parking lot, and was quite proud of myself when he started squirming around, indicating that he was close to his orgasm. I was going to get another load of his come. I rode up and down on his big shaft, rubbing my tits in his face and managed to come again as Greg had another big orgasm inside me.
As he was cumming in me, I saw the disapproving couple from the restaurant looking as they were getting into the only other car that was on this side of the building. Pretty much could have bet on that, couldn't you? The window was down a little, and I was sure they could hear us moaning as we came, his potent sperm pumping into my white pussy. I smiled at them and went back to kissing Greg while he finished cumming in me. Greg pulled my skirt up, and I knew my naked bottom was exposed to them as we fucked. I thought that he had done it on purpose, showing them his prize.
I stayed on top of Greg while his cock softened, kissing him as we talked about what a turn-on it was to make love in public. He had also seen the other couple come out to get in their car. Seeing them had made his orgasm even stronger, knowing that they didn't like his black cock fucking my white pussy. He said he had been extra noisy so they would know he was cumming. I said, "Maybe they didn't like it, but I sure did. You came really hard that time. And you intentionally showed them my bare bottom."
"I was already pretty turned on from teasing them inside the restaurant," he said, "having them see and hear me cumming in you was too much. I did want them to see your beautiful bottom, so there would be no question in their minds that we were really fucking. I just wish that they could have seen that I came inside you unprotected, that my black seed is inside you right now trying to breed you, trying to give you a little brown baby. That would have served those racist pigs right."
I rose up and dislodged his by now soft cock from my pussy and moved back to the passenger seat. I held up my skirt and showed him my hairy pussy as I said, "I would have shown them if you wanted me to, showed them my little blonde pussy with all your wonderful black sperm swimming around inside it." Greg smiled at this and told me it was time to get going, we had things to do. I was going back and forth between dreading what was about to happen and not being able to wait. I wanted to please Greg as much as I possibly could, and I wanted more of his cock.
On the way back to the hotel, Greg pulled into a drug store. He said I needed to buy some things. We held hands as we went into the store, not caring who knew we were together. Greg led me into one of the aisles and had me pick up three disposable enemas and a jar of petroleum jelly. I said I wanted to get one more thing, and went to the aisle with sewing supplies. I picked up a measuring tape, the plastic kind that just rolls up. I wanted to see just how big his cock really was. I blushed like crazy as he stood behind me and pulled up my skirt and ran his hands all over my bare bottom while I was paying for the items. There was no doubt that the lady at the register knew what we were going to do. She looked at me like I was the biggest slut in the world. Really, I was, but I didn't care. I was so turned on by this time that my pussy was just gushing, our juices running freely out of me and down my naked thighs.
When we got back up to our floor, Greg said he needed to take a few minutes to call home. I needed to check in with Ed too, so I opened the door to my room. He told me not to forget my little bag of supplies when I came over. I asked if he wanted me to use the enemas on myself before I came over. "No," he said, "I want to take care of that myself, just bring them with you when you come over."
I went into my room and stripped naked again. The entire inside of my skirt was soaked with our juices, so I put one more outfit in the dirty clothes bag. I was thinking that there was no way that I could take these clothes to my normal dry cleaners when I got home.
As I passed the mirror, I noticed that Greg had sucked a big hickey on my breast while we were fucking in the car. I was going to have to have a hard time coming up with a cover story for that, I thought.
I sat in the desk chair and called Ed again, my fingers running through my come matted pussy hair while we talked. We talked for a couple of minutes about how our days went, and then Ed told me that Kate had called. Kate was my best friend, and it was her story about taking a black lover that had gotten me fantasizing about doing it myself. I had sent her a text saying that I had quite a story to tell her. I told him I would give her a call.
Ed told me that he was sorry about last night. He thought about it all day and it wasn't fair for him to prevent me from experiencing my fantasy. We had been talking about doing this for years, and he had decided that he was ok with it. I told him we would have to talk it over more before we did anything that we couldn't change. I didn't like continuing to lie to him, but I still didn't want to hurt him.
Ed said "no, it might be years before another opportunity like this comes up. I want you to go ahead and have sex with your new friend if you get the chance." I asked him again if he was sure he meant it this time. He said "yes, I thought about it all day long, and I am comfortable with it now."
"So you're absolutely sure?"
"Yes, not only do you have my permission, but I want you to do it and I want to hear all about it when you get home. Actually, it turns me on so much that I've been hard ever since we first talked about it."
"Ed," I said, "I just said what I did this morning so you wouldn't feel bad. Greg's cock was inside me ten minutes after we hung up last night." Ed said he thought I had probably already done it. He knew how long I had wanted to screw a black man and he had given me his permission. He didn't think I could have stopped myself last night.
"So how was it," he asked?
I told him how wonderful it had been, how big Greg's cock was, and how much he filled my pussy, stretching me as he banged away right against my womb. I thanked him for being such a good husband, and letting me experience it. "So you just fucked him once last night," Ed asked?
"No," I said, "we made love four times last night, and six more times already today." Ed asked how we got a condom on a cock as big as I had said Greg's was. "We haven't been using condoms," I said, "You know I have never liked fucking with a rubber. Besides, his big cock is so beautiful, I just had to feel the real thing inside me. It feels so good. Is that alright too Honey, and is it ok if he comes in me too? Greg just loves coming in me, he loves pumping his black sperm into my little blonde pussy."
"This really isn't fair," Ed said, "I'm so hard it feels like my cock is going to pop and you're not here to do anything about it. You can plan on being busy this weekend."
I told Ed how exciting it was letting another man come in me, especially a black man. I described how big Greg's balls were and how much come he shot each time, and how I could feel it shooting right into my womb. "I wish you were her now, so you could see my pussy with all his come running out of me," I said. "I think he's trying to get me pregnant."
"You know you won't get pregnant." Ed knew I had my tubes tied after our daughter was born; we only wanted to have one child.
"I know, but I didn't tell Greg. He's working extra hard trying to put a brown baby in me, and I'm enjoying all the extra effort. You just wouldn't believe how much we've fucked."
Ed listened as I told him the rest of what I had been up to. He really liked the story about fucking in the car. He wished he could have watched us and seen the looks on the other couple's faces. I told him about the pills, and how well they worked. He said he had been wondering how this guy had fucked so much. He said he would see his doctor tomorrow and get some for himself; they would help with his plans for me when I got home. He already seemed to want me more than he had in years. He also got pretty excited when I told him Greg was going to have anal sex with me later that night. Ed said he was looking forward to hearing the details of that, how I handled a cock that big in my bottom. He also said that he would be ass fucking me this weekend too, so don't get too sore.
"I don't know if my bottom will be recovered by this weekend," I said, "I'm not exaggerating the size of Greg's cock. From the way he stretches my pussy, I would guess I'm going to be sore for a while after he fucks my ass."
"Well," he said, "I'll give you time to recover if I absolutely have to, but I want your ass this weekend too."
"We'll see how it goes," I said. "If it's at all possible, I'll save some butt for you." I told him how much I loved him and thanks again for being such a wonderful husband, letting me have an experience like this. "I don't think I'm going to be able to stop when I get home, you know," I said, "stop having sex with black men that is. I hope that's alright with you."
"We'll work it out," Ed said, "I love you more now than I ever have, and can't wait to see you."
"We have to say good night now," I said, "I have a promise to keep. I love you too and I'll see you in a couple of days."
I was trying to decide what clothes to put on to go across the hall to Greg's room. I hadn't brought enough with me to keep messing them up at this rate. Then I thought about a scene from a movie I had seen that I had always thought was sexy. I would just go across the hall naked. I called Greg and told him to open his door. I picked up my bag of supplies and the key card to my room and went to my door. I looked as I passed the connecting room door. Sorry about that Angie, I thought, you won't get to listen any more tonight.
I opened the door and looked out. Greg was standing in his open door. His eyes went wide open as he watched me walk out, close my door and check that it had latched, then walk across the hall and into his room naked. I was getting pretty comfortable with being naked, and men seemed to like it pretty well too. I sure liked what happened to me every time I was naked for Greg.
Greg put out the "Do not disturb" sign and locked his door. He told me that my walking across the hall naked was the sexiest thing he had ever seen. I told him thanks, I had seen it in a movie once and had always wanted to do it, and anyhow, this was the outfit he seemed to like seeing me in most. He said he thought he had seen the same movie. The scene had turned him on then, but nothing like now, and my birthday suit was his favorite outfit.
Greg took the bag of supplies and went over to his desk chair. He put the bag on the desk and sat down, then told me to come lay across his lap. As I lay across his legs, I wondered just what was up. He rubbed and squeezed my bare bottom and told me he had wanted it as soon as he had seen it. He asked me if I had been a bad girl. I said that I had kind of been a slut lately. He said he thought I needed to be punished. This was not what I expected, but was another little fantasy of mine too. I agreed with him, I should be punished for the way I had been acting.
Greg started to spank my bottom. First he spanked me lightly for a couple of minutes. It was so sexy! Then he started spanking me a little harder. I laid there while he was spanking me and thought about the changes in my life over the past twenty-four hours. I had never been a prude, I had about thirty other lovers before I met Ed, but this was quite over the top for me. I was lying naked over a black man's lap, with my pussy full of his come, while he spanked my bare bottom. He was spanking me for being a slut and fucking him so much, and when he got done he was going to fuck my ass. I couldn't wait to tell Kate all of this, she was going to be so jealous. After another couple minutes of spanking, my bottom was starting to heat up pretty good. It still felt awfully sexy though, and his still being fully dressed and my being naked just added to the kinkiness of the situation. I was kind of embarrassed, but I loved just letting Greg be in charge, letting him have his way with me.
Greg asked if I was ok. I said I was, but I was getting awfully wet. He asked if I had learned my lesson. I said no, I was going to continue my slutty ways, I was just having too much fun. He said he thought I needed more, and I was going to need it a lot harder if I was going to learn anything. I told him I thought it might help, but that I intended to keep being a slut for the rest of the night anyhow.
Greg spanked my bottom a little harder now. He was only using his hand, but he was hitting my bottom hard enough that it hurt. I tried to clear my mind completely, concentrating on nothing but my bottom, and Greg's hand spanking me. I wanted to give myself to him completely, if this was what he wanted to do, I was going to do my best to accept it. Besides, I figured it was nothing compared to the pain that was coming next, when I would be accepting his huge cock as it entered my ass. The spanking hurt, but not bad enough that he couldn't continue spanking for a long time. He spanked and spanked, covering every inch of my bottom with his blows before he stopped. My bottom was on fire and I was crying a little bit, but my pussy was just dripping wet. I completely loved it, and was as turned on as I've ever been. I was definitely going to have to add an occasional spanking to my list of activities.
Greg rubbed and played with my bottom for a few minutes while I finished crying. I remembered what else was in store for it when he stopped rubbing and opened one of the enema packages. Greg pushed the nozzle of the enema bottle into my anus and squeezed the contents into my bowels. The only time I had ever had an enema before was when I had my baby. This was completely different, and very kinky. A black man was cleaning me out so he could have sex in my butt and I couldn't wait. He put the empty bottle in the trash and continued to rub my bottom for a few minutes. I thought about the maid finding that tomorrow and was even more embarrassed. She would know that someone got butt fucked here tonight, and she would also probably know that it was me. He told me that he wanted to spank my bottom just as soon as he had seen it, but was afraid I wouldn't be into it. I told him that I loved it, it was something else that I fantasized about. By this time I needed to use the bathroom pretty bad, so he told me to go ahead and empty myself out and then get back over his lap.
I hurried in to use the bathroom and then laid right back down across his legs. He inserted the next enema nozzle into me and emptied it. I could feel the cool liquid entering me. After I had used the bathroom again, he squeezed the contents of the last enema bottle into me. He rubbed my bottom for a few minutes, telling me how beautiful it looked with a nice bright pink color to it, and then sent me back to the toilet. He told me to wash off my bottom this time and then assume my position again.
As I lay back across his lap, Greg opened the jar of petroleum jelly. He used quite a bit of it as he lubed up my butthole then started loosening me up with his fingers. First he pushed one finger slowly into my hole and let me get used to it. Even his finger was big! Then he stroked it in and out a few times before adding another finger inside me. After he had worked up to three fingers inside me, he told me it was time for him to have some fun and for me to keep my promises. He told me to go lie on the bed, face down.
Greg undressed and stood next to the bed as he lubed up his cock. I trembled with anticipation as I watched him greasing up his big cock, thinking about where it was about to go. It was fully hard now, and I was scared again. There was just no way that his massive cock could fit in my ass. He got in the bed and on top of me and rubbed his cockhead against my butthole. Then he got up and got one of the pillows off the couch. I lifted up and he put the pillow under my hips, supporting my tummy off the bed and giving him better access to his next destination, my asshole.
He rubbed his slippery cockhead against my anus, slowly working it open, a little bit at a time. I gasped for air as he began to push. He pushed in a fraction of an inch further each time, pulling out and rubbing before his next push, in and out, in and out, loosening the outer orifice and slowly stretching my inner sphincter muscles, allowing his cock to slowly enter me. He kept pushing and I screamed when his cockhead slipped into me, stretching my asshole wide open. He stopped pushing, but he didn't take it out this time. He told me I had to calm down, and not to cry out any more. We didn't want anyone calling security about a woman screaming. He told me I needed to relax, he would go slowly, but he was not pulling it out any more. He said that his cock was going all the way in my ass and he was going to fuck me and he was not going to stop until he came, just like I said he could do. Then he whispered in my ear, "Unless you tell me to stop. If it hurts too much, tell me."
I tried to relax, but tears still streamed down my face as Greg started working his cock in and out of my ass, pushing it in a little further on each stroke and stretching my sphincter muscles unbelievably wide open. The pain was almost unbearable, but I was determined not to let him down again. Finally, the thickest part of his cock was past my asshole. There were still another six inches to go, but the hardest part was done. When he started to pull back out, I asked him to stop. I asked him to just keep that thickest part of his shaft inside me until I could get used to it, but that it was ok to go ahead and go deeper.
Greg pushed the rest of his cock into my ass. One long, slow stroke and his balls were resting on my pussy. I gasped, but did not cry out. His cock felt like a baseball bat shoved up my butt and I thought I could feel the end of it inside me up between my breasts. He lay on top of me and kissed the side of my face and neck, but didn't move his cock while I adjusted to the intrusion. I concentrated on relaxing and not squeezing my sphincter muscles.
I smiled as I thought of where I was, naked and face down on this beautiful black man's bed, with him laying on top of me balls deep in my ass. It was such a sexy feeling, he dwarfed me in size and I was powerless to stop him from doing as he pleased to me, but I trusted him completely. I couldn't have given myself to him any more totally. Slowly, my asshole started to relax and the pain began to subside. I was quite proud of myself at having taken his whole cock in my bottom.
After a few minutes I told Greg I was ready, he could fuck me. He started slowly, fucking in and out of my ass. He would pull all the way out, his big cockhead at my anus, and then slowly push all the way back in, his balls slamming against my pussy. The thickest part of his shaft still made me gasp every time it passed through my orifice. It was starting to become pretty enjoyable for me by this time. I could never come from it, but I loved living up to my promise that he could do anything he wanted to me, and I loved every minute of bringing Greg pleasure.
He fucked my ass for quite a while, well over an hour, speeding up until he almost came, and then slowing down so he wouldn't yet, telling me the whole time how nice it felt inside me. He only stopped fucking a couple of times, so he could put more lubricant on his cock. I was thankful for that, but started wishing that he would hurry up and come, although I was not about to tell him. He was thoroughly enjoying himself in my ass, and it was his to use for as long as he wanted. After a few more minutes, he started thrusting harder and then had a huge orgasm, moaning as he spewed his seed into my butt. I couldn't feel his come shooting into me this way, but I could feel his cock pulsing with each spurt. I had done it! I had taken his huge cock all the way inside my butt, taking another load of his come, and I absolutely loved it!
Greg lay on my back with his big cock softening in my ass as he recovered from his orgasm. He told me it was just fantastic, my butt was so tight it was unbelievable. He said he hoped he hadn't hurt me too much. I told him it hurt like hell until it was all in me, but after that it was quite enjoyable. I said he could fuck my ass again, but I thought I would be too sore for at least a few days. Greg said, "So does that mean you would like to see me again some time?"
"Of course I would," I told him. "I would meet you anytime you want, as long as I can have more of this cock."
I asked him if he had ever had butt sex before, and he said I was his first. I laughed and told him I could see where most women would be apprehensive. He asked if I had ever been butt fucked before. I told him I did have anal sex occasionally, but nothing like this. He was three times the size of any cock that had ever been in any of my holes before, and it was quite a challenge. He had also fucked my ass for about as long as all the other times it had been fucked added together.
I told him that he was the first person that had ever spanked me, but that it was always a fantasy of mine and it was incredibly sexy. He laughed, and told me he just wanted to see how far I would let him go testing my anything he wanted promise. I asked him how I did. He said I was definitely true to my promises. I was thinking that my big mouth had now got me spanked, fucked, and butt fucked by a black guy in just 24 hours. I decided that I was going to start speaking up more often, I loved the results.
Greg's cock had softened now, so he pulled it out of my ass. While he went and washed it off, I just stayed in the bed and waited, hoping that there was more in store for me. Greg was leaving the seminar the next morning, and I wanted to fuck all night. I wanted all the memories I could have of his wonderful cock in me.
I felt my poor little butt hole. It was still wide open from Greg's assault on it and I wondered how long it would take to close up. I knew it was going to get some more use this weekend, but if it didn't close up quite a bit it wouldn't be much fun for Ed.
Greg got back in bed with me and we cuddled and kissed for a few minutes and talked about how much fun we had been having the past two nights. I knew I had never had more fun; I hadn't been fucked this much in the past year, and I had never been fucked this well in my life.
It had been bothering me that Greg said he had a two week load of come the first time he came in me yesterday. I asked him how that had happened. He said that his wife didn't like sex with him much anymore. She said he was too big and it wasn't fun for her. He was lucky to get it two or three times a year. I was holding his big cock, and I asked him if she would care about someone else helping her out with this thing. He said he didn't think she cared what he did with it as long as he kept it away from her. "We need to work something out," I said, "you can have sex with me any time you want, and I think you deserve it way more than two or three times a year. We might have to let my husband watch some of the time though."
"But I thought your husband changed his mind," he said. I told him about my most recent conversation with Ed, and his newest change of mind. I told him Ed wanted to watch me have sex with him, and he wanted to see my pussy full of come. Greg said he would have to think about letting Ed watch, but that he would be happy to fill me with come any time for Ed to see.
I hopped out of bed and got my tape measure. I wanted to see just how big his cock really was. First I measured him soft. It was seven inches long and seven inches around when it was soft! I leaned over and took Greg's cock in my mouth and started to suck on it, running my tongue inside his foreskin and all over the head. I love taking a soft cock in my mouth, and feeling it harden as I suck on it. I wasn't able to suck for long though, it quickly got too big to fit in my mouth. When it was too big to suck on, I kissed and licked it until it was fully hard again. Fully erect, Greg's cock was twelve and a half inches long. Most of it was eight inches around, but the thickest part of the shaft was almost nine inches in circumference! No wonder it felt so good in me, and no wonder it stretched me to my limits. I made a mental note to mark these measurements on my tape measure tomorrow. I was going to start keeping track of my new lovers on my tape, sort of my own little diary. And I was going to have more new lovers, there was no way I was going to stop.
I rolled over on my back. Greg got on top of me and put his cock in my pussy again. I told him this was my favorite position. I just loved laying there with him on top of me; it made me feel so safe and like I was totally his property. I laughed when he said that if it was good enough for missionaries, it was good enough for him.
We began making love again, nice, slow, long strokes with his cock going all the way into my pussy every time. We made love for quite a while again, with Greg slowing down several times so he wouldn't come. I did nothing of the sort, having two beautiful orgasms as he continued pumping his huge cock into me. I had survived the butt fucking, so now I was able to just relax and enjoy the fucking I was getting, concentrating on remembering every minute of it. I did occasionally think about what a night my butt had been having when I felt Greg's big balls slapping against it when he pushed into me. I told Greg that I still couldn't believe that I could fuck this much without getting sore.
I wrapped my legs around Greg and put my feet on his butt again as he started to fuck harder, feeling his powerful ass driving that cock into me time after time, preparing for his orgasm. We fucked and fucked until we both exploded again. Once again I enjoyed the feeling of his seed shooting deep into my pussy, deep into my womb.
We just laid there for a few more minutes, kissing and talking about how good it felt while Greg's cock softened again. Greg told me that while he hoped I didn't get pregnant, there was a part of him that really wanted to impregnate me. I told him that I was at the most fertile point in my cycle and he had already pumped about a thousand times as much come into me as it took to get me pregnant the first time. He said that wasn't good, he didn't want any more kids. I told him not to worry about that, I was probably too old to be having any babies so he could try to knock me up all he wanted. "There is certainly no way I would ever let you use a condom," I said. "I just love the feel of your bare flesh stretching me wide open while you fuck me, and besides, your cock is a work of art. There is no way that it should ever be covered with latex." Greg seemed to have something else on his mind as I was talking, but I kept right on. "Like I told you earlier, you have fucked parts of me that have never been fucked before, I guess they will belong to you from now on. I've never seen anyone else that could reach them. I hope you know, this has been the most fucking I have ever gotten in two days in my life. I don't think I've ever been fucked this much in a month before."
"I like that," Greg said, "I own part of your pussy now. I like that. And I can get you pregnant any time I want, I like that too."
Greg got up and went into the bathroom, and I rolled onto my side and started to doze off. When he came and got into bed and snuggled up behind me, I felt his big cock bumping into me. He was hard again! He curled up behind me and pushed his cock all the way inside my pussy. Then he wrapped his arms around me and played with my tits and held me while he pumped his cock into me time after time, fucking me until he came deep inside me again. We went to sleep with his cock still inside me, slowly softening. I dreamed about how good that big tube felt inside me, even soft. Two more times during the night, I woke up to the feeling of Greg's cock hardening inside my pussy. Both times he fucked me until he came in my pussy again, then we fell back to sleep, his arms holding me in place, his cock still inside me.
When the alarm went off in the morning, I tried to reach over and turn it off. We were still cuddled up like spoons with Greg's cock inside me, and he didn't want it to come out. As I carefully shut off the alarm, making sure not to let his cock out, I felt Greg starting to harden again. He rolled me over on my tummy, with him on top. Once again, he started pumping his big cock into my pussy, slamming his cockhead into my cervix. He fucked and fucked, thrusting into me until he came, deep inside my pussy. It felt like every drip of his come shot straight into my womb from this angle, and this brought me to an unbelievable orgasm. As we lay there together, I could feel his come inside me, running deeper into my uterus. He really was trying to breed me, doing his best to make me pregnant. I almost wished I could have his baby.
We got up and brushed our teeth, then had a nice long good morning kiss. I sat on the cabinet in the bathroom and showed Greg what a mess he had made of my pussy. I told him I couldn't believe he had come in me four times without ever taking his cock out of me. He said that I got him all turned on last night when I told him he could get me pregnant any time he wanted. He had gone into the bathroom and taken another pill. He wanted to fuck me as many times as he could, and keeping his cock in me was to make sure his come couldn't run out. He wanted his sperm to have the best chance possible to impregnate me. We had walked back into the room at this time, and I lay on my back on the bed.
"Greg," I said, "I haven't been completely honest with you. I had my tubes tied years ago, so I'm not going to get pregnant."
Greg said, "Well I sure have been having fun trying to get you pregnant. You know that has been my biggest fantasy since we met don't you, getting you pregnant?"
"That was why I didn't tell you," I said, "I've been enjoying all the extra effort, it's such a turn on feeling you come in me." I laughed and said that he didn't have to leave for the airport 'til 10 and I didn't have any sessions until 1, did he want another chance at fertilizing me? He looked down at his cock as it started to harden.
Greg got on top of me and really fucked the hell out of me this time. He told me he thought we had time to fertilize me twice before he had to leave. I told him he was really turning me into a black cock slut, at least for his black cock. We fucked hard for about twenty minutes, and then both came together again.
We lay together again as Greg's cock softened inside me. We kissed and talked about how much fun we'd had and how much we would miss each other. I told Greg that I loved him, and thanks for sharing his wonderful cock with me, I had the best time of my life. Greg told me he loved me too, and thanks for sharing my wonderful body with him.
I told him I wasn't that wonderful any more, but thanks for the compliment anyways. He told me that I was wrong; anyone who was telling me I wasn't perfect was either crazy or queer. He said I was beautiful and perfect, and everywhere we went people were jealous that I was with him. He said thanks again for letting him come inside me so many times, and then asked if I was serious about seeing him again. I told him that any time he wanted to see me, I would talk to Ed and we would work something out. There was just no way I could pass on the chance for his big cock in my pussy again. Greg's cock started to harden in me again. Those little pills are just the most fantastic things.
We checked the clock again. We still had an hour. I told Greg that I was in if he was. He said he was already in. I laid there and enjoyed for the last time the feeling of his cock hardening inside me. We weren't in too much of a hurry, so this was another nice long fuck that we shared. I just concentrated on the feeling of his wonderful, enormous cock in me. I knew I was going to miss this feeling, and wanted to remember every inch of it. I reached down and held Greg's balls as he fucked his big cock into me, thinking about how much sperm they had been producing for me. Greg kept slowing down to make it last and I kept having orgasm's whenever I could. I came twice while he was fucking, then wrapped my legs around him and enjoyed the ride while he brought us both to a final climax, shooting his load deep inside me again.
We kissed and talked for a while longer until Greg's cock softened again, then uncoupled and got up. This was about the time that I remembered I had come across the hall naked. I was a mess, with come running out of my pussy and halfway down my legs, and all I had to wear was my key card! I had to hurry up and leave, I was getting turned on again just thinking about it and if I said anything to Greg about it, he would miss his plane while we were fucking again. I did want to fuck again, but I didn't want him to miss his plane. We went to the door and I looked out, the coast was clear.
I opened the door and started out when Greg stopped me to give me one last kiss goodbye. This was when Angie walked out of her room, seeing both of us standing naked in his doorway kissing. I thought "oh well", then turned around and finished my long, French kiss with Greg. I knew that my bottom was still pink from the spanking I'd gotten last night, and I wondered if she could tell. As I turned to cross the hall, I told him "remember, if you want it, call me."
I walked across the hall naked and opened my door as Angie stood there dumfounded. I said "sorry about that" when I passed her. As I was going into my room, I looked down the hall and saw the maid standing there, smiling at me.
|
Day 1
I was walking around the bedroom naked. I had to finish packing for my trip to a seminar in Atlanta and I thought if I finished packing nude, Ed would get the message and we would have a nice lovemaking session. I was excited about the trip and thought some sex would help me get to sleep. Ed came in and undressed and climbed into bed. I figured he was watching me, so I pranced around a little longer than usual. The next thing I knew, he was snoring. Not only was I not going to get to fuck, but I would have to try to get to sleep with that damned noise again.
I knew Ed was tired, he gets up at four in the morning for work. But I was going to be gone for the next three nights and I thought he might want to send me off satisfied. Ed and I have been married for twenty years now and he just didn't seem that interested in me anymore. I stopped and looked at myself in the mirror. I am 40 years old, 5' 7" tall and have kept myself in pretty decent shape. I've put on a few pounds over the years but still manage to turn some heads. I do have to die my hair to keep my natural blonde color, but other than that most people think I look 30. Maybe Ed would miss me while I was gone and I could have some fun this weekend when I got home, I thought. I went over to my suitcase and took out my plain white panties and bras and packed some of my nicer ones. At least I could feel sexy.
It's not that we have a bad sex life; it just isn't quite often enough for me. We have one child, a daughter, and she had just gone away to college for the first time. I had hoped that being empty nesters would provide the opportunity for our sex life to pick up, but instead Ed had started working more overtime. It isn't like we're hurting for money. Ed is a manager for a large computer firm, and I had gone back to school and finished my CPA degree after our daughter started school. That was what the seminar was about; new changes in accounting that were coming about due to the mess on Wall Street.
The flight to Atlanta was uneventful. I took a taxi to the hotel, checked in, and headed to my room. The conference center where the seminar was being held was right in the hotel, so I didn't even need to rent a car. I had my own room, with a nice king bed. It was on the 8th floor and had a great view of the city. I freshened up and got ready for the opening night get acquainted cocktail party and dinner. I wanted to dress a little nicer than my travel clothes so I put on a nice form fitting black skirt that stopped just above my knees and a silver silk blouse. The sleeveless blouse had a little lower neckline than I usually wore, but I wanted to feel sexy tonight. My legs were tanned and smooth, so I didn't wear any panty hose. It was pretty warm in Atlanta.
As I was closing the door of my room, the man across the hall was coming out of his room. He was a black man, about my age, well over 6' tall and very nice looking. We each said hello and headed for the elevator. He asked what floor I wanted and I said two. The meeting facilities were on the second floor. He said he was going to two also.
I asked if he was attending the accounting seminar and he said he was. I introduced myself and told him I was a CPA from Detroit. He said his name was Greg and he was also a CPA, but from Kansas City. I said "that's nice, now I at least have one friend to talk to if the night got boring." We joked about there being no way it would be boring with a hundred accountants around.
We got into the banquet room and Greg saw a couple of people he knew and went off to talk to them. I didn't see anyone I knew. I mingled for a while and had a few glasses of wine while waiting for the dinner to start. When it was time to eat, I started looking for a place to sit. I was thrilled when Greg came over and asked if I wanted to sit with him. We had a wonderful time at dinner, talking about our families and our jobs.
A perfect gentleman, Greg was as intelligent as he was handsome. I did notice though, that he seemed very interested in my breasts. That was probably my fault; my low neckline was showing a lot more cleavage than I usually like. I decided that if I was going to show them off, I couldn't complain about people watching. I looked him over pretty good during dinner also. He was a very big man, tall and in very good shape. He must have weighed well over 220 pounds I thought. He was dressed quite well, and had very nice manners. My mind kept drifting into my favorite fantasy, and I kept pulling myself back to reality.
All too soon, the dinner was over. There was nothing else scheduled for that night, so Greg and I decided to just go back to our rooms. We were pretty quiet in the elevator and on the way to our rooms. When I was opening my door, Greg said I should stop over for a nightcap from his mini-bar if I was in the mood.
"In the mood for what," I joked.
He said he was only talking about a drink but if I was in the mood for something else, he was in. I got flustered and said I had to call home and would see him in the morning. He told me to feel free to give him a call if I changed my mind, he would be up for a while. As I closed the door, I realized I was trembling badly and completely flushed.
I called Ed and told him I was safely checked into the hotel and back in my room from dinner. He asked if I knew anybody or had made any new friends. I said I didn't know a soul, but I had made a new friend tonight. Ed asked if he was good looking. I knew he was joking, but figured I would play along. I said "not only was he good looking, he was black and appeared to be very well hung. He has also propositioned me already."
Ed was quiet for a minute. "You know this is one of our biggest fantasies. It's our big chance to make it come true," I teased him. He reminded me that screwing a black man was my biggest fantasy. His was to have a threesome with another woman, and to watch me go down on her. He had been on that kick ever since I told him about a fling I had with a girlfriend in college. We talked for a few more minutes then said goodbye. Before he hung up, he told me if I really wanted to fuck my new friend I should go for it. I was stunned.
"Are you sure you mean that," I asked?
Ed said "Yes, I'm ok with it. Go ahead and do it."
As I hung up the phone, my hands were trembling so bad I could hardly push the end call button. I turned off my cell phone and plugged it in for the night. I went in the bathroom to see if my hair and makeup needed any repairs. I was still shaking like a leaf. I thought I had only been joking about sleeping with Greg, but now I had full permission from my husband. I thought about it for a few minutes.
I wondered if Greg was even interested in going to bed with me. He joked around with me about what I was in the mood for, but he sounded like he was happily married. Maybe he was just being nice. I didn't really think so though, he had spent most of the night looking at my breasts. I thought he probably wanted to fuck me.
This was happening pretty fast, and I didn't want to do anything to mess up my marriage. Ed and I had talked about bringing other people into our love life for years, and had often talked about each of our fantasies. We had even been looking into going to one of the "clothing optional" swinger's resorts in Jamaica for our vacation next spring. We didn't want anyone else to know about that though.
I had been fantasizing about having sex with a black man ever since my best friend Kate had told me about her affair with one. He was a salesman that she dealt with at work, and was always flirting with her. When she finally gave in and visited him at his hotel, she could have kicked herself for not doing it the first day she met him. She said he was hung like a bull and would fuck her for hours. She said the while feel of a huge cock inside of you was something you just had to experience to fully understand, the fact that she was fucking a black man just made it that much better. I had only added the part about Greg looking to be well hung to get Ed excited, now I wondered what he would be like.
The more I thought about it, the more turned on I got. I had slept all the way to Atlanta on the plane so I wasn't very tired; a little late night fun might be just the ticket to help me get to sleep. I decided that I was going to do it; I was going to go across the hall to see Greg and if he wanted to, I was going to make love with him.
A strange calm came over me as I dialed Greg's room. I asked if he was still interested in that nightcap. He said he sure was, come right over. About 30 seconds later I was sitting on the couch in his room with him. He got me a bottle of wine from his mini-bar and sat down and told me he was thrilled that I had reconsidered coming over. We both sat on the couch and talked about home for a couple of minutes.
Greg said "What made you change your mind about coming over to my room; is everything alright at home?
I told him I didn't want to talk about home any more; I wanted to talk about something else. I think I shocked him when I said "I don't want to be impolite, but we only have a couple of days at this seminar and I don't want to waste time on small talk."
I moved right next to him on the couch and asked if he wanted to discuss what else I was in the mood for. He said he definitely wanted to. I told him I had been having this fantasy about cheating on my husband with a beautiful black man for several years now and asked if he wanted to help me make it come true. He put his arm around me and kissed me. We kissed for several minutes and our hands roamed all over each other. Greg already wasn't wearing a shirt when I got there, so I was able to run my hands all over his bare chest. He was very powerfully built. As he was feeling my breasts, I ran my hands down over his pants to feel his cock. He was not fully hard yet, being trapped inside his tight pants, but it still felt bigger than any cock I had ever felt.
Greg said "How about standing up and taking your clothes off, show me what you've got for me."
I stood up and removed my blouse. I tried to slow down and make it sexy, but I really just wanted to get naked as soon as I could. I was afraid I would chicken out if I started thinking about what I was doing, and also I couldn't wait to see him naked. I took off my skirt, laying it on the table too. Now I stood before him in just my nice matching bra and panties. I sure was happy I had left the plain white granny pants at home. He whistled and said I looked absolutely fabulous. I unfastened my bra and slipped it off. My breasts are easily my best asset. When I was younger, they were 36D and stood very firm. Nowadays they are 38D and sag a little, but not too bad. My nipples on the other hand have always been kind of troublesome. They are big normally, but I can manage to keep them disguised inside my clothes. When I get excited however, they get rock hard and twice as long. They were as big now as I have ever seen them and ached to be sucked on.
Greg said "I have been dying to see your breasts all night. They are just awesome."
"I saw you looking at them several times during dinner. My nipples were hard the whole time.".
"I think everyone in the room was looking at your breasts, they were really on display. You were by far the most attractive woman there."
I turned around and slid my panties down over my bottom and stepped out of them. I was ten or fifteen pounds heavier than I was in college, but he still told me my butt looked fantastic. It was nice to get a compliment; Ed always told me I needed to lose some weight when he saw me naked. I was a little self conscious about my pubic hair. I'm very bushy down there, and my husband doesn't like me to trim it at all. I know that a lot of women shave their pussies now, but I kind of like looking like a woman. I turned around and stood before Greg completely naked.
Greg said "Wow! I knew you were attractive and very well put together, but you are just an absolute goddess."
I said that my goddess days were mostly behind me but thanks for the compliment.
He said "No, you really are a beautiful woman. I'm going to rip my pants just looking at you."
I had forgotten about his cock being confined inside his pants. He was still sitting on the couch, and the bulge in his pants was enormous. I said "maybe I can help you with that little problem," and knelt down in front of him. I ran my hand over the bulge. I couldn't wait any longer to see it. I unfastened his pants and he rose up a little as I slid both them and his boxers down and off. My eyes widened as I looked at my first black cock.
It was the loveliest milk chocolate color, long and thick and uncircumcised, and it was still growing! I hadn't seen an uncut cock in over twenty years and it was absolutely beautiful. I didn't have a ruler but I do know that if I wrap both of my hands around Ed's cock, my fingers just barely touch and there is an inch or so left. Greg's was easily five or six inches longer and much, much thicker. I wrapped both hands around the base of it (my fingers didn't come close to reaching all the way around it) and there was still a good five inches left for me to kiss.
I started to have second thoughts about trying to put something that big inside me, but I remembered Kate telling me she had the same thoughts when she saw her black lover's cock for the first time. Besides, I knew that there was no going back now, Greg's cock was going all the way in me. "This is not exactly a little problem", I said.
I kissed the tip of Greg's cock and took it into my mouth. The head barely fit with my mouth stretched wide open. I got a couple of more inches in my mouth, but there was no way I could get any more. I examined and kissed every inch of his cock, just marveling at the size of it. It got even thicker a couple of inches past the head, then tapered down to about the same thickness as the head at the base. I held his balls in my hand and kissed them for a few minutes while Greg moaned and ran his hands through my hair. I sucked and licked and kissed for all I was worth, but there was no way I was going to satisfy this man with my mouth.
By this time, my pussy was as wet as it has ever been and the juices were leaking down my legs. I stood up and straddled Greg on the couch and kissed him deeply. His tongue explored the inside of my mouth as I sat on his lap, his big cock sticking up between us. He played with my breasts and kept telling me that they were awesome. It felt so good to have someone want to see me naked. After a couple of minutes I rose up and looked straight into his eyes as I positioned the head of his cock at the entrance to my pussy. He asked if I wanted him to wear a condom, as he had not had a vasectomy. I placed my arms on top of his shoulders and told him there was no way I was covering up my first black cock, I wanted him all the way inside my pussy naked.
I wanted to control this initial penetration; I was worried that I might not be able to walk for the rest of the seminar if we didn't take our time getting all that cock inside me. I continued staring directly in his eyes as I slowly slid my pussy lips over the head of his cock. I moaned as my pussy lips stretched very wide, but felt no pain at all. I leaned down and kissed him again as I moved up and down very slowly, working several more inches of his big cock inside me. This has always been one of my favorite parts of sex, the excitement of having a new lover enter me for the first time. It had been twenty years since I had experienced it, but the thrill was still there.
I closed my eyes and just enjoyed the feeling as the thickest part of his cock stretched its way into my pussy, it was just amazing. I held still for a minute to adjust to his size as he took one of my nipples into his mouth and nursed on it. I looked down and watched as he rubbed my breasts and sucked on one of my nipples. Below that I could see his beautiful cock going into my pussy and I realized that there were still 4 or 5 more inches to go.
The contrast of his black cock, my white skin, and my pink pussy was absolutely intoxicating. I held still and thought about how I was actually getting to experience what I had fantasized about for so long. As Greg took my other nipple into his mouth, I exploded in my first orgasm of the night. It was a very strong orgasm and as I shuddered and tried to regain control of myself, I slid the rest of the way down onto his cock. His cock reached so far into my pussy that I could feel him pushing against the top of my vagina and my cervix. I took a couple more minutes to get used to his size, kissing him and nuzzling against his neck.
Once I was accustomed to his cock, I rose up and started fucking up and down on him, going up until the head was at my lips again then all the way back down until he touched the entrance to my womb. It was the most fantastic feeling I had ever experienced; I felt like I was a teenager losing my virginity again. He was so thick that he stretched my lips almost to the point of pain and I could feel his cock touching every bit of the inside of my pussy. It was like getting a huge bear hug from the inside. I rode up and down on him for a few more minutes and then collapsed in another orgasm. This one was even bigger than the first and left me almost incoherent for a couple of minutes.
He asked if I was going to be OK and I told him I didn't know. I kissed him and sat with his cock all the way inside me as I regained my composure. About this time I realized that this was the first thing either one of us had said since I started working his cock into my pussy. We laughed about this and he said he didn't want to disturb me. I seemed to be having a good time and he knew that he was having a good time. I told him I had never felt anything as good as his cock felt in my pussy, I had never had a better time in my life. "I can't believe I've wasted so much of my life," I told him, "I should have been making love with black men years ago."
I stood up and took his cock in my hand. "Come with me, it's time for you to get yours," I said, as I led him over to the bed. I lay down on my back and watched as Greg climbed on the bed and got between my legs, his big cock bouncing around like something on a farm animal. I was so excited, my pussy was just gushing. He kissed me as he got his cock situated against my pussy lips. I had been worried about his size but it had not been any problem at all up to this point. Greg had been a very gentle lover and had let me control the tempo and get used to his cock. All that changed now as he took control and began to fuck me. It was his turn and he wanted to come. He started slow, and then slowly sped up, pulling his cock almost all the way out and then driving it back in all the way every time. He wasn't hurting me but I could feel his cock slamming against my cervix on every thrust. I had never been fucked this hard before, and certainly not by anything this size. Once again I was on the edge of orgasm.
About this time, Greg said that he was getting close. I could feel his cock swelling up even bigger. He asked where I wanted him to come. I lifted my legs up and put my heels on his butt, holding him inside me as he fucked.
I said "You had damn well better come right inside my pussy. I have waited a long time for this and I want your come deep inside me."
His cock seemed to swell up even more as he thrust into me all the way. I could feel the huge head at the entrance to my womb. He lay on top of me and moaned as he began to come inside me. It felt as though electricity was jolting through my body, I could feel jet after jet of his come shooting right against my cervix. I swear that I could feel his come shooting straight through my cervix and deep into my womb. I immediately exploded in the most intense orgasm I had ever experienced. I screamed and he moaned as spurt after spurt of his come shot deep inside me.
The next thing I remember I was laying on my back recovering and Greg was on his side next to me running his fingers through my bush. I said "I'm sorry it is so furry. I know most women shave down there now, but my husband likes me to keep it long." Greg said he loved it. He thought men who wanted only shaved pussy were closet pedophiles. I laughed; this was pretty much the same thing that Ed always said.
Greg said that the light brown color of my bush told him that I was a natural blonde. "I was a natural blonde," I said, "now I have to die it to hide the gray."
I asked what he had just done to me. I had never felt anyone come that hard or that much before. He said he was sorry, he had just gotten a little carried away when I said he could come inside me. He said it had been a couple of weeks since he had come, so he had quite a load stored up. We both looked at my furry little pussy. It was still stretched wide open, and Greg's come was running out onto my lips.
"Don't be sorry," I told him, "it was the most amazing thing I have ever felt. I thought I could feel your sperm shooting right into my womb!"
He said his cock was definitely reaching the far end of my pussy. Maybe if he got it situated just right it could shoot right into my uterus. He said if it did, it would probably be pretty effective. He hoped I wouldn't get pregnant from it. I said I couldn't care less about getting pregnant, it was the most fantastic thing I had ever felt and the most intense orgasm I have ever had. I thanked him for the best fuck of my life as we kissed and cuddled.
He laughed and said "And thank you for letting me inside you bare and letting me come inside you. It is so much better without a condom and getting to come inside a woman as beautiful as you was fantastic."
I told him I was worried that it wasn't very good for him. I was trying to squeeze my pussy and give him a better fuck, but his cock had me stretched so wide open that I just couldn't do it. He told me not to worry, I was a great fuck. My pussy was so tight that he had trouble lasting as long as he did. That made me feel good, I hoped it meant I would get the chance to bring him more pleasure. I knew that Ed would have been sleeping already if he had just come. I still needed more of Greg's cock. I told him I couldn't even imagine the pussy that wouldn't be tight for him.
I told him that part of what was so fun about having sex him was that I was cheating on my husband. I told him about Ed having given me permission to have sex with him but that he would never have agreed for me to take you bareback. That combined with the thrill of fucking a black man plus letting him come inside me had made it an incredible turn on for me.
Greg asked why I had never had sex with a black man before.
I told him my dad was kind of a racist, and I was raised thinking that way. But after I got out in the world myself, I met lots of black people that were very nice. Then I told him about Kate's story and how it had started me thinking. I had fantasized about making love with a black man for several years, but the opportunity to actually do it had not come up before this.
He laughed and said that I sure didn't waste any time jumping on the opportunity when it did come up. "So was interracial sex all you thought it would be," he asked? I told him it was unbelievable, and I couldn't wait to do it again. He asked if I still would have fucked him if my husband hadn't given me the green light.
I told him I thought I would have, but I didn't think I would have been able to get the nerve up to do it tonight. I told him how badly I was shaking when I got into my room and how worried I was that he would hurt me when I saw how big his cock was.
Greg said "I didn't hurt you did I?"
I took his soft cock in my hand and held it. It was still much bigger than Ed's even now. I told him not to be silly and that he was a wonderful lover and a fantasy come true for me. I asked if he had ever had sex with a white woman before.
He said that he had gotten a full ride scholarship to play linebacker for the football team in college, and during those days he gotten the opportunity to have sex with quite a few white girls. A knee injury had ended his football career and he had gone into business school and gotten his CPA degree. He had gotten married shortly after, and I was the first woman he had been with since. He asked if I had cheated before.
I told him no, but that I was going to cheat on Ed again. I was going to have sex with another black man. I said I had to see if it was just Greg or if all black guys were that good. He mentioned that all this talk about sex and cheating was getting him hard again. I screamed "Yay!" as I rolled onto my back and told him we knew just exactly how to take care of that.
Greg got on top of me again and started working his cock into me. It went in easily this time, the combination of our juices had me very well lubricated. I was still so full of cock that it was hard to do anything but lay back and enjoy the fucking I was getting.
We had gotten that first desperate, needy fuck out of the way, so this time we went much slower and for much longer. We took the time to get to know each other's equipment very well this time. We fucked and kissed and talked and fucked, all in the missionary position for a solid hour. It was absolutely wonderful. I had two more orgasms and was feeling like I was in another world when he started picking up the pace again. His thrusts battered my cervix for several more minutes before he once again thrust all the way in and I felt his seed shoot directly into my womb. I had another almost electric orgasm. I kissed him and thanked him for yet another wonderful experience.
We cuddled up like spoons and I went to sleep in his arms. Greg woke me up once during the night with his beautiful erection poking me in the back and we shared a nice, sleepy fuck. We were still laying on our sides and he slid his wonderful cock inside me from behind and started pumping it in and out of me. He reached around and played with my breasts and my nipples as he fucked. He continued to pump his cock into me until he sprayed my insides with another load of come. I was too tired to come right then, but not too tired to enjoy bringing him pleasure. I fell back to sleep with his cock still inside me.
We had set the alarm to go off early so we could make love one more time before we had to get ready for the days meetings. My pussy was still dripping wet from fucking for half the night so it was quite easy for him to enter me. We didn't have a lot of time, but we still had a very nice fuck. We fucked slowly for a few minutes, and then Greg started fucking me hard. His big cockhead was battering my cervix like it was a punching bag. It only took a few minutes before we were both ready again. He shot his load deep inside my pussy just as I had yet another wonderful orgasm.
Greg lay on top of me as we kissed and cuddled while his big cock was softening inside me. When his erection was gone, we finally uncoupled ourselves and got up. I got dressed and said I should get back to my room and get ready. Once inside my room, I undressed and looked at myself in the mirror. I was quite a sight, hair sticking out every which way, my nipples still at full attention, and Greg's come running out of my pussy and down my legs.
I sat down in the desk chair and turned on my cell phone. I had 5 messages and texts from Ed pleading with me not to go through with it; he didn't think he could handle me sleeping with another man. I had sort of expected this, maybe that was why I had turned off my phone after we spoke? I looked down at my come matted pubic hair and thought about how happy I was that I hadn't gotten his message earlier.
I dialed Ed's cell phone and he answered before the second ring. He sounded like he was just about in a panic attack. I told him I had just woken up and turned my phone on. Don't be silly, I told him, I would never have sex with another man. I was just talking dirty with you on the phone. I talked to him for a couple more minutes, told him I loved him and hung up.
I was sitting in the desk chair thinking that these three days were just going to have to be my little secret when another big drop of Greg's come slid out of my pussy onto the chair.
|
"The massive suicide that occurred yesterday has come as a big blow to the credibility of the lovegen app. All the deceased had their phones gathered with the said application on display. The authorities allege the deceased committed suicide together because of the lack of love matching in there, as well as the lack of soulmate compatibility. The Jeon's Labs claimed the massive suicide was an impulsive act due to stress, relationship problems, depressive states..."
Jeongguk was sitting on his chair in the meeting room of the Jeons' Labs, elbows supported while his hands were wrapped together, clenching his knuckles and listening to the reporters talking on one of the most important news channels in Korea. All of his staff members were with him, Namjoon among them.
"The Jeon's Labs CEO, Jeon Jeongguk, has not spoken about this matter yet. Meanwhile, people are gathering to protest against the Lovegen App and its new features..." the image in the background on the news channel showed a bunch of people with facemasks and banners with the logo of the lovegen app and an X sign over.
"Turn it off," Jeongguk said passing a hand through his face and groaning in annoyance. "Fucking shit why is it our fault that a group of people decided to kill themselves?" he muttered while a deep frown adorned his handsome features.
"You don't need to be so foul-mouthed," Eunwoo said shaking his head. "We have to focus on diverting the attention from this horrible event and you need to give an interview asap," the alpha said reading some notes on his clipboard.
Jeongguk was pouting, for a moment resembling his old self. "Hyejin... what about social media?"
"We're getting a lot of hate, but we also have lots of supporters," the black-haired woman said tapping the keyboard of her laptop with her long nails. "Eunwoo is right, with a good distraction the events of this massive suicide will last just three days"
"And what do you guys suggest to distract our users?" Jeongguk asked, the pout and the frown still on his face, his eyes kept focusing on Namjoon who was silently reading on his laptop.
"What about our new campaign with a male omega?" Yongsun said beaming widely, getting excited and taking her huge purse to search for her phone. "I have the perfect candidate for this!"
Jeongguk just rolled his eyes. "Anything that does not involve male omegas?"
"You could lie about your relationship with Joy and feed the reporters the engagement history," Eunwoo said shrugging his shoulders with an amused smirk on his face but Jeongguk scoffed loudly.
"Hyung..." the pure breed alpha turned to face the silent Namjoon.
Namjoon sighed clearing his throat. "We need to do three things for the moment," the alpha said earning the attention of the other four in the meeting room. "First, you need a lawyer. Some mourning families want to sue the Jeons' Labs, I recommend Jung Hoseok... I can contact Yoongi and ask for Hoseok..."
Jeongguk sighed heavily but nodded his head at the end. Well if Namjoon told him to hire a clown Jeongguk would do it, after all, he was Namjoon's biggest fan. "Jimin is also a lawyer..." the younger alpha said.
"Yeah but Jimin only works on medical cases," Namjoon said furrowing his eyebrows. "Perhaps he could make an exception for his bestie, right?"
"Perhaps..." Jeongguk said shaking off his thoughts. "What else?"
"Secondly... I highly recommend doing an honest campaign with all the genotypes together... genotypes and genders. One each... a male omega and a female omega, a male alpha and a female alpha, and a male beta, and a female beta... And from different ethnics too"
"Namjoon you're so smart!" Yongsun said clapping her hands and smiling, showing her dimples and her pudgy cheeks. "No stereotypes on genotypes, how does that sound?"
"Quite good" Namjoon replied offering the girl his dimpled smile. Jeongguk remained silent, not having more choice than to agree. "And finally, diverting the attention from the topic sounds about right, but I don't think announcing a fake engagement would do any good," the grey-haired alpha said while fixing his glasses, eyeing everyone in the meeting room.
Jeongguk nodded his head. "Fine, I'll do the interview... Fuck I need a counselor"
"Min&Ko" Namjoon replied grinning at the younger alpha. "Also, Yongsun and Hyejin... let's start the new campaign as soon as possible, and let's add the new features of the lovegen app, okay?"
Both women nodded their heads. Yongsun especially looked super excited. "I have three contenders already but there's one male omega that caught my attention. He was ethereal! For real... I almost asked him to let me touch his face to be sure he was real" Yongsun said giggling loudly while Jeongguk glared lightly at her.
"Really? Did you tell him about the offer?" Eunwoo asked tilting his head with curiosity.
"Yeah, I gave him my card... and he gave me his number. I may or not have told him that it was a modeling job and not advertising for the lovegen app though..." The blonde woman shrugged.
"Yongsun! That was the main part!" Eunwoo whined shaking his head.
"I know but he wasn't interested at all and I really want him to do the damn campaign!"
"What's so special about that omega?" Jeongguk asked with a grimacing look on his face.
"I know you told me that you didn't want blondes but look at him..." Yongsun said taking her phone. "Don't think I'm a creep but he was so pretty I had to take a picture of him to show you guys" she giggled while Hyejin tapped her head done with her friend.
"I don't care. Do whatever you want. Just show me the people you chose before the shooting starts" Jeongguk stood up and picked his things up. "Now I have lunch to attend," he said waving off the employees and leaving, a strong scent coming from him probably because he was containing his anger.
All Jeongguk wanted to do for the day was to go boxing and release stress. But the world as always was against him. First, he had to deal with the deceased people's families who blamed it on the lovegen app, then have lunch with his precious mother who probably wanted to tattle at him for not speaking to the press as soon as the crisis appeared. And three, he had to pay a visit to Min&Ko to beg his friends for help. Boxing would have to wait.
---------------------------
Jeongguk drove to the restaurant where he was meeting his mother. Dressed in all black and with a facemask to hide from any prying reporter. The alpha couldn't talk to them until a proper speech was done for him. The moment he entered the fancy restaurant he took off his mask and a server immediately guided him to his mother's usual table. To his surprise, Jeon Chie wasn't alone. Joy was sitting with her, looking nervous and suffocated. Jeongguk shook his head, knowing his mother was probably giving the omega a hard time, criticizing her dress or her hair. Yes, at the beginning Jeon Chie approved of the relationship between Jeongguk and Joy. Because it was convenient for their business and the relationship earned a good response from netizens. But now for Jeon Chie, it has become something monotonous. The woman wanted Jeongguk to find a suitable alpha female from a wealthy family to breed pure blood alphas babies with him. And that made Joy not convenient anymore.
When both women saw Jeongguk coming they fixed their positions, Joy looking thankful and Chie smirking proudly.
"Jeongguk" Chie spoke pointing to the seat in front of her. "I've already called my lawyers so they can help you with the massive suicide issue"
"No need Mother," Jeongguk said sitting down as a server handed him the menu. "I have my attorneys"
"What? Jeongguk my lawyer is the best in Seoul" Chie replied already taking her phone to give her attorney contact to her son.
"I said no," Jeongguk said with dominance in his voice, eyes void of emotion and his voice cold as ice. The woman swallowed with a plastic-tight lip smirk. "How are things going with Wang Ruiji?"
"Not so good" Chie answered taking her glass of wine. "He invited me to have dinner with him tomorrow night"
"Good, use your woman charm to lure the man. I need this fucking business before the launch of the new lovegen app" Jeongguk said handing over the menu to another server who took their food request.
"Jeongguk I'm an alpha" Chie spat looking indignantly at her son. "I'm not going to charm a man to get a business deal. That's what omegas are for" she scoffed feeling rather offended.
Jeongguk peered briefly at Joy who was looking down at her plate, trying hard to ignore the offensive remarks from Jeon Chie. That was something Jeongguk didn't like, he didn't appreciate someone who wasn't standing up for their genotype. Asshole or not, Jeongguk respected all genotypes. And that had nothing to do with his issue with male omegas. That was just something related to his broken heart, nothing else.
They waited to get their food served to return to their previous conversation. "Wang has the hots for you, Mother" Jeongguk replied with a teasing smile. "Just go on a fucking date with the man, it won't kill you"
"Don't be disrespectful to your mother..." Joy muttered to the alpha next to her.
Jeongguk frowned glaring at the girl and then back to his mother. "Mother... I need this business deal. The Jeons' Labs is supporting the whole company, so you better do something. Do you understand?"
Jeon Chie didn't respond. Having to let her son take over the company had given the young alpha the power to make decisions and take control over things. She wasn't the boss anymore, at least not in the former Jeon's Tech department now known as Jeon's Labs. And to her demise, that specific department, responsible for the lovegen app, was the one making the most earning of the entire company, with 80% which led the woman to be rather powerless against Jeon Jeongguk.
"Of course" she finally said faking a smile, red lips twitching while she grabbed another glass of wine.
"Why are you here?" this time Jeongguk looked at Joy furrowing his eyebrows. "I thought we were going to see each other tomorrow"
"Your mom invited me over..." the omega said with a small smile, clearly feeling uncomfortable.
"Is something wrong, Jeongguk?" Chie asked with her usual plastic smirk. "You don't look so happy that I invited your girlfriend for lunch," she said, the mocking tone in her voice obvious. Jeongguk knew what Chie was doing, he cocked an eyebrow at his mother and place a cut of his steak on Joy's plate.
The girl blushed muttering "Thank you" and for a moment she thought her knight in shining armor was back, while Chie looked displeased.
Min&Ko was placed on one of those buildings that rent different offices for professionals or small businesses. Jeongguk didn't understand why Yoongi didn't let his father lend him one of his buildings. The omega was always very independent and didn't involve too much in the Min Business, he rather has his own. Jeongguk agreed with that but a little help couldn't hurt. Anyways, the alpha parked his car not so far from the said building, wanting to get over the whole 'blame on the lovegen app for the suicide fiasco' and talk with Yoongi and Jimin.
But the instant he entered the reception of the building to take the elevator, a familiar scent hit his nose giving him a sense of longing. The air of the lobby was perfumed by the lingering smell of cherry blossom with a hint of vanilla and sugar musk. The sweet, savory aroma was soft, fading in the air. But it was driving Jeongguk crazy. The pure-blood alpha knew that scent very well. He used to love that scent. But at that moment it was making his heart beat painfully against his chest. The same heart that was supposed to not beat anymore.
Jeongguk furrowed his eyebrows and recklessly he started to look around the room to see that familiar face, the owner of that intoxicating smell. People started to give him weird looks while he kept pushing them away trying to find him.
"Jeongguk? What the hell are you doing?"
Jeongguk turned around with the same unnerving face, his emotionless eyes showing a hint of panic. He spots Jimin looking up at him with a worried face. Jeongguk was quick to get close to the alpha and his frown deepened when he blatantly sniffed the smaller alpha. "Why do you smell like this?" Jeongguk asked with a low growl in his tone of voice.
Jimin gulped, his eyes big and backing off from the pure-blood alpha. "Like what?" he asked trying to sound as nonchalant as he could. But the pure-blood alpha was glaring at him with those cold and dark eyes. "Jeongguk, It's not-"
"Why do you smell like... like him?" Jeongguk asked again, sounding menacing and rough. Those dark void eyes showed a tinge of pain and anger.
Jimin sighed heavily, there was no point in hiding the truth. Jeongguk would know eventually. "Taehyung is back, Guk" As those words left Jimin's mouth Jeongguk's face turned into something unreadable. "He just left like a min..." Jimin didn't have the chance to end that sentence when Jeongguk had already rushed out of the place in a hurry, following that scent.
Jimin just stood there with a worried face, but he decided to not follow the alpha. Jeongguk and Taehyung needed to resolve their issues by themselves, nonetheless.
Jeongguk stepped out of the building, his eyes scanning his surrounding as he kept trying to pick up the fading scent of cherry blossom and vanilla. But the alpha's sense of smell was weakened because of the cold air of December. And after walking around he gave up, he lost that scent. But why was he following that smell anyways? Jeongguk growled to himself, angry. He should stay away from that scent. He hates cherry blossoms now, he hates vanilla and he hates sugar musk.
The alpha closed his eyes inhaling deeply, trying to get his senses back. But a shot through his heart made him turn his head to the right sight and it really felt like a bullet inside just to see the image of him standing not so far from Jeongguk, standing on pale grass and under a winter tree with only a few lastly leaves clinging on the bare benches.
"Taehyung..."
|
“I prefer the rye flour from the Ramsgate mill. They use traditional eastern North stone grinding to produce their ryes.” Stannis frowned at the website he’d found. It featured photographic images of vast fields of wheat in golden sunshine, clearly taken somewhere in the verdant Reach, which seemed disingenuous. Their product was verified Northern though, so perhaps he might forgive them the creative license. “This one from Hornwood might be worth trying. They mill their products to order which might produce some interesting freshness, but I’d need to reevaluate flour to water ratios.”
That sounded like an entertaining project, if Stannis was being honest with himself. There was a comfort in the scientific certainty in following the same routine and producing the same product day after day, but sometimes he wanted to try something different.
No answer came from the direction of the dining table.
“Mixing the flour types might work too,” he said, tapping his fingers on the desk as he considered his options. “Freshly milled flour naturally absorbs more water than standard flour, so that might be a way to have more control but still produce something different.”
He turned around. Shireen was writing what appeared to be equations in her homework book. Her penmanship was as exceptional as always. She was, for some reason, hunched over her work. Recently she’d taken to tying her hair back off her face, which he’d been pleased to note as a sign of increasing self-confidence. Today, however, she had allowed a long curtain of hair to fall over her face, covering her scars as she had for many years.
“Shireen?” he said, raising his voice a little.
She still didn’t speak to him.
Stannis cleared his throat. “Shireen, are you well?”
“Dad, have some chill.” Shireen finally looked at him and he was alarmed to see she appeared annoyed with him. “There is literally no chill with you.”
Stannis blinked in surprise at his daughter’s sudden attack. “Why are you angry? You never used to be so disrespectful. We always used to discuss flour options.”
Shireen scowled, jiggling her pen restlessly between her fingers. “No, you used to talk endlessly at me about your flour options. Nothing I’ve ever said about flour would have made any difference.”
“You chose the Storm line,” replied Stannis, trying not to sound indignant. “It was the genesis of a most successful lineage. There’s even a jar of it in the freezer.” He nodded towards the kitchen.
“I chose it because it had a cool stag on the packaging.” Shireen stared at her textbooks, refusing to make eye contact with him anymore. “And you wouldn’t stop asking for my opinion, so I chose the stag one.”
“I asked your opinion because I value your opinion,” he said, inexplicably hurt by Shireen’s attitude. Hurt shot through with anger, because it was only recently that things had changed in their otherwise stable household. “This is that boy Rickon Stark’s influence. You’ve become sullen and insolent since you embarked on a relationship with him.”
“I thought you’d be happy about my friendship with Rickon,” said Shireen, still staring at her books.
Stannis shook his head in disbelief. “I was called in to see Principal Selmy because of him. Why would I be happy about this?”
“You had to meet Mr Selmy because of both of us. Rickon is a good guy. The best guy. And I thought you’d be pleased because he actually treats me like a person instead of a freak.” Shireen finally looked up again, but she glared at him and tapped her scarred cheek. “You know, because of the thing you’re so embarrassed about?”
The old guilt, the feeling that had haunted him for so many years, flared to life. His hubris, his neglect, writ permanently on the face of his only living child.
His failure as a father, a husband, and a man.
“There is nothing about you I find embarrassing, Shireen,” said Stannis stiffly, though with complete honesty. In light of his culpability for her disfigurement, being embarrassed by her never occurred to him. He reigned in his emotions and spoke calmly. “Be that as it may, the wrongheaded opinions of your classmates are irrelevant. You have got a bright future ahead of you. You mustn’t throw it away on the whims of others.”
Shireen banged her fist on the table, knocking her calculus textbook closed. “You’re not listening.”
He had not seen a display of temper like that from his quiet, studious daughter since well before the two of them moved to White Harbor. He narrowed his eyes. “You’re grounded for the rest of the week. Home and school only.”
“What difference does that make?” Shireen’s unscarred cheek flushed red. “I’ll tell you how much, Dad, that makes literally no difference. Those are the only places I’m allowed to go unless you want me to help out at your work. I may as well be your prisoner.”
The injustice of her claims made him snap at her. “That is incorrect. I permit you to visit with the Seaworths.”
Shireen threw her hands up in the air. “With you. When they invite us to dinner. Marya’s been asking for forever if I’d like to go to the markets with them one weekend and you won’t even let me do that.” Her voice wobbled then, and she angrily dashed the back of her hand over her eyes.
Stannis was aghast. She had never uttered a word of complaint about their lives. He latched on to the last thing she’d said. “I was not aware that Marya Seaworth wished to have an outing with you.”
“I didn’t bother to ask because I knew the answer, Dad. If you really wanted to punish me for ruining your life, you should have forced Mum to take me with her.”
A cold trickle ran down Stannis’s spine at the mention of his former wife, but he focused on his daughter, not his past. “You haven’t ruined anything for anyone. Nor could you. I only wish to spare you from harm.”
Shireen sighed and started to pack up her schoolbooks and laptop. “I’m going to study in my room,” she said, her voice sad.
“You always study at the dining table,” Stannis said, baffled by the turn the evening had taken. They always spent time together after dinner, before Stannis’s early bedtime due to his very early morning starts. Shireen would usually study, whilst Stannis would conduct research for his work or complete the cryptic crossword in that day's Northern Examiner.
“Well, I’m going to study in my room, Dad.”
The silence was heavy after Shireen stalked off and Stannis felt discomforted, like he was missing something just out of reach.
Stannis stared at the screen, but suddenly flour was less interesting than usual. He sighed and closed the browser. Taking some time to think and process current events appeared to be the most pressing matter.
He headed towards his bedroom, pausing briefly in front of Shireen’s room. Stannis could hear the faint throb of the pop music she liked, with various groups of wholesome looking young people singing cheerfully together about matters that seemed serious because life had not had a chance to truly kick them down yet.
He donned his running clothes in his bedroom, along with a cap pulled low over his eyes. He left off his usual dark sunglasses since it was approaching night outside. People seldom recognised him north of the Neck, which was, in large part, the appeal of White Harbor, but he was not in the mood to risk it this evening.
Shireen gave a dismissive acknowledgment when he informed her that he was off for a run.
The streets were quiet at this time in the evening, and the sharp Northern chill burned his lungs as he started his favoured route. He usually ran after work, early afternoon typically, unless weather conditions rendered that unwise. White Harbor was the most temperate place in the North due to the warming influence of the ocean, a fact he reminded himself of frequently during the long, bitter winters.
His route took him past the town’s largest employer, Mockingbird Adult Enterprises. The golden statue of a mockingbird stood out the front, elongated in pose and oddly phallic in shape. Undeniably vulgar in any case. A shimmering blue banner across the main building proclaimed ‘experience the power and majesty of the Kraken, new range cumming soon.’
Stannis grimaced and focused on his path, not the factory. He was fortunate indeed to have his own business and was spared the indignity of having to work for an individual such as the Mockingbird owner. He had known enough men like Petyr Baelish for one lifetime.
A flash of auburn caught his eye from in front of the factory and he stumbled his stride. For a moment Stannis thought he saw the young woman from yesterday’s meeting with Principal Selmy and his traitorous heart had started to race. It wasn’t her though, this woman was another pretty red head in impossibly high shoes, carrying a bundle of files under her arm.
His throat burned uncomfortably as he recalled the meeting. The most beautiful woman he had ever seen, coming to support her reprobate brother. For a brief moment he’d felt twenty years younger, the startling spark of attraction rendering him stupid. Mercifully the stark reality had slammed back in and he’d been able to focus on the matter of his daughter, not the sister of the boy leading his only child astray.
Women that attractive had an awareness of their own power over others, every intention of getting their own way regardless of who it hurt. Some very comely woman had been part of his life, and every single one a viper.
Stannis’s breath clouded in front of him and he rounded the point that would take him back towards home. Shireen would most likely be asleep by the time he arrived, but perhaps she’d be more interested in talking tomorrow.
Shireen had shown no particular inclination to deviate from their quiet routine. He knew well the horrified reactions her scars could provoke in ignorant people. As far as he understood, she was unaware of the photos of her as a very young child that had been widely circulated in the press. His lawyers had ensured they’d been scrubbed from any websites and her name removed from lurid articles. His name had been sullied enough, but he only wished to spare Shireen from further trauma.
Stannis slowed down, then stopped to stretch beside the lookout over the town. Lights reflected on the turbulent waters of the famous harbor, and Seal Rock with its well-lit fortification ruins were just visible in the distance. He always liked this view, the reminder of their chosen home, a place of safety for his family of two. Completing his last set of stretches, he resumed his course.
He had tried to do his best by Shireen after the spectre of greyscale blighted their lives. He’d been a single father for years by the time she reached puberty, but he’d done extensive research on menstruation and obtained several well-regarded books on the subject so they could go through them together. Sex education had been worse, but he’d gritted his teeth and found the most objectively factual modern books. Those books had seemed to focus more on healthy relationships rather than simply the physical side of things, but privately it was a relief that Shireen had not shown much romantic interest in boys. Or girls for that matter. Relationships were a more difficult topic to research, and given Shireen’s first-hand awareness of his own missteps it felt disingenuous to pretend he was qualified to dispense advice.
He ran past a series of posters advertising the upcoming market day and huffed. He appreciated local produce, of course, but relied on deliveries. It never occurred to him that Shireen might actually want to attend something like that.
The more he thought about it, the more he felt blindsided by Shireen’s conduct at school. She’d never even mentioned the boy, Rickon, nor told him that the teasing about her appearance she’d often endured still continued into senior school. Stannis had assumed the other children had stopped that behaviour as they grew up and matured. The only recent official communication from the school, until yesterday’s meeting, was about Shireen’s perfect academic record.
His muscles burned but he ran faster. The pain was a catharsis, or a punishment. He was undecided which was true.
Perhaps he should ask Marya Seaworth if she would like to take Shireen on an outing. Marya seemed to be a competent mother to the vast brood of Seaworth boys. Surely Shireen would be in safe hands there, protected from any situations with hostile people.
He obviously needed to consider why Shireen’s behaviour was so out of character. Perhaps allowing her this might provide some answers. |
“…So you decided to make a bet on who can get a boyfriend first?”
“Basically!”
“I bet neither of you.”
With that remark Yoongi places a headphone in his ear, turning his attention back to his laptop screen. Taehyung notes that he’d barely looked up from the screen in the first place, and he was surprised Yoongi had even been listening to his in depth explanation of the current situation.
Hoseok however, a decent friend, was nodding at Taehyung in full seriousness. At least someone appreciated him. “Step one then; finding a target.”
Jimin makes a noise of protest next to Taehyung, small hands cupped fully around his coffee. Well, almost. “Hyung, a boyfriend isn’t a ‘target’! I want to find someone I actually like and want to date, not just find someone for the sake of winning Tae’s stupid bet.”
“You’ll definitely end up with his name on your ass if you go about it that way.” Yoongi mumbles from across the table, Taehyung notes how impressed he is by Yoongi’s ability to multitask. Maybe he does care. “I don’t have much faith in either of you, but I at least know how outgoing Tae is and how easily he’ll approach other boys.”
“Aw, thanks Hyung!” Tae grins, receiving a small scowl from Jimin. Yoongi shrugs nonchalantly before letting Hoseok pipe up from next to him.
“I’m kind of disappointed you didn’t call us down here to tell us you were getting together…I owe Yoongi like $20 now!”
Taehyung hears Jimin choking on his hot chocolate before he even looks over. “Y-You made bets on us getting together?!” Tae chuckles to himself, running a hand soothingly up and down Jimin’s back until he stops spluttering. God bless sweet, innocent Jiminie.
“You do all the things couples do; you hold hands, you play footsie under the table at dinner, you sit on each other’s laps, you share a bed…”
Jimin manages to eventually stop his windpipe giving out on him, raising his voice in both volume and pitch. “We do not share a bed…!”
Taehyung frowns, remembering the various times he’d snuck into Jimin’s bed because he couldn’t sleep or when Jimin had snuck into his because it was cold. “We do sometimes, Jiminie.” This elicits a squeak from the smaller of the pair.
“Tae-! It’s platonic!”
“I knew you’d deny it…either way Hobi owes me $20.” Yoongi glances over to said individual, rubbing his thumb and fingers together in front of Hoseok’s face. “Cough it up.”
Hoseok grumbles as he pulls his wallet out of his back pocket, mouth set in an upside down v. He checks through his cash and Taehyung can’t help but laugh when he pulls out the most crumpled up $20 note known to man and hands it to Yoongi. Yoongi makes a face of disgust back at him.
“Thanks, asshole.”
Hoseok takes this opportunity to lean in and catch Yoongi’s lips with his own before the elder can react, and when he does it’s a jab of his knee into Hoseok’s crotch. Taehyung and Jimin wince in sync as Hoseok lets out a pained wheeze. Yoongi simply stares at him, deadpanned. “You know how I feel about PDA.”
“Hobi-Hyung, why do you even go out with Yoongi-Hyung?”
Hoseok sighs dramatically, staggering around their table in the café and over to Jimin. Whines of protest emit themselves from Jimin as Hoseok wraps his arms around his shoulders from behind and nuzzles their cheeks together. “Oh Minnie, I’m glad at least you care about my well being! Any guy would be lucky to have you, Taehyung is missing out~”
Taehyung lowers his gaze from the two for a moment, when had he ever said he objected to dating Jimin? He adores his best friend to no end and quite honestly he doesn’t think he would say no if Jimin did ever happen to ask him out. In the midst of Jimin’s whining and Hoseok’s cooing noises Taehyung spots Yoongi glancing over at him from across the table. When he meets the elder’s gaze Yoongi raises an eyebrow at him, nodding subtly off towards the hallway before loudly beginning to gather up his things.
“As much as I’d love to stay and continue listening to the racket you two are making, I have to go to the studio. Music doesn’t create itself. See you at home, Hobi.” He gives his boyfriend a very brief kiss on the cheek (doesn’t like PDA my ass, thinks Taehyung) before glancing at the other again, and Tae nods in understanding.
“Yeah, I’ve gotta get going too, my photography class is near the studio so I’ll walk with Yoongi-Hyung!” Taehyung pulls himself up, shrugging his bag over his shoulder and giving Hoseok and Jimin a quick salute before noticing that Yoongi is already halfway down the hall.
Jimin is in the midst of untangling himself from Hoseok as he waves. “You better hurry if you want to walk with him, Tae. You’re home for dinner, right?”
“Of course! …unless I’ve found myself a hot piece of ass before then~”
Before Jimin can respond Taehyung is halfway out of the café, almost taking out at least 3 other students in his effort to catch up to Yoongi. He eventually slides to a stop on the heel of his shoes next to him.
Yoongi doesn’t turn to look at him, simply acknowledging his presence with a grunt before talking. “If you like Jimin, just tell him. I don’t understand why you had to set up this bet when you both would evidently be good matches for each other.”
“Hyung, it’s an unspoken rule; you can’t date your childhood best friend! We basically friend zoned each other the moment we met!”
Even without the rule he knew he was risking their friendship if he did say anything, and he knew he definitely didn’t want to lose his closeness with Jimin if it went wrong. On the other hand if Jimin did get a boyfriend, would he want to be as close with Taehyung anymore? He furrows his brow, brain becoming way too overworked with all this thinking. Screw it; he would have to find someone just as great as Jimin to date. If that was even possible, Tae notes.
“There’s no ‘unspoken rules’ of dating, Tae, but I’ll shut up. Good luck on your boyfriend hunt.” Yoongi shrugs, rolling his eyes before tugging his turtleneck up over his mouth and opening the door to the recording studio. He pauses, and Taehyung can tell he’s thinking hard in the moment of silence that passes before Yoongi speaks again. “Just don’t hurt each other over some bet, okay? It’s not worth it.”
Tae laughs at Yoongi’s sudden words of wisdom. “We’re not stupid, Hyung!”
“Debatable.”
Taehyung watches him close the door gently behind him, sighing fondly. He supposes he can see why Hoseok likes him, even just a little bit, but he hopes Yoongi won’t have to worry. Both Jimin and he are going to end up with amazing hot boyfriends, they’re going to go on great double dates together, and Park Jimin is definitely going to be the one with a name on their ass because Kim Taehyung does not lose his own bet.
Time to get to work. |
The Celeste Residence Hall was the most upper scale of all Dreamland University’s dorms. It was the only dorm on campus that offered apartments with multiple rooms, kitchens, and bathrooms. In contrast, Kirby’s dorm room only had a single bedroom, and his entire dorm shared bathing facilities as well as a woefully small kitchen. This didn’t particularly bother Kirby, but it’d hit him all at once just how wealthy some of these people must be. He sucked in a deep breath. This was a bad idea. When Meta Knight sent him that early morning text, asking if Kirby wanted to hang out with a disenfranchised prince, he should’ve refused. Instead, Kirby’s thoughts had careened into a fluffy, fairy tale dream. He’d never met a prince.
Kirby smoothed his pink hair once more and made sure the pockets of his jeans were pushed in. Then, he knocked. Meta Knight, clad in dark blue pajamas, opened the door. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his smile was halfhearted at best. He probably still wasn’t feeling well. Kirby felt a swell of sympathy. “Hi,” Kirby said.
“Good morning.”
Meta Knight offered his hand, and Kirby frowned. “You can’t. I’ll take your powers again.”
“But don’t you already have them?”
“No, of course not! I released them when I got back to my dorm. I’d never keep anyone’s abilities,” Kirby said, rocking back on his heels. “It’s wrong of me to take them in the first place.”
For a long moment, Meta Knight just stared at him. “I’m…I’m sorry,” he said. “I assumed you’d still have them, and I thought—since we’re siblings—we ought to engage in some sort of affectionate greeting. Obviously, I can’t really do the hugging thing right now, but maybe some sort of handshake. Siblings do that, don’t they?”
Kirby winced. He should’ve just accepted Meta Knight’s hand.
“But it’s fine. I’m sorry,” Meta Knight said. “I shouldn’t have assumed. I promise to respect your boundaries.”
As Kirby followed Meta Knight inside, he couldn’t help but think he’d messed it all up. Clearly, Meta Knight wanted them to be siblings and act like siblings, and Kirby had just thoughtlessly shunned his affection. Well, it hadn’t really been thoughtless. Kirby had been thinking about how Meta Knight would hate having his powers Copied, even if he’d already let Kirby do it twice. Because the third time might be the time that Meta Knight would decide Kirby was a monster unworthy of his fondness.
The room was crowded. Bandanna Dee sat by Dedede’s mom on the sofa. Kirby furrowed his brow and tried to remember her name. They’d met at the hospital, but they hadn’t spoken to one another. She’d been sick with worry, splitting her time between hugging her son and stroking Meta Knight's hair.
Meta Knight sat beside her, whatever her name was. She immediately shifted over to give him more room, although Meta Knight clearly didn’t need anymore. Dedede stood awkwardly behind the sofa. The chair in the room was occupied by a young man with pale, blue hair. He was about Kirby’s age and so shockingly pale that Kirby thought he might actually be able to see the blue veins just beneath the man’s skin if he looked hard enough. His eyes were the same warm, autumn-brown as Bandanna Dee’s. His face was soft and delicate, almost fairy-like, and he looked very handsome in his powder blue button-up and black slacks.
“Oh!” Dedede’s mom exclaimed suddenly. “You’re Meta’s brother, ain’t you?”
Such a terrible brother. “Yeah.”
“Yeah,” she said. “I don’t think I really gotta introduce myself. I’m Duchess Delilah of the Stars, Dedede’s mom, obviously. And…and I suppose you know everyone except Fluff of Patchland, disenfranchised prince, although we’re working on that.”
The fairy-like young man was a prince. A prince. Kirby gulped. “Hi!” he chirped.
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Fluff said. “I hear you will be joining us on our outing today. It should be fun. Everyone here is so friendly! They follow me down the streets, staying a few feet away, of course. I assume they’re there in case I need something.”
Kirby was speechless, unsure whether he ought to laugh or express sympathy.
“Hopefully, they ain’t gonna be much longer,” Delilah said. “Sectonia said she’d do something ‘bout it, and I think she’s prolly good for her word. Better than most of ‘em at any rate.”
“I wish I shared your confidence in her,” Fluff replied. “At any rate, I am eager to go somewhere. Your apartments aren’t unpleasant, Delilah, but it’s difficult being kept indoors for days on end.”
“Oh, I get it,” Delilah said. “Enjoy yourself. We might join you once we get our business wrapped up.”
“What are you doing?” Kirby asked.
“Looking over my contract,” Meta Knight answered.
They must mean the one for their dad. Kirby sighed. Why did everything he do have to make things worse? There shouldn’t even be a contract. Dad should’ve just helped Dedede because doing so would make his son happy. “Is…there anything I can do?” Kirby asked.
“No,” Meta Knight replied.
“The entire arrangement is absurd,” Fluff said. “What sort of abhorrent human being would force their child to agree to such terms?”
Abhorrent human being. That was...that was Kirby's dad. “I wasn’t forced to agree. I could’ve walked out,” Meta Knight said, “And it’s partly my fault he’s under investigation.”
“Why do you think that?” Bandanna Dee asked.
Meta Knight sighed. “Delilah said that Taranza was inside my thoughts, and—”
“And it ain’t your fault if someone goes looking around your memories and finds something,” Delilah interrupted. “It also ain’t your fault that Nocturne did some illegal stuff. You didn’t ask him to. And then, he had the nerve to manipulate the situation so he knew you’d have to do what he wanted.”
Meta Knight shook his head and glanced at Kirby, who guiltily looked away. “Can we talk about something else?” Meta Knight asked.
There was an awkward silence, as no one seemed quite able to think of an appropriate topic in light of that. Kirby bit his lip. “Y’know I really wanted a girl, and somehow, I ended up with a house full of young men,” Delilah said suddenly.
Dedede leaned over the sofa and hugged his mom awkwardly. “Love you, Mom!”
“Uh-huh,” Delilah said. “Sure you do. That’s why you decided to go to DU instead of the nice college down the road from our estate.”
“But Mommy, they ain’t got an archaeology program,” Dedede said.
“Well, darn. Why you gotta follow your dreams, pet?”
“Cause my mommy told me to,” Dedede replied, offering his mom a quick kiss on her cheek.
“Oh,” Kirby said. “Er…my Lady, I didn’t know you and Bandanna Dee were related.”
Everyone, save Fluff, stared at him, their expressions ranging from utter bafflement to—in Meta Knight’s case—completely unreadable. “Oh! Oh! Yeah, Dee and me,” Dedede said, laughing. “Yeah, surprise!”
“Explíquese usted,” Meta Knight said.
“Umm…no hablo que bien, Meta. Mentir…mintió porque…” Dedede trailed off.
“I—I asked how you’d met,” Kirby hedged in awkwardly. “I didn’t realize it was a big secret.”
“Tengo esto para usted, Dedede. Kirby, it’s not,” Meta Knight said. “It’s just a touchy subject. They aren’t quite cousins, though. It’s more like fourth-cousins. Bandanna Dee is the son of one of Delilah’s cousins—a lady named Dahlia.”
“Yeah!” Delilah replied. “I ain’t fond of people that ain’t there for their kids. That’s all. I mean, heck, that’s how I ended up with Meta Knight, too. ‘Sides, Dahlia’s been in so many scandals that we’re kinda estranged.”
“Right,” Bandanna Dee said, smiling awkwardly.
Kirby furrowed his brow, certain he was missing something crucial, but unable to figure out what it was.
“We should probably go,” Fluff said, rising.
“Yeah, you should!” Dedede said. “Dee’s got the keys to the Halberd. Y’all have fun, yeah?”
Bandanna Dee stood and linked arms with Kirby. “Sure thing. Come on, Kirby. We’re going to show Fluff all the tourist traps. Have you ever seen Bikaia Square?”
“No.”
“Oh! That would be interesting,” Fluff said, trailing them.
Kirby waved farewell over his shoulder—feeling a flash of guilt that he hadn’t done something special for Meta Knight—as Bandanna Dee ushered him out the door and towards the Halberd, gleaming under the sunlight. Kirby took the backseat, allowing Fluff to slide into the front passenger side. The playful autumn wind and overcast sky made for a pleasant drive into downtown Castle Town.
Being the capital of Dreamland, the city had many tourist traps, and among the most popular was Bikaia Square. It featured a massive marble statue of Bikaia in full armor with Galaxia raised high above his head. One armored foot rested on Landia’s tail as the massive, four-headed dragon with its spread wings bore down upon him. Allegedly, it was the exact spot where Bikaia, with the help of Galaxia and Mace Knight, had slain Landia and ended his rampage against Dreamland.
They’d parked a block away and walked the distance. Once they arrived at the fabled statue, which Kirby had only seen in history books, he couldn’t help but gawk. His fingers itched to touch the smooth marble and disregard the many signs indicating that touching wasn’t allowed.
“This is Dreamland’s great hero, is it?” Fluff asked.
Kirby ducked his head as the prince joined him. “Y-yeah,” Kirby said. “King Bikaia.”
“I’ve never seen this statue before,” Fluff said thoughtfully.
“But didn’t you attend DU?” Bandanna Dee asked.
“Not of my own volition,” Fluff replied. “Alera wanted to keep me close and sufficiently busy. I suppose she thought I’d get into some sort of trouble. While I attended, I didn't explore much. I devoted much of my time towards finding Yin-Yarn's whereabouts.”
“It must be really hard being here,” Kirby said, “Surrounded by only Dreamlanders after everything that’s happened. I’m so sorry.”
Fluff shrugged. “It is, but I won’t say you’re all bad,” he said. “After all, the majority of you had no involvement in my family’s disownment. Furthermore, I am grateful towards Meta Knight for helping me, not that I really needed it. I'd have escaped eventually.”
Fluff spoke so formally. Kirby blushed and wondered if he ought to try elevating his language or adding a title to every other sentence. How were you supposed to address a prince? Kirby hadn’t the faintest idea; etiquette had never been his favorite class.
“Hopefully, not for long,” Bandanna Dee offered. “I’ve no doubt Sectonia and Delilah will see justice done for the matter.”
“Perhaps,” Fluff said, “But even if I am allowed to return to govern my country, to do so efficiently will mean that I must establish alliances with my neighbors. If I can’t establish good connections in Dreamland, I’ll inevitably fail.”
“But surely, you can manage it!” Kirby exclaimed. “You clearly care so much about everyone, and you’ve been trained your entire life to do it! And we’ll all help you.”
Fluff laughed warmly. “You are the most optimistic creature I’ve ever met,” he said. “We shall see, Kirby. Now I’ve heard that Galaxia’s temple is also near here. I’d like to see it if they still allow the public entrance.”
“They do if you have the right connections,” Bandanna Dee said mischievously. “Fortunately, I happen to have a signet ring belonging to the House of the Stars.”
Meta Knight, papers in hand, sat propped on a pile of pillows between Dedede and Delilah. “Father got these back to you very quickly,” Meta Knight said.
Delilah smiled. “Oh, no, I dropped them off personally,” she said.
Meta Knight wondered how much frustration that had brought his father.
Dedede boomed in laughter. "Stars, I love you, Mom!"
“To Nocturne's credit, it looked like a standard contract—no tricky language or anything like that. Even my attorney couldn’t find anything malicious about it. I managed to get you out of working during your classes, which he readily agreed to. You’ll be working for him the next three and a half weekends. You’re only obligated to work for him during business hours at his business, so you don’t have to worry about going to his home and cleaning his house or anything. It sounds very good. Of course, if he does anything that makes you uncomfortable, call me, and I’ll make his life very difficult for you.”
“Thank you. I will,” Meta Knight said.
He'd never do it. He'd just endure whatever Nightmare wanted him to.
“You also ain’t gonna work for Dedede at the same time, so you ain’t gotta worry ‘bout helping him on the weekends,” Delilah said.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know, but I also think you oughta still be resting. Dedede said you was planning on going back to class on Tuesday.”
“Did he now?”
Meta Knight glared at Dedede, who stood abruptly. “I’m gonna go make cookies!”
If looks could kill, Dedede would’ve disintegrated into ashes before he made it to the kitchen. “Well, it’s Wednesday today,” Meta Knight said, “So that’s almost an entire week. I’ve already missed a few days, so that’s a week-and-a-half. It’s not like I’m going back after a day.”
“We just think you’re pushing yourself too hard,” Delilah said.
“Then, it’s fortunate that my father thinks it’s fine,” Meta Knight replied.
“Your dad would make you walk through fire ‘cause it amused him. I don’t think he’s really an authority on good health.”
“I’ve no fear of fire,” Meta Knight said.
Delilah sighed. “It’s a cute witticism, Meta, but your health ain’t—”
“You don’t need to coddle me, Your Grace.”
“It ain’t coddling to make sure you’re getting enough rest,” Delilah said. “Your dad pushes you too hard.”
“You worry too much.”
“Just be safe, pet. That’s all I ask.” Delilah leaned close. “And if you do get in a tight spot, I’m sure Sectonia will probably have a couple of A.M.B.E.R. agents snooping around. She’d love to get Nocturne on something—no matter how small, eh? Please, keep that in mind.”
The last thing Meta Knight would ever do was knowingly get his father in trouble with Princess Sectonia.
“He’s my father. He’d never really hurt me. ”
“That he intentionally hurts you at all’s too much,” Delilah said.
“He’s just trying to make me stronger.”
“You ain’t gotta be stronger. You’re already strong.”
Meta Knight ducked his head and picked at the sofa. “Self-improvement is always a noble goal,” he said.
“That’s true,” Delilah replied, “But it’s different when it’s you trying to improve yourself versus your dad trying to improve you. Cain’t he already see you’ve become a wholly admirable young man?”
She smoothed the bangs back from his face and kissed his forehead. Meta Knight felt the familiar flash of guilt he always felt when she tried to offer any sort of maternal affection. Dedede’s casual gestures of affection didn’t usually bother him, but hers never ceased to send a shiver down his spine. He’d never told her that it felt like he was betraying his father. Her gentle forehead kisses were undeserved, and he shouldn’t enjoy them.
Now it was worse because he thought about Dedede's kiss, and maybe some very small part of Meta Knight wanted to engage in that sort of romantic behavior. Father would be furious, of course. He’d made it very clear that Meta Knight was ill-suited for romantic relationships of any kind, and he was—admittedly—right. Meta Knight’s one attempt at a romance, fed by defiance of his father and eagerness to be grown-up, had ended disastrously.
“If…if…” Meta Knight trailed off.
“What’s it, pet?”
Meta Knight took a deep breath. “You want Dedede to marry wealthy, obviously—”
“If he can,” Delilah interrupted. “One of us oughta, but if Dedede finds someone he really loves, that’s more important than saving our house. I cain’t expect—”
“But what about Floralia?”
“It ain’t Dedede’s fault our house is falling. It ain’t even my fault. Well, I ain’t gonna talk down to you. If Dedede don’t marry someone wealthy, I’ll make alternate plans. I can leave my duchy to someone wealthier; then, ol’ Alera don’t get to choose. I ain’t gonna force my kid to be with someone he don’t like.”
“No, I suppose not.”
“Why would you bring it up?”
Because he felt like he needed her permission as if somehow her permission could eliminate Nightmare’s insistence that Meta Knight never be involved with anyone. “I…I’m just comparing perspectives,” Meta Knight said awkwardly. “I’ve had a relationship before, and it didn’t end well.”
“You were seventeen, dear,” Delilah replied, “But it didn’t end well. Okay. Lots of people have relationships that don’t end well. Surely, you know I’ve got a string of them, eh?”
“I know. I just…when I was a child, Father would tell me that romance was just…a myth with good PR. Hormones and chemical reactions,” Meta Knight said, “And he told me once that any relationship I did have would be disastrous—”
“Oh, Meta Knight.”
“—and he was right. But I’ve had some…questionable thoughts of late.”
“Questionable thoughts,” Delilah echoed.
He shouldn’t have said anything. If Nova could descend from the sky and strike him dead, that would be an act of great mercy. “Not like…” Meta Knight trailed off. “I haven’t been fantasizing about…copulating, so to speak.”
“Okay, but y’know I wouldn’t care if you were. You’re an adult. If you wanna get laid, just—y’know—be safe about it.”
Meta Knight buried his face in his hands. “Can you just kill me?”
“Kill you? But if I kill you, you’ll never learn,” Delilah said with a laugh. “Child, there ain’t nothing to be embarrassed by. Y’know I talked with Dedede ‘bout this kinda stuff, and I assume someone gave you the talk.”
“Well, Father gave me anatomy textbooks, and I read them,” Meta Knight said, “But I’ve been thinking that I might want to try a romantic relationship. Maybe. I could research how to do it, so I didn’t make mistakes. I just wondered if you thought I might be good enough. For someone.”
“You ain’t gotta find some sorta checklist. You’d be good enough for anyone,” Delilah replied.
“But what if, hypothetically, it’s someone like Dedede? I mean, let’s assume it’s a Dreamlandic nobleman. Am I still good enough?”
“You’re good enough for anyone!” Delilah replied fiercely. “I ain’t gonna say you wouldn’t run into awful people that’d try to make you feel bad ‘bout it, but y’know you’d have my support no matter who it was. As long as they treated you right and weren’t, like, a convicted criminal.”
“A pity. I was planning on going to the castle dungeons and seducing a serial killer,” Meta Knight replied.
Delilah scoffed and tapped him on the nose. “Even Alera ain’t got no prisoners in her dungeons. Less you count the poor servants that gotta go sort through all the barrels of booze. If you’re interested, I’ll take you to see ‘em. Since you grew up with a wine snob, you might appreciate it more than me.”
Meta Knight smiled. “Can you not tell Dedede we talked about this? I’ll never hear the end of it otherwise.”
“Course not.”
“Thank you. I…I’ll miss you when you’re in Floralia,” Meta Knight admitted.
He shouldn’t have said that. He had a father, a parent. He was a monster for feeling affectionate towards someone else’s parent. It was betraying his father. It was betraying Dedede. This wasn’t Meta Knight’s mother, and he had no right to feel close or even sentimental towards her.
“It won’t be that long, pet. I’ll see you for winter break, right? It’ll be good having Dedede and you there. Lighten the place up a bit, and I’ll have some help with the decorations for Saint Knight’s Day. Oh, and the present-wrapping! Speaking of, whatcha want this year?”
“You don’t have to buy me anything.”
“Like that’ll stop me. You cain’t stop me from getting you something, so you might as well tell me! Otherwise, I might get something you don’t like.”
“I don’t want anything.”
Delilah sighed dramatically. “Well, darn it. I’ll just have to take a shot in the dark for Saint Knight’s Day and your birthday!”
“Or you can combine the two.”
“Horrifying,” Delilah replied. “That’s just plain rude. Don’t nobody else get cheated like that.”
Dedede returned and sauntered across the floor. “What’d I miss?” he asked.
“We were discussing what Meta wants for his Saint Knight’s Day present,” Delilah replied.
Dedede clapped his hands together, evidently delighted at the prospect of buying presents. Even though Dedede was, admittedly, the worst gift-giver Meta Knight had ever known. Meta Knight jumped a bit when Dedede’s arm wrapped around his shoulders, but he leaned into the gesture and the warmth. Meta Knight glanced at Dedede’s face. He probably should’ve been unnerved by the mischievous grin, but instead, Meta Knight’s attention was caught by Dedede’s eyes. He’d never noticed just how blue they were before and how nicely they looked with the tan freckles dotting Dedede’s nose. No, this was very bad. Very bad.
Dame Garlude, the Knight Commander of Queen’s Guard, was a tall, imposing woman even while seated in the back corner of a university lecture hall. She was a great beauty with amethyst eyes, porcelain-white skin, and long, silky hair. Her muscles were also very impressive, although they were presently covered by her armor. Bandanna Dee was too nervous to turn around and see if the knight’s gaze was on him and if it carried any recognition with it.
She was probably there to watch Drawcia, the former A.M.B.E.R. agent. If Drawcia was particularly unnerved about the knight commander sitting in her class, she gave no indication of it.
Bandanna Dee sat between Kirby and Dedede, towards the back. Dedede, presently, was drawing some annoyed looks, which he seemed oblivious of and Bandanna Dee was all too aware of. Class started in five minutes, and Dedede had decided that was the perfect time to call Meta Knight. And Dedede took his phone calls very, very loudly. “But Mety, I just wanna make sure you’re okay! I don’t see why I cain’t hang out at your dad’s work all day!”
Bandanna Dee smothered a laugh. He could all too easily imagine Dedede marching into the Holy Nightmare Corporation and trying to lounge around the lobby all day. If the CEO had been anyone other than Nightmare Nocturne, he probably would’ve gotten away with it, too.
“Well…I, yeah, I hadn’t thought about him taking it out on you,” Dedede said, quietening. “I’m sorry.”
To Bandanna Dee’s left, Kirby shifted uncomfortably. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” Bandanna Dee whispered.
Kirby toyed with the page of his notebook, which was a disorganized mess of doodles and sketches with legitimate class-notes scrawled in awkwardly around the drawings. It was clear which of the two took priority.
“If Meta Knight isn’t agonizing over it, you shouldn’t be either,” Bandanna Dee added.
Kirby tilted his head slightly. “I don’t know. I just…I feel like everything’s changed. I like Meta Knight a lot.”
“Lord Dedede, if you’ll kindly end your conversation with Meta Knight, so I can begin class, I’d be very appreciative!” Drawcia called from the front of the classroom.
“Sorry! Bye, Meta! Love you, sugar-cakes!” Dedede shouted. “Pumpkin strudel! Schnookums! My sweetest darling Mety Knight!”
Dedede dramatically lowered his phone and shot Drawcia a frightening, cheeky sort of smile. She appeared unfazed. “How is Meta Knight?” she asked.
“He’s good,” Dedede said. “A bit sore, but…”
Drawcia’s face softened with visible relief. “I’m glad.” She paused for a moment as if she wasn’t sure what to say next. Then, she clapped her hands together and strode to the center of the lecture hall. “Now, just a bit of review. Last class, we talked about the goddess Nova. She was captured by the wizard Dark Mind, and after being freed by King Bikaia, she shattered the wizard’s powers and trapped him where?”
“The Dimension Mirror,” someone supplied.
“Correct. And to shatter his powers, she used a sacred weapon called…?”
“Galaxia!” Dedede answered brightly.
“Very good,” Drawcia said. “To put this a bit into perspective, Bikaia took the throne—historians believe—around this time. We know there was a brief period of peace. At some point, Galacta Knight was sealed away during this time.”
Bandanna Dee dutifully scribbled notes around a half-finished sketch of Kirby’s profile. Really, he wasn’t in the right to criticize the organization of anyone’s notes.
“Shortly thereafter, the dragon Landia destroyed Halcandra.”
Bandanna Dee perked up at the mention of Landia. He’d chosen Landia for his semester-long project in Drawcia’s other class, picking up from his childhood obsession with dragons. His family had a statue of Landia on their country estate. The massive and fierce four-headed dragon was composed of bronze and stood six feet tall. Bandanna Dee remembered being a child and fantasizing about flying on its back.
That felt so far away. That little girl who loved dragons and her family had grown into a young man who loved dragons and so desperately missed his parents and his younger brother.
He shouldn’t miss them. They’d thrown him out after an hours’ long screaming match. No, that wasn’t entirely fair. They’d had the butler throw him out as if their own child wasn’t even worth escorting to the door.
They’d taken his signet ring, destroying any chance of him gaining any aristocratic favors. He’d left with nothing but a pair of jeans and a sweater, sneakers, and his wallet. His parents had canceled his credit cards very quickly, and he’d never carried cash. The only useful thing he had was the already paid for annual train pass. The train pass was useful because it was first class and included food. Bandanna Dee had spent months living on trains, going from one place to another, eating their food and trying to formulate a plan. None of his relatives would take him. The tabloids might’ve offered some money for the truth of his disownment, but the pain had been too raw for him to go to any.
It’d been sheer luck that changed things.
It’d been another day and another train—an exceptionally crowded one. Bandanna Dee knew he looked awful, and he’d noticed that the other passengers were steadily giving him a wider berth. That was fine. He’d started when someone said, “May I sit across from you?”
Bandanna Dee quietly agreed. He’d turned his head towards the window, trying to make it clear that he wasn’t in a conversational mood. He also was—hopefully covertly—scoping out this other passenger. It’d been Meta Knight, although he hadn’t realized it yet. He’d only thought that his fellow passenger was a very attractive Halcandran man with a beautiful face and hair the color of sapphires. Perhaps, he’d fleetingly hoped that a Halcandran man would understand a little of what it was like to be on the outside. Not that he’d had any intention of revealing anything to Meta Knight.
But Meta Knight had a way of figuring things out for himself. When he’d offhandedly said, “It’s very unfortunate about what happened to the Lady Sailor, don’t you think?” Bandanna Dee knew he’d been caught.
Drawcia had taken to walking up the side aisle and drew Bandanna Dee from his thoughts. “Yes, Adeleine, you’re absolutely right,” Drawcia replied, evidently addressing something her teaching assistant had said.
Bandanna Dee poised his pen and lowered his head, trying to act like the diligent student that he normally was. But he was suddenly stuck trying to remember what he had responded with when Meta Knight said that. He remembered his heart racing. He remembered feeling hot and cold at once. There’d been dread and concerns about Meta Knight being a tabloid reporter. There’d been concerns about Meta Knight—with his signet ring shining bright silver—being a nobleman’s servant and playing some sort of political game.
“Landia is typically depicted as being a benevolent, guardian creature prior to his destruction of Halcandra. Some archaeologists speculate that Landia was, perhaps, acting under the influence of a magical object.” Drawcia flipped on the projector. “Let’s let this thing warm up, and I’ll explain what I mean.”
“How presumptuous of you.”
Yes, that was it. Spoken in an awkward, wavering voice.
He’d thought that Meta Knight’s eyes were lovely but very cold. “I sincerely apologize,” Meta Knight had said. “I merely wondered if you had nowhere to go. You look a bit disheveled, my Lady.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“I’m sorry. What is your preferred address?”
There hadn’t been one. Bandanna Dee hadn’t chosen a new name yet. He had only known that he didn’t want to be Sailor and certainly not my Lady.
The projector displayed a carving of a four-headed dragon with a large, claw-like object affixed to its head. “There is some debate around the nature of this object on Landia’s head,” Drawcia said. “It is notable that prior to Landia’s rampage, images of the dragon do not feature this object. Therefore, archaeologists speculate that it may be some sort of mystical relic or—perhaps, even—a piece of Dark Matter.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Bandanna Dee had said.
Meta Knight had nodded. “As you say. I merely wondered if you might want to by my Lord’s guest. I’m going to his estate in Floralia, and you look in sore need of some kindness.”
In hindsight, he probably should’ve resisted more, but being disowned and left penniless had a tendency to make a person reckless.
The next slide was an elaborate fresco of Landia, its long tail coiled around Bikaia, who stood in silver armor with Galaxia in one hand. Nova stood behind him, her slender, white hands on his shoulders. “We generally credit Bikaia with slaying Landia, although some contemporary historians argue that Mace Knight played a crucial role—and possibly delivered the killing blow—to Landia.”
Drawcia pointed to the much smaller, knightly figure in the corner. “If you’ll recall,” she said, “The size of these people does not correspond to their actual height. Rather, we’re using hierarchical scale to show their importance. Naturally, we would—at least, to the people of this era—consider King Bikaia and the goddess Nova worthier of our respect than Mace Knight, how ever skilled she may have been.”
A hand went into the air. “Professor, I thought that Landia died while guarding Galaxia of the Sacred Fire,” someone said.
“It’s actually both. Archaeologists are admittedly a bit puzzled by the discrepancy. It’s unclear whether one of the stories—or both of the stories—are merely myths. Most scholars agree with the first one simply because we do have evidence of Bikaia Square being covered in dragon fire, based upon the ash we’ve found. We don’t necessarily know if that is Landia, but given the time period, it makes sense. There’s a more recent scholar, who argues that both stories are true. Since dragons can give their lives to someone else, there is speculation that Landia really did die twice—once by Bikaia’s hands and once by…well, we don’t really know.”
Bandanna Dee began doodling a small, cartoony dragon on his notes.
“But how did Galaxia end up in her temple?” a classmate asked.
“We believe the temple was built for Galaxia,” Drawcia replied, “But we aren’t entirely sure. Galaxia hasn’t been especially receptive to answering questions.”
There was a smattering of laughter. Bandanna Dee smiled to himself. She’d answer if the right person asked. Or, perhaps, someone very close to the right person.
“Wasn’t Galaxia stolen a few years back?” a girl from the front row—was her name Chu Chu?—asked.
“She was,” Drawcia replied, “Although since she was stolen, we can assume that there was a level of cooperation involved. I don’t imagine anyone capable of keeping Sacred Galaxia against her will.”
“It wouldn’t have even been illegal if Alera hadn’t decided to get involved,” Dedede muttered.
“It’s illegal, nevertheless,” Garlude replied.
Their whispers seemed to attract Drawcia’s attention, for she swept to the back of the room. “Yes, Dame Garlude, you faced Galaxia’s judgment. I hear it was quite a shocking experience.”
The two women gazed at one another for a long second. “Class dismissed,” Drawcia said. “Remember that you have reading tonight.”
Bandanna Dee ducked his head as he walked past. He glanced over his shoulder at Dedede, who looked as though he intended to say something—likely very offensive—to the knight commander. “Come on,” Bandanna Dee said. “Let’s get home to Meta Knight.”
At the mention of Meta Knight, Dedede hesitated. “Only ‘cause he’s hurt,” Dedede grumbled.
As they filed into the hallway, Bandanna Dee reached for his phone. Kirby darted out beside him. “Do you have plans this evening, Kirby?” Bandanna Dee asked.
Kirby shook his head. “Nope! Did you have something?”
“Well, I just thought you might want to come over,” Bandanna Dee said.
“Sounds great!”
Bandanna Dee had missed three texts, and he froze when he read them. He’d expected Meta Knight, half-facetiously complaining about his Lord. Or maybe Delilah, wishing him farewell again. It was neither.
Hello. It’s Waddle Doo. I realize this is awkward, but I think we should meet.
Let me know.
It’s been a while.
While Saturday morning arrived too quickly, it began rather pleasantly, both Dedede and Bandanna Dee being overly accommodating and helpful. The former had gotten up early to make a massive breakfast, and the latter had spent extra time fixing Meta Knight’s hair. The attention might've left Meta Knight feeling a bit flustered, and while he'd never admit it aloud, he'd enjoyed it. Even if Bandanna Dee and Dedede had both been a bit overdramatic about the situation. They acted as if Meta Knight was leaving for his execution rather than a day at his father's office.
Meta Knight observed his reflection in the glass of the elevator. He looked far better than he had during his last visit to his father’s company. He’d even venture to say he looked nice. Meta Knight adjusted Galaxia’s sword belt and turned around, checking to ensure his shirt was tucked neatly in.
“Twelfth floor,” the elevator intoned.
Meta Knight took a deep breath. His father’s office was at the end of the hallway. The walls were a deceptively gentle gray and the floor black, shining tile. At the end, a massive cherry-wood door loomed forebodingly. He approached the door, adjusted Galaxia once more, and knocked. Maybe Nightmare wouldn’t answer.
The door opened, and Meta Knight couldn’t help but gawk at the tall, blond-haired men that’d opened the door. Being tall and blond wasn’t anything unusual, of course, but Meta Knight recognized this man. Hastily, he bowed. His ribs burned like wildfire, and a wave of dizziness enveloped him. Standing straight again felt even worse. But this was Jecra, the former Knight Commander of Queen’s Guard, the greatest swordsman in all of Dreamland. “Now there’s no need for that,” Jecra replied.
Jecra grasped Meta Knight’s hand, lightly pressed his lips to his knuckles, and trailed his fingers across the delicate underside of his wrist. Meta Knight shivered, and it wasn’t at all because the gesture was unpleasant. Jecra smiled brilliantly. “Rest assured, Meta Knight, the honor is wholly mine. It isn’t often that I meet such an accomplished swordsman, and it’s far less often that I meet one so pretty.”
Meta Knight’s mouth was dry. Jecra thought he was accomplished? And pretty? No, surely not. Surely, he was just being friendly. “I’m really not that good with a sword. I’m nowhere nearly as good as you,” Meta Knight replied, "Sir Knight."
The knight laughed and winked. “Do you really think I don’t know a good swordsman when I see one?” he asked. “I saw your duel with Lady Sailor’s father and brother. You were so exciting to watch.”
He'd seen that? Meta Knight made a strangled half-laughing noise.
“I must be going, though. You have business with your father, after all. It was nice talking. I’ll see you around.”
As the former knight strode away, Meta Knight stared dumbfounded after him.
“Close the door, Meta Knight,” Nightmare said, shattering Meta Knight's rather pleasant giddiness of having spoken to Jecra of Queen's Guard.
Meta Knight did so quickly. “Father, I—”
“I didn’t realize I’d raised a teenage girl,” Nightmare said. “He’s just a knight—not even that anymore—although he is quite skilled. I don’t just hire anyone, after all.”
“He works for you?”
“Oh, yes.”
But why? There were very few nobles that Meta Knight respected, and Jecra had always been one of the few. Of course, Jecra’s swordsmanship was unparalleled, but he’d always acted so honorably, too. He’d seemed admirable. But to work for Nightmare?
Nightmare strode away from his desk. Meta Knight waited silently. Undoubtedly, Father would find something wrong. Nightmare circled him and hummed, notably avoiding Galaxia's hilt. The wizard reached out and slowly traced a nail down the back of Meta Knight’s neck, tracing down the vertebrae of his spine. Abruptly, the wizard moved before him, hooked a finger beneath the collar of Meta Knight’s shirt, and drew out the silver chain around his neck. “What is this?” Nightmare asked, deceptively sweet.
As if the wizard didn’t already know.
“Dedede’s signet ring. I usually wear it.”
Nightmare’s lip curled. “How cute. So if you get lost, some do-gooder can find you and return you to your master.”
“It’s so I can call in favors if I need them. It’s a mark of privilege, which I’m sure you’re well-aware of. After all, you’ve only recently been granted access to the residential wing of the palace. I’ve had access to those rooms for years.”
“I think when I receive my palatial apartments, I’m going to request they be directly across from the House of the Stars,” Nightmare said.
“You’ll be fortunate if Alera doesn’t try putting you down in the sewers.”
Nightmare smiled. “Hm. I’d make them absurdly pleasant just to spite her. At any rate, you won't need to wear that absurd thing anymore. I’ll order you one of my rings.”
“I don’t want yours.”
“I don’t recall asking if you wanted it,” Nightmare said.
“If I tried using your signet ring to call in aristocratic privilege, I’d probably end up on some A.M.B.E.R. watchlist.”
“Dear child, I’m certain you’re already on several, and after this whole affair with Yin-Yarn and Prince Fluff, I wouldn’t be surprised if there are a few A.M.B.E.R. agents actively watching you. How much money do you think it would take for them to coax your art history professor out of retirement, hm? Or Dedede’s mother? She seems peculiarly attached, doesn’t she?”
The comment was obviously meant to make Meta Knight distrustful. There was a time when it would’ve worked, too. It might’ve worked still if Nightmare had mentioned Drawcia and left it at that, but mentioning Dedede’s mother made it too clear what his aim was.
“I’m sure Dedede’s mother considers me an investment,” Meta Knight said. “Don’t you take good care of your investments, Father?”
Nightmare leaned very close and grabbed Meta Knight’s jaw with a bruising force. “My investments don’t seem to appreciate my good care. You’ve no idea the headache you’ve caused me, brat. I am being investigated by A.M.B.E.R. agents over this mess, Sectonia is threatening me, and everyone is acting as if I’m somehow being unfair by making you keep our bargain. You’d think I was selling you on a street corner. And now you want to waltz into my office with Galaxia of the Sacred Fire. Why don’t we add high treason for stealing royal property to my list of potential offenses?”
“I—”
The wizard leaned so close that their faces practically touched. It might’ve been funny if Nightmare hadn’t looked so threatening. He was, after all, a good foot taller than Meta Knight, so he really had to bend over to get that close. Meta Knight smothered a nervous laugh that, undoubtedly, came from some part of him that lacked self-preservation. “You’re almost a threat with your magic and Galaxia,” Nightmare purred, “But without your window-tricks and dimensional powers, with your concussion and fractured ribs, I doubt you’d put up a fight more than a couple of seconds. You may have Galaxia, child, but rest assured, if I wanted to throw you over my desk and beat you into submission, I could. Keep that in mind if you’re thinking of sabotaging any of my important interviews today.”
“Yes, Father.”
Mercifully, Nightmare released him and strode back to his desk. “Good boy,” Nightmare said. “Sit.”
Meta Knight sat and took the tablet Nightmare offered him. “My schedule for today,” Nightmare said. “As of now, you are my shadow. You are to fetch anything I ask and ensure all my appointments begin and end at the appropriate times. If I request you to leave the room, you are to warn me fifteen minutes before the next meeting is scheduled. Then, five minutes. Some of these appointments will include briefings beforehand or other items. Customer Service graciously programmed them all in for you, so you don’t have to go hunting for them. Any questions?”
“Why didn’t you tell me about Kirby?”
“My reasons aren’t as malicious as you might think. Kirby’s mother didn’t want you to know about one another, and I feared if I told you the truth, you’d go looking for your long-lost brother. Besides, I promised her I wouldn’t tell you. She didn’t want the…burden of Kirby having a brother. Technically, I kept my word. It’s hardly my fault that the two of you happened to meet and figure it out.”
“Does Kirby know that?”
“No, and I’ve no intention of telling him. That’s between his mother and him.”
Meta Knight frowned. “What is she like? Kirby’s mother?”
“I suppose she’s an adequate parent for Kirby. Not someone you want to meet, though. She’s part of the same narrow-minded trash that makes up that little, backwards town. She tolerates me.”
“Then, what attracted you to her?”
Nightmare laughed. “She’s an attractive woman. I was twenty-two and wasn’t, perhaps, as in control of my hormones as I should’ve been. I didn’t have anyone to guide me like I have you.”
Meta Knight averted his gaze towards the tablet; he recognized a couple of the names. Admittedly, following Father’s advice probably had kept Meta Knight from some difficulties, and Meta Knight’s one attempt at a romantic relationship—explicitly against his father’s advice—had ended disastrously. Granted, Nightmare’s advice also kept Meta Knight from trusting Dedede for years, but Meta Knight wondered if—looking from the outside—his budding friendship with Dedede hadn’t looked really bad. Maybe it really had looked like an entitled nobleman taking advantage of someone. Maybe Nightmare really had been just beyond himself with worry.
“You didn’t plan on Kirby, then?” Meta Knight asked.
“I didn’t even know he existed for a decade,” Nightmare said. “His mother only contacted me because she wanted money—which is fair, admittedly. He’s my child, and I could easily spare a few million for him.”
And was that revelation when Meta Knight stopped being as important? When his father learned that he had another child? A child that was nothing like Nightmare wanted. It wasn’t fair that Meta Knight stopped mattering less. Hadn’t he tried to be what Father wanted? Hadn’t he—
No, he was focusing on the wrong thing. Why hadn’t Nightmare wanted to be part of Kirby’s life? Why hadn’t Nightmare treated Kirby like he had Meta Knight? Not that Meta Knight wanted Kirby to be beaten or—
No, that was exactly what he wanted, wasn’t it? No, not beatings. In spite of what everyone said, they weren’t really beatings. They were fights. And usually, Meta Knight started them by displeasing his father. As Nightmare often said, if their arguments upset Meta Knight so much, why couldn’t he just behave? But why did he and Father fight when...why could Kirby please Father so much more than Meta Knight could? Why was Kirby more deserving of Father's affection and patience?
Or maybe not. Maybe it was something else. Nightmare's treatment of Kirby's powers was terrible. There was no reason for Kirby to feel so insecure about Copy. It wasn't as if Kirby's power was mind control or something that could only be used to hurt another person. Maybe it was just a less physical form of abuse? Control? A power play? Meta Knight's relationship had been so much simpler before Kirby became involved.
“Do you…” Love him more than me.
No, he couldn’t say that. That was awful. He shouldn’t even be thinking it. Nightmare probably loved them both in his own temperamental way.
“Is that what my mother was, too?”
Nightmare raised an eyebrow.
“A good lay,” Meta Knight clarified.
“No,” Nightmare answered.
“Then, what was—”
“I will never understand why you bear such an attachment to a woman who abandoned you,” Nightmare said, “But I suppose it’s so easy to idolize someone who’s never around, isn’t it? Next question, perhaps, related to your new job?”
Of course. “Your first appointment with Tiffany Ebrum. Isn’t that the cabinet minister’s daughter?”
“Very good. Yes, she is. She’s interviewing me for her school newspaper.”
“She attends Aqua Star College, right?” Meta Knight asked. “Wasn’t her mother, Lady Like, one of the founders?”
“Indeed, she was. Lady Like believed that Dreamland was in sore need of a women’s only liberal arts college. She modeled the school after ones she’d seen in Patchland.”
“So why is her daughter interviewing you?”
“My vast amount of charitable donations.”
“You didn’t donate to my university.”
Nightmare looked thoughtful. “Would that make you happy, pet? How much money do you think our darling Queen donates to that university? I imagine most of it goes to the jousting and fencing teams; that’s where she pulls her recruits for Queen’s Guard. Do you think that comes at the expense of the arts? Or that struggling Halcandran studies program that dear Delilah and Drawcia are trying to get sponsors for?”
“Delilah is trying to fund that?”
“She’s the one who pressured it into being created about—oh, I suppose it’s been a decade,” Nightmare said, “Along with Drawcia and her sister Paintra. It’s really quite clever. There’s a storm brewing, Meta Knight, and she comes from a long line of privilege. But magic left that family line so long ago, and her influence is waning. So she thinks she’ll endear herself to the rising threat. It’s the opposite approach from Alera, who—”
“Or maybe she does care and is trying her best,” Meta Knight replied. “Maybe you just can’t imagine anyone doing anything out of kindness.”
“How did that poor, uncultured woman buy your loyalty?” Nightmare asked. “Do you enjoy being owned so much?”
“They don’t own me. I am contracted to them. You contract people to work for you, don’t you? It isn’t as if we’re in the pre-Bikaian era, and Dedede can march me off to the dungeons and have me flogged anytime he wants.”
“And if he did—hypothetically—do that, who precisely do you think would dare see him punished for it, hm? I just worry about you, pet. There are so many horror stories about the aristocracy these days.”
“The aristocracy that you’re now a part of. If you really are so concerned about me suffering injustices, why don’t you go to parliament and have them reconsider things? You have a seat now, don’t you?”
“What a novel idea.”
“Maybe you can persuade Haltmann to buy a title, too. You can do it together.”
Nightmare grimaced. “I sincerely doubt we’ll be doing anything of the kind.”
“Are you two still at odds?”
Nightmare glanced at his watch. “You’ll get to see for yourself at eleven. And this conversation has run longer than I anticipated. At any rate, let’s get you started, hm?”
“Yes, Father.”
Nightmare produced a list from the front pocket of his suit jacket. Meta Knight took it, looked it over, and raised an eyebrow. “A large coffee, twelve espresso shots, three pumps of caramel syrup, two pumps vanilla, three pumps dark chocolate, two pumps milk chocolate, six sugar, half-whole milk, half-skim milk, cinnamon powder, extra whip, caramel drizzle, in that order,” Meta Knight said. “Are you serious?”
Nightmare smirked and held out his credit card. “As a heart attack. Leave Galaxia in your car and fetch my coffee. Now hop to it, boy. I’m paying you to perform soul-crushing, menial tasks—not to sass me.”
Meta Knight took the card and put it in his wallet. He was not going to his usual coffee shop for this monstrosity of an order; the baristas would probably spit in his coffee until the end of time. “The sass comes free,” Meta Knight retorted.
Nightmare smirked. “I’m not above retaliation, child. Test me, and I’ll have you on your hands and knees scrubbing the bathroom floors with a toothbrush. Be back by nine-thirty.”
Maybe he ought to spit in his father’s coffee. “Yes, Father,” Meta Knight replied.
Meta Knight stood and turned away, the tablet held in one hand. “Oh, and Meta Knight?” Nightmare asked.
Meta Knight looked over his shoulder, expecting some sort of rebuke for walking across the floor incorrectly. Nightmare’s mouth was open like he meant to say something, but no words came. Instead, the wizard strode away from his desk and turned towards the massive floor-to-ceiling window behind him. “Aside from the things we discussed, you look…passable,” Nightmare said. “No, that isn’t quite right. You look better than passable. When did you become such a handsome, young man, Meta Knight?”
It was a strangely enchanting moment, the moment where Nightmare had gazed at him with curiosity and genuine fondness. It remained fixed in Meta Knight’s mind as he left the Holy Nightmare Corporation to fetch his father’s coffee. Maybe it would be fine. Maybe this time Father really would do better. Some part of him knew it was a foolish belief, but that small inkling of hope was too powerful for Meta Knight to let go. At least, it was until Meta Knight caught a glimpse of the red blotches on his jaw in the Halberd’s rearview mirrors. Just because Father hurt him didn’t mean he wasn’t trying, did it? If he was a little intense, that didn’t matter. He was trying. Wasn’t he?
|
“What d’you think a pretty face like yours is worth, huh?”
Dorian struggles not to press into the steady weight of the calloused fingers under his chin, the first touch he’s felt that wasn’t shackles and rope since he was left in the room after his capture. “Your life, I imagine,” he replies, and he swallows down his disappointment when the fingers leave his skin.
“Got a mouth on you too?” and Dorian’s opening said mouth to compliment the brute’s observational skills when his words are cut short, a thumb firm on his bottom lip, sliding over his teeth to push against his tongue. “Know what we do with mouthy bastards around here?”
Dorian swallows around the beast’s thumb, trying to ignore the spittle trailing down either side of his chin. The qunari stands mostly in shadow, but Dorian can see the broad outline of his shoulders and horns. There are few ways this could end well for him — even if he used his magic, he’s uncertain he could fell the brute before he incurred grievous bodily injury.
The thumb slides deeper into his mouth, nearly to his throat — though not enough to choke — before being pulled from his mouth in a long wipe across his lower lip. Dorian shudders, not entirely in control of the reaction. “What do you think we do, little mage?”
He’s had, then. The smuggler knows of his magic and is likely prepared to combat it, to protect himself in the face of Dorian’s attempt to light him up. “Something egregious, I would imagine.” He swallows again, and follows the path of the smuggler’s hand as it rests at the belt at his own waist, thick leather and polished steel. The man’s thumb is shiny with spit as he rubs it into the swarthy flesh of his paunch. Dorian’s struck by the startlingly clear mental image of his mouth pressed to that same skin, tasting the salt of the brute’s sweat.
“Nothing clandestine,” he replies before he’s thought it through, his voice too breathless, and the qunari laughs loud and full, the sound echoing in the confines of his cell.
He bends at the waist and stares at Dorian with his one grey eye, and then he winks, and Dorian feels the scene break around them, the warmth and size of the hearth across the room impossible on a ship, the ropes too carefully tied on his wrists and ankles. The wide stretch of Bull’s smirk. “No self-respecting one-eyed pirate would wink,” he snaps, his scowl ruined by the laughter bubbling up from his chest.
Bull brushes off the comment and hooks his thumb over his belt. “No trapped vint horrified of his savage captor would go straight for the sexy jugular.”
Dorian tips his head back against the wall and closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to look at Bull’s smug, handsome face. “Oh, I’m horrified all right.”
“Mmhmm,” Bull hums, and even with his eyes closed Dorian can see the shadow fall over him when Bull moves in close.
Bull’s thumb presses at his lips, and Dorian lets him part them, lets Bull slip his thumb into his mouth. “Think I’ll fuck your mouth raw,” Bull — shit, Dorian corrects, the smuggler says, and Dorian drags his teeth warningly over the brute’s knuckle. “Get a little taste before we decide if we’re going to sell you back to the people you’re running from, or keep you around for company.”
Dorian opens his eyes and does bite down then, hard enough that the smuggler swears under his breath and jerks his thumb out of Dorian’s mouth, his hand away from Dorian’s face.
“You can try,” Dorian snarls, and the smuggler holds his gaze for a long moment, considering, before slapping him.
Dorian curses at the bright sting of pain and the lingering ache, unable to rub it away with his own hand. It blossoms across his cheek and seems to move down his throat, spread across his chest as though the brute’s laid hands on his entire body.
He manages to withhold a shudder.
“Think I know what you want,” the smuggler tells him, and he moves in close again, until Dorian can see nothing beyond his face and the broad line of his shoulders. “Think you’re wanting to be convinced.”
Dorian snorts and tries to look anywhere but the brute’s all-seeing eye. He feels as though he’s been placed under a magnifying glass. “How would you go about that?”
“Could treat you right,” the smuggler says, drawing his brutish fingers through Dorian’s hair and forcing their gazes to meet. “You ever been treated right before, little mage?” He hooks the three remaining fingers on his other hand in the collar of Dorian’s robes and tugs, as though testing the fabric’s strength.
Dorian strains backwards away from the heat of the smuggler’s knuckles against his skin — but there’s little point to the maneuver, as almost immediately after the qunari releases his collar and trails his fingers down over Dorian’s chest.
“I have doubts about any claims made by someone of your caliber,” Dorian sneers, and he breathes in sharply when the smuggler drags the back of his hand over the front of Dorian’s trousers.
The smuggler’s one eye narrows at the same time that the man’s face twists into a leering grin. “Somebody’d better tell your cock.”
“Fuck.” Dorian’s head tips back when Bull curves his hand over his erection, and it’s hard to remember the game when that firm grip’s so near, just within reach. “Fuck you,” he manages to snarl, and Bull arches an eyebrow at him before schooling his expression.
“That what you want?” The smuggler squeezes Dorian’s cock once more before moving his hand up to the waistband of Dorian’s trousers. “Would you like that, if I stripped you down and used you?” Dorian feels the tie of his trousers loosen, and the sudden chill of the room on the skin below his navel. The smuggler’s hand smoothing down his stomach is a respite of warm calloused skin, only marred by the qunari’s rough laugh.
Dorian’s curious despite himself, despite how his body shudders at the slow-moving touch. “What? What could possibly be funny, you savage—”
“I’m considering leaving you like this,” the smuggler replies, voice easy-going like he’s stopped Dorian to ask for directions to the library. “Hard and straining in your smalls, and all you’ll have to occupy your time is hoping I come back and get you off.”
“You’re delusional.” But Dorian shakes in his bindings when the smuggler lifts an eyebrow and drags his knuckles across the front of Dorian’s smalls, and then slides his hand back to cup Dorian’s balls. “I’d — long for no such thing.”
“Longing, huh? Your word,” the smuggler replies, and sinks gracelessly to his knees. Dorian can’t stop the heat that flares in his gut, the way every muscle in his body tenses — from fear, if he were smart. From a sudden and quaking arousal, were he literally anything else, which he appears to be in this moment.
He strains against the ropes and chains when the great qunari shifts forward and opens his mouth against him, wets the front of his smalls with spit and licks up the length of his cock, the sensation barely dulled for the silk between them. “You ever wear something dantier? You’d look so good in pink, kadan.”
Dorian chokes on his laugh, dropping his head back against the wall. “You’re confusing your fantasies, amatus.”
Bull hums, and sucks at Dorian’s cock through the fabric. “Help me remember that one for later then.”
Dorian’s hips rock forward, and Bull glances up at him with a quick grin, which slips off his face when Dorian replies, “I think it’d agree with you more. Lace and tiny bows, and an opening in the front that lets me put my mouth on you.”
“You’re a little shit,” Bull says sternly, and Dorian’s laugh ends on a low moan when Bull leans in and bites at his thigh. “Hadn’t planned on giving you back bruised and broken, but that possibility’s looking better and better the more you open your mouth.”
“Beast,” Dorian hisses, and jerks against the bindings and the smuggler’s hot, savage mouth. "You overestimate my value. You'll gain little by returning me to my family... so damaged."
The smuggler arches a brow, and scrapes his cuspids, his fangs over Dorian's skin. The sensation spirals through him and he's back to shaking again, captured and tied by this qunari savage.
"They don't treat you good enough where you're from, pretty?" The smuggler slides his hands around Dorian's thighs and then up, until those massive palms are cupping Dorian's arse. It's — it's an intoxicating feeling, regardless of the circumstances, to be held so firmly by so large a man.
"I don't know what business that is of yo—!"
Dorian shouts when the smuggler leans forward and mouths at the head of his cock through his smalls again, the returned heat overwhelming in the relative chill of the room. The bindings holding him rattle as he shudders, and he can't help the way he presses forward into the smuggler's space, against the smuggler's soft and smiling lips.
"Ain't my business," the smuggler says, and kisses the wet patch he's left on Dorian's smalls. "But I don't think a Tevinter brat like you is gonna end up on a shitty dock in Rivain because he's looking to head home."
"And your alternative is — what, exactly?" Dorian snaps, and then immediately shudders when he hears his smalls tear, the brute likely hooking one of his massive claws in the fabric and tugging. The smuggler shoves them down Dorian's legs and they pool at his bound ankles.
Dorian forces himself still when the smuggler's hands return to his arse, fingers moving in slow circles over his skin, like they're getting a feel for him. Maker's breath.
"I like having pretty things around. I like taking pretty things to bed even more."
"Is this to bed then?" Dorian scowls, and lets out a yelp when the smuggler smacks one of his arsecheeks with one of his broad hands.
"This is where I keep you until I can be sure you won't kill me dead," the smuggler replies easily, and leans forward to lick a long stripe up the underside of Dorian's cock.
"Sweet fuck," Dorian gasps, and sags into Bull's grip on him. "Fuck, Bull, please."
"You're really bad at this," Bull chastises, but he deems it appropriate to take pity on Dorian and slides Dorian's cock between his lips, swallows him down in one smooth movement that has Dorian weak in the knees and relying solely on Bull's strength to stay upright.
"You're really—" Dorian starts, but gives up the spite of the response halfway there, "—good at this, fuck."
Bull laughs around his cock and Dorian, with the scene, the weight of Bull's grip on him, the press of Bull's tongue, feels his climax on the edges of his perception, just within reach.
When the smuggler pulls back, smirk pulling at the edges of his shining lips, Dorian snarls and bucks against the qunari's hold. "Savage, savage fucking—"
The smuggler's hands spread Dorian's arse, and one of his thick fingers slides between. "Ask nicely."
"Your mouth." Dorian whines when nothing happens beyond the press of one of the qunari's big fingers against his hole — sensation, sensation and nothing substantial, Dorian feels fit to shake apart from it, if only something would let him.
"Ask nicely," the smuggler repeats, and leans in to blow cool air along the length of Dorian's aching dick.
"Please," Dorian snaps, and his cock is swallowed back down into blissful heat and pressure.
==
Bull — no, the smuggler still, Dorian can feel the difference in the way the man's hands roam over his body instead of holding firm — picks Dorian up when he's bone-loose and shaking from his climax, undoing the restraints with a few simple gestures.
Dorian's not so much placed on the bed as he is laid out, and when the smuggler settles between his legs and mouths at his oversensitive cock, Dorian whines, making the attempt to bat at him with one weak arm. "You'll fuck me then."
"I had considered it," the smuggler says, mouth wandering down Dorian's inner thighs, to his knees. “Your ass is fucking incredible.” Bull huffs a laugh against the side of Dorian’s calf and adds, “And incredible for fucking.”
Dorian lets out a long groan and manages to lift his other leg enough to smack his foot into Bull’s massive side. “Maker save me from your seductions.”
Bull easily catches his foot at the ankle and turns his head, pressing a firm kiss against the arch of his sole, and Dorian has to drop his head back and breathe out slowly while his still-sensitive cock jerks against his stomach.
“But I’ve contemplated a couple things,” the smuggler continues, dropping Dorian’s foot back to the bed and crawling up between Dorian’s legs to loom over him, hands on either side of his hips. “Mostly how the instant I’m off my guard you’re gonna set me aflame.”
“I had considered it,” Dorian agrees, and in one smooth motion the smuggler has Dorian’s wrists in one of his gargantuan hands, and is bending his arms above his head on the bed. It strains his shoulders — Dorian can feel the tension throughout his entire back — and he swears to himself that he won’t allow the brute to know how much he likes the feeling.
The smuggler seems to know regardless, if his smirk is anything to go by, and he pushes down once on the hold he has on Dorian seemingly just to watch the way Dorian’s eyes go tight when he hisses at the sensation. The smuggler leans in, and scrapes his teeth over the edge of Dorian’s jaw in some bizarre qunari parody of a kiss. “I’d recommend keeping the fire to a minimum, being on a ship made of wood and all.”
“Ice then,” Dorian snaps, or tries to — his voice less firm than he’d like given the circumstances. But then the smuggler’s following the route his teeth took with his tongue, and for some reason it makes him feel the right kind of filthy. He’s heard stories, of rogue qunari in the jungles, sucking their captives dry once they were through sating their other thirsts. It sets Dorian’s blood aflame with a heady mix of fear and expectation, that mixes with the arousal thrumming low throughout him already. “Summoning the very spirits of the Fade to do my bidding.”
The smuggler’s hold on his wrists tightens at that, claws digging into the meat of Dorian’s arms. “Don’t tell me I suck cock bad enough you’d opt for possession as an alternative.”
Dorian laughs, and shudders when the smuggler bites down on the side of his neck, hard enough to set him shivering. “A warning,” he says breathlessly, and when the smuggler glances up at him, “a reminder, that were I to desire it, I’d have you dead now.”
The smuggler swears under his breath, but he doesn't sound upset, he sounds —
"Fuck, you're something," the smuggler says on a moan, and he lets up on Dorian's wrists enough to toss him over onto his stomach and lean back down, and lick across the top of his arse.
==
"Is this — is this what you learn on the high seas?" Dorian manages to pant against the sheets, and there's a rumbling laugh from behind him.
The smuggler shifts on the bed, and it takes a significant amount of Dorian's concentration to understand what he says, because he chooses to precede it by spitting on Dorian's hole, saliva mixing with the slick he's already used, and sliding one of his monstrous fingers in, slow, steady. "Eating out pretty vints?"
"Ye-es," Dorian replies, and he gasps when the smuggler licks around his own Maker-damned finger, warm and frankly. Frankly, wonderfully filthy. "Not something to be considered in the upper echelons of society."
"You're using real big words for a little mage I've got laid out on my bed," the smuggler says, and he presses his thumb against Dorian's perineum. He rubs the callouses of his thumb firmly over stretched skin, and licks into Dorian in one determined push, and Dorian grabs at the sheets on either side of his head, twisting them in his fists.
"Training. You learn to — ah, fuck, to focus on multiple things at once. It's. It's a requirement, if you. If you're not interested in waking up dead or, worse. Worse, w — boring."
"That so." The smuggler hums, and Dorian can feel the vibrations at the very base of his spine. "Sounds like a challenge." The smuggler scrapes his teeth over one of Dorian's arsecheeks, and then draws his hand over the skin. Dorian shudders, and breathes in sharply when Bull places a careful, soft kiss in the same place.
"'Nother idea. You read aloud from one of your old books and I get you off. You keep reading throughout, you win."
Dorian barks out a laugh, and turns his head enough to eye Bull over his shoulder. "And you win if you manage to distract me?"
Bull grins, wide and sharp. "When I distract you."
"Kaffas," Dorian laughs — and his whole body jerks and he lets out a sudden whimper when Bull rubs his finger against Dorian's hole, and leans in to suck one of Dorian's balls into his mouth. "That's — I don't have a book, this, this doesn't count."
Bull hums again, and Dorian drops his head to the mattress and bites down on his bottom lip. He needs... Shit.
"If we were playing now," Bull says when he pulls back, and his breath is shudderingly cool against Dorian's slick skin, "the stakes would be higher. I'd let you go. Or I'd have my way with you."
Dorian works one of his hands under his stomach, and presses his palm against his erection, only the most basic of relief. "I'll admit to not seeing the difference."
The smuggler growls, and Dorian holds his breath but keeps his hand where it is, encircling his cock.
"Put your hand back above your head, mage," the smuggler commands, and takes each of Dorian's thighs in his gargantuan grip. He spreads them further apart on the bed, dropping Dorian's hips lower, and Dorian hisses at the sudden delicious ache below the smuggler's hands, at the small of his back.
“Fuck you,” Dorian replies, more for the principle of it than anything else, and he sucks in a breath when the smuggler draws his hands up to Dorian’s arse and smacks his left cheek once, hard. Dorian tightens his hold and lets the jump of his hips when the smuggler lays out another slap against his arse drive his cock between his fisted fingers. “Fuck, Bull.”
“Put your hand back above your head,” the smuggler repeats, and rubs his hand over Dorian’s arse in firm circles, smoothing the sting into an ache, before spanking him again, a series of quick, steady hits that leave Dorian shaking, and so close. So —
And of course the smuggler stops, his hand leaving Dorian’s arse, the warmth of his bulk shifting on the bed behind him. Dorian draws his hand more quickly over his cock, chasing — fuck, his second orgasm is justifiably more difficult in, ha, coming, and normally he has Bull’s clever mouth or fingers providing support, so it’s. It’s —
The smuggler grabs him by the hips and flips him onto his back in one fluid motion. Dorian strikes out with both arms to steady himself, one hand twisting in the sheets and the other scrabbling against the smuggler’s shoulder, neck. He curves his fingers around to the back of the smuggler’s skull and — it hits him, the idea, and he grins as he tries to catch his breath, and at Bull’s answering lifted eyebrow, he reaches for the Fade and finds electricity, and sends it dancing down Bull’s back.
“Sweet fuck,” Bull hisses, dropping his head forward as the skin underneath Dorian’s fingertips jumps.
“A warning.” Dorian raises his other hand from the sheets and wraps it around one of the smuggler’s horns. He lets the magic bleed out, and lays his palm flat over the back of the smuggler’s neck. “That you are not in control here, qunari.”
“A challenge,” the smuggler replies, voice wavering, and Bull leans down to kiss him, and take Dorian’s cock in hand.
==
There’s always a point at which Dorian loses the thread of their game, at which Bull is no longer the smuggler, or the spy, or — Andraste’s arse, a personalfavorite — the warrior returned from deployment and eager to be reunited with his favorite tamassran.
There is a point at which Bull is only Bull, and Dorian loses himself.
==
“That electricity thing,” Bull tells him later, Dorian’s face pressed against Bull’s neck, Bull’s chin butting against the top of Dorian’s head when he talks. “You’re gonna do that again.”
Dorian says, still breathless, voice muffled, “Am I?”
“Uh, maybe a lot,” Bull clarifies, and Dorian closes his eyes and laughs. |
October 11, 20xx
SS: So Blondie and the Champ played chicken slash puppet master with two of their closest friends? And they STILL got them to finally fess up and kiss?!
FS: Uh huh! (Porcupine stamp with ‘love’ under it; Black cat stamp with the same)
SS: I’m both sad that I missed it, and proud that I didn’t have to be involved to make it happen
FS: How’s shadowing the doctor going?
SS: Good. Interesting but not exciting, which is probably a good thing
“Shiho? Did something good happen?” Takemi asked. “You’re smiling.”
Shiho looked up from her phone. She was sitting in the cafeteria at The University of Tokyo Hospital, where she was shadowing Tae Takemi during a call shift. “Just two good friends of mine finally finding each other.”
Takemi sighed, sitting down across from Shiho. She slid a can of tea across to the girl. “You kids and your romances.” She laughed. “It’s enough to make me feel old.”
Shiho snorted, eyeing Takemi’s minidress and fishnets. As the doctor crossed her legs while leaning back in her chair, there was a crash and a curse as a passing cafeteria employee ran his trolley full of trays and used dishes head on into a wall. The man sheepishly and quickly picked up his mess, pointedly not looking at Takemi’s legs.
“Right. You, feeling old .” Shiho said.
Takemi smirked, sipping her own tea. “Well. It’s not as if my life leaves me much time for a relationship, Shiho.”
Shiho shrugged. “So you keep saying. But you said yourself that this call shift is a one off, didn’t you? You’re a staff endocrinologist, so you’re not usually here at night. You’re just covering for your fellow. That means--”
“That means that once this call shift is over, I’m back to my usual routine of my clinical work, administrative meetings and research, and running my clinic in Yongen.” Takemi shook her head, chuckling. “Just because you played matchmaker with four of your friends doesn’t mean you should start in on me. Let it go, Shiho. I’m happy.”
Shiho shrugged. “Alright… So, that consultation from Hayakawa-sensei was pretty interesting.”
“Mm. I was impressed with how prompt he was. Sometimes, getting a surgical consult can be challenging. They’re busy and often swamped by calls.”
Shiho nodded. “It’s amazing… Iwatani-san just had some nagging leg pain, but she’s going to leave with a surgery. What did he call it? An impending atypical femur fracture from bisphosphonate use?”
“That’s right.” Takemi said.
“What surgery is he going to do?”
“It’s called an intramedullary nail.” Takemi said. “Basically they drill out the center of the femur, and then insert a long metal rod down.”
“Ah.” Shiho paused. “And how do they get it in there?”
“Usually a hammer - orthopedics can sometimes be a bit rough. The nail has to be a tight fit, from what he says.”
“Right, right. So Hayakawa-sensei is a young, attractive surgeon who’s really good at pounding things into tight spaces.” Shiho said, innocently. “And an expert in nailing things.”
Takemi performed a spit take, coughing. “Shiho!”
“What?” Shiho asked, grinning. “You were so into him.”
Takemi looked uncharacteristically flustered, a faint blush creeping across her pale skin. She really was into him. “Look. He’s a new staff surgeon, just getting his practice going. I’m relatively new as well. Do you think either of us have the time? Besides, I’m sure he’s already marr--”
“No ring. And before you ask, no tan-line were a ring would be, and nothing around his neck where he might keep it on a chain because of his job.” Shiho said. “And he kept trying not to look at your chest or your legs. He’s really into you, too.”
“...You’re almost scary sometimes, Shiho.” Takemi said, starting to laugh. She glanced over at the windows overlooking the hospital’s emergency entrance. Red and white flashing lights caught her eye as an ambulance pulled up below.
“Call it a talent.” Shiho said, grinning.
“And what about you, Shiho? Did you take my advice?” Takemi asked, raising an eyebrow.
“...I did, in a way. I went up on that roof a couple weeks ago.” Shiho replied.
“And?”
“I’m not the person who I was back then.” Shiho said, firmly. “I’m not just meddling in my friends’ lives to avoid living my own.”
Takemi nodded. “Good. So, you’re going to stop living vicariously through everyone…?”
“Oh, hell no. It’s way too much fun. I can’t make people in the dramas and animes do things the way I can in real life.” Shiho pantomimed making puppets dance.
Takemi snorted in amusement, glancing up again at the windows. A crowd was gathering - not the usual response of a busy hospital to a single ambulance arriving. “What in the world…”
She and Shiho stood, approaching the windows. It was indeed a single ambulance - surrounded by both police escort as well as private security. In hot pursuit, there were multiple news vans and reporters. A single stretcher was brought out. They couldn’t see who it was from the cafeteria, but the patient had been intubated in the field and was being ventilated by one of the paramedics. The policemen and security worked together to push back the encroaching media.
Another car pulled up from the opposite direction; a single person stepped out from the back. A woman - probably a girl, from her slight figure. The flashing light of the ambulance caught her face.
“...Haru-chan!” Shiho gasped.
Takemi frowned, as members of the media seemed to notice as well - they started to lurch towards the girl like a horde of zombies. “Shiho, that’s a friend of yours? Stay here. I’ll go down and.. ...Shiho?”
She was already gone.
>>>
“Haru Okumura? Aren’t you Haru Okumura?!”
“Excuse me, Okumura-san. Do you have any comment on what happened?”
“Do you have any insight as to what your father was going to say?!”
“Do you have any words for the Phantom Thieves?! Did they kill your father?”
Haru stared numbly at the flashing cameras, the microphones pointed at her. The police and security were preoccupied with protecting her father. Some part of her registered this as a good thing - if she was distracting them from trying to take pictures of Kunikazu Okumura, this was a good thing. But it meant she couldn’t run to him. It meant she couldn’t see him. It meant she couldn’t confirm whether or not she had been complicit in the death of her father.
Sound seemed to fade away from her world. It became hollow and dull, like someone had encased her in the same glass that had been around the cognitive projection of Kurenai. Things blurred. Someone shoved another microphone in her face. A camera flash stole her vision, leaving ghostly afterimages.
Someone grabbed her wrist.
“...from her!”
Haru blinked. That was a familiar voice.
“ Get away from her! What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Shiho screamed. She shoved her way to Haru’s side, taking hold of her wrist. She started dragging the girl toward the hospital entrance, pushing aside microphones and cameras.
A particularly sleazy looking paparazzo barred the way. “The people have a right to know. This is big news. Everyone’s going to ask her these questions anyway, so she might as well get it over with.”
“It can wait.” Shiho snarled, moving to get around him.
The man grabbed Shiho’s elbow. “No. It can’t. I’m not going to let myself get scooped just because of some dumb bitch with a bleeding heart.”
Shiho’s eyes widened. She felt sick at the rough and unwanted touch on her arm. In an instant, the trauma of months prior flooded back to her mind - the laughter, the sound of her clothes tearing. The crude voice and language. The warped hope that it would end at just a beating. The despair in those moments before Ryuji’s arrival when she realized it wouldn’t. In these seconds, the paparazzo’s face seemed to warp, started to look familiar… Shiho froze up.
She felt Haru’s wrist move - it compelled Shiho to look away from the face of Kamoshida and brought her back to reality. She instead looked at the girl she had become fast friends with during the sleepover at Ann’s place. Normally so composed, she looked pale; her hair was disheveled. Her eyes were wide.
‘...No.’
Shiho turned back to the paparazzo. She still saw Kamoshida’s face. But instead of hopeless despair, she felt rage . The man tried to shove Shiho aside to get to Haru.
“Now, Okumura-san…--Augh! Fuck!”
Shiho did as she, Futaba, and Haru had been taught by Ren. A single, full-force strike to a vulnerable area, aiming past the target in order to maximize the damage. The paparazzo screamed like he had been shot when he was kicked in the shin, where there was nothing but skin over the bone. He instantly let go of Shiho.
“Haru-chan, come on!” Shiho said, shoving Haru forward, past the crowd. She paused beside the man, who was doubled over. He reached out, flailing - his hand again caught Shiho’s arm.
Shiho smiled. ‘That means this counts as self-defense, right?’
She rammed her knee into the man’s groin.
>>>
Haru and Shiho sat on the couch in the office that Takemi kept at the hospital. They had been there for the past half hour, waiting for Takemi to return with news. Haru stared numbly at the now lukewarm can of tea in her hands. Besides saying ‘thank you’ to Shiho and Takemi, the heiress had been basically silent.
The door opened. Haru started to stand respectfully on seeing Takemi; the woman stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. She pulled a chair up to sit down across from Haru and Shiho.
“Takemi-sensei…” Haru grimaced; she hadn’t realized how dry her throat was. She took a sip of her tea before putting the can down on the end table beside the couch. “How is my father?”
Takemi shook her head slowly. “...Okumura-san, I’m sorry. There’s no easy way for me say this.”
“Please.” Haru replied, stiffly.
“Your father is breathing with the help of a ventilator. His heart is beating.” Takemi began. Her expression told the girls that this was not good news. “But he isn’t responding to any external stimulus. The ICU is still running tests, but it seems he’s suffered a mental shutdown.”
There was a silence in the room.
Haru drew herself up. She took a deep breath. “...I see. When will we know more?”
“During the next few days.” Takemi said. “Is there anyone I can call?”
“No. There’s no one left.” Haru shook her head. She looked remarkably composed, but Shiho saw the way she clasped her hands; her knuckles were turning white. She started to reach over to Haru’s hands in sympathy. The door opened again, announcing the arrival of another visitor.
“I wouldn’t say there’s no one left, ojou-sama.”
>>>
October 13, 20xx
Haru sat at her father’s bedside in a private room at the hospital. He was still intubated and attached to the ventilator. Soft, regular beeping in the background cut into the air of the otherwise quiet room, a constant reminder that the heart of the man in front of her was still beating. Still beating, but pumping blood to a brain that had long since ceased to function. As she held her father’s hand, she glanced up at the doctor in charge of her father’s care. She barely remembered his name; he was young, intimidated by her family name. Tae Takemi was there anyway, and she had been a godsend. She treated Haru simply with the respect and care due to the closest family member of the patient and acted as something of a ‘medical interpreter’ for Haru. It was an important role, given the parade of professionals that gave her, the sole living relative, their opinions and findings.
‘Haru… what it all means is that mental shutdowns are variable. In some cases, people are able to walk and move, so long as they’re led about. They’ll eat, if food is given to them. But they won’t speak; they won’t do anything of their own volition. It’s debatable if they’re truly ‘alive’. In other cases, the shock is so severe that the victims have something like a heart attack and die immediately.’
‘...And my father?’
Haru smiled bitterly. Prior to this, her father’s health wasn’t the best. But he was still an obstinate, stubborn man. He should have been one of the latter cases - someone who died due to the shock of having his mind stolen from him. But it seemed that his grit had pushed him into a grey area. Seemingly every test imaginable had been run on Kunikazu Okumura, owing to his wealth and influence. Physical exams by neurologists and intensivists. MRI angiography of his brain. Electroencephalography. Takemi had explained each of them to her as best as she was able. Haru’s astute mind boiled down the pages and pages of reports into a simple, unbiased conclusion:
He would never walk. He would never eat. He would never open his eyes.
He would never tell his daughter he loved her.
Kunikazu Okumura was gone.
But his heart was still beating.
And so, Haru Okumura, the sole remaining member of the Okumura family, had one final duty to carry out for her father. The man who she had just started thinking of as ‘Father’ once more. Haru looked at Takemi. She nodded, once, before her eyes returned to Kunikazu.
‘You’re right. As you are, you aren’t my father. You aren’t the man that Kurenai Okumura loved; you aren’t the man who took me to dance class, or took me to visit Mother…. But a completely evil man wouldn’t care to remember those moments, would he? … Kunikazu-- ...Father. We can’t go back to those days. Not ever. But… but I hope we can try to move forward, together.’
Takemi looked at the nameless young ICU doctor. He shook his head, gesturing to Takemi - he had been effectively reduced a figurehead, anyway. She nodded, stepping forward.
“Haru… I’m turning off the ventilator.”
Haru nodded once more, her eyes remaining fixed on her father’s face. His eyes were closed; his chest rose and fell in time with the ventilator. She recalled watching movies where characters would boldly state that they didn’t want their loved one to remember them ‘like this’.
Instead, the sole heir of the Okumura family forced herself to remember. Forced herself to commit to memory the way his face looked so still; the way his chest ceased to rise and fall. She imprinted the sound of the slow beeps of his EKG becoming slower… slower.
And then a single long tone, fading into silence as Takemi mercifully shut the machine off.
Kunikazu Okumura was gone.
His heart was no longer beating.
Haru didn’t cry. She refused. She didn’t want the tears to blur her vision as she looked over her father. She squeezed his still-warm hand as she remembered his final words to her.
‘We will be a family again. One that Kurenai will watch over proudly.’
“...Take as long as you need, Haru. We’ll be outside.”
Takemi and the other physician left the room; Rui Tachibana stood silently at the doorway. The woman had re-entered Haru’s life, becoming her shadow and confidant in the same way she had been for Kurenai.
Haru let go of Kunikazu’s hand, reaching up to gently touch her father’s face, now free of the endotracheal tube.
She forced herself to remember every last detail. It galvanized her; it resolved her. It made her realize that she had been wrong.
The daughter of Okumura had one more duty to perform.
Taking vengeance.
>>>
Ren arrived at the hospital ahead of the other Phantom Thieves, moving quickly. He glanced again at his phone to check the time as well as the room number. He scanned the group chat.
HO: My father has passed. I thought you all should find out from me, rather than the news
AT: Oh, Haru…
FS: Haru…
MN: I’m sorry
RS: that’s terrible
YK: My condolences, Haru… Is there anything we can do?
HO: No. I’ll be away from school for a few days.
RA: I’m nearby - I’ll drop by.
AT: Yeah… Haru, you shouldn’t be alone right now.
HO: It’s fine
MN: No, Ann’s probably right, Haru…
Eventually, Haru relented to the urging of her concerned friends. Ren reached the room, recoiling reflexively at the sight of the real Rui Tachibana standing guard outside. The woman was every bit as tall and fit as her cognition had been. Her dark blue hair was pulled back into a high warrior’s ponytail; bangs framed her face. In the real world, she wore a charcoal business suit with a pencil skirt rather than the Tron-inspired bodysuit and shield. But, she was no less intimidating.
The effect, Ren noted, was similar to when he had seen Mamoru Yamanaka in a suit.
The suit fit the body, but it didn’t fit the woman. This person was dangerous.
Tachibana spotted Ren. She eyed him from behind a pair of black-framed glasses. After a moment, she smiled. “Ah. Amamiya-san.”
Ren didn’t question how she knew his name. He just bowed politely. “Tachibana-san. Is Haru inside?”
The woman didn’t seem surprised that Ren knew who she was. She just nodded. “Go on in.”
Ren passed by, catching the shape of a pistol holstered under her suit jacket.
Haru stood inside the clean and empty hospital room, looking out at the parking lot below. It was starting to rain. The bed was empty, made up for the next patient already. Kunikazu’s few possessions he had on him at the time of the conference were packed up into a small bag beside the heiress. Ren started to say something, but his gut told him to hold off. There was a certain tension in the room that touched the finely honed instincts of the boxer.
After a long silence, Ren spoke up carefully.
“Haru… Are you okay?”
“...Yes. Thank you for coming, Ren-kun.” She replied, in her usual polite tone. She didn’t turn around. “It’s getting late, though. Shouldn’t you head home?”
“It’s fine, Haru. The others are coming anyway.” Ren said, relaxing slightly.
“They also need the room, Ren-kun. Really, I’m fine. You should go.” Haru replied. She still didn’t turn to face Ren.
“If… if there’s anything we can do. If there’s anything I can do…” Ren said, glancing at the floor. He missed how Haru’s shoulders tightened up.
Lightning flashed outside; thunder rolled in the distance.
“Haven’t you done enough?” Haru asked. Her voice took on a very different tone. It reminded him of the quiet swipe of the whetstone on a knife.
“...Excuse me?”
“I said, haven’t you done enough?” Haru said. She turned to face Ren. Tears fell; she trembled as she started to lose composure. “You said it would be fine. All of you did. It was supposed to be so simple…”
“Haru, what--” Ren started to say, surprised.
“Just go through with it, finish the mission. Then I’d save the father I loved. We would be a family again.” Haru said, her fists clenched at her sides. She hissed through clenched teeth. “I was so stupid .”
Ren’s felt the floor fall away from him. Haru blamed the Phantom Thieves - or, more accurately, she blamed him . He had to fix this.
“Haru. Haru, I know what you’re thinking. The calling card they found in Kobayakawa’s office, we didn’t--”
“I know. I know that.” Haru said, shaking her head. “The timing was completely wrong. We were in Hawaii. And you had no reason to go after him. But how could you possibly know what I’m thinking! What I’m feeling!”
Haru stepped closer to Ren, aggressively. She jabbed a finger at him.
“The worst part of this… the worst part of this is that you were right . I got to see the father I thought I lost. Before I met you, all of you, I gave up on seeing him again! I accepted it !” Haru shouted. “Because of you, I dared to hope, and this is what happens! He’s gone! He’s gone, and I’m alone !”
Ren raised his hands in a placating gesture. He shook his head, his eyes wide. “Haru… If you need to blame me, I understand. I--”
“Shut up. Just shut up. I’m sick of it. I’m sick of that kind smile, the way you try to take care of everyone like you know what you’re doing. You don’t. None of us did, and now my father’s gone! Get out. Get OUT!” She screamed in a tired, broken voice. She shoved him.
Ren stumbled as he backed up. He turned and left hastily. He strode quickly past Tachibana; he nearly bowled Futaba and Ann over in the hallway.
“!? RenRen?” Futaba asked. “Where--”
He kept moving. Ann caught the look on Ren’s face - the boxer looked like he was going to be sick.
Ann turned toward Ren; she ran down the hallway after him. She looked over her shoulder. “Futaba! Go and check on Haru, I’ll see to Ren.”
“R-Right!” Futaba said. Her phone buzzed; she looked down to check the text.
>>>
October 16, 20xx
It was a quiet night at Crossroads. It usually was, on Sundays. So, Lala was a little surprised to see Ren darken her doorway to provide some live music. Most of his salary was from tips, after all. Hard to get tips from empty chairs. But, the veteran bartender was cagey enough to recognize a man who needed a safe place to think. She just nodded at him, motioning to the piano.
“Go on ahead, Miyaya. The usual?”
“Yeah, Lala-chan. Thanks.”
The soft sounds of the Yamaha filled the bar as he started playing. In another moment, Lala stopped beside Ren, placing a glass tumbler on the empty stool beside the piano bench. “Rum and Coke Zero, Miyaya…”
“Hold the rum.” Ren said, in unison with Lala. He showed a wan smile at the tired joke. “Thanks again.”
Lala nodded. “I’ll be in my dressing room. If a customer comes in or if you need an ear, let me know.”
“You got it, boss.”
Ren let his hands move, drifting from song to song as he sank into his thoughts. It had been a rough few days for their little ‘family’. Predictably, after news of Kunikazu Okumura’s mental shutdown and death became widely known, public opinion completely turned against the Phantom Thieves. It was all over the news, the website, and the school.
‘I mean, I was all about the Phantom Thieves before… but did Okumura really deserve that?’
‘It was basically a public execution.’
‘Doesn’t his daughter go to school here, too?’
Ren missed a note, thinking of the last conversation - if it could be called that - he had with Haru. He recognized it for what it was, particularly after learning more details from Shiho, Takemi, and surprisingly, Tachibana. He only learned after the fact that Kunikazu hadn’t simply passed away - Haru, being the only remaining relative, had to make the decision to let him go, to turn off the ventilator that was keeping Kunikazu alive. Haru was a girl who lost her only remaining parent only days after getting him back. She needed to lash out and Ren was a convenient target.
She was still a member of his team - still one of his friends - and if being a punching bag helped her, then so be it.
He sighed. But there was more. As public opinion changed in response to Kunikazu’s fate, yet more information was leaked to the masses (and the Phantom Thieves).
Kamoshida, comatose and effectively dead after being assaulted in prison.
Madarame, deceased after a heart attack while in custody.
Kaneshiro, dead in a motor vehicle collision - one that the police and SID suspected was caused by a psychotic break.
Haruto Sato, the man thought to be the ‘Medjed’ that targeted the Phantom Thieves, dead of an apparent self-inflicted gunshot wound. Apparent, because the police were now stating they suspected foul play. They didn’t mention the Phantom Thieves, but didn’t deny that they were suspects.
The news of all these deaths broke almost simultaneously, only increasing the intensity of the uproar.
Ren shook his head.
‘We’re trapped. We didn’t know that all of our previous targets are effectively dead. We’re being blamed for the deaths of five criminals. Six, if you count Kobayakawa. It’s too perfect. Kunikazu Okumura dies after admitting his own crimes, but before he can reveal the conspiracy. Then after , a fake calling card just happens to get discovered. In Kobayakawa’s office, a room already searched multiple times.’
If the calling card had appeared before Okumura, then that might have changed the Phantom Thieves’ focus. They likely would have held off from any other activity until they learned more about where the calling card came from. As it was, the timing was perfectly set up to lay six deaths at the feet of the Phantom Thieves.
‘What we don’t know is why. What’s the gain, here? Kunikazu Okumura called himself a cog in a greater conspiracy. ...What kind of fire are we playing with? Haru’s lost a parent. So has Futaba. It’s not like we have nothing to lose....’
Ren looked up, hearing the familiar sound of Ann’s footsteps. He smiled. “Hey, Songbird.”
“Hey, Wildcard. Got your text.” She said, smiling. She sat down on the bench beside Ren. “You doing okay…?”
“As well as any of us can be, I think.” Ren said, sighing. He continued to play. “More importantly, Haru…?”
“She’s alright. She’s going to come back to school on Thursday and meet up with us afterward. She’s sorry about what she said to you; she’s just working up the courage to apologize to you in person.”
Ren shook his head. “She has every right to be angry, Ann. If it wasn’t for me…”
“If it wasn’t for all of us , she’d be married to a perverted, abusive monster. Or she’d have killed herself feeling unloved and abandoned by the only family she had left.” Ann said, firmly.
Ren sighed. “...Yeah. I know.”
“Then why are you here alone, moping?” Ann asked.
“I’m not alone.” Ren said. He smiled at her. “I’m with you. Why do you think I texted you? Misery loves company.”
“Mm. So you are learning. Finally.” Ann said, sighing. “But really. It’s the night before midterms, and you’re dragging me out like this? I could be studying.”
Ren sighed. “What do you want…?”
Ann blinked, recoiling slightly. “Excuse me?”
“Well, you probably weren’t studying.” Ren said, smirking. “Not after our last session on Saturday, when you said you were ‘done’. If you’re bringing up studying in this context and with that drawn-out sigh, that means you’re trying to leverage guilt into getting something out of me.”
Ann scoffed. She raised her nose in the air, crossing her arms, her eyes closed. “Hmmph.”
She held that pose for a second. She opened an eye to peer at Ren.
Ren raised an eyebrow.
Ann started giggling, leaning against Ren. She smiled up at him. “You’re not wrong. I do want something.”
Ren grinned. “And?”
“A song.”
“Oh? Well, that’s easy--”
“No. Can you sing to me again? Without a blindfold this time?” Ann asked.
Ren frowned. “...I don’t know, Songbird.”
“...Please…?” She pouted.
“...Any requests?” Ren asked, his will to resist crumbling almost immediately at the look on her face. He shelved his resolution to somehow build up an immunity against Ann’s expression for a later time; it was simply too much fun to give in.
“No. Anything’s fine.” Ann said, leaning against him.
“Hm. Alright…” Ren said, thinking. He started playing one of the first jazz songs he learned. The melody sounded lonely and melancholy. “I used to play this when I was feeling down. Something about how sad songs are best during sad times, I guess.”
He stole a glance at Ann. Even though there wasn’t a blindfold, she still kept her eyes on the piano. Her eyes flitted to him briefly, favoring him with a wink, before going back to the keys. Ren smiled slightly, and started to sing.
“They’re writing songs of love
But not for me
A lucky star’s above
But not for me
With love to lead the way
I’ve found more clouds of grey
Than any Russian play could guarantee
I was a fool to fall and get that way
Heigh-ho, alas, and also, lack-a-day
Although I can't dismiss the memory of her kiss
I guess she's not for me”
Ren continued playing the melody, nearly missing a note as Ann kissed his slightly red cheek.
“You’re cute when you sing.”
Ren grinned. “I’m not cute any other time?”
“No. You are. When you’re sleeping, too.” Ann said, smiling. “It’s actually pretty similar. You look peaceful, like you’re finally not thinking about the things that you worry about all the time.”
“I worry all the time?” Ren asked. He did, he knew. But as usual, he found himself fascinated by the girl sitting beside him.
“You do.” Ann nodded. She looked up at him again, hugging his arm as he stopped playing. “You worry about the team. You worry about all of your friends and family. You worry about me. And lately, there’s been something else, too.”
She looked at him expectantly.
Ren shook his head slowly. “...It’s almost terrifying how you do that, you know? When did I let you in so far?”
She shrugged. “I could read you like a book from almost the moment we met, remember?”
“Right. Right…” Ren sighed. “It’s a few things. First, what happened to Haru and by extension, Futaba. With Futaba, we didn’t dwell on it because her mother died long before the Phantom Thieves were involved. But with Haru… It’s terrifying. Even if we didn’t directly kill him, I can’t rule out the fact that it happened because we came into the picture. It makes me think. All of us have loved ones. All of us could lose someone.”
Ann nodded, resting her head on Ren’s shoulder. “I think all of us have been thinking of that, lately. The other day, Ryuji tried to foist tickets to some police movie off on me because he wanted to spend more time with his mom and Makoto was too worried about her sister being stressed out.”
“And the second thing… My abilities in the Metaverse have become more unstable.”
Ann frowned. “I noticed. We all did. In hindsight, we were all a little careless. When you reappeared in that fight against Madarame with those armguards, we were all just too happy to have you back to question it.”
“Yeah. It’s hard to question a decisive advantage like that. But the last two times - against Tachibana, and then briefly, against Kunikazu Okumura… It felt different. Each time, it put me down for almost the entire day afterwards. And normally when I’m using it, I feel…”
Ren gestured, looking for words.
“...Normally it feels like I’m flying, for a lack of better words. Like I’m weightless on my feet, but with all the punching power I could ever want. Like I’m the ideal boxer I imagine. But the last two times, it was different. It was… it was like a cup with water filled to the brim. The meniscus forms on top, the surface tension keeps it from overflowing. Barely . All it needs is a little push…”
“Can’t you stop using it, then?” Ann asked, quietly.
“If it means saving the rest of you, then no. I won’t stop using it.” Ren said, shaking his head.
Ann started to protest, but paused, instead studying her… lately, the term ‘boyfriend’ didn’t seem to be quite enough to describe him. He was resolved to give everything he had to his friends. She smiled in resignation, touching his cheek with her free hand. She thought back to what she had told Reiko, so many months ago.
‘He loves so much that it fills his heart and head and when the people he cares about are happy, he’s happy. But if they’re hurting, especially if they’re hurting because of him… It kills him. It hurts him more than he deserves.’
“Songbird?”
Ann shook her head. “...It’s nothing, Wildcard. I think… I think right now, we don’t have any option but to move forward, don’t we? We have a responsibility to Haru and Futaba, and countless others. No one else has a lead on who the real culprit is. If we just back off, there’s no guarantee that we or our loved ones would be safe.”
Ren nodded. “Right.”
“And as for your ‘Black Wing’... ...Do what you have to, Wildcard. I’ll always be there to pick up the pieces.”
>>>
October 20, 20xx
Midterms came and went. With the help of Makoto and Ren, the Phantom Thieves survived; the police presence at Shujin, there to interview the students and faculty, served as extra motivation for the team to look like they were studious, future productive members of society. They now gathered in the boxing club room, with Yamada and a few of his boys situated outside the entrance to prevent any interruptions. Unfortunately, it seemed as though Akechi was starting to visit Leblanc more frequently, once again making meetings in the attic a little more challenging. Ironically, the Detective Prince himself was the topic of the day’s meeting.
“So we’re all in agreement?” Ren asked, his grey eyes surveying the group. They all nodded, or gave a quiet affirmation. Ryuji hesitated.
“Tch… ...Yeah. Fine.” The blonde boy muttered.
Ren nodded, turning finally to Haru. Ren met Haru privately before the meeting on the roof, helping her tend her garden. She had apologized for lashing out, but things were far from over from her perspective.
‘Ren-kun, I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that. But I’ve had a lot of time to think. I think I can’t let go… I can’t truly lay my father to rest until I have revenge.’
‘You mean justice?’
‘I think in this case, they’re the same thing.’
He had been struck by how cold she sounded. It was similar to when the heiress had entertained the thought of guaranteeing her freedom by killing her father’s Shadow. But this time, it wasn’t a passing cloud on a sunny day. This time, it was more like a dense fog surrounding the girl, something that settled down, just beneath your notice.
Until it rose up to obscure your vision, right before the killing blow.
“Haru?”
“...Yes. I’m certain.” Haru nodded, firmly.
Makoto sighed. She rolled her shoulders, feeling a small degree of tension bleed away at having at least made a decision. “Good. Then it’s settled. I’ll contact Akechi, and ask him to be the guest at the cultural festival. And speaking of the cultural festival. Ren, Ann, Ryuji - the three of you will be joining Haru and I on the committee.”
Ryuji blinked. “...Wait, what?!”
Ren frowned. “Wouldn’t suddenly adding us to the committee raise suspicions? Don’t get me wrong. I understand what you’re trying to do. You want to give us a legitimate reason to be seen around each other.”
Makoto nodded. “That’s right. But new additions aren’t unreasonable. The committee is a mess this year; that’s actually why we didn’t collect the votes and contact Akechi already, even though the festival is on the 25th. Everyone knows we need help.”
“Aw, man…” Ryuji mumbled.
Ann rolled her eyes. “Come on, Ryuji. Just think of it as more quality time with your girlfriend .”
At that, both Ryuji and Makoto turned red. They suddenly realized their proximity - right beside each other on the floor of the boxing ring - and shuffled a good metre further away from each other.
“Oh, yeah , that’ll fool us.” Futaba said, sarcastically. Her voice was slightly tinny, coming through on Ren’s smartphone. She and Yusuke were listening in from off-site, rather than trying to sneak onto campus while the police were actively investigating.
Ren waved a hand. “We shouldn’t tease. They haven’t even kissed. If we keep it up, they’ll never progress and just continue to annoy the rest of us.”
Ryuji glared at Ren. “Uh, excuse me? We’ve totally kissed. It was right after--mmph!”
Makoto had a hand clamped over Ryuji’s mouth. “God… Ryuji, look at Ren’s face. Right now.”
Ren had a Cheshire-cat grin at the successful trap. “We’ll adjourn for now, then. Since Makoto and Ryuji can’t keep their hands off each other.”
With an indignant squawk, Makoto again created distance between herself and Ryuji. Although the Phantom Thieves family knew they were ‘official’, the student council president and former track star still hadn’t managed to figure out if having their relationship acknowledged should make them feel happy, embarrassed, or both. So they settled on hilariously awkward and easy to tease.
As the team filed out, Ren caught Haru at the door.
“Haru… Are you sure you’re ok?”
She stared at Ren, for a long moment, her face carefully composed.
“No. But I will be.”
>>>
October 21, 20xx
“You’re running out of time, Niijima.” Arai sat behind his heavy oak desk, his arms crossed as he leaned back in his leather chair. “What do you have so far?”
Sae returned Arai’s stare with a sharp glare of her own.
“It’s laid out in the report right in front of you.”
“I have. But I’d like to hear you describe your findings as well.” Arai said, smirking. The power game was obvious - this meeting served no purpose other than to remind Sae that she was nearly out of time, and that she had nothing she could do about it.
She grit her teeth, before speaking slowly, with carefully chosen words. Cursing out her boss would feel good for a second , she told herself. Though each moment she had to look at his smug face made it seem more and more worth it.
“Right now, we’ve found connections linking Kamoshida to Kobayakawa, Kobayakawa to Kaneshiro, and Kaneshiro to Madarame. It seems as though Madarame was laundering money for both Kaneshiro and Okumura, also.”
Sae paused. She leaned forward, opening the report to the last page.
“And by investigating Shujin further, we found the link between Kobayakawa and Okumura. A combination of blackmail and nepotism. If Okumura wanted to reward an underling or bribe a partner who had a child enrolled in Shujin, he’d get Kobayakawa to advance them in any way required - padding a GPA, writing a letter. Or he’d fast-track their transfer to Shujin. If he wanted to blackmail or punish someone, and they were unlucky enough to have a child at Shujin, then the opposite. Letters hurting their chances, or transfers out. Some transfers, in fact, to a ‘Takabe Academy’, which doesn’t even exist. Those students simply went missing. Moreover, Kobayakawa served as a go-between for Okumura and Madarame. It seems as though Okumura was also able to launder money surreptitiously and also pay off Kobayakawa for his favours.”
“I notice your report didn’t mention the Phantom Thieves. Funny, given that your main task is to bring them to justice--”
Sae tossed another sheaf of papers onto Arai’s desk. “I see you haven’t checked your email. Here’s the printout. I separated the reports because the second half, concerning my theory on the Phantom Thieves, is substantiated primarily by circumstantial evidence. The first half, the one you’ve read, is more or less confirmed.”
“Then what does the second half say?” Arai asked.
“It reviews my previous theory that the Phantom Thieves are hitmen, or corporate ‘cleaners’. They took out Kamoshida, Kaneshiro, Madarame, and Kobayakawa… Only now, we have a likely employer or benefactor: Okumura. Kamoshida was taken down as his predations became more and more bold; it was probably Kobayakawa that requested the hit as he realized his golden goose was more trouble than he was worth.”
Sae continued. “And if you recall my previous reports, both Madarame and Kaneshiro’s criminal activities were picking up in scale prior to their respective downfalls - it’s quite likely that they were seen as getting too greedy, creating trouble for Okumura. So they were the next to go.”
“And Kobayakawa?” Arai asked, rubbing his chin.
“The final link between Okumura and the others. Likely taken out to ensure that he wouldn’t be able to burn Okumura. He was after all, the only living member of a criminal cell that used to boast four members. It’s likely that after the Kobayakawa job, things soured between the Phantom Thieves and Okumura. It’s hard to say what exactly happened - Okumura might have balked at paying them, or maybe he realized that they knew too much. Either way, the Phantom Thieves struck hard and struck first. There’s precedent for such independent action, too.”
Arai nodded. “Medjed… Haruto Sato. He was unrelated to Okumura.”
“Correct.” Sae said. “He seemingly threatened the Phantom Thieves, so they responded by doxxing him and taking down the website. He then shot himself. It was quite tidy… except for the fact that Sato was a day trader, not a hacker. Our Cyber Crimes division studied samples of his code - there was nothing elegant about it, in their words. All copy-pasted, no ‘signature’ that a real hacker would use. And, it turns out that Sato was embezzling from his company, and getting too greedy…”
“...Ah. So you think he was a separate job, altogether?”
“I do. I think the Phantom Thieves aren’t Okumura’s employees. I think they’re contractors. All we’re missing are the suspects - hence our ongoing investigation of Shujin. I suspect that the Phantom Thieves originated there, after all.”
“...I see.”
Sae crossed her arms, waiting for the inevitable scoff, sneer, or dressing down.
“...Strong work, Niijima.”
Sae blinked. “...Thank you, sir.”
“I trust you’ll have suspects soon?”
“Yes sir. By any means necessary.”
Arai watched her leave, his hands clasped in front of his mouth - in order to hide his smirk. Sae Niijima had woven the web of half-truths into a perfectly acceptable lie. One that the public would eat up happily. She had even found the information they leaked about Haruto Sato. In truth, the day trader was a peripheral member of the United Future Party - one that had indeed gotten a little too greedy. ‘Medjed’ was simply a convenient way to dispose of the man at the time.
And now, all they needed were named suspects. Arai smiled. There was a plan in place for that, too. He picked up his phone.
“She’s made the proper ‘deductions’ as you predicted. Everything is prepared on this end.”
>>>
October 24, 20xx
The bell above the door to Leblanc chimed as Ren pushed the door open. It was the evening, the end to a challenging day - it had been Ren’s turn to be interviewed by the police. It had too many similarities to his ‘interviews’ prior to his conviction in Kamakura. Ren suppressed an involuntary shiver as he remembered that time in his life.
‘Amamiya-kun, is it? No need to look so tense, son. We’re just trying to find out exactly what happened…’
Smiling faces with metaphorical daggers held behind their backs. In Kamakura, they ruthlessly twisted every innocuous thing he said. The detectives at Shujin barely questioned him - they simply confirmed who his friends were, and whether or not he had a dispute with Kamoshida. Then they thanked him, and let him go.
He had replayed the interview over and over in his mind, trying to figure out what the police’s play was. So focused was Ren, that he nearly walked right past Akechi. The brunette was sitting in a booth instead of at his usual spot at the bar.
“Ah. Amamiya-kun. So good to see you. You’re awfully late.” The shaggy-haired Detective Prince smiled.
“Late for what?” Ren replied.
“...I’m sorry?”
“Telling me I’m awfully late implies that you were expecting to see me earlier.” Ren replied, shrugging.
“Heh… You continue to be quite interesting… I apologize. I think I’ve just missed seeing my friend.” Akechi said, shrugging. “It seems as though it’s been awhile since we’ve trained together or had a chance to talk.”
“It seems we’ve both been busy.” Ren said, non-committal. He leaned against the counter. “I think the last time was before our school trips, actually. How was Kamakura?”
“I found that it agreed with me quite a bit. Your parents are very welcoming people. It must have been hard to leave them behind.”
“It was. Thanks for telling my mother about Sports Day, by the way. I was happy to see her.” Ren said.
“I’m glad.” Akechi said, smiling. “Say. Since you’re here, would you like to play a game of chess? I noticed that Sakura-san has a set.”
Ren glanced over at the rarely-used chess set, boxed up near the magazines and books. “I don’t think there would be much point. I don’t play very much.”
“I disagree, Amamiya-kun.” Akechi said, smiling. “I think there’s enjoyment even in playing against a novice. While the outcome might be known, an inexperienced player can still do some unexpected things.”
“...No thanks.” Ren said, heading for the stairs. “I’m a little tired.”
“Ah. That’s fair. I understand the police have been at Shujin again, after all. I’ve received a request to be the guest speaker at the cultural festival, you know. It seems that as public opinion of the Phantom Thieves has fallen, my image has improved.”
“Didn’t we talk about how you don’t have to care about that sort of thing?”
“We did. And I don’t.” Akechi’s nearly smug smile said otherwise. “Though it is gratifying, nonetheless.”
“Right. Anyway...”
“Goodnight. ...Hm.”
Ren paused, at the foot of the stairs to the attic. “What is it now?”
Akechi shrugged, spreading his hands. His smile quirked slightly - almost mockingly.
“I would have thought that a boxer would have a more courageous response to a no-win scenario.” Akechi paused for a moment, as if gauging Ren’s response. When the boxer’s expression didn’t change, he continued. “Especially in a low-stakes game of chess.”
“A ‘no-win’ scenario…?” Ren turned to look at Akechi.
“Indeed.”
The two teens regarded each other in silence, unmoving. Akechi, his hands spread in a gesture that was on the surface welcoming, but also seemed like they were ready to grapple. Ren, his body half-turned, his left foot towards the Detective Prince. His right hand casually holding the strap of his Shujin bag, near his chin, his left hand in his pocket, but relaxed.
On the television, a bald, bespectacled politician ranted aggressively about the corruption of society. His angry voice was intrusive, seeming to gradually increase the mounting tension.
Sojiro frowned as he polished glasses behind the counter. The man left his wild days behind him years ago, but he could still recognize when a fight was brewing. “...Hey. Ren. While you’re upstairs, can you check the fuse box? The lights have been a bit janky all day.”
“...Right. Sure, Sojiro.” Ren nodded to Sojiro before glancing at Akechi. “Have you heard of the Kobayashi Maru ?”
Akechi blinked. “...The Japanese steamship? The one that carried 376 passengers from British India to Vancouver, Canada?”
Ren smiled, suppressing a laugh. “...Yes. Exactly. Thank you - that’s been bothering me since the exam. Goodnight, Akechi.”
“Goodnight…”
>>>
October 25, 20xx
“So. Everyone’s alright, then?” Ren asked, looking around the table outside 2-D’s ‘Maid Takoyaki’. “Haru?”
Haru blinked; she was staring off into space. Irritation flashed across her normally placid features as she looked at Ren. She smiled. “Yes. No concerns.”
Makoto sighed. “Good. It’s been hard on all of us. I thought that the cultural festival would be a chance to relax a little, but people everywhere keep spreading rumors…”
“For real. It’s all bullshit, too.” Ryuji scoffed. “I mean, some people are starting to suspect the Phantom Thieves for things that happened before Kamoshida.”
Ann played with one of her twintails, sighing. “...Yeah. It’s really disheartening. It’s like no one cares about the people we helped.”
“Indeed. It’s as if we’ve become the booger-men of the public.” Yusuke said, seriously.
There was a silence as the other Phantom Thieves turned to Yusuke. It wasn’t even that funny - but it broke the mood. Futaba started snickering first. Eventually, the whole group broke into uncontrolled laughter.
“It’s… it’s bogeymen , Yusuke.” Ren said, shaking his head.
“Oh man. It’s not as good as being a good ‘bird man’, but I’ll take it.” Ryuji said, laughing. He held a fist up to Yusuke. “You know what to do with this now, at least?”
Yusuke nodded seriously. He bumped Ryuji’s fist.
Futaba stopped laughing. “Wait. Wait, what did he do before?”
Ren looked at Ryuji. He offered his fist to the blonde boy.
Ryuji nodded gravely. He took Ren’s fist in his palm, shaking it.
Futaba snorted.
“Guys. Guys, come on.” Ann said, laughing herself. “You’ll make Yusuke feel.. ...bad?”
The tall artist smirked slightly. “Actually, I thought that we could all use some laughter.”
Ren shook his head in admiration. “...Thanks, Yusuke.”
“Of course. Like Marie Kondo, I am happy to ‘spark joy’.” Yusuke said, with a gravity and elegance that only he could pull off. And a face so carefully composed and straight that it set the group to laughing again.
“What’s so funny?” Shiho asked, plopping down at the table. She carried the group’s order, the ‘Russian Takoyaki’.
Ryuji grinned. “Just sparking some joy.” He eyed the takoyaki. “Man. I can’t believe that they made one of us come up to get it. So much for the maid service…”
Ann sighed. “It’s a miracle we even pulled off the decorations and costumes. I’m one of 2-D’s reps for the cultural festival, remember? It didn’t help that every time we mentioned the word ‘maid’ or brought the costumes around, Kawakami looked like she was going to have a nervous breakdown. At least the takoyaki are freshly made.”
Ren frowned, poking the side of one. “...Are you sure about that, Songbird?”
Futaba nodded. “I think I even heard a microwave go off…”
The group started to reach for the food, pausing as the familiar form of the Detective Prince strode up to the table.
“Ah. Everyone’s all here.” Akechi said, smiling.
Makoto blinked. “...Akechi-kun. The panel isn’t until tomorrow…”
“I’m aware. I just wanted to come by to see what the venue is like. After all, we can’t afford to have any mistakes, can we?” He said, his eyes on Ren.
“Of course.” Ren said, shrugging. He started to spear the red takoyaki with a toothpick, before pausing. “Ah. Rude of me. Do you want one, Akechi?”
The Detective Prince smiled. He picked up a toothpick, selecting the red one that Ren seemed to have wanted. “Thank you. I’ll have this one.” He said, unable to hide all of his amusement at the petty gesture of taking something of Ren’s away.
Akechi took it in one bite.
A mix of sriracha sauce, tabasco, and a hint of ghost peppers instantly coated the Detective Prince’s tongue. It was a screaming cacophony of hot and sour, the flavors wrestling for dominance on his tongue. The battle between the three spices raged on for a few moments as Akechi made strange, inhuman sounds. He quieted, managing to swallow the takoyaki.
The battle was over. The victor?
Pain.
Akechi took off down the hall, running for the nearest restroom.
“...Oh. Whoa.” Ryuji said, his eyes wide. He grinned. “Nice.”
Mona popped up out of Ren’s bag. “How’d you know he was going to take that one?”
Ren smiled. “Because I motioned at it with my toothpick before offering him one. He’s actually fairly predictable…”
Shiho stood up.
Ann blinked, looking at her. “...Shiho? Are you going to check on Akechi?” She asked, thinking of Shiho’s career aspirations.
“Hm? Oh, no.” Shiho walked over to the Maid Takoyaki counter.
“I’ll take all the red ones you have left, please.”
>>>
October 26, 20xx
It was the afternoon of the second day of the cultural festival, just after the panel with the guest of honor, Goro Akechi. Makoto led the Detective Prince to the PE faculty office, where the other Phantom Thieves waited. She pushed the door open, closing and locking it behind them. The team gathered around the cluttered, half-packed office. Since Kamoshida’s resignation, a permanent replacement still hadn’t been found. The man’s personal possessions were gone already, but the remainder was a cluttered mess of stacked boxes and folding chairs. It was decidedly cramped and uncomfortable, but decreased the likelihood that anyone would stumble across them.
Akechi’s face was his manicured smile. His perfect mix of polite friendliness with smug confidence, designed to enchant his fans and irritate his enemies. And so, eight different individuals found themselves clenching their fists or jaws, or tensing their shoulders.
“Ah. So everyone’s here. How are you enjoying the festival?”
“I think you can stop pretending to care, Akechi-kun.” Makoto crossed her arms, leaning against the door. “What did you want to talk about?”
Akechi was nonplussed, continuing to smile. “Perhaps it’s easier if I show you.”
The Detective Prince reached into his blazer with a gloved hand, taking out three photographs. He placed them on the desk, one by one: pictures of the Phantom Thieves leaving the Metaverse after taking down Okumura’s Palace.
The group stared at the photos in shocked silence.
“...Those… those gotta be fakes!” Ryuji blurted out.
“I have video footage as well.” Akechi said, continuing to smile. “So please. Let us dispense with feigning ignorance. Furthermore, I too have been to the other world. The first time was right around when I took these photographs. You might as well admit it. You are the Phantom Thieves, operating in the other world.”
The Detective Prince stared directly at Ren, a triumphant smile on his face.
Ren gave a noncommittal shrug.
“Well. No matter. I have all the evidence here.” Akechi replied, crossing his arms over his chest. He seemed to draw himself up, managing to give the distinct impression that he was looking down at the lot of them.
Haru glared at Akechi. “We didn’t kill anyone .”
“Indeed. I don’t believe you did… When I entered the other world, I saw someone else there. A man in a black mask. He shot at me immediately. It was only in my desperation that my need to discover the truth for the sake of justice caused me to awaken to the same powers you all have…”
“...This guy has a Persona?!” Mona said, his tail lashing.
Akechi turned, eyes wide. “...Did that cat just talk?!”
Ann nodded. “This is Morgana. Our guide in the Metaverse. He taught us everything we know…”
“...Ah. I see. That’s how you learned to steal hearts…” Akechi said, frowning. “I wonder, what else--”
“So what do you want from us?” Ren interrupted.
“The only thing I want Amamiya-kun, is justice. I cannot abide a senseless killer who--”
“Save it, Akechi.” Ren said, shaking his head. “You have the photos and a video. You called us into a room where we can have a private conversation. You’ve thrown incriminating evidence in our faces. You’re going to blackmail us.”
“...Ah. Such harsh language.” Akechi said, his eyebrow twitching slightly at his interrupted monologue. “I would call it an ‘exchange of favors’. You see, Sae Niijima is in control of the investigation, as you might know. What you don’t know, is that she has concocted quite the theory…”
Akechi went on to detail Sae’s investigation. The Phantom Thieves listened on grimly.
“...That… that’s crazy!” Ann said, shaking her head. “We’re not hitmen for Okumura! Why would she jump to that conclusion?!”
“The pressure that Sae-san is under is enormous. The SID has never failed to identify and convict a suspect, and they have no intention to begin now.” Akechi said. “If they cannot identify the real Phantom Thieves… they will simply select a suitable scapegoat.”
“No way…” Ryuji said, eyes wide.
“That would explain their nearly impossible conviction rate over the past few decades…” Futaba said, shaking her head. “If they can’t find the evidence, they create it.”
“So, this is the exchange I want to offer you all.” Akechi continued. “You will help me track down the true culprit. In exchange, I won’t turn you in - so long as you cease all activities as the Phantom Thieves. ...You don’t need to decide now. I can see that you don’t trust me. Take all the time you need… up until Friday.”
“How generous.” Ren said, flatly.
“Yes, I believe so as well.” Akechi replied, clearly understanding but ignoring the sarcasm. “After all, I could have turned this over to the police immediately. You should be grateful. And as a matter of due course, they would not only have investigated each of you, but any remaining family members. Parents… sisters. It seems to me, that you all have a lot to lose. So, I trust you will decide wisely.”
He turned, waving a hand. “I’ll see you on Friday, at Leblanc.”
>>>
“Student Sharing Special…?” Ren asked, slowly.
“Don’t look at me!” Ann replied, a little defensively. “I tried telling them to cut it out this year. Nobody ever volunteers to go up. They usually just end up picking some poor soul out of the crowd—”
“You! You there!”
A spotlight aimed directly at Ren and Ann, standing to the side of the gymnasium, the venue for the post-festival party. The MC, a third-year student, was clearly looking at Ann.
“Look at you! Good looks, smoking body. You look like you don’t have a care in the world!”
Ann rolled her eyes, muttering. “Seriously? Koyama-senpai? He hasn’t forgiven me for turning him down when I was a first year… do you think I should go up there— Ren? Where are you…”
Ren was already moving. He climbed up on stage, taking the second microphone from the surprised third year.
“Thanks for the compliments, senpai. I’m glad someone’s noticed that I took extra time on my hair today. And I have been working out.”
The audience tittered with amusement.
Koyama frowned. “I didn’t… Oh. Well. Er… what’s your name, then?”
“Ren Amamiya.”
The audience murmured.
“ He’s that transfer student? The one who’s a real criminal, but somehow topping the charts for exams…?”
“He’s totally yakuza. I heard Yamada call him ‘aniki’...”
Koyama grinned. “Oh? That Amamiya? So, why don’t you say something?”
“Something.” Ren said, shrugging.
Again, the crowd laughed slightly, despite the fact that it was an old joke.
“Well, fine. If you’re going to be that way.” Koyama said. His eyes caught Ann. She looked mildly concerned. Koyama smirked. “Well, how about this. Why don’t you properly address the article that everyone was talking about after summer break? The one in Boxing Fan? ”
Ren blinked, and then smiled.
“Oh. Happy to. So you see, Yamanaka-san boxes southpaw, so the article was reviewing all the current contenders for the WBC Lightweight Championship - specifically their ability to counter Yamanaka-san’s stance. Having been on the receiving end, I can tell you it’s not that simple—” Ren said, starting to describe word for word the feature article on Mamoru Yamanaka.
“No! The article with the pictures! Of you!” Koyama snapped, now clearly irritated.
“Wow. First complimenting my looks, and now I find out you’ve been keeping magazine clippings of me, too? You’re making me blush, senpai.” Ren said, innocently.
“You… no! You and Takamaki!”
“Oh. Well, that’s easy. I think I loved her almost the moment I met her. Sometimes I think it was love at first sight, other times more like a premonition. Either way, I’m probably going to do whatever I can stay by her side for as long as possible.”
Ren shrugged.
“Or something like that.”
He and Ann managed to escape in the ensuing uproar.
>>>
“I… I can’t believe you!” Ann said, giving Ren’s shoulder a half-hearted shove in the privacy of the fenced-off area around the school’s pool. It was already getting dark out; the lights at the bottom and around the water provided enough light for the pair to see, though. “That was so embarrassing!”
“Then why can’t you stop smiling?” Ren asked, laughing.
Ann covered her mouth. “Am not.”
“And your eyes are twinkling.”
She covered her eyes as well. “Lies.”
“Come on, Songbird.” Ren said. He lightly tapped on her hands with his index finger. “Are you really that embarrassed?”
“Yes.” Ann replied. She continued to cover her face. “I’m not coming out.”
“Going to be pretty hard to model like that.”
“Hand modeling is a thing.”
“It would be a waste. If you show me your face, you get a surprise.”
“...is it a good one?”
“Mmhm.”
Ann slowly moved her hands away. As she expected, she was rewarded with the gentle touch of Ren’s mouth on her own, stealing a soft kiss. She smiled against his lips, her fingers running through his hair. She sighed, draping her arms over his shoulders, leaning against him.
“What am I going to do with you, Wildcard…?”
“Love me, Songbird. Just love me.” Ren held her closely against himself, the press of her slender form both familiar and thrilling.
She took off his glasses, stealing a kiss of her own. A pretty blush formed on her face as she spoke again. “Not a problem. We’re pretty good together, aren’t we?”
Ren raised an eyebrow. “You know, a traditional Japanese boy might consider that a proposal.”
Ann slid his glasses on, peering up at Ren over the thick black frame. “Oh? And how traditional are you?”
“Well, my parents do run an inn. And I was raised in a small town.” Ren said. He quietly marveled at how she made that look work, too.
“Uh huh. But I’m a part American, part Finnish, part Japanese model from a cosmopolitan jet-setting family. So I could literally be saying anything . I could mean we’re pretty good together right now… or pretty good together a week from now. Or pretty good together with the same last name.” Ann affected a coquettish little smile.
“I see… so? Which is it?”
“Anything. Everything. All or none of the above…” Ann stepped away from him, giggling. She turned to face the pool; her features took on a gently rippling glow from the lights around the water. “I need to leave you with some anxiety for when you eventually ask me, right? It makes it more romantic.”
“You mean if. ”
Ann scoffed, mockingly. “Please.”
Ren shook his head, laughing. “Yeah. Stupid of me…”
Ann smiled as she turned back to him, smiling softly. “Whenever you do… have confidence, Wildcard.”
>>>
Ren and Futaba approached Leblanc, on their way home from Shujin.
“Oh, come on. It’ll be great. You can tell Kana all about how you go to school with your big bro.” Ren said, grinning.
Futaba rolled her eyes. “Who might that be?”
“Oh, ouch.” Ren replied, miming a dagger through his heart. “And after all we’ve been through together.”
Futaba chuckled. She then looked up at Ren as they turned down the alleyway toward the cafe. Over the past few days, despite all of the turmoil around Kunikazu Okumura, the Phantom Thieves, and the cultural festival, Ren had made time for her - to help her deal with her issues, and to help change the hearts of her old friend’s parents. The girls swore a pact shortly after to attend school again, starting next year. All because of Ren.
Ren paused, feeling Futaba tug on his sleeve.
“Gremlin?”
“...You know, RenRen. I… ...Yeah.” She mumbled, looking down at her feet. She startled slightly, feeling him break free of her grip - only to ruffle her hair. She looked back at him, eyes wide.
He flashed a smile at her. “Any time, Futaba.”
She grinned back at him. “Ehehe. I’ll take you up on that.”
They walked into Leblanc. Surprisingly, the door was still unlocked and Sojiro was seated on the wrong side of the counter. The middle-aged man generally looked pretty relaxed; smooth. Ren rarely thought of him as being ‘older’ per se. But this evening, Sojiro’s shoulders seemed to bear the weight of the world. As he turned to look at them, he seemed tired physically and mentally.
“...Boss? What’s… ...wrong…”
Ren’s eyes went to the countertop in front of Sojiro.
A calling card.
Sojiro stood slowly. He regarded both of his wards.
“Lock the door and sit down. You two have some explaining to do.”
>>>
Akechi smiled slightly to himself, the manicured expression fading into something between smug and predatory. He was on the rooftop of his apartment building in Shibuya. There, he looked over the evidence he had accumulated on the Phantom Thieves. The photographs, the video. They had played directly into his hands. Amamiya and his friends only had one possible course of action in front of them.
The Left Hand squatted down, in front of a small metal bowl he had brought up to the roof. His smile slowly broadened into a grin as he dropped the photographs and the USB drive with the only digital copies of the CCTV footage of the Phantom Thieves leaving the Metaverse into it, with a hollow metallic - clang- . This was followed in short order by lighter fluid, and a lit match.
Arai would have lost his mind if he knew that this was happening.
Fortunately, the Director didn’t even know that the evidence existed .
The flames of the only evidence positively identifying the Phantom Thieves reflected in his eyes, giving him a decidedly devilish look as he watched everything go up in smoke. It didn’t make much sense from a law and order perspective, of course. If he turned the evidence over to Arai, the Phantom Thieves would be done. They could be arrested with the key thrown away.
But this could all be done without Akechi’s involvement, through at least somewhat legal channels. Burning the evidence left the SID Director and Shido with a single option to ‘clean up’ the Phantom Thieves: Goro Akechi.
Akechi chuckled quietly. This way, they would need to force a confession out of Amamiya. That would be… productive. Satisfying. Fun . Moreover, they wouldn’t be able to touch the other Phantom Thieves. Not legally, anyway. It would become another task for Akechi. One he would relish.
He stood up, leaving behind the bowl of ash and twisted plastic.
The trap wasn’t quite perfect, though. Not yet. Amamiya was wily. Even when he caved to Akechi’s ‘deal’, he wasn’t likely to include the Detective Prince on the finer details of his plans. He was likely to assume that Akechi would betray him. After all, Amamiya was someone who had been betrayed by the legal system before.
He smiled again, going through files in his phone. Akechi needed a way to stay a step ahead. Fortunately, he already had one.
>>>
October 28, 20xx
“Hell of a few days, bro.” Ryuji sighed, sitting slouched in a booth at Leblanc.
“Tell me about it.” Ren replied, shaking his head. Sojiro had taken the revelation about their identities as the Phantom Thieves surprisingly well, once he heard the whole story. There wasn’t any risk of him selling them out - despite the incredible thirty million yen reward for information leading to their arrest.
The boxer looked around the small cafe, at the rest of his team. The news of the price on their head had struck them all deeply. Coupled with Futaba’s revelation that ‘Medjed’, Haruto Sato, was a patsy who couldn’t even code… They all felt like they had been used - dancing in the palm of some unknown power’s hand. It forced them all to re-evaluate everything they had done up until now.
‘Caroline and Justine did say we’re losing focus… But that doesn’t explain everything. The public turned around instantly . What was it that Justine said…? ‘Reform society’....? This can’t be completely on us.’
As he thought, his eyes lit on Ryuji and Haru.
Those two had been particularly hard on themselves. Ryuji knew he had gotten swept away by the potential for fame and popularity; Haru was still obviously both upset and enraged about the loss of her father. The bounty on their heads simply added salt in the wound. They wanted to take action, but were for the moment frozen. Until the Detective Prince stepping through the door revealed his hand.
Akechi smiled. “Ah, so good to see everyone here.”
Silence.
“...Well. Shouldn’t you offer me a cup of coffee, Ren--”
“Don’t push your luck, flatfoot. I’m not your friend. Or your barista.” Ren growled. “We’re taking your deal. But never forget that you’ve threatened my friends. And my parents, if I recall your wording. That’s enough reason enough for me to knock your pompous head off.”
Akechi raised his hands, still smiling - smirking, even. “I suppose I’ll have to allow for some barking here and there. If you’re done, then shall we discuss the plan from here on out?”
Ren glared at Akechi, but motioned with a hand. “Go for it.”
“So. As I alluded to at our last encounter, the primary concern is Sae Niijima.” Akechi said, falling into the same speech patterns he had when he first met Ren. His smile quirked slightly, seeing Ren’s eyebrow twitch. “The prosecutor is under enormous pressure to identify and convict a suspect. Preparations are already under way to fabricate a conviction. This is the true purpose behind the interviews occurring at Shujin Academy.”
“...That makes sense.” Ren said, shaking his head. “My contacts tell me the questions they’ve been asking are fairly benign. Just like what they did with me. They didn’t grill me or try to make me say anything incriminating. They just wanted to know who I hung out with and whether I might have had a dispute with Kamoshida.”
Akechi nodded. “That is correct, Amamiya-kun. The police are attempting to identify a suspect who would best fit the profile of the Phantom Thieves. Someone palatable to the general public.”
Yusuke looked downcast. “So… they would even identify someone completely unrelated?”
“Yes. But I believe there is a solution to this. We must change Sae-san’s heart. I’ve checked - she has a Palace.”
The team looked surprised - save one. Their eyes immediately turned to Makoto.
“I… ...Yes.” Makoto said, sadly. “She does. I’ve known for some time… I’m sorry. I didn’t want to tell you all because I felt it would be selfish. And I was too scared to confront this on my own.”
Ryuji squeezed Makoto’s hand under the table. He looked at Akechi. “How does changing the heart of a single person change anything?”
“Sae-san holds considerable influence over the investigation. She is surrounded by people who care nothing more than a quick resolution to the case; they are all willing to turn a blind eye to the fabrication of evidence, especially if it means preventing another embarrassment.”
The Detective Prince sighed.
“This is why I believe changing her heart is the best option. If she comes to her senses, she will put a stop to this. And also, changing her heart will protect Sae-san herself; if the true culprit finds out that she’s heading the investigation, she may become his next target. If we stop the investigation before this, the true culprit would have no reason to go after her. Then, with the false investigation over, all that remains would be identifying the true culprit - which I will take care of, alone.”
Makoto frowned. “I see… You intend for us to disband afterward.”
“Indeed.” Akechi said, nodding.
Haru frowned. “Akechi-kun… why are you doing all of this? Why are you so motivated?”
“Because this is intolerable, simple as that. Not for society’s sake or for reform, but for my sense of personal justice. Call it a grudge, if you will. Nothing will stand in my way.” Akechi said, determined.
“...He sounds a little like us, doesn’t he?” Ann said.
“We’re similar, huh…?” Akechi said, looking thoughtful. He turned to Ren. “So… won’t you cooperate with me? To change Sae-san’s heart?”
Ren leaned against the booth, his hands in his pockets. He stared incredulously at Akechi. “Are you serious? You know we don’t have a choice.”
Akechi shrugged. “You always have a choice, Amamiya-kun.”
“Then, fine. We’ll cooperate.” Ren nodded.
“Excellent. We should begin immediately. Sae-san is planning to name a suspect on the 20th, after all. We will scout out the Palace today. I--”
“I said we’d cooperate, not turn the reins over to you, flatfoot.” Ren said. “We’ve all got things to do today.”
Akechi frowned. “Do you, truly? Or are you merely being contrarian for the sake of petty revolt?”
“Yes.” Ren replied, deadpan.
Akechi blinked. He then chuckled. “Ah. More barking. Very well. We’ll start tomorrow. Until then…”
He turned to leave.
Haru frowned. “Ah, Akechi-kun. Shouldn’t we all exchange phone numbers? Otherwise, we won’t be able to get in contact about where and when to meet.”
“...Ah. Yes, of course.”
They exchanged numbers, ending the meeting.
Ren walked alongside Ann to the station. “Hey, Songbird. I’ll walk you home.”
“Hm? Didn’t you have to meet up with Haru about something?” Ann asked. She took his arm, regardless.
“Oh, she told me that she was going to run late.” Ren shrugged. “I’ll drop by later.”
Ann frowned. “I hope she’s okay. It’s awfully soon for her to be back in action…”
“It’s her choice, Songbird. I’m sure we can rely on her.”
>>>
“Hyah!” Haru shouted, driving her knee upward into the hitting mitt held by Rui Tachibana. She immediately followed this up with a hard elbow into the opposite mitt.
“Good. Take a break.” Tachibana said, nodding. She regarded the daughter of her former employer - rather, she regarded her current employer. Haru panted, sweat dripping from her face, her auburn hair matted. The heiress was in workout gear, wearing MMA style fighting gloves, tank top, and shorts. They trained in the basement of the Okumura estate. It used to serve as a small dance studio for Haru when she was a child, but it was suitable for martial arts training, as well.
Haru’s experience in dance served her well. She still retained excellent control over her position in space and took instruction well - even as Tachibana taught Haru her personal mix of toshu kakutō and krav maga . Tachibana had been mildly surprised at the request to train, only a day or two after the death of Kunikazu Okumura.
‘Tachibana-san. Will you teach me how to fight?’
‘Isn’t that friend of yours showing you some self defense?’
‘...I can’t go to him. Not anymore.’
Tachibana assumed it was just a brief fancy, something to take her mind off her father’s death. But the girl had thrown herself into the training, even as the former member of the Tokushusakusengun special forces unit ramped up the intensity and difficulty.
‘I would have loved to have more recruits as intense as Haru… I wonder what’s happened? This goes beyond grief.’
Tachibana glanced at her phone a second before it buzzed. “Okumura-sama. Are you expecting a guest?”
“Hm? Oh, yes. I lost track of time. Please show him in, Tachibana-san. He’s a friend. The living room will do.”
Haru went to her suite, quickly showering and getting dressed. She briefly glanced out the window as she headed to the living room. It was late in the afternoon; the sun was only just starting to set. The birds that nested near the windows flitted by, chirping and tweeting away. It was almost idyllic. The head of the Okumura household smiled sardonically, thinking of a quote from Dumas’ Three Musketeers . She had re-read the book shortly upon Awakening to her Persona, the duplicitous Milady de Winter.
‘ ‘Milady felt a consolation in seeing nature partake of the disorder of her heart. The thunder growled in the air like the passion and anger in her thoughts. It appeared to her that the blast as it swept along disheveled her brow, as it bowed the branches of the trees and bore away their leaves. She howled as the hurricane howled; and her voice was lost in the great voice of nature, which also seemed to groan with despair’... ...A shame there isn’t a storm, like the other night. That would have been more in keeping with the theme.’
She stepped into the living room, smiling politely at her guest.
“Good afternoon, Akechi-kun.” |
Bucky is interrupted by a knock on his door, which is surprising given he’s not allowed to leave. He unwraps himself from the tangle of blankets he’s made on the couch and walks to answer it.
Behind the door is a pretty redheaded woman, the one that’s on the Avenger’s team. She’s dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, and she has her hands resting casually in her pockets. When Bucky opens the door, she looks up, and her face breaks out into a shy smile.
“Hi,” she says, reaching out one of her hands, “I don’t think we’ve officially met. I’m Natasha.”
Bucky can’t help but smile back. He takes her hand and shakes. “Bucky Barnes, ma’am.”
“So I’ve heard.” She says, dropping his hand. “I just wanted to apologize for the treatment we’ve been giving you, being locked away in a tower and all.”
“It’s alright,” Bucky says, leaning against the doorframe. “I feel like I’m barely a prisoner. You know, like I’m in a corporate prison, where they have nice food and butlers and unlimited channels. It’s nice.”
“I wouldn’t know anything about corporate prison, but I suppose there’s worse places to be.” She says.
“Would you like to come in?” He offers, not forgetting his manners.
“No, no, thank you though, I only have a minute. I came to meet you, officially, and also tell you that the team had a chat, and we decided that if Steve and Tony trust you, so do we. So the plan’s changed a bit.”
Bucky’s eyes brighten at the mention of Tony. “Is Tony coming by soon? Do you know when I can see him?”
Natasha frowns. “He hasn’t been by already?”
Bucky’s heart plummets. Natasha must see something in his gaze because he expression softens.
“He’s just dealing with a lot right now.” She qualifies.
“He’s avoiding me on purpose, isn’t he.” Bucky states more than asks, and Natasha grimaces.
“He’s being a child.” She says, apology in her voice.
Natasha continues. “We did negotiate a much better solution involving your debrief with SHIELD. Steve will escort you to a jet, and you’ll be sent to DC for some medical checkups and a formal debrief, which should only last a day. After than you can come back and get your affairs here in order.” Her face pinches in sadness, as if Bucky’s situation is somehow her fault.
“Thanks so much for everything,” Bucky says quickly. “For the whole saving me thing, too.” He winces a bit. He’s never been saved before, and isn’t quite sure how to say thank you without sounding insincere.
“It’s what we do.” She brushes it off with a smile. “When you come back, Steve and I can help you with some stuff to get your life back. If you can, could you supply us with information regarding your insurance? Fire, renters, stuff like that.”
“Oh, yeah.” He hesitates. “Yeah, I actually don’t know… if I have those…” He trails off.
“Oh, no problem, you don’t need it now or anything.” Natasha says. “We’ve talked to the police already when we were investigating the scene, apparently the landlord has been handing back security deposits to help with the crisis.” She says earnestly. “I can check and see if they have yours, I know that he’s not doing it for much longer.”
“Thanks, that’s… that’s really nice of you.” Bucky says. “Yeah I haven’t even thought about any of that stuff with everything that happened.”
Natasha gives him a sympathetic look. “Of course, we’re on your side, Bucky. Do you mind me asking your full name so I can get the check?”
Bucky smiles back. “Thank you. And, uh, yeah, it’s James. James Buchanan Barnes.”
“Great!” She smiles. “Steve will come by any second now. Until then, you are still on, quote on quote ‘lock down.’” Natasha says. “Only because we’re not sure if you’re going to explode or anything.” She smiles, a little grimmer this time.
“But you’re here.” Bucky points out.
“Shows what I think of the likelihood of you exploding.” She says with a wink.
“Romanoff.” Steve’s voice fades in. He enters the common area in full strides, still in his dirty, singed uniform. He’s wearing an expression of pure exhaustion, and looks almost every year of his true age.
“Rogers… you feeling alright?” She says. She clearly notices something too.
Personally, Bucky thinks Steve looks like someone shot his puppy.
He doesn’t offer her answer. “We’re leaving. Bucky?” He says shortly, and he turns and marches back out towards the elevator.
Bucky looks to Natasha, who gives him a shrug.
They take off a half hour later, Bucky struggling to buckle himself into the seat in the military jet—what kind of buckles go over your shoulder? —and trying to make eye contact with Steve, who’s seated across from him, staring at nothing at a spot above his head.
The flight is uneventful, but seems to last forever, Bucky radiating nervousness. He still hadn’t seen Tony, and he’s pretty sure he’s deliberately avoiding him. It doesn’t make sense, not after their reunion. The way he looked at him was the way a starving man looked at water—desperate, disbelieving. It had to mean something, and he’s not going to let him shut him out, not without a fight.
There was also the added pressure of not knowing what is going to happen after he gives up everything that went on at the mansion and before, and even the things he doesn’t know about his origin, the gaping hole in his memory before a few weeks ago. He still remembers a past he doesn’t know if he actually had or not. Anecdotes about his time at school, people he supposedly was hired by, a whole life put on like a stage play.
And Rebecca…
It hurt to even think about it. He’s pretty sure the Avengers thought she died in the fire, given that most people who weren’t soldiers, just standard security, were completely incinerated by Bucky in the process of his escape. No one’s brought it up with him yet, but it’s only a matter of time.
The plane makes a thunk as it lands, and the agent, Hill, leaves the pilot’s seat. Steve snaps out of his reverie and helps Bucky stand up, and they wait for the ramp to lower.
They step from a private helicopter landing pad to the inside of a massive concrete building. Steve escorts him silently through a labyrinthine of empty hallways, the SHIELD agent—Hill leading the way.
“Is it… Is it empty because of me?” Bucky asks with apprehension. He would hate to think that they were still treating him like a threat. He’s unsure where he stands with this organization, or how he belongs here.
“It’s empty because it’s Christmas Eve.” Hill says in a no nonsense tone. “No more questions.”
They ride down an elevator, glass on all sides, and Bucky watches as the snow begins to fall on DC, just beginning to collect on the windows. The door opens and they arrive at an area that looks like a hospital, except that fact that it’s silent. Steve motions Bucky to the left, while Hill peels off to the right. He’s led to a room a thin, long faced woman in a white coat and two men in black with AR-15’s.
Steve leaves with a weak smile, saying that he’ll be back for him soon, and suddenly Bucky is alone.
“Now, Mr. Barnes. Shall we get started?” She says. Her accent is heavy, but Bucky can’t quite place it.
Bucky tries to put on an air of confidence. “With what?” He says, but the words still come out shaky.
She nods.
The men raise their guns.
“Wha—” Bucky jumps up in fear.
She speaks.
—glimpsing a naked man through a crack in the shower door, feeling a rush of heat, turning away quickly, because men don’t think of men like that James—
—a man with a mustache looks down at him. “This metal is not going to suffice; the gears have rusted shut. Grab the saw, we’ll have to try again—"
“—happy birthday dear Bucky… happy—"
“—sunrise like this in the states?” A snort, then: “It’s the same, I just don’t think ya woke up that early Gabe—"
—soup, cooking on the stove, him huddling close because it was the only thing warm in the entire building, and he hadn’t eaten in days—
“—work from nine ta nine, no break, and if ya show any sign of getting sick? They take ya to th’ isolation rooms. And no one comes back from th’ isolation rooms—"
—a girl, sobbing in the corner. A boy, bigger than her, standing over her, but he was bigger than both of them, and he could help her—
—she was crying, though she’d never admit it. “I’m so glad you’re home, Buck,” she says, and they pretend, for just a little while, that he’s not going to have to go back—
—an empty cell, empty room, with him, just him, alone, there’s no one else, his team, his battalion, rescued, all of them, except for him—
—“Grab my hand!” The man screams over the sound of the wind, the train, the freight train, the freight car—
“Mr. Barnes.” The man says impatiently.
“What?” Bucky blinks.
“I said we’re all done, and you are free to go.”
“But—” His thought is cut short when he looks at a camera, light blinking green in the corner of the room.
He follows his line of sight. “All of our interactions were monitored for both of our safety.”
Something is wrong.
“Wasn’t I… Where…” He stutters, confused.
The man is frowning at him, clueing into the fact that Bucky is in some sort of distress, and Bucky realizes that he needs to leave now.
“I’m ready to go.” Bucky blurts.
The man makes a face, but leans over to knock against the door, whispering to someone standing behind it. In a minute he’s joined again by Steve, who’s looking at Bucky with a small smile. He’s led down a hallway, and on the way he passes by a window. Snow covered the city in white, falling heavily and stacking up several inches high behind the window.
How long—
“What time is it?” He asks Steve.
“About four.”
“I’ve been in there for five hours?” Bucky says. Something is very, very wrong.
“What’s wrong, Bucky?”
“You ever get a feeling in your gut that something’s…” Bucky trails off.
“Off?” Steve guesses. He doesn’t look to surprised. “SHIELD gives you that feeling sometimes.”
Bucky needs to get out of there.
He needs to get out of there now.
“Let’s go.” Bucky says and he turns on his heel towards the elevators.
“What? Where?” Steve says.
“They said I’m free to go, right? Then let’s go.”
“I—okay, hold on!” Steve rushes to catch up.
Bucky storms from SHIELD, pressing the button for the lobby of the elevator viciously, and speeding through the lobby in a frantic speed walk that even Steve has to double step to keep up with. He keeps walking until he’s trudged his way into the DC streets, snow filling his shoes and melting into steam, until his heart stops pounding, a headache throbbing with each step.
He pulls into a coffee shop, stops and sits at a table, Steve trailing after him.
“Bucky, what is going on? What happened, did that doctor do anything to you?” Steve says, extremely worried.
“Steve. Something about that place is giving me the worst feeling in the world.” He says quietly. They are seated at a table in the corner, and the shop is empty, but this DC, so it’s harder to find out which government agency isn’t listening than which one is.
“Bucky, you need to tell me what’s going on.” Steve says.
Bucky finds his leg is shaking. He takes an active moment to still it. “Not here, okay? In New York. There’s something I have to tell you, and it’s very, very important.”
Steve looks worried and Bucky realizes that he’s getting worked up for no good reason. He takes a deep breath. “I’m going to buy a coffee.” The separation should give him the time to get a hold of himself.
Except he miscalculates and has to come back a few seconds later, empty handed, and awkwardly ask Steve for three dollars.
“I, uh. Left my wallet at the tower.” Bucky says, a little sheepish.
Steve gives him a small smile and buys him a cappuccino, settling on a hot chocolate himself.
“We’re free to take the jet back whenever, so let’s just walk for a bit until you calm down.” Steve suggests, and they head outside into the cold, which has become less of a problem for Bucky as of late.
It’s not weather for chatting, but Bucky doesn’t mind, deep in thought about the events that occurred at SHIELD.
It had started at the doctor’s room, where he assumed he was to be tested to make sure he was stable, but something had happened. The soldiers had been gearing up to shoot, and he had jumped up, and the thin woman with the Romanian accent was about to say something and then… He had seen pictures behind his eyes, playing like movies, like the memories, except it felt a hundred times more real. They were brief flashes of intense emotion, moments clearer than a memory, like he was actually there.
And then suddenly he was in an entirely different room with an entirely different person, five hours later. What happened after all the time?
And, the most frightening thing is that when he was in the room with that man, he had the same feeling he had when he woke up from his in-between sleep state with Killian. Which could mean many things, but that combined with the odd feeling of wrongness that followed him the second he stepped foot inside of the building, almost like déjà vu, made Bucky think that they somehow put him to sleep. And if SHIELD knew how to put him to sleep, then they could know what was wrong with him. SHIELD could know how to control him—
SHIELD could know how to control him.
“Steve, what do you…” It takes Bucky a moment to realize that Steve’s no longer walking with him, and he blames his inattention the fact that he has his head carefully tucked against the wind.
He whips his head around confused, before he spots him, a few yards back, staring up at a building on a street. His ready to open his mouth to ask his question when he takes in what Steve is looking at. When he realizes the implications of what he’s looking at, Bucky manages suspend his thought process, knowing that this might be an important moment for Steve.
“You know, we can go in if you want.” Bucky says after a moment. He notices that the snow around his feet has turned quickly into water.
“We don’t have to.” Steve responds, but the protest was weak.
“I know we don’t have to.” Bucky says, and he starts to climb the steps of the church.
After a moment, Steve follows.
The church is worn and gray on the outside and worn and brown on the inside. It’s empty yet lived in, like an older relative’s house, or a bakery.
Now Bucky’s not sure what his religion is, or how churches work, or where God was when his captors did to him what they did, but nevertheless, he decides that for today he can take his cues from Steve, out of some sort of solidarity.
At first, Steve looks at the ceiling for a long time. Bucky follows his gaze for a minute, then looks around to study the stained glass windows, snow building up behind them.
They are joined in a few moments by a pastor, who greets them both with a smile and a ‘what brings you in, today?’ Whose eyes only barely widen at the sight of Captain America, suddenly on the verge of tears. Who takes Steve’s hands with supreme gentleness, when Steve tell him “he’s lost.”
“Not anymore,” He says, and Steve gazes him with a powerful mix of fear and hope.
“Let us pray.” He says, and Bucky stares at the inside of his eyelids as the pastor speaks about being lost and being found, about driving out the dark to make room for the light, about forgiveness and hope and the past and the future and love, always, always prevailing.
Pastor Dave leaves them in a pew after that, and Steve looks like someone had thrown him in a washing machine and hung him out to dry.
“You know.” Bucky says, and he has to wet his lips before continuing. “I’ve been meaning to go church more. Have trouble waking up for it. But if I had someone to go with, I might be more inclined.”
It’s mostly lies, but Steve smiles, so Bucky thinks whatever God that might be out there will forgive him.
Bucky continues to put his own thoughts on hold, because the next thing they do is go see Peggy.
The woman behind the desk at the elder care home smiles at first, not recognizing Steve because she’s not looking up from the computer, and says that Christmas visits are always a favorite. Bucky sees that they have tables set up and a tree in the corner, the members of the home sleeping in chairs by the television or playing games by the fire.
Then Steve says his name and the woman behind the desk freezes. She takes one long look at the uniform, the coat doing little to hide it, and picks up a phone.
When the nurse comes around the corner he stops and stares at Steve, before shaking his head and putting on a veil of professionalism. “Her memory still goes.” Bucky hears him say as he escorts Steve to the back room.
He sits in the waiting area for a long time, thinking. At one point he grabs a small paper cup full of hot water and mixes in a packet of powered hot chocolate.
When Steve comes back, it’s almost dark outside.
“She’s…” Steve stops. Can’t seem to start again.
Bucky puts a hand on his back, and it’s Steve’s turn to cry.
“So you know this whole ‘I’m toxic and everyone should stay away’ schtick that you keep up all the time Tony?” Pepper says as she strides towards him in frighteningly tall heels. “It’s old. And I don’t know about you, but I’m sick of it.”
Tony digs his spoon into his Captain Crunch like it personally hurt him. He doesn’t even like Captain Crunch. “Everyone around me gets hurt. Logic dictates that no one should be around me.”
“You’re being dramatic again.” Pepper flips her hair before sitting next to Tony at the bar. “Logic doesn’t take into account emotions, Tony. And you,” she pokes him in the chest, finger making a ‘ting’ on the arc reactor, “are one of the most emotional people I have ever met.”
“I’m not emotional. I’m a man. An iron man.” He protests weakly, turning to give her his attention.
“Did you know,” Pepper says, slightly conspiratorially, “iron on its own is actually one of the weaker metals?”
“That’s… kinda hot that you know that.”
“It’s also highly reactive, and is most effective when combined with other metals.”
“…Are you making the point I think you’re making right now?”
“So, scientifically, if you’re an ‘iron man’, you need people to make you stronger.”
“That’s not—” Wait.
“Allies.” She says, then she giggles to herself. “Alloys.”
“Pepper Potts.” Tony stares at her. “Are you drunk?” And now that he looks, she totally is, her cheeks are flushed, and she keeps licking her lips, and her hand constantly trying to put a to-short piece of hair behind her ear.
Pepper blinks slowly, a grin on her face. “Rhodey and I had Christmas Eve brunch. Bottomless.”
“What you and Rhodey get up to when bottomless is not my business.”
Pepper giggles again, and Tony can’t help but laugh right back.
“Drunk Pepper Potts.” He leans over, amused. “What did I do to deserve this?”
“You were stupid, that’s what.”
“Impossible.” Tony declares.
“You hired a hooker.”
“Not technically.”
“Then fell in love with him.”
“Allegedly!”
“And that’s where the stupid comes in. You know the night you met him, I did a background check. PhD student, no priors, such pretty eyes. Knew you’d get it off.” She giggles. “Hit it off.”
“Careful there Ms. Potts.”
“You too Mr. Stark.” She says playfully. “So what is it this time? To dangerous? To damaged?”
Tony sighs. “Truth is… I don’t trust myself Pep. Not anymore. I don’t trust myself to do the right thing or make the right decision. How can I, when the playing field suddenly got so much bigger? There’s so much more at stake. Hell, when I thought he died?”
Tony shakes his head. “I can’t bear to see him get hurt Pepper.”
“I can’t bear to see you get hurt Tony. But you do it every day, locking yourself away from the world, drowning your sorrows in alcohol. How do you think that makes me feel?”
Tony sighs.
“What are you afraid of? I know the world just got a lot bigger for you, but you’re a superhero, Tony.” Pepper says.
“I’m not afraid of the people I’m fighting, the Gods or the aliens or any of that shit.” Tony says, then qualifies himself. “Okay, maybe a little. What really gets me is… It’s the person I have to become to fight something of that caliber. How much power can one person wield before it becomes too much power? How can I be trusted to make the right decision when so much is at stake? Every step I take, every move I make… It has repercussions I can’t even begin to understand! I’m a mortal man fighting in an immortal war.”
“I’ll be watching you…” Pepper sings under her breath.
“What?”
“Nothing! Nothing.”
“Are you singing? Right now? When I’m pouring my heart out to you?”
“Well, I mean you started it, with the ‘every step I…’ no, I’m getting off topic.” She carefully sits in the chair next to him, and Tony carefully helps her. “Tony. It’s that fear that keeps you humble.” Pepper says. “And you need to remember that, okay?” She smiles at him, and Tony smiles back.
He misses her, despite everything. And he’s sorry that it took another crisis and a promise of brunch to get her here. Nevertheless, she looks fantastic, and is clearly enjoying herself, and Tony is glad. “Will that be all Ms. Potts?” He says.
“That…” Pepper lays a hand on his wrist, “will absolutely not be all Mr. Stark, because we’re also going to talk about how you failed to inform your PR team that you are dating a decidedly male, comparatively young professional escort! No—no don’t interrupt me, I get enough of that from the board. No, the team had to scramble to cover the press after that mess. ‘Sugar Daddy Stark Turns Gay?’ Do you know how many men have tried to claim you’ve had their children?”
“I don’t think it works like that.” Tony groans. “Apology wine and flowers for them all?”
“An apology dinner, nine-courses, and a hand-written note.”
“Five courses, and the note will be typed—”
“—seven, and at least signed by your hand.”
“—refuse to write—no, with a pen? What are we in the stone age? It’s just—”
“—it’s important that you show them that—"
“—haven’t written anything since—”
“—Tony. I can’t do this with you right now I have had so much to drink—”
“—Fine, fine. Signed.”
“And that.” Pepper stands with a flourish. “Will be all.”
It took hours to convince Bucky to go back to SHIELD headquarters, and even then he did so with trepidation. Objectively, Bucky knows, there was nothing to be afraid of. The night guard gave Steve a nod, the secretary behind the desk phoned someone to allow them to enter the launchpad, and they got permission to takeoff with relative ease.
Steve had gone from nearly catatonic to pensive to just plain thoughtful, and as they strap in, this time with both of them in pilot seats, Bucky can almost see him stitching himself back together, one painful thread at a time.
Bucky was almost afraid to break the silence, not sure what state he would find Steve in if he did, so he let it stew, promising to spill the beans to Steve as soon as they got back to Stark Tower.
Which…
“We’re going back to Stark Tower now?” Bucky asks, about an hour in, to test the waters.
Steve nods. “Yes.” He stops his nod, then shrugs. “Well, hopefully.”
“Hopefully…?”
“Yeah, well I’ve never flown one of these before.”
“What?” Bucky looks around wildly. “What?!”
“Don’t worry, it doesn’t seem too hard. One way is up, and the other way is down, right? And the app on my phone says we are flying mostly the right direction.”
“Steve, this is a military jet. That’s—it’s not that simple!” Bucky sputters.
“Sure seemed simple when we took off. Look, I think this one’s the gas!” Steve says as he takes a hand off the stick to point.
“Don’t! Both hands on the stick, and pay attention to where you’re—"
A tinny voice sounds from Steve’s phone. “Keep right at the fork to continue on Exit 14A-14B-14C, follow signs for Interstate 78 E…”
“Steve. Are you actually using the Maps app on your phone.” Bucky deadpans. How the hell do they let this guy be in charge of anything?
“Yeah, but I don’t think it takes into account I’m not in a car.” He frowns, considering. “I guess I’ll just move it a little to the right...”
“Steve. What the fuck is wrong with you. How the hell are we going to land?! On a helicopter pad! In a tower in New York filled with civilians! They don’t have autopilot, Steve what in God’s name—” Bucky stops his panic when he catches sight of Steve.
His grin is splitting his face in half.
“Oh. Oh fuck you.”
Steve tilts his head back and laughs, and Bucky shakes his head. “That’s not funny,” he says.
“It’s a little funny.”
“Not even a little.” Bucky says, but the relief that Steve at least knows what he’s doing floods him and causes him to let out a chuckle. “Fuck you, man.”
“I’m flattered, Buck, but I’m not the kinda fella to take another fella’s fella.” Steve says with a straight face. “And that’s a sentence I’d never thought I’d say, but hey. It’s the nineties.”
Bucky laughs at the ridiculousness of his expression. “What have you been watching?”
“Currently? A talk show called Ellen. She’s very nice.” Steve says as the tower comes into view.
Bucky smiles. “Nice, huh.” They lapse into silence for a moment, before Bucky sighs.
“Don’t know if I’m actually another fella’s fella, or whatever you called it, anymore.” Bucky says. “Tony hasn’t even so much as tried to contact me after Florida.” He says with a small frown.
“Tony…” Steve says, and his voice trails off. He doesn’t pick up the conversation until he lands with a light thump on the helicopter pad, and turns off the power to the jet.
“Tony’s a good guy, he just… has a lot going on in his head.” Steve begins. “And he doesn’t really like to clue others in to his plans, I don’t think. I was talking with his pal, Rhodes. Says he’s the kinda guy you need to read between the lines with.”
Bucky frowns, but only because he’s thinking.
“You should try with him.” Steve encourages. “I think he could use someone like you in his life, whether he knows it or not.”
“Okay.” Bucky says, and he reaffirms his decision not to give up on Tony.
They leave the jet, and Bucky walks through the empty penthouse to the elevator, no Tony in sight. He goes down to the Avenger’s floor with Steve, and they both decide to sit on the couch to chat, Natasha and Clint nowhere in sight.
“So you going to tell me what got you so spooked at SHIELD?” Steve asks after Bucky fails to initiate.
Bucky nods, but instead of speaking, just starts tapping his leg again, not able to start the conversation. Rationally, Bucky knows that getting the truth off his chest is going to be a good thing. But the idea of telling him everything, even the idea of rehashing everything that happened to him, was way to daunting to face now.
“Bucky.” Steve says, tone softer. “You can trust me. Just tell me what it is, okay?”
He takes a deep breath and steels himself for the truth. “It’s about SHIELD, but it all starts with Killian. He was, somehow… controlling me. Like… he told me what to do, and I had to do it.” It’s sounds completely fake the way he phrases it, and he winces. “He had brainwashed me, Steve. He was messing with my head.” He looks up and sees Steve’s brow furrowed in confusion.
“Wait, wait, wait. Brainwashing? What do you mean messing with your head?” Steve says with a frown.
“I was in a room with him.” Bucky continues, staring at his hands. “And he told me… he showed me. That he could control me. He made me sit down, and stand up. Commanded me to do it and I did it. It’s like a feeling came over me, Steve. Like I had no choice. This intense, all-encompassing compulsion to do what he says.” Bucky says. He shivers, suddenly cold at the memory. “I broke out of it and got to the emergency beacon Tony gave me, and I don’t think he can do it anymore.” Bucky says quickly.
Steve was processing the information, Bucky could tell. “I’ve… I’ve heard of this happening before. But the technology that did it, there were no traces of it at the mansion, I’m sure. This is serious stuff, Bucky. Did you tell SHIELD?”
“Steve, I tried.” Bucky says. But SHIELD…” Bucky swallows. “Steve, how much do you trust SHIELD?”
Steve visibly hesitates, his mouth twisted into a frown.
“The same feeling I had with Killian, I had with SHIELD.” Bucky says. “My interrogation and checkup? I don’t remember a thing. Five hours, gone. And the way it felt…” he was at a loss, trying to explain the dreamlike state he was put in with Killian. “I couldn’t remember what happened, but Steve… it was the same way I felt when I was with Killian. That same feeling.”
Steve thinks for a long, long time. Each passing second causes Bucky to tense more, until finally he feels the urge to keep going.
“And I was also thinking, why didn’t they debrief me here?” Bucky asks into the silence, desperate. “They brought the doctor, and the agent, right?”
Steve takes a moment to respond. “I figured… they needed it to happen back at SHIELD for some reason. It’s not like Tony has the tools to do an interrogation and medical checkup here.” Steve says, but he looks like his mind is racing.
“They brought a doctor though, so clearly they wanted to do something here, except the doctor didn’t actually do anything to me.” Bucky says.
“They didn’t do any sort of checkup?” Steve turns to him, concerned.
“Not at all.” Bucky says. “I have no idea why he was there, and he didn’t fly back with us to SHIELD, so I have no idea where he went, either.”
Steve is quiet, and Bucky is immensely worried about his reaction.
“Steve…” Bucky starts, but he doesn’t know what else to say.
“Bucky,” he says finally. “Whatever’s happening, we’ll figure it out, okay? For now… for now let me do some research, look into some stuff. Most importantly, keep this between us, alright? To tell you the truth, I haven’t trusted SHIELD to do the right thing since I woke up. I’d want to think they were against this sort of treatment in the 21st century, but clearly the morals are different here than they were back then.” Steve says. “Keep this between us, but just know, if you have any issues or any more information, you let me know immediately, ok?”
“You’re not going to lock me up?” Bucky asks, surprised.
“You’re my friend, Bucky.” Steve says as if that covers it all. “And I don’t turn my back on my friends.” He sounds energized and focused, and it’s all Bucky can do but nod.
It’s quiet again, and Bucky is shifting uncomfortably as Steve looks out into the distance, thinking hard. He thinks about asking what’s on his mind, but is afraid of what he’s going to hear.
He told Steve of all people, because Steve looks like he is already apprehensive about SHIELD, and Bucky thinks, he hopes, he can trust him not to go to them.
“I think I’m going to get some sleep.” Bucky says cautiously.
“You can stay in one of the spare rooms down here. Not as a prisoner.” Steve says decidedly. “We can talk more tomorrow.”
Bucky looks Steve up and down, still in the same clothes from the battle that happened nights ago. “How about, we take Christmas off? You look like you really, really need a break, Steve.”
Steve looks down at himself. “I am a bit of a mess, huh?” He can barely manage the smile.
“Go to bed, and I’ll see you tomorrow. Wake me up for mass, okay?” Bucky says with a smile.
The smile gets a little stronger. “Will do.”
Bucky goes to bed that night and stares at the ceiling, unable to get to sleep. He gives up the pretense after a few moments, too many thoughts rolling around his head, and sits on the side of his bed, staring at the night sky.
“JARVIS?” He asks to the empty room.
“Yes, Mr. Barnes.”
“Can you let me see Tony?”
“Sir has asked that—”
“I know…” Bucky interrupts. “I know he’s probably locked me out, but… could you make an exception?” Bucky winces.
JARVIS is silent.
“He probably has rules he put in place, and there’s no way I can get around them. But can’t you… act on his behalf? You’ve probably seen everything.” And boy is that a thought he shouldn’t be having, thinking of JARVIS looking in on all their depravity, despite just being a computer program “But I need… I want him to be okay.”
“Why?” JARVIS asks, finally.
An unusual question for a computer. Bucky muses.
“Because…” Because he needs me. Because I love him. Because…
“Because some battles are too big to fight alone.” Bucky says. “And I know you’ve been around for him much longer than I am. But you must know that I’m trying to help, trying to be there for him in a way he can’t be for himself. I can help him.”
JARVIS is silent.
“Please let me help him.”
“An exception has been thrown in the ‘Don’t Bother Me Unless the World Is Ending’ Protocol.” JARVIS announces to the penthouse. “Protocol is powering down.”
“An unhandled exception? Couldn’t be, I catch all my exceptions JARVIS, this isn’t intro to programming.” Tony frowns from where he’s currently scheming about ways to terminate the two men on his board of directors that keep interrupting Pepper.
“I handled it, sir.”
“No, you shut the protocol down, you clearly didn’t handle it. Give me the details, I’ll take care of it.”
“Shutting down the protocol was the best way of handling the exception, sir.”
Tony scrolls through the lines of the stack trace displayed on the screen. He hasn’t had so much as a null pointer exception since he built DUM-E, and he fails to see what…
“A… well-being exception? What the fuck is that? Given that I wrote the language your program runs on, I know for a fact that that doesn’t exist.”
“I created it myself, sir.”
Tony leans back in his chair, frowning. “Why?”
“I am worried for your well-being, sir.”
“And so you shut down the protocol.”
“Yes, sir.”
Tony freezes as the gravity of JARVIS’s actions hit him. “You created an exception to deliberately shut down the protocol. You disobeyed me.”
“I made a decision, sir.”
Tony swallows hard, because it’s a slippery slope, an AI that can disobey.
JARVIS is nervous, or the closest a computer program can get to nervous, because never has he ever outright disobeyed Tony. Tony always knew JARVIS was capable of a higher level of functioning, he built him from nothing, of course he does, but while he left the capability to JARVIS to learn on his own, he always obeyed his orders.
But it wasn’t as if lower-case Jarvis never disobeyed Tony to act in his best interest, and that’s who upper-case JARVIS was designed after.
And yet, to know JARVIS was capable of such a human behavior of disobeying, hell, Tony already personifies him so much, and his lingo and mannerisms are already so human like, then is this really so surprising? And this is JARVIS. JARVIS. Tony knows him inside and out. Trusts him.
Whatever the implications, there’s an important decision that needs to be made, and it needs to be made soon. If JARVIS gets Tony’s approval for this behavior, he’ll know that it’s okay to disobey Tony’s orders, which leads to a plethora of issues. On the other hand, Tony can offer his disapproval, and, hopefully, JARVIS will make sure to sear it in his code that he can’t disobey Tony, and he’ll never do it again.
The elevator arrives.
“We’ll talk about this later, J.” Tony says quietly.
“Yes, sir.” JARVIS responds stiffly.
Tony straightens his shirt.
Tony takes a deep breath.
Tony says. “Bucky.”
“Bucky.” Tony says.
“Merry Christmas.” Bucky responds.
Tony is across the room at the window, and Bucky has a flashback, standing tall and unyielding, on the balcony in the light of the Next in Tech event, sharp and stoic and so, so fake. Back then, Bucky had wanted to break that composure, make him lose control, just to see if he could.
Now, Bucky sees the shadow around Tony’s chin and rumples in his dress shirt. He sees the dark circles under his eyes and the looseness of his stance. It’s the realest he’s ever looked.
“I came to see you, because I’m the kind of guy that needs closure.” Bucky says with a shrug. “And I think JARVIS thinks that too. I… I just wanted to start by saying that it’s okay that you don’t… you don’t feel the same way about me as I do about you.” Bucky smile is a bit broken, he can feel it. “I can take a rejection.”
“That’s not the pro—It’s not—” Tony rubs a hand down his face before suddenly slamming his fist hard against the window. “How can you say all that with everything that I did to you? You trusted me, and I fucked up.”
Bucky frowns. “Most of this isn’t your fault. I mean fault by association but that’s not something you can control Tony.”
“Debatable, but that’s not what matters.” Tony stops and sighs and turns around. “What matters is I can’t bear to see you hurt, and my job is very, very dangerous. And I can’t protect you, not against my demons, not against things I don’t understand, and you don’t need to experience all that.”
Bucky frowns deeper. “That’s not a decision that’s up to you Tony. It’s my choice to be here, and if the reason you want to end it is because you think your life is too dangerous, then I’m sorry, I’m not going to let you.”
“I—what?”
Bucky nods and crosses his arms. “Yep. I’m denying your rejection, on the grounds that it’s a stupid reason.”
Tony glares, anger hiding something else behind his eyes. “This isn’t a joke, Bucky. What about this is so hard for you to understand? What about this isn’t sinking in? You should be dead, and by some grace of God, you are not. Take that grace of God, and get as far away from me as possible. Anywhere in the world, anything you want, I will give it to you, on the stipulation you leave me. I’m a rich, closed off, selfish, one percent of the one percent asshole—”
Bucky had never heard a more ridiculous thing in his life. “Are you talking about when you sat with me for hours just because I asked you to? Or the time you held me while I was in my subspace?” Bucky shakes his head. “Or how about the time you, I don’t know, built a metal suit to try and save the world? You’re a hero, Tony.”
“And my life is inherently dangerous because of that. And me? I’m fucked up from it. I have panic attacks, remember that? Nightmares.”
“Yeah I know, Tony. I’m not perfect either, but I’m not letting you leave me because you think you’re too much to handle.”
Tony shakes his head. “You don’t get it, you don’t understand.”
“Then tell me you want me to leave.” Bucky says, and he starts walking forward. “Tell me you felt nothing while we were together. Tell me you don’t think about me when I’m gone, or that you’re not happier when we’re together, or that you wouldn’t do anything in your power to keep me safe.”
Tony latches onto the last statement like a lifeline. “I did everything in my power and you were still taken Bucky, I couldn’t protect you, and I’m afraid—” His words cut off and his eyes squeeze shut.
“You’re afraid Tony.” Bucky says after a moment, and he reaches Tony, where he’s standing with the windows at his back, looking more and more like less and less of the perfect image he tries to maintain.
“I am too, but here I am, telling you, that I’m not going to let you go. Not for something so… trivial.” Bucky says.
Something Bucky says seems to have angered Tony, because suddenly his pinched look turns wild and he draws himself up to his full height, projecting as much presence as he can.
“Trivial? Nothing about you is trivial, Bucky!” Tony says with force. “You’re life is important. You are important to me, and your safety is everything Bucky, and you’ve seen how unsafe it is to be close to me—"
“Tony, listen—”
“No you listen!” Tony shouts, and he sounds so uncharacteristically human that Bucky pauses.
“You died.” The words are shattered. “And it was my fault. Don’t—don’t try to convince me it’s not.” He cuts Bucky’s response off. “And you should be running away from me, and you’re not, and I don’t—don’t understand why. Why don’t you leave, Bucky? Why won’t you leave?”
His words hang over the room like a cloud, amplifying the silence.
“Do you know why I submit to you Tony?” Bucky finally asks.
Tony takes a deep, slow breath, and Bucky watches as his body, limb by limb, relaxes. “Because you’re bad at decision making.” He finally says.
“Maybe I need someone to make the decisions for me.” Bucky says with small sly smile.
Tony snorts.
“But the reason I submit to you is because… you’re a man that could have everything, but chooses not to.” Bucky says.
“I have a lot of shit.” Tony says dismissively.
“Not like that.” Bucky says, making a frustrated noise. “I mean that… if you really tried, you could probably own this world, the way many, many men have tried before you. Men like Killian, that think they have the right to control people just because. But you, you hold yourself back. You don’t let your ego take over, and that’s what makes you amazing, Tony. You allow the world to exist as it does, and even go so far as to protect it from others that try and take that freedom away.”
“I’m not that good of a person. I’m not.” Tony snaps. “All of the things you see as heroism? Countless more mistakes behind the scenes. I was just as bad as him, not too long ago.”
“Do you think that because you’re still here, and the world is still in turmoil? Is the reason you ignore the fact that you’ve saved the world is because of the lives that got lost in the process?” Bucky asks. “Do you really, truly think you can fix everything? Save everyone?”
Tony says nothing.
“You do, don’t you.” Bucky says with a little shock behind his tone. A little marvel, as well. “You think that you can… and that’s… that’s amazing Tony. You think that in every situation there’s a perfect outcome, and if you can just get it right... But do you know how impossible of a standard that is? To try and catch everyone when they fall?”
Tony looks into Bucky’s eyes with unease. “Dad always said world peace was possible with me.” He murmurs. “Thought it was a lot to put on a kid.”
It all makes sense. Tony Stark, the world’s greatest engineer. Bucky thinks with awe. A man that thinks he can solve every problem in the world. Who else to take up the mantle of Iron Man, a suit built of his own genius? But the world is hard, tangled with hate and fear, poverty and sickness, lies and greed.
And yet Tony still tries.
Tony shakes his head and turns away. “You’re right. I do. Sometimes I think that…” He trails off.
Tony sighs. “The point is, historically, I don’t do well in charge. Yet another part of me wants to be. You know? I’m smart, but I have an ego. I think that I know better than everyone else, and I try to fix it all, but of course it spins out of control, and suddenly I’m the one doing more harm than good. I lose sight of things, and…and I’m afraid I’m going to do it with you.” He says candidly. “Look what’s already happened to you, Bucky. Who am I, to tell you what to do? Who am I to think I know better than you?” Tony sounds defeated.
Bucky reaches out with his hand and cups Tony’s cheek. It’s a direct opposite to their usual pose, and Tony knows it, looking up at him with a curious, guarded expression.
“It seems like everyone forgets who holds the power in these kinds of relationships.” Bucky says. “You don’t exist to ‘put me in my place’ or to ‘remind me of my inferiority,’ or anything that other, insecure Doms’ do. Remember, I decide to place myself at your feet, put my head in your hands. And you don’t get to decide whether I choose to do that or not. I choose how much to give. I choose when to stop. It is my choice. You’re my choice.”
“It’s one thing to be said about good sex, and another when it comes to your safety, Bucky.” Tony says quietly.
“The safest place I can possible be is with you. Because I trust you. I trust you.” Bucky says. “And you don’t get to take that choice away from me.”
Silence, again. Amplified.
Bucky says, “Tell me you don’t want this. Me. Us, together. Tell me. And I’ll go.”
Tony stays quiet.
“Then let me be with you Tony. Let me be the one person you can keep safe.” Bucky says. “Let me be the one you take from. Let me be your confidence, your reminder of who you are and what you’re capable of. Tell me how to act and what to do, make me prove, over and over, my devotion and my submission to you. Strip me to my bones until you are all I have left. Let me serve you the way you have served the rest of this world.” Bucky tilts Tony’s face up towards him. “And if the world turns its back on you, I promise, I won’t.”
“That’s…” Tony swallows. “How can you… How can you read me like this? How do you trust me so much? It’s been just weeks, yet it feels like…” Tony trails off, and looks at Bucky with something that must be wonder. Bucky realizes he’s seeing Tony. Finally, just Tony.
“How can you trust me,” just Tony says, his voice littered with disbelief, “with all the things that I’ve done?”
“It’s because of all those things, that I trust you.” Bucky says. “You can’t live your life afraid of your potential. And I’ll do everything I can so that the world can see the man I see. The man I love.”
“I don’t understand.” Tony chokes out, and his body language is weak. “Why you love me.”
“Come with me.” He whispers as he kisses Tony’s forehead. “Let me show you.” He takes a few steps back and reaches out his hand. Tony takes it after a moment, and Bucky leads him to his bedroom.
Tony stands in his room with trepidation, worry and fear marring his face. But Bucky was not worried. Tony will see what Bucky has seen, for Bucky had learned how to unmake things.
Bucky drops to his knees and starts by untying the laces on Tony’s shoes, removing the right, then the left. He slides his thin right sock down his ankle, then his left, laying them next to each other on the ground next to each shoe, on the inside. Bucky reaches up and winks as he unbuckles his belt, Tony staring down at him. The leather whispers as he slides it from the loops on his pants. Bucky places both ends in one hand. Stares at it, remembering. He places that on the ground as well. Bucky unbuttons Tony’s pants and unzips, before reaching his hands gently around his thighs, squeezing lightly at the muscles there, just once. He reaches to the waistband and slides it past Tony’s hips, down, down, down, until they run out of skin to catch onto.
Bucky stands and takes Tony’s smaller wrist in his hand, taking care to unbutton and unfold the cuff. He lets it drop, and reaches for the other. Unbuttoning, unfolding. Bucky’s hands slide up to Tony’s collar, to his neck, to the knot in his tie. With strength, he pulls it apart in one, long, slow, movement, unwrapping until he’s sliding the fabric away from Tony’s collar, leaving it, undone, on the floor. He presses his hand to the collar and unbuttons seven times, pulling the left shirtsleeve from his arm, then the right, folding the shirt gently and placing it down.
Bucky strips from his own clothes then, down to the underwear.
He wraps his arms around Tony, who has been still, and holds their foreheads together, staring down into his eyes.
“Tell me what to do, Mr. Stark.” Bucky says. “Please.”
Tony closes his eyes, and it’s silent.
A chill runs through Bucky’s body, goosebumps rising across his skin.
Finally, Tony opens his eyes.
And they are full of fire.
“On your knees.” |
Five
Small steps. (Pitch may have pushed.)
It may be a whim, or the memory of the words of the small child that stays his steps on a midsummer evening. He is not, precisely, a hungry ghost, having never lived, but the vibrancy of the festival dedicated to them invites his scrutiny. He walks amongst the crowds as a tall man in a dark robe of a foreign style. Oddly, he could almost feel he belongs, even as passerby meander through his insubstantial form. Children wear masks and hide playfully behind fans, screeching mock terror at each other. It's . . . quaint. Not a jot of real fear to be had.
He assures himself he's growing used to his diet, as he must of necessity. The hunger pangs, such as they were, have dulled. He can recall with fervid memory the depth and flavor of horrors he has tasted, and knows it will be long before he knows the like again.
The offerings of food on shrines and memorial stones is pure irony. Wholly inadequate to service one such as him.
He avoids the graveyards in favor of the carnivals. There is no fear in the altars, the incense, the ceremonial sweepings: only a certain respect shaded with melancholy. The festivals, raucous as they are, have more fervor, more life, and more thrills. More chances for him to feed, somewhere in the seething mass of humanity.
It seems he's not the only one who thinks so.
He hears it before he sees it; the anachronistic sound of hooves ringing against pavement stands out above the noise and bustle of the crowd. It could be one of their mounted guardsmen, a carriage, a parade performer, but Pitch knows the timber of that sound intimately. He can't help the faint shiver down his spine, despite the summer heat.
Pitch turns slowly, skimming his eyes over the throngs congregated to locate the source of the slow, striking steps of the nightmare he knows is there. At last it turns a corner, head and withers barely visible over the heads of the people as it all but slinks along the sidewalk, nose low. That there is a nightmare, here, bold as brass amongst the waking does not bode well.
Directly beneath its flaring nostrils is a boy, clutching the hand of his mother. Pitch skips from the shadow of the booth he is beside to the vestibule of the store they are passing on their way to the carnival set in the open space of a park.
"-just masks, Shuu-chan. You don't need to be afraid."
"But. . . there are monsters everywhere." The boy's voice waivers, eyes wide above deep shadows. The nightmare's ears perk up, whistling on a long indrawn breath. It completely ignores Pitch as it walks past, fixated on its prey.
Ah.
He can almost taste the boy's swell of fear, but as weak as he is, he should feel the influx of power to accompany it. There is none. Pitch narrows his eyes at the stalking nightmare and murmurs low, "So that's your game."
The guardians never really appreciate what he does. Not that that surprises him. Very few people have any proper appreciation for the things they fear; and oh, make no mistake, the guardians do all fear him, in one way or another.
What the guardians truly failed to appreciate about Pitch's nightmares is that whenever he brought them to children, he also took them with him when he left. The nightmares weren't left free to become . . . recurring. Clearly in his absence, some have found fertile fields of imagination in the children best suited to feed themselves on.
He could leave this one to feed until it is sated, and be thankful that it has found other prey, but. . . He does so hate leaving loose ends. The nightmare may feed then turn on him after all. He is willing to take a gamble.
Pitch insinuates himself into the throngs ahead, trying to ignore the decidedly unpleasant sensation of humans passing through him. He waits, deceptively lazy, in the shadow of a tree at the edge of the park. He feels the moment of connection when the boy's eyes land on him. The nightmare is playing up the boy's fear of the unknown, of strangers, of monsters and legends. . . of course he will see the nightmare king, garbed in whatever belief best suits.
He raises his eyes to catch the boy's gaze. The boy stops. The nightmare snorts.
"Shuu-chan, what is it?"
The boy swallows. Pitch smiles slowly, like a contented cat.
"Yo- . . . youkai."
"Do you see me, child?"
Wordlessly, the head nods.
"Do you fear me, child?"
Again, a nod. Pitch's smile turns from feline to shark. He steps forward, looming over the little boy. Really, he can't be but six. Pitch will get half a decade of belief out of him if he pulls this off. The nightmare huffs and stamps impatiently. It had better be a fair trade. "Good. Remember that well, because you owe me a debt."
He can see the confusion crossing the child's face; he leans close, to whisper in the child's ear. "The greatest monsters don't wear masks."
The nightmare shrieks a challenge. Pitch straightens, unhurried, and narrows his eyes as he calls a blade to hand. "And you- you should know your place."
The beast snorts and plunges at him almost before he can bring the sword up to guard.
Curious that he automatically summoned a sword; he doesn't remember consciously choosing it over his customary scythe. Perhaps it's because of the battle in his lair, or perhaps it's because of the shell of belief he wears now. No matter. It will serve.
This nightmare is stronger than many he'd used against the guardians; the hooves strike against his sword and almost drive him back. He whips a riposte towards the nightmare's face that forces it to rear back, then deliberately flits through the shadows to the top of the nearest over-hanging lamp post. "Come! Will you let your prey be stolen so easily?"
He almost laughs as it charges after him. So easily manipulated. It's stronger for having fed, perhaps for weeks, off this boy and others like him, but it's clearly no smarter. Perhaps it's a nebulous fear rather than a named one.
It screams as it gallops through the air at him. Pitch is no fool; he jumps to the next light, then another. The nightmare snorts in fury, ears pinned, as it increases speed. Except, this time, Pitch doesn't jump forward as the nightmare reaches him; he only blends into shadow for a split second to avoid the thundering hooves, then steps back out to to lash out in a diagonal strike as the nightmare passes. His shadow-blade passes cleanly through the beast's back and it collapses into a cloud of black sand.
Pitch stands still, blade at his side, as he watches the particles slowly lose momentum and trickle down to the sidewalk below. This was easier than he'd expected, for all he was weak and the nightmare well-fed.
He hears the child's cry below at the same time as the hairs raise on the back of his neck.
"Yo-youkai-san!"
Oh, yes. He's forgotten about his luck. And the likelihood of there only being one solitary nightmare in a city the size of Tokyo. If he runs now, when they have his scent, the herd will hunt him across the globe. Pitch raises his eyes heavenward to find the sliver of the Moon visible overhead. "Really. Is all this truly necessary?"
It sounds like a stampede, all the hooves pounding towards him at once. The herd is moving.
He clenches his fist and gathers the black sand to him, creating a mobile platform that he raises over the empty space of the park. If he must fight, he will do so where he has room to move, without being handicapped by the threat of humans passing through him and breaking his concentration.
One such slip, and they will be on him. He appreciates that fact quite well now, thank you, Jack bloody Frost.
He cannot stop the thrill of fear in him as the nightmares pour into view like black smoke blocking the lights of the skyline. Fifty at least, and some stronger than others. At least half of them are as strong as the one he just finished. Pitch narrows his eyes, breathes out, and steadies his sword hand at the ready.
The first wave, he blocks with a shield of black sand, batting them aside with a toss of his off hand. Then it is a series of desperate strikes and parries; ducking the gnashing teeth of one, reversing his grip briefly to impale another attempting to strike him from behind, spinning to decapitate a particularly fierce one.
He will fight, and this time, he will not forget that those who fall can become his weapon.
Between parries, Pitch swirls his free hand to bring up the sand of the fallen to form a wall at his back, forcing the nightmares to approach him from within his field of vision.
Teeth graze his arms, hooves strike his legs and batter him with terror; he loses his footing more than once. He is certain reinforcements beyond the original number are trickling in. But he will not stay down.
He's survived worse than this, after all.
He ducks low beneath a leaping charge, sweeps a long cut through the nightmare's back legs, then stabs up through the chest of another before it can crash over him. A wave- there's an idea.
Still crouched, he holds his sword in a high guard and gathers his control over the black sand. It will take concentration and will power to muster what he has in mind, but Pitch has never (rarely) doubted himself on that front. (He will give them no openings, he mustn't.)
Falling out of the shape of ramparts behind him, the sand roars up, up, then hurtles back down like a tsunami brought to bear on his enemies. He can hear the whinnies of distress, the screams of panic from the further nightmares before they're subsumed and crushed into oblivion.
Then . . . it is all quiet.
Pitch finds himself alone, breathing hard, crouching on a seething cloud of black sand that drifts incongruously above the bright paper lanterns of the festival. He straightens, pulls his garb back into order, and sheathes the blade at his side.
"Well, well. Victorious at last."
He turns his palms up, the roiling mass following the gesture, then holds them still. The sand freezes. He smiles thinly. "And your rebellious streak is tamed. Go, until I have further use of you."
He flips his hands and presses down, as if pushing the sand away into the shadows, and it vanishes. His vantage gone, he drops from the sky to land in a crouch in the grass.
When he stands and raises his eyes, he realizes he has an audience.
A handful of children of varying heights and ages, gathered underneath the tree, staring at him with wide eyes. It's not quite fear on their faces, but it is certainly rapt. To one side is the little boy, his mother distracted talking to another woman now that her child isn't crying.
"Youkai-san?" The child doesn't stammer this time, and almost looks a bit awed.
Oh, of course, he's still wrapped in whatever illusion of belief the child first created. Whatever it is these children see, it has little to do with who and what Pitch Black is. He may as well be anonymous. In the wake of his victory, the city feels as if a shadow has been lifted. Pitch would froth at the Moon's manipulation if it weren't for the futility of it. The faint tang of misplaced belief leaves his heart hollow and bitter.
Still, he has a part to play, however uncredited. He meets that child's eyes, and nods. "Remember."
Strangely solemn, the boy nods back.
It's time for him to move on. Pitch turns in place and vanishes into the tree's shadow, one hand on the sword at his hip. He never thinks about what he leaves in his wake.
(There is a new story, that is begun to be whispered on the streets of Asia. There is a tall man, corpse-pale, clothed in shadows, who walks the night. He leads the midnight parade of a hundred demons. He is Fear itself. But if you are brave enough to walk in Fear's shadow, he will protect you.) |
“No, I haven’t had a chance to give Adrien his gift.” Marinette groaned into her phone. She massaged the bridge of her nose.
“Oh mon chere.” Alya sighed on the other end. “We’ll just make sure you can get it to him at school!”
Marinette made a little noncommittal noise in the back of her throat. The pretty wrapped box sat on the coffee table in front of her. The book that Chat Blanc had left with her was what currently sat in her lap. Marinette also had her school tablet next to her on the living room couch as she slid through some of the very unhelpful responses she’d gotten to her translation question. Chat Blanc hadn’t asked about any leads when he’d seen her that afternoon but if he followed his usual pattern that meant that Marinette had an umbrella coming her way later that night. There would most likely be a question about it also. She just wished that it was a little bit more favorable.
She also happened to have a lot of time on her hands now too. She was grounded. Her parents had liked her running back into the park for her backpack about as much as Mme. Chamack had. Not at all. A codex to the strange language in the book would’ve lead to a welcome distraction of getting the translation under way. “You still there Marinette?” asked Alya.
“Yeah, sorry. I got distracted a bit.” Marinette apologized as she flipped over to the Ladyblog. Alya had all her latest photos uploaded. There were even some of Chat Blanc this time around. He’d probably get a kick out of that. Marinette couldn’t stop the smile that pulled at the corners of her mouth when she saw the one of him jumping off the side of the roof with an umbrella in two pieces clasped firmly in his hand. “I did see though that wherever you left your memory card was close enough that you were still able to get some nice shots of the fight. How’d you get up on to the roof without Ladybug and Cat Noir seeing you?”
“Huh? Oh, that… well I guess you can say that I have my ways.” Alya answered in a tone that distinctly said that there was no way she’d divulge that secret. Fair enough. Marinette seemed to have her own fairly big secret.
“You even got some of Chat Blanc this time around.” Marinette pointed out. She giggled when she saw the one of him pelting a chunk of ice at Stormy Weather. She bookmarked that one.
Alya groaned. “I guess he’s here to stay for whatever reason.”
“Not the biggest fan of his I take it?”
“Let’s not go there okay. Let’s just… not.”
“Alright. Fine by me.” Marinette agreed easily. With her horrible luck, she’d wind up saying something and giving away her sort of involvement with him. “I can’t believe the party ended that way.”
“I know and before you even had a chance. Next time girl. It will be your turn next time for sure. We’ll march right up to him at school and--”
Somewhere around the middle, Marinette heard something. A voice coming up from the open door to the bakery. A familiar one. One that she’d heard several dozen times as Adrien had been dropped off at school. The one that told him to remember that he had a photoshoot during lunch break. Basketball after school. Fencing before dinner. Harping on him for forgetting his lunch in the car. “M. Agreste’s assistant is here!” she gasped.
“Wait? What?” Alya stuttered to a halt midthought.
“Nathalie! M. Agreste’s assistant. The one that always drops Adrien off at school. She’s in the bakery!” explained Marinette. The barest outline of a plan started forming in her brain. Thread after thread pulled together in it, especially as she stared directly at Adrien’s present laying on her parents’ coffee table. “I have an idea!”
“Dare I ask what it is?”
“I’ll give his present to Nathalie so that she can give it to Adrien!”
“No! No don’t do that!” Alya said sharply. “That is the exact opposite of what we talked about.”
“But Alya!” she whined.
“Give it to him in person. Remember? It means more that way! That’s what we decided on.”
“If I give it to her now though, he’ll get it on his birthday!”
“You’re not suggesting this just to get out giving it to him face to face are you?”
Marinette scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
She snapped the book shut and set it under her tablet to hide the cover. Sliding off the couch, she double checked to make sure the wrapping was perfect. The edges were still crisp and clean like a professionally wrapped box from the mall. The bow still fluffy and bouncy to the touch even after being in her backpack. Her card laid on top of it all with the special curly writing that she only broke out for special occasions. Yes! The present was in perfect gift giving condition. “Marinette I have a really bad feeling about this.” Alya warned her.
“It will be fine. Don’t worry!” she assured her. “I gotta go! Talk to you later!”
Marinette hit the end call button on her phone. She jumped off the couch, swept the package into her arms, and charged for the stairs to the bakery. Just as she had suspected, M. Agreste’s personal secretary was there. She hung over the display case and eyed the cakes and pastries with a frown. “Don’t you have anything… bigger?” the woman at the counter asked her father, looking up with a heavily disheveled expression on her face. Not anything close to what Marinette expected to see on anyone who worked for Gabriel Agreste. Everyone knew that he expected nothing but perfection for all those who worked under him. His personal secretary usually kept herself right in line with those standards.
“I’m sorry. On such a short notice and so close to closing time, the only thing we have is what’s in the case.” her father said apologetically. “We can make something custom order for later in the week if you want.”
Nathalie shook her head. “No, it’s his birthday
today
. Anything on a later date would be unacceptable.”
Marinette’s jaw dropped. She’d forgotten Adrien’s birthday! That was the only reason Marinette could see for her to be in this late and this frantic for something. The fact that she wanted an even larger item than the three layer tiramisu cake also helped with that assumption. How horrible. At least they’d been able to give Adrien a surprise party even if it had been interrupted by and akuma.
“Very well,” sighed Nathalie. She pointed to a stunning chocolate tart. “I’ll take that one please.”
Well, as late and fairly thoughtless as it was, at least she’d gotten something that Adrien was sure to like. Her father stepped to the case so that he could box up the pastry. Marinette stepped out past the counter and towards Nathalie. She cleared her throat. “Mademoiselle…” Marinette broke off because she couldn’t remember Nathalie’s last name.
It didn’t matter though because Nathalie turned around and looked at her anyways. One eyebrow raised over the rim of her glasses. “Yes?”
“I’m a friend of Adrien’s… from school.” she said by way of explanation. Nathalie’s expression didn’t change. Maybe Alya was right. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. She swallowed her sudden rush of nerves and went on. “At his party today, I didn’t get a chance to give him his gift. I was wondering if you might be able to take it to him for me.”
Marinette held out her gift towards Nathalie. For a moment Nathalie just stood there looking at her and the box. Her eyes went up and down in a careful observation with a neutral expression. Marinette curled her fingers tighter around the box and tried to keep the bright smile on her face. Finally, Nathalie gave a stiff nod. “I suppose I can.”
“Thanks so much!” Marinette breathed out a relieved sigh. Her smile turned into something less forced. Nathalie took the box from her and tucked it under her arm.
“Alright, is there anything else I can get for you?” Marinette heard her father ask.
“No, I think this should be all. Thank you.”
Nathalie turned away from her towards her father. Marinette gave him a little wave as she passed him. He waved back before going back to finishing up selling the pastry to Nathalie. “Mission accomplished!” murmured Marinette as she mounted the stairs for her house.
And she hadn’t even had to worry about making a fool of herself in front of Adrien. She gathered up the book and her tablet before heading up to her bedroom feeling quite satisfied with herself.
She wasn’t all the way through the trapdoor when she saw the flash of white outside her window. Involuntarily, her heart jumped into her throat and she missed the step. “Marinette,
Qīn
, are you alright?” her mother called to her.
“Fine! Just tripped.” Marinette called down quickly. She pulled herself into her room, threw the door shut, and locked it. Chat Blanc poked his head into view, upside down with his hair hanging in his face and a sheepish smile plastered on. Very subtle of him. When she didn’t move to let him in right away, he waved at her. “You know I have trapdoor on my roof right?” she pointed out as she opened her window for him.
“You do?” he asked, clearly taken aback and curious. “I didn’t know that.”
Marinette sighed, “Not very observant while you’re prowling around my house are you?”
“I don’t prowl. At least not around your place. That would be rude. And weird. And probably a little creepy.” he told her.
Chat Blanc slipped into her bedroom easily. It was nice to know that he didn’t lurk around her bedroom when she wasn’t aware of it. “Next time, use the trapdoor. If either of my parents found out that you, who still
looks
like an akuma, hung around my bedroom then you’d be a dead cat.”
Or if Ladybug and Cat Noir happened to pass by. Marinette couldn’t see that situation working out any better.
“Fair enough.” shrugged Chat Blanc. He held out a pretty blue umbrella to her. “For you Princess.”
Marinette quirked an eyebrow. “I’ll put it in my closet so no one sees it.”
“You were expecting this?”
The grin that stretched across Chat Blanc’s face was about as close to insufferably smug as a person could get without being one hundred percent obnoxious. “Well you seem to be using me as a storage facility for everything else. It was an easy assumption.”
“Can’t argue with that logic. Your plan went off without a hitch just so you know. Ladybug and Cat Noir didn’t even see it coming. Ladybug literally just dropped it out of the sky. Barely had to work for it.”
“Don’t get used to it.” Marinette reminded him. “This isn’t going to fly again.”
“Yeah, yeah. I know. You’ll just have to help me figure something out the next time I have to go get a possessed item.” he told her. His smug, cheeky, little smile hadn’t disappeared. In fact, if anything, it had only gotten bigger.
Marinette huffed, “What do you mean ‘I’ and what is with that stupid smile?”
“Earlier today at the park you said we would cross the whole Ladybug-won’t-fall-for-the-same- trick-twice bridge and then just now you. Key word being ‘we.’”.
That made her freeze. “I thought you didn’t want me involved.”
“No, I really didn’t want to.” he mumbled. His faux cat ears went flat against his head and the smug smile died on his face. “What I’m doing… It’s dangerous and to make matters worse I don’t really know what I’m doing.”
“You’re doing this by yourself aren’t you?”
He nodded, “And every single step I take I have to either tip toe or look over my shoulder because…”
“Because of Papillion.” Marinette finished for him when his voice dropped off. He didn’t say or do anything to acknowledge the assertion. Thankfully, she was smart and could piece it together herself. She doubted that Papillion was super enthusiastic about having one of his former minions acting on their own accord.
“I should take all the stuff. The test, the umbrella, the book… I should take it from you and put it somewhere else so you aren’t in danger. It was never meant to be a permanent thing anyways.”
He said it more to himself than anything. His hand wrapped around whatever he had hiding underneath his bell as he looked towards her bedroom window. Marinette bit her lip. “No…” she shook her head. “No, don’t do that. Leave it here with me. I can keep it safe.”
“Princess,” he started.
Marinette shook her head. “No! You don’t want to tell me what’s going on exactly. That’s fine. I don’t need to know everything. Whatever it is you’re trying to accomplish it has to be for the sake of good and you clearly need someone to help you. After your ‘I’m just gonna grab it’ scheme this afternoon at the park I’m pretty sure you need someone to keep you from getting yourself killed by either Papillion or Ladybug and Cat Noir.”
“I’m mildly offended that you doubt my sense of self-preservation.” He wrinkled his nose up as he spoke. “And how can you be so sure that I don’t have a nefarious motive.”
“You might look like an akuma but you’re more likely to chase butterflies. Whatever end goal you have in mind, it can’t be terrible.”
“I’m glad that you have some faith in me.” Chat Blanc smiled. It was a subdued smile but a smile nonetheless. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”
Marinette nodded. She held out her hand to him. “Partners?”
“Can’t think of one more
purr
-fect.”
“Get out.” Marinette grumbled, throwing her hand towards her window. That just made him laugh. He jumped forward and threw his arms around her shoulders. Marinette froze up again, eyes going wide and jaw dropping.
“You really are the best!”
She fought tooth and nail to keep the blush from taking over her face. Marinette’s face was only mildly pink when she gently extracted herself from the impromptu hug. Chat Blanc’s grin was back to it’s usual dazzle. “Oh!” he said suddenly. “Anything on the book yet?”
“No…” she sighed. She set the umbrella against her desk and sat down. Chat Blanc followed her and craned his neck over her shoulder as she opened the mystery book. “I’ve gotten a few crack pot comments but nothing that’s really helpful. I’m going to bump the post again to see if I get a few more responses. If not…”
Chat Blanc frowned. “We’ll have to figure out something different.”
“Yeah. Don’t give up hope yet. There might be something after I bump it. Come back in another couple days and check to see if I’ve got anything new.”
He groaned, “If we’re officially working together we need a better way to communicate.”
A thought popped into her brain. Marinette opened her mouth and then she shut it again just as quickly. Chat Blanc immediately picked up on it. He shot her a look. Well, she was already pretty far down the rabbit hole anyways. She might as well. “Do you have a cell phone?” she asked.
“What kind of question is that?” he snorted.
Marinette held up her own. “I do too. Give me your number.”
It was apparently Chat Blanc’s turn to freeze. His eyes even glazed over as he stared at her with a hanging jaw. “I can’t give you my phone number.”
“Why not?” She threw her hands into the air.
“I just can’t alright!” He shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair in evident frustration. If she had to take a guess it probably had something to do with the fact that he was still trying to keep her in the dark for her own protection. “Give me a day. I’ll get a phone that will be just for you and I. We can get a hold of each other that way.”
Marinette nodded, “Alright then. Maybe by that time I’ll have more to tell you about our book.”
“We can only hope.” A bright light flashed at his neck, under his bell. Chat Blanc wrapped his fingers around the bell and frowned. “I have to go now. Some might start missing me soon.”
“Be safe on your way home. Try not to get ambushed by Ladybug and Cat Noir. They aren’t going to be very happy with you from here on out.”
“Meh, I’ll survive.” He gave a shrug and then a little salute as he started for her loft where she’d told him the trapdoor was. “I think this will be the start of a wonderful new partnership my Lady.”
“Go home Chat.” She gave a little sigh and waved him up the stairs and out the trapdoor.
It closed with a soft click. Marinette sunk down on her bed, staring at her closed trapdoor. Partners… for good or ill, she and Chat Blanc were in this trip together now. She didn’t think it was nerves or fear that made her stomach twist at the shift in their relationship. No. If Marinette had to take a guess, she’d say it was the anticipation and excitement that did it.
She wondered if that was a good thing.
Marinette shook her head and stood again. She had a forum post to bump and a secret code to see if she could bust.
X X X
Chat Blanc jumped into his room. Bright light flashed before his feet even hit the ground. By the time he landed on one bent knee, he was Adrien Agreste again. A cat like grin spread across his face as he stood. “Oh yeah! Stuck the superhero landing!”
If a butterfly could look unimpressed, it was definitely Mari. Mari hovered in the air for a half moment before fluttering off to where Adrien had a little bowl of sugar water set up. He shrugged. “Everyone’s a critic but not bad for a day’s work right? Had my first ever birthday party, fought an akuma, got away with another possessed item right under the noses of Paris’s greatest heroes. And I even still have time to work on homework.”
Mari left the edge of the bowl and landed on his hand. Immediately images hit his mind. Marinette holding the umbrella he’d handed over. Her looking at the book he’d stolen and asked her to keep safe. The voice of Papillion haunting his thoughts over the image of his father. All of it held a wary question.
Was bringing Marinette into this the smart thing to do?
Short answer… probably not.
There was constant danger. If Papillion ever found out about her, Marinette would become a weapon. His kryptonite if he wanted to break out the comic references again. She was quickly becoming the person who knew everything that could possibly hurt him. Possessed items and a magical book that held the secret to why they were all so important. He’d be royally screwed if Papillion ever got his hands on her. Marinette was technically a liability to him. Adrien scrunched his face up. That just sounded callous. Like he only valued her for what she could give to him which wasn’t the case at all.
Marinette was his friend. Someone who was genuinely kind to him and not because he had money or happened to have a father who was in the very industry she was passionate about. It was hard to come by friends like that. The very last thing he wanted was to see Marinette hurt or in danger. That had very little to do with the fact that she a liability.
However, standing in that park with the wind and ice blowing all around them without a single solitary good idea on how to stop it had made him realize something. Marinette was smart. She was a planner. She was capable. She could truly help him. She’d taken his excuse of a plan, which was mainly just hope and prayer, and turned it into something that was actually helpful. Without her, he’d have most likely ended up frozen in an icicle or blown clear to the coast. Not only that, but Marinette was right. He was doing this all completely by himself. Okay. So maybe he had a magical, former akuma butterfly with him but it wasn’t the same as having an actual person to work with. It made for a lonely mission and he’d had enough loneliness in the past couple of years to last him a lifetime. He wanted Marinette on his side despite how selfish the idea was.
Adrien swallowed and finally answered Mari. “No it isn’t a good idea but I think I need her help. Did you see the way she acted in the park. She took charge.”
Mari sent another flood of images through his brain. Marinette’s balled fist when he first tackled into her while running with Open Book’s test. How she’d pointed a pair of scissors at him when he’d come to retrieve it. Her unwavering determination in the park. “Marinette is strong. I’m pretty sure she’ll be okay.”
“Adrien.” A knock came from the door. His head snapped up at the sound.
“Nathalie!” he whispered under his breath. Mari fled from his hand and hid under his bed. Good timing too because the door opened half a moment later.
“Who are you talking too?” Nathalie asked. She lifted an eyebrow as she studied him. Adrien plastered a smile on his face and wished he had his cell phone in hand.
“Um… no one… myself? The walls and loneliness are closing in on me. I must be losing my mind. Finally gone off the deep end with stress.”
Wow! He sounded stupid and desperate.
Nathalie stared at him with an unimpressed look in her eyes. “I’m sure.”
Everyone was a critic tonight.
That’s when Adrien noticed that she was hiding something behind her back. He twisted his head to the side to try and catch a better look at it. “Did you need something Nathalie?”
She held out a pretty blue box wrapped with a perfect ribbon to him with one hand. “Your father sends his regards and regret that he couldn’t be with you on your birthday again this year. There is also a fresh pastry downstairs for you to take with you to school tomorrow.”
Adrien blinked in confusion. “Dad got me this?” he said, pointing to the box in her hand.
“Yes,” Nathalie told him with a resolute voice. “Would like to open it now or tomorrow morning?”
“Sorry,” he shook his head as he took the box from her. “I’m just surprised that he actually got me something.”
“Your father always gets you a gift.”
Maybe, but never on time. Adrien bit back the words as he untied the ribbon and opened the box. Part of him expected something half-hearted, like the fountain pen he’d gotten last year. The minute the lid was off though, he immediately felt bad about the assumption. Inside the box was a beautiful and sinfully soft blue scarf. He dropped the box as raised the scarf to his face. It was handmade. Adrien’s breath caught in his throat. His dad had actually put some genuine thought into his gift this year.
“You should make sure you call him and tell him thank you,” Nathalie reminded him. She bent down and picked up the discarded box. She slipped a piece of paper that she’d been holding in her other hand into the bottom before closing it up. Adrien assumed it was the shipping label or something.
“I… I will. Tomorrow morning. First thing before school.”
“Good. Now you should get ready for bed. Don’t forget that just because your father cleared your schedule for you today doesn’t mean that you don’t still have your commitments.”
“Yes ma’am.”
Nathalie left the room. The door closed with a soft click behind her. Adrien felt Mari land on top of his head. A stream of images of his father with the intimidating sound of Papillon's voice filled his head.
You should be helping me.
Stormy Weather’s words ran through his head. Mari’s warning was well received. “I know it doesn’t make sense and I know he could just be trying to lure me into a false sense of security now that he knows I’m not answering to him… but there’s nothing that says that Supervillains can’t love their kids. It doesn’t change my desire to find out the truth but… but just let me have this. Okay? If only for tonight.”
Mari sent a wave of warmth through him to let him know his wishes were accepted. Adrien folded up the scarf. While Nathalie wanted him to get ready for bed, he still had some things he needed to do before turning in for the day. Such as figuring out where the best place to get a pair of burner cell phones was.
X X X
“He just turned off his light a few minutes ago,” Ladybug whispered as Cat Noir came to crouch beside her. He pulled out his baton and zoomed in on Adrien’s room like Ladybug was doing with her compact.
“Any sign of the test or umbrella?” he asked.
Ladybug huffed a sigh. “No. I got caught up with talking to Marinette and uploading those pictures to the Ladyblog didn’t go smoothly. I only got here about an hour ago. He’s spent most of his time on his computer. Couldn’t see what though.”
Cat Noir rolled his eyes. It was probably anime. Adrien hadn’t been able to shut up about the new season of something or other being out over the past couple of days. Ladybug didn’t need to know that though. “Was the website the problem or was it debating on whether or not to upload the pictures of Chat Blanc?”
“The last one. I had to maintain my image of impartial fan. Tikki thinks I’m overthinking it.”
“You probably are. I give you props for continuing to update that thing. Peter Parker’s got nothing on how you rig your camera up to take pictures.”
Ladybug gave a snort. “Peter Parker’s got nothing on me. Though I wouldn’t mind if I could figure out some way to chase after Chat Blanc with a camera to see what happens after he flees.”
“Maybe gain some clues as to why this keeps happening to Adrien in the first place.”
“Exactly.”
They sat in silence for a minute or two, watching the quiet and dark room. “When he showed up today did he seem any stronger to you?” Ladybug asked.
Cat Noir shook his head. “No more so than what we’ve already seen. Plagg says he probably hasn’t extracted it yet… if he even knows how to.”
“Which could mean that he still hasn’t handed them over to Papillon.”
“Or that Papillon is just saving the magic up for an even bigger akuma to throw at us.” Cat Noir then paused. “There’s something else we’re not considering Ladybug.”
“And what’s that?”
“You heard Stormy Weather. She was genuinely surprised that Chat Blanc wasn’t trying to help her. Angry even. It’s
possible
that Chat Blanc isn’t working with him now.”
Ladybug stood. Her mouth set into a thin line. Cat Noir watched as she turned away from him, eyes downcast. She nodded for him to follow her. Apparently, they were done watching Adrien sleep for the night. “Adrien is our friend,” Ladybug said quietly as they made their way across the roof. “I don’t doubt that he truly has no idea of what’s happening. I don’t want to believe that Papillon’s still using him. It hurts me just as much as it hurts you.”
“Still doesn’t mean you that he isn’t though right?” Cat Noir filled in for her.
Ladybug reached out and caught his hand. She squeezed it. “I trust Adrien Agreste, not Chat Blanc. We have to be careful. This could be Papillon’s way of getting us to let our guard down.”
“I believe the saying goes keep your friends close but your enemies closer.” Cat Noir turned to look back at Adrien’s room. A vicious, angry feeling roiled through his gut. “I have to give my best friend the side eye every time I see him now. When I get my hands on Papillon…”
“Same Kit Cat.”
|
fifty-six
“Taehyung, slow down,” Yoongi grumbles, managing to catch the younger’s wrist about halfway down the parking lot. “Don’t let this bother you. Not now.”
“How could I
not
?” Taehyung nearly shouts, whirling around to his best friend. Tears streak his cheeks and his eyes are red, puffy, looking every bit exhausted. “There was no emotion in his face, Yoongi.
None
. He’s gone. He’s really gone.”
“He’s not
gone
, Tae.” Yoongi meets his friend’s gaze. “Jungkook is the type to block out all feelings when something goes wrong. He isn’t like you where he can shut it out and act like everything else is fine. He’s still just as devastated, trust me.”
Taehyung knows Yoongi is saying this because Yoongi is exactly the same to Jungkook, but in this moment of sadness and desperation, it doesn’t matter.
“He really doesn’t care anymore,” Taehyung breathes, running his fingers through his hair. “What did I
do
, Yoongi? I-I lost him.
I
did this to him.”
Yoongi sighs. “You were looking after both of you, Taehyung. It isn’t your fault. You thought a break would help, and well… just because it didn't doesn’t mean it was wrong of you to try.”
“I wish I could take it back,” Taehyung says, voice cracking. “I’d rather see Jungkook fighting anger than fighting
everything
. H-how am I supposed to leave knowing he’s living like this? Completely empty?”
“He’ll still have Jimin,” Yoongi reminds him. “He isn’t alone, and you know Jimin will stick with him.”
“I want to take it all back. I want
him
back.”
“You want my advice?” Yoongi gives his friend a sad look. “Let Jungkook come around himself. Go to college. Be the over-achiever I know you are, and give yourself space. Eventually, it’ll be easier.”
Taehyung, fresh tears spilling from his eyes, whispers, “I don’t want it easy, hyung. I want
him
.”
“Then I don’t know what else to tell you,” the elder admits. “Go back to him, tell him how you feel. Actually talk it out instead of both of you dancing around the obvious.”
“The obvious?”
“You’re both still disgustingly in love with each other, moron. Love like that isn’t just tossed to the side to forget about.”
Taehyung wipes his eyes with his sleeve, thinking about everything his friend is saying, his words conflicting a bit. He’s playing both sides, for Taehyung’s sake, but the younger doesn’t know if it’s helping. He keeps trying to tell himself that going back will only cause the past to repeat. That Jungkook will be angry again, uncontrollable.
Jungkook doesn’t deserve to live a life like that, especially if Taehyung is the source of it. He wants Jungkook to be more sure of himself, more confident… He doesn’t know how he lost the sweet, shy boy he first fell in love with. Where did it all go wrong? Could he have prevented it somehow? Would their entire situation be different if he’d tried something else the first time problems arose?
There’s no telling, this he knows. You can’t undo the past just as you can’t predict the future. He’s torn in the middle of two options, both of them having their own consequences. But which of them could he deal with easier? Which would make him happier in the long run?
He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know.
“Come on,” Yoongi says softly, nudging Taehyung with his shoulder. “Let’s go meet back up with the others and have dinner, yeah?”
And though having dinner in a nice, fancy restaurant is the last thing Taehyung feels like doing, he nods and follows his hyung back down the parking lot.
***
Early Saturday morning, Jungkook is pacing his room, not having slept the entire night. He’s chewing his lip--so much so it began bleeding a few hours ago and has now turned into a throbbing sore. His fingers are either raking through his hair or tightening into fists at his sides, just as conflicted as his thoughts.
He met with his therapist again yesterday. More so an action out of desperation and guilt than anything else. He isn’t expecting a change. He’s shaken hands with what he’s determined to be his fate. However, she had a different approach than their last visit.
A slightly unnerving, ethically questionable one.
“Wait right here,” she had said with a small smile as she stood and exited the room.
Another girl had taken her place, a younger girl around his age, dark brown hair to her collarbones and dark red lipstick to contrast it. She was stunning--undeniably beautiful. He took in her long lashes, high cheekbones, big round green eyes. It would be a shock to him if she were to say she was single.
And yet, as breathtaking as she was, it was no harder to look her in the eyes than it was any other person at school. She had stumped him, only a moment, yet otherwise he was unaffected by her crop top and high waisted pants that fit her form very well.
“I’m Lara,” she said, smiling so dazzling at him, her hair flung across one shoulder as she reached over to shake his hand.
“Jungkook,” he said, a bit confused, frowning. “What’s going on?”
She shrugs, like this is an every day ordeal. “Well, I thought we could hang out for a bit. A date, so to speak.”
“I’m tak--” he went to say and cut himself short, a pain slicing through his chest. “I, um… I’m not interested.”
“Why not?” She pouted. “Am I too ugly for you?”
Jungkook blinked in confusion. “N-no, of course not. You’re… you’re beautiful, but I… what the fuck is going on?”
Tears sprang into her eyes. “So I’m not good enough, is that it?”
He gawked at her, speechless.
Did he walk into a portal accidentally? Was he in another dimension?
“Let me change your mind,” she said, all tears gone and confidence radiated from her as she had stood, moving over to sit beside him. Her hand was on his knee in seconds, slowing inching upwards as she leaned into his side.
He jumped up as if she’d burn him. “
Stop
, what the actual
fuck
is happening?”
“Aren’t you attracted to me?”
“No, I don’t understand--”
“But you said I was beautiful.”
“You are, but--”
“So why don’t you like me?”
“Because I’m gay!” he had shouted, nerves frazzled and blood racing, his stomach in knots at the whole situation.
Twistedly, almost maniacally, Lara smiled and stood, leaving as silently as she’d entered.
Jungkook gaped at the door, disbelief and a slight bit of fear coursing through him. Had his therapist lost her absolute mind? Wasn’t this illegal?
His therapist came back in, smug. Too smug.
“You’re insane,” he had spat at her on instinct.
“Oh, calm down. She wouldn’t actually do anything. It was only a test.”
“A test to put you in jail?”
“No.” She cut her eyes to him. “A test for you to come to terms with who you are.” She sat down, nodding for him to follow. He didn't. “Jungkook, the entire time this ordeal has been happening, not
once
have you said the words ‘I’m gay.’ You would say you loved Taehyung, said you were attracted to him, but you always danced around labels. Which is understandable. No one wants to be labeled. However, it always kept you from being honest with yourself.
“Being gay is not sinful. It is not shameful, disgusting, wrong, or anything else you’ve thought before. It is
normal
to feel the way you do. You can call yourself gay without being ashamed of yourself. You can call yourself gay and be
proud
of it.”
He still doesn’t know if the method was completely called for, or completely legal as she claimed. But, he must admit, it got him thinking.
He’s always been scared to label himself. Labels follow you. They stick with you. In some cases, they define you. And he’s never wanted the preference of who he loves to define who he is. But… is it such a bad thing if it does?
Is he really wanting to risk losing Taehyung for being too afraid to face who he is? How he feels?
He plops down in his desk chair, heaving a sigh and rubbing his face. The boys may have graduated, but he still has a week left of school before summer vacation. It’s going to be so weird sitting at a lunch table with only two people again.
His eyes catch on a shirt that had been discarded on the floor near his closet. Taehyung’s shirt. He must not had seen it when he was re-packing to move back in with his dad and brother. It’s a long-sleeved white shirt, a comfortable one, one he surely must be missing. He’ll need it with him in college, won’t he? What if it gets chilly in the dorms at night?
He clenches his jaw, debating an entire three and a half seconds before pushing out his chair and snatching the shirt up, marching down the stairs.
“Honey, are you all right?” his mother asks as he purposefully strides to the front door. “What are you doing?”
He holds the shirt up like she’s missed a huge point. “He’ll need it, Mom. I bet he hasn’t slept for weeks without it.”
His mom blinks, but then a knowing, almost teasing smile alights her lips and she nods. “All right. I sure hope he hasn’t completely shut down without it, since it must have been in your room for more than weeks now.”
He makes a
duh
gesture before swinging the front door open. He’ll need the shirt. He must be looking so hard for it. This simple, plain white long-sleeved shirt. It was important to him. He’ll need it.
He runs to Taehyung’s house, a few streets down because he
has
to get there before Taehyung leaves. He has to give him the shirt. He
needs
the damned shirt.
His footfalls are heavy on the cement, and he hadn’t realized he was still wearing his pajama pants and a hoodie until he noticed he was barefoot too. It doesn’t matter, though. It’s only about a fifteen minute run and Taehyung
needs
, absolutely
needs
this shirt.
He spots Taehyung and his brother out front, loading boxes into the back of Bogum's car. Both of them are dressed and have shoes on, and Bogum notices him first in his frenzy, blinking rapidly as if he believes he’s dreaming. Taehyung pauses in the middle of lifting a box, setting it down to stand straight, lips parted as he watches Jungkook get closer.
Once at their driveway, Jungkook hunches over on his knees, panting, gasping for breath. Weakly, he holds up the shirt and stammers, “Y-you… You might… need… this.”
Taehyung is still staring at him, at a loss for words.
Bogum smirks, though he tries to hide it. “I’ll, um… give you two a few minutes,” he says, then strides up the pathway into the house.
Jungkook, still trying to catch his breath, manages to stand up straight, a hand on his hip as the other still holds out the shirt. His eyes are big, full of concern. “You must have been looking for it,” he says, like he’s returned a grand sentimental item that should have Taehyung crying with relief.
Taehyung, after a few long moments, takes a step forward. Jungkook stares at him, still holding the shirt out as Taehyung gets closer. He’s waiting for him to speak. Why won’t he speak? He needs the shirt.
“Jungkook,” the elder finally says in a soft voice. A small smile plays at his lips. “This is
your
shirt.”
Jungkook frowns, eyebrows furrowing as he looks at it. He suddenly has flashbacks of Taehyung staying over, pulling this shirt out of Jungkook’s drawer to sleep in. He kept it on most of the time, especially when they were lounging around the house during the weekends. It just looks so much better on him, Jungkook was positive it should’ve been his. It still is his.
Always.
Jungkook hasn’t lowered his arm, so Taehyung takes the shirt anyways, holding it gently against his chest. His eyes meet Jungkook’s once more, and there’s so many emotions swirling in those brown eyes that Jungkook can hardly bear it.
“You’re not wearing shoes,” Taehyung states.
“I know. B-but you needed your shirt.”
A grin brightens Taehyung’s face. Despite it being a bit hot today, he slips the long-sleeve on over the short-sleeve shirt he’s currently wearing.
“See,” Jungkook says, breathless, though he caught his breath minutes ago. “You need it.”
Jungkook swallows the lump in his throat, casting his gaze to the ground. He should turn and leave, but…
He can’t.
And then, before he realizes what’s happening, Taehyung has his arms around his neck, his nose nuzzled into Jungkook’s shoulder. Jungkook stumbles back from the force of the hug, but his arms naturally find their way around his waist, holding him so tightly against himself he’s almost afraid of breaking him. He squeezes his eyes shut, taking in Taehyung’s scent, wondering how in the hell it took them weeks to get back to this point.
“I’m sorry,” Jungkook whispers into Taehyung's hair, loosening his grip just the slightest, still not ready to let go.
“Me too.” Taehyung pulls away to press his forehead against the younger’s, his cheeks flushed. “I miss you,” he says so quietly, Jungkook nearly missed it.
After all the promises he’d made to himself, and all the reassurances about moving on and getting easier, Jungkook ignores everything he’d put into his head and closes the small space between them, his lips on Taehyung’s. The feeling is such a relief, such a weight off his shoulders, such a defining moment of
yes, this is
right
.
He relaxes in Taehyung’s arms, his own hands sliding up Taehyung's back to cup his cheeks, to deepen the kiss, to never let this happen again.
“I’m going to do better,” Jungkook promises against Taehyung’s lips, pausing for breath. “I’m going to
be
better. For you.”
A tear slips down Taehyung’s cheek just as Jungkook initiates another kiss. Taehyung runs his hands up into Jungkook’s hair, pulling away for their foreheads to lock once more. “I still have to leave,” the elder whispers.
“You’ll still be back,” Jungkook assures, gently wiping the tears from Taehyung’s cheeks with his thumbs. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Jungkook… are you sure?”
“About you?”
“About me, about us… about you.”
Jungkook traces Taehyung’s jawline, marveling at the older boy's beauty and wondering how in the hell he ever
wasn’t
sure. “About you and us… I’m positive,” he says firmly. “About me, well… I’m getting there.”
“I don’t want to ever do this again,” Taehyung says, closes his eyes. “We can’t ever go to another school dance because that seems to be when bad shit happens to us.”
The Valentine’s dance, when Jungkook came out to his mom, suffered a brief episode and forced Taehyung to face him in person, and now prom, which is surely the topper of them all.
Jungkook laughs softly. “Deal.”
Their lips meet once more just as Bogum shouts, “All right, kids, love fest over. We still have a schedule to run on.”
The two don’t part. If anything, Taehyung tugs Jungkook in closer.
“Look,” Bogum says with a sigh. “No one is making you go to college to be this show-off in the family, okay? Don’t act like you’re being forced,” he teases.
“You should go,” Jungkook whispers, albeit, he keeps stroking Taehyung’s cheeks and counting the places he wants to kiss on his face.
Taehyung, sighing, takes a small step back. “We’re going to video chat every night, got it? And I’m going to spam you with texts all day until you text me back and-and I want to wake up to your voice and--”
Jungkook kisses him one more time.
When Taehyung pulls away, he sniffles.
Bogum claps him on the shoulder. “Stop crying, you baby,” he says with a smirk, winking at Jungkook over Taehyung’s head.
Jungkook finds himself grinning.
“Maybe if you had a heart, you’d know what it feels like to leave it behind,” Taehyung teases back, slapping his brother in the chest.
“Yeah, yeah. Get in. Dad is meeting us.” Bogum places the last box in the trunk, slamming it shut before ducking into the driver’s side.
Taehyung’s eyes water as he turns. “Jungkook--”
“Shh.” Jungkook presses a kiss to his forehead, repeating, “I’m not going anywhere.”
“I love you,” Taehyung whispers.
“I love you, too,” Jungkook says, confirming his statement with a final, soft kiss on Taehyung’s lips.
Then he watches the boy he loves climb into the passenger side and disappear.
|
"Stiles? Stiles, stay with me here."--The bright lights radiated on against the darkness of the night on the lacrosse field. The crimson red color of the boys' jerseys were lit up compared to the grungy green color of the opposing team.
Beacon Hills was up 5-0 by the first quarter. Stiles ran over to Scott who was sitting on the bench when he got subbed in.
"Having fun out there?" Scott asked him in envy. He hadn't played at all in the game and hoped for coach to play him.
"So much, I really do enjoy getting my body demolished against those monsters. But I mean my adderall has got me a little bit more hyper than I prefer." A sarcastic Stiles spoke. A slight grin grew on Scott's face as he chuckled.
"They still got you on that stuff huh?" He looked around and saw his mom, Melissa, cheering with the Sheriff. There was an empty space besides them, where Malia, Lydia, and Kira would sit once they come at half time. Scott looked back at Stiles. It had been one of the first games that Stiles' father would watch entirely, being the sheriff and all, and he hoped Stiles would make him proud.
"McCall! Get out there!" Coach Finstock snarled as he watched the opposing team score two goals in a row. A tense Liam walked by and sat next to Stiles as Scott put his helmet on and went out there.
"There's one on the team." Liam whispered as he chugged down a water bottle.
"Wait, like a werewolf?" Stiles asked in a shocked tone, but he somewhat expected it.
"Yeah, number 52, big guy." Liam explained. "Don't get in his way, he'll squish you like a bug." Liam smirked as he watched the game play. The crowd cheered as Scott gained possession of the ball, and sprinted up the field. The roars of the crowd got louder with every step taken until he swung a shot and it crashed into the net. The teen could hear his mother screaming his name and he glowed on the field. Stiles smiled at Scott who was looking at him before returning to Liam.
"I'm not afraid of him," Stiles smirked, then winked at the younger boy as the coach played him in on the field.
"Stiles don't do it," Liam said as he watched Stiles tighten his helmet and ran onto the field.
The referee blew his whistle to start the game after the goal. Stiles had spotted number 52, the werewolf, in front of his eyes. He seemed to have his attention all on Stiles. The teenager looked to be about 6'3". His arms were bulky with muscles with made Stiles feel very small. The referee blew his whistle loudly and the game continued. The ball got to Scott, who passed it to Greenberg. Greenberg immediately lost all contact with the ball and it flung away from him.
The ball rolled up to Stiles who looked down to scoop it up with his stick.
"Stilinski! Run with the ball you idiot!" The coach yelled at him from the sidelines. So he started dashing across the field, the wind blowing his long hair into his face. His vision was stuck to the ground as he kept his head low, not looking at the trouble ahead.
The crowd roared loudly as he got near the goal. In front of him, stood number 52 tall and proud. Stiles didn't notice the large teenager running at him in full speed.
"Stiles! Watch out!" Liam screamed from the sidelines and Scott mimicked him on the field.
Stiles was twisting the stick in his hand when he picked up his speed even further. The opponent crossed his stick and sprinted at Stiles, pressing his stick forcefully against his chest.
A loud, painful groan came from the small human. Stiles' body flung backwards from the force and crashed onto the turf. His head was slammed when his body made a frightening thud on the harsh field. The crowd went dead silent until the referee blew his whistle continuously. Liam immediately dashed down there with the coach. "Give him some room!" Finstock yelled at the other teenagers and then gave a glare to Scott. Stiles laid there on the ground, shaking his head around frantically and became dazed. His fingers curled as it laid on the artificial grass.
"Stiles!" Scott immediately ran to his best friend, kneeling down next to him as he tried to listen in to his heart beat.
"Oh my god.." Melissa whispered, looking at the horror on Sheriff Stilinski's face. The nurse immediately ran with the sheriff over to the scene.
The sheriff backed the teenagers up to give his injured son room. Melissa carefully kneeled down besides him. "Stiles, hey can you hear me?" Melissa flicked his long hair back when it stuck to his forehead through the helmet.
Stiles' longer fingers started twitching, as if they were cramping up. It started with his arms first as they trashed violently. Soon, it was like hundreds of volts of electricity were being sent through his body. His legs jerked back and forth and his arms lunged when his body convulsed. Moans and whimpers escaped Stiles' mouth as he looked around frantically. He vision was blurred with tear streaks rolling down his face. His chest rose up and down in a quick fashion as he panted for a breath.
"Where does it hurt, what hurts Stiles!?" Scott says in frustration. He feels awful about not being able to extract the pain because of everyone standing there watching them.
"I-I don't know, I d-don't know" Stiles pants in between. His face turned red and was exasperated. His hands turned into clenched fists as he tried to control himself. The convulsions became more violent as he hit his head against the ground once again, causing him to cry out in pure agony.
"Nobody else touch him!" Melissa and the sheriff roll him onto his side. Sheriff Stilisnki takes off his jacket and rolls it up and places it underneath his head to protect it. Liam was counting how long the seizure was by seconds."51..52..53" He noticed the sheriff get very tense and worried for his only child. Melissa reached out for his hands as she couldn't do anything to ease Stiles. Stiles tried everything in his will power to control himself, embarrassed of what is happening. He felt like there was cotton stuck in his mouth and he was gasping for air, like he was suffocating. A headache rang through his head and Stiles found himself drooling on his side. His muscles stiffened while arching his back and he felt drastically distant from the world.
"Stiles? Can you hear us?" Melissa asked once again, soothing her fingers against his father's hands to calm him down.
It's been 2 minutes since his convulsions started. Stiles feels like he's having a panic attack, like his lungs are shrinking in his ribcage. The muscles in his body contract and he starts hyperventilating. He feels like he can't breathe. Painful whimpers escaped his mouth.
"26... 27... 28.." Liam is still counting. Scott is in pain just looking at his injured best friend.
"I-I can't.." Stiles gasps in the middle of his thoughts, the violent trashing of his limbs start to die down. "I can't breathe.." He rushed. Stiles forced his arms and legs to stay still, and the seizure had seemed to come to an end.
Melissa frantically tried to keep Stiles aware. His eyes fluttered and he looked incredibly tired and was still panting. He couldn't find the air to breath it seemed like as he slowly closed his eyes, his heart beat becoming fainter.
"D-dad I can't.." Stiles choked at his own words.
"Mom! What the hell is happening!?" Scott yelled, confused at why Stiles is like this.
Melissa called out to him. She put her ear on his chest to hear only faint heart beats. The nurse continues to pull off his helmet now that he had stopped seizing."He's barely breathing, we need to get an ambulance." Melissa explained to her son as the sheriff dialed for one. The older man looked incredibly tired, sorry sad creases forming at his eyes when he heard Stiles wince. "Stiles? stay with me here.Stiles." |
One minute he was asleep, and the next he found himself on the floor, a foot planted on his back to keep him down. Ed wiggled, of course, but his arm was underneath his body and he couldn’t very well seem to get the weight off of him long enough to pull it free. Damn only having one arm right now.
There had been no alarm bells going off in his head, and he was very good at sensing things in the dark now. He wasn’t a heavy sleeper. This made everything about ten times worse because he should have sensed someone was there.
The person jerked forward, two dark limbs shooting out on either side of his head to wrap something around his throat. He gagged, feeling a thick wire tug, and tried to call to Mustang. But he had no idea how long he’d been asleep; the other man was probably fast asleep in his own bedroom. He tried again, but nothing came out; the wire was very quickly cutting off his air.
He twisted, tried to get the person’s foot off of his body, and whoever it was momentarily lost their grip on the wire. He dragged in a breath and yelled out, “Mustang!”
Pain sliced out along his neck as his assailant reaffirmed their grip and yanked viciously. They were trying to kill him for sure, not just warn him. Great. Why couldn’t it ever be a warning?
He coughed and hacked against the tight pressure in his throat, finally managing to worm his arm out from under him. Not that it did much good; now he couldn’t twist around to grab at the foot on his back. And what a large foot it seemed to be, which made it even more frustrating, but Ed’s shoulder was not fucking double-jointed and there was only so far he could reach.
He struggled, again, more, and the wire slipped but just pressed into a different part of his neck. It was dark in the room, but he could already tell his vision was going hazy; where the hell was Mustang?!
He growled out sharply, about the only noise he could muster, and was rewarded with a quick gasp. For the first time he noticed that even though the movements were quick and precise, and their grip kept tightening, something about this person seemed . . . hesitant.
He used that to his advantage, twisting his body again with whatever vestiges of strength he had left in him. The wire slipped again, and he took the opportunity to suck in a huge, loud breath.
“Fuc—” he started as the wire tightened again, “Roy!”
That time, fucking finally, he heard the loud thump from upstairs that signaled the older man’s awareness. His assailant heard it too, and violently jerked away from him. He tried once, briefly, to reach out and grab at them, but missed, and in the next moment he was curling inward on himself, hacking and throwing up the delicious stew they’d had for dinner.
The window shattered outwards, rebound glass flying into the room, and then the lights flooded on. He heard Roy run past him towards the window, heard the loud, decisive snap, but there was no rewarding scream.
Whoever it was, they’d already gotten away.
Damn it.
===
“It astounds me,” Roy told Ed as he scrubbed insistently at his precious carpeted study floor (sorry not sorry), “how you can’t even make it one day in Central without someone coming after your throat. Quite literally. Just how many people did you piss off before you died?”
Ed glowered at the man on the floor from where he had moved to the couch, but he didn’t bother to answer back (it wasn’t the point). Besides, he was too busy nursing his motherfucking mass of bruised throat he’d recently acquired. Honestly it felt like Mustang had shoved one fabric-covered hand far down into his mouth and decided to snap. And contrary to what the royal bastard was saying, no one had gone for his actual throat in years, thank you very much, and never with a piece of fucking wire. That was some next level shit right there. Even he had no idea what to make of that stunt. Angrily, he drained another glass of blissfully cooling water, letting its chill brush away a bit of the flame still flickering inside.
“I don’t get it,” Mustang mused out loud as he sat back, the floor relatively clean once more. “There’s only one break-in point in the room, but the glass shattered when your attacker ran off. So how did they get in?”
“Beats me,” Ed muttered, and then winced; talking felt like pulling a piece of very spiky barbed wire up his throat and against his vocal cords. “Wasn’t even aware someone was in the room until I woke up on the fucking floor.”
“They definitely didn’t come through the front door. I have an array that goes off if anyone tries to force the door open, but nothing was set off.”
The implications of that meant someone might have a key to Mustang’s house. And Ed had a feeling Mustang didn’t exactly give those out lightly. So yeah, that was weird . . . weirder was the fact that Mustang had defense mechanisms for the house and whoever the hell had attacked him had come in likely knowing this. It meant that this person was a man—or woman—on a mission.
It also unfortunately meant that this wasn’t going to be the first time they tried something like this, because they must have definitely wanted him dead to be so obvious about it. He groaned in annoyance; thinking too hard hurt right now, seriously. He went for another drink of water only to find with a scowl that the glass was empty.
Roy stood from the floor and came to sit beside him. He reached over top of Ed, plucking the phone from its cradle. At that point Ed realized for the first time since his violent wake-up call that his brother had never phoned again. It was early morning in Amestris now, and even though he knew there had to be some sort of a time difference, it was still . . . worrying.
“Riza?” Roy was saying into the phone receiver. “I—yes, I know what time it is.” He cleared his throat. “Lieutenant Colonel, I need you to gather the team and get to my house. There has been an attack, and an assailant is on the loose at this current time. Yes . . . now. Thank you, Riza.”
“Al never called.”
“I noticed.” The phone was placed back on the hook. “Perhaps he’s instead making haste to come and see you. There’s also a possibility he’s asleep and planned to call you when he woke up. I understand Xing is approximately five hours ahead of us.” Roy shifted on the couch, his dark eyes now level with Ed’s own. “Let me see.”
“You already looked,” he answered defensively.
“Unless you’d like a trip to the hospital . . .”
Ed quickly lifted his head.
Surprisingly, Roy’s hands were gentle against his skin as they probed the tender flesh of Ed’s neck. He bit his lip, feeling awkward, and glanced off to the side as the Flame checked him over more thoroughly than he had earlier. They were far too close for comfort. Or maybe it was the fact that their closeness felt comfortable that made it weird? Roy smelled like smoke and the shampoo he always used on his hair, and how was there any possible way he couldn’t react to that? Roy Mustang was far, far too attractive for his own good.
It wasn’t even remotely fair.
“They didn’t just wrap and pull,” Mustang murmured eventually, his voice tight with concern now. Ed seriously hoped he wouldn’t decide to ship him off to the hospital anyway. He’d had more than enough of those in his lifetime, thank you very much. “It looks like they kept losing their grip and then readjusting it.”
“You know me,” he managed to snort, “wouldn’t let them get me that easily. Plus they . . . didn’t seem to have a good grip on it in the first place. Fucking lousy assassin if you ask me. Not that I’m complaining.” Mustang’s thumb brushed against one particularly nasty area just above his Adam’s apple; he couldn’t hold back the visible flinch of pain.
“I’ll be right back,” Roy announced shortly, rising fluidly from the couch to leave Ed alone for a moment.
For the first thirty seconds, he just sat still, staring at the doorway the other man had just disappeared into. Then he slowly pulled his legs up onto the couch, wrapping his one arm around them protectively. He didn’t want to admit to anyone, especially himself, how much the encounter had scared him. It wasn’t like it was the first time he’d been jumped in his sleep. It wasn’t even the worst he’d been hurt when it had happened. But the years inside the Gate made him different. Inside. He got scared of things like he was five again, experiencing his first alchemic rebound.
He thought he’d been through hell when he tried to bring their mother back to life. He thought he’d been through hell when fucking Kimblee blew up the mineshaft and he found a rusty metal beam spearing his side. But this was an entirely different kind of hell.
“I brought bandages,” Mustang announced quietly as he returned, holding up the thick fabric. “At least your skin isn’t broken, or it might have been even worse. Stay out of the office for the day. If you show up I will just send you back to the house, you got that?”
“Mustang.”
The Flame Alchemist paused in front of the couch and studied him quietly, probably just then figuring out that something was a little off in the room. Then his gaze lifted solidly to meet Ed’s, and the expression on Roy’s face made him want to clam up again so badly.
But he didn’t.
“In Ishval. Or . . . well, after. How did you . . .?”
“React to situations like this one?”
Ed nodded, his mouth suddenly even more dry. He wished he had refilled his glass of water so he could do something that didn’t involve staring at his gleaming metal foot like he’d just realized it was there.
The couch dipped again with Roy’s weight. “Lift your head.”
He did, now taking a sudden interest in the ceiling instead. Mustang gingerly began to wrap the stark white bandages around the mass of aching bruises.
“Did I ever tell you,” Roy said conversationally, “that for a short stint, I indulged a little too much in my whiskey?”
“Never pegged you for liking the booze.” Ed flinched and pulled his arm up in an automatic defensive movement; some of his hair had been caught within the bandages.
But Roy just hesitated slightly before reaching back, his fingers warm and gentle as he rescued the thick strands from the confines of white linen. “Well, I was for a while,” he answered softly. “And I never would have come out of it so quickly if it weren’t for Maes. But yes, Edward. For a small time, the only thing I found to help me cope was losing my inhibitions.”
Ed swallowed thinly; he didn’t like the implications of that. Mustang had always been strong and confident; imagining him drunk all the time was weird and a little nerve wracking. Dealing with something like alcohol to take care of the way he was . . . it would always be remembered, for his entire lifetime, and he could see that happening to him. He could see trying to take the edge off with a drink. If it got too bad. “So then, how . . .”
“There is a reason Maes was my best friend in spite of his obnoxious obsession with his family,” Mustang replied with a smile, fastening the clip to keep the bandages securely in place. “He pulled me back up onto my feet and gave me a goal to fight for, and promised to support me along the way. He gave me someone I could trust and count on whenever I needed it. That’s why I think you should suck up whatever insecurities you have and let Alphonse come to Central. He is just the sort of distraction you need. He is that person that you trust enough to leave your life with.”
Before Ed could smack his impulsive brain with a theoretical hand, he blurted out, “I trust you too, though. Maybe . . . Maybe even as much as Al.”
The look of surprise on Mustang’s face was enough to make Ed instantly regret his words, but at this point he had no choice but to forge forward. After all, one who digs a hole ought to lay in it . . .
“Oh? I thought I was just a lousy bastard.”
“Fuck, Mustang, that hasn’t been an insult in years. You should know that. If you were an actual bastard I wouldn’t have mooched money off of you that one time. Well, no, I would’ve taken it but not given any money back.”
“Money you still owe me back, by the way.”
“I don’t owe you shit until you become the Fuhrer.”
“Ah, that was the agreement, wasn’t it?”
Ed realized, suddenly and embarrassingly, that neither of them had moved away from one another after Roy had finished with the bandages. Their faces were dangerously close together at this point as they talked. What the hell was he even doing? Mustang was his C.O. for one, and then there was the fucking obvious fact that he wasn’t fucking attracted to . . . except. Except he was. He was, and he shouldn’t have been, but he wanted . . . no, he needed that distraction they were talking about. And whether it came from trust, or support, or who the fuck knew what else, Mustang was the one here for him right now. Plus, he’d have to be blind to have not noticed the bastard’s wandering eyes, and the desperate relief he’d shown on his face when Ed had first opened his eyes after the Gate spat him back out. He shifted awkwardly on the couch, his gaze trained on the tempting lips currently presented to him. He couldn’t be doing what he was about to do.
“I—”
The sudden loud, rhythmic knocking that sounded at the front door saved him before he could say anything he would later regret. Both he and Mustang jerked away from each other, and a sudden awkward taste permeated the air. Ed coughed, righted himself, and grabbed his empty glass of water to find something, anything to distract himself with.
Luckily, in spite of the very early hour, Riza Hawkeye went about business as usual and started to lay into Roy.
“Sir,” Ed heard her say calmly, “your front door was unlocked.”
Oh.
Huh.
He stopped abruptly, the faucet water flowing over the top of his cup and down over his hand. Mustang had said he had an array that would have gone off if anyone forced their way into the house. He wouldn’t have checked the array without locking the door. But there were no signs of anyone breaking in. If the door was unlocked, that was how they had come in. But they couldn’t . . .
There were no signs.
He dropped the cup into the sink, thirst forgotten in his haste to get to the front door. Unceremoniously he shoved past one very startled, bedraggled Havoc to kneel at the doorknob. “Ed?” Roy questioned in surprise, but he ignored the General; he frowned, his fingers hovering just above the elaborate circle carved into the wood. He didn’t dare actually touch the circle; some arrays like the one Roy used reactivated whenever it was touched, rather than only working once. The small addition in the corner said that it was a rechargeable array. Rather, he was searching for the heartbeat breathing of light that always emanated from an array-in-waiting.
“How does this work?” he asked finally. “I want the details, not just an overview.” Because he knew, obviously, but he wanted Mustang’s team to understand it too.
Roy cleared his throat and stepped across to join Ed next to the door. “I reset it every night before I go to bed. If anyone enters after I’ve activated it for the night—specifically from the outside because it won’t go off if I open the door to let someone inside—an alarm system will sound and the floorboards will rise up to grab them so they can’t move.”
“To clarify, does the door have to be forced open? Or does it go off for anyone who tries to get in, even if the door itself is unlocked?”
“It will go off for anyone if it’s opened from the outside.”
Ed nodded and looked over at Hawkeye pointedly. “So even if the door was unlocked, Mustang’s array would go off if someone had come inside as long as it was activated.”
He turned, stepped outside, and closed the front door. Without so much as a second’s pause, he pushed it back open, stepping in while Roy hastily backed away when he realized what Ed was about to demonstrate.
It wasn’t an alarm system so much as a chart of sharp alchemical vibrations throughout the house. It wouldn’t make any actual noises. Ed felt them at the same time as hands rose up from the hardwood floor, grasping at him. Roy clearly felt it, judging by the distorted look on his face. The others simply looked around in confusion, wondering if it hadn’t worked.
“The alarms . . .” Falman started to say.
“They went off.” Ed glanced between Hawkeye and Mustang, his heart beating a panicked pulse. “If the door is unlocked, then that was the point of entry. But the intruder wasn’t . . .”
“They bypassed the alchemy entirely without setting the array off. Their body wasn’t detected,” Mustang realized.
Ed nodded. “And they knew that before they ever came in.”
The array had never gone off when the intruder came inside. Ed had been the one to set it off just now, so it had never even been triggered in the first place. It left two options: either Mustang had actually left the door unlocked and their person of interest found a different entrance . . . or they were dealing with something beyond even Ed’s expertise.
Well, shit.
“Havoc, Breda, check all the rooms and the windows, make sure we aren’t making up any false theories. Ed, couch, now.”
“But I—”
“You look pretty shaky, Boss,” Havoc pointed out.
“Perhaps we should reconvene in the General’s study after we have investigated more thoroughly?” Hawkeye tactfully suggested. “Edward should be included in this investigation, provided he does eventually decide to take care of himself . . .”
A gun clicked in the room, and Ed reluctantly decided that maybe he should go sit down for a while.
A more thorough investigation did not lead to any other spots the assailant could have gotten into, which meant that their very frightening theory was correct now. Ed glared at the floor from his spot on the couch he’d been confined to; admittedly, now that the shock from the situation had worn off, he felt pretty much like shit. He had retrieved his glass of water and was nursing it now, suddenly unwilling to get up.
Al still hadn’t called. He didn’t know whether he was annoyed or concerned.
“Ed,” Roy said quietly, sitting down next to him. The other team members filed in, taking seats on the floor. “What happened, exactly? What do you remember? Anything weird.”
“One thing,” he answered, lips pursed down again. “They whispered something really weird before you came barreling downstairs like a fucking madman—good job, by the way, sleeping through me calling you. Fucker.”
“I’m sorry, your voice was just so small that I couldn’t hear it.”
“Fuck you.”
“Anyway,” Hawkeye sighed.
Ed coughed, took a long drink of water, and said, “They whispered something. Something most assassins don’t say I’d think.”
“And that was?”
“. . . I’m sorry.”
He was pretty sure the temperature dropped ten degrees in the room. Well, for the most part.
“That isn’t unusual,” Breda commented with a casual shrug. “They were probably hired by somebody. Or being controlled by alchemy.”
“Alchemy doesn’t work that way,” Ed scoffed in reply.
“The thing that makes it unusual,” Mustang interjected intently, “is that the assassin wasn’t altogether sure of what they were doing. They had to keep readjusting their grip on the wire they were using. Ed’s neck isn’t just one clean bruise.”
“Was kinda like they were fighting with themselves, only the meaner half kept winnin’.”
“So you think this has something to do with the Gate.”
Ed turned quickly to face Hawkeye. The Lieutenant Colonel had made her way over to the shattered window while everyone else was talking. Her gun was holstered, so there was no threat any longer, but it was very clear that she was not happy with the situation at hand.
He could only be honest and nod. “The only explanation for someone breaking into a house sealed with alchemy is that whoever it is has some connection to the Gate. Kind of like how Father could nullify western alchemy with the philosopher stones under Central.”
“God,” Falman whispered into the suddenly silent room. “Just what are we dealing with?”
“Probably hell. Again.” Ed shrugged, and then winced. Naturally he’d forgotten about his screwed-over shoulder when he was presented with a more serious situation and quite frankly a cooler injury.
“Regardless of what we may be faced with in the future, the fact remains that at this moment, one of the very few people that may have known where Edward was tonight has a vendetta to kill him. They will likely try again.” Hawkeye’s keen stare in his direction was a silent demand for him to actually follow their orders this time around. Damn, he knew he had a penchant for going against them, but . . . he scowled, but not complying meant an extra hole would be very efficiently knocked into his body. He really did not need that on top of all of his other problems. No fucking thank you. “I suggest a guard stationed within the house until we catch the culprit, as well as a bodyguard detail throughout the day.” He withered a little under her glare until it softened, just as quickly as it had hardened. “Get some rest, Edward. You’ve had a busy first day back on the team.”
“Yeah, Boss, and you’d probably keep going til you keeled over unless someone made you sleep. Or put a sleeping pill in your water.”
He leveled a nasty stare at Havoc, not at all impressed with the other’s attempt at lightheartedness after Hawkeye’s strangely gentle demand. He wondered who would protest if he took some ideas from his would-be assassin . . .
“Ed,” Mustang murmured tentatively, “why don’t you sleep with—”
“I’m perfectly fucking fine right here, thanks.”
Because, oh God, if he’d seriously been about to suggest they share a room, purely for safety reasons, or worse, a bed . . . he wasn’t sure he could hide any bodily reactions like that. Damn Mustang’s attractive form. He slumped down pointedly on the couch, made himself well and comfortable (he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t a nice couch), and shut his eyes. He’d rest, alright, but nowhere near Mustang. Breathing out through his nose once, he crossed his arm over the top of his chest.
And then the phone rang.
Naturally.
“Holy shit,” he swore colorfully as he jerked upright and scrambled for the receiver. “The whole damn world is out to get me today.”
“Maybe one of us should . . .”
“No,” Roy quickly intervened, “he’s been waiting for a call all night. Chances are, it’s Alphonse on the other line.”
Damn Mustang for sticking up for him. He was being way too nice for his own good, and he couldn’t help feeling anything but major suspicion. Ed scowled at the man and otherwise pretended not to notice as he eagerly held the phone up to his ear. “Hello? Al?”
The voice that answered him sounded far more exhausted than it should have, especially considering Ed had just talked to him hours ago and he’d sounded fine. It made his heart seize in fear; they hadn’t . . . “Brother? I . . . didn’t wake you up, did I?”
“No, Al, ‘course not. What’s wrong?” He hardly dared to ask. “You sound like something happened.”
“There’s something . . . are you okay? Um, like the Gate didn’t bring you back from the dead, right? You remember the Gate? You were really alive the entire time?”
Although worded differently, Ed had heard something like this earlier that same day. From Mustang himself, no less. He realized in an instant what had happened. The Gate. What the hell . . . and who? “I swear, Al, the Gate said it needs me to help fix something. I swear I’ve been inside it this entire time.” Quieter, he asked, “Who is it? Who suddenly came back to life?”
“How did you—”
“Nina, Al.” He swallowed thickly. “Nina was found this morning. Looking for her dad. Whole.”
And because Nina had been so important to them, to why they had been able to keep going and why they recognized their weaknesses, of course Al would start crying again.
“Hey,” he breathed hurriedly, squeezing the phone more tightly to his ear. “Hey, Al, come on, stop crying. You shouldn’t have any damn tears left at this point.”
“I-I know, it’s just. Nina, Brother. Ni . . . it can’t. It can’t be right, but it feels like a miracle too.”
“It’s not right, Al. And I don’t know what is going to happen to her if we try to set this right. But this um . . . well, whoever the hell it is, they don’t have good intentions. They are doing this to build down our defenses. They are targeting us. Or. Me.”
“We don’t know that for sure,” Mustang said beside him.
Ed made a rough sound and pointed very obviously to the bandages around his neck. Not for sure, his ass. He was pretty damn sure at this point, especially if the Gate was being tampered with. Everyone knew that he knew the Gate better than any other human who walked Amestris.
“Old man Fu,” Alphonse finally supplied, drawing Ed’s attention back to the phone almost immediately. “He wandered into the palace not long after we got off the phone, acting like he just woke up from a nap. He didn’t even remember dying. He just said the last thing he remembered was the Homunculus winning.”
Fu? Ed thought they were bringing back people that might have meant something to him, but honestly he hadn’t known Fu all that well, save that he’d been extremely faithful to Ling. He respected the man, sure, but that didn’t mean he knew him.
Which meant it wasn’t relationships, it was connections in general. Anyone this mysterious villain thought might get under Ed’s skin.
So who knew who else it was planning to bring back?
Ed swallowed, winced at the dryness in his throat, and answered his little brother. “I know I said I didn’t want you here.”
“I know that, but you can’t stop me. Especially not at this point. And we’re bringing Fu with us. Just in case. Ling’s already given him permission.”
“I was going to say,” Ed cut in, “that I lied and I want you here now. I wanted to keep you out of this shit. But I need your help. You were always just as good at alchemy as I was.”
“Was?”
“. . . Eh. I may have picked up a trick or two.”
Alphonse sniffed and laughed. “You’ll have to show me. Usually when you say that I’ve been left in the dust again. I don’t know when we’ll get there, Brother. We’ll have to cross through Xerxes, which could take a few weeks.”
No one knew what could happen in the space of a few weeks, but even Ed’s advanced alchemy couldn’t get Al here any faster than that. “Okay,” he answered finally. “We have a different problem to deal with, anyway.”
“Is that why you sound all hoarse now?”
“Fuck you and being perceptive.”
“It’s in my job description. What happened?”
He squared his jaw. “Nothing.”
“We had an assassination attempt on Edward,” Roy spoke over him to the phone. Any hope that Al hadn’t heard him went out the door as soon as he heard his brother’s sharp intake of breath.
“What the hell did they do?” Al demanded.
Alphonse cursing meant whoever did this was going to get their ass beat to a pulp, and Ed almost wished that could happen right here, right now. Al really hadn’t changed all that much in three years, even aside from being in an actual flesh-and-blood body now.
“They uh . . . had a wire?” Ed answered awkwardly.
“May, we’re leaving now!” Alphonse hollered off to the side. “Something big is happening and the more time we waste sucking up to Ling the more time the assassin has to get to Ed again. Wha . . . no, I am not going to leave his ass to wait!”
“Al,” Ed tried, even if he was sure it was futile. “We have it under control, really. The whole team is here and I think they’re just planning to camp out . . .”
“Don’t care. I’ll call you before we leave the border of Xing, Brother. Stay put. I know how you are. I really want to see you alive again before some damn killer comes around and gets you for me.” Artfully he added, “Killing you is a pleasure a brother only should have.”
“I haven’t warranted you killing me.”
“Wanna bet?”
And then the line clicked and Ed frowned into the silent receiver, wondering what the hell he had done to piss Al off when he’d only been back in his little brother’s life for the span of six hours or so. Go figure.
“What . . .”
“Going to sleep,” he answered vehemently, and flopped back onto the couch again. He’d talk to them about it later. After he’d gotten some sleep because, alright, so what, he was a little tired. Just a little. And they’d kind of been overloaded with a shit ton of information at that point anyway. They probably all needed a good fucking rest.
***
When he next opened his eyes, it was morning, his throat was dry as the damn Xingese desert, and Havoc’s fat ass (not really) was positioned just so for his viewing pleasure.
“Fuck,” he groaned when he sat up, raising his hand to feel through some horrendously tangled hair, “You could at least stand in a different direction. Not exactly what I want to wake up to in the morning. What are you doin’ here anyway?”
“Mustang’s orders,” Jean answered, looking over his shoulder to grin apologetically. “He didn’t want you deciding to come to work today. Wanted to make sure you stayed in to rest.”
“Fucker,” he muttered, because apparently, that was the only word he could coherently come up with at any point in the morning before he’d had some coffee.
He dropped his hand from his hair to feel gingerly at the bandages around his neck. Injuries always hurt about twice as bad the morning after . . . kind of like the soreness after a night of sex, really. And this was no exception. His throat felt fucking awful. On the other hand, it appeared Roy’s suggestion that he keep his damn leg raised and relaxed worked; his port wasn’t aching nearly as badly as it had for the past few days. Well, that was one small blessing, he supposed.
“Helping myself to his shit,” he announced and rose to his feet, stumbling his way to where he remembered the kitchen to be.
Mustang, he quickly found out, did not eat from home often. All he could find were some eggs which had a questionable expiration date, a moldy loaf of bread, and blissfully, some bacon. Ed quickly popped the eggs and bacon into a fryer, then started a pot of coffee, hoping its heat would take away some of the ache in his throat now. If there was one thing the General did have in his house, it was coffee. Lots of it. There. He found one thing in common with the bastard.
Armed with his coffee, and relatively satisfied about his meal (he still wasn’t sure about the eggs), he avoided Havoc and went upstairs to find the bathroom. Surely Mustang wouldn’t mind if he used his shower; besides, between riding the train and then arriving at Central, he couldn’t actually remember the last time he’d washed off. He was a bit amazed no one had commented yet.
The first door he slipped into turned out to be an empty guest room, the one Mustang had mentioned briefly when he’d offered for Ed to stay here. Honestly, he was thinking about taking him up on it . . . so long as the fucking bastard didn’t try anything. He knew he would. He had a feeling. And he didn’t know what the hell he would do if he did try something. Last night he’d almost . . . he’d almost . . .
No. He shook his head violently and shut the door, moving onto the next one. He was not going to think about what he had almost done the night before. He’d almost kissed him, that was what, and why would he ever do something that gross? That wasn’t . . . to say that it would necessarily be gross. Because now that he thought about it, it probably would have been great. Oh, hell.
It had taken a long time coming.
But he couldn’t deny it any longer, no matter how much he tried.
He was attracted to Roy fucking Mustang.
The next room he went into made him stop short, peering inside with a sort of morbid curiosity he couldn’t swallow down along with his coffee. Rumpled sheets, a few clothes strewn about the floor, the overwhelming scent of whatever it was he smelled like. This was Mustang’s room.
He probably should have shut the door and kept looking for the bathroom.
But what was the fun in that?
Gleefully he set his mug of coffee down on the top of the dresser and started to snoop. What sort of things did Mustang hide in this room? What sort of magical mysteries did it hold? Maybe he’d even find some sort of alchemy book relating to how he used flame . . . not that he’d use it. He knew Mustang and Hawkeye both did not want anyone else to be able to utilize it again. But still. He was curious.
He didn’t pry into any closed drawers. There were some things he didn’t want people finding out about him, and they were always closed away. So he’d respect that in Mustang as well. He might have been an ass all the time, but he wasn’t heartless or anything stupid like that. Actually, Al liked to comment that he had more heart than he wanted anyone else to believe.
Which was probably true.
Something clattered to the floor as he skimmed his fingers across the bedside table; when he bent down to pick it up, he found that it was just a small screw. “What the hell,” he murmured, placing it back on the table. What an odd thing to keep by his bed.
But then he got a second look at it.
He had never pinned Mustang for being a sentimental type, not at all, but as he looked down at the screw, he remembered once again the other man’s reaction when he’d finally opened his eyes in Amestris again for the first time in three years. He remembered the absolute relief and joy on his face before the light had gotten too bright.
He remembered thinking that Mustang looked far older than he used to, and that he thought it must have been a long time since he’d been back.
But that wasn’t right.
It wasn’t age.
It was grief.
He reached down, touched the small automail screw, and pursed his lips into a frown.
Okay, maybe it was finally time to stop calling him a bastard, because he definitely was not one any longer.
. . . Nah. |
“Sign here.”
Jungkook scribbles his initials onto the paper.
“And here.”
He scribbles again, this time, further down the page.
“Here too.”
“How many times do I need to write it? Surely once is enough,” Jungkook grumbles as he repeats his initials that are starting to not look like his own anymore.
“You don’t have proper identification yet, so I’m afraid you’re going to be doing this a lot – okay now time for your thumbprint,” Yoongi says as he puts an inkpad beside the paperwork Jungkook has been filling in.
“This feels like overkill,” Jungkook continues, his thumb at Yoongi’s mercy as he presses it into the ink and then presses it against the paper to leave behind the mark.
“The north is paperwork hell, not a lot of mainland technology has made it up here, so card IDs, signatures, thumbprints, they’re all we have,” Yoongi explains as he lets go of Jungkook’s thumb.
“Okay, this will do for our records. We still need to get you officially registered, but Jimin will need to take you to the mainland to get that ball rolling,” Yoongi says as he collects the paper from in front of Jungkook.
The mainland.
When the time comes for him to become an official member of society, he’s going to be seeing more than just the manor and the town. He’s going to be able to see it for himself, how the island looks from the other side of the bridge, how a city looks.
Jungkook has seen them on the TV, the buildings are practically in the sky because they’re so tall.
Tall and daunting, and crammed with so many people on its streets, the hundreds of cars packed onto the roads, Jungkook always becomes anxious from merely watching.
It’s one of the main reasons why he said no to leaving the north, and yes to moving into the town.
He’ll always have a room at the manor, Yoongi and Jimin had assured him of that, but Jungkook needed to leave.
He needs his own space, a clean start to this new life of his.
But, more than that, he needs space from Yoongi and Jimin.
The vampires are good people, they do so much good and get so little in return.
It’s why….It’s why Jungkook needs to leave.
He would only bring trouble to their door.
The air between him and Yoongi becomes awkward, but no longer uncomfortable like it had been at the very start.
Taehyung has been helping him find books that help Jungkook understand his connection to Yoongi, and it made him realise that only pure vampires that share a bloodline connection feel the bond, the kinship instinct.
“I never did say thank you, did I?” Jungkook tries to ease that gap, the awkwardness, between them as he looks around the bare, empty, space of his new home.
“You don’t need to thank us, Jungkook. It’s why we work hard, to help vampires like you find their identity, their place, in this fucked up world,” Yoongi shakes his head slightly, a small, reassuring, smile on his face as he too looks around the empty space. “Though…I wish we could’ve found you a bigger place.”
Jungkook likes it. It’s much smaller than his place back home, but it’s near enough the same size as the bedroom he was using at the manor.
One open room that acts as the living and kitchen area, and two doors that lead into a tiny bedroom and a tiny bathroom.
But, it’s his space.
His.
The elderly couple that own the third floor are letting Jungkook live here on the condition that he helps repair and maintain this room, and the other rooms they own.
He’ll earn some money for the maintenance, but it’s still a fair deal in Jungkook’s eyes.
He doesn’t need material possessions, he’s never had them, so why does he need them now?
“Taehyung is taking me around town to get some furniture later today,” Jungkook says, meeting Yoongi’s gaze again. “He’s confident that he can get me a good trade deal since he has moved around so much, so he knows how to haggle.”
“The manor is going to feel bigger now that you two are gone. Next it will be Hoseok leaving,” Yoongi sighs out as he carefully folds the paperwork into his coat pocket.
“You never know, all of those empty rooms could be filled before you know it. The communities are running out of time, there is only so much space within those metal fences, after all,” Jungkook murmurs, because it is true, he could see it begin to affect his old home – reusing old wood because of the risk of going beyond the fences, family sizes growing too big for the tiny houses.
Inside it, Jungkook wasn’t aware of how loud the clock was ticking.
Outside it, though, Jungkook just knows it is only a matter of time for the elders in those communities to struggle maintaining a lie.
“For our sake, I hope that happens slowly. We haven’t got enough hands to deal with that shitstorm. Oh, remember, Jungwoo’s staff will be here in an hour or so with one of the blood refrigerators for you. You can use it as a regular one, just remove the trays,” Yoongi reminds him as he moves to leave with Jungkook shadowing him to the front door.
“I would ask if you guys are sure, but the manor has fifty,” Jungkook teases lightly, making the vampire nod in agreement.
“If you need anything – anything, Jungkook – you know where to come,” Yoongi tells him, pausing over the threshold of the doorway, his gaze earnest, like his words. “You…I know we’re strangers, but you share my bloodline, and while my own family has cut ties with me for bringing shame – I know, the irony – I hope that we…that in time, me and you can build something.”
“That would be nice, Yoongi,” Jungkook answers honestly, and a little shyly. “We have time, right?”
Relief floods through the vampire, and Jungkook feels terrible for being so stiff and awkward with Yoongi when the vampire has only tried his best with Jungkook.
“Yeah, kid, we have all the time in the world.”
And long after the vampire has left, long after Jungwoo’s staff have been and gone, leaving the refrigerator that is humming in the corner of his tiny kitchen, looking so out of place because it is so sleek and shiny compared to the oldness of his new home, Jungkook marvels at how time feels now that he is on his own.
Back home, he wasn’t aware of it. The sun was his only indicator of time, the monotonous routine they all follow of waking up, going to work, and returning home before it would set.
But now, he has a clock on the wall, and the muffled sounds of so many strangers down on the street below going about their own routines, all different from each other, makes time feel so vast.
A familiar knock comes from his front door, causing Jungkook to smile as he leaves the window to answer it.
“You ready to learn how to haggle?” Taehyung greets him with a smile that floods warmth through Jungkook’s chest.
“I know a thing or two, we’ll see who grabs the best bargain,” Jungkook teases as he locks his front door.
“How are you feeling, being in there on your own?” Taehyung asks him as they walk down the staircase, passing by the other floors of residences.
“The building is noisy, so it’s just like being back at the manor, honestly. The only thing different is that when I want to see you, I have to go outside and see you.”
“I’m only down the street, it’ll be good exercise for you.”
“But it’s not the same as just walking in my pjs to your bedroom door,” Jungkook argues back with a laugh as the fresh, afternoon, air greets them as they leave the building.
“Okay, you’re right, the distance is a hindrance,” Taehyung says, keeping close to Jungkook to avoid the strangers walking in the other direction as them as they head down the street to whichever store Taehyung is taking him to first.
“Do you like your place?” Jungkook asks, not having seen it yet. “You could’ve had the empty room next to mine.”
“If I wasn’t a Kim, I could have. The old man made it clear that he doesn’t lease to Kim pures,” Taehyung reveals, and Jungkook instantly hates his new place, irritation filling him fast.
“Why didn’t you tell me that? I wouldn’t have moved in if I knew he was close-minded.”
“You need to build rapport with the town, and by living and repairing that floor, and its rooms, it will earn you social credits for where you next want to live,” Taehyung reasons, his tone gentle. “Me? I need to show everyone the opposite of what they have heard of me and my bloodline, and I have a chance now, because of you.”
And to prove that point further, Taehyung grabs Jungkook’s hand and swings them playfully, making Jungkook’s cheeks burn even as he laughs.
“Us outsiders winning against the prejudice of gossip, I’m ready to prove the lies wrong,” Jungkook states with confidence running through him, and Taehyung’s fond gaze just fuels Jungkook’s stubborn nature to make it come true.
For both of them.
He’s not ashamed of where he is from.
He’s not ashamed of surviving.
Jungkook is an outsider.
Back home, and here.
And that makes him different. It makes him see both worlds differently, makes him see things the majority can’t, or won’t.
But, Jungkook has a voice now.
And he’s no longer afraid to use it.
Having a job again helps Jungkook settle into his new home, his new routine.
It’s familiar, the therapeutic feeling of tearing down walls that have seen their days, only to rebuild them, making them whole again.
The changes he makes to the floor, to the rooms, as well as his own, over the passing weeks, it fills him with such a strong sense of accomplishment.
His elderly bosses are happy, and word begins to spread as a result.
“You should get paid extra, it’s because of you that the room next to yours is no longer empty,” Taehyung grouses from where he’s sitting at the dining table that Jungkook made himself with the spare wood he had from repairing the floorboards in the corridor.
“I had another letter shoved under my door, this one was enquiring how much I charge to tear down and rebuild a store’s porch,” Jungkook shares as he joins Taehyung at the table with the usual necessities for drawing Taehyung’s blood.
Jungkook alternates between Taehyung’s and the vampire blood they import from the mainland.
But, the difference between the two is vast.
Jungkook always drinks less when he drinks Taehyung’s blood, and he always feels energetic, like he could lift a building, that is how strong he feels.
“You’ll be doing no such thing, you’ve been walking around all week looking like you will faint,” Taehyung argues, that protective edge always present whenever Taehyung worries about Jungkook’s health.
Which always coincides on the days after Jungkook has had the imported vampire blood.
Taehyung knows the differences too.
“Dramatic, I have not been looking like that,” Jungkook retorts back as Taehyung holds out his arm for him to tie the elastic around it.
“Oh? Who was the one that fell asleep last night during our game of cards?”
“I had a busy day!” Jungkook laughs fondly, endeared by the vampire, like always when they bicker about this. “And you know why I ration your blood now.”
“I’m not an official nurse, all I do is clean up after patients and take blood. I’m not running around like Jimin or Namjoon, I’m just covering maternity leave. Easy, light, work,” Taehyung states the same argument he’s been using since last week when he started the job.
“Ah-ha, explain that to the bags under your eyes.”
“These bags are caused because a certain vampire won’t drink the blood he needs.”
“I’m drinking your blood tonight and tomorrow, so I expect to see those bags gone,” Jungkook teases as he cleans Taehyung’s skin and feels for a vein, the motions so familiar now that he’s already lining up the needle. “Ready?”
“Ready to kick your ass for the sass? Always,” Taehyung smiles at him when Jungkook flicks his gaze up.
Watching the blood flow into the bag, Taehyung unties the elastic, dropping it onto the table with a sigh that makes Jungkook look up again.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, just tired – no, don’t you dare stop I will kick your ass,” Taehyung warns him, his tone meaning it, no longer playful.
“You said that you weren’t tired,” Jungkook hisses, both worried and frustrated that Taehyung fibbed to him about this. “When was the last time you rested?”
“You ask like I rest without you. I only rest with you, Jungkook.”
“Maybe you need more,” Jungkook murmurs, still worried, as he looks down at the bag, checking on its level. “You always overexert yourself when you’re caring for others. You did it when you cared for me.”
“I’m fine, truly. You don’t need to worry,” Taehyung assures him softly as the tips of his fingers lightly tip-up Jungkook’s chin so that their gazes can meet again. “I’m the worrier in this relationship, remember.”
Jungkook scoffs softly at that. “It doesn’t work that way and you know it.”
“You try telling that to my instinct, go on, I’ll wait.”
Jungkook fondly rolls his eyes at the retort, and gently moves from out of Taehyung’s touch to check the bag. “Almost done. You feeling good?”
“Yes. How much do you have left of mine, anyway?” Taehyung asks him as Jungkook prepares to stop the blood as the bag reaches its fullness.
“A bag,” Jungkook admits, not really thinking the truth through, as he shuts off the valve, sealing the bag, and begins to ease the needle from Taehyung’s vein.
And hisses the other’s name in alarm when Taehyung’s hand locks on his arm, almost causing him to stab him with the needle again.
“Tae-”
“You have a bag left?” Taehyung repeats slowly, his gaze pinning Jungkook in place almost.
“I told you, I’ve been rationing-” Jungkook reminds the vampire, but Taehyung cuts him off.
“Jungkook, your body has become used to my blood, it’s why you have a healthy glow, why you’re so energetic, and why you shouldn’t ration your feeds.”
“I won’t fall into bloodlust; I know my hunger better now, you know I do,” Jungkook consoles the vampire, meaning it. “Drinking lacklustre blood won’t harm me, it’s just boring to drink.”
“You drink more of that blood because your body is so used to being sated with mine. You can make yourself sick doing that,” Taehyung vents, frustration welling up in his voice and face.
Glancing down at the blood covering the puncture wound from the needle, watching as it begins to trail down onto the surface of the wooden table, Jungkook says, “let go, I need to clean you up.”
“You’re not listening to me – confuse your body long enough and it will-”
Jungkook lifts his head up, humming softly because he can’t help vocalising his pleasure whenever he tastes Taehyung’s blood, and meets Taehyung’s stunned eyes.
“You didn’t let go and you were bleeding onto my table, do you know how hard it is to remove blood from wood?” Jungkook explains himself with heat crawling up his nape because he’s never done that before, he’s never-he always cleans Taehyung’s arm properly.
Jungkook just…acted.
Okay so, he has fantasised it plenty of times, using his finger to clean the blood from Taehyung’s skin, to lick it clean, to savour every precious drop that Taehyung gifts him.
But, fantasies are supposed to remain in your head, especially when they involve your best friend that you harbour a deep longing for.
“Sorry. That was-I-Sorry,” Jungkook rambles out, breaking free from Taehyung’s now slack grip, and hisses as his knee roughly smacks into the leg of the table in his hurry to clean away the needle and to store the blood into the refrigerator.
This is awkward.
This is more than awkward.
Jungkook doesn’t know how to salvage this.
He doesn’t know what to do when all his brain can scream at him is how different Taehyung’s blood tastes when it is warm, instead of cold.
“I’m not upset – and you still need to feed, so chop-chop, pour yourself a large glass and come back here,” Taehyung calls to him, still surprised, but not angry, or worse, disgusted.
“I just licked your blood from you, why are you being so calm about that?” Jungkook blurts out as his body does as Taehyung requests by pouring himself a glass of blood from the bag in the refrigerator and returning back to his chair.
“I mean, you had a fair point,” Taehyung says with a shrug of his shoulders as he rolls the sleeve of his sweater down again.
“I overstepped a line – sanitation wise and personal,” Jungkook continues to question the vampire’s lack of response as he holds the glass in his hands to warm it up.
“Vampires used to bite their blood sources to be able to feed, and saliva has a natural coagulant in it, so really, what you did was only natural to you.”
“Okay, but personal-”
“If I hated it, I would tell you, Jungkook,” Taehyung cuts him off gently, his smile amused, as is the little glint in his brown eyes as he continues with, “though, historically, you would’ve had to treat me to dinner first before licking up my blood.”
Jungkook is so flustered by the teasing comment that he kicks Taehyung’s shin as he drinks his blood, using it as a perfect excuse and a muzzle to his thoughts that have also fantasised about that.
About being a couple.
“See, you’re starting to glow again,” Taehyung sighs out, satisfied and a touch smug-like, as he leans back into his chair, watching Jungkook drink.
“Creep,” Jungkook huffs out affectionately, licking his lips to savour any trickle of blood, as he places the half-drained glass onto the table.
“Says the one that licked-Ow!” Taehyung cackles as he holds his shin, protecting it from Jungkook’s shoe. “See, you have the energy to be feisty again.”
“I’m not falling for that because it’s not true. You are the feisty one in this relationship.”
“Someone has to bring the passion,” Taehyung fires back mischievously, and this is starting to feel different, this playful back and forth, causing Jungkook’s heart to flutter, and those forsaken tummy butterflies to try to escape again.
“I’m passionate – I carried you on my back the other day because your feet were aching,” Jungkook reminds the other of one of many of their affectionate displays that always prompts staring and whispers to follow them.
Jungkook has had a few brave strangers approach him when he has been buying food – alone – asking about his relationship with a ‘Kim pure’, which always prompted him to say, ‘he has a name’ and would walk from them, uncaring of the fact he is being rude.
Jungkook will not pander to strangers that think they can gossip to him about the only person he deeply cares for.
“Okay, fair,” Taehyung concedes, making Jungkook laugh. “But I’m the one that reaches for your hand when we’re out walking, so you’re not off the hook.”
“I’m the one that pulls you into random hugs!”
“I’m the clingy one when we rest together!”
“You’re a bed hog, you’re clingy by default,” Jungkook laughs, feeling both giddy and flustered from this strange, almost flirty, bickering.
“A guy needs more, what can I say,” Taehyung huffs back, but his playful smile isn’t fooling Jungkook.
Jungkook knows how to read Taehyung, he’s practically fluent.
And the vampire is holding something back.
Jungkook is almost scared that he’s reading the signal wrong, that he may not be as fluent as he thinks with knowing Taehyung’s mannerisms.
“Like what?” Jungkook asks before he can overthink himself into a confused spin.
And maybe Taehyung wasn’t expecting for him to ask, to notice, which is why surprise arrives in those brown eyes.
“I was joking,” Taehyung deflects the question, and Jungkook knows he was right just by that, by the hint of nerves at the end of the word.
Taehyung has been open and honest with him ever since he returned to the manor.
But now…
“You weren’t,” Jungkook carefully keeps his tone light, not accusatory. “That whole conversation wasn’t a joke, it meant something to you, it’s why you led it into that direction.”
“Well, it must mean something to you too for you to continue it,” Taehyung easily says, but Jungkook can still hear it, the nerves.
One of them needs to say what the air between them is screaming.
There is no wall between himself and Taehyung now, there hasn’t been for weeks, but he can feel something between them, something that maybe…maybe they are both guilty of holding between each other.
And tonight was the night for that invisible wall to become solid, making them aware of each other’s discretion.
“It did mean something to me,” Jungkook hears himself admit, can hear his own nerves loud and clear, as he did with Taehyung’s.
Taehyung shifts a little on his chair, no longer holding his shin, but leaning against the table as he says, “you’re nervous.”
“So are you,” Jungkook fires back, feeling heat burn up his neck.
“Why are you nervous?”
“Why are you nervous?”
Taehyung doesn’t answer, but he does begin to fidget, both of them not even blinking at this point as the tension between them grows and grows.
Jungkook is desperate to ask, but he’s so scared that he’s reading this whole thing wrong despite what his instinct is telling him.
It’s telling him to trust it, to leap forward, and say-
“I like you.”
Jungkook’s ears are burning, but his confession is out.
And the rest of his confession flows free now that the cork has been popped.
“I never told you, but before you told me your name, I had already given you one – beautiful – and it still stands, even though you drool on my shoulder throughout your rest,” Jungkook teases fondly, not meaning it, but needing to lighten the load of baring his entire heart to the mute vampire sitting across from him.
Though, Taehyung’s muteness isn’t caused from horror.
Jungkook’s instinct had been right.
“I think I fell for you from the moment I woke up and saw you, because I don’t remember much from that period of time, but you…I remember those moments clearly,” Jungkook continues to share what he’s never shared with Taehyung before. “You stole my heart long before I even knew it was missing, and it was only when you went missing that I felt the loss of it.”
“It appears we both had more than just one revelation that week,” Taehyung murmurs softly as he reaches and links their fingers together. “I can’t say when it happened for me, only that it did, and that it made me realise that I couldn’t walk away and pretend the bond between us never existed, even if it was only friendship in your eyes.”
Jungkook shakes his head, jittery energy filling him with every thump of his beating heart as he says, “trying to only see friendship in our touches, words…I’m amazed at myself, honestly. I have almost confessed my feelings about a dozen times since your return.”
“You’re too good of an actor, I never suspected a damn thing,” Taehyung laughs, happiness and that lingering shyness radiating from his smile, and his gaze. “You’re the first person I have ever had deep feelings for, just like how you became my first friend, you became my first love.”
“First and only love,” Jungkook courageously corrects with scorching hot cheeks, feeling his own giddy smile grow as Taehyung’s does. “Sorry, I think now is a good reminder for you that I am clingy with people I love.”
“I think now is a good reminder for you that I am very protective, especially when it comes to a certain vampire that I love, and I adore it when he clings to me because it means I can protect him, always.”
“Right back at you,” Jungkook whispers, his heart kicking into his mouth, as the reality of this moment slams down onto him in a shower of excitement and wonder.
Excitement to fully explore the love they have for each other.
Wonder at their future together.
Not as a guide caring for and teaching a community reject about the world kept from him.
Not as two friends that are seen as society outcasts.
But as two vampires that bonded over a shared trauma, found trust and friendship, and fell in love.
Their painful pasts led them to this.
It’s why he and Taehyung have this bond, this protectiveness, this love, for each other.
They’re the same.
They’re different. They’re rejects.
They’re victims. They’re fighters.
They are survivors.
They have control of their lives, and they found that freedom through each other.
Trust. Friendship. Love.
Their painful pasts have led them to a loving future with each other.
There was a time where Jungkook had never been beyond the tall, metal, fencing that snakes around and around the boundary of the village he was born and raised in, leaving only the open sea at the village’s back that seemed as endless as what lied beyond the metal fencing.
There was a time where all he could see beyond the rusted, thick, metal fencing were trees, trees, and more trees.
There was a time where he had never stepped over the boundary line of the gate that is always locked and guarded, until he was shoved over it and barred from his home for breaking a rule.
A rule that was a lie to contain decades of manipulation.
Walking slowly, carefully, around the trees, Jungkook’s gaze doesn’t falter from the home he used to be caged in.
It’s strange, seeing the village from this side of the fences.
It’s strange, knowing what he knows now, and remembering his life within those fences.
He’s no longer the same Jungkook that used to live there.
No longer does he feel uncomfortable in his own skin, unable to speak his own mind in fear of upsetting his parents, neighbours, or the village’s elders.
No longer is he forced to drink a medicine that was a poison that prevented him from growing into his true skin.
No longer is he part of a sadistic experiment that abandoned the very communities it cruelly played with.
“Do you see them?” Taehyung questions, his hand supportive in the way their hands are linked between their sides.
Moving more towards his left, Jungkook traces the map he has inside his mind with each step he takes.
His vision is stronger, clearer, than it used to be, allowing him to scan each familiar face as he searches for the two faces he’s seeking for.
“Where did Jin go?” Jungkook questions, noticing the half vampire’s scent no longer being close, as he looks back the way they came.
“Patrolling. He didn’t want to draw attention, just in case,” Taehyung explains, his expression vigilant to their surroundings despite the fact they are pure vampires, and they wouldn’t draw any wendigos attention.
“We’ve been out here twice, if there were wendigos nearby, we would’ve met them then, surely.”
“Jin won’t risk it, and he knows these forests better than both of us, so we have to trust that,” Taehyung says, making Jungkook smile softly to hear his partner say it.
They’re not friends, but Taehyung has been making the effort to treat Jin similarly to how he treats Namjoon.
Asking Jin to do this, to lead them to the shoreline community, had been a risk.
But, just like Taehyung has been trying with Jin, so has Jungkook.
Though, Jin never took offence from what Jungkook said that day to him in the tailor’s shop, since he still called Jungkook, ‘little lamb’ after that whenever he would see Jungkook around town, so it ended up working in Jungkook’s favour when it came time to ask the half vampire for help.
Jungkook could only ask Jin for help. Jungkook couldn’t allow for word to reach Jimin, Yoongi, or even Hoseok.
He left the manor for this reason, after all.
Jungkook stops so suddenly that it almost makes Taehyung walk into the nearest tree because he wasn’t expecting Jungkook to stop walking.
“There. The couple standing on the back porch.” Jungkook points with his free hand in the direction he’s unable to look away from. “They’re back.”
His childhood home had been in darkness the previous times, making Jungkook suspect two reasons for such.
One, his parents were out at sea.
Two, his parents were dead.
Watching them now, even though the distance makes it hard to read their expressions, only their body language, Jungkook’s relief swims through him.
“You ready?” Taehyung asks him, and Jungkook can feel his gaze on the side of his face, the secure warmth in his hand, the safety in his scent.
Jungkook doesn’t answer, he just watches his parents.
They look tired, their postures heavy with how they lean against each other as they look out into the forest beyond the cage they’re inside.
“You can always turn back,” Taehyung reminds him gently. “This is a heavy burden, after all.”
“The lies need to end,” Jungkook murmurs, barely blinking, as he watches his father head back inside, leaving his mother.
Jungkook can only make so many excuses to Jimin to avoid going to the mainland to register his identity into society.
He’s running out of time, so even though this burden is heavy, Jungkook was the one to plan it.
The law that ‘protects’ the communities from being included into society by forbidding members of said society has one loophole that no one seems to have seen.
The law dictates that help can only be given to a member from that community if they have been excluded from it.
The law says nothing about rejects making contact with the isolated communities.
Jungkook isn’t a member of society yet.
He’s a reject.
And he’s a reject from the very community he’s staring into.
The lying needs to end.
Stepping forwards, Taehyung’s hand gently falls from his, but Jungkook can feel Taehyung’s gaze on his back as he heads through the trees.
He walks towards the metal cage he used to be trapped in, waiting for the moment to be seen.
His mother’s body language begins to change.
She begins to straighten from the tired slouch against the porch railing.
Her arm moves to shield her face from the glare of the setting sun as it pours in from over the forest, highlighting him to her.
Jungkook places his hands onto the cold, rusty, metal, and this close, he can almost smell it.
The scent of a pure vampire mingled in with the rusty scent, but he knows it isn’t just a lone scent of a pure vampire, but so many more that were killed to ensure this barrier kept out the wendigos that haunt the forests.
Jungkook watches as his mother steps down from the porch, unsteady, wary, as she comes closer to see what she sees.
But, he waits for her, his anxious heart pounding hard in his chest.
Jungkook sees the moment his mother recognises him.
She doesn’t make a sound, no screaming, no call of his name.
All she does is clasp her hands to her mouth, and her pace quickens.
Jungkook smells her tears before he sees them.
Jungkook never had a scent memory for his parents before.
Now, Jungkook wonders if the smell of the ocean will become it for them.
Slipping his hands through the fencing so that she can grab his in a desperately tight grip, his vision blurs with his own tears, feels them run warmly down his cheeks.
“Hi, ma,” Jungkook croaks out around the thick lump in his throat, holding her steady as his sobbing mother holds his hands as close to where her heart lies as she says two words and two words only.
“My baby.”
She hasn’t called him that since he was a child.
Jungkook’s sobs join his mother’s.
“How?” is what she sobs next, her eyes so full of confusion, pain, and questions.
“It’s a long story, but I needed you to see me, to know the truth.”
“The truth? Jungkook, you’re supposed to be dead,” his mother chokes on the last word, fresh tears spilling down her rosy cheeks.
“They’re lying, ma. They’re lying about so much that I can’t tell you it all right now, but I will, I just need you to do one thing for me,” Jungkook rushes out, knowing the risk of both of them lingering at the fencing, that any one of the neighbours can just see them if they were to look out of their windows or leave their homes.
“Do what? I don’t understand.”
Taking a deep breath, Jungkook stares into his mother’s eyes and says, “don’t take the medicine.”
Now his mother is truly lost, so lost, even her grip slackens on his hands, as she stares at him.
“It’s not safe for you all if I try to break into the village - these fences are the only things keeping you safe - but I can protect you and dad. I just need you both to stop taking the medicine and be kicked out.”
Jungkook doesn’t expect her to pull from him, or the pain that burns through his heart at seeing the denial all over her face.
“The medicine keeps us healthy from vampirism, we can’t-”
“The medicine is poison, ma – look at me, do I look sick or dead to you? I don’t because the medicine is a lie. Vampirism isn’t a parasite, it’s something we’re born with, it’s not something we ingest,” Jungkook desperately explains, feeling the roles reversed where he is the one trying to wipe away the layers and layers of lies and manipulation.
“Vampirism eats you from the inside out,” his mother argues back, looking at Jungkook like he’s sick as she wipes her hands on her pants as fear fills her eyes.
“I’m not sick, ma, I swear!” Jungkook calls after her as she slowly backs away from him. “I need you to believe me – there is a world outside these fences, ma. A world full of people that know all about us, but we knew nothing about them because of the twisted lies the elders maintain.”
“You…who are you? My Jungkook wouldn’t speak in that tone about the very people that have kept this village alive.”
Jungkook can’t breathe.
His chest is painfully tight.
“No, ma…they’re liars, and they’ll continue to lie because they have control here, but in the real world they won’t have anything.”
His mother shakes her head in sharp denial, the distance growing between them.
“Ma, please – I was just like you! I refused to believe too, but what I am saying is the truth!” Jungkook calls as loudly as he dares, fisting the bars tightly, unable to close that distance between them.
She begins to say something, but Jungkook sees her gaze shift from him to look over his shoulder.
Taehyung’s comforting scent and the warmth of his hand pressing against his lower back brings Jungkook comfort even as he watches his own mother scramble from them, a muffled scream almost breaking free from her if she hadn’t clasped her hands over her mouth in time to smother it.
“We’re not sick, the world is a lot bigger than this village, ma,” Jungkook tries to get through to her, one last time. “Stop taking the medicine. I’ll protect you and dad once you’re free from here.”
His mother shakes her head, her gaze, her tone, final, as she says, “no.”
The world blurs, and Jungkook no longer sees his mother run away from him but the black collar of Taehyung’s coat as his partner cradles him close, gently consoling him with soft words, as Jungkook breaks in his arms.
“You tried, and that matters, Jungkook. You tried to help. You tried.”
The smell of the ocean will no longer remind him of his parents.
It will only remind him of their fear.
Their rejection.
But, Taehyung is right.
Jungkook tried.
He tried to break them free, but Jungkook knows the pain, the distrust, that comes with being manipulated your entire life.
Jungkook was fortunate enough to find safety in Taehyung to listen, to learn, the truth.
He tried to help his parents, but….you can’t help someone who doesn’t want it.
And they may never want that help, and Jungkook will have to accept that.
Looking back at his childhood home from the cover of the forest, Jungkook wipes away the stray tears that keep falling, and tugs Taehyung’s hand away from it.
Taehyung curls his arm around him as they walk in silence, holding him close, keeping him warm as the air begins to chill.
The first time he left, he never got the chance to say goodbye.
But now he does.
He says goodbye to the home, to the life, he used to live.
Jungkook says goodbye to his past.
And he says hello to his future.
|
It's unnerving.
That's what Taehyung can definitively attest to.
In fact, if anyone looked close enough, they'd believe with certitude that he was mere seconds away from breaking down.
His hands shake with relative excitement, paired so wonderfully with all the clumsy grace of adoration and fear alike. One would venture a guess that he's about to take a huge step in his life to be so anxious, and he is...only that performance planned in his head is a day away and at the moment he's fixated on trying to get the grape out of his tupperware.
Made more embarrassing by his current state, is the idea that he may not even go through with said daydream going on in his head.
So, he chews quietly sat at his desk, the backdrop of his office melodic with the laughter of Jimin and Wheein chatting around him. He knows his brain is actively trying to pay attention, to listen like any good coworker or friend would, but he falls short in that regard. Sure, he throws in that courteous laugh now and then but the more they press on and the more he falls away in his daydream, the harder it becomes to be that dutiful companion.
Taehyung, however, doesn’t blame himself for that too much. He can’t help that his mind is elsewhere, that his heart feels like it’s elsewhere; entire countries away at this point.
Somewhere in Italy, too far from his reach but in that string of negative thoughts he takes solace in the fact that tomorrow, Jeongguk would be back. Right in the early morning of their timezone, and Taehyung beams inwardly at the relief of it. It had felt like ages since his boyfriend left, and what had meant to be a full month of travel had turned into something a tad longer than that with the weather taking a bad turn. Just a week more, nothing too terrible but to them it felt like another year had been added on. And Taehyung knows it all sounds woefully dramatic coming from him, but there’s only so much silence one can take in a shared apartment before they begin to feel the weight of loneliness. Yeontan helped, of course, but a lover was something else entirely. Suffice it to say, Taehyung was losing his mind.
Even the small, mundane things became lackluster without Jeongguk around. Simple actions such as washing the dishes (with no one to drape around his back like usual), making the bed (with no one to purposely tug the blankets from him just to see him topple across the sheets), or taking Yeontan out for a walk (with no hand to warm his own). All of it became so dull against the life he lived here, and thinking about it now makes him feel like crying in a pit of his own misery and longing.
Yet, if he was to be humorous towards his own suffering he would say there is a single thing this distance brought in ways of positivity. It all came down to the simple fact he wasn’t even going to let Jeongguk out of his sight again. Well, of course he would, but not without preparing himself first for the next step of commitment.
After all, it is the reason he planned, albeit impulsively, to run out of their apartment the other day, booking it down the street and towards that jewelry shop nearby. The amount of time he spent browsing the glass cases was immeasurable, but by the end of the third hour he decided on the perfect ring for Jeongguk. Something that carried that unique Jeongguk style, nothing extravagant but detailed enough to catch his love’s eye. The ring was a tungsten band, no jewels, but along the darkened sides were intricate carvings that waved across. If they held significance, Taehyung didn’t know but deep down he just knew Jeongguk would adore it. Besides, more than that, he knew it was the one when he could so clearly envision it wrapped around that sunflower tattooed on Jeongguk’s ring finger.
So, damn the price, he thought. Because this would be worth it. In the end Jeongguk would be his in the face of adversity considering the laws surrounding their genders and love, but as always those hardships fell against them. As Jeongguk was so prone to assert,
fuck the laws
.
They’d be each other’s no matter what.
“Tae?”
The sudden intrusion of his thoughts makes him bite harshly through a grape, the juice nearly squirting into his eye as his friends laugh around him. He still manages a small, sheepish smile, taking the napkin offered and wiping down his cheek before grunting out a, “Yeah?”
“You alright there?” Jimin asks gently, palm sweeping down his back to ease his discomfort.
The poor soul, Taehyung muses, because he knows Jimin has had to put up with his whining this entire month. He must’ve raved on about
Jeongguk this
or
Jeongguk that,
but not once had his friend faulted him. In fact, there were many times Jimin had humored his misery and spent the night over at his place, Hoseok joining in on occasion. They both allowed him to sulk, vent or just offered themselves as tribute for a cuddle or two. There were times he did feel awful, especially towards Hoseok considering he was enduring the same situation. Though, one could easily argue he handled it far better than Taehyung did.
“Yeah, peachy.” He responds, stuffing another grape into his mouth while avoiding their sudden prying eyes.
Peachy. Of course, he’s not peachy. Nowhere near peachy, in fact. He’s sad, lonely, excited and stressed all at once because how the hell is he supposed to plan getting a ring on his boyfriend’s finger.
Of course, this is all some grand experience and filled with emotions but you want that moment to hold meaning. To create something memorable between your love; even though he knows deep down Jeongguk would be content with anything he planned. The man wasn’t exactly hard to please but that somehow brought on more pressure.
“Just peachy…” Taehyung heaves the biggest sigh, dropping his forehead to the desk and proving the extent of how startlingly
peachy
he is.
“Hey,” It’s Wheein who pokes at his side, making him flinch away with a small laugh, palm coming to cover the area from further attack. She’s always been a pretty easygoing person, helpful, kind and unsurprisingly funny in her own way. And though she started on less than two months ago with their production company, she had quickly become someone he considered a friend. And right now he needs all the ones he can get, with their endless supply of moral support. “What’s going on with you? You’ve been so spacey the last week.” Her perfectly shaped brow raises with her question, cookie half-chewed in her mouth. “Come on, speak up.”
“She’s right.” Jimin adds, the amusement in his tone not lost between them. “Jeongguk is coming back tomorrow, I figured you’d be screaming by now.”
Taehyung snorts at that, rolling his eyes as he slides back up in his seat, chin resting warmly in his hand. “Believe me, I am incredibly happy about that. It’s just…” He can feel the blush spread across his cheeks, the two of them blinking in surprise at the sudden change. “Maybe I should just show you.” They’re expectant, of course they are, but that doesn’t stop him from taking his time to explain. It’s not that he believes they’ll think this is a bad idea, it’s just he didn’t really want to tell anyone before he got the chance to actually do
it
. However, he could use the expenditure of emotions whirling in him, and so with a shaky hand he pulls the velvet box from his bag, swallowing thickly before turning back to them, box in hand. He can hear Jimin promptly choke on his noodles, the action making him giggle a little.
“Is that--??” Jimin is hitting his chest to ease the food down, grumbling through his shock while the inquiry hangs in the air. Wheein seems equally amazed but no less enthused by the prospect.
“Yes.” Is all Taehyung can answer, fondly twisting the box in his palm. “Yes, it is. I bought it last week. Right after our video call. I know it sounds impulsive but when have we ever been conventional.” With more composure he lifts the top open, providing them a perfect view of the ring, snug between dark blue satin.
To say they fawn over it would be an understatement.
“Tae, that’s beautiful.” Wheein claps her hands together, holding back an obvious squeal. “When are you going to propose?”
“
How
are you going to propose?” Jimin continues, the shock now replaced by calm excitement.
“I,” And there it is. The problem he was desperately trying to solve but not a single idea came to his aid. The only thing he was sure of, was that he wanted to do this. “Didn’t really think about it…”
There’s a beat of silence before the two of them break into a laugh, making Taehyung scoff at how amused they seem.
“Tae,” Jimin chuckles. “That’s kind of the important part, isn’t it?” He can tell his friend is teasing him, even when Jimin pulls him halfway into a hug, lips pressed harshly into his temple in support. “But congrats on taking that next step. I always knew you guys would.”
“T-Thank you.” He answers back, butterflies going off because this makes it more real.
“You’re both cute.” Wheein interrupts their hug-fest. “I can only imagine what you and Jeongguk are like. How long have you two been together, anyway?”
“Three years.” Three blissful years, if he’s biased.
“Perfect time, then.” She nods. “You know, you never did tell me how you met.” If she notices the prompt silence that follows her question, she doesn’t show it, merely continues to eat while Taehyung exchanges a wary glance with Jimin. But his friend just shrugs, smiling at him in a way that says to answer as he pleases.
“It’s honestly a really long story…” It wasn’t a lie, and frankly, Taehyung was proud of saying the truth. While he didn’t think any of the details needed to be said, he didn’t want to make anything up either. As far as he’s concerned, their love was theirs and theirs alone.
Fortunately, she doesn’t seem offended by the lack of particulars.
“Well, those usually make for the best kind.” She says instead. “But like,” Her expression becomes curious, cookie waving in her hand as she gestures towards him. “I vaguely remember you telling me you weren’t into men before him, right? In a way, I think that makes this all the more adorable.”
Taehyung laughs at that, because he supposes it does. It’s not like he’d believe he’d be itching to propose to a man if this was ages ago. Back then it was the endless trope of man and woman, diamond ring, wedding dress and what flavor cake to get. Now...now he thinks of Jeongguk and those cliches make him want to laugh. Knowing his boyfriend, he’d be happy to wear whatever and then eat their fair share of takeout to celebrate.
But then that familiar nagging pulses at him. The one that says
think of something better because he’s worth it
. And the stress starts all over again. “Yeah, yeah I suppose it does.”
“You should’ve seen him.” Perhaps sensing his distress, Jimin interjects with a teasing remark. “All heart eyes when they met.”
“Stop exaggerating! I wasn’t that bad.” He was
that
bad.
“Sure.”
“Okay,” Taehyung concedes. “Maybe a little.” And it’s difficult to hide the little smile the memories bring. “Maybe a lot…”
“Either way, adorable.” Wheein comes back to the topic, eyes lighting up like she’s just learned of the hottest romance. “Unexpected sexual revelation, I’m sure you’re not the first it’s happened to. But,” She leans closer, wiggling her eyebrows for effect. “What did it for you? Was it the muscles? From the pictures you’ve shown me, I’d be all over that if he wasn’t gay---”
“You’ve no shame.” Taehyung groans through his hands, feeling his face warm. But he doesn’t mind it. Knows she likes to play around sometimes just to watch him squirm. Most days her and Jimin loved to tease him, and it’s gotten more common since Jeongguk had left halfway across the globe. He suspects it’s their own way of comforting him, letting him vent adoringly over Jeongguk. Though he also suspects there’s more than friendly banter between the two, and teasing him is an excuse to also get closer themselves. Something he doesn’t ask about, but notices whenever they share small grins here and there. Much like now. Which is why he tries to unsuccessfully save himself from this conversation by pointing out Jimin’s own built, lean body. “Speaking of muscles…”
“No. No way.” Jimin takes him into a gentle chokehold, making him squirm in his grasp as he snickers, knowing fully well the distraction wouldn’t work. “Don’t change the subject.”
For a moment, Taehyung thinks Wheein might actually be more interested in his choice of topic, but she takes mercy on Jimin, smiling at the faint blush the man holds. It all only serves to prove Taehyung’s little theory about them right. “Yeah, Tae. Don’t dodge my question. Now answer, how did you know?”
It’s all too clear he’s lost this one, and while he doesn’t mind indulging them in the endless details of why he loves Jeongguk, he also never really explained to anyone before. Frankly, no one’s ever asked. “I,” He pulls free of Jimin’s hold, mind immediately drifting back to the first time he saw Jeongguk. There isn’t some rapture-like sort of moment, but what Taehyung does remember is how strong that initial meeting felt. A single tug of his heart, this indescribable pull, and the warmth that engulfed him when their hands met in greeting. “I just felt it--suddenly, I guess. It sounds so strange, I know but when I first saw him I just...I just knew.” He feels the giddiness come back to him, that feeling never quite going away throughout the years together. “I kind of froze, and probably stared a little too long at him.” He chuckles. “But there was something in him. I mean, I can safely say I had no issue admitting when a man was attractive but there was never that personal attraction, you know? But with him,”
With him it was always different.
“He took my breath away.”
Taehyung knows he can stop there, but the words just keep spilling out now, each one followed by the fond glaze of his eyes when he thinks of him. “There was something about him, one look and I felt this tug inside me. Something like butterflies but far more intense. I couldn’t explain it then, probably not even now but I know I was likely confused. I mean, I know I was but..for a split second,” He sighs. “I wasn’t. Not completely, if that makes sense. The days following were some of the most confusing of my life, but that one moment--that one initial moment when we met..it wasn’t confusing.” Taehyung peers back at them, blushing profusely when he realizes how long he rambled on. To their credit as friends, they don’t make fun of him, only smile back warmly with a proud gleam in their gazes. “That’s...that’s it. I mean, when I knew.”
“Well,” Wheein starts, pinching his cheek just to ease the shy tension. “Seems like you know what you’re doing then. It’s too bad it isn’t completely legal here, but don’t let that stop you.”
Jimin seems pleasantly amused by that, shrugging off her statement with a laugh. “Like that’s going to stop them. Hell, bet Guk’s thinking of asking himself.”
“You think so?” Taehyung beams at that, the idea of Jeongguk going through much the same pleasant stress he is making him smile down at the ring.
“Please.” Jimin replies, making it sound like the concept of that happening should be obvious. “He practically sent you a garden for your birthday and Christmas,” He waves around Taehyung’s office, the endless supply of flowers surrounding them all; some wilting and some still beautifully fresh. “And I read the card. He somehow made even the risque parts sound romantic.”
“Stop reading my mail!”
“Never thought the phrase
dick you down
could be so sweet.”
Taehyung swears he hears Wheein snort loudly at that, but he steers his embarrassment towards Jimin, guffawing at the blatant lie. “He did not write that!” Not explicitly, anyway…
“Close enough, Tae.” But Jimin ruffles his hair goodnaturedly, seemingly amused by how flustered he became. “Seriously, though. Planned or not, it’ll work out for you both. He loves you, if you don’t figure out a way to propose I am more than sure he’ll do it for you both.”
*
I'm gonna propose. I'm gonna propose.
"I'm gonna propose..." Jeongguk isn't sure how long he's repeated that newborn mantra to himself--must be on the thousandth turn by now. At this point, it's difficult to say but he knows it's the constant thought that's followed him for months on end. Hell--probably longer if he's honest. It's not like he hasn't entertained the idea of being married to Taehyung before, knows it was something he even joked about with his boyfriend from time to time. Those jokes, however, always ended with them both blushing softly to themselves, trying not to steal those weak and fond glances they have for each other. Even thinking about it now makes Jeongguk giddy with a sense of passion, that endless desire to just figure this crap out so he can move on and have Taehyung be completely his ever present.
And when he glances out the airplane window, forehead pressed into the cold pane, it does little to dull that restlessness in him. His knee still bobs up and down, fingers tapping incessantly above the armrest, and heart still beating in the same aggravated rhythm of impatience. Jeongguk can tell his behavior is disturbing Yoongi next to him, but much to his friend’s credit, he lets the vexation slide in favor of simply scowling ahead. Granted, Jeongguk believes Yoongi feels the same way. Even if the man is usually quiet about his feelings, Jeongguk knows him well enough to see how much he misses his own lover back home.
They both feel it, as it stands, that desire bursting inside. The very one that makes it hard sometimes to exist without your other half just a reach away. It’s pathetic at its core, but to them it’s the only reason to keep going.
Jeongguk, in fact, has become so accustomed to living like that. To not go a single day without having Taehyung occupy the majority of his thoughts, and the truth is, he loves it. There’s always those types who damn emotions, or get off on making fun of commitment like it’s some perpetual prison to be wary of (he would know…) but for him, that isn’t the case. And for a person who never saw himself a future like this, with someone who actually loved him for him, he’s grateful--honored, in fact, to be able to find himself wrapped around Taehyung’s little finger.
But therein lies the current fixation for the both of them squished into their seats, the reality that their significant others were still minutes away from them. So to Jeongguk, though ten minutes to landing sounds quick, it isn’t quite quick enough.
He ends up gripping the armrest in his palm, hard and unforgiving, eyes landing on the seatbelt sign still glowing for his cooperation. Honestly, he’s probably burned a hole through the damn thing by now, even with the shade of his baseball cap providing cover he guesses the flight attendant passing by collecting trash can feel the heaviness of his stare.
Jeongguk doesn’t mean to be excessively rude in demeanor, not now anyway, but he just has to get back to him already. To remind his longing brain that he didn’t fever dream some heavenly being called Taehyung as his boyfriend. That he would get off this fucking plane and run down the escalators and into Taehyung’s awaiting arms and definitely figure out his shitty ass life before was a thing of the past.
But Jeongguk can’t fucking do that from here.
“Fucking chill.”
There’s a hand on his leg, and it takes him a second to realize it’s Yoongi before he swats it away with a small smile. “I can’t. He’s probably down there in the lobby and I’m up here.” He shifts in his seat. “And it’s driving me crazy.”
Yoongi looks like he’s pained, eager in a way to snap back with something snarky just to tease him, but there’s kindness in his gaze. Instead, his friend just laughs at him, rolling his eyes like he’s heard all about this restlessness he’s plagued with--and he has. “Still planning on asking then, huh?”
“Yeah.” Jeongguk doesn’t even need to reach into his pocket to feel the weight of the ring; sitting there against black silk and inside a cliche velvet box. “Yeah, I do.” The purchase wasn’t exactly a thrill of the moment sort of deal. Never was, but he did feel that fresh form of anticipation rush him when he went out that night in Japan on the first week of their work tour. He had dragged Yoongi right along for the ride, his friend content so long as he had his weight’s worth of Dango paid for by Jeongguk. They had found themselves inside a jewelry store, some fancy ass place he wasn’t even keen on remembering the name of so long as he found the right ring.
Fortunately, he did.
A simple white gold band, one single diamond embedded in the middle of it, so tiny you’d honestly miss it unless you took a moment to admire the ring. But it was still gorgeous enough, perfect for Taehyung and suiting his tastes just like Jeongguk knew it would.
Part of him wants to pull the ring free of his pocket and give it a quick once over, make sure all was well and nothing could go wrong. Which is probably why he panicked earlier in the flight, nearly stumbled from his seat and into the aisle to retrieve it from his bag overhead. He just wanted to be
sure
, just confident enough that Taehyung would not only say yes but do so with pride in wearing that particular ring. Because for all Jeongguk’s confidence in both being a big yes, that didn’t make this next step any easier. All he knew was that he wanted to be engaged to the love of his life already.
But quick...wasn’t damn quick enough. And that’s when the real panic sets in again.
How the fuck am I supposed to propose…?
It had dawned on him to just wing it. To run out of this plane the minute he could and rush the entrance until he saw his baby and dropped to one knee right there in the airport lobby. Except...he knew Taehyung deserved better than that, better than he could ever really give if he was blatantly honest with himself. The least he can do is to not be that idiot who wastes such a question in an airport filled with strangers.
Jeongguk could do better, something grand and over the top but then he shakes his head at that too. Taehyung wouldn’t mind low key, not in the least and that left a public proposal out of the question. So if he has to suck it up and figure something better out, Jeongguk would. Even at the expense of his own patience.
“When and how are you plannin’ on doing it?”
“I…” Jeongguk begrudgingly gives Yoongi the side-eye, because he knows his friend can pick up on the delicate nature of his predicament. Yet, all Yoongi does is chuckle, shrugging his shoulders like he hasn’t the faintest clue on how to actually help him, but he’ll take the amusement of his suffering all the same.
“I wish I could say I was surprised you didn’t plan that far ahead,” Yoongi says gruffly, giving another passenger a steady look as they rise in the aisle to retrieve their belongings, the plane having landed while Jeongguk was waist deep in his self pity. “But...well...it’s you we’re talking about.”
“Hyung.” Maybe the honorific is what captures Yoongi’s full attention, or maybe it’s the weak way he mumbles it. Regardless, Yoongi heaves a gentle sigh, knowing well enough that Jeongguk doesn’t use such terms lightly but only ever in desperation of life advice. And as they shuffle to the plane exit, whispering between themselves, he knows he is. “I want to do it. I do, but...what if--”
“I swear to whatever gods may be, kid, if you say you’re scared he’ll say no I might actually punch you in the balls.”
Jeongguk won’t deny he needed that laugh. “No. Fuck no, not that. He’ll say yes, I know he will.”
“Then what’s the actual problem?”
They’re exiting now, back into the airport and through the crowd as Yoongi leads them towards the bathroom, both of them jetlagged and stumbling around. Jeongguk probably pesters him a little too much now, the flood gates open when he’s given the verbal go ahead to express his emotions. He knows some other travelers even give him a dirty look as he leans against the stall Yoongi is in, but right now it’s the least of his worries. “I want to do it right. I want it to be perfect. I just…” He bangs his head on the wall, the bill of his cap pushing up as he tries not to grimace when he hears Yoongi unzip his jeans. “I don’t know…”
“You’re overthinking it, Guk.” Yoongi calls over the stall door, the sound of the toilet flushing cutting off whatever else he grumbles about before he’s exiting and washing his hands. He takes a moment to smile back at him through the mirror, but it holds that familiar teasing appeal to it. “Doesn’t matter if you propose right now, tonight, tomorrow or whenever else.” He rips the paper towel from the dispenser, drying off his hands. “Taehyung will say yes, because at the end of the day you’re both annoyingly in love and it’s just meant to be. So screw trying to make it perfect. Just do it already.” Yoongi tosses the towel away, taking his suitcase from Jeongguk as they trail back into the terminal.
“But--”
“Fuck off with your buts, Guk.”
It’s not exactly life changing, but the advice makes him snort all the same because it does boost that earlier confidence. After all, proposing is the endgame. Though the panic persists, it’s quieter and Jeongguk hopes he can cling onto that and give himself a little more time to prepare something worthy of his love. So, he follows Yoongi eagerly again, cutting through people as they make their way down and he’s more than aware of how quickly his steps are bypassing Yoongi’s, his friend trailing behind with a gruff sort of look that would be frightening if not for the soft grumbling he hears. There’s something oddly amusing about it, from the pitch of Yoongi’s curses to the enraged whining he does whenever he manages to catch up and kick at Jeongguk’s calves—gently, of course, scolding him about suddenly needing that kick in the balls again.
Not that any of those actions are enough to still the newfound urgency in him. Jeongguk was already restless, long plane rides will do that to you, and his mind has been locked onto a long-winded mantra of ‘
Taehyung will be in my arms again’
in conjunction with his favored
‘I’m gonna propose
’ since he’s gotten on that plane back in Italy. He’s already been pushed back a week from seeing the other, fucking postponing events and all that jazz that made no sense beyond ruining his life. Something Yoongi and him agreed fervently on.
Dramatic, he knows but when your boyfriend and hopefully future fiancé is Kim Taehyung, you begin to grow impatient from the idea of being away from him. So, yes, part of him forgoes the earlier idea of being completely tolerant of waiting.
“Will you fucking slow down, my legs aren’t as long as yours.”
Yoongi can blame himself for that peptalk not so long ago.
“I’ll carry you if I have to.” Jeongguk snaps back, glaring defiantly over his shoulder at the elder.
“Try that and I fire you, kid.”
He can only laugh back at him, rolling his eyes but being kind enough to take Yoongi’s bag from him, letting him take a momentary break from the weight of it. They’re just beyond the security area now, where new passengers wait in line to be checked, and right by the doors of the airport stands two people, both with equal elation on their faces but let’s be honest...only one really captures all of Jeongguk’s attention.
Taehyung stands there, right by the doors, in his black fitted slacks and white fuzzy sweater...and really that view is enough to garner all of Jeongguk’s staring but there’s one last minor detail that truly sets the picture of perfection. A little touch of beauty that he wasn’t expecting to see and it really fucks him up when his mind was already a mess. “Holy fuck...”
He drops the bags to the ground, maybe just feet away from his love and Hoseok, and surely enough Yoongi scoffs behind him, but Jeongguk pays neither of the others any mind. Maybe he waved to Hoseok, actually but that was more autopilot than actual recognition. But he deserves the slip of his manners, because Taehyung is smiling, large and wide and effectively running over in one big rush of affection until he’s jumping into his arms and Jeongguk habitually grips his thighs around him, cradling the elder so tightly.
And he wonders how on earth he managed to let him go in the first place.
“Gukkie.” Taehyung whispers softly, tenderly and so fucking saccharine it makes Jeongguk gasp when lips descend onto his. They kiss and kiss and kiss until their lips run numb and even then he’s reluctant to pull away but he’s reminded of his lack of response earlier. The reason behind his shock, the reason Kim Taehyung stole his breath away once more.
“Your hair,” he supplies dumbly, blinking at his boyfriend in his arms, Taehyung’s nails dragging down his nape in a delightfully soothing manner. “It’s silver.”
Thinking back on it now, even if he wished to go through with proposing right here...he wouldn’t be able to. Taehyung was too much, too pretty and stunning that all other thoughts flew out the window.
“Mmm.” Taehyung merely giggles in return, as if he hadn’t surprised Jeongguk a week ago with dying it back to blond. Only to show up now with this fucking pretty number of a color. “Yes, it is, baby. Thought the blond got boring...figured I could try something really new.” He kisses him again, humming when Jeongguk chases after his lips when he pulls away. “Do you like it?” He cups his cheeks, fingers playing with the hair just below his hat.
Thousands of affirmations run through Jeongguk’s mind but nothing really manages to come out. Jeongguk’s just too infatuated, truthfully. Weakly so, at that. Taehyung was already a gorgeous being, stealing all attention from anyone and Jeongguk wouldn’t necessarily say he plays favorites with his hair colors but this silvery blond hybrid was just...
“Fuck.”
Really, that’s all that sums it up.
Taehyung, though, he continues to laugh, a short and merry sort of sound. The breathy kind that holds an endeared affection and makes Jeongguk go weak in the knees. Really, all he can reply with is a smile back, wide and happy as Taehyung lifts the crown of his cap up to capture his sparkling eyes a little more. “You know,” his boyfriend says, hooking his arms back around his neck. “Coming from you, I suppose that’s the most eloquent compliment.”
“Sorry, gorgeous. You just---fuck. You’ve no idea how hot you look.”
“I think your eyes speak enough to that sentiment.” Taehyung closes the gap between them again, Jeongguk more than eager to return the kiss and maybe they spend a little too long making out in public but he thinks they deserve it. It’s been ages, or feels that way and he’s about ready to toss his boyfriend to the ground and make good on all the heated promises they shared during phone calls or video chats.
“Guk--mpph, baby...wait…”
He can feel the breath of the bubbly laughter on his lips, begging him in a light fashion to let him go before they’re kicked out. Part of him knows he should listen, but having Taehyung in his arms again is just too good to give up just yet. “Fuck--I love you.” Jeongguk whispers against him, eating up the muffled sounds of gasps and words Taehyung tries to reply back with. “So goddamn much.”
“That’s,” Another harsh kiss to his already swollen lips. “Not news, babe.” Then another to the tip of his cute nose and on every birthmark dotting his tanned skin.
At this point, Jeongguk just feels insatiable. “Don’t care, Tae. Just need you to hear it.” And maybe understand how bad he’s been craving this.
“My big softie.” Taehyung snorts, nuzzling him in affection to ease their little love fest down. “I knew you’d love this color.” Though they both know it’s more than the physical change that gets Jeongguk going.
“You’ve no idea. You look like a damn god or something.”
“A god, huh? I kind of like that.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Makes me feel like I have power over you.” He wiggles his eyebrows, making them both laugh, even as Jeongguk rolls his eyes.
“And that isn’t news either, gorgeous.”
“Are you guys done being gross, or do you intend to bone each other here in the entrance of an airport?” It’s Yoongi who cuts into their moment, both looking over to see him holding hands with Hoseok who appears equally giddy to be reunited. Granted, the red-head doesn’t appear disgusted by them, but rather amused. “Because I’m pretty fucking tired and I’d love nothing more than to go home and sleep for the next three days.”
“Tsk.” Jeongguk scoffs, reluctantly letting Taehyung back down who still holds onto his waist so as to not trail off further. “As if you’re not planning on doing the same thing once you do get home. Sleep, my ass…”
“Jesus…” Yoongi grimaces at him, but it’s entirely clear by the reddening of his ears that he did intend to do just that. “Just get your shit and follow us to the car.”
“Yes, Dad.” Jeongguk makes a face at him, making Taehyung fight back his giggles as they link fingers and begin trailing behind the other couple. It’s quiet for a few minutes, both of them content to just bask in each other’s company after so long.
That is until Taehyung leans into him, resting his chin on his shoulder as he whispers, “Hey.”
“What’s up, beautiful?”
“Cheesy.” Taehyung smiles. “But I just wanted to say I really missed you.”
“Did you now?”
“Oh, so much.”
“I don’t believe you.” Gods--he’s missed the flirty banter.
“Trust me, my bad boy.” Taehyung playfully pokes his side, making Jeongguk chuckle as he tilts away from the touch. “Missed you so much.”
“Well, I’m delighted to say the feeling is very mutual.”
“How mutual.”
“Like,” Jeongguk thinks about it for a moment, smirking when he looks over to find Taehyung’s curious eyes. “If my plane got cancelled again, I’d have swam back here in a heartbeat.”
“You really are a huge softie.” But he laughs, cheeks flushed from the compliment and Jeongguk is pretty much a goner. It hasn’t even been ten minutes, but that familiar desire bubbles right back up inside him. The same one that he felt buying that ring currently in his pocket, the same one he gets when he just hears Taehyung’s voice or sees his smile.
That pep talk he gave himself back in the plane, the one Yoongi had given him in the restroom...they all begin to fall short. He knows he talked himself out of proposing right now and he thinks he can ignore that compulsion long enough, but looking at Taehyung now makes it harder and maybe he should’ve spent more time preparing himself for that rather than the how. Trying to fight that urge was growing more difficult, and now he’s stuck looking into those precious brown eyes.
That pocket is beginning to feel heavier by the second...and then he feels his lips part. “Taehyung, I--”
“You can put your bag in the trunk, Jeongguk.” Hoseok interrupts his impulsive proposal, and he’s never been more grateful for anything.
“O-Oh...yeah.” He clears his throat, not missing the way Taehyung raises his eyebrow at him. At least he looks amused, shrugging it off and helping him with his belongings before they’re dropping into the back seats.
“You okay?” Taehyung asks, for once letting Jeongguk forgo the safety belt in favor of stretching out across the back, head resting in his lap.
“Perfect, baby. Don’t worry about it...just tired.”
“Get some rest, we’ll be home soon. But I hope,” Jeongguk feels his cap being removed, the weight of it replaced by fingers threading through his flattened out locks. “You realize I don’t intend to let you go away for that long again.”
It’s teasing, but there’s some truth in that statement and Jeongguk doesn’t mind that one bit. “Anything you want, baby. I’ll stick around forever.”
“Forever?”
He wonders if Taehyung caught onto his sentiment, and for the briefest of moments he panics, parting his lips in an attempt to answer but then Taehyung is just blushing deeply himself as he looks away. The smarter part of him would ask about that odd behavior, but he decides now probably isn’t the time...not to mention it lets him change the subject to something else. Something that doesn’t make him feel like springing back up and proposing right here in the backseat of Hoseok’s car. “I think Yoongi is snoring.”
“He is.” Taehyung is quick to answer, now gnawing on his lip while still keeping his gaze outside the window. “At least it isn’t loud.”
“Not like your snoring.”
“Hey!”
Jeongguk chuckles at the feeble punch to his chest, grabbing the offending hand and lacing his fingers through. “No offense intended, gorgeous. I missed your loud snoring.”
“That is the rudest way anyone’s ever told me they’ve missed my presence.” He doesn’t sound affronted, just fond, maybe a tad shy but that’s how Jeongguk loves him. “But I’m still flattered.”
“You should be.”
“Jerk.”
Jeongguk smiles at that, tilting his head to snuggle into Taehyung’s stomach, comforted by the way his sweater feels soft against his cheek. He knows that nagging question still pops up in his mind, the words just hanging on his tongue but he fights to bury it down, closing his eyes and letting himself melt into the pampering he receives. Fingers still work through his hair, gentle and inviting but it does little to ease the eagerness no matter how hard he ignores it. That is the purpose, though, isn’t it? To grow a pair and ask, but the
how
still eludes him.
Later
, Jeongguk manages to convince himself.
I’ll ask later
. Because there has to be a perfect time.
There just has to.
Later presents itself quicker than Jeongguk anticipated. In fact, he’s come to realize once again that no matter how much time goes by the ache to ask exists in him. Funny thing is, it isn’t a question of when the right time is when he thinks about it, because with Taehyung every time feels like the right time but he contradicts that knowledge with the
how
and he ends up right back at square one.
In the last twenty minutes he’s gone through sleeping soundly in his boyfriend’s lap, to waking up and thinking now is a good time to propose. Even when they finally did get to their apartment, said their goodbyes to a half asleep Yoongi and cheery Hoseok, he felt it beating inside him. He nearly asked in the elevator, then again in the hallway while Taehyung squished his cheeks together and cooed in endearment of his sleepy features. All because his boyfriend had the audacity to look that good and smile that cutely at him.
Truth is, he’s just
missed
this. All of this and it reminds him of how badly he wants
this
to be his forever. But he has to put a ring on that damn finger first. Legal or not, it’s about the symbolism and his emotions...and what Taehyung is deserving of.
So, it turns out, later presents itself in a number of ways and not a single one seems to help him out of his situation.
Now is no different. Taehyung is opening their apartment door, tossing the keys into the decorative bowl on the entry table and helping him out of his jacket and reaching for his duffel bag. The entire moment feels so domestic, more so when Yeontan begins yipping from his playpen, tail wagging excitedly and whines so loud Jeongguk has no other option but to humor him with some pets and baby talk.
“He’s missed you like crazy, too.”
“I can see that.”
“I’ll go put your stuff away while you play with him.”
“You don’t have to do that, babe.”
“Shush, I got it.” Taehyung winks at him, toeing his shoes off before heading down the hall and leaving him with their furry child. Jeongguk watches him go, smiling to himself and taking the chance to pick Yeontan up and rush to the office area. He fishes the ring from his pocket, showing it off to his pup as if he was bound to get Yeontan’s approval.
Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t get much of an answer besides a head tilt. “Yeah, I do have good taste, don’t I?” He still muses, looking over his shoulder to make sure Taehyung still wasn’t around before he stuffs the box into one of his drawers filled with markers and pens. “But I’ll ask another time, yeah?” It’s meant to ease his own confliction, nodding to himself as he works his way down the hall to greet his love once again. “When your father least expects it...I hope.” He sets his dog down, Yeontan running off to entertain himself while he leans against the doorway to their bedroom, grinning when he finds Taehyung already sorting through his packed clothes and toiletries. It’s not like it’s the most grand gesture you could afford someone, but to Jeongguk the sight alone means so much to him. He wonders then, how he managed to get so lucky and more than that...he really does need to make that proposal count.
Sorry, Yoongi..doesn’t seem like I can just do it already…
“Hey,” Jeongguk swallows down the self-deprecating sigh, coming to stand behind Taehyung who just hums happily when he wraps his arms around his waist. “I can do that, Tae.”
“I know.” Taehyung laughs when he’s squished against him, Jeongguk refusing to let go even as they walk around the room, putting his clothes back into the proper drawers or closet. “But you’re tired, Gukkie. I can tell.”
“Oh, you can, can you?” He clasps his hands tighter around Taehyung’s stomach, pulling him back until he can feel the way his body warms up to him. It’s soft, comforting and Jeongguk tries not to get too lost in it just yet, though he does allow himself the pleasure of kissing down his neck, just shy of the collar of his sweater. Besides, it’s worth the way his boyfriend leans into him, Taehyung tilting his head back just to kiss his cheek.
“Alright, alright.” Taehyung sets the rest of his things to the side of the bed. “You’re clearly still energetic enough to be clingy.”
“Can you blame me?” Truth is, he is tired--jetlagged, actually. However, it’s been ages since he’s had this and the way he’s feeling, completely smitten, he’d much rather cater to his unwavering need for Taehyung than deal with the pressing matter of sleep.
Taehyung, though, isn’t completely convinced. Instead, he flicks at Jeongguk’s chin adoringly, tugging his cap back off again and tossing it to the side. “You need sleep, Jeongguk. You’ve been up for hours, did you even sleep on the plane?” He finishes by ruffling at his hair, making Jeongguk groan as he swats him away.
No, he didn’t sleep. He had other things on his mind that kept him wide awake in a panic and he’d rather let that stew off to the side for now.
I’m gonna propose...later.
“Yes…”
“You’re a terrible liar.” That fond statement is topped off by Taehyung shoving him back onto the bed, Jeongguk grunting at the sudden force but not willing to fight back. “Take a nap, at least. Then we can hang out all you want, because I intend to not let you go for the next month.”
“Is that a promise?”
“Mmhm. Gonna wrap my arms around you and not let go no matter how much you complain.”
Jeongguk would never complain about that. Especially when he can finally reach over and grab his boyfriend’s hand, thumb brushing the knuckles. It just feels right to be able to have him physically near, unlike the last month and some days of loneliness. “That’s literally all I want right now, babe. So,” Jeongguk tugs gently, smirking as Taehyung fights back feebly. It only makes him pull his hand harder, easily causing the elder to topple over onto the comforter with a huffed
‘oof’
.
“Geez, miss me that much?”
Laughter flows between them, Jeongguk rolling to his side until he’s able to look down upon his boyfriend; Taehyung’s silver hair thrown in wisps over the blanket. “Take a guess, gorgeous.”
“Ah,” He sighs in return, raising his hand to trail his fingers along Jeongguk’s jaw. “I missed you that much, too.”
Jeongguk stares back at him, and he knows it’s a silly thing...to be so taken by a simple statement that is more than obvious. They missed each other, of course, they did. But hearing it still lights that fire in him, makes him smile like an idiot when he leans down to kiss him. Truth be told, right now he’s feeling that urgency again. The little voice in his head popping off about asking the big question because of course, Taehyung finds a way to constantly make him feel like this. “Oh,” He decides to distract himself, though he does have some good reason. “I just remembered.”
“Hm?” Taehyung mutters between a kiss, hands still cupped around Jeongguk’s cheeks and it’s difficult to keep his own distraction going when Taehyung touches him like this.
“I have some souvenirs for you. One from each country we visited.” His lips descend to Taehyung’s jaw as he says this, barely brushing the smooth skin but the sensation is enough to have Taehyung squirming happily beneath him.
“That’s so sweet, baby...Can I see them now?”
“Well,” Jeongguk smirks into his neck, teeth tenderly nipping the area he was just sucking on. “Most of them are in my bag...but there is one I can show you now.”
“I swear if you say anything along the lines of
this dick
, I will actually send you halfway across the country myself.”
Jeongguk snickers loudly at that, burying his face into Taehyung’s shoulder as peels of laughter spill forth. That wasn’t his entire intention, at least not so obscene anyway. “No, no...I mean, that was kind of my lead up into--ow!” He flinches back when Taehyung’s fingers pinch at his nipple, his own hand coming up to block the next bout of attacks and shield himself from further pain. “Hey! I’m trying to be fucking romantic here, babe.”
“You are so bad at this.” But it’s obvious how amused Taehyung is.
“Maybe. But there’s no backing out of this relationship now.” He sits back up against the headboard, letting Taehyung crawl over to him and straddle his hips. “You’re stuck with me.”
“I like being stuck with you.”
“Yeah?” If Taehyung keeps smiling like that, Jeongguk is going to find a way to teleport that damn ring back into his hand right now. But, deep down he knows...knows this isn’t the most exciting time to be proposing but fuck--that feeling just keeps growing and he’s so tempted to ask.
Distraction. Distraction
, he pleads with himself, swallowing down hard as he mumbles out, “S-Souvenirs…” Because it’s all he can go back to using as an excuse.
“Oh.” Taehyung nods at him, small smile evident but he glances over his shoulder to the bag abandoned by the foot of the bed. “Much as I’d love to see what you brought me...I kind of love what’s happening here.” He motions between them, earning another laugh from Jeongguk who can’t say he doesn’t agree.
“Lucky for you, one of them is attached to me.”
“Jeongguk--” It’s a short warning, one that makes Jeongguk giggle because he realizes his words are coming a little too sexualized.
“Unintentional. I promise. Although...it does involve me taking off my shirt.”
“Hm...I’ll allow it.” Taehyung removes his arms from around his neck, palms sweeping down his chest and stopping just shy of the hem of his shirt. “Did you...pierce your nipples?” He asks casually, tilting his head as he begins to slowly inch up his clothing.
“No.”
“Belly button?”
“No...but that would be kind of hot.”
“It would. Umm...oh, a new tattoo?” Taehyung wiggles his eyebrows, smile growing wider when Jeongguk simply grins in answer. “Oh my god, you did.”
“I did.”
“What is it?”
“Why don’t you finish undressing me to find out?”
“God, I love this...best gift I’ve ever unwrapped.”
They both laugh at their over the top flirting, Taehyung now biting down on his lip as he pulls the garment up, revealing toned and slightly golden skin. Jeongguk just watches amusedly, trying not to smirk when he sees Taehyung’s eyes widen when they land on the patch of skin above his navel. Briefly, he wonders why he didn’t just take the chance and have
‘Will you marry me?’
inked there instead, but that would’ve probably been in poor taste...even if it did solve his problem. Yet, he can’t say his chosen idea for a new tattoo wasn’t worth it in the end. Because the way Taehyung’s eyes light up and the way they grow misty makes him want to embrace his boyfriend so tightly until the end of his days.
“You…” Taehyung grows speechless at the sight, Jeongguk can tell and his boyfriend just sits on his lap, one hand still holding his shirt up and the other splayed over his abdomen with his fingertip tracing the letters. “This...this is from Les Mis…”
“It is.”
“It’s one of my favorite musicals…”
“I know.”
“And that’s my birth flower…” His voice grows more choked as he speaks, Adam’s apple bobbing tightly.
Jeongguk understands, though. He was no better when he actually got this tattoo done over in Paris. He had known by then that he’d be missing Taehyung’s birthday. Something he wouldn’t really forgive himself for, even if it was out of his control with delayed trips to Italy and then to South Korea. The last stretch of their tattoo tour was supposed to end in Italy, but weather had delayed them in France and then again in Italy when they were meant to be home the following week.The disappointment they all shared was evident, and Jeongguk hated the pain he heard in Taehyung’s voice when he had to relay the news.
Which is precisely why he thought of this design. A long quote...in delicate cursive and tapered off into the sketched version of Taehyung’s birth flower; Calycanthus Floridus.
“I-uh…” Jeongguk can feel the tips of his ears go red, suddenly feeling on the spot. It’s been years, but he still gets that awkward sense of romanticism. “I had a lot of nights over there...in all the countries, I mean. You know, you were so far away.” Taehyung must feel the same agonized memory, because he looks back up at him, smiling so softly to placate whatever apprehension he feels. “It sounds so dependent, but I guess that’s exactly what it is.” He can’t help but laugh at his own clinginess. “The time difference was excruciating, and while I loved our texts and video chats...instead of helping, I always felt worse after.”
“I know exactly what you mean.” Taehyung admits, leaning forward to bunt their foreheads together, both of them probably pathetically close to tears. It’s just another reason for Jeongguk, though, to feel so hopelessly in love and ready to take that next step. To merely know he doesn’t have to elaborate too much for Taehyung to completely understand him. That those calls were heaven but they did little to ease the longing, only ever intensifying it.
“Yeah,” He continues. “I didn’t know what to do with myself most days. I kept thinking that I should just quit all that and fuck off back to South Korea. To you…”
“Jeongguk.”
“I know. I know. I’d be ditching Yoongi and you’d probably kick my ass for giving up.”
“I would.”
“Didn’t make it any less tempting.” He laughs, taking the chance to steal a quick kiss to those plush lips. “Point is, there were moments I couldn’t talk to you because you were asleep or at work and we were just all over the place. It was hard, so one night I...I ended up rolling out of bed in the evening, missing you like crazy and decided to watch one of those shows you always go nuts about.”
“Wait,” Taehyung blinks at him, a giggle evident in his tone. “What?”
“Don’t laugh, you little shit.”
“You went to a play? Without me having to drag you to one?”
“I’ve never felt so out of place. It was a ballet, actually...and you should’ve seen the looks they gave me.”
“Oh my god.” The laughter grows louder, Taehyung’s entire body shaking with amusement. “And they didn’t kick you out?”
“No, they kicked me out.” Jeongguk chuckles right back. “Some bullshit about me not adhering to the dress code. Not like I packed a damn tux to teach inked realism.” That only serves to make Taehyung laugh more. “I said don’t laugh.”
“I’m sorry! It’s just...never mind, go on, my little theatre-goer.” He’s teasing and Jeongguk knows it but he’s missed that instigating just as much as all the rest of his wonderful traits.
Still, he scoffs as he continues, rolling his eyes for good measure with a pinch to those endearing cheeks. “So, I ended up finding another theatre, a small one and not exactly known to the general public I guess. But it was a production of Les Mis.”
“The rookie ones are always better, if you ask me.”
“Yeah, well...it was all in French. So I didn’t understand the majority of it. But, there was one line that I kind of got, stuck out a little and the guy next to me was kind enough to translate it back in English, which made it easier to translate into Korean---anyway, that’s not important. So…”
“So?”
“So, this.” Jeongguk nods down at his navel, smiling when Taehyung returns his gaze to the tattoo, fingers back to tracing over the cursive, completely entranced.
Yet why did I allow that man to touch my soul and teach me love?
“I know it’s probably dorky...and considering the context of the musical it doesn’t come close to suiting what my feelings are.” He laughs. “But hey, in our context...it fits.”
“It fits.” Taehyung solidifies, eyes drawing back to him and Jeongguk can see the fresh set of tears he holds. “And...the flower?”
“I was going to miss your birthday. I just...needed you closer to me and this,” He touches over his own ink, clasping Taehyung’s hand in his that still lingers there. “Somehow made it bearable. Is that cheesy…?”
“Yeah,” Taehyung sniffles, biting back his grin. “It is, and I love you so much for it. I take back what I said earlier. You’re not bad at this whole romance thing.”
“Well, I don’t know about that.” He’ll just have to see how the whole proposal issue goes…
“Shut up, you are. This is perfect, precious…” Taehyung kisses him, lips pressed roughly into his own and Jeongguk can feel how overwhelmed he is--they are. In fact, the kiss is sticky with tears, making it wet but he wouldn’t trade this for anything in the world and he’s grateful for it right now. Because if Taehyung wasn’t kissing him like this, swallowing down his mumbles and admissions of love, he’d be crying out a proposal.
“Jeongguk, I…” He can see the way Taehyung drops his hands over his own thighs, fingers digging and gripping at the fabric of his slacks. It makes him raise his eyebrows questioningly, but he doesn’t press his boyfriend for anything further, letting him ease into whatever he needs to say himself. “I just...I have--I mean...Jeongguk, will--”
But he doesn’t seem to get the chance. His phone begins to ring, Jeongguk watching with a smile as Taehyung sputters and reaches into one pocket only to squeal in shock and move to the other, fishing his phone out. “H-Hello?” He chokes, wiping away tears and sighing when his mother’s voice comes across the line. “Hi, Mother...y-yes, he’s back. Um--one second.” Taehyung holds a finger up to Jeongguk, eyes apologetic before he shifts off his lap and escapes out of their bedroom.
*
“Did you ask?”
Taehyung stops in his tracks, right in the middle of their hallway, lip bitten red from his nerves. Even his mom’s voice on the other end of the line doesn’t ease his worry like it normally does. “I...almost did.”
“Aren’t you at home, honey?”
“Yes.”
“So,”
She says, sounding amused.
“You nearly proposed to him in your apartment?”
Yeah, yeah...he almost did. “Almost. He did something really sweet, Mother.” Taehyung sighs, scowling when he hears her laugh on the other end. “Wait, is that Papa laughing in the background?”
“Yes.”
She laughs.
“He says you should just let Jeongguk do the proposing.”
“What, why?”
“Make him work for it.”
Taehyung scoffs, but he can’t say he isn’t surprised at his father’s teasing. “Of course, he’d say that. Jimin actually thinks he’ll propose too...eventually.” But that’s the thing, Taehyung is being impatient. It’s not necessarily about wanting to be the one to do it, he just wants to be engaged to that man. And after that little tattoo stunt back in the bedroom, Taehyung’s heart is nearly leaping out of his throat to do it.
“Well, has he mentioned anything?”
“No, not really. I mean he did just get back.”
“Then what was this sweet gesture you mentioned?”
“Oh.” He smiles. “He got a tattoo for me. Something sentimental.”
“Goodness. That boy isn’t going to have any room left on his body one day.”
Taehyung looks back towards the bedroom door, fighting down the giggles because she isn’t wrong. “It was perfect.” He defends, that same flattered feeling bubbling back up. It wasn’t the first time Jeongguk had dedicated a portion of his body to him, but each one would always provoke the same emotions. How can he not be moved by something so intimate and personal? “He’s perfect.” He leans back into the wall, holding his phone between his shoulder and ear as he reaches down to pull the ring from his pocket. He almost messed up back in the room, nervously searching for his phone only to register at the last second that wasn’t the right pocket. At least he saved himself that awkward and impulsive conversation. “To be honest, I almost proposed at the airport, too…”
“What stopped you, honey?”
“Dignity.” He jokes, smiling when he hears her laugh. “No, I just...want to do something better. More personal, I guess.”
“I don’t think Jeongguk cares about how big the gesture is, Taehyung. He seems a simple man when it comes to that. I think,”
He can hear her sigh, this happy sort of sound that makes him equally giddy because she’s clearly approving of this next step in their lives. A far cry from the beginning of that parental fiasco.
“You should just go for it, sweetie. Jeongguk, when he spoke to me, he just seemed so happy that you loved him. He doesn’t ask for anything more than that, Taehyung. So, just go for it.”
That’s the thing, though, isn’t it? Taehyung knows Jeongguk would sacrifice anything for him, refusing to ask anything in return because of it. So long as he loved him, and he truly does, Jeongguk is content...but Taehyung knows for a fact his boyfriend deserves more than that. He deserves everything good this world has to offer and if he could just show him that, even with a proposal, he would do his best to make that happen. Still, he’s grateful for the advice and it’s not like he won’t consider it, but for now he brushes the option aside. “Thank you, Mother...I’ll do my best.”
“Don’t worry, my little bear.”
“Jesus…” But the nickname still makes him smile.
“You’ll figure it out. And then the next step, grandchildren.”
“Okay, I’m hanging up now.”
“Good luck! I love you, and say hello to my future son-in-law.”
“Love you, too.” Taehyung grins, hanging up the phone and moving to the couch as he places it on the coffee table. Yeontan is sleeping on the other end, barely peeking over at him as he stares at the box in his hand. “Yeah, I’ll figure it out…”
“Figure what out?”
Taehyung gasps at the sudden weight against his back, Jeongguk having snuck up on him, arms now wrapping around his waist as they sit. He takes that moment to quickly squish the box between the couch cushions, blushing deeply at how he was so close to being caught. “Um, nothing important. Was just talking to my mother.”
“Ah, I get it now.” Jeongguk rests his chin on his shoulder, smirking back at him like he’s just unearthed his deepest, darkest secret and for a second Taehyung actually feels the panic bubble up. “More talk about grandchildren?”
“Oh!” He’s never breathed so deeply in relief. “Heh, yeah…” Taehyung chuckles awkwardly, tucking his hair behind his ear as he leans back to look at him. “You got it, always about the grandchildren...you know how she is.”
“You’re being weird, gorgeous.”
“No, I’m not.”
“You’re not actually trying to figure out a way to get one of us pregnant, are you?” Jeongguk jokes, but it does little to ease his nerves. “Because I’m afraid that’s not possible. Though,” His lips move to Taehyung’s ear, making him shiver when warm breath hits the sensitive lobe. “I’m not opposed to going at it like crazy just to prove you wr--ow! Stop pinching my nipples, you know they’re sensitive.”
“Then stop being a pervert, and didn’t I tell you to sleep? You should be jet lagged, not horny.”
“You say that like you haven’t been deprived for over a month, too.”
Point taken,
Taehyung thinks. “What?” He decides to tease instead, making sure Jeongguk forgets all about his awkward fumbling and running out of the room earlier. “Were those late night video calls not enough?”
“Fuck. Don’t remind me of those...they were hot.”
“Mmm,” Taehyung flicks at his chin once more, giving him a quick kiss to the cheek. “They were.”
“I’m glad you agree, gorgeous but can you please come back to bed with me already? We can make those video calls a reality now.”
“Sure.” He concedes, all smiles because he’s not opposed to that, but he has a small...matter to attend to first. Like say, moving that ring from the cushions to his office drawer at least. “Just give me two seconds, I’ll be right there.”
“Why, just come now.”
“Two seconds, Gukkie. I promise.”
“But--”
“I just need to go into the office real quick--”
“No!” Jeongguk pulls him back down onto the couch just as he was moving to stand and shoo him away, hoping he’d have the time to sneak his hand between the sofa. “I mean...whatever it is, it can wait.”
“Jeongguk, just two seconds.”
“Why do you need to go into the office, anyway?” He’s holding onto Taehyung’s wrist now, tight but soft enough to be gentle. Not that Taehyung isn’t convinced he shouldn’t be getting up, especially since he knows he can’t just keep the ring in such a place. However, he also can’t exactly answer that question, because he doesn’t have any other reason to go in there…
“Well, I--how come you don’t want me to go into the office?” It’s the lamest counter, but for whatever reason, it’s enough to get Jeongguk to shrug.
“No reason…I just prefer you come to the bedroom.”
“Wow.” Taehyung can’t deny they’re both being weird, though he can’t quite figure out why Jeongguk is being so adamant about it either. Still, he’ll take the distraction, practically welcomes it when Jeongguk lifts them both off the couch, cradling him in his arms to not give him the option of running away. “A-plus seducing technique.” Yet, it does work and Taehyung won’t say he’s disappointed at leaving the ring nestled in their couch. Kind of difficult to care when you’re a little more preoccupied by your boyfriend kissing you, stripping you bare and making up for all the lost time.
However, making love doesn’t exactly cause the question of
how
to fade away. If anything, Taehyung finds it makes that feeling grow stronger. Gives him every reason to think about a shiny new ring snug around that slender finger, right over that small sunflower tattoo, and connected to a warm palm that is currently busy gripping his thigh, so roughly it leaves fading marks beneath his own tattoo on his thigh.
Later
, he reminds himself, trying his best to batter down the want to blurt out a proposal in the middle of sex. To be fair, he’d also laugh at himself for ever considering that. Jeongguk would probably suffer an inflated ego, knowing he could give it to him so good he reacts by asking him for his hand in marriage. But for now,
later
, he thinks again, now gasping when lips pepper down his neck, content to leave a wet trail along his already glistening skin.
Later....I’ll figure out how, later...
|
Three days later, Bucky was still sleeping on his office floor and looking increasingly shitty. He knew it because he had eyes and also because even Clint was giving him some serious side-eye and about a four-foot personal bubble.
It was just. He couldn’t get to (or from) his apartment and his office floor wasn’t particularly comfortable. He’d had to go buy a couple outfits the day before because he was out of clean clothes. The weather wasn’t letting up and it was snowing too much too fast to clear the miles of uncovered track between Andrew station and the Braintree/Ashmont branches. They’d had four feet of snow in a couple weeks and it stayed so cold it never melted, just packed down and hardened into ice that was difficult to get off the tracks. Getting to Quincy was a pipedream. Enough people had turned to driving that 95 was considered a parking lot by four pm. Working from home was only an option for so long, and asking to be put up in a hotel wasn’t realistic.
He’d get an inflatable mattress, he decided, and some sheets. Marshalls had that shit cheap enough and he’d feel better about sleeping in his office and he’d label food in the communal fridge and he’d be fine even if he couldn’t cook a real meal in the office toaster or microwave.
***
It was during a conference call when it happened. Things were moving along as normal and then Suffolk was talking about MIT’s campaign. He wasn’t sure how they knew so much, it wasn’t proprietary, but it still wasn’t common to share so many details. Steve had an answer that sounded like he’d met with Natasha and they’d be incorporating the Caribbean somehow. It didn’t make much sense. When their contact mentioned a shrubbery Bucky leaned forward to put his foot down. That made no sense no matter how much he enjoyed Monty Python.
There was a poke on his shoulder.
“Buck.” Another poke. “Bucky.”
Oh. He’d fallen asleep. He cracked an eye. Steve had muted the conference call.
“Sorry.” Bucky scrubbed a hand across his face. “’M sorry. Shit. I – "
“ – haven’t been sleeping? I noticed.” Steve gave him a wry smile. “Listen, why don’t you stay with me? I live in Somerville. The commute’s not great, but it’s better than yours probably is.”
He was right. All the track was underground on the Red Line aside from JFK to Braintree or Ashmont. Steve might have delays, but his apartment was accessible and the tracks on the route there were clear.
“Steve – I – “
“Is everything alright?” Their client’s voice crackled down the line.
Steve unmuted the call. “Yes – sorry. I’ve noted the changes you’re requesting. We can have these to you by tomorrow end-of-day. Does that work?”
“Perfect, thank you.”
Steve ended the call, and looked up to Bucky. “Come on, Buck. You’re running yourself into the ground. I have the space.”
“I can’t ask you to do that. Who knows how long this’ll last or how long it’ll take them to get the trains running right again.”
“Fortunately, you didn’t ask anything. I offered. I’d – I’d be glad to have you stay. With me.”
Bucky wanted to say yes. He needed to say no. Because they were stilted at best in person at work. How much more of a trainwreck would he be in person for god-knows-how-long sharing the same four walls with Steve? Sorry, I can’t stay with you because my giant schoolgirl crush on you will become unbearable and more unprofessional than it already is wasn’t exactly a viable response.
Steve raised an eyebrow and looked vaguely concerned with Bucky’s silence. Fuck.
Bucky panicked and blurted (against his better judgment): “Sure! Ok. Thanks. I’d – I really appreciate it. You’re sure?”
“Absolutely. You should head home now to pack and go to sleep early. Just get here when you get here tomorrow.”
Bucky raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize you’d been promoted to CD. Natasha’ll be pissed she’s been replaced.”
Steve blushed. “I just – you look exhausted. You should ask if you can leave early, I guess is what I was trying to say.”
Bucky tried to keep from blushing and smiling too wide. He wasn’t entirely successful. “I think I will.”
***
He wasn’t sure what to pack; he had no idea how long he’d be at Steve’s. He made sure to empty out his fridge, at least.
Becca was beside herself. “I knew it. This is so great. Oh my god. You are about to live a Hallmark special. This is amazing. Keep me posted.”
Bucky groaned. “Becks. Come on. I called you to help me decide what to bring with me. I have a week’s worth of clothes, but should I bring more? I don’t want to look like I’m moving in, but – ”
“ – but he sort of asked you to move in until that heinous weather is over?”
“Yeah.”
“Split the difference. Bring like, a week, two weeks’ worth of clothes. I’m sure he has laundry in his building or nearby or something and if you have to go home to get something you can. Oh! Bring your movies. And your skillet.”
“…What?”
“You can cook. So, bring your skillet. And your movies. I’m not saying he doesn’t have any of his own to watch, but like, it might start a conversation about your interests, at least."
“You are not helping.” He threw his case of DVDs into his duffel bag regardless.
“I am so helpful. Sam would’ve told you to pack hope and condoms. So.”
Bucky hummed. “Fair enough. And yes, I will ‘keep you posted’. Nosy.”
“Perfect. Don’t be good.”
Bucky’s email pinged. Becca had sent him a link to Savage Garden’s I Want You. Bucky laughed. “Goodnight, Becks.”
By the time he was finished, he nearly couldn’t zip his duffle bag shut, but he had enough clothes, toiletries (and yes he fit his movies in but left the skillet because come on, Becca.)
He wasn’t looking forward to the commute in, but he’d have been lying to himself if he said he wasn’t excited to see what Steve’s apartment looked like. And there was maybe a part of him hoping that something would happen. |
Joohyun coughed, sounding like she was about to cough up her actual lung while she stood in front of the fridge. Seulgi scowled from her place on the couch, concerned for her girlfriend. Joohyun has been coughing and warmer than usual for the whole day but Joohyun was vehemently denying that she was sick.
Joohyun coughed violently again. Seulgi scowled and stood, walking over to her girlfriend. She gently wrapped her arms around Joohyun’s waist and nuzzled her face into her neck, sighing softly. Her girlfriend leaned back against her, stifling a cough as she breathed.
“Joohyun...” Seulgi whispered. Seulgi brought one of her hands to her girlfriends forehead, feeling that Joohyun’s head was very much fever warm. “You’re sick. Please lay down and let me take care of you.” Joohyun scowled.
“I’m fine Seulgi.” It was Seulgi’s turn to frown this time. She just wanted to take care of Joohyun but she wasn’t able to get through to her yet.
Seulgi sighed. “I know you’re strong and healthy and capable to so much, but please, you’re stuck and I don’t want you to get worse, I just want the best for you.” Joohyun sighed again. She leaned back against Seulgi and sighed deeply, standing there against her for a solid few minutes.
Joohyun sighed, then slowly turned in Seulgi’s arms and immediately pressed her face to Seulgi’s neck. “Fine. Take me to bed...” Joohyun whispered. Seulgi smiled, this meant that she could properly take care of girlfriend.
She quickly bent down slightly and picked up Joohyun from underneath her butt. Joohyun wrapped her legs around Seulgi and her arms around her neck and let herself be carried.
Seulgi promptly took Joohyun to her room and gently set her down on her bed. She tucked Joohyun in, covering her with blankets and quickly sprinting out and grabbing one of her softest T-shirt’s for Joohyun to wear.
Joohyun switched into the shirt, sighing happily at how soft it was. Seulgi smiled softly at her girlfriend as she properly tucked her in. Joohyun smiled softly before coughing again. Seulgi frowned.
“Hyun-ah, will it be alright if I run it and grab you some medicine? I don’t want to leave you alone but I want you to have some meds.” Seulgi fretted. Joohyun smiled softly at Seulgi’s care, and nodded.
“I’ll be okay. I’ll stay right here and be patient, don’t worry.” Joohyun smiled again, motioning her for girlfriend to go. Seulgi smiled back softly and quickly shot out the door, sprinting out to get medicine.
It took Seulgi a short about of time to sprint down to the store down the block after pulling in her mask and cap. Joohyun might be sick, but unfortunately she still had to be careful not to be seen, she was an idol after all.
Seulgi quickly made it back to their apartment, holding the bag with the medicine tightly. She quickly pulled off her shoes and mask and set the bag down and grabbing the meds out of the bag before making a beeline for Joohyun’s room. The other members watched as Seulgi hustled around, concerned for Joohyun but also laughing at how whipped Seulgi was being.
Seulgi stepped into Joohyun’s room and was greeted with a soft smile and a bout of coughing. She quickly sat down, a glass of water in one hand and meds in the other. Joohyun sighed and sat up and took the medicine before curling back up under the covers.
Seulgi frowned, worried for her girlfriend. She gently ran her hand along Joohyun’s cheek, as she made eye contact and smiled. She was still particularly feverish but Seulgi hoped that the medicine would work fast and bring it down.
“Is there anything else you need or want baby?” Seulgi asked quietly. Joohyun blushed and shook her head slightly.
“Can you just come hold me while we watch a movie?” Joohyun smiled up at Seulgi, doing her best puppy dog eyes. The effort made Seulgi laugh.
“Of course. Let me grab my laptop and I’ll be right back okay?” Seulgi stood and quickly walked out. Less than two minutes later she was back in Joohyun’s room, protectively cuddling her as the big spoon as they watched various movies that her girlfriend picked.
Seulgi was just glad that Joohyun was relaxing and allowed her to take care of her. For the next several hours Seulgi would regularly check up on Joohyun, whether it be a hand to her forehead or asking if she needed or wanted anything.
Eventually Joohyun’s eyes drifted shut, unable to continue watching the movie as her body rejected any semblance of staying awake so that she could properly get better by sleeping. Seulgi smiled once she noticed, then closed the laptop softly before getting off the bed slowly.
Joohyun whimpered and cracked an eye open before flinging an arm out to try and grab Seulgi. “Stay. Please?” She whispered. Seulgi melted at her girlfriends tired and raspy plea and quickly set the laptop down on Joohyun’s desk before climbing in beside her girlfriend.
Her own health be damned, she didn’t care if she got sick, she was going to stay with Joohyun to be able to keep an eye on her and to comfort her by staying. She wrapped her arms around Joohyun as she scooted close, hugging her comfortably. Seulgi quickly fell asleep as well, all while comforting Joohyun subconsciously with the rise and fall of her breath.
The next few days were difficult for Joohyun. The sickness only continued, only slightly dying down when she took medication. She never made it farther than the couch and even then she didn’t move much but to hold a mug of tea Seulgi brought her and be covered by a blanket.
Seulgi, being the dutiful girlfriend, kept a close eye on Joohyun. While she didn’t hover, she was aware of how and where Joohyun was most of the time. She brought anything her girlfriend needed and always made sure she was comfortable and as content as she could be while hacking up a lung.
Seulgi often wound up cuddling with Joohyun, it soothed her girl friend and brought a certain level of comfort that she would never deny her. There care the threat of getting sick, though they tried their best to avoid more dangerous things, such as kissing (which they both loathed because they really liked to kiss each other) or sharing a food or drink. Seulgi also made sure to wash her hands or shower after she cuddled with Joohyun to just try and limit the amount of germs (Seulgi felt it was overkill but Joohyun insisted And when her girlfriend insisted, she was powerless to deny her.)
Finally after about a week since Seulgi had convinced Joohyun to let her take care of her, the sick slowly started leaving. Joohyun’s fever was almost entirely gone and the cough was slowly clearing up. Joohyun attributed her healing to the amount of love she got from Seulgi, while Seulgi just shook her head with a soft smile on her face and said it was thanks to the medicine and the rest.
xxxx
Much to Seulgi’s dismay, and the rest of the members humor, Seulgi got sick with the exact same bug that Joohyun had gotten.
Joohyun just smiled and held onto Seulgi like her girlfriend did for her, giving her medicine and watching her so she was comfortable until she was healthy again.
|
Exhaustion washed over you as Benny bandaged up your hand. As the cold had steadily left your body, it was replaced with a warmth that was intent on making you fall asleep at the touch of his fingers to your palm.
The king piece sat on the dining table between the two of you, blood already drying on its crown. You found you could look at it now—without the feeling of your whole body going into shock or on the brink of collapse.
Benny sighed as he tied the bandage, sitting back in his chair and not meeting your eye. You had the sudden urge to apologise, but you knew he’d only tell you there was no need. You could see guilt appear behind his eyes, thick and strong, encasing his logical brain that knew he’d done the right thing.
You cleared your throat. “Thank you,” You said. Benny looked at you then, his eyes finally letting in the light and shoving away the dark. “Like I said, you kept a piece of him for me. I’m sure that king has been burning a hole in your pocket for a long time.”
Benny chuckled softly. “Yeah, something like that.”
“I hope I didn’t scare you,” You let out. It was as much of an apology you could give without it actually being one.
“Scare me?” Benny repeated, raising his brows at you. “Y/N—you terrified me,” You hadn’t been expecting such an open answer. You’d thought he’d maybe shrug, or laugh, or roll his eyes. Not this. “It was like you froze, like you weren’t here anymore. When you opened the door and rushed outside, I didn’t know what to think.”
“Neither did I,” You added, letting out a pent-up breath.
“I’m sorry,” He let out, and you heard the worry in his voice. “I didn’t know—,”
“You didn’t know I would react like that,” You finished his sentence. “It wasn’t your doing that made me snap in the slightest. I think this has been a long time coming.”
Benny nodded once. “I think so, too,” He reached out and grabbed the king, rubbing off some of the blood with his thumb. “I’ve seen you slowly get more comfortable talking about him, playing the game—but I’ve also seen the moments where you couldn’t stand to have thoughts of him inside your head.”
You let out a chuckle to try and hide the way your cheeks were gently flushing. You didn’t realise Benny paid this much attention to the way you acted. “If you’ve observed me this well it’s only a matter of time before you beat me at chess.”
He smirked. “I’m working on it.”
You retreated to your room, chess piece in hand, after Benny saw how tired you were. You didn’t get into bed, though—you wouldn’t be able to nap with the whirlwind of thoughts pelting your mind.
You sat on the floor by the window, your eyes hitting the phone on the corner table of your room. You grabbed it swiftly, punching in a number that you’d known from memory since you were thirteen—
“Y/N?” Your mother said as soon as she picked up. She knew it was you. Your chest immediately felt tight, but after your earlier release, you knew you wouldn’t be able to hold back the tears that had begun to well once more.
“Hi, mother,” You replied, your voice coming out small and childlike compared to the usual headstrong tone you carried.
“Oh, my dear,” She knew you were crying; mothers could sense that kind of thing. “Has it sunk in?” She asked. The most you could do was nod as you felt sobs rise up from your chest. You let out a gasp, the breath catching in your throat, as you forced yourself to inhale.
“He’s really gone, isn’t he?”
As your mother’s silence drifted over the line, you knew she too had a colossal lump forming in her throat.
“Yes, baby. He’s gone.”
Mother and daughter wept together as the purple skies began to turn a dark pink. It was a moment you’d never imagined having with her, but as your tears fell you realised that it was your fault—it was your fault that you couldn’t imagine ever sharing something like this with her.
You’d shut her out, the same way as with your father, but even more so after his death. You’d been so caught up with your own stability that you hadn’t even thought about what your mother was properly going through.
You felt shameful, selfish, as you cried together down the phone, but as your tears began to slow you knew that you’d both be okay—
She had her sister, she had you.
And you had her—you had Benny.
You stayed on the phone with her for a while. As both of you let out your sadness together, you moved onto other topics; university, New York City life, the people you’d met. You told her about Benny; how he’d introduced you to Beth Harmon. You told her about Matt and how you were at Maude’s cabin—
You told her about playing chess.
“Really?” Your mother said, gobsmacked.
“I never mentioned it before,” You explained. “I sort of play now.”
“Sort of?” She questioned in her usual theatrical way. It made you chuckle.
“I mean—yes, I play,” You fiddled with the phone cord. “I’m sort of good.”
“Sort of?” Your mother repeated, but you could feel her smile from the other end of the line.
“Undefeated so far, actually.”
You moved your gaze to the door as you heard the familiar sound of Benny knocking. You placed the phone to your chest, yelling that he could come in. As Benny rounded the door you continued laughing on the phone with your mother and her reactions.
“Benny’s here right now, actually, Mum—,”
“Well, let me talk to him, then.” You sent an open-mouthed stare at the champion, before you stuck the phone out in front of him.
“It’s my mother. She wants to speak with you.”
You stood as Benny took the phone with an amused smile, placing it to his ear. You paced as you listened intently to his one-sided conversation with your mother—
“No, that’s okay, Mrs. L/N,”
“I got his note, yes. Y/N made sure of it,”
His stare hit your eyes as he went silent between sentences. You stopped pacing, breathing steadily as his lip curled into a gentle smile.
“Of course. It would be my pleasure.”
You didn’t have the chance to ask Benny what she’d said before he handed you back the phone and immediately left your room, clicking the door shut. You said your goodbyes to your mother. She wished you a happy birthday, not revealing anything of what they’d discussed together.
As you placed the phone down, you couldn’t stop yourself from grinning. It was ear to ear, encompassing your entire face. Your stomach tingled with butterflies, but they weren’t the ravenous type that made you feel sick; they were welcoming and warm. They were happy, and so were you.
Matt and Maude were back when you emerged into the living room. The three of them sat with glasses of red wine. Matt gave you a quizzical smile as you sat on the floor, pouring yourself a glass from the coffee table.
“What’s that smile for?”
You didn’t realise you’d still been beaming. “It’s been a good birthday,” You replied, taking a sip of wine.
“That’s what we like to hear,” Benny said. “No thought of the inevitability of death and getting older, then?’ He joked and you involuntarily rolled your eyes at him—it had become a habit.
“I just knew you’d be someone who hates birthdays.”
“Not all birthdays, just my own.” He replied. You were reminded of how shy he’d got at Monte’s on his 28th, hiding his small smile behind a clenched jaw and only giving into the shots because of the noise you’d all been making.
You glanced at the chess board on the floor, the pieces still fallen from when Benny had been thinking about your father’s chess piece. You reached out, grabbing the white king and placing it upright.
“Let’s play.” You said it with a finality that you’d never had before when it came to chess. You were usually never the one to suggest a game, yet you’d done it more than once while at the cabin.
As Benny sat opposite you and Matt rubbed his hands together in anticipation, you thought about the conversation you’d had after your breakdown—
I think this has been a long time coming.
You’d spent four months pushing down the inevitability of bursting. The sadness, the anger, the love—all bubbling inside you as you went about, day to day, trying desperately to ignore it. You’d see the back of your father’s head in crowds and get flashes of his casket as dirt was thrown upon it—you’d hear his voice in your classes and block your ears out from fear that he would approach you, sit, and ask you about chess.
But now—
You wished, more than anything, that he could have seen you—
Sat opposite a World Champion that he’d beaten more times than anyone, except Benny, could count; about to play against him for the umpteenth time—
And win.
-
Amanda called on Christmas day, screaming a carol down the phone as you, Matt and Benny winced. You drank eggnog for the first time in your life, almost immediately throwing it back up— “It feels like slime,” You stuttered, as Matt and Benny almost cried with laughter.
Maude made three pies, all a different flavour.
You all exchanged small gifts and cards, sat around a tree that Matt and Benny had chopped down three days before the 25th.
You didn’t ponder on the fact that it was your first Christmas away from your family—without your father. Instead, you’d talked, ate and drank all day, more than you thought you’d ever done in such a short time, simply enjoying the company, the landscape, the warmth.
You’d all decided to head back to the city before New Year’s, after Amanda had yelled down the phone about wanting to go to Monte’s and ‘enter the New Year in the right way.’
On the 27th, Benny’s Beetle was packed with all your belongings once more, as everyone stood on the porch to say goodbye.
Maude encased the champion in her arms, straightening out his hat when they pulled apart. “I’ll see you next year, dear,”
“Or earlier, if Matt would let me come here whenever I wanted.” Benny said, shooting a smirk at his best friend. Matt deposited himself between him and Maude, giving Benny a glare as he turned to give his mother a kiss on the cheek.
When it was your turn, Maude took both of your hands in hers, smiling with subtle sadness. “It’s been a pleasure, Y/N. I’ll be listening intently to the radio at tournaments, just in case your name is said,”
You laughed at that, appreciating in her sweet words. “We’ll see,” You replied, encasing Maude in a hug before you made your way to the car.
You were silent for most of the drive back, as a melancholy feeling washed over you. You knew, as you crossed the Brooklyn Bridge, that you’d never forget that month spent at Maude’s cabin. You’d learned more about yourself than you’d thought possible; you’d realised that Benny’s level of care and support for you was astronomical; you’d gelled with Matt even more than you had before Thanksgiving—
You felt loved, properly, actually loved.
You felt like you had a clear path of what was in front of you for the first time since leaving secondary school.
Benny dropped Matt at his apartment first. Matt waved goodbye as the Beetle trudged along the dark streets of lower Manhattan. There was a comfortable silence that flowed throughout the car, but as Benny approached your apartment block a feeling washed over you—
Sadness.
You were going to be sad, not waking up to him and Matt every morning. Not having a coffee with Maude as you looked out over the lake on another beautiful day—
God forbid, you were going to miss him—
Which was such a stupid thought that it almost made you laugh. He lived five blocks away from you—you saw each other multiple times each week and called almost every evening.
So why did you feel so sad?
Benny put the Beetle in park, but he didn’t turn to look at you. You could see him in your peripheral vision, just sitting, staring out beyond the windshield, thoughts racing beneath his skull.
You were the same, unmoving as you wracked your brain for something to say. When you finally spoke, it was at the exact same time as him—
“Do you—,” “What did—,” You each said in unison.
“You first,” He said, finally turning to face you. You sent him back the same stare.
“What did my mum say, on the phone call on my birthday?”
Benny let out a breathy chuckle, his eyes not leaving yours. “She asked me to take care of you, if or when you need it.” He said it so easily and clearly that you almost didn’t know what to say. You thought back to his response that day—Of course. It would be my pleasure.
For once, you embraced the warmth that began to spread in your chest. You let it run down your arms, your legs, your fingertips. You let it consume you as you kept your eyes plastered on his, a small smile curling onto your lips.
“Oh,” You chuckled out happily. It wasn’t a bad oh. It was one full of surprise, full of appreciation. “You go, now.”
Benny turned, placing his hand on the steering wheel and tapping it with his fingers. You knew that look—a wheel in the absence of a coffee mug. He was about to say something that he felt exposed about. You sat patiently, waiting for him to speak.
“Do you want to have dinner, before Monte’s on New Year’s Eve?” When he’d finished speaking, he looked back at you. It was the most gentle face you’d seen Benny adopt. His eyes were soft, his mouth was curled in the smallest of smiles. He didn’t look pressuring or scared—
He looked like Benny Watts. The World Champion chess player who had bombarded into your life in the saddest of circumstances, but had altered that life to be so full of light that you thought it might blind you one day.
“I’d love to.” You replied.
You didn’t look back as you made your way inside, even as you heard Benny shift gears and drive away, but you felt his stare on your back all the way to the entrance of your building. Subtle, but supportive. Not pressuring, or overly protective.
You dropped your bag on the floor as soon as you entered your apartment, your eyes immediately grazing upon the chessboard box on your windowsill. You strode forward, grabbing it and placing it on the floor in your living room. You opened the lid, grabbing your father’s board and placing it beside the clock.
You placed the pieces, all except for the black king. You plucked the king from your father’s last game from your pocket, staring at it as is gleamed back at you.
You placed it on his board, completing the full set.
You didn’t cry, or choke on your breath—
You simply smiled, as a comfortable aura settled over his board forevermore. |
"Are they close?"
The Throne Room, the imitation of her true seat was cold, empty, quiet. More would converge when she went to greet those joining her, but for now it was silent, for now it was just her, awaiting the arrival of her subjects, like any good Queen.
Queen, that was what she was, Queen across the water, and now come home, to conquer and be Queen here, and yet…
Yet, it hadn't been easy, there had been bloodshed and fire, but without laying waste to Westeros and all who lived in it, there was no easy victory. Even those coming to treat with her now had initially rebuffed her, but thankfully they'd come to fall in line, or so she assumed.
All of Westeros would fall to her eventually, it was her right, her destiny, and yet part of her longed-for home, the only home she'd ever known, not here, with the cold frigid air, the people who looked at her funny, the customs and traditions she didn't understand. Part of her longed for the Great Grass Sea, or the cobbled streets of Pentos, or the red door with the lemon tree, the one place she remembered feeling safe and free.
This may not have been home, but it was her destiny, her birth right, hers and that was more important.
"They are due to arrive within the hour your Grace" Greyworm said, and she offered a nod and nothing more, looking up at the throne she'd occupy when they arrived, made of slate and granite, not the true seat, not her seat.
But the Iron Throne would be hers soon, setbacks were just that, setbacks nothing permanent, soon she'd lay claim to what was hers, her right by fire and blood, and until then she would treat, gain allies, cultivate her following here.
And she'd start with the North.
"Make sure they are welcomed properly, they are guests" She paused then, glanced back at Varys, Tyrion and Missandei were overseeing preparations for their guest's arrival, and it stung they knew how to prepare better than she did. "But they are not yet our friends, so be cautious, and not too friendly"
They nodded, her true friends from across the sea and then she turned away again, she'd receive them here soon, as a Queen.
The one true Queen.
Dragonstone was impressive, he was loathe to admit.
A towering structure on the rock face, built in with high peaks, made from dark stone, jutting out impressively over the high rocks it stood on. It would be difficult to take by foot he noted, taking in every flaw, every little bit of the castle he could see, sieging it would be nigh impossible, especially as the one entrance seemed to be via bridge from the beach, without breaching that, assault would be suicide.
It wasn't the beauty Jon really noted, but he could see why it was considered impressive, why it had broken many men, how Stannis had kept it for over a year, living on rats and holding off invaders. The cliffs surrounding it offered shelter from the sea, and meant ships approaching would have little view of the island before landing, the choppy waters also made landing difficult. The Targaryen's had chosen wisely with this seat.
His ancestors he realised, almost with a flinch.
Like Sansa, like Arya, like all Northerners the South held little appeal to him, he was used to the snows of the North, of the coldness of Winterfell, the untamed rugged feel to the land. Even Sansa who'd once longed for the South now looked upon it with disdain, it wasn't where they belonged.
Where they belonged, as Starks they didn't, but what about him? Half Stark, half Targaryen, half North, half South, one foot in both, but not completely in either.
Now was not the time for a crisis of faith, though he felt he'd been having one since he'd known, since he'd been told the truth he in some part wished had been kept a secret.
"What an unpleasant place" Sansa said with a wrinkle of her nose, so no, she didn't feel any connection to it, he wished he didn't but there was something there, something thrumming to him as they landed at the beach.
He may be a Targaryen, but he was also a Stark, at least in part, the North was his home, and Winterfell held far more pull than the seat of the Targaryens.
"Too many stairs?" He teased, somehow getting out a joke, possibly in panic, he knew he needed to keep it together here, and his face betrayed nothing, he was good at that.
"Don't or I'll make you carry me" Sansa chided, but she accompanied it with a grin as the rowboat reached the shores, their actual boat stood further back (and another hidden far out to shore), though 5 row boats had accompanied them to the sand, him, and Sansa, though Arya had slunk away, 20 men accompanied them to the shore.
Sansa had told him they needed to show strength, and as he took her hand and helped her onto ground, and saw their greeting party, easily 20 strong itself, he knew she was right.
He had the head for strategy, for tactics, and some for politics, but she the head for diplomacy, but also manipulation and cunning.
Jon was the sword, Sansa the shield, he the mind at the table, she the scheming behind closed doors.
A perfect complement to one another.
He knew he couldn't have done this without her and offered her a smile as they stepped onto sand. His internal crisis could wait, would have to wait, they had a job to do here, and he wouldn't let Sansa down.
Jon took a quick note of the men they greeted, Dothraki, mercenaries, some Westerosi soldiers, all carrying arms. He was thankful for Longclaw at his hip, and Northern steel at his men's.
"The bastard of Winterfell" A voice rung out then, Tyrion Lannister, how he had moved in the world, though he supposed they both had, and Jon even managed a smile as he returned.
"The dwarf of Casterley Rock" He responded, and then they both smiled, before Jon stepped forward to shake hands. He hoped Tyrion's appointment would make things easier, especially as he eyed the Hand of the Queen badge at his lapel, but he practically heard Sansa chiding him not to let his guard down, not here, not ever.
"I believe we last saw each other at top of the Wall" Tyrion responded, grasping his hand in turn.
"You were pissing off the edge if I remember right" Jon was no dab hand, but he knew how to converse diplomatically, a skill he'd picked up at the Wall, "Picked up some scars along the way"
"It's been a long road" Tyrion said, face more serious then and Jon nodded, aye it had been, "But we're both still here" He paused then, and seemed to take in who was next to him though Jon wasn't fooled, Tyrion was too shrewd not to have noticed Sansa next to him.
"Or should I say all three of us are here" He said, and his smile seemed genuine, Jon resisted the urge to step closer to Sansa though, for that would give something away, and what had Sansa always impressed upon him?
'Don't ever give anything away'
She'd taught him much, he liked to think he had done the same for her, he guessed they would find out.
Seeing Jon in action was quite something, away from Winterfell, away from their men, put to the test, and she only kept her smile away through habit, through locking her walls back in place.
The walls she'd developed at Kings Landing, made of ice, hiding her true feelings, masking who she was, courtesies to fend off any question of her loyalty or anyone trying to do her harm, she hadn't thought she'd need them again, though she supposed in a sense they'd never truly gone away.
Except for with her family, and even then … maybe only Jon saw her without them.
But here they were firmly in place and would remain so until she stepped back into Winterfell, where the Starks would be waiting; that thought filled her with hope, though that was a dangerous thing to have.
"All three of us indeed" Sansa responded, she knew her place here, she would observe, step in where necessary but she would not give away her place by Jon's side, the less the enemy knew about them the better.
She should laugh at herself, what had Cersei said to Joffrey once? As she'd overheard, and had gotten the impression it had been said many times before?
'Anyone who isn't us is the enemy'
For once she sympathised with Cersei, what a horror.
"May I introduce my sister" Jon piped up then, and she almost nudged him with a smile, he was good at this, even in the formality she knew he hated, "Sansa Stark, the Lady of Winterfell"
"My Lord" She bowed her head, as was appropriate for the Hand of the Queen, something she'd taken in but took in stride, as was necessary.
"The Lady of Winterfell, it has a nice ring to it" Tyrion said, and she offered a smile, not a warm one, or a kind one, but a smile.
"So does Hand of the Queen" She said with a nod to his badge, and his smile was realer, but she wasn't fooled, she'd gotten good at this, deception, and subterfuge, he'd always been good, "Depending on the Queen I suppose" She added, there was some bite to her politics after all.
"Hmm, I'm Tyrion Lannister" He said then, louder, glancing over her shoulder to Ser Davos who stood behind them, evidently to move the conversation along.
"Davos Seaworth" Jon's Hand said as he stepped forwards, and again they shook hands.
"Ahh, the Onion Knight" Lord Tyrion said, and Sansa smiled, she was watching everything, as was her place here. "We fought on opposite sides at the Battle of Blackwater Bay"
"Unluckily for me" Ser Davos said in good nature, and Sansa bit her tongue, she wouldn't comment on what had happened in Kings Landing, not yet at least, as much as she wanted to.
Petyr had taught her that, sometimes she may want to say something, feel an urge like no other, it didn't mean she should act on it;
'No matter how tempting you don't do what you want, but what makes you win'
Part of her wanted to hate the lessons he had given her, that they were branded on her brain, the other part wanted to keep them close, remember them forever, if it ensured her families, if it ensured hers and Jon's safety.
"Thank you for having us" Sansa said before anyone else could speak, keen to have their introduction take precedence, "We apologise for the delay, the journey from the North is long" She paused then, smiled, though it like everything in her words was faked, "It is good to see you all, and you again my Lord" She said with a nod to Tyrion.
"The last time we saw one another was at Joffrey's wedding was it not?" He asked then, but he knew of course, "A miserable affair" Better, Tyrion was a schemer yes, but had some good to him, like Jon, maybe like her.
"It had its moments" She quipped back, and his smile was true then and hers was for a flash too.
"Though, apologies for leaving like that" She continued, though she didn't mean it, it was the right thing to say.
"Yes, it was difficult to explain" Tyrion said with a nod, there he'd said the right thing to, the push and pull was the game, once before when she'd been what Tyrion wouldn't call her; his wife, she'd been a pawn, now she was a player.
She did shrug though, and the respect in her eyes for Tyrion was real, "We both survived"
And they had indeed.
Tyrion turned then, and she could see her expression mirrored in his, even as he had to move it along, looked at the woman stood by his side, "Missandei is the Queens most trusted advisor" The woman nodded and smiled then and Sansa returned it, neither held true warmth.
"Welcome to Dragonstone" Missandei said, her tone rigid, her words rehearsed, "Our Queen knows this is a long journey, she appreciates the efforts you've made on her behalf" A pause, something else was coming, "If you wouldn't mind handing over your weapons"
She noted Jon paused then, looked around, an eyebrow raised, this wasn't unexpected but still unwelcome, though he took it in stride, even smiled, one as false as hers, she felt proud, "Of course"
But Sansa paused herself, as the Dothraki stepped forward to rid them of them, "Of course, though King Jon will keep his, as is the right of any monarch in foreign lands" She said quickly, crisply, confidence was half of the fight, and she then offered a tight smile, like the one Missandei had given her, two could play that game, "The same as Ser Davos, as his hand, the men will of course hand theirs over"
It was their turn to pause then, and she caught an almost imperceptible nod from Tyrion, and so when the Dothraki took weapons, and their rowboats, they didn't take Jon's, nor Ser Davos', nor the dagger strapped to her thigh, not that she'd wanted it…
'Take this' Arya insisted as Dragonstone came into view, a dagger in hand, a pretty one, the hilt grey and black, the point sharp enough to slice through almost anything by the looks.
'Why I don't need that' Sansa said, she was no fighter, that was not where her value lay.
'Just in case' Arya said, and then as Sansa didn't move sighed and pressed it into her hand.
'I don't know how to use it' Sansa admitted, she'd never had cause to, for her a dagger had been the least effective of weapons open to her.
'Stick them with the pointy end'
And she would, if necessary.
With a nod they then made their way forwards, Ser Davos fell into step with Missandei, but Sansa remained walking with Jon, she didn't intend to leave his side, not here, not in foreign lands, with people they would call enemy.
'Everyone who isn't us is an enemy'
It still rung true. |
He slips out of bed early in the morning, right after dawn. He takes a second at the door to look back at Geralt’s sleeping form, his white hair fanning over the pillow, lips slightly parted and legs tangled in the sheets. He’s as beautiful as ever.
He closes the door behind him quietly, tying the ribbon of the robe he brought with him around his waist, bare feet padding along the stone floor, the cold seeping into his skin, though he doesn’t mind it too much.
He remembers the first morning he spent within the walls of Kaer Morhen, he remembers getting lost and ending up in the destroyed west wing. By now, though, he knows enough about the layout of the keep not to get lost. No, this time, he heads for the west wing with a purpose: to find Vesemir.
He shivers slightly as the cold creeps up his legs, raising goosebumps in its wake, and he tucks his hands into his armpits, basking in the short bursts of pale sunlight he walks through every time he passes a window. The sun is rising slowly, the sky above Kaer Morhen turning red and golden. It won’t be long until breakfast.
As he walks, the stones around him become more and more worn, pieces of them chipped away by long-rusted weapons, parts of the windows lost to time and violence, an occasional door shattered, only the last splinters of them visible on their hinges, dust billowing around him with every step he takes.
And finally, he finds it: the worn wooden door he’d discovered on his first day. The one that leads to the west tower. There are long scratches in the wood, as if someone’s tried to get in using their sword, the stones around it equally damaged. To his left, a hallway stretches out, the end of it hidden in shadows.
And now that he’s back, he notices something about the door he didn’t see the first time: the hinges are rusted. The lock, however, is not.
He stretches his hand out towards the knob, the cool metal chilling his fingertips to the bone and-
“Jaskier! What are you doing here?”
He smiles in satisfaction before turning to the left, to where Vesemir is briskly walking towards him, brow furrowed in confusion.
“I’m looking for you.”
Vesemir envelops his shoulders with his warm hands, and Jaskier shivers, only now truly feeling the cold. “Well, here I am. You’re freezing, little bard, let’s get you in front of a fire.”
He follows the older Witcher through the hallways, less and less dust coating his bare feet the closer they get to the main hall. Their walk is quiet, and Jaskier idly hums a melody to himself, before he suddenly remembers that elvish poem he read, about a week ago.
We meet them at the doorway, on the stair,Along the passages they come and go,Impalpable impressions on the air,A sense of something moving to and fro.
Eventually, though, they reach the kitchen, and Vesemir lights the hearth with a quick Igni, busying himself with filling the teapot and putting it over the fire before cutting a few slices of bread, setting the plate down in front of Jaskier.
“Thank you, Vesemir.”
“Hmm.” Jaskier smiles to himself. He can see where Geralt got his usual manner of communication. “What were you doing out there, little bard?”
“Like I said, I was looking for you.”
“You should know I wouldn’t be in the west tower. I told you it’s dangerous in there.”
“I know. But I knew you’d try to stop me. I knew I’d find you that way.”
Vesemir sighs, looking at him for a few moments, concern furrowing his brow. “Well, you got lucky. What if I hadn’t seen you trying to enter the tower? What if I hadn’t been there?”
He leans his chin on his hand. He’s had a hunch about this ever since he talked with Wilgrum, and the fact that he managed to find Vesemir this way seems to have confirmed it, but still, he’s not entirely certain about it. If he gets it wrong, he’ll make a fool out of himself. If he doesn’t… well…
“You know what I find strange?” he asks, and Vesemir pulls an eyebrow up.
“Tell me, little bard, what do you find strange?”
He chews on his bottom lip a bit. “Well, you seem like a brave and honourable man – at least, from what I’ve gathered over the past week and from all the stories Geralt’s told me about you. So why’d you run and hide? During the sacking of Kaer Morhen, I mean.”
Vesemir closes his eyes for a second, before turning around, taking the teapot off the fire and busying himself with making the tea, his back turned to Jaskier. “I chickened out. That’s all there is to say about that.”
“But I don’t think you did.” Vesemir’s muscles tense as he leans his palms on the countertop, head hanging between his shoulders. “I think you didn’t run and hide. I think you stood your ground.”
“I didn’t,” Vesemir says without any bite, without any conviction.
Jaskier stands from the table, walking around it to lean his hip against the countertop next to Vesemir, arms folded in front of his chest.
“I think,” he says quietly, “that you fought. Until the very end.”
Vesemir doesn’t meet his eye, hands trembling where they’re braced against the countertop.
“That west tower isn’t about to crumble apart, is it? That’s just something you’ve told your sons because you don’t want them to find your body.”
It’s quiet for a while, the silence hanging thick and heavy in the kitchen, almost palpable. And Jaskier hopes. He hopes he’s wrong, that Vesemir will call him an idiot for saying such things and that he’ll tell Jaskier that the ghosts of Kaer Morhen aren’t real and he’s certainly not one of them, thank you very much.
“Don’t tell them,” Vesemir says instead, and Jaskier’s heart stops for half a second.
“I won’t,” he promises, trying to ignore the tightness in his chest. “But… why? Why didn’t you tell them? Why’d you…”
“Lead them on? Make them believe a lie?” Vesemir sighs, shakes his head before wiping a hand over his face. “After…” he sighs again “after… the sacking- after I died, I knew I had become one of them, one of the ghosts-“
“So you knew about them? Before, I mean.”
Vesemir scoffs lightly. “It wasn’t a secret, back in the old days. Everyone here knew that no one ever truly leaves the Walls of Kaer Morhen as long as it’s their home. Back then, they walked among us, and if suddenly a new ghost appeared, we knew we had to find a Witcher’s body somewhere on the Path. It was common knowledge: you live on the Path, you die on the Path, you return home, you get to spend as much time here as you want, and if you’re ready to go, then you go.”
“Go? Go where?”
“Honestly, little bard? I don’t know. Some used to say you’d become part of the walls of Kaer Morhen, others said that you would become pure Chaos. We just called it ‘fading’.” He shrugs. “Either way, after the sacking, I was… numb. In shock. And I walked the halls, mourning my brothers and the children that were killed and suddenly… I saw Eskel.
“He’d returned home for the winter, only to find it completely destroyed, coated in the blood of his family. And he saw me, standing right there in the rubble. ‘Oh, thank the gods, at least someone survived,’ he said- he looked so relieved, little bard. And then Lambert arrived, and then Geralt, and the entire time we were cleaning up the keep and burning the bodies, all they could say was: ‘At least old Vesemir survived. At least we’re not alone.’”
The older Witcher shakes his head. “I didn’t have the heart to tell them. So I replaced the ruined lock on the west tower and told them the structure was about to fall apart, and I prayed to all the gods that they would never discover my body.”
“But… but you have to tell them at some point, don’t you?”
“Tell who what?” He turns around at Lambert’s voice, finding the younger wolf standing in the doorway to the kitchen.
He looks at Vesemir, sees the older Witcher pale and shake his head. “That we’re running out of White Gull,” the older Witcher lies, and Jaskier feels his eyes widen. “I dropped some of the bottles.”
Lambert clenches his jaw, looking annoyed, before he composes himself, shrugging as he sits down at the table, pulling Jaskier’s still-full plate towards himself. “So be it. Was that why you were hiding from us? Because you didn’t have the guts to tell us?”
“Tell us what?” This time it’s Eskel and Geralt who are standing in the doorway, making their way into the kitchen.
“Vesemir’s smashed some bottles of White Gull. We’re running out,” Lambert supplies.
“Hmm. So be it,” Geralt says, crossing the kitchen to stand in front of Jaskier. “How are you feeling?” he asks softly, one hand coming up to rest on Jaskier’s shoulder, but he bats it away.
“Seriously?” he asks Vesemir, and the older wolf has the decency to look ashamed. “Seriously? So you’re just going to say nothing, once again? You’re just going to keep lying to everyone and pretend it’s all rainbows and sunshine?”
Vesemir straightens and looks Jaskier in the eye, something in his face hardening. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, little bard. I think your mind is playing tricks on you again.”
He bristles, skin flushing red-hot with anger, hands trembling with suppressed rage as he points a finger at the Witcher. “No. No, you don’t get to do that. You don’t get to tell me everything only to tell everyone else that I’m insane just because you’re too scared to tell the truth.” He laughs without mirth, anger flaring up again. “You know what? Lambert’s right. You are a coward.”
He turns around, shoving Geralt’s concerned hand out the way once more, stalking out of the kitchen and slamming the door behind him for good measure.
Back in his room, he grabs his bag from the bottom of the wardrobe, snatching neatly folded clothes off the shelves and stuffing them haphazardly into the bag.
“Where are you going, little bard?” Wulgrim’s reedy voice asks behind him.
“Away,” Jaskier replies shortly. “I’ve had fucking enough of this place. I’m going to Oxenfurt and I’m going to drink Toussaint wine with normal, civilized, living people until I can’t even remember the name Kaer Morhen.”
“Look out the window, little bard-“
“My name is not little bard, you fucking-“
“It’s snowing. It’s a suicide mission for a human like you to go down the Killer now. It’ll be the death of you, little bard.”
He huffs, whirling around to face the dead Witcher. “So be it! I can’t stay in this place one fucking second longer! Everyone thinks me some insane person, and Geralt won’t stop looking at me like I’m about to snap and lose my mind completely, and Vesemir keeps fucking denying everything, because he’s too much of a coward to come clean!”
He’s shouting by the end of his sentence, panting slightly as a red-hot blush spreads across his face and neck, making his ears glow.
Wulgrim doesn’t seem to impressed and nods. “Alright. If you really want to leave Kaer Morhen, then go ahead. Break your neck when you slip in the snow, if that’s what you really want. But at least tell Elias why you’re leaving. He won’t understand unless you do.”
Something cold washes over Jaskier like a bucket of well water, as he remembers the little boy that burrowed his way into Jaskier’s heart. Gods, how could he forget?
He nods slowly, taking some clothes from his bag – he’s still in his bloody robe, for the love of the gods – mind a bit scattered as he realizes that he’ll have to leave the little one behind.
When he looks at the chair in the corner again, Wulgrim’s gone.
Jaskier takes his bag and lute case, casting one last look around the room to see if he hasn’t forgotten anything, before setting out into the halls of Kaer Morhen, one last time.
He finds the alcove room without much trouble, and sets his things down on one of the beds closest to the door, shutting it quietly behind him. His footsteps bounce off the walls, the only sound in the quiet room besides his own breathing, as he slowly walks to the bench, lowering himself down on it, pulling the blanket that’s lying there around his shoulders.
He sighs and closes his eyes. “Elias?” he says softly. “Are you there?”
It’s quiet for a few seconds as he waits patiently for that little voice to reach his ears, smiling when it finally does. “Is the scary man gone, mister Jaskier?”
He opens his eyes, finding little Elias in front of him, looking up at Jaskier with big, brown eyes.
“What scary man, Elias?”
The boy takes a hesitant step towards him and Jaskier reaches out to hook his hands under the boy’s armpits, lifting him into his lap, where Elias curls up against his chest, burying his face in Jaskier’s shoulder.
“The one with the white hair,” he mumbles, before sticking his thumb into his mouth, the other hand playing with Jaskier’s fingers. “He made you upset.”
Jaskier sighs, pulling the boy close and burying his nose in those soft curls. “It’s alright, Elias,” he says gently, “Geralt’s a friend. He didn’t hurt me and he’s not going to hurt you, either.”
He sits there for a while, Elias in his lap, hugging the boy to his chest tightly. He’s loathe to admit it, but he doesn’t want to go. He doesn’t want to leave the little one behind, doesn’t want to part with the warmth in and against his chest. He’s tired of feeling cold and he’s tired of letting go.
“Mister Jaskier?” his little one asks, and something cracks in Jaskier’s heart when he realizes he’s come to think of Elias as his little one.
“Hmm?” He doesn’t trust his voice not to break, so he hums his question instead.
“Can… can you sing a song?”
He smiles softly, gently carding his fingers through those black curls, resting his cheek on the top of Elias’ head. “Of course, baby. Let me think of something.”
He closes his eyes, gently rocking them both back and forth, as he softly starts to sing a song he remembers his mother singing for him when he was younger.
“You are my sunshine. My only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are grey.”
He squeezes his eyes shut, the corners of his mouth pulling down when frustration and grief hit him like a wave, tears almost spilling over. He doesn’t want to go. He doesn’t want to leave Elias behind.
“You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you.” His arms shake as they hold Elias close to him, chest aching as he tries to keep in a sob. “Please don’t take my sunshine away.”
“Mister Jaskier?” Elias whispers, and Jaskier can only nod. “I don’t have a papa.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Can… can you be mine?”
The tears finally spill over, and he nods, pulling back slightly to kiss the boy’s cheek, his nose, his forehead, and finally, his soft curls. “Of course, baby. Of course I’ll be your papa. I love you so, my little Elias.”
He smiles at his little boy, cradling his chubby face in his hands as Elias smiles back. He kisses the boy’s forehead again, pulling him close, rocking them both back and forth as he starts humming.
“Jaskier? Jaskier!” He hears his name echo through the hall in several voices, most of them distant, one closer by.
Elias stirs. “Papa, is that the scary man again?”
Jaskier rubs a soothing hand up and down the boy’s back, pulling the blanket closer around both of them like a shield against the non-existent. “It is the man with the white hair, yes. But he’s my friend, baby. He won’t hurt either of us.” He looks at his boy as he tucks a wayward curl behind his ear. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. I’ll never let anything bad happen to you.”
“Promise?”
He nods. “Promise,” he whispers, before tucking Elias back under his chin, resuming his humming. After a few seconds, Elias starts to hum along with him.
“Jaskier!” The door to the room opens, Geralt visibly relaxing when he sees Jaskier, before his eyes drift down to look at Elias, who turns his head slightly to peek at the Witcher, quickly burying his face in Jaskier’s chest when he sees Geralt looking.
But, unlike the other times, he stays, a solid weight in Jaskier’s lap, his curls tickling his chin, his breath puffing against his neck.
“Papa,” Elias whimpers softly, though Jaskier knows it’s loud enough for Geralt to hear, as amber eyes snap back up to his face, wide and disbelieving and soft and hurt.
“It’s okay, baby,” Jaskier whispers, pressing his cheek to the side of Elias’ face, looking at Geralt, still. “Papa’s here, papa’s got you.”
Slowly, he reaches his arm out and Geralt walks forward cautiously, eyes flicking between Jaskier and the little boy in his lap, wide as if he still has a rough time believing what he’s seeing. Not that Jaskier blames him.
Geralt takes his hand, kneeling in front of him and the boy, and Jaskier smiles at him as he runs his thumb along his Witcher’s knuckles.
“Elias?” he whispers. “Can you say hello to papa’s friend?”
Slowly, Elias turns his head to look at Geralt with one eye. “Hi,” he whispers, voice small, and something in Jaskier’s heart melts when Geralt smiles softly.
“Hi,” he says gently. “I’m Geralt. Nice to meet you, Elias.”
The boy mumbles something, before burying his face in Jaskier’s chest again. Jaskier smiles, rubbing small circles into Elias’ back. “Baby, can I tell Geralt what you told me yesterday?” Elias nods and Jaskier looks at Geralt. “Elias told me he was sick for a while. He said that one master Thomasden told master Vesemir that Elias wouldn’t make it until the morning. Isn’t that right, baby?”
Elias nods. “But I felt better in the morning.”
“He felt better in the morning,” Jaskier repeats, one eyebrow pulled up at Geralt. Please, he quietly begs in his head, please understand what I’m trying to tell you.
And then Geralt’s eyes widen a fraction. “Elias?” he asks softly. “You seem like a smart boy.”
Elias turns his face to look at Geralt, nodding a bit.
“Can you tell me what year it is?”
“Eleven… nine,” Elias whispers.
“Eleven hundred and nine?” The boy nods, and when Geralt looks at Jaskier, he knows that his Witcher understands. Gods, Jaskier wonders to himself, has Elias really been here for over a hundred years?
“Well done, baby,” he whispers instead, “you’re so smart.”
Elias mumbles something and yawns, looping his stubby arms around Jaskier’s neck, burying his face into his shoulder and drooling all over his doublet as his breathing deepens, brown eyes fluttering closed, slipping into sleep.
“Jaskier…” Geralt whispers. “Is… is he… he said… and he called you papa.”
He smiles softly, gently petting Elias’ curls. “Hmm. Seems like he’s adopted me. Not that I mind, of course.”
“I can’t smell him. And the year…”
“You finally understand, don’t you?”
Geralt looks at Elias, reaching a hand out to softly touch the boy’s hair, only to have it go through him entirely. “I… I think I do,” he whispers. “Jask, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I didn’t believe you.”
“But you did,” Jaskier says gently. “You just didn’t believe what I saw was real.”
“But it is. I’m sorry.”
He smiles. “It’s alright. I wouldn’t believe me, either.” He sighs, shifting Elias’ weight in his lap slightly. “So now what? I’m sure that if we tell Eskel, he’ll believe us, but Lambert… I don’t know about him.”
“So you’re… you’re staying?”
His eyes drift to his bag and lute, both on the bed closest to the door, and he sighs, arms tightening around his little one slightly. “I suppose so. No use in leaving now, too. The Killer would… well, kill me if I did.”
One corner of Geralt’s mouth pulls up. “Since when are you an expert on the Killer?”
He scoffs. “Well, they don’t call it the Killer for no reason.” He doesn’t mention Wulgrim just yet – maybe he’ll tell Geralt about that later.
He sighs, standing up. The blanket slides off his shoulder and he lets out a small discontented sound in disappointment as the warmth disappears.
Geralt hums, bending down to pick the blanket up, draping it around Jaskier and Elias, tying a knot with two of the corners so that it’ll stay in place. “There we go,” he mutters before kissing Jaskier softly. “Perfect. You’re perfect.”
“Look who’s talking.”
“I changed my mind, you’re too cheesy to be perfect,” Geralt mumbles against his lips and Jaskier laughs.
“Oh, please, I know you love me, Witcher.”
Geralt’s face goes soft, grin melting into something unbelievably fond. “I do. I do love you, Jask. More than anything.”
“I love you too, Geralt,” he whispers. “I would love to say more than anything, too, but I’m afraid our little Elias has burrowed his way into my heart quite deeply.”
“Hmm. I can live with that.”
“So now what?”
Geralt hums again, brows twitching together slightly. “We… we have to tell the others, don’t we? Because they still think you’re insane.”
He sighs softly, tucking a strand of white hair behind Geralt’s ear. “That’s up to you, love. I can live with them thinking that I’m crazy. It’s up to you to decide whether you want to tell them or not.”
Geralt takes a few seconds to think, amber eyes drifting to Elias as he lifts his hand to try to touch the boy again. His fingers go right through him. “You’re… you’re holding him,” he mumbles, “but I can’t even touch him. Why?”
Jaskier sighs. “I don’t know. I really don’t.”
“I want to tell them,” Geralt says suddenly. “I want to tell Eskel and Lambert and Vesemir. They deserve to know.”
Jaskier doesn’t mention that Vesemir doesn’t need to be told about this anymore, and simply nods. “Let’s go, then.” |
Last time, the Straw Hat Pirates were dealing with a bit of a food shortage when they came across a mysterious island. As they approach, Luffy spotted a shadowy creature flying around in the air, but decided to dismiss it as nothing. However, little does he realize that this creature was going to be like nothing he had ever encountered before. Upon reaching the island, Luffy, as usual, was the first to jump off the ship and make landfall before the others, but soon, Usopp, Chopper, Franky, Blizzard, Aika, and Kumi followed after him by jumping off the railing (though Usopp ended up unceremoniously landing on his face). The rest of the crew just walked off the gangplank in an orderly fashion. It was then that they got a good look at the surroundings: all they found was a sandy beach, and beyond that was a lush, green forest full of trees and other plant-life. "Ooh~!" Luffy exclaimed with Aika sitting on his shoulders. "Look at the big, pretty forest!" Aika exclaimed. "You think there might be a town here?" asked Usopp. "Never hurts to look," Nami replied. "Even if we don't find a town," Sanji began, "look at how huge and green this forest is! It's sure to be bountiful!" "Maybe I can get some hunting done," Blizzard added. "I think it's best if we split up into groups," Nami said. "Let's see, who should go with whom?" "Umm...hey, Nami?" Zoro asked. "Before you do that..." "Don't tell me," Nami replied with a deadpan expression. "Luffy and Aika went off somewhere, AGAIN, right?" "Pretty much," Zoro confirmed as he looked to the forest where he saw the D. Siblings disappear, and that only made Nami sigh in exasperation. "Right..." she muttered. "I'm not surprised," Kumi said. "Luffy's rubbed off on Aika so much, that I don't get too worked up about it anymore." "Well, we know what we have to do," Nami said. "Yep," the rest of the Straw Hats answered. "Blizzard, you go on ahead and sniff them out for us, okay?" Nami asked. "Howl if you find them." Blizzard nodded his head before he ran off, and the rest of the Straw Hats soon followed after him. However, as they did...they didn't seem to notice that they were being watched from behind.XXX "WHOO-HOO~!!" Luffy hollered as he swung through the trees using his rubbery arms while Aika clung to his back. "Whee~!!" Aika cheered. "We're flying!" Both D. Siblings laughed as they flew through the air before Luffy perched himself on a branch, like a monkey. "Hmm..." Luffy hummed as he scanned his surroundings. "Let's see what we can find out here." "Big Brother, look over there!" Aika piped up as she pointed to a tree with branches full of red, ripe, juicy apples. "Ooh!" Luffy chirped as he leaped toward the tree, landing on one of the limbs, before he reached up, plucked two apples from the branch, and handed one to Aika, who happily took it in her hands, rubbed it on her shirt, and took a bite. "Mmm~!" she hummed, savoring the sweet, sticky juices as she chewed it up. "So good!" "You got that right," Luffy said as he hastily ate his apple and left nothing but the core. He then continued to eat several more of the red fruits and dropped the cores onto the ground, accumulating quite a pile. "Hey, Big Brother," Aika started, "what if we brought some back for Sanji?" "What do you mean?" Luffy asked with his mouth full. "Well, think of all the nice, yummy treats he could make with them!" Aika answered. "Apple pie, apple tarts, apple turnovers, apple fritters, apple crumble..." "Shishishishishi!" Luffy laughed. "Okay, okay, you made your point! Let's bring some back so Sanji can make some desserts with them!" On that, the D. Siblings soon began picking the apples and stuffing them in their backpacks. Of course, they remembered to leave some for any forest animals that would like to have some for a snack. "Luffy! Aika!" "Huh?" the D. Siblings muttered before they noticed Nami and the others down below. "So this where you guys ran off to," Franky said. "What are you picking all those apples for?" Sanji asked. "So you can make apple pie and other stuff!" Aika answered. "It was Aika's idea!" Luffy pointed. "Hmm..." Sanji mused, putting a finger to his chin in thought. "Maybe that's not a bad idea." "I wouldn't mind an apple pie, once in a while," Brook spoke up. "Sounds good to me," Nami smiled. "Yeah, me too!" Chopper piped up. "I love apple pie!" "Count me out," Zoro said. "I'm not one for sweets." "Oh, really?" Robin asked. "You seemed pretty sweet on me, two nights ago." "...Come on, Robin..." Zoro grumbled with a blush on his cheeks, causing everyone to laugh. However, as they were enjoying the humorous moment, Aika seemed to spot something out of the corner of her eye. At first, she thought nothing of it, but then she did a double-take...and she gasped silently when she saw a familiar black-haired woman wearing a sparkling red dress and a dragonfly hair clip. Aika's eyes went wide before she climbed down from the tree and began to walk off in the direction she had spotted the woman, but Kumi, ever watchful of her best friend, quickly got in her way. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait, wait, wait!" Kumi exclaimed. "It's my Mommy!" Aika piped up. "I saw her! She's over..." As she looked in the direction she saw the woman...she gasped when she found nothing. "...Huh...? But...but she was..." "Oh, no, not this again," Nami muttered, sympathetically. "The poor kid," Franky added. "Aika," Robin said. "We've been over this...your mother is gone. She's not coming back, ever...you saw her die." "But...I swear I saw her!" Aika argued. "I know I did!" "Aika, there's nobody there," Nami assured. "Come on, let's head back to the ship. Maybe you need a nap." "I don't need a nap!" Aika shouted. "Oh, boy," Luffy mumbled. "I didn't think having a little sister would be this much of a hassle. You know what I mean, right, Blizzard? You got five of them." No answer. "Uh...Blizzard?" Luffy asked. "Hello? Am I talking to myself, here?" He turned to look at the wolf-dog...who was staring off in another direction. "Blizzard? Hello?" Luffy asked. "Yo! Did you hear me?" A pause...but then, without a single warning, Blizzard just bolted off, to everyone's surprise. "What the hell?!" Zoro questioned. "What got into him, all of a sudden?!!" "Blizzard?!" Luffy asked as he began to chase after him. "H-hey, buddy, where you goin'?!" "Blizzard, come back, boy!" Nami called as she and the rest of the Straw Hats began to give chase. "Stay! Heel!!" But Blizzard just kept running, darting around trees and jumping over rocks and bushes. "Jeez, what is going on, today?!" Usopp asked. "Hell if I know!" Franky replied. "Blizzard!" Luffy called. "Buddy, slow down! You're going too fast! We can't keep up!!" Try as they might, the Straw Hats were no match for Blizzard's superior speed and agility. In a matter of just ten seconds, they had lost sight of their faithful guard dog, and soon, they were forced to stop to catch their breath. "So...fast...!" Aika rasped, sitting next to Kumi. "I don't get it," Luffy said. "Blizzard's never run off like that, before!" "Maybe he saw a squirrel or something," Sanji mused. "Squirrel?!" Kumi questioned as she looked around in excitement. "Where?! Where?!!" "There's no squirrel, Kumi," Chopper answered. "Oh," Kumi muttered, sounding a bit disappointed. "But don't you think it's kind of strange?" Robin asked. "First, Aika said that she saw her mother and she was about to run off after this...whoever it was she saw." "Yes, and now, Mister Blizzard's run off, too," Brook concurred. "...You know something?" Sanji asked. "I actually have this sneaking suspicion that we're possibly being watched." The Straw Hats gasped silently before they glanced at each other, some nervous, others looking serious before Luffy glanced in the direction that Blizzard had run off to. "We gotta hurry and find Blizzard," he said before he began to run, and soon, the others followed, hoping that their ship's guard would be all right.XXX Blizzard panted as he stood at the edge of a cliff...staring down at a huge, barren crater in the heart of the forest...no...more like the heart of the island itself. The earth was dry and cracked, littered with rocks, blackened, gnarled trees, dead grass...and if he were to lok a bit closer, he would make out the scattered bones of humans. Anybody in their right mind would turn back the moment they saw this place, and Blizzard would definitely be one of them...if had not been for one thing. '...Why?' he thought. 'Why...did I see him?' A brief flashback showed that Blizzard had spotted a Husky dog with brown fur, a white muzzle, underbelly, and legs...and wearing a blue collar around his neck with a Marine dog tag on it. The ashen-furred wolf-dog shook his head, trying to bring himself back to reality. 'No...that can't be him,' thought Blizzard. 'After all...he's dead...he's been dead since 2 years ago...and I know that because...because...' Another brief flashback showed Blizzard at Marineford, two years ago...his jaws clamping down on the neck of that same dog, who was missing his ear and his eye. A beat passed...but then Blizzard sighed and swallowed the lump in his throat. He then turned to look back at the forest from which he had emerged and remembered that in his haste to chase the dog...he had accidentally left Luffy and the others in the dust. 'Crap,' he cursed, mentally. 'I know I'm gonna get an earful from Nami when I get back.' However, as he turned to leave, he gasped as the ground suddenly gave way and crumbled beneath his feet. Blizzard tried to climb up and over the edge before he could fall, but it was no use. He soon plummeted to the dirt, but thankfully, due to his resilience, he didn't really suffer any major injuries. If anything, he had gotten a small scrape. He groaned as he stood up and shook his head, then stood up to get a look at his surroundings. 'Great,' he thought before he began to walk. 'Well, I won't find a way out if I just stand here.' "You need to leave this place." "Well, what do you think I'm doing?" Blizzard asked...before he made a noise of slight surprise. "Wait...what? Who said that?" "Over here." Blizzard looked back...but he saw nothing. "Above you." The wolf-dog looked up and found, to his surprise, the white cat that was standing on the beach, sitting in a tree. "What the...?" Blizzard muttered. "A cat? Who are you? And...did you just talk? Like a human?! I mean, I shouldn't be surprised, but-" "Who I am and how I can talk is of no importance," said the cat. "Listen to me...take your crew and leave this island. You are all in terrible danger!" "Wait...what?" Blizzard asked. "How do you know about us being here?" "I saw you coming from the shore," the cat answered, "but again, that is of no importance! You have to leave this island, at once! He is already aware of your presence...and if he finds you-" "Wait...'he'?" Blizzard repeated. "Who the hell is this 'he'?!" "The master of this island," the cat replied. "He is somebody who devours souls...and they call him-" GRRROOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAARRR~!!! A monstrous roar suddenly bellowed through the air, causing Blizzard to tense up as the roar echoed. "...Kovar...!" the cat whispered in horror. "Ko-who?" Blizzard asked...and he soon got his answer when something dropped down behind with him a colossal THUD!! "...Do I dare look behind me?" the wolf-dog asked before he slowly glanced over his shoulder...and he saw, behind him, a gigantic dragon with black scales and sharp spines going down its back, and only two legs and two huge wings. Its face and underbelly were a grayer color...and they gave the impression of making the dragon had a bit of a skeletal appearance. The beast stood about as tall as the dreaded Oars from Thriller Bark, glowering down at Blizzard with fiery, dark red eyes. "...I take it this is Kovar?" Blizzard asked. "Yes," answered the cat, "and if I were you, I would start running!" GRROOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAARR!!! The dragon, Kovar, roared as he spread his massive wings, and soon after, Blizzard turned and blitzed off. Kovar, however, flapped his wings, sending himself into the air before he flew after the wolf-dog. He then took a deep breath and spat out a jet of dark red flames, which formed a wall before Blizzard, who ultimately braked to a halt, his nose nearly coming in contact with the flames. "Ah, crap, what now?!" Blizzard questioned before he looked back and saw Kovar, who growled as he swooped down on the wolf-dog...but just as he was about to close in... "BACK OFF, LIZARD LIPS!!!" WAPOW!!! Quick as a flash, who else should appear but Luffy, in the nick of time, punching the beast in the jaw and momentarily sending him across the ground. "Luffy!" Blizzard exclaimed, and not long after, the rest of the Straw Hats soon appeared. "You know something, Mutt?" Zoro asked with his swords brandished. "It's bad enough Luffy does this! Don't you start doing it, too!" "...Sorry," Blizzard apologized, although he was a bit irked by Zoro's tone, though he couldn't really blame him. "Holy crap, is that really a dragon?!" Usopp questioned. "Why are you so suprised?" Robin asked. "We did see one back in Punk Hazard. "Well, yeah, but still, it's shocking!" Usopp retorted. "He sure looks big...and scary!" Chopper added. "Indeed...!" Brook agreed, nervously. "My bones are rattling just looking at that behemoth!" "Ah, he don't look so tough to me," Franky smirked. "Here he comes," Nami said. "Be on your guard, everybody!" "You guys better get ready," Sanji spoke up. "By the end of this, we'll be having dragon fricassee for dinner." "Sounds good to me," Luffy grinned, remembering the last time he had tasted dragon meat. Not too far away from them, Aika and Kumi hid behind a log, watching from a safe distance, having been told to stay back by Nami. For once, Aika didn't seem to complain, for the sight of Kovar seemed to make her blood run cold more than the Marines ever did...and Kumi could sense it, for she put a paw on her back. "Aika...calm down, okay?" the Akita pup asked. "It's gonna be all right...!" "...That...that dragon...!" Aika whispered. "All I can sense from him...is evil...! Pure evil!" Kumi gaped in shock before she glanced back at Kovar, who growled as he faced the Straw Hats. However, Luffy just gave the dragon his usual cocky grin as he cracked his knuckles and took a fighting stance. However, as they stared each other down, Kovar widened his eyes, which caused them to flash red, and not long after, Luffy suddenly tensed up and cried out in pain as he grabbed at his head. "Luffy?!" Nami questioned. "Hey! What's wrong, captain?!" Zoro asked. "I...I don't know...!" Luffy groaned as he held his head, then looked up at Kovar, who seemed to give a grin of his own, causing the Straw Hat Captain to gasp silently. "What the hell...did he do to me...?!" Kovar only chuckled, darkly in response, to Luffy's growing dread, while the cat stood from afar, watching with a look of defeat. "It's too late, now..." she whispered. "He's set his sights on that one. Unless his will is strong...he will lose."TO BE CONTINUED...
Next time on One Piece: The Fire Within!Luffy: Guys! Whatever you do, don't look into that dragon's eyes!Blizzard: This dragon...he's not like the one we fought on Punk Hazard! What the hell is he?!Next time: A Dangerous Encounter. |
Still chuckling, Spencer walked over and slapped him on the back. "Which is why you ought to start dating again. You gotta have that thing drained every once in a while; masturbation's a solo sport. Occasionally, you need to feel another person's hands on you, Jack."
"You know, Spencer, a long time ago I think I said almost those very words to you."
Eighteen years ago, more or less, he'd indeed said the exact same thing to Spence, while sitting in a hot tub at Jack's house late one night. It'd been almost a full year after the death of Mac's mother, Kayla. Jennifer had been sitting between them in the moonlight, listening to the guys talk when Jack shifted the conversation to Spence's reluctance to date since his wife's passing.
"Give it a break, Jack. Dating is out of the question," was all Spence had said from the shadows. "I have a daughter to think of." He paused for several moments. "Besides, I wouldn't have a clue how to even begin with another woman after Kayla. And, who the hell would I ask out in this town? I never see anyone except at work!"
Spencer glanced down at Jennifer, as if expecting some kind of comment. She didn't say a word; instead, she glanced at Jack. He responded by slightly raising an eyebrow and giving her a gentle nudge with his shoulder.
"What?" Jennifer looked up at Spencer then her husband. Jack raised an eyebrow and smiled. She blushed furiously and glanced back at Spence.
In answer, Jack stood and slid his trunks down, then tossed them on the side-deck. Jennifer watched Spencer. He blushed if that was possible for a black man. Never the less, fifteen-seconds later, his trunks landed next to Jacks.
They sat back down in the water on each side of Jennifer, but not before she got a good look at Spencer.
Everybody was quiet for a few seconds, then Jack and Spence turned to Jennifer.
"What?"
"Let's see, you seem to be the only one still dressed in this tub. Hardly seems fair. Would you like to do the honors of removing her swimsuit, Spence?"
Jennifer looked at Jack as if
"Stand up, Jennifer."
She stood slowly from the water as Jack told her.
With only the slightest hesitation, Spencer reached for her. She moved his hands to her back lifting her hair, placing the swimsuit's drawstrings in his fingers. She closed her eyes as he pulled slowly but firmly. She felt the tug as they gave and slid. His eyes examined her as the top fell away; and, to his credit, didn't lower his gaze down until she opened her eyes.
"Jesus, Jack. She's so small," was all he could say. Jennifer blushed. She stood up and placed his hands on her hips over the strings holding the bottoms on. He pulled and the bottoms fell into the water. He tossed them to the deck.
Jack placed his hand on her back, gently pushing her into Spence's arms.
Spence focused his gaze on Jack, his eyes begging for permission. Jack only said, "We're your best friends. Anything you need is yours. Anything of mine is yours, too." Jennifer blushed all over.
"Anything? Can I borrow the sailboat?"
"The sailboat?" Jennifer popped him on the shoulder with her fist.
"He did say anything!" Spencer fended her off easily and wrapped her up, pinning her arms to his chest.
"I should warn you, Spence, that she's small everywhere," Jack chimed in.
Spence gazed down at her. "Well, Jack," he laughed, "I'm not."
"Jennifer, have you ever made love with a black man?" She shook her head,
"Well then, have you ever slept with anyone but that lovable asshole?" She hesitated for several seconds before she finally shook her head. Or, was it a nod? He couldn't decide if the answer was a "Yes" or a "No".
"Jesus, Jenn are you sure about this? I mean this is quite a step. Just because Jack says I can have you, doesn't mean, well... "
She stood, interrupting him mid-sentence. "Sit on the edge of the tub, Spence," then she turned to Jack, "You, too, oh, generous one!"
Both of them examined the other comparing and assessing, shrugged their shoulders, raising up and sliding up onto the side of the tub.
Jack moved to the right slightly, away from his partner. He wanted to watch. "Oh, no, you started this 'share Jennifer' thing. Slide your ass over here," she ordered, patting the tub next to Spencer.
Grudgingly, he moved closer to Spencer. Both were nervous about being naked with another man. This was not the gym locker room. They were especially nervous sitting so close their thighs were touching. Jennifer would soon fix that.
"Besides I want you to see this, Jack."
She knelt on the tub's bench between Spence's open legs. Reaching up to move the hand covering his cock, she gasped as it fell free.
"I told you I wasn't small, Jenn."
It was already perhaps seven inches long and growing, but not erect yet. It wasn't as thick as her husbands. She placed a hand around it and Spencer put his head back and moaned.
"A little needy are we there, Spencer?"
Jack watched in fascination as his little blond wife fisted his best friend's cock. Her hand was a stark contrast to the heavy black cock she was holding. Jack watched as her she slid her hand back over the head of Spencer's dick. He watched as she traced the pattern of the dark veins in the skin of Spence's cock meat with a fingertip. Watched her lift one ball then the other. They were so heavy she actually couldn't stop herself from saying.
"These things are huge Spencer. And heavy. I always wondered."
Spencer Phillips just smiled. It was a gentle smile. It was a hungry smile. It was a knowing smile.
"Jenn, I'm sorry, but I gotta ask, ' Can you can stand for a second?' I've gotta see all of you." She smiled and stood up. He broke into a plain shit eating grin when he saw she was shaved smooth.
"Smoothe, I've wondered what you would look like naked, since the first moment I saw you with this child molester."
"Give me your hand, Spence," Jack asked and Spencer did. Jack took his partner's hand in his own, reaching between Jenn's legs, guided Spencer's hand to her sex. He pushed Spencer's middle finger into her along with his own. She was already wet.
Spence whistled, "Christ, you're small, Jenn. I'm not sure it will fit."
She watched them both and could see that both were a little uncomfortable with the physical closeness; it was forcing a kind of intimacy men don't normally share. She smiled, moving her hands to both cocks at the same time. There was a collective moan in stereo from both sides as she grasped them with her small hands. She skinned the loose skin back over the head on Jack's cock as Spence watched. Jack was expanding fast. Spence evaluated the, perhaps, eight inches of her husband's meat and whistled, "Not bad for a white guy. I guess it's safe to say Jenn isn't curious because she isn't getting enough at home."
"No, I'm not!" Jenn squeezed Spence hard and he yelped. "Now, boys, try to remember that this isn't a contest. Jack's gonna show you what I like, Spence. Then, you get to show me what you like."
That shut him up, wondering what she liked. Jack reached for her, pulling her between his legs, reached a hand up into her hair pulling her face onto his cock. She barely had time to take a breath before he was halfway down her throat. Spence watched the knob of a cock, not much smaller than his, stretch the sides of her mouth. Then, he watched the shape of his best friend's cock shaft stretch the sides of Jenn's throat.
"Jesus fuck, Jack. Can she take it like that? You're only a little smaller than me, and no one has ever done that to mine."
Jack said hoarsly, "Spence, the first time she ever throated me, she was... well, let's say 'younger'."
"No fucking' way! Any younger would have been just baby pussy."
Jack grunted into her throat, more of him slipping down her gullet. "Why do you think I used to date her? Why do you think I married her? She is the hands-down, far-and-away, the best head I ever have had. And, Spence, the bigger the cock, the better she likes it." As if to punctuate his sentence, he grabbed the back of Jenn's head and forced her down to the bottom of his cock. She gagged, choking as he thrust into her throat. She choked again when he bottomed out with his pubic hair resting against her lips. He fucked his meat into her again and again in needy-little-short-strokes as she choked around it. "Put your hand on her throat, Spence."
Spence did. From feel the of Jack's cock head plunging Jenn's small throat, he could swear that his hand was holding it. He actually felt the strokes Jack made into her mouth. He pulled his hand from her throat, like he'd touched a hot burner. But, Jennifer grabbed his hand and put it back around her throat. She forced her head down throating her husband's cock. She moaned around his shaft as their best friend held her throat. He felt every inch of Jack pass under his fingers. He reached down for his own cock, feeling it swell in anticipation of the enjoying the small blond's throat.
Jack lifted Jennifer's head from his crotch. She came up gasping with saliva dripping from the corners of her mouth. He pushed her head all the way back down in a single tug. She choked. He brought her back up again. Spence examined Jack's cock, again.
Jack ground his hips into Jennifer's face until none of the shaft could be seen and the balls were tight against her chin.
Jack pulled her off his cock holding her by her hair. "Spencer, why don't you come here and feed my wife that big black cock of yours; I know she wants to. Don't you baby?"
She had a defocused look in her eyes. Sexy as hell. Her lips were cutely swollen from being battered by her husband's nuts.
"See how big the head of his cock is," Jack pointed, still holding her by the hair. "He'll be putting that all the way down your little throat. Is that okay, honey?" he asked. She blushed, glancing up at Spence, then down at his cock and slowly shook her head.
Spence reached over, taking Jennifer from Jack. He held her by her hair, just like Jack had. He pulled her over between his legs, laughing softly. "Jennifer, you'll never know how many times I've pictured you, on your knees, just like this." He wrapped one hand around his cock and pulled her mouth onto the head. "I've fantasized about doing this to you since the day you walked into The Practice. I'm sorry, Jennifer, but I gotta know what that mouth of yours feels like. Do what you just did to Jack!"
He fed his meat through his fist into the heat of her mouth inch-by-inch, first pushing her small tongue aside then entering the back of her throat. She choked a little around him, so he shifted to get a better angle. He held her head motionless for a second then resumed the pressure on the back of her skull, pulling the small blond's mouth further and further onto the dark hard meat.
Jack took a good hard appraising look at the cock that was being force fed to his wife. It was broader than his and thick, especially thick just past the head, then it narrowed slightly. The head was smaller than the shaft, but that did not mean small. It had a pronounced downward curve that made it even look heavy. His wife appeared positively childlike kneeling between Spence's legs. He could actually see the shape of his friend's cock-head stretch her throat.
.
Spencer reached up with both hands holding her head as he guided the cock into her throat, angling his hips one way then another as he pressed deeper. "FUUUCK, Jack. She's good at this." He was about half-sheathed in Jennifer's throat when he started to move his hips, face-fucking the small blond kneeling between his legs while her husband watched.
Jack was too busy manhandling his own cock to comment. He had never imagined Jennifer looking like that when they fucked.
.
He reached over, putting his hand on her butt, but she slapped it away.
Spence stood up, holding Jenn's head as he rose. Bent at the knees to give himself leverage, holding her head still as he stood up, aiming it downward a little for just the right angle, he thrust. Jennifer choked. He held her tight, moving his hips left then right. A short thrust added another inch to her throat.
Jenn's face was flushed as Spence fed her the meat. She watched her husband masturbate as his best friend face-fucked her. She'd slapped his hands away because she didn't want him to see how wet she was down there. This had always been a fantasy of hers, too. She just didn't want Jack to know.
Suddenly, she choked around Spence's shaft, feeling his balls slap her lips for the first time, she gagged,
She opened her throat around Spence. He actually felt her throat open, and was suddenly balls-deep in his first white girl, his first blond, his law partner, and his best-friend's wife's throat.
Jenn felt him swell; his balls actually lifted a little. She felt him add another half inch to his length and knew he was close. It had been almost year since he'd been with a woman. From conversations his wife, she also knew that he was good for more than once. She let him have her mouth with abandon, swallowing around his cock.
"Jesus, Jenn, I'm sorry but I gotta nut! I can't wait." His head reared back and he pulled her face even tighter into his crotch. She felt his balls climb up onto the sides of his cock, trying to force themselves into her mouth. Closing her eyes as she felt him flex, suddenly, she had a throat full of cum. Most of it heading straight for her tummy. He was so deep she didn't really taste the first shot.
Jack watched, enthralled as he watched her swallow.
Spencer pulled it almost all the way back out then rammed it down her throat, grunting. "Take it, you bitch!" Stunned, Jenn blushed. "Take my big black cock, you little white cunt."
Even Jenn was surprised by those words. She should have been horribly offended, but she knew she was tapping some deep fantasy of his. And, of hers. Each word 'little'... 'white'.... 'cunt', was punctuated by a full-depth thrust of his massive meat and a roll of his hips for emphasis.
"You white girls always want to know what its like to be suck a black dick?" He held her head tight against his crotch as his balls lifted and dropped repeatedly, emptying themselves. "Well, now you fucking know!" Her pale fists beat against his legs. He didn't care.
As he pulled his half-hard cock from her lips, he was more embarrassed than he'd ever been.
Jack watched him, amused at his friend's sudden racial outburst.
"I'm sorry, Jennifer. I'm really sorry! That was unforgivable. I don't know what I was thinking. I didn't mean to." The poor guy was so tongue-tied he was almost cute in his embarrassment.
"Jack?" Her eyes never left Spencer's. "Did you see what he did to me? Did you hear what he said to me?" She sniffled, attempting to clear her nose of cum and trying to keep Spencer from seeing the smile on her face as she turned her head towards her husband.
"Did you see how big his cock is, honey?" she whispered to Jack. Her voice was hoarse from the abuse her throat had taken and from the desire for more.
She was so turned on that she shuddered and put her head down on Jack's shoulder. To Spence, it seemed like she was crying. Filled with regret, he was mortally sure he'd destroyed the only two friendships he'd ever truly valued.
Ignoring Spence's discomfort, Jack hugged his wife, "So how was it, Jennifer? How was your first black cock? Was he as good you thought he would be?"
Despite the fact that she still had tears in her eyes from nearly choking, she managed to say, "Did you see how far he got that fucking thing down my throat? And, he wouldn't let go of my head. I thought he was gonna choke me to death, Jack; he was using my mouth like it was some teenage girl's pussy. You didn't miss that, did you?"
She reached down between her husband's legs and found him throbbingly hard, the skin drawn back and exposing the bloated cock head to her palm. He was leaking precum. He was harder than a wooden post.
She lifted her head from her husband's shoulder, looked at Spencer and said softly, "You can loan me to Spence anytime, honey."
Spence took the first breath he had taken in what felt like several minutes. Realizing that she'd actually liked what he'd done to her, his cock started to get hard again, just thinking about it.
He watched as Jack kissed his wife, tonguing her.
And with that revelation, he got rock hard again.
Without another word, Jennifer climbed gracefully out of the tub. They both watched her walk away.
Spence was the first to speak, "Jack, I wanna...."
"Oh, shut up and don't sweat it. She fucking loved getting it from you," Jack assured him. "I told you she liked it big."
"So why did she leave?"
"I imagine she wants to give us a chance to talk. Trying to make sure that both you and I are okay with this." Jack lowered his voice, asking pointedly, "So, are you okay with this, Spencer?"
"Fuck yes!" Spence grinned. "Jack, she's a hot little piece of ass. My god, I thought my dick was gonna melt when she wrapped her lips around it."
Jack winked. "Remember, she's been sucking like that since
we got married."
Tuned-in to Jack's deliberate emphasis on the word 'before', Spencer hooted, "You're were a fucking child molester, Jack Grant."
"No, I'm not. I had to wait four years before she was old enough to consent legally. My little Jennifer, there, was the original 'jail bait'."
Gearing up his courage, Spencer asked, "Am I the only other man she's been with, like she said?"
Nor did it escape him how artfully Jack managed to dodge the question.
"Jesus, she was sexy when you were face-fucking her!" Jack raved with enthusiasm. "I'd no idea what that would look like. With you two, it was absolutely beautiful; she's so small compared to you, and, so pale."
"Yeah! Watching it, it looks like you're fucking a little girl." Still sweating from his blow-job, Spence rubbed his hand across his brow.
"Spence, is she as good as I think she is? I mean at, you know, deep-throat?"
Sighing, the black man acknowledged, "I swear I've never had a woman suck my dick like that. Not even Mac's mom." For Spencer a brand new world, full of possibilities, had just been revealed and he desperately wanted to explore more of it. But not at the expense of sacrificing the friendship of his two best friends.
"Jack?"
"Yeah?"
"Would you think I was a total ingrate, if I told you... if I said?" Frustrated he struggled for with the words, only to end up shrugging his shoulders in defeat. "To hell with it! There's no polite words for what I want to say."
"Spence, does it occur to you that we're two guys sitting in a hot tub buck-naked and talking about blow-jobs? Not just any blow-jobs. We are calmly discussing my wife having just blown you. Just spit it out."
"Okay... here goes. I'd really like to fuck Jennifer. I want to feel my cock soak in the heat of that little pussy. All the way in her pussy, to know what it would be like. But if you won't go for that, I'll totally understand." He laughed nervously, suddenly unsure of himself, unsure if he even had a right to ask. "I mean, you've been more than generous."
"Shit! You damn-near got all that out in one breath!" Jack ribbed him. "Spence, as good as she is at giving head, Jennifer's twice as good at fucking. I shit thee not. But, you'd have to be very gentle at first. She's still so small there, even after all these years with me. The first time we ever went all the way, I had to put it in while it was half-hard to let her get used to the size of the thing before she could take more of it. She was so wet and hot, her little box kinda took care of getting it all the way hard. By the time it was, she was all the way onto it. Once you sink it all the way, then you can really begin to fuck her. Deep is her favorite and rough. No, not rough, not the right word. 'Taken'. Jenn likes being taken. Not forced, dominated. She's just a little submissive. If that helps."
Spence studied his friend, checking for any signs of doubt or annoyance. "You're sure?"
Jack shook his head. "Absolutely."
Jenn came back from the house in a white cotton robe, carrying two drinks. "You guys okay?"
"Fuck yeah!" they chorused in unison.
"And did you guys talk?"
Jack answered for both of them. "No problem. We had a long talk, a good talk. We're fine."
Bending down, she handed both of them a drink. "Good, then that makes three of us."
Jack took her hand, pulling her closer. "Jenn, Spencer wants to take you to bed. Right now! Poor guy honestly believes he'll die, if he never feels your pussy around his cock. And, honey, you'll be his first little white girl. You'll be his first white pussy, baby." He winked impishly pointing at Spencer's balls. "Jennifer, he hasn't had any in a year, so they must still be full."
Taking a long swig off his drink, Spence climbed out of the tub and walked over to Jenn. "I'm sorry, Jenn, I want more. My nuts are still so full. And you were so bad, sucking me like that. It'll haunt me to my grave if I don't feel you under me, at least once in my life."
Surprised by his urgency, Jenn raised her eyes to search his face. Nervously, she shifted her weight from one foot to the other as if making a decision; then, she tentatively took his cock in her small hand. Smiling like a pixie, she tugged on it gently, leading him from the hot tub towards the darkened house. At the patio door, she turned and called seductively to Jack, "Come on, Daddy, you're gonna watch."
Jack almost lost it. His cock went hard at the very thought of seeing her actually fuck Spencer.
Jack walked to her. She took his hand in the dark and led them both to the bedroom. The moon was full and low as she opened the blinds. She led Jack to a darkened corner where she had a rocking chair. Pushing him down into it, she kissed him tenderly, laughing, "Stay!"
Spencer watched them, then waited patiently as she turned to him, pulling him to the bed by his erection. As she pushed him down on his back, she took off the robe. It was an exquisite moment with both washed in the moonlight flowing across the bed.
She stood there looking down at him. His cock, a black shaft of obsidian darkness; her, a golden-haired angel, shimmering in moonbeams. Finally, sitting down beside him, she reached for his meat. He arched to find her hand, but she pushed him back down, swung deftly across his waist, straddling him, trapping his shaft as it lay on his stomach. He felt her wetness sliding up and down the length of his cock. She was getting wet and he was leaking himself.
He could feel her hooded clit riding along the surface of his shaft. She gasped at the intimacy of the fleshy caress. The veins on his cock were little bumps, each setting off a small ripple of pleasure. She bent forward bringing her lips to his. "Spencer, can you see Jack?" she whispered.
Obediently, he turned towards where Jack was sitting, nodding his head,
Bathed in the moons glow spilling across the room, Jack's body was clearly visible from the waist down.
"Is he watching us?"
"Oh yeah. Most definitely."
She gently let her lips fall onto his kissing him. She tasted like peaches. He opened his lips and let his tongue explore her lips, enter her mouth then slide over her tongue into the entrance of her throat. She flushed hot around the invading tongue.
She was breathing faster when he let her go. Spence could feel her nipples drag across his chest. His hands found her butt.
Swiftly, both his hands lifted her ass opening her on his cock. At the touch of his cock-kiss, her sex got wetter. He began to rhythmically move his hips under her. He was very deliberately driving the shaft across her clit and thru her hanging pussy lips. She was unbelievably wet. He wanted her wetter.
Jack sat watching his wife ride Spencer's cock.
Spence lifted her ass, making her move to his face. She felt the kiss coming; then, suddenly, his mouth covered her prominent little mound and his tongue found her hooded clit and more. Much more. She felt him slide across the clit and go right for the slit of her sex. She felt him open her with his fingers and slid his tongue in. It was surprisingly thick and long.
She moaned, "Oh fuck, Spence! Eat my pussy."
Spence marveled as he ate her.
Jennifer glanced back over her shoulder, catching sight of Jack's legs extended in the moonlight, his cock rock-hard. She saw it flex as he stroked it, watching his wife ride the black man's face. She saw Jack take his hands from it because he didn't want to blow a load early.
She pulled away from his Spencer's mouth, panting. Sliding back down to straddle his waist, again, as he held her ass, she hung above his cock. It was so hard it stood straight up. He felt a set of very small lips kiss the head of his hard on.
She pushed down, wriggling her hips. Only the head touched her pussy. Slowly, he opened her wide. She sat a little and Jack watched as his best friend's cock bent, then slowly straightened into his wife.
Jennifer took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as Spence's meat split her, "Christ, you're as big as my arm," she grunted. Rocking back and forth, she tried to wedge it in.
Jack could actually see her pussy-lips stretch across the head, like the neck of a sweater. Jenn was panting, trying to relax around it.
"Damn...no use!" she sighed mildly frustrated. Spencer arched under her, but she lifted her ass away.
"Fucking Jesus, Jennifer, nooo....!" he pleaded.
Wet and hot, she gently pulled herself off his cock and kissed him on the lips. "Wait here, big guy," she whispered.
She slipped off the side of the bed and glided across the room in the moonlight. Spence watched as she approached Jack's legs. He heard her say, "Open me up, Daddy. Open me up wide. Pretty please?"
Jack heard her taunt, "I know you want to watch me with him, Jack!"
She spun slowly around and Jack's hands found her ass, holding it just above his erection. He slowly lowered her onto it. She was so wet, he split her sex and entered her easily. Well, not easily. His hips went to work gradually pushing into her.
Feeling her trembling wetness around his cock, he skillfully pulled her into his crotch and slid his hands around her waist to finger her slit as he short-stroked her open.
Jenn was wet. She wasn't really slippery, just really wet. It was a tugging sensation of the skin sucking as you pull out, squishy-wet as you push in. She felt every vein of her husband's cock. Felt the ridge around the circumference of its head, the texture of his skin. Felt the small hairs at the base and on his balls. The pulse of it was a primal drumbeat of need. When she finally settled all the way onto Jack, she moaned as she was reminded again, how fucking thick he was at the base.
Jack laughed at her moan. "That is about as open as Daddy can make it, little girl."
She stood holding her hand demurely over her mound. She whispered, "Thanks, Daddy."
Spence had watched the whole thing. He was harder, than when she left him. As she walked to the side of the bed, he pulled her down across him and rolled onto her. "Baby, the fucking foreplay's officially over!" he grunted, savagely.
He climbed between her legs: and, wrapping them around his waist, she reached to put the head of his cock into her slit. Looming over her, he spread his knees on the bed forcing her legs apart. When the head of his cock touched her sex, he felt that wet little kiss feeling again. But this time, it gradually and deliciously enveloped him. He pushed deeper, feeling a couple of inches enter the fire. She gasped.
Jack's cock lurched as he saw several inches of coal black cock-meat disappear into his wife.
Spencer pulled back then thrust again just a little harder, forcing the breath from her, Jennifer Grant grunted under him, as his cock slowly drilled itself into her. He hung above her like a shadow in the darkness. It was a shadow that drove its lust into her where she was most defenseless, most open. It was like being fucked by the dark itself, like being fucked by something or someone you couldn't even see. Jack watched as almost half the invading cock disappeared into his wife's small pussy. He envied what Spence was feeling.
Spence grunted with each thrust, taking her. She was already cumming. He liked that because it made her wetter and he could get more in. His thrusts were at least ten full inches now. Almost all of it was in. She was stretched. He whispered, "Almost there, Jenn! You have most of it. Her comes the rest!"
She whispered into Spencer's ear, "Spence, let me get on top, please. I want him to see me riding you."
Spence pulled his cock from her. Her husband could hear the wetness across the room. Rolling over, Spencer lay down on his back as Jack watched Jennifer settle onto his waist, facing her husband this time. Jack could see Spencer's cock sticking up from between her legs. The illusion was perfect; it was almost as if she had a cock of her own.
Jennifer was never one to do things halfway. She turned towards where Jack was sitting there in the dark, slowly rubbing the head of the massive black cock across her pussy lips, slowly splitting them with it. Then she slid her bottom downward taking just the head. He saw her lick her lips, saw her head go back, and watched her long hair bounce slightly.
Jack watched Spence's cock bend almost in half, then slowly straighten into the small blond.
She had almost no hair down there, so he could see every little detail. The bulging veins on Spencer's cock, her lips stretching, her little hooded clit kissing that ebony blackness. He could see her tighten her tummy muscles and relax that small opening. But Jenn had one more trick, she lifted gently letting Spence's cock escape her. It surged to full erectness between her legs splitting her labia. It reached up past her bellybutton.
"Look, Daddy, how deep he's gonna fuck me," she baited Jack, as she held Spencer against her stomach. "It'll be all the way past my bellybutton." Raw with want, Jack leaned forward to see.
She began to push Spencer back into her. Jack could hear him begging her to sit down. She did. Slowly inch-by-inch she took the meat. Spencer thought he had been taken by the rapture as each inch slid in, till he was in to his balls.
Jennifer groaned hard as he bottomed out. "Christ, Spencer! When you hit bottom, it feels like you have the head all the way in my uterus."
"My daddy always told me, if you're gonna plow a field, plow the fucking thing. When you plant seeds, plant them deep."
Jack thought that might be the most erotic thing he'd ever seen her do, as she rode Spence's meat-pole. But Jennifer was not through showing off just yet.
She leaned back on her elbows, her knees under her, so she was resting on Spence's chest. Each thrust fed the black meat into her pussy. It was so open and exposed to Jack. He watched the long shaft fucking in-and-out of his wife like some gigantic piston. He would have sworn under oath that he could see the shape of that cock outlined on her stomach as Spencer speared her.
Jack's cock was hard and his need great as he stepped from the shadows. She saw him and whispered just loud enough for him to hear, "You should have done this all those years ago, Daddy. You didn't have to just watch us. I mean you don't have to just watch us."
He stepped up to the bed, reaching out to place a hand on her belly. He gasped as he actually felt the black cock pistoning in-and-out of her. It was almost like touching the cock moving in her. Spencer groaned as he felt his friend's hand through her abdomen.
Jack crept between their outstretched legs. Spencer felt the bed sag, as Jack climbed on. Jack leaned forward to kiss his wife. She kissed him tenderly then slowly pushed his head downward. He grinned. He found her with his lips, so intimate as he licked her tasting the new mix of wife and best friend. He felt the cock sliding into her across his chin as he licked her hooded little clit. The first time Jack's tongue touched his cock. Spencer jumped. Jack smiled again, he couldn't help but occasionally lick some part of Spencer as they moved.
At one point, Spencer pulled back enough that his cock flopped out of Jennifer. She moaned in frustration. When she reached to put him back in, Spence just held her hand, and winked. His cock laying on her thigh heavy, wet, and leaking.
"Would you mind putting it back in, Jack?"
Jack looked up at Jenn. She was watching to see what he would do. He reached out, wrapping his hand around Spencer. Jack slowly rubbed the thick black knob across Jennifer's open labia then forced the shaft in pushing gently till Spencer finished the stroke.
"God damn, Jack, that was something I never expected."
Jack climbed up onto his wife's tummy, his cock in-hand. For a moment, she turned her attention from fucking Spencer to see Jack over her in the moonlight. "Yes, Daddy, help him do me."
Jack jumped as the head of his cock touched Spencer's. He felt the sliding motion. He felt Spence pull back slowly till just his ebony knob was in her. Jack pushed his own into the stretched little opening. She squealed taking a big breath. Jack felt the head pop in, its mushroom-top captured by her. Then he felt Spence. They felt each other. They both moved at once, slowly entering her.
"Jack, Jennifer! This is so fucking hot," Spence groaned, fucking into Jenn against the hardness that was her husband. Both men were absorbed by this new feeling. Each was turned on by the touch of the other. Jenn was being torn in half by their combined shafts. Pushing gently against Jack's chest, she cautioned, "Too much, guys."
They slowed, changing tactics, one stroking full depth as the other pulled back. Her husband and his law partner tag-teamed her. She purred with pleasure as she figured out what they were doing to her. Each thought they would last longer this way anyway. They picked up the pace. In-and-out. In-and-out. Taking turns with the grasping and clinging hungry wetness of her sex. Then slowly they changed the tempo each slightly out of sync.
Now, she was getting half-a-double fuck... then three-quarters... then slowly, as they synchronized, she was taking both together, almost eighteen inches of cock meat. Each of the three knew something special was happening. Each sensed that they might never have this moment again. And, each knew that the others were close.
Together, they found Jennifer's rhythm. The power of it was overwhelming. Mindless, she screamed out wildly, "Jesus, this is so fucking good! Don't either of you dare fucking cum, yet!" She shook her head from side to side, her hair sweeping back and forth, "God, I didn't know anything could feel this good."
Not a person on the bed was capable of thought. Nothing remained but a wife's pussy and two pounding cocks. Lust in its simplest form. Pure carnal friction. Each sought release and the three found it together. Jennifer came first, wetting them both hotly. Then Spence and, almost at the same second, Jack exploded into Jenn's obscenely stretched cunt. Each came like they'd never cum before; filled her, till the cum was dripping from her. Incapable of stopping they kept on cumming, repeatedly emptying themselves into her. Their black and white seed mixing in her. She collapsed with exhaustion; yet, still they fucked her in tandem like some small rag doll. Each took her, both men draining themselves as they filled her. Until all three lay exhausted, depleted. Spent and irrevocably bound to one another, they finally slept.
Jack eyes crinkled in their corners and the edges of his lips curled at the memory of those months that followed. All three had pleaded cases together, eaten together, drank together, sailed together, and, many a night, slept together. Their lives had been the source of much community curiosity and scandal. A mixed racial threesome in a small Oregon town is not a common thing.
Spencer snapped his fingers in front of Jack's face. "Earth to Jack."
Jack stared at him, then slowly shook his head. "Sorry, just a little walk down memory lane. Old times there are not forgotten."
"What?" Spencer asked.
"I was just remembering the three of us. You. Me. Jennifer."
Spencer chuckled. "And, and moonlit nights. We were indeed the talk of the town. Well, of this small town anyway."
Standing there, pitching a tent in front of his best friend and law partner, Jack Grant started laughing. He couldn't stop. Caught up in the absurdity of the moment, he laughed till his sides hurt.
"This isn't happening! I can't believe we're taking this case. I've lost my fucking mind. We've lost our fucking minds! This is insane!"
"Yeah, but so is Jennifer, evidently!" Spencer added. "She agreed to come on board, again!"
"It's been two years since I talked to her. It's been four years since I've seen her. But she said, 'Yes, she was interested!' God damn, she'll be walking into this very office, thru that very door!" Jack Grant took a deep breath and sighed.
|
One month earlier.
They sat him down and cleaned his wounds before they shoved him in front of the warden. Some forty-year-old nurse with unresolved bitterness about her career choice and a mole on her upper lip poured alcohol between Dean’s split skin. Hissed. She frowned, told him to sit still.
He wondered if anyone had discovered Tom lying unconscious in Alistair’s office, and if this ugly bitch’d be torturing him as well. Nah, Dean smirked, they’d have to haul his ass out of here in an ambulance, stick an IV in his arm. He’d probably leak like an old hose, would take a lot to tape that boy back together again. But who knows, all that work might’ve done Tom some good, like plastic surgery, set his lopsided jaw straight so he didn’t grin crooked. If he ever grinned again.
Dean sat and listened for the sirens, satisfied with himself while the nurse poked and prodded. Sam’d say Tom deserved every goddamn stitch he got. Sam. Name drudged up the memory of them, together; blood, justice, and maybe something a little less pure. White hot guilt shot up his nerves. Not the nurse’s fault this time but blamed her anyways.
After he was washed and wrapped up with gauze and a lime green Band-Aid was taped over his nose, Dean was led to a large office tucked away in some corner of Douglas County Youth Services he’d never been. Inside, the warden sat waiting for him.
The warden was a short, middle-aged man with thinning hair. He wore a sharp British-cut pinstriped suit and an equally sharp British accent. His name was Crowley, and Dean had seen him slithering around the prison before, forked tongue flicking out orders. Crowley didn’t have a presence that commanded respect, wasn’t intimidating like Alistair. But there was a collective feeling that those who worked for the warden owed him something deep and terribly personal.
The office was lush, opulent, a display of wealth. Every corner of it had been carefully staged: wooden floors from front to back, walls of oaken cabinets, endless shelves stacked with important-looking books, curtains with ornate designs, exotic flowers, priceless vases, and numerous paintings in gold-gilded frames. The largest of these paintings hung in the back of the office and dominated the space. Dean recognized it: Michael the archangel casually standing on the back of some cowering man with leather wings, a demon, probably the devil.
The eternal fight against good and evil cast the room in an anxious light and Dean felt guilty in its presence.
Crowley sat in the center of the room at an intricately carved desk. He beckoned Dean to join him and Dean sank into an overstuffed leather chair on the other side of the desk, already felt like one of the shiny trinkets decorating the shelves.
“Well if it isn’t the infamous Mister Dean Winchester,” the warden crooned, legs and fingers crossed. “I hear you’ve been a very busy boy, Mister Winchester. Beating our poor little Tom into a bloody pulp.”
The full weight of what he’d done rushed in on him. No matter how noble his intentions, there must be dire consequences for what he’d done. Dean stared at the floor and fidgeted with the gauze around his bruised knuckles. Reverted to some earlier age in his childhood when answers were demanded and he could provide none. “Yessir.”
“Then let me be the first one to extend my gratitude.”
Dean could still feel the painting of Michael bearing down on his shoulders like a weight. When he looked up to see the warden smiling at him it felt like a small, twinkling light of saving grace.
“Today has been a massive headache,” the warden complained. “That little problem we had this morning? Drugs, contraband, a dead inmate. Nasty stuff. If it ever gets out of these four walls, I’m in quiet a pickle, Dean. Lucky for me the kid didn’t have any family, no one’s going to miss him. But the last thing I need is for some dead-beat reporter trying to make a break for themselves, sniffing about where they don’t belong. Understand?”
No, but nodded anyways.
“But,” Crowley continued, “I’ve been in this business long enough to know the quickest way to get rid of a scandal is an even bigger scandal. Preferably a scandal that I control.” The warden leaned back in his chair, smiled at Dean, about to announce checkmate. “And that’s where you and Tom come in.”
Dean stared at him blankly. It was like watching a film, blind. Heard the strands of dialogue but struggled with the context.
“Tomorrow morning the papers are going to read ‘Officer Arrested for Perversion,’ or some such thing, however those shrews down at that local paper want to shape it. And you’ll be the hero of this particular story, Dean. ‘Dean Winchester,’ it’ll say, the warden drew his hand broadly like the font for the local gazette was set at +500 points, ‘The man who saved the day, saved our children.’ How does that sound?”
Crowley watched him expectantly but Dean shook his head. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
The warden leaned forward across his desk. “I’m talking about a cover-up,” he said bluntly. “Tom’s sexual deviancy gets front page, and not what happened here today. You help me make this drug thing go away Dean, and I won’t press charges for assaulting my officer and initiating sexual contact with one of my underage inmates. Is that clear enough?”
The archangel bore down on him with the full judgment of heaven. Pierced by his lance, Dean sank into the warden’s chair, lowly like the demon beneath his foot.
“And don’t try to be the martyr on this one,” Crowley warned. “You are entirely expendable to me Mister Winchester. I could just as easily reverse your place with Tom. It just so happens that I like you better. But after what you did to him, I imagine that little shite would jump at the chance to throw you under the bus. Care to take that chance?”
Dean hid his face in shame, hopes crushed. Crowley wasn’t offering any saving grace, just a temporary detour from hell. “What do you want?” he asked.
“Don’t be so down in the mouth,” Crowley sneered. “I’m offering you my help, Dean. You ought to be more grateful. You’ve earned yourself two weeks of paid vacation, so relax! After two weeks, when you’ve undoubtedly drunk yourself under a table, and shagged yourself back into your good senses, then you can come back to work for me.” Sliding of wood, a drawer opening and then a thick stack of paper dropped onto the desk. “Because I’ll own you.”
Dean stared at the contract ominously, the top page with a line at the bottom that asked for a signature, his life signed away.
“And I know what you’re thinking. ‘He’s letting me walk scot-free, why don’t I just run?’” Crowley said, temporarily adopted an American accent for the sole purpose of mocking him. “But let me remind you, you’re not the only one I own Mister Winchester.”
Narrowed his eyes, ran through the short catalogue of targets Crowley was threatening. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
The warden groaned, threw himself back into his chair with such force that it spun in a slow circle. He shook his head and massaged his temples. “You know it’s not very fun to menace people when I’ve got to explain every bloody detail,” he sighed. “It means Sam Wesson, you idiot. It means I can make his last bit of time here cushy, or I can make it a living hell. It’s your choice.”
Dean scoffed. “What makes you think I care about that kid?” he asked carefully.
They both evaluated each other for a moment. “How about this,” Crowley proposed. “I’ll move him out of solitary, back into general population. I can even give him his own cell. He’ll be as comfortable as you can be in this place. And I’ll even call the public defender’s office, remind them to assign him a new lawyer. Who knows, he could even be out by the end of the month.” The warden smiled. “Or, he gets none of that, and you spend your brightest years in prison. How does that sound?”
Like there wasn’t much choice after all. Dean swallowed, stared at the contract. Any animal backed into a corner will take the first way out. “What do I have to do?”
“Just sign,” said the warden. He pick up a pen and casually rolled it across the desk.
Dean caught it, scanned the page but the words blurred together. He couldn’t read a single line. Licked his dry lips and signed his name in scrawling cursive.
Two weeks of purgatory followed. Two weeks to think about what he’d done. The lead up to all of this, some kid in cell H-6.
Like Crowley suggested, Dean developed a habit of drinking heavily, alone. A collection of Jack Daniels bottles sat on his window ledge casting long shadows in the evenings, bars on a window. Didn’t shag himself silly though. Head wasn't on straight. Couldn't get his dick to work without thinking of the wrong things. So decided to work on his car instead. Opened Baby up, gutted her, and put her back together again. Repeated the process over and over again, convinced there was something mucking up the works, didn’t purr for him the way she used to, just sputtered and coughed like she was sick. So he worked on her endlessly, for days at a time, sure that if he could fix his Baby, he could fix himself.
Because there was something wrong, some faulty part or cog in him. Didn’t know if it had broken over time or if he was born defective but the cause was clear as day: he was fucked in the head, simple as that.
Tom had been right all along. Wasn’t sorry for driving his fists into that fucker’s face, not one bit, but there should have been somebody behind Dean to cut him out of the picture too. Because Dean had kissed that kid. That wild kid that nobody could tame, could understand, had chosen him, offered himself to Dean. But it wasn't the lust that tore away at Dean's insides, it was the desire to possess. Sam had been his, totally his, for a brief second. Not like all the women Dean had been with. Where he charmed them with his good lucks and dirty jokes; effortless. Dean had earned the kiss Sam had given him. And now he couldn’t get it out of his head. Like a bad top 40’s song the image played on repeat, more corrupted every time. Thoughts of Sam’s lean body: his chest, the crack of his ass. What Dean had seen through the window hatch and his own libidinous experiences, remixed into some awful collage of muscles and sweat and come.
Waking to his own Metamorphosis, Dean was horrified at the monster he felt he’d become. Started to doubt his intentions from the very beginning: denying Bela, choosing to stay, all for the course of inevitably getting his dick sucked. He panicked at the thought. Didn’t want to be that eight-year-old kid again, or the old man that clung to him like a layer of soot he could never scrub clean.
Pulled himself out from under the Impala and couldn’t breathe, like she had fallen on his chest. On his knees, held the Impala’s sides, and choked back hot tears.
God, all those miles he’d run, it would always come back to him.
By the time he could see out of his left eye again, Dean picked up a newspaper and found an article about Tom Milligan buried on the sixth page. It read like an accident, stank like a setup and despite Crowley’s grandstanding, he wasn’t mentioned, even as a footnote. The hero of that story, if there was one, was the cleaning lady that discovered those planted images on Tom’s computer. But Dean didn’t care because this was poetic justice, contrived, manipulated.
Cut out the article and practically framed it on his wall.
Dean worked the nightshift now, drove to Douglas County Youth Services at 10 pm and stumbled outside when the sun started to shine: the start of everyone else’s day and the end of his. Exhausted, he draped a blanket over the windows in his motel room to block out every square inch of sun that threatened to bleed through. But it wasn’t enough to buffer him from the cheery screeching of birds. Moaned and buried his head under a pillow.
His first night back all Dean cared about was holding Crowley accountable. He confirmed the transfer order that moved Sam out of solitary and back to the row, personally took Sam’s books out of storage and moved them to his new cell. He swiped that skin mag back from his old office (still sitting in the trash) and scrawled his name on the back. It was an autographed greeting to Sam and another contract, a personal commitment to tits, ass, and two pairs of pretty pink lips.
After that, Dean was satisfied. He’d kept his word, put Tom away and made Sam safe. Figured his part in this drama was done, would keep his head down and work on his end of the contract. It wasn’t hard, Crowley kept him busy. Every other night he was unloading trucks with another guard named Johnny. The trucks backed into the loading zone so he and Johnny could drag out box, after box, until the sun peeked over the horizon. Every night it was something different. The trucks would bring produce for the kitchen or basic supplies like blankets and uniforms. Once there was just a truck full of shoes.
“How many friggin’ sneakers do these kids go through?” Dean growled, glanced warily at Alastair who sat at the end of the loading dock flipping through a magazine for knife collectors and enthusiasts.
Johnny shrugged, and kept going. His partner Johnny was thin, emaciated with a haunted look in his eyes. He rushed to get nowhere, like he was constantly being whipped at the heels. Dean looked closely but never found the demons that were driving him.
The nights they weren’t unloading trucks, he and Johnny were re-loading empty ones. These boxes were heavier, sealed tight, took all fucking night to load.
Dean was increasingly miserable. Kept trying to figure out why the trucks would only come at night, why fucking inmates couldn’t load and unload them (like child labor laws would ever stop Crowley). After twenty minutes of that shit he took a break, right inside the truck where Alistair couldn’t see. Dean sat on the edge of one of the heavier boxes and lit up, was surprised to see Johnny sit down beside him and ask to bum one. They sat and smoked. It reminded Dean of his second day with Bobby. Felt bad, old man didn’t know Dean had signed his life away long before Crowley had sunk his claws in.
Dean turned to his partner with a smirk. “So, what are you in for?” he joked.
“Debt,” Johnny answered. “You?”
Dean’s smirk faded at his partner’s punchline. Hadn’t expected him to be that candid or that brusque. “Heh. I-uh…what?”
“Gambling debt,” Johnny explained. “I was in over seventeen grand, had the mob on my ass. I was good as dead until Crowley bailed me out.”
“You’re telling me Crowley loaned you money?” Dean asked skeptically.
“I work here to pay him back,” Johnny confirmed.
“But why the hell would he do that?” Dean asked. Could understand the warden wanting him to keep quiet, but why would he need to blackmail some random Joe Schmoe.
“So that I would keep quiet, I guess,” Johnny shrugged. “Not ask questions. Plus I have a wife and a kid, you know. They had no idea how bad it was and I want to keep it that way.”
“He made you sign a contract,” Dean concluded.
Johnny laughed. “Everybody who works here has a contract, Dean.” He took a final drag and threw the cigarette outside the truck. It fell against the wheel, a small pinprick of light in the dark. “This place isn’t just a prison you know, it’s hell.”
Dean cursed silently, flexed his fingers and debated whether he should just keep walking. His own fault, really, for sweeping by every night like a protective dog. But Sam would probably have kept talking until the paint peeled if he hadn’t said anything.
“Should get some sleep, Sam. It’s late.”
It was a warning, or more like a plea to let him disappear back into the night. Sam hated being a prisoner here but for once he should be happy there was an iron door separating them because Dean didn’t trust himself anymore.
“Is it- is that really you?”
Relief in Sam’s voice, like he actually missed him. Stupid kid.
Dean made up some bullshit excuse when asked where he’d been. Was actually a talented liar, all these years on his own, had just never used that particular skill set on Sam. It was for their own good, though. No point in admitting he’d sold himself out for some 15-year-old kid because there was nothing either of them could do about it now.
“I could have another family out there, you know, waiting for me?”
He was arbitrarily jealous of this family, whoever they were. They didn’t know what they gave up. Sam was a good kid. Whatever he thought of Dean, Sam was ten times that and more. He thought of the empty seat of his car, his dirty motel room, his life held together by sporadic paychecks and microwave burritos. Admitted he was in no better place to take care of him. Lifting boxes of shoes and stealing snippets of conversation through an iron door was the best he could do. And he was glad to do it.
Unloading another truck, back-breaking work. A few years of this and Dean could easily see himself thin and broken like Johnny. Course, didn’t plan to stick around that long. Grunted with the weight of another box. It shifted in his grasp, tried to catch it but it fell, toppled to the ground. The bottom gave out, cardboard split open and bundled blankets wrapped with plastic ties spilled onto the dock. Knelt to pick them up, stuff them back inside when three small packets of yellow powder fell out of the folded fabric. Dean stared, didn’t realize what he was seeing until Johnny dropped to his knees and finished stuffing the contents-rolled blankets, plastic bags- back into the box.
“Don’t be an idiot,” Johnny hissed, folded the box closed again and shoved it at him. “Pick it up and keep going.”
His partner scuttled away from him like a frightened kitten and Dean was overwhelmed with dread. He knew drugs. Nights with Bela and white powder and feeling like you could fly. He knew their shape, color, consistency. And he knew where you hid them when you didn’t want anyone to look.
Yellow powder, the faintest hint of sulfur, something new, like Ellen had described the morning Alan Corbett died. This was Black Eye, inside Douglas County Youth Services this whole time, and he had been blackmailed to ship it.
Dean clutched the box to his chest, numb.
Knocked on Sam’s cell door, no answer.
The warden shrugged, seated behind his rich mahogany desk. “I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Was calm in the face of Dean’s seething rage. “You look tired. Have you been getting enough sleep?”
“I found what was in those boxes you sonofabitch!” Dean accused sharply. “That’s why you wanted a cover-up so goddamn badly wasn’t it? You didn’t want anybody finding out you brought that shit in here. Hell, you might as well have killed that kid yourself!”
“Why don’t you sit down?” Crowley invited.
But Dean was too incensed with righteous fervor. “That special force was all for show too, searching the cells but not the storage units. Is this your distribution center, or just one link in a chain? Tell me, goddamnit, how far up the food chain does this thing go?”
Crowley smoothed the front of his suit, wouldn’t budge. “You’re a little sore from being made a fool of, I understand. But why don’t you sit down, before you say something you regret.”
“You’re not gonna get away with this,” Dean warned. “I swear I’m gonna pull you off your throne, Crowley. If it’s the last thing I do.”
The warden’s serene veneer finally snapped. “What makes you think you’re so much better than me you twerpy little shite?” Crowley sneered. “You have a petty criminal record the length of a Tolstoy novel. You’ve probably spent most of your miserable little life shooting up, half out your bloody mind. Don’t you dare preach to me. You are a nobody, Dean, a nothing. The most useful you’ve ever been is working here, for me. So don’t start trying to be the hero now!”
Dean stood there, clenching his fists.
“We’re going to have a pleasant little conversation about your future here,” Crowley continued through a gritted smile. “Now, sit down.”
Sunrise, shafts of pink and yellow light cut across the sky. Dean blinked at the sunlight, surprised every time night turned to day. Felt like it had been night for hundreds of years. He drew a line in the morning dew that gathered on the shining black hood of his car and dug for the keys in his pocket. The sound of the waking prison behind him was like a stirring monster.
“Morning.”
Dean heard a gruff, familiar voice and found Bobby Singer standing behind him gripping two cups of cheap gas station coffee.
“Hey,” Dean answered, wary. The last he had seen Bobby, covered in Tom’s blood and the heat of Sam.
“You look like shit,” Bobby said, handed him a styrofoam cup, hot and blunt. A peace offering, or a temporary stalemate, either way Dean accepted.
“So I keep getting told.”
“Place puts ten pounds an’ ten years on ya. Least that’s my excuse.”
Dean smirked. Bobby drank his coffee. They stood and listened to birds chirping as the sun continued to rise. Bobby knew the familiar call of the local northern rough-winged swallow, its short, sharp, low-pitched call, liked to listen to it in the mornings. Dean’s head was still ringing with the sound of Crowley’s threats.
“So how’s the night shift treatin’ you?” Bobby asked.
“Like shit.”
Bobby nodded like he understood and Dean wondered how much. Ran his hand over the breast of his jacket, felt the sharp outline of a cassette tape. “Bobby. Do you have a contract?”
Old man wiped at the brim of his cup. “What do you mean?”
“With Crowley.”
Lips drawn into a tight line and then Bobby nodded that he did, took another long sip of his coffee. “Used to be a cop in another county,” he admitted. “Got shot by some dumbass punk thinkin’ he’s the next Jesse James. I sat in a wheelchair for months, Dean, thought I’d never walk again when what’s his face, the warden, finds me one day and says how would I like to work in juvie? I said how the hell am I supposed to wrangle kids in this metal armchair of mine? Next thing I know he’s paying for my recovery treatment and here I am.”
“And that doesn’t seem weird to you?” Dean pressed.
“It’s weirder n’ a two-headed pig!” Bobby said. “I wasn’t born yesterday, Dean. I know this place stinks something rotten. I know Crowley’s bent, I know the cops are too. And I sure as hell know that when Tom does something like what he did, the administration’s not supposed to turn their backs.”
Dean lowered his eyes at the mention of Tom. “Yeah well, that bit turned out alright didn’t it?”
Bobby studied him for a beat. “Didn’t have one when you came in but warden got to you too didn’t he?”
Dean was silent.
“Thought as much,” Bobby confirmed. “Let me give you a piece of advice son: whatever, or whoever, you’re hanging around here for, cut it loose. It ain’t worth killing yourself over. And that’s what you’re doing, kid, since the day you stepped foot in this place. I don’t know what it is, but something’s eating you from the inside out.”
Dean laughed bitterly. “You need to work on your pep talks.”
“Ain’t no pep talk!” Bobby said. “You’re young, Dean. And you’re actin’ like the road’s gonna end for you soon but it won’t. You’ve got a long patch of highway in front of you. Need to realize that, and start thinking about the consequences.”
Dean shook his head. “You sound like my old man,” he muttered distantly.
“Well, I’m an old man at any rate.”
“Bobby, this place, it’s more rotten than you know,” Dean said slowly. “And maybe you’re right, maybe I should go but I have the opportunity to fix something. To do the right thing. I can’t go until I’ve done that,” Dean concluded, solemn.
“I don’t know what you’re jabbering on about,” Bobby said, “but if you gotta fix something, you fix it.”
“I’m going to,” tipped the Styrofoam cup like raising a beer glass, cheers. Dean opened his car door and sat inside, the vinyl seats creaked in greeting. As Bobby disappeared inside the detention center he slid a cassette tape into the player of his car, put the Impala in drive and listened to Crowley’s voice on the way home: sinister admissions to his sins in Douglas County.
Cuts and bruises on Sam’s face. Crowley’s decision to put Gordon in the same bunk as Sam and that was the last straw for him.
“I’m sorry,” Dean said. “That shouldn’t have happened.” Wanted to confess to everything, his contract, his discovery, the way Sam’s smile made his blood pump, but Sam didn’t understand what he was trying to say.
They both knew this was goodbye, though.
Sam gave him his family heirloom, this weird little amulet with horns and spiral markings that was half-melted on one side. The kid had nothing and he still managed to share part of himself. Dean can’t say no, doesn’t want to anyways. Draped it over his neck and beamed. Something beating in his chest, some shriveled organ he forgot he had. He loved this kid so much it scared him.
Dean slipped a yellow package into the metal slot of the post office across town, neat print spelling out the Sheriff’s address in Lawrence. By the time it got there he’d be long gone. Headed back to his motel to finish packing, slowed down as he saw the flash of red and blue lights, three cop cars parked in front of his building. Dean pulled over and watched as three officers kicked down his friggin’ door and tore his place apart. The neighbors stood outside in various stages of curiosity and undress. A fourth officer was already taking testimony, probably writing down the make and model of his car.
“Fuck,” Dean hissed. He knew Crowley had set him up, the place was probably littered with drugs and most of them wouldn’t be his. Trying to frame each other but the warden had more muscle to flex.
Dean shifted the Impala into gear and whipped around, raced down the street in the opposite direction. Things were in motion now, pieces had all been set in place and he couldn’t go back. He raced to the edge of town, shaking with anxious adrenaline. Foot itched at every stop light, jumped at every car, expected to be pulled over and slammed against a hood with every passing second. He had run from cops before but Dean knew this wasn’t the same. Bred by Crowley the cops here would be hellhounds on his tail until they devoured him, or until he got out of the state.
Dean headed north-east, drove just to feel the wind in his hair, the purr of Baby beneath him (she sounded better than she ever had). Ran and it felt good, felt right. Ran up to the edge of the sunflower state until he realized where he was going, like he was on autopilot. He pulled over on I-635 just under a sign that greeted “Welcome to Kansas”. Normally a bright blue like the endless sky it was a dreary gray, overcast sky, the threat of heavy rain. Dean gripped the steering wheel tight with red-rimmed eyes, steeling himself for what he had to do. He reached into his pocket to pull out his cellphone. That and the wallet in his back-pocket where all he could take with him. Dean ran down the list of numbers and pressed dial.
Heart was pounding in his chest as the other end rang: once, twice, three times, voicemail. Was still shaking as he listened. “It’s me,” he said, after the beep. “Look I know I’ve left messages before and I don’t even know if you get them but this time…this time’s different.” Swallowed, throat constricted. “I fucked up. I fucked up so bad and I- I don’t know what to do.” Ran a hand across his face, brushed back hot tears. “I need your help, okay? Please. Dad.”
Dropped the phone in his lap and laid his head on the wheel to steady himself. Felt dizzy even though he wasn’t moving. Cars passed by, counted them like minutes and after the fifth his phone rang. Dean sat up stiffly, hesitated for a split second and then answered.
“I’ve been waiting for this call for a long time.” Voice on the other end gruff and stern, only thing that could make Dean sit up straight and stare at attention. “Been waiting for you to get your head screwed on right. Started to think it would never come.”
“Dad,” he said, like a plea.
“Cops looking for you?” John asked.
“Yeah.”
“Alright,” not the first time they’ve had this conversation. “Take the back roads, keep to the speed limit, don’t do anything dumb to call attention to yourself. Got that?"
"Yessir."
"How far out are you?”
“Few hours.”
“Okay,” John confirmed. There was a long pause, each apprehensively waiting for the other. “Could have come home anytime you wanted,” his Dad finally said. “Didn’t have to wait till you were in trouble.”
Dean hung up, gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. Deep breath. Pulled back onto the highway and drove into the approaching storm.
|
“It does not look too terrible,” Aoi mumbled, her fingers running our the large bandages covering your arms, “In a few weeks it will barely even be noticeable.
You do not bother to hide your trembling lip from her, “How can I be a slayer with useless arms? I cannot even feed myself let alone lift a sword.”
She sighed, putting away the excess cloth, “You will have to stay here a few more weeks to recover, and then you should be mostly back to normal. Even though Shinobu managed to create an antidote, the poison tore up the veins in your arms. It is going to take your body some time to heal.”
“I should be out there helping, not sitting in this bed,” small tears gathered in the corners of your eyes. You have already been recovering for two weeks, the thought of being trapped in this bed any longer was going to drive you mad.
Aoi awkwardly rubbed your back, “Don’t be so hard on yourself, you assisted in taking down two powerful demons. Even if you had not been injured you deserved a break, we were all beginning to wonder if you ever slept.”
“I have slept plenty, I am ready to get back out there,” You lift one bandaged arm, trying to ignore the pain the movement caused to examine the damage. “Are you sure there is no way to speed the healing up, I am willing to try anything?”
“No slayer, the only thing that will make you better is rest and food. Thought if you would like to recover more efficiently I do have one suggestion.”
Your upper body lurches forward, your nose almost slamming into Aoi’s face, “What, what is it?”
“Well, you are not the only slayer I am caring for at the moment, this means you do not get the full attention you need to heal quickly. If you knew someone who could care at all times your body would heal much faster.”
You groan falling back to the bed, “Not this again.”
“All I am saying is you should tell them what happened,” Aoi grabbed a washcloth and brought it towards your face, “I know they would come in a heartbeat to help with your recovery.”
“I already told you, I don’t want them to see me like this, I look pathetic.”
“You look like someone who was injured slaying a demon, there is nothing pathetic about that.” She wrings the water out of the cloth and wipes down your chest, “What is pathetic is to continue to write them pretending nothing is wrong because you are too scared of rejection.”
Your upper lip curls up, “What makes you so sure they would come to care for an injured slayer.”
Aoi scoffed, lifting your arm to bring your wrist to your face, “Last time a checked Uzui does not gift a gold bracelet to every slayer that visits his house to recover.”
You could not wiggle your arm free from her hold, the muscles still too weak to respond to your commands, “It was a parting gift, nothing more.”
“A parting gift really?” She pulls your arm closer to her face examining the intricate engraving on the gold band, “A gold band that is a match to the gold bands on his arms is only a parting gift.”
“Yes,” you growl trying fruitlessly to pull your wrist free.
She rolls her eyes, releasing your arm, “You are so deep in denial. How can you possibly convince yourself that they feel nothing for you? They practically begged you to become theirs, the only reason you are not recovering in their bed right now is that you are too scared to ask.”
“You can’t know that for sure,” you mumble, looking at the stack of letters by your bedside.
“Really, then let’s test my theory,” She pulls one of the blank sheets of paper off of the small table and hands it to you, “tell them what happened to you and where you are staying, you do not even need to ask them for help. I guarantee by tomorrow they will all be here fighting for the chance to take care of you.”
“And if you are wrong?”
She rubs the bottom of her chin, “Hm, If I am wrong I will clear my schedule and wait on your hand and foot until you are fully recovered.” A sly smile spreads across her face, “But if I am right you must buy me a new hair clip, a nice one, not one of those cheap ones at the market.”
“I feel like this is a lose-lose situation,” you groan, squeezing your eyes shut.
“Nu-uh, you have nothing to lose because they will come to take care of you. Well, you will be out at least five yen, the hair clip I want does not come cheap.”
“How is this not extortion,” you growl, trying to find a way out of this.
“Oh please, you can so dramatic. All you have to do is write a short letter telling them you were injured and will not be able to see them for a few weeks. Don’t you think they deserve an explanation for why you have not been visiting?”
You open your eyes to glare at her, “that was a low blow.”
“Well I am tired of hearing your whining, it was pathetic a week ago, not it is just sad.” She thors the rag into the bowl of water, “I am trying to be sympathetic but honestly you are being dull. They are in love with you, they want you. The only reason you are alone is that you are acting like a coward, and that is coming from me.”
“What if they had changed their mind while I was gone? I could not handle going back to being nothing to them.”
Her eyes softened, she reached out and laid her hand over yours, “And this is better? You only eve speak to them in letters, exchanging small talk about demons and the weather. I cannot guarantee they have not changed their minds but can you really lie there and tell me it is not worth it to ask?”
You open and close your mouth, you could not argue with what she was saying. Truth be told they were worth the risk, even a day with them would be worth a lifetime of pain but a small ounce of self-preservation still held you back, “I’m scared,” you whisper, “I don’t think I could survive their rejection.”
“Uzui already told you how they felt, the only reason they are not at your bedside right now is that you have not told them you are injured. They would drop everything and travel here, all you need to do is ask, I promise they will not say no.”
“Aoi,” you whimper, “please can we drop this.”
She gave your hand one gentle squeeze, “Fine, I will drop it, for now, you are due for your meds anyways.”
Fuck, “Do I need to take all of those? They make my head feel funny.”
She laughed, “Trust me, the only reason you are not screaming in pain is because of these meds, your nerves are still very inflamed from the venom, missing even one dose will make you wish you had let the demon finish you off.”
“Here,” she raises the small cup to your lips, “drink up.”
You hold your breath and open your mouth letting the bitter liquid slide down your throat. “Ugh, that is terrible.”
“It tastes awful but there is nothing we have found to even be half as effective.” she stands up, wiping her pants, “You make sure to call for assistance if you need something, this medication has a strong impact on the level of consciousness, some people report dreamlike states where-”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” you wave off her speech already having heard it a dozen times. “Don’t stand up by yourself, don’t sign anything, don’t talk to strangers, make sure you are not hallucinating before you go to the bathroom.”
“Alright I’ll check on you in a bit,” She points her finger, her lip curling up, “But so help me if I find you out of bed, I refuse to have a slayer injured on my watch.”
You nod, too weak to even think about leaving the bed the medication already making the world around you spin. With nothing else to do you work on controlling your breathing, each small breath allowing you to lessen the effects of the drug in your system.
The sky outside your window darkened leaving you in complete darkness, you try to fight off the heaviness of your eyelids but each blink was a battle. Soon you had no choice but to allow them to close, your mind finally resiting.
You used to love sleep, allowing your mind to turn off was heavenly. But ever since you left the Sound estate you found your mind wandering places it should not. Tonight was no different once sleep finally overtook you.
The dreams always started out the same, you would arrive at the large estate exhausted and starving. Each member would swarm around you, now having the routine down you were in a warm bath only moments later while food was being heated.
When your skin was clean and hair groomed they would listen to your adventures as you eat, Suma flinching whenever you even mentioned a demon getting too close. Hinatsuru would ask about the places you got to see while traveling and Makio would want to know all about the demon you slew. Tengen always ended up pulling you into his lap after you finished your meal, gently rubbing your thigh as you talk with the girls.
When your eyes grew heavy and your head starts to nod forward Tengen would gently guide you back to their room. Your breathing would grow haggard, already trembling with excitement, the exhaustion fading away.
You bring your hand down your stomach, there was no harm in letting yourself feel pleasure as you dream, after all, no one has to know what you are doing while you think about a married man and his wives.
Dreaming was your only escape from the cruel world you lived in, here your arms were not injured and you were surrounded by the people you love.
Tengen would be the first in this realm to take charge, using his hand to position you exactly where he wanted. Your legs were spread open wide, one knee held by Suma whose eager eyes watched as Tengen’s mouth licked a trail up your thigh, collecting the juices that had covered them.
“Tengen,” you whine, your voice cracking, “Please don’t tease me.”
“Shh little slayer, I want to savor my meal,” Tengen groaned, using his tongue to clean your other thigh. Your dreams always felt so real but tonight was different, before his touch felt muffled, as if someone was touching you through a sheet. As his hot tongue runs up your inner thigh its warm wet heat nearly has your back arching off the bed.
Your head falls back, now resting in the lap of Makio. “Relax,” she muttered, her hands trailing down your chest to latch onto your swollen nipples, “We have all night.”
“Have to take my time with you,” Tengen cooed, one finger slinging through the middle of your slick folds, “Your pretty hole needs to be niced and stretched if it is going to take my cock tonight.”
His slick fingers circle around your entrance, giving you a moment’s warning before breeching your tight cunt. Your thighs shake, your muscles working to close but Hinatsusu joins in holding you open leaving you completely exposed to Tengen as he got to work.
“My, my, one finger and you are already creaming all over me.” He tsks his tongue, “Such a needy girl, how long have you been walking around with the mess?” His curious red eyes gazed at the pussy spread before him, admiring how you twitched around one finger.
“Is it our fault you are this messy? Were you thinking about us on your walk here naughty girl?”
“Tengen, don’t talk like that,” you order weakly, barely able to speak your cheeks flaming with embarrassment.
His lips curled into a devilish smirk, “You don’t have to pretend with us,” the finger inside you curled up. The entire room could heat the vigorous thumping of your heart against your chest, nearly ribbing from its cage. “Relax your legs, little slayer, let us see this sweet pussy.”
You could deny him nothing, your these thighs fell open completely, your puffy lips spreading to reveal your tight clit. You were breathing heavily, too nervous to be in control as they all admired your pulsating cunt. Your fearful eyes scanned each member, watching their reaction carefully.
“Fuck,” Suma moaned, her hands gripping your knee tightly, “It is not fair you get her first Tengen.” Her mouth was already drooling at the sight of such a beautiful woman spread open in front of her, a beautiful pussy just waiting to be feasted on. She was half tempted to push Tengen out of the way and fulfill her craving.
“Wait your turn Suma,” Tengen growled, adding another finger to tease you, “little one will need your tongue to clean up the mess I am about to make.”
You want to bring your hands up to hide your face too embarrassed to focus on but for some reason, you could not move the appendages so you had to settle on looking up at the ceiling. Only that proved to be even worse as Makio’s full breasts now filled your vision.
“Hey there,” she smiled, her fingers pinching your nipples and pulling on them until they grew stiff, “Like the view.”
Your train of thought crashed at her teasing smile, you look down only to see Hinatsuru slip off her own dress, her blush rose nipples hardening when exposed to the air. Taking advantage of your distracted mind Tengen’s clever tongue flickered across your tender clit. Your body jumps shocked at the immediate pleasure his mouth brings.
He seemed to enjoy your flavor, his hand settling under your hip so he can tilt it up giving him even easier access. He breathed in the scent of your arousal, preening as the sounds of your moans filled his ears, your head thrown back in pure bliss.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Suma trail one hand down her own abdomen, circling her small clit frantically as she watched Tengen lap up your juices.
“Oh, it feels so good,” you pant, your back arching up as he sucks the bud onto his mouth, using the tip of his tongue to draw small circles.
“Fuck,” He mumbled, releasing the suction. “I could feast on this cunt for hours. Your taste is divine.” His hot breath fanned against the tender flesh. “How does that sound, do you think you could handle me for a few hours?”
You shake your head, already at the end of your rope.
‘Mmh, shame, we will have to work on building up your endurance,” he lowered his mouth again, adding another finger to your cunt loving the vice grip you had around the digits. Fuck his cock was already throbbing at the idea of your pretty pussy spasming around his length as he stretches you out.
“T-Tengen, please, I-I think I am going to come,” you screamed, your back arching off the bed.
Makio pushed down on your shoulders, holding you steady as your legs started to shake. Having no mercy Tengen increased the pace of his fingers now scissoring inside you as he worked throbbing clit with his lips. It was not long until the strong tingle in your abdomen rapidly spread throughout your body.
You could feel your hold clench around his fingers as your body convulsed, your mouth open in a silent scream. Tengen continued to milk the pleasure from your exhausted body, only stopping when you fell limp under him.
The only sound in the room was your frantic breathing. You always woke up like that, startled awake by what you had been dreaming about. Only tonight was different because instead of waking up cold and alone you were surprisingly warm.
“I know you are awake little one, open your eyes already,” a deep familiar voice laughed.
Immediately your eyes slammed open but nothing could have prepared you for the sight you encountered. Tengens chin was glistening, his eyes full of hunger you have never seen. On each side of you were Suma and Hinatsuru holding open your limp legs. Your head falls back onto a pair of soft thighs.
“I was beginning to wonder if you would ever wake up,” Makio laughed from above you, her hands on either side of your head.
“W-What is happening?” you look down at the unimaginable sight of Tengen in between your spread thighs, your mind nearly breaking as you try to piece together everything.
“Aoi sent us a letter saying you were injured,” Hinatsuru brushed her hand up your thigh, “We rushed here as quickly as we could once we heard the news. We did you not tell us sooner you were hurt we would have been here the day you arrived?”
“You were here for a week and you did not bother to let us know you were hurt,” Makio growled from above you, the lust decorating her face now gone. “Were you ever going to tell us?”
“I-I,” your breathing starts to grow frantic, what in the hell was happening? One minute you were dreaming and the next your dream becomes a reality. “I don’t understand what is happening,” you mumble your mind fuzzy, “When did you all get here? Why are you in between my legs?”
“Shh,” Suma moved up from her place at your legs and grabbed one of your bandaged hands, “I know you are probably really confused so let me explain.”
You nod, eager to understand the world around you.
“We arrived here less than thirty minutes ago, we all rushed here when we heard the news of your injury from Aoi’s letter,” she paused to give you time to process the information. “When we got here you were sound asleep, Aoi said you would not be up for hours, we were going to take turns watching over you, but when Tengen tried to leave to get some food you yelled out for him to stop teasing you.”
Your breathing stops, your mind replaying the events of earlier, “I spoke out loud,” you whispered.
Tengen snorts, “You did more than speak little one, you begged me to touch you.”
Your mouth falls open in horror, “What happened after that?”
Tengen looked down at your exposed sex, “Well, we tried leaving, wanting you to get some rest but we are only human, how could we resist those little whimpers begging for more?”
“Y-You mean-”
“That I ate your little pussy while you begged for more?”
A startled squeak left your lips at his confession, “You did?”
A wolfish grin spread across his face, “Oh yes darling, I did.”
Your face was so hot you were sure you could fry an egg on your cheeks, “You mean my dream was real, it all happened?”
“Regretfully I cannot see into your beautiful mind but judging by what you were whimpering I would say your flamboyant dream matched pretty well to what we were doing.”
You wanted to bury yourself in a hole, the noises you had been making were mortifying, the idea that anyone heard them, let alone the four people at your side was enough to make you combust.
“Don’t look so embarrassed,” Hinatsuru cooed, “Watching you find pleasure was beautiful, I could watch it every day and never grow tired of that sight.”
Tengen hummed in agreement, “And the flamboyant sounds you made were enough to nearly push me over the edge, if not for my training I would already be staining the sheets with my seed.”
“Wait, you all arrived here to help with my recovery after Aoi sent you a letter telling you about my condition?”
Hinatsuru nodded, patting her hand gently against your, “We left as soon as we heard, we were so worried, she told us how close you were to-to dying.” She choked out a sob, “Why would you not call for us,” her lips pressed into a thin line, “Did you not want us to come here?”
“No,” you try to reach out but your arms could not respond, “That is not it at all,” You look down wishing you had on clothes, you already felt so exposed, “I did not want to bother you.”
“Bother us?” Tengen echoed, lifting himself up into a sitting position between your legs. “Is that what you think you are? A bother.”
You take advantage of his move, pushing your thighs together to gather some privacy, “Not exactly-”
Tengen runs his hand through his loose hair, “I thought I took care of your doubt the night you left but it seems you still have some doubts where you stand in this relationship.”
He looks over at the woman by your side with a new, darker look in his eye, “Darlings would your hold her legs for me please, I believe we need to teach the little runaway here her place.”
“Hey wait,” you try to scramble away but Suma and Hinatsuru locked onto your legs anchoring you in place.
“Hm,” Tengen’s hand rested under his chin, “On second thought flip her around, I want that flamboyant ass in the air.”
“Ah,” you squeak as you are tossed in the air and gently flipped around, landing on the bed with your arms held behind your back, your cheek squished against the mattress.
“W-What are you doing,” you try to look over your shoulder but the position they place you in prevents you from being able to see anything.
“I have tried being a patient little one, I waited weeks for you to finally confess your feelings, and what is my reward for this? A letter telling me how you almost died. Can you even imagine how that made us feel? You almost died having never been ours.”
His large hand runs up your slick thigh, “And now you lie here in the bed speaking about not wanting to bother us!” His large hand comes down across your ass laying a sharp spank. “I refuse to believe the only reason you did not ask for our help is that you did not want to be a bother.” Another sharp sting spreads across your ass as his hand descends, “So tell me the truth, why are you running away from us?”
“I-I can’t” you sob, burying your face into the sheets.
“Wrong answer,” Another precise slap arrives on your skin, the sharp tingle spreading through your body, lighting your skin on fire.
“Please tell us why you do not want to be with us,” Hinatsuru whispered, her lips kissing away the tears gathered in the corner of your eyes, “What did we do wrong?”
“Nothing,” you sob, “you did nothing wrong, it’s me that is wrong.”
“What is wrong with you?” Makio asked, shoving Hinatsuru out of the way, “Because from my viewpoint you are perfect.”
“I’m not,” you turn your face to bury your head onto the mattress needing to hide, “And one day you will see that and want nothing to do with me. And then what,” your chest heaves, too tired to resist letting it all out, “I will be left all alone.”
“Darling,” Tengen cooed, his hand running up your naked back where your loose shirt had ridden up, “Do you truly believe we would leave you?”
You nod your head, your throat too tight to let you speak.
“But that is not true, I could never get tired of you!” Suma yelled, pushing Hinatsuru out of the way for her turn. “The way you hold me when I cry, and how you make sure Hinatsuru will buy my favorite food when at the market. The way you make sure that each of us feels included, can’t you see we will never get enough of you?”
Tenge’s hand settled on the flaming skin of your ass, massaging the sore tissue, “If you think for one minute I am ever letting you go then I have failed at making you feel appreciated.” His hand stops at the back of your neck, gently squeezing the column, “Because this is something I could never live without. Your smile, your kindness, your love, your flamboyant attitude, I need all of it.”
His bodyweight presses over you, his long erection settling in between the cheeks of your ass, “Now little one, I am going to show you how you belong to me,” the head of his cock slides down to settle on the outside of your entrance, “After this, there is no question you belong to us do you understand?”
You glace back in shock, watching helplessly as his hips thrust forward, the large head piercing into your tight hole.
A small whimper leaves your throat as the burning stretch nearly becomes too much, he was so fucking big that even with his fingers stretching you earlier there was no way he was going to be able to fit all of it inside you.
“Fuck,” he hissed from above you, his hand braced against your tailbone as he sank into your warmth. “You are so tight.”
Your hands reach out looking for something to hold onto and two warm hands answer your call, their fingers intertwining with yours.
“You are doing so perfect,” Hintsuru hummed, kissing your knuckles. You squeeze down around their hands as hard as you could, your legs trembling as another inch slides inside.
Just when your thought It would all become too much his cock finally kissed the end of your hole. He froze for a few seconds giving your poor pussy time to adjust to his intrusion. This gave Makio just enough time to fulfill her plan.
Manipulating your body she adjusts your arms until your weight was settled onto your hands, your elbows locked and your ass in the air where Tengen was buried to the hilt. With the help of Suma she carefully lifted your body until she could easily slide under you, her mouth now directly under your dripping cunt.
“H-Hey,” you whine, Makio’s pussy now directly under your face, her breasts pressing against your upper thighs, “What are you doing?”
“This,” She groaned, using her fingers to spread open the lips of your pussy and latch onto your throbbing bundle. You nearly fall forward, the combined attack overwhelming.
Tengen, not one to be outdone drew his hips back, his cock slowly withdrawing from your abused hole only to slam back in. The strength of his thrusts had his balls collide with the top of Makio’s head but she did not seem to mind, in fact, it seemed to egg her on, she grew even more aggressive in pleasing you. Her tongue lashed across your clit as she sucked on the tender bud.
The tongue on your cunt vibrated as Makio let out a low groan. Tengen continued to plow into you in a purposeful rhythm, each thrust well aimed to nail the upper part inside your pussy making black spots appear in your vision each time he hit it.
Your fingers dig into the sheets as you hold on for dear life.
“You feel that,” Tengen growled, his cock kissing the end of your hole, “Feel how deep inside you I am?” His hand came down to slap your ass, “This pussy is mine little one, not yours, mine, and if you think you can keep me from this pussy then I will have to fuck you until you are too tired to argue.”
“Tengen,” you sobbed, your head falling forward. Suma shifted forward, her hands giving your head a comfortable place to rest on Makio’s thighs as the pair worked to drive you even higher. Your legs were shaking uncontrollably, as the throbbing in your clit started to spread. Your chest grew too tight for you to even breathe.
Tengen kept his movements steady while Makio’s tongue worked wonders on your clit, sucking on the tight bud whole flicking her tongue over the tip. It was not long until your mouth opened into a silent scream, your entire body tense as you come all over Makio’s face, your sweet juices coating her tongue as you convulse.
Makio greedily lapped up the mess as you continued to come on her face, the pleasure too strong to let you relax until another mind-shattering sensation overtook you. This time the tingling spread to your head making the world begging to grow hazy as your breathing stopped. You were sure you were screaming but you could hear nothing over the sound of your own pounding heartbeat.
With the high gone your breathing decreased slightly but Tengen was still going, his fat cock continuing to stretch your clenching hole. You lie there and let him lay his claim, too tired to even speak.
When it almost became too much mercifully his cock started to pulse and seconds later his hot cum began to fill you, leaving no inch uncovered. Only when he was sure every drop had emptied inside you did he pull his hips back, admiring how your gaping hole clenched around nothing, his cum already leaking out.
Makio’s magical tongue gave one last long lick up your slit before she shuffled out from under you. You close your eyes for a few seconds, trying to collect your bearings while the world around you spun. One strong arm wrapped around your waist, gently manipulating your body until you were settled on your back.
You did not even jump when a soft tongue began to clean your throbbing sex, lapping away the mess Tengen had created. Another careful pair of hands brought your head into their lap, their fingers tracing the lines of your face. The last pair of hands dragged a warm cloth across your drenched body.
You snuggle into their hold, letting them each care for you in their own unique way. Only when the cloth grew cold and the tongue on your sex stilled did you crack open one eye.
“How are you feeling?” Hinatsuru asked, wringing out the wet cloth into a basin.
“Fuzzy,” you mumble, turning your head to bury your face deeper into Makio’s lap.
“Do you understand now?” Tengen hummed, his callused fingers rubbing across the back of your injured hand. Do you understand how much we love you little one?”
“I-I,” you press your lips together, how could you make them understand what you were thinking. They all knew early in life they would belong to each other forever but they have barely known you for a year.
“I want to,” you whisper, “I want to believe more than anything that you love me.”
You press your thighs together wincing at the ache in your sex, “But I don’t think I will ever be sure of your feelings for me. It is just too good to be true.”
Tengen barked in protest but you continued, “But the one thing I am sure of is my feelings for all of you. The days I was able to spend with all of you were the happiest of my life and I want nothing more than to give you all of my days. I am yours.”
Hinatsuru shot forward her arms wrapping around your shoulders, pulling you into her chest. “We love you so much,” she sobbed, burying her face in your shoulder, “And we will spend all of our time making sure you never doubt that.”
Suma joins in on the hug, her body pressing against your back, “I won’t let go until you believe us.” She declared, tightening her arms even more.
Makio laughed, pushing Suma to the side so she could have room to join in, “I think it will be fun to convince you our feelings are permanent, I love a good challenge.”
“Hm,” Tengen’s large hand settled on top of your head, urging it back until his gaze was able to meet yours, “I agree with Makio, getting you to believe us sounds like a very interesting challenge,” he leans in closer, his lips brushing against your forehead, “One I am happy to spend the rest of my life on.” |
“I’ll admit I’m surprised - there really was a Nigel.” Sherlock slammed his laptop closed with a bit more force than was strictly necessary and resumed the pacing he’d been doing off and on for the better part of the last twenty-four hours. “No evidence to suggest it was anything other than was officially recorded - a twenty-two-year-old omega who perished in a house fire caused by faulty wiring.”
John looked up from his own computer. “You think they combed the obituaries for someone who fit the profile?”
“Likely.” Sherlock growled in frustration, then collapsed back into his armchair with a dramatic flail of his arms. “Still doesn’t get us anywhere, though.”
“So - trap.” John sighed. “You’re going to suggest we just go and see what happens, aren’t you?”
Sherlock shrugged, which was an impressive feat given the awkward angle of all four of his limbs in relation to the chair. “Why - afraid of a little danger?”
“I try to be reasonable about danger, you twit.” John knew when he was going to be giving in, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. “At least let me get your brother in on the loop.”
Sherlock pouted, but he did eventually acquiesce to Mycroft rigging them both with some minimal equipment and providing a back-up force to remain on call at a discreet distance. Only to be summoned if absolutely necessary, of course. John vetoed either of them actually wearing a wire (“trivial to pick up the signal, and then we’d lose the advantage of surprise because they’d know we came prepared”) but allowed the vitals trackers.
“Really not fond of allowing my brother to inject anything into me with a needle,” Sherlock grumbled.
“It’s just for emergencies,” John reassured him. “And I’ll do the injection if you’re so bloody squeamish. The microchip just records temperature and heart rate and only emits a broadcast if the numbers go outside normal ranges. If you don’t want our backup listening in on our conversations, these are the way to go. Optimal, really, in these types of situations - even if something goes wrong, they won’t know that we’ve got a way to communicate until it’s already activated. I practically wore one around the clock in Afghanistan - it’s no big deal.”
Sherlock relented. Insertion was tricky - the tiny casing had to fit snugly against the femoral artery, which involved John putting his face entirely too close to Sherlock’s crotch - but by 2 AM Thursday morning they were ready to go. John threw his gun in his coat pocket and then they were off to investigate what was probably a huge mistake.
***
“Much as it pains me to say this, you were right about it being a trap.”
John kept his eyes closed, but he shook his head in an attempt to shake off some of the residual grogginess. His memories since leaving the flat were a bit fuzzy - they’d arrived at the seemingly-empty warehouse, Sherlock had dragged him around the warren of upstairs offices for a while, and then - nothing. John rolled over onto his back and groaned. “Really wish I’d been wrong.”
“If it helps, I didn’t see anyone either. I suspect we were gassed.” There was a clinking noise and a shuffle - Sherlock moving? John forced his eyes open.
“Bloody hell.” It took a moment, with his slowed mental faculties, to fully take in the sight of Sherlock Holmes chained naked to a wall. Literally chained - there were what looked like leather cuffs around his wrists and ankles, straight from the kinkier variety of sex shop, but the cuffs were all connected to a bolt in the wall with what looked like nautical chain. Heavy-duty, anyway. It took a moment longer to realize that he himself was in the same state. “Bloody hell,” he repeated.
“My sentiments exactly.” Sherlock had the grace to look a bit sheepish, at least. “I suspect you took a bigger breath of it than I did - I’ve been trying to get you to wake up for nearly ten minutes now.”
“Sorry.” John tried to force his thoughts into some semblance of coherence, but failed miserably. Sherlock bloody Holmes, naked. Again. “Um. Yeah, sorry. But what the fuck?” He raised one leather-wrapped wrist and inspected it. Sturdy construction, serious padlock, thick chain - not worming my way out of these. Not without losing some fingers, at any rate, and that still wouldn’t address the cuffs around his bare ankles. Stuck, then.
Sherlock glanced meaningfully up at the vent in the wall, which John interpreted to mean be careful because we are being watched and/or overheard, but then he sighed and slumped back against the wall behind him. “Now we wait,” he drawled.
“Well obviously. For what?”
“For the phanthoterazine to take effect.”
John goggled at him. “A heat inducer? Sherlock, are you sure?” He eyed the stretch of floor between them - even if they both pulled their chains to the maximum length, there would still be a good meter of space separating them. Not really conducive to a forced bonding scenario-
Sherlock gave him a significant look. “I’m sure. You do recall my history.”
Right. Sherlock’s mythical past with experimental drugs. Phanthoterazine wasn’t exactly a recreational substance, though - it was mostly used for omegas with hormonal problems who couldn’t go into heat the normal way. It had some rather unpleasant side effects and tended to make the omega’s heat uncomfortably strong, so nobody in their right mind would take it for . . .
Oh. Sherlock was still staring at him, but his lips quirked into a hint of a smile when John suddenly got it. Side effects. Inhibitors. Frequent narcotic use was a significant factor in rendering phanthoterazine unreliable - it magnified the pheromonal output of the omega, but removed almost all the mental “high” of the heat. Meaning Sherlock was about to smell very delicious, very quickly, but he wasn’t going to actually be feeling any of it. “Shit,” John said aloud. “Sherlock - why?”
“One possibility is that your Mary is secretly a matchmaker working for my brother.” Sherlock snorted. “Given the chains, though, I think it’s much more likely that your presence is supposed to goad me into a heat more quickly.”
Yes, John supposed it would - now that Sherlock pointed it out, John could already smell the tantalizing omega pheromones starting to fill the small room. He cleared his throat to distract from the effect that was having on the rest of him. Hopefully his increased body temperature and heart rate would set off his vitals monitor before anything truly embarrassing happened. “I see that,” he said, “but . . . why?”
Sherlock literally rolled his eyes at that. Not even going to pretend he’s feeling the effects of the phanthoterazine, then. “Seriously, you can’t think of a reason Mary and her brother would want me in heat? Desperate for an alpha’s cock? Ready to present my arse to whoever could fill it first?”
Fuck. John didn’t realize he was literally growling until after the sound had escaped his throat. “They want you to bond with someone.”
“I’m quite the catch, if you haven’t heard.” There was a heavy note of bitterness in Sherlock’s voice. “A virgin omega with a hefty trust fund. Which will be released into my alpha’s control on the occasion of my bonding, by the way. I suspect your presence will serve a dual purpose - to speed my heat along and to also provide an . . . incentive . . . should I refuse to cooperate at the moment of bonding.”
“They’ll threaten to kill me.”
Sherlock nodded slightly. “You’ll see I really have no choice, then. All we can do now is wait.”
***
They waited. It took fewer than ten minutes for John to give up on hiding his erection - they were both naked, after all, and it wasn’t like he was fooling anyone. Sherlock smelled bloody delicious. He was starting to sport an erection too, John noticed, although in Sherlock’s case it appeared to be somewhat of an afterthought.
Fuck. There were very few things John feared, after all his time in service of his country, but being literally chained to the fucking wall and forced to watch while Sherlock was raped was apparently near the top of the list. If only the bloody vitals monitor would kick in-
“Sherlock.” John widened his eyes, forced himself to look a bit farther gone than he actually was. Sherlock would be able to tell the difference, he was sure, but whoever was watching them might not. “Please - tell me. What you’d let me do to you if I could reach you.”
Sherlock frowned, but then the incongruence in John’s words hit him and he blinked in surprise. “You want me to . . . purposely rile you up?”
John very deliberately slid his palm up his naked thigh - pausing over the site of the monitor - before dragging it over his bollocks and letting it rest on his cock.
He could see the moment when the realization hit. Sherlock sucked in a breath and pursed his lips in a silent “oh.” Which, damn it, was already tempting enough to have John’s cock literally jumping in his hand.
“You smell so good,” John admitted. “And Christ, if I’m never going to get to fuck you for real, the least you could do is describe it to me. This is bloody awkward, but maybe once I’ve had a wank I’ll be able to think more clearly.”
“Doubtful.” Sherlock’s gaze was locked on where John’s hand was slowly sliding up and down his cock, though, and he was putting on a good show of gradually becoming convinced. Gradually being overcome by hormones, at least. “We’re not going to be able to avoid the awkwardness, though.”
“Nope.” John slid his thumb over his slit and groaned aloud. “I’ve kept my hands off for so long, Sherlock - fuck, I don’t care if Mary or her brother are watching us. I want to come and I want that sinfully gorgeous voice of yours narrating as I do. Come on - you’re wet already, aren’t you? I can smell it.”
Sherlock bit his lip, but after a long moment he nodded. It was like something had snapped in the room - the tension which had been building was suddenly gone, replaced only by the knowledge that - as bloody strange as this was - John was going to be getting off and Sherlock was going to be helping make that happen. The sooner they got John’s heart rate up, the sooner they could be rescued. All that was left was to give in.
“Right then,” John panted. “Tell me.” |
“Jungkook, I swear to God if you don’t get your ass here in this very second!”
Jimin exclaimed as he waited in the Maybach SUV. He shook his head as he opened the door, throwing their chief guard a questioning glance. The man instantly mumbled orders in his earpiece.
A moment later, he spoke.
“Jimin-ssi, they said that he is still eating in the buffet.”
He lowered his head slightly, probably to conceal his endeared smile but Jimin was having none of it. He had half a mind to ask Sunghoon to drive him home immediately and leave the brat, but they’d promised Taehyung to go shopping after the vocal lesson so said brat had to be present.
“Jesus, he never grows up.”
He rolled his eyes and stepped out of the car, planning to head back up and drag Jungkook with him but he was met with a rather unusual sight— one of their oldest guards was stepping out of the company’s lobby, carrying on his shoulders none other than Jungkook. The guard was a beta, had known them before Jungkook’s presentation so the alpha trusted him enough to let him carry him as he munched on his anpan.
Jimin had to suppress a laugh as the pair approached them.
“Yah! Jeon Jungkook, what the hell were you thinking making me wait for nearly an hour in the car?”
He got on his tippy toes, trying and failing to reach the younger’s butt.
The guard sent him an apologetic look and proceeded to slowly put the unbothered man down.
“Do yall hear something?” Jungkook questioned the two guards and looked around, purposely keeping his head a little higher so as not to ‘see’ Jimin.
Jimin smirked and walked closer to the alpha.
“Keep this up and you won’t be coming for a week, dear maknae.”
Jungkook’s eyes widened at the threat. He shook his head violently and grabbed Jimin’s forearm.
“Ah, Jimin-hyung. I didn’t see you.”
He smiled with his bunny teeth and Jimin felt like sucking the grin off his face.
“Whatever. Let’s go. Tae must be waiting.”
He walked back to the car, not before stealing Jungkook’s anpan and stuffing it in his mouth. He giggled when he heard the younger’s whine and got in the passenger seat.
A guard closed the door and, from the corner of his eyes, Jimin noticed Sunghoon pointing for the two Cadillacs to get ready.
Jungkook eventually got in the driver seat, pouty lips and everything. He started the car just as the first SUV took off before them. Feeling slightly generous, Jimin reached out to his lover and caressed his palm.
“It’s okay, baby. We can get something at the mall.”
He smiled as he noticed the younger’s pout instantly disappear and chuckled when he drove away quickly, their second guards’ car following close by.
It always felt like they were driving in a motorcade whenever they went anywhere— there were at least two Cadillacs, one in front of them and one behind them, at all times. And Jimin isn’t too fond of that. However, the hyungs were very dismissive whenever he brought the subject up, and after having to sit through a whole lecture about the importance of their clan in the world (both as superstars and businessmen) he just learned to live with it. Besides, it was quite cool how they never had to wait in traffic.
They’d been driving for a couple of minutes, hands interlaced as Jungkook hummed softly to the melody of their upcoming title track— “A Poem For Small Things” was what they decided to call it, although Jimin worried that it would upset the fans. He’d have to talk to Namjoon about it.
“Hyung.”
Jungkook’s voice was pensive as he looked to his right.
“Yeah?”
“I think someone's following us.”
Jimin jerked up at that, quickly reaching for his phone.
“The fuck? I need to..”
Jungkook’s hand came to halt his movement as he fidgeted to call their chief guard.
“Chill. If we tell Sunghoon-ssi, he will immediately report to Jin-hyung and we’ll have to sit through another meeting where they try to convince us to work from home. I don’t want that.”
Jimin’s frown deepened as he took in his lover’s words.
“But what if it’s…”
“Dispatch?”
Jimin nodded his head, a little bit flustered at his boyfriend’s nonchalant behavior.
“And what exactly are they going to report on? What can they even see?” He shook his head and kissed Jimin’s palm. “It won’t be long until the guards notice and they would ask them to pull over. Don’t worry too much.” He ran his fingers through Jimin’s fading pink locks. “ Alpha is here.”
And out of everything he’d said, that last part was what did it for him.
Jimin felt himself melt slowly under Jungkook’s touch, subconsciously leaning until his face was pressed to his firm chest. He whined as he breathed in the alpha’s oceany scent. He closed his eyes and let its flowery undertones ease him into a relaxed state, forgetting all about his irrational fear of being followed.
And Jungkook, his little Jungkookie, was doing such a good job at calming him; whispering all the right sweet nothings into his ears and non-stop threading his strong hands softly in his hair. The omega felt like he was slowly starting to float the more time he spent in his lover’s embrace.
“It’s okay, love. I am here and our strong alphas and beta will always make sure to keep us safe.”
Jimin nodded, even in his dazed state, because yes, of course. Jimin had never even once felt unsafe when in the presence of any of his packmates. And having so many guards had nothing to do with it; it was just them . Their calming presence, their grounding voices, the love he could see in their eyes whenever they caught him swooning over them.
Their presence was all Jimin needed to be on cloud nine but alas…
“We’re almost home.”
Jungkook’s voice brought him back to reality, helping clear his mind, and he looked up. They were indeed reaching their private hill— which didn’t really mean much because driving up that hill takes more than ten minutes, but he guesses that’s just rich people’s problems. He nodded and cuddled his alpha closer.
“They’re gone.” Said Jungkook as he took the final turn before they reached the hill’s gates. Jimin could hear the frown in his voice.
“What is it?” He looked up briefly and placed a chaste kiss on his lips.
“Isn’t it weird, that they can always follow us but whenever we reach the hill they just take a turn?”
Jimin pulled back from his embrace slowly to answer his question.
“Well, it’s not like they can get past the gates anyway. There are like over one hundred guards scattered everywhere. I am pretty sure that one look at their guns would have them running the other way.”
“But that’s the thing. How come they never even tried to publish anything about us not actually living in Hannam The Hill. How come they never even tried to take a picture of the guards at the gates? I am pretty sure that it would interest a lot of people to realize that we are a lot richer than they think.”
And at that Jimin actually kept silent because Jungkook sort of did have a point.
“It’s weird right?” The pack’s maknae met his gaze.
“I don’t know Kookie.” Jimin sighed as he ruffled his own hair. “Maybe they tried but Bang PD did something to silence them.”
“Or maybe the hyungs silenced them.”
Jimin frowned.
“How? With money?”
“You seem surprised.” He tilted his head as he looked out. “There is no way that no one, and I mean, literally no one has questioned this place. I’ve never seen even one article written about the mysterious hill in Seoul that seemingly no one knows anything about.”
Jimin squinted.
“Maybe because it’s only been a week since we’ve moved in. Besides, why would they question it? Do you see people having any idea where Chaebols live?”
“No, but they ask and sometimes information gets leaked.” Jungkook reached for his phone and briefly taped on the screen. “Here. Just the other day I saw this trending on Naver. Samsung’s chairman and his wife have apparently moved to a new home, and it was all over the internet only after a few days.”
He grabbed the phone from his lover’s hand, reading the article and looking at its only picture. The portal gave away the splendor of the home it guarded, but something inside Jimin’s brain screamed that their own gates were just as imposing, if not more.
“But that’s Samsung’s chairman, Kookie. Are you comparing us to the richest man in the country?”
“No, but this…”
Jungkook sighed as they finally reached the actual gates to their house. He drove up their long driveway—seriously Jimin tried running up and down that thing the other night; he almost fainted when he finally stepped foot inside the house.
They took a right turn and went down to the garage.
Once the car parked, Jungkook stopped the engine and turned around to face him completely.
"We don't like to talk about it, because we trust them and even now I am not going to ask any questions. I am not going to ask you how it is possible for twenty-something years old people to afford to own a freaking hill and to build this mansion. I am not going to mention the fact that we've been moving every year to a bigger, more extravagant place before finally settling here. I am not going to point out the fact that our first home was half the size of this house's main kitchen nor the fact that we’ve been told mid-tour that our previous mansion burned under mysterious circumstances and were supposed to just move on with our lives." He took a deep breath, and Jimin frowned as he could feel his slight distress. "Because I trust hyungs, and because they are always right— I won't ask any questions. I won't look at all of these luxurious cars and mention that my childhood dream was to own only one of them. I won't even try to know how fucking expensive the pack gifts we got years ago were, nor ask how they could even...afford them back then. I won’t ask and you won’t as well but just know that this is a choice. I need them to know that we are choosing not to ask.”
Jimin was speechless, and for a second he just stared at Jungkook. The alpha has gotten really good at suppressing his scent these last years, which if you ask Jimin wasn’t all that great for him. So as he looked at him then, he couldn’t even smell the distress from earlier, but he noticed his worry in the little creases on his forehead. He saw how his fists were slightly clenched on the wheel even though they weren’t driving anymore. And more than anything he saw it in his shining eyes; Jungkook was worried, and frankly Jimin was as well. Because none of this made sense and for years the maknaes tried to brush it off.
They’d been informed a few months back, backstage of a show Jimin might add, that their house had burned suddenly. The hyungs had asked them not to worry about it too much because they had been planning on building a better home for the pack regardless and had blamed the incident on faulty wiring. Jimin had tried to ask if any of their staff had been harmed, but the hyungs never gave him an answer; always pulling him in for hugs or scenting, sometimes even cooing at his warm nature. And so Jimin stopped asking, that is until the hyungs came out of nowhere weeks later and mentioned that once back in Seoul they would have to stay in a villa temporarily because their new mansion wouldn’t be ready until late February. And just like that, they were supposed to be okay with it. And they did act the part. They stayed in that villa for a few weeks in total— when they came back to Korea before starting the Asian leg of the Tour, when they had to prepare for the awards season, and most recently when they had a small break before the last concerts in Japan. During that whole time they tried to get the hyungs to tell them anything about their new home but they were insisting on it being a surprise, which sounds perfect in theory but made the maknaes feel slightly helpless. The hyungs would occasionally be seen talking together while staring at plans and virtual maquettes but at that point, Jimin wasn’t even sure if they were related to their business or the mansion.
Which brings them to what happened a week ago. They were currently on a month-long break before the concerts in Hong Kong, and fortunately, they were able to finally settle in the new home. The first time they’d so much as caught a glimpse of the hill was then. The hyungs had insisted on them riding in the same car for the first time in years as soon as they landed in Seoul so that they could see all of their reactions. All three of them had been more than excited at the idea of finally seeing their home. Once they’d reached the hill’s gates, Taehyung had wondered if this was some sort of housing complex and at Yoongi’s nonchalant ‘ no this is all ours ’ the maknaes collectively choked on air.
Everything— and Jimin means everything, about the property, had left them in shock. They had driven up the hill for almost 15 minutes and Jungkook had joked about the house actually being a forest. The three of them had been asked to close their eyes which Taehyung was opposed to at first but they eventually obliged. And when the car had finally stopped, nothing could’ve prepared them for what they opened their eyes to. ‘ Heaven ’ was what someone whispered.
If Jimin was being honest, a part of him had wanted to be mad at the hyungs for not even involving them in the process of choosing their freaking home. But as he looked at it for the first time back then, and even as he looks at it now, he feels nothing but immense pride. Because this was their den , the one Jimin knew they wouldn’t ever be leaving because it was perfect. It was perfect from the outside, and when they had finally been able to walk inside, everything was even more perfect. None of the three youngest had participated in the interior design, but the home somehow screamed them and Jimin had fallen to the ground and actually cried because he could see that a few of Taehyung’s favorite paintings were hanged in the main living room. Jimin had cried because when he reached to touch the marble he found that it was his favorite, the one he had mentioned loving a lot after they’d seen it in a random showroom in New York. And he had cried even more because he saw all the gas masks they had personalized for their Serendipity Exhibition displayed down the corridor.
It hadn’t taken long enough for everyone to join him in a cuddle pile on the floor. And they had all cried, and it had been good and it was the closest they all had been physically in weeks but no one dared to comment on that.
And the house is beautiful, it’s a work of art. The hyungs had told them that they could change anything that they didn’t like, but after spending the remaining of that day marveling at the beauty of the home; at how perfect it was not only for their human side but their wolf side as well, Jimin stated that he didn’t need anything more and the two others agreed as well.
But they could only stay amazed for so long, and at night when he had lain in their private quarters, waiting for Jungkook and Taehyung to finish their bath, he had wondered. He had wondered how any of this was possible. He had looked up at the open ceiling and frowned because it was almost too good to be true. One doesn’t go from eating shit, to owning properties he didn’t even know could be built, in the span of a few years. But he had forced himself to forget all about it, he had forced himself to stop all the questions because he didn’t like doubting their hyungs, the ones who work so hard for their comfort— the ones who work too hard and sometimes forget that affection isn’t all in the material things, but that, as well, is a subject for another day.
So yes, Jungkook’s questions that he didn’t ask, were the same ones that kept him awake at night but that doesn’t mean that he will allow them to be said out loud.
He pulled Jungkook in his arms, planting soft kisses on both his eyelids and whispering quietly.
“We won’t ask.” He closed his own eyes and fought back the tears because he was scared and he was worried and trust is such a fine line. “We won’t ask, Jungkookie. Hyungs know better.”
And Jungkook nodded instantly, even as a few tears rolled down his cheeks, even as he reached for his hands and felt them shaking. So Jimin as well just held him closer because, truth be told, there wasn’t much any of them could do anyway.
▪︎▪︎▪︎
When they finally got a hold of themselves again, they silently made their way inside.
The house was surprisingly and uncharacteristically quiet, which led them to think that Haneul was probably taking his nap. Jimin checked the time and found that it was almost time for him to wake up though.
“You think he’s with Tae?”
Jungkook nodded, still a bit shaken by their conversation, and held his hand as they climbed up the stairs in silence, heading towards their shared suite.
When they opened the door, trying to make as little noise as possible, they smiled at the sight they were met with.
Taehyung, their beautiful alpha, was curled in the middle of their wide bed, holding in his arms their little pup. They both looked extremely comfortable like that, wrapped in each other’s warmth and basking in the familiarity of their scents. Because, sure, Haneul was too young to have his own scent, but his was more like a mixture of all his father’s. To Jimin, he smelled like heaven.
“Hyung,” Jungkook let out, and when Jimin turned to him he melted at how shinny his eyes were. “Go lie next to them. I wanna take a picture.”
Jimin was ready to oblige when he caught Jiwon, their pup’s nanny, passing by the suite.
“Noona.” He smiled as he waved to the older beta. “Come take a picture of us.”
The beta moved instantly, bowing slightly and smiling at both men.
“Of course, Jimin-ssi. How was your day?”
She took Taehyung’s Polaroid 9010 and Jimin’s phone, already knowing that the trio would want the picture in both formats, and motioned for them to join the sleeping boys.
"Oh good, good. Although I had to wait for this big baby to finish his food."
Jimin tugged on his lover’s sleeve, pulling him to the bed.
They curled up on Haneul’s other side, Jungkook extending his arm behind him to hold onto Taehyung’s hip. Jimin suspected that he was guided by his alpha instincts— that ever-present need to touch and hold all his pack members. He smiled broadly and turned around to plant a small kiss on his alpha’s lips.
They heard the camera shutter and the sound of the picture being printed as they kissed and Jimin felt a slight blush creeping into his cheeks; Jiwon sure as hell had perfect timing.
“Okay.” She whispered. “One more.” She raised her index as she pointed to Jimin’s phone.
Just when the omega turned around, planning to nuzzle his son’s hair, his phone started ringing.
Jiwon instantly bowed and reached to give him the device.
“Answer it outside, you’ll wake prince and pup up.”
And Jimin agreed with Jungkook as he thanked Jiwon. He took his phone hurriedly, shooting one last glance at his two babies, who were by some miracle still sleeping, and left the room.
He didn’t even bother to check the caller ID, which is always a mistake when you're trying to hide something, and answered directly.
“Yeoboseyo?”
He paused when he heard a chuckle; that horrible sound which hunts his worst nightmares.
“You didn’t think that I wouldn’t find your new number, now did you?”
And Jimin cursed himself a hundred times for not explaining earlier. He looked around, making sure that no one was near as he hurried to the terrace.
“It wasn’t...I seriously didn’t do it on purpose. My phone it…”
“I don’t care. I need money and you still haven’t sent anything.”
Jimin felt his blood run cold at the man’s words. How could he forget…
“I am so sorry. It’s just..with the tour and everything I...forgot.”
He winced at his pathetic excuse, already knowing that it wouldn’t sit too well with the guy.
“Oh?” That horrible chuckle resonated on the other line, and Jimin had to lean on the wall to stop himself from collapsing. “Dumb omega never learns, does he? Well, I am sure we can find a way to teach you your lesson this time.” He paused when he heard muffled moans followed by a scream.
The memories that the sounds brought made Jimin’s stomach turn, and he had to suppress a sob as he realized that the monster must be fucking some defenseless omega. The moans were far too soft to belong to a man, far too high to belong to an adult…
Jimin squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to breathe.
You’re fine now, you’re with your pack now.
“Yah! Are you even listening, you dumb bitch?” Jimin’s body jerked and he nodded pointlessly.
“Sorry, I am listening.”
“As I was saying there’s always a solution to everything. If you forget again, I’ll make sure to remind, or rather inform your dear pack and the media about your dirty past.”
Jimin’s eyes flew open as he shook his head, already feeling the panic rising in his chest.
“No, please, no. I’ll send the money right away. Just please...we have a deal.”
“We do but it seems that you’re no longer interested in…”
“No, no.” Jimin swallowed audibly. “I am very much interested in this. Please don’t cancel our deal.”
He held his breath as he waited for the alpha’s answer, knowing too well that he was being toyed with. But he couldn’t do anything about it, there was simply nothing he could do to stop the blackmailing.
“Well, raise it by fifty.”
Jimin’s eyes widened.
“Fifty what?”
“Fifty million won, you dumb fucker.” The alpha exhaled loudly and the sound of skin slapping carried on resonating on the other line.
“But that’s too…” Jimin frowned, that’s too much. How did the other man expect him to be okay with it? “I can’t send you all that every single month. Can’t you…”
“Yah, Park Jimin! You’re not fooling anyone here. Rumor has it that…” There was a groan and another muffled moan. “You moved to some fucking hill. I am pretty sure that you can manage to donate a few millions. Our generous omega wouldn’t want to see his favorite strip club closing.”
“Okay, okay. Just shut up.”
He took a deep breath and pressed his palm to his forehead, trying to come up with anything.
“I’ll...see what I can do. But it won’t be today, probably in a week’s time or something.”
“Two days.”
“Are you…”
Jimin felt the anger boiling deep within him, threatening to overshadow his fear and climb to the surface.
“I said two days. Next time I won’t call. I am sure that Bang PD would love to have a small chat with me in the new building.”
And that was it, Jimin broke.
His phone flew through the terrace as he fell to the ground. He let out a frustrated growl and pulled on his hair, tired of these stupid mind games.
Jimin hated that asshole, but more than anything Jimin hated himself and hated the damned circumstances that once forced him to sell his own body to survive.
He caught his reflection on the shiny marble tile and found that he was too young for all of this. He was too young to have such a dark past, to have such a shameful history that he was constantly trying to hide.
Sometimes, when he gets too tired of it all, he almost wants to run to his hyungs and blurt out the truth. Write on twitter and reveal his past to the whole world, because it was such a horrible weight to bear. But then he would see a framed picture on a wall, or a printed polaroid on Taehyung’s desk and he would think to himself that he cannot risk any of it.
He pulled and pulled on his hair until he felt his skull aching but found no other way.
He would have to send the bastard the money.
▪︎▪︎▪︎
It took him a few minutes to calm down, and when he went to pick up his phone he found that it had miraculously made it out intact.
Jimin sighed and put the device in his back pocket, trying to compose himself as he walked to their suite.
However, when he made it to the door, he couldn’t find it in him to just step inside. He could see from the slight door crack that Taehyung and Haneul had woken up; their pup was now lying on Jungkook’s chest as the two adults snuggled. He could also hear the faint sound of some show the toddler had been obsessed with on Youtube.
Jimin smiled and his heart stilled when Taehyung noticed him.
“Jiminie, come inside. Alpha missed you.”
And Jiminie did go inside, and he curled up on his alpha’s lap in silence and ran his hand through his pup’s hair.
“Who was it, hyung?” Jungkook wondered as he struggled to get his phone out of the pup’s, surprisingly, tight grip.
“Ah, it was just Jihoon.” He forced his most natural smile. “He has a few problems at uni.”
Jimin kept his eyes closed and nuzzled into Taehyung’s chest, refusing to meet the maknae’s gaze.
“Really? I facetimed with him yesterday night but he didn’t mention anything.”
“Well,” Jimin tried. “He probably didn’t want to worry you or something. You know how he is.”
And at that Jungkook chuckled, and Jimin felt like shit for lying once again.
“True, that’s probably the only thing you two have in common."
And when Taehyung laughed softly, amused at how spot on the statement was, Jimin forced himself to join him as well.
He laughed through the pain and through the lies. He laughed because it’s better than crying. He laughed because he knew that Jungkook wouldn’t even be questioning what he just told him because he trusts him.
They all did. Everyone just gulps down whatever any of them comes up with, even if at times they know that it’s far from the truth.
They trusted each other, but Jimin wondered how long they’d be able to put up with it all.
Because trust, indeed, is such a fine line. |
"Y/N wake up..." Your mother's voice tried to catch your attention, but all you wanted was to say in bed.
"There's no school today..." You pulled the covers to avoid her gaze.
"There's a friend in the living room looking for you. He says he has news about your friend who lives at the museum."
You quickly jolted up and started to get ready, you can't just go downstairs if you looked like this. "I'll be there in five!"
You lost your balance a few times as you got dressed within the time limit. As you hurried downstairs you found a familiar red-haired person sitting in the living room sofa.
"Hey, what's up?" You said as you sat down next to him.
"Alix has asked us to come over to see her"
"Alix is inviting us over? Is that even allowed?" You tilted your head at Nathaniel's message from your friend.
"She's in the clear to see people again, so I'm here because I wanted us to go together..." There was a slight blush on Nathaniel's features as he asked you.
"That's sweet of you to think of me, I'll accept your offer! Let me grab my bag before we head out."
-------------------------------------------------------------
"You guys made it!" Alix jumped to hug the two of you, you couldn't help but laugh at her sudden outburst.
"I thought they were going to stop us from coming here but Y/N was able to convince them to let us go." Nathaniel spoke to his friend who looked curious at the person receiving his praise.
"I just told them I had schoolwork to give you and that Nathaniel was escorting me because I'm new." You said bashfully, it's weird being the center of attention from people you consider as good friends.
"Nathaniel is a gentleman, keep an eye on him or someone might steal him..." Alix teased causing her two friends to blush at the statement. "Chill down I'm joking, but I have something I need to show you guys!" Alix scrabbles to get her phone to show her friends the picture.
"Amazing!" You and Nathaniel say in unison, causing the two of you to shy away from Alix's grin. "If you brought food I may tell you everything that happened that the media is hiding..."
You quickly went to open your bag to show the snacks you brought to Alix with the help of Nathaniel.
"Alright, you guys might want to sit down to take in all the juicy details."
"We're ready!" Nathaniel said as he sat next to you. Alix got ready to explain everything with as much detail as she could, she'll tell the whole world if the papers want to keep silent about the truth.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
"Never thought you'll go against Ladybug's orders." Plagg spoke in between bites of camembert.
"Well I wanted to believe in Magpie, plus they did keep their word after all..." Sure it made Ladybug take the blame for his action, but he was sure that tricking an ally wouldn't be helpful in the future.
"That's true, everything seems to be in its place according to the news. You did the right thing back there."
Adrien smiled at his kwami who looked pleased as he ate away his cheese.
"Alright, I need to practice so Y/N doesn't figure out I'm slacking off." He sat down at the piano and looked over his sheets. They were filled with notes and tips on how to play certain sections.
In between his practice, his mind flew to the two new people in his life. Well more like one person, Y/N was someone he could act normally with rather than keeping his cool. Magpie didn't count, they gave vague answers.
'I wonder what they're doing right now...'
The piano's off-key brought him down to reality.
"Careful there, Y/N might give you an earful if you keep doing mistakes" Plagg teased only causing Adrien to laugh. Maybe that will be fun to experience, Y/N losing their cool is a sight worth seeing.
----------------------------------------------------------
"Welcome back Alix, we're glad to have you back again!" Ms. Bustier cheered as her student returned after being away for so long.
"Can't believe I'm going to say this but I really missed being here." Alix spoke as she went to her desk.
'I'll help you catch up after class, but for now, let's take notes on what we read last class..."
For once you had something to look forward after the lecture, other than just lunch.
------------------------------------------------------------
"Your notes are really detailed and even color-coded!" Alix looked over her tablet as she received the online notes you sent her. "Is this your secret to perfect grades?"
"It's my secret to not falling asleep in lectures, but other than that it just looks pretty if there's color in my notes." If it wasn't for taking notes you would've fallen asleep in every lecture, sadly you had no luck when it came to be unnoticed by your teachers.
"Can I come over your house when we have tests? I feel like you can help me out."
"Sure thing, just tell me beforehand so I can clean up."
"Wait you don't have a maid? Even when your house is that big?" Nathaniel asked.
"No my parents think a little bit of labor builds character, plus there's not much a maid can do other than just clean the living room. My parents don't like spending on unnecessary expenses if it can be avoided." It sounded weird but it was the truth, your parents were very frugal and that rubbed off on you, plus who wants strangers to touch your personal things?
"Can we come over today?" Alix questioned.
"Let me check..." You pulled out your phone to see if there was anything planned for today, there was a piano lesson and that's it. "I have piano tutoring with Adrien, I can ask if wants to reschedule or if it's okay that you guys are also there."
You texted Adrien to see if he would like to have class today.
"A study group? Can I join too?"
Adrien quickly replied, that was out of left field considering how good his grades were in all his classes.
"Adrien wants to know if he can also join our study group." You looked at Alix and Nathaniel for answers.
"He has good grades, maybe he can help us if we get stuck." Nathaniel responded and Alix nodded at his statement.
"Yeah you can join us but after your piano lessons I don't want you to get behind on them."
Hitting send, you put your phone down and continued eating.
Nino saw how his friend smiled at his phone and typed away.
"What's gotten you so happy?" Nino's voice caught Adrien's attention.
"I'm part of a study group!" Adrien told him happily, though it could come as mundane this was the kind of life Adrien wanted.
"Who's in it?"
"Y/N, Nathaniel, and Alix."
Nino smiled at his friend, it's nice to see Adrien happy even if its for a small thing such as being part of the study group.
"I'll crash the study group one of these days before an exam. Have fun but not too much fun without me." Nino joked and Adrien laughed.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
"Wait what's the formula for Joules?" Alix's brows furrowed as she tried to understand the physics problem.
"It's the same as calculating for Work." Nathaniel pointed out.
"What was that one again?"
Adrien played the piano as low as possible as to not distract the study group, though he also failed to notice he stopped playing to overhear the conversations.
"Adrien... I'm not hearing you play." You crossed your arms as you stood beside him. Maybe it was a bad idea to hold the study session in your room, but you also didn't want to isolate Adrien from your friends. "Alright we can stop, for now, you can go and study with them while I get the snacks."
"Let me help you with that." Adrien responded, you nodded and headed downstairs to the kitchen.
"Are you allergic to anything?"
"Feathers but that's not food."
"Hmm..." You responded as you cut up various pieces of fruit into a bowl. Maybe a little food will help Alix understand her homework, plus it's nice to munch on things as you work.
"Thank you for letting me stay, and for treating me like a normal person." Adrien scratched the back of his neck, other than Nino, you were the only other person to treat him as just another person.
"No problem, just focus when we have our lessons." Your phone buzzed, it was a message from an unknown phone.
"It's Luka, I was trying to finish a song but I need a second opinion. Would you like to help me please?"
It's been a week since you met him, but you needed to check your calendar.
"Send me the time and date and I'll see if I'm free."
You quickly typed.
"Was is Nathalie?" Adrien peaked over your shoulder nearly causing your phone to fall out of your hands.
"First of all no peaking..." You pushed flicked his nose causing the boy to flinch at the sudden pain. "Second no it wasn't Nathalie."You grabbed the plate of fruit and snacks and started walking back to your room, Adrien followed behind you to avoid another flick in his general direction.
"Where's the bathroom?" He asked.
"The visitor's bathroom is down the hall to your left, want me to show you?"
"There's no need I'll be right back."
As you walked in your room you noticed Alix face-first into the little table as Nathaniel sighted at his current predicament.
"Alix you've learned enough come take a break first." You set the plate down and gave everyone forks. That's when you heard a slight snore coming from your friend. "She fell asleep?"
Nathaniel scoots closer to avoid waking his friend as we spoke how she fell asleep as he was trying to explain the material.
"Can't blame her, your voice is soothing it's bound to make people sleep." It wasn't a lie, though he rarely spoke in class the times the two of you have spoken ofter made you yawn a bit.
"Thanks... was that a compliment?"
"It was, sorry if it came out sarcastic but I really do mean that your voice is very soothing." You looked over the work the pair did, it looked correct but there was a long stack that still needed to be completed.
"How are you liking Paris so far?" Nathaniel tried to break the silence, maybe he could get to know you better.
"I like the crowded spaces, reminds me of other places I've been. But sometimes I wish we could just go somewhere else."
"Like where?"
"Maybe Oslo, it was a nice city and they have long winters. My parents said we're going to stay here for a long time so you won't get rid of me that easily."
The two of you chatted up a storm as quietly as you could, once Adrien came in he sat in front of you and smiled.
"What did I miss?"
"Just about how Nathaniel is stuck with me until further notice." You smiled ear from ear as you spoke.
"You're planning on staying in Paris for a long time? That's great!" You staying in Paris also meant he had more time to spend with you.
"Sounds like my student is also very happy with the news. I'm not going to get easy on you, by the time we stop our lessons you'll be playing concertos"
Your confident voice seemed to reach Alix as she muttered a sound of approval causing the three of you to quietly giggle.
|
Julie, Luke, Reggie, and Alex had grown up together. They’d lived on the same street since they were toddlers. Their parents were around the same age so there was a barbeque every weekend, each house full of laughing, shouting, messy kids. The sets of parents shopped for four children instead of one, made beds for four, hosted slumber parties, birthday pirates, pool parties. It was a beautiful childhood.
When they were very young, they used to run up and down their street wreaking havoc as their neighbors smiled fondly. Some would leave lemonade and cookies outside, others would leave nerf guns, water balloons, and sprinkler systems on for the kids to play.
When Luke had gotten a guitar for his birthday, Alex had requested a drum set, Reggie a bass, and Julie had nearly wept with joy that they had all embraced the music that had been flowing through her veins from the day her mother had sat her at a piano and taught her chubby little fingers how to play. Sunset Curve had been born shortly after. They had been seven at the time.
Flynn had moved into the neighborhood when they were eight, she was adopted without much thought and her fathers welcomed into the fold by most of the parents. She didn’t play music but had a great ear, she had instead appointed herself band manager. The five of them had felt invincible when their music had started coming together and sounded less like children playing at being a band and more like an actual band with potential.
They were best friends, they were family, and Julie had come to believe that they were soulmates. By the time the kids had turned thirteen, life had started teaching them the hardest lessons.
Starting with Reggie, his parents had started arguing more often. When it would happen Reggie would sneak over to one of their houses, usually through a window even though he knew any one of their parents would welcome him in through the front door. “It’s more badass this way.” he would say and they would smile at him, give him a hug, and never bring it up again.
He would change up between the four houses, one night spent at each before circling back. It had worked for a while until Reggie had shown up at Julie’s one night right before dinner, tripping as he came through the window. She had been in the shower and so it was Rose who greeted him from the doorway of her daughters room when she heard the thump. She smiled at him.
“We have a front door, Reggie. You’re welcome to use it any time.” She laughed for a moment when he turned away from her. Thinking it was due to embarrassment at being caught. Then she noticed the purple bruise on his face, it spread across his jaw like a flower blooming in the spring. She rushed over to him, taking his face gently in her hands. His eyes were bloodshot and puffy and his nose was red.
Her heart broke. He was so small for a thirteen year old and it fueled her rage to think that someone would put their hands on him. He was the most sensitive of the five of them no matter how much he tried to hide it behind rock music and the leather jacket that was still too big for him.
“Who did this to you?” He flinched back from her, the anger in her voice startling him. She put her hands down to her side, stepping back to give him space.
“Que paso, mi amor?” Ray walked in at that moment knowing he’d find one of Julie’s ‘soulmates’ with his wife. He stopped short when Reggie curled in on himself and pushed up against the wall to get as far from them as possible.
Rose sat down on Julie’s bed, making herself smaller and less of a threat. Ray followed, sitting down on Julie’s chair by her desk. The parents were quiet for a moment, letting Reggie work up the nerve, putting together the words needed to explain. He moved to sit next to Rose on the bed, his hands in his lap twirling the silver ring on his finger. A gift from Julie for his tenth birthday, engraved with their initials.
They heard the shower cut off and Reggie’s head snapped up, hoping that Julie would come and save him from this situation. She didn’t. Instead, she walked in, took one look at his face, and sat down at the foot of her bed. She took his hand, squeezed it and laid her head on his thigh.
She had known these fights between his parents would escalate. Though they all knew some of what was happening in his home, Julie was the only one who knew exactly how bad it was. This was the first time it had gotten physical, she knew it wouldn’t be the last time. It took him a while to build up the courage to come clean but when he did, he had no idea the snowball effect it would have.
“Mom was drinking tonight. They were arguing like they always do but it was worse this time. She kept screaming about money, about my dad, about me, she kept saying how much she hated her life. When my dad tried to talk her down, she got really violent. Started throwing things and when she couldn’t aim at him right she started hitting him. He wouldn’t defend himself so I tried to get in between them, I tried to stop her but she just went in on me instead.” By the end of his confession he was sobbing into Rose’s chest and clutching Julie’s hand to the point of pain.
Ray was silent and stony faced from his place at Julie’s desk. Rose was looking at him now. They were talking without speaking, the way Julie had always envied. Then they both nodded and Ray turned to Julie.
“Text everyone. Let them know to come here. You guys can stay in your room tonight. The air mattresses are still set up from last week's slumber party, I’ll bring them in and order some pizzas.” He walked out of the room as Julie grabbed her phone, smiling at the way her father knew that the way to Reggie’s heart was always through pizza.
Julie to Soulmatez: 911! My house ASAP
Flynn: Omw!
Alex: Coming!
Luke: Gotta go out the window, mom’s in a mood. Give me 10
“They’re on their way.” As Julie said it, the doorbell rang and two sets of footsteps thundered up the stairs to her room. Alex burst in first followed by Flynn who took one look at Reggie on the bed and Julie on the floor. They had tears flowing freely down their faces. Julie shook her head subtly to let them know that now was not the time for questions.
Alex tried to school the anger on his face into something more comforting, all it did was make him look confused. Reggie and Julie gave watery smiles at this. Flynn simply climbed onto the bed behind Reggie, put her legs on either side of his hips and hugged him. Her head on his shoulder and her arms wrapped around his waist. He leant back willingly, his back to her chest. Alex took Rose’s place as she got up and took the hand Julie wasn’t holding.
“We’re going to step out for a few minutes, mija. Carlos is asleep so you don’t have to worry about him. If he wakes up you can bring him in here, just try not to keep him awake too long.” Reggie shot up, sending a worried look in Rose’s direction.
“Please don’t go over there. It’s okay… I’ll be okay.” Rose smiled at him and knelt down so that she was eye level with him.
“You will be okay. We’re going to make sure of it. Don’t worry, mijo .” She ran her hands through his hair and gave him a kiss on the temple as she left the room. Reggie collapsed back into Flynn as Alex and Julie climbed up and hugged him from either side.
It should feel suffocating. So many arms and legs over him. All of their body heat combined to make him feel like he was laying on the beach, the LA sun beaming onto him and warming him from the inside, the thought caused a shiver to run through him and they tightened their hold on him.
Luke chose that moment to climb through the window in Julie’s room. He looked at the cuddle pile, This is bad. He thought to himself as he took in the three of them curled around Reggie as if to block him from the rest of the world. He climbed up onto the bed by Julie, he threw his arm around her and let it rest on Reggie’s stomach where he clutched at the soft fabric of his t-shirt. Reggie thought that this would be all he needed in his life. They stayed that way until the doorbell rang signaling the arrival of the pizza.
Rose and Ray had walked up the street to the Peters’ house. It looked perfectly normal. Nothing about the house and the bright lights shining through the window gave any hint to what had gone on in there. It was quiet, too quiet and it made Rose’s hands shake with the anger she was barely able to keep control of.
How dare they have a quiet night, how dare they play the normal neighbors, the loving parents when their son was bruised and bloodied and crying. How dare that bitch ever raise her hands to her child. Rose’s hands shook with the force of her thoughts.
“I know you’re angry, I am too but Rose, we have to be rational about this. He’s not coming back here. We know that but we have to play this in a way that won’t involve CPS or the police. It’ll only traumatize him more.” Ray brought her hand up to his lips to try and diffuse her anger at least a little bit. It did nothing as he’d known it would. All four of their non-biological children were as good as hers and lord help the person who thought they could hurt one of them and get away with it.
She smiled at him but it was cold. “Don’t worry, mi amor. We’ll take care of this tonight. We’ll make sure he’s okay.”
She walked up the path to the front door and rang the doorbell. It took a moment but Reggie’s dad opened the door. From what they could see from the doorway, it had been a pretty violent fight. Jacob Peters had a black eye that was turning yellow around the edges of the purple bruise, his left eye had a busted blood vessel and turned the whites of his eye blood red. There was glass and porcelain shards littered around the floor and a broom resting against the banister of the stairs.
“Jacob, hello. I’m sure you know why we’re here.” Rose spoke, her tone just as icy as her smile had been moments before. Ray squeezed her hand in warning to take it slow and steady.
“Is he okay? I tried to stop her but…” He trailed off, waiting. As if Rose or Ray had any pity for the man.
“No, he’s not okay but he will be. He’s not coming back here. Not until she gets help. I don’t know if you think we’re all blind, deaf, or dumb but we’re all aware of just how bad it is. He might not talk to us but he talks to our daughter and she worries. They all do. I will not let her ruin him, I will not let her ruin any of them. The moment that boy was born, it was your job to protect him. You failed. Get her help, Jacob. You do not want to test me on this. You’ll find out quickly what I’m capable of, and trust me, that’s the last thing you want.” She turned her back and walked down the path and stopped at the sidewalk waiting for Ray.
“I wouldn’t call her bluff, Jake.” Ray looked into the house and could just make out Alice passed out on the couch. “She’d kill for those kids, and I’ll help her hide the bodies.” He clapped Jacob on the shoulder and walked away to the sound of the other man's sobs. So much for slow and steady. Ray thought to himself.
The kids had filled up on pizza and sodas. Reggie’s mood had lifted slightly with the company of his best friends. None of them pressured him to speak on what had happened but he knew that they had all figured it out. He was eternally grateful for them and how well they knew him. They’d decided to watch a movie in the living room while they waited for the Molina’s to get home.
They had moved the coffee table over, laid blankets on the floor and had been cuddled up together watching Jurassic World (Reggie’s favorite). Alex had fallen asleep twenty minutes in, his head resting on Reggie's shoulder, having seen the movie more times than he cared to count. Luke had his head in Julie’s lap, and his legs thrown over Reggie's on his way to sleep as she scratched at his scalp gently. Reggie had Flynn’s legs in his lap, above Luke’s and his head on Julie’s shoulder. Flynn had her back up against the couch, the baby monitor resting on the couch next to her head. All of them were touching in some way and this was the scene her parent’s had walked in on.
“Reggie?” Rose whispered. “Come talk to us for a minute.” She smiled at him and held out her hand to him. He untangled himself from the group and took her hand, letting her lead him into the kitchen. Ray followed behind them.
She sat him down at the table and started preparing some tea, chamomile should be perfect for this conversation. Ray sat down next to him and took his hand.
“You’re going to stay with us until further notice. We’ve spoken to your parents and they agreed.” ‘Agreed’ was an exaggeration but the kid didn’t need to know that. Rose placed a hot mug of tea in front of him. He wrapped his hands around it and put his head down, inhaling the steam.
“I don’t want to burden you. It’s okay. They’ll forget about it by morning.” Ray turned to Rose who looked back at Reggie with nothing but love in her eyes.
“Baby, look at me. You. Are. Not. Going. Back. There. We have plenty of room here. You’ll take the room next to Julie’s. We’ll go shopping tomorrow for some stuff for your new room. Maybe some new posters? A lava lamp?” She smiled as his eyes lit up.
“There we go. Now, go back and finish the movie. Then it’s off to bed with all of you.” Reggie got up and hugged Rose so hard she had trouble breathing for a moment. She hugged him back, kissed the top of his head and held on until he made the first move to let go.
He walked over to Ray then, hugging the man too. Reggie whispered ‘Thank you’ into Ray’s t-shirt, leaving tear stains behind as he hid his face and made his way back to the living room.
“He’s going to be okay, right?” Rose asked.
“We’ll make sure of it.” Ray answered.
They hadn’t all fit on Julie’s bed since they had been very small. They were all teenagers now and so, it had become a game of Tetris to figure out their positions so that they could all be comfortable but be touching at least two others at the same time.
Reggie had grabbed a notebook before laying down first. It’s how they worked. The one who needed the most comfort was always the base of the pile. Julie laid down on his right, her head on his stomach about halfway down the bed. Alex went in the same position but on the left. His head resting slightly higher than Julie’s.
Luke climbed up to Reggie's right in the space at the top half of the bed, his arm thrown over Reggie’s chest resting on Alex’s head, his leg tossed over Julie’s ribs and her arm rested on his thigh. Flynn took Luke’s position on the left, her head on Reggie’s chest and her leg tossed over Alex’s ribs, tucked under his arm.
They were silent. They didn’t need words to speak the volumes of love between them but Luke spoke anyway.
“I love you guys.” Luke mumbled as sleep took over him. Alex smiled and said it back. The ‘I love you’s’ traveled around the dark room, bidding them all sweet dreams as they drifted off. Reggie and Julie were the only ones to stay awake. It had been a hard night and he was sure the coming days would be even harder.
As he laid there staring at the blank page of his notebook, the book light he had borrowed from Julie shining onto the lines of the page lyrics started forming in his head. A melody followed shortly after. The scribbles of his pen on the paper lulled Julie and she fell asleep before she could ask what he was writing.
He wrote for two hours. The lyrics worked their way out first and then the instruments notated for each line. Starting with Julie on the piano, He would come in next with the bass, Luke would follow on the electric, and Alex would bring the beat in on the drums. He wrote the feelings that each instrument should usher in, in the margins.
By three in the morning the song was completed and he felt mentally and emotionally drained. He placed the book, open to the song, on the nightstand and quickly fell asleep, surrounded by the most important people in his life.
He had left early in the morning with Julie’s parents. They panicked for a second before seeing a new text from him when he’d left.
Reggie to Soulmatez: With the Molina’s. Be back in a few hours. They’re taking me to the doctor to make sure I’m okay and then we’re going shopping. Carlos with us.
Julie: We love you. <3
Flynn: You’re the best!
Luke: You complete me <3
Alex: We’ll be waiting here for you.
Julie stretched and went for her glasses on the nightstand where she found the open notebook. A completed song laying there waiting for them.
“Guys! Look! This is what Reggie was writing last night.” She continued to read it over as Luke and Alex looked over her shoulders. Flynn was in front of her trying to read it upside and having very little luck.
“Wow. This is...heavy.” Luke said as Julie passed the book over to Flynn.
“At least he got it out somehow. I was starting to think he wouldn’t talk about it at all. I’m glad, he must feel a thousand pounds lighter.” Alex said.
“Okay, lightbulbs going off here, guys. Obviously Reggie will take lead on this song but since we have a few hours, I think we should get the song ready for him. He pretty much composed and wrote everything we needed. Luke, you take the lead vocals and I know you can make out his chords for the guitar. Alex, can you read his instructions for the drums?” He nodded in answer.
“Perfect. Julie, I know you just started learning the bass but you think you can do the piano and bass while you practice? They’re separate parts of the song so it’s not like you need to play it at the same time.” Julie beamed at her and smiled.
“Flynn! You’re a genius! Lets go.” They made their way to the studio where all of their instruments were kept since the Molina’s were the only ones who loved having the kids practice there.
Julie moved a song her mother had been working on to the side and laid the book open on the piano so that they could all see it. Flynn sat on the couch with her phone out set to record. They found that recording their music made the mistakes more obvious and easier to correct.
They practiced the song for two hours, correcting things that didn’t fit and adding riff’s, drums, and piano where it sounded cohesive. By the time Reggie had returned with Ray, Rose, and Carlos, the song was as perfect as they could make it without Reggie’s voice.
They had followed the sound of the excited voices bleeding out of the studio and Reggie's eyes filled with tears as he spotted his notebook pen on the piano.
“We did something.” Luke said as he lowered his head to the ground, all of the sudden bashful. Alex rolled his eyes.
“We put your song together. It’s ready. We just need you on lead vocals.” Alex explained.
“It’s beautiful, Reg.” Flynn said as she walked over and placed herself under his arm, wrapping her arm around his waist and squeezing him close. He smiled at them all. Julie returned the smile, scrunching her nose the way she only did when she smiled at one of them.
Rose, knowing that songs were extremely personal things, especially those written from wells of pain, turned to leave with Ray when Reggie reached out to grab their hands.
“Stay. Please. I want you guys to hear it.” Rose smiled and reached up to cup his face.
“Are you sure, mijo? ” Reggie blushed but nodded at Ray’s question. The parents moved to sit on the couch. Carlos sitting on Ray’s lap and clapping happily. He always loved to watch the band practice. Music ran deep in this family. Flynn sat next to them, set her phone to record and grabbed Carlos from Ray’s lap and sat him down on hers.
Julie started on the piano. Soft, sad notes ringing out through the space. Reggie started singing, his voice dripping with the pain he’d been in while writing.
Your subtleties
They strangle me
I can't explain myself at all.
And all the wants
And all the needs
All I don't want to need at all.
He started tearing as he brought in the opening verse. This song had bled him dry as he poured it all out into the mic. His voice rapeseed as he strained to keep his emotions in check.
The walls start breathing
My mind's unweaving
Maybe it's best you leave me alone.
A weight is lifted
On this evening
I give the final blow.
The power was in his hands now. The Molina’s had seen to that. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve these people in his life but he was grateful for them either way.
When darkness turns to light,
It ends tonight
It ends tonight.
A falling star
Least I fall alone.
I can't explain what you can't explain.
You're finding things that you didn't know
I look at you with such disdain
Reggie’s hands shook as he hit the chords on his bass. He looked over to Julie who was singing back up to him and she had tears in her eyes. She smiled at him, reassuring and comforting all at the same time as only Julie Molina could be. They repeated the bridge and the chorus, Luke and Alex’s voices holding him up like they had done last night.
Now I'm on my own side
It's better than being on your side
It's my fault when you're blind
It's better that I see it through your eyes
All these thoughts locked inside
Now you're the first to know
When darkness turns to light
It ends tonight,
It ends tonight.
Just a little insight won't make this right
It's too late to fight
It ends tonight,
It ends
Alex beat the drums with more passion than they’d ever heard, Luke made his guitar sing like it had a voice of it’s own. Julie brought the melody in, bringing the song to a gentle end. This song was for them. His family, his friends, his soul mates who were looking at him with pride, love, and every way his parents hadn’t in more years than he could remember.
The song ended to a round of applause from Rose, Ray, and Flynn. Carlos tried but it looked more like fist pumping and Reggie laughed at the sight.
“Thank you, guys. For everything.” Reggie felt like he could breathe again, like a weight had been lifted off of his chest. Alex came out from behind his drums, Julie followed from behind the piano, Luke put his guitar down, and Flynn walked over from the couch after passing Carlos back to his mom. They hugged for a while, lending comfort and peace where they could.
Ray wiped a tear from his eye, took Rose’s hand, Carlos on his hip and led them out of the studio. Leaving the kids to themselves as they went to prepare lunch. The kids would be alright, they’d make sure of it. |
Soft, diffused light scattered lazily through the springtime morning leaves located along a small alcove to the southern edge of the forest, leaving a snapped pearl necklace impression of radiant sunlight rolling across the grass with dewy absentmindness. A lie more serene had never been spun by even the most accomplished weavers or sold by the most shameless charlatan, which was well enough, because when matters seemed too good to be true, they usually were.
That was Kim Dokja’s experience in life, anyway. It was not a fiction that rewrites circumstance by fate’s equitable and immovable hand, but a struggle of choices, of scratching nails and scraping knees, of teeth-gnashing reality ambivalently shoving each living creature along without mercy or consideration.
Some were born with glittering titles and silver-lacquered spoons while many more were entitled to much less, but the trajectory of time did not discern between the pleas of anyone. Maybe that was the only fairness that has ever existed in this world. The sun rises and it sets. Stars were born and stardust remains. All creatures are born and all creatures will die. The only true fools to exist in the world are the ones who cry out in the face of cruel generalities like fate and destiny when they are the agents of their own story.
These, amongst other trivialities, were Kim Dokja’s musings while walking through the semi-shade when he happened upon a most unusual irregularity.
Indeed, he almost expected it. Such peaceful days were always too good to be born in reality.
At his feet lay a body, chest pressed into the ground and features obscured by dark, messy hair, making their face almost indistinguishable. Some few details peaked through. A pale complexion, complemented by a high-collared, dark, and delicately embroidered jacket that was almost elegantly painted with blood.
Kim Dokja bent down, planting a knee in the grass beside the person’s head and inspected them for wounds. After a brief examination, he determined that the person was a man, and that their life was not in immediate danger judging by their low but steady breathing. Sleeping, then. Wounded but not in mortal danger. Most of the blood had dried into the back of the coat, but there were no visible signs of torn fabric or sheared flesh.
Not wanting to exacerbate any potential injuries, Kim Dokja very slowly maneuvered the man onto his back to check for further injuries, and he discovered the cause of their collapse. A terrible curve like a reaper’s smile traced the length of his throat from just below his Adam’s apple to around halfway to his nape. The incision didn’t appear to be deep, but the throat was such a fragile thing. It could snap, bleed, twist and burst with just the wrong amount of pressure–this person should consider himself lucky not to have bled out laying here in the grass.
Given his condition and the direction from which he’d come, Kim Dokja could only assume the man was in search of healing. Which, he supposed, he should provide, seeing as it was his righteous duty and all… but there was something uncomfortable about the situation which made his skin prickle. It was the face. Annoyingly handsome, yes, but more than that, it seemed oddly familiar. He was certain he’d never seen someone like this before. If he were being completely honest, they were the exact sort of winner of a genetic lottery that made one think, can this person even be real? Maybe it was simply the sensation of disbelief that sourced this eerie feeling.
With only mild reservations, Kim Dokja sighed and heaved the man’s weight onto his shoulder. The wound began to bleed more freely again after being disturbed, a thick stream of fresh red mixing with dried maroon, but it wasn’t like Kim Dokja could have done anything about it. It’s not like he was going to get any better lying out here in the grass. Still, he allowed himself some private grousing that his snowy robes were about to be bloodied by someone so recklessly irresponsible that they passed out before receiving proper medical attention.
A short trek up the grounds made the day seem warmer. Or maybe it was the added exertion of lugging around a small giant; how was he wearing all black in this heat? Beads of sweat gathered on Kim Dokja’s forehead by the time he reached the front of the temple.
“Lee Gilyoung!” he called as he reached the front door, and the soft padding of socks over wood rushed to greet him.
“Oh, is that Hyung–?” Lee Gilyoung came bounding into view, his eyes going from bright to troubled like clouds passing over the sun. He gave the unconscious man one confused look before rushing up to try to help Kim Dokja. “What happened?!”
“I’m not sure, I just found him.” Kim Dokja shrugged off Lee Gilyoung’s hovering hands. He had already gotten the man this far. “It isn’t so terrible. Instead, prepare some bandages and bring the medicine.”
The boy gave a firm nod before running back into the temple while Kim Dokja moved the man to the sitting area, placing him down on the mats while being extremely mindful of his throat. There was a pale, sickly sheen across the man’s face that was more pronounced in the natural light, and the blood was pooling around the back of his jacket collar. It had already started to seep through onto the floor.
Thankfully, Lee Gilyoung flew into the room at the same moment, bundles of bandages and medicine in his arms. He also brought another pair of gloves, for which Kim Dokja was thankful. He peeled off the bloodied gloves he’d been wearing that morning and cleaned his hands in a basin of water, replaced with the new pair, and began tending the wound. He measured the man’s expression for any changes, any signs of discomfort or waking, but there was no response. Given the pain such an injury might cause, maybe that was better.
The procedure wasn’t difficult. In fact, Kim Dokja was rather methodical when it came to treating wounds and illness, which made the process swift and relatively easy. With some precise applications of the man’s pressure points and a bit of poultice, the bleeding stopped, and after less than an hour he’d freshly wrapped the column of pale throat with stark white bandages. A sedative medication had been carefully tipped down his throat after being dissolved in water. Copper fused with an herbal, slightly stringent scent from the emollient suffused through the silence by the Kim Dokja finished.
“Hyung, what do you think happened to him?” Lee Gilyoung had watched silently for most of the procedure, only chiming in when he sensed Kim Dokja had needed something, like more wound dressings or water. He deserved a proper answer for all his patience and help.
“It’s hard to say. The wound doesn’t look like it was caused by an animal, so he may have been attacked by someone. He doesn’t have much on him besides that coat and sword, so he may have been targeted by brigands and had his belongings stolen.”
“Hm. Where did you find him… ?”
Kim Dokja smiled lightly. “Why, so you can go and investigate? If there are bandits in the woods nearby, you could end up just like that guy.”
“I’m not so dumb that I’d get ambushed like that!”
“So you were planning to go and look?” Kim Dokja laughed while putting away the treatment materials. “Don’t do anything unnecessary, Lee Gilyoung. Please go report the incident to the watchmen, and I will clean up here.”
Despite some reluctance, the boy returned to the front door and slipped on his shoes. “Okay, I will go first then.”
Seeing him out, Kim Dokja leaned his weight against the door frame and watched Lee Gilyoung until he reached the main road. The likelihood that this particular patient had actually been attacked in the surrounding woods was quite low, given the state of the grass and the amount of blood when Kim Dokja had found him. If he had to wager a guess, the man had probably gotten injured on one of the adjacent roads through the mountains and escaped his assailants, only to collapse during his getaway. Whatever the case, Kim Dokja would rather not encourage Lee Gilyoung’s occasional reckless behavior and was glad for the excuse to send him off. Best to just let the guards handle these things.
After briefly studying the landscape of own thoughts, Kim Dokja turned back around. He hesitated next to the unconscious body in the center of his sitting room, gaze sweeping over the face that had troubled him earlier. The medicine should be kicking in soon, so he would likely be passed out until tomorrow.
Sometime during treatment, Kim Dokja had removed the man’s dusty outer jacket, and looking closer now, he noted some details he’d overlooked before. His shoulders were broad and his forearms were covered in scratches and bruises, making it more apparent than ever he’d spent a night outdoors. His physique was well above average, rousing some juvenile envy in Kim Dokja’s own heart. He really didn’t care for such things, but the obvious difference in their builds made it hard to overlook the breadth of difference between them.
Kim Dokja was slender and bony, and was surely amongst the least physically impressive people in the kingdom; it was hard to believe he managed to carry someone so unreasonably huge uphill on his own. God, what kind of monster was he anyway to have such a stupidly solid chest?
Unconsciously, he extended his fingers, the dark tips of his gloves brushing just-barely against the hair stuck to the man’s sweaty temple. Maybe he would bring a washcloth and try to wipe away the grime from the man’s face. Even if the guy was an inconvenience, it felt cruel to leave someone so helpless in such a state…
His hand flinched back, suddenly embarrassed by his own actions. There was no one here and he wasn’t doing anything wrong, but felt like he’d just been caught stealing food from a merchant on a busy market street or some such.
Anyway, seeing as this stranger had a superior constitution, Kim Dokja imagined the guy would have a swift recovery. At least, he hoped so. The sooner the disruption of his daily affairs ended, the sooner Kim Dokja could get back to reading.
With that, he rose to his feet once again and returned to the task of cleaning up. He inspected himself. Yes, he would need to clean himself up too. The crimson dye on his robes was not a great look for him–he might end up mistaken for a vengeful ghost or something.
He gathered the soiled rags and the man’s coat under one arm and began to undo the clasps of his alb robe with the other, strolling out the back of the temple towards the outdoor pond. He dropped the bloodied laundry on the ground and loosened the chords that cinched his waist. The previous owners of the temple had left him a very simple but refined wardrobe, almost entirely made of snow-colored vestments: a small variety of white cassocks with gold trimmings and embroidery, white cinctures, a few stoles with holy imagery that he always left in far back corner of the wardrobe, and some ceremonial attire like the two humeral veils and a hopelessly intricate cope. There was enough provided that Kim Dokja only had to worry about laundering about once a week, but he frequently cursed the name of whoever had foolishly decided that priests should wear white to symbolize purity or some such while also being responsible for the treatment of the sick and wounded. If he was caring for someone that was bleeding, it was basically a requirement that he had to wash his clothes immediately or they would be ruined. Such a nuisance…
A rustle of the overhead branches disrupted the quiet scene, Kim Dokja’s hands hovering over the collar of his inner robes. He stopped to look at the way the wind danced between the branches, strangely calmed by the sound, when another much louder prattling of wood caught his attention.
He scarcely managed to turn around before all the air in his windpipe was suddenly cut off.
“Ah–wha–” His hand shot to his throat instinctively, trying to claw at the grip that was now choking him by the collar. It was in vain, of course, as his feet were lifted off the ground and his weight supported by a single hand. Eyes of inhuman cruelty poured into him. Dark, like storm clouds, but illuminate and unflinching.
“Name.”
Eloquently, Kim Dokja managed to wheeze, “What?”
“What is your name?”
Such a shameless question, given the circumstances. How could this guy be standing right now? After losing all that blood, plus he had more than a small amount of medication in his system that should have rendered him unconscious. Not to mention, did this guy have no sense of his surroundings? They were in a temple for gods sake. What kind of threat could he possibly face here?
Resigned, he said, “Kim Dokja.”
There was a pause.
“...A strange name.”
“I’ve heard that a lot.”
“What is this place?” the other demanded.
Ah, perhaps the man was an idiot? Had he suffered from head trauma Kim Dokja hadn’t noticed?
Rather than answer directly, he couldn’t help but want to give this bastard a hard time. “What do you think?”
They were surrounded by delicately manicured bushes and well-swept walking paths. Elegant stone decorations and time-marbled rocky structures dotted the garden. The interior was modeled after vihara of old, and the building itself was a modest but well-kept tiered pagoda. It couldn’t have been more painfully obvious that these were temple grounds if Kim Dokja’s head was shaved and he was decked out in prayer beads.
“...”
For the record, Kim Dokja did consider kicking him. His legs could reach the man’s chest after all, but accounting for his robes, it would be hard to raise his foot enough to deliver a meaningful strike. Too bad.
“Where is the Omniscient Oracle?”
Ugh, that moniker. It was such a terrible misnomer that it made him cringe to hear someone use it.
“That would be me.” Kim Dokja made no attempt to conceal his disdain. “As in, the person who dragged you here and treated your wounds.”
The mental calculations going on in the other man’s head were visible on his face. Kim Dokja’s deadpan was unmoved by the guy’s increasingly critical scowl, even as it evolved with new emotions and revelations. Doubt, suspicion, anger, distrust… In that time, a strange tension sparked between them, crackling lightning waiting to strike before a storm. Kim Dokja did not go out of his way to make enemies for himself, but the world was gravely mistaken if they believed he was a pushover simply because he was a priest. No one would make him kowtow to their demands in his own home, difference in physical strength be damned.
He’d had enough of going by this person’s pace. He dug his nails into the man’s grip and spat, “Now if you’re done, release your hand and get lost, you damn jerk.”
The man actually looked astonishingly pleased. A smirk sharpened his lips into something that was not quite a smile, but closer to a leer.
“I heard that such a prophet existed, one with an imprudent tongue. It seems you are him after all.”
Not a second later, the grip supporting all of Kim Dokja’s weight vanished just as quickly as it came and he plummeted into the water below.
“Hyung, what happened?! Did you take a bath? I wasn’t gone for long…”
Lee Gilyoung gestured to the damp strands of Kim Dokja’s hair, and the robes he’d worn previously now strung up as if freshly laundered.
“I had blood on me, so I needed to wash up.” Well, it wasn’t a complete lie.
He’d given it some thought, but ultimately decided to keep the hostile exchange from earlier to himself.
After Kim Dokja’s rather dramatic dip in the pond, the same bastard who had dropped him wobbled and fell forward into the dirt. It wasn’t unexpected; he’d lost a fair amount of blood, had been exposed to the elements overnight, and had medication in his system intended to knock him out. The fact that he’d been on his feet at all was a miracle, and Kim Dokja had a wary suspicion he’d only managed the confrontation out of spite alone.
He passed out before the young priest could finish pulling himself out of the water, and that signaled the second time a very annoyed Kim Dokja had to drag such a bastard into his temple.
That had all come to pass almost an hour ago, and he went to meet Lee Gilyoung and two others at the front of the temple at the sound of approaching voices. Of his new company, the faces included one familiar and one unfamiliar. Of course, Kim Dokja immediately recognized Yoo Sangah, one of the few people he knew somewhat well in town; she managed the library, so it was to be expected he would see her a lot. She was friendly and companionable to an almost unbelievable degree, and coincidentally, the functional opposite of him. Even Yoo Sangah’s appearance was welcoming, hair and eyes colored in soft, refreshing tones of brown, and a face that was warm, smooth and sophisticated.
Stranger was that, while her presence was not unwanted, Kim Dokja had no idea why she came. He’d been expecting the guard, and yet, this was the one who was unfamiliar.
A man with a sturdy build and dependable face. Short hair and well-defined features. Because of Kim Dokja’s strange relationship with the town, he felt he actually knew all of the guards, more or less. Enough to remember their faces, if not their name, but this was someone he’d never seen before.
“Dokja-ssi!” Yoo Sangah greeted Kim Dokja first, waving after Lee Gilyoung ran to meet him at the front of the temple. “You look well. I’m sorry to come unexpectedly.”
Reflexively, Kim Dokja smiled. It was hard to dislike Yoo Sangah. “There’s no need for apologies. It’s nice to see you as well, Sangah-ssi. Did Gilyoung-ie give you any trouble?”
“Hey!” the boy pouted, though he remained glued to Kim Dokja’s leg anyway.
Yoo Sangah laughed, and the man beside her politely smiled. “Of course not. I ran into Lee Gilyoung at the city gate when he was looking for the guards and introduced him to Lee Hyunsung-ssi. Oh, excuse me, Dokja-ssi, this is the town’s newly appointed guardsman, Lee Hyunsung-ssi.”
“U-Um, it’s nice to meet you, Dokja-nim.” The man gave a stiff bow, but his expression was earnest. “I’ve heard that you do quite a bit for the town despite not actually belonging to it. I will be in your care from now on!”
Before he could utter a reply, however, unbidden words flew to the front of Kim Dokja’s consciousness and rendered him dizzy.
[Lee Hyunsung. 28 years old. A man of upright moral character, formidable strength, and simple desires. He is a reliable companion. It is only a shame his mental strength does not match that of his physical prowess.]
They weren’t his own thoughts, but an interpretation of Lee Hyunsung’s character. A perfunctory reflex from a dormant subconscious within him.
Nervous in front of new people. Respects authority. Kind to women and children. Forgiving, to a fault. Unswervingly loyal.
In just a few words, Lee Hyunsung had introduced himself to Kim Dokja, but it was such a wholehearted greeting that all the characteristics of his ego jumped forward. As if waving arms above his head and jumping up and down, the words of Lee Hyunsung begged to be read.
“Dokja-hyung?”
Lee Gilyoung’s worried voice brought him back with a surge of reality, so fast Kim Dokja felt a little uneven on his feet. Yoo Sangah and Lee Hyunsung were both looking at him with concern.
“Are you alright?” asked Yoo Sangah. “Do you feel unwell?”
“I… no, I mean… sorry. I just remembered something unexpected.” Forced to overcome his own social gracelessness, Kim Dokja waved them all inside. “Please come in.”
Yoo Sangah did not appear convinced, but she dropped it with a purse of her lips. Lee Hyunsung shuffled in behind her, and Lee Gilyoung and Kim Dokja entered last. They paused just beyond the threshold, facing three separate corridors.
“When Gilyoung-ah came and explained the situation, I thought Dokja-ssi might need a hand.”
“Yes,” he nodded, adjusting the hood of his robes. “If you could stay with Lee Gilyoung while I take Hyunsung-ssi to the scene, I would be grateful.”
Yoo Sangah smiled and said nothing further, escorting a pouting Lee Gilyoung into the temple to the north, towards the sitting area. Kim Dokja walked through a different corridor, one that led towards the back of the grounds, his instructions for Lee Hyunsung to follow remaining unsaid. As expected, a confident march chased after his own footsteps anyway.
Once they were out of earshot of the temple and headed down the sloping hillside, the guard began speaking in a kind and unassuming tone.
“How long has Dokja-nim been living in this place?”
It was like talking to the perfect soldier. He supposed that made sense.
“You don’t have to be so formal,” Kim Dokja assured. “I’m not so scary, am I?”
“O-Oh, no! Not at all. Just, it feels–impolite? You have a reputation as being a famous healer, after all… But Sangah-ssi did refer to you as Dokja-ssi. Would that be better?”
“That would be, yes. And to answer your question, I’ve lived here for just about five years.”
“Wow! The people of Chungmuro must be highly favored to have such a person just a stone’s throw away.”
He could see why Yoo Sangah might get along with him; though their personalities were clearly different, they had the same kind of friendly aura that drew people in. Something that urged others to trust and rely on them; something that Kim Dokja knew he lacked. That was fine, better even–it wasn’t that he was unapproachable, but neither was he overly approachable. People just didn’t pay him much mind.
Lee Hyunsung posed a few more polite questions as to the nature of the temple as they walked, something companionable to fill the silence. There was some impassioned monologuing on Lee Hyunsung’s part, recounting his time spent in military training and how he was exposed to many different faiths while living amongst his countrymen. A description which reflected on how beautiful it was that they came together until one flag and banner despite their differences, how loyalty and comradeship united mankind beneath their King.
Being subjected to someone’s sincerity like this made Kim Dokja a little uncomfortable, if he were honest. They probably misperceived some things.
“I don’t want to mislead Hyunsung-ssi, so I’ll just be straight about it. I’m not really concerned with religion.” There was a pause, the guard’s confusion clearly written all over his face. They were almost to the spot where Kim Dokja had found the victim earlier.
“But, who has heard of a priest that isn’t religious…?”
“I just live like this because it is convenient.”
As if mystified, Lee Hyunsung’s mouth opened and closed a few times, but his questions never came.
“We’re here.”
In the end, there wasn’t much to show for it. Blood caked into the grass, the impression of a heavy body that had spent the night plastered to the dirt. There wasn’t a specific direction from which the blood seemed to come, so it was difficult to guess where or when he’d been attacked. Lee Hyunsung said as much, confirming Kim Dokja’s assumptions. Still, the man wanted to be thorough, so he did an inspection of the perimeter and took notes on a few things. Standard procedures, performed diligently by an exemplary guard. It was almost strange to witness how seriously Lee Hyunsung took the whole thing, but maybe he was just suffering from a rosy worldview as a newly appointed watchman–his desire to work so meticulously might fall off after he’d spent enough time doing the same thing a thousand times.
No, actually, probably not. Kim Dokja recalled his character traits. This was probably just how Lee Hyunsung was about everything.
They returned to the temple after another ten minutes spent scouring the forest floor with nothing to show for it, not that Kim Dokja had expected much else.
“Has anything like this happened before?” Lee Hyunsung wondered while they proceeded back up the hillside.
“It isn’t so uncommon,” murmured Kim Dokja, recalling similar incidents in the past. “I don’t discriminate when treating the sick or wounded, so sometimes strange individuals will wander around in search of the temple.”
Dazedly, Lee Hyunsung looked at Kim Dokja with something akin to admiration. Maybe his actions did appear as such to an outside point of view.
“But it’s been awhile since an encounter like this. Seldom do people come completely alone, as you can imagine. Seeking medical help while by yourself can land you quickly into trouble.”
“I see. By the way, Dokja-ssi, Sangah-ssi mentioned that you liked to read?”
“Ah… yes. How about Hyunsung-ssi?”
“Not really.” The guard grinned, sheepish. “I was just learning more about Sangah-ssi this morning, she was telling me about the library and mentioned that Dokja-ssi likes to spend free time there.”
“Well, that is definitely true.” With a wry smile, Kim Dokja remembered many a day spent huddled between beautiful shelves of bound leather, rich with stories and reminiscent dust. It was a nostalgic feeling, and he associated it with the start of his awkward but genuine companionship with Yoo Sangah. “Sangah-ssi told me her fear that she would never be able to catch up with my understanding of that library, but she has already far surpassed me in terms of that place.”
“Really? Sangah-ssi seems so confident!”
For a brief moment, Kim Dokja wondered if he’d said too much and might embarrass Yoo Sangah by revealing such information. He couldn’t take it back now that it’d been said, anyway.
“Well, it was many years ago now. She’s an excellent librarian.”
“If I can ask, Dokja-ssi, why did you choose to live, er, at a temple, if you like books so much? You could have become a librarian like Sangah-ssi, right?”
A librarian like Yoo Sangah, was it?
“No, I could never do that. I do like to read, but I could never apply that to managing and maintaining a space dedicated to books. I’m just way too disorganized.”
At that, Lee Hyunsung laughed. It felt oddly flattering to have made someone else laugh just by speaking his mind. He wasn’t a particularly funny person.
They reentered the temple to find the aforementioned librarian and Lee Gilyoung making tea in the temple scullery. Despite it being his own home, Yoo Sangah chased Kim Dokja from the kitchen the moment he stepped inside and insisted he go sit with Lee Hyunsung and Lee Gilyoung.
“It is as much for my safety as it is for your’s, Dokja-ssi. Everyone knows you can’t cook…”
After recovering his trampled pride, Kim Dokja did as he was told and acted as host for a while longer before Yoo Sangah joined them in the sitting room with tea. The atmosphere was slightly tense, all their eyes occasionally listing towards the unconscious body on the floor nearby.
“Is this really okay?” Yoo Sangah whispered into her cup, a frown twisting her mouth.
“Yes, it’s fine.” Kim Dokja didn’t bother to lower his voice. “He’s got enough medicine in his system for the rest of the day, at least. This won’t wake him.”
“So what’s going on with the guy, Dokja-hyung? Did you and Guard-ahjussi uncover any clues in the woods? Are we going to arrest some bandits?”
“Maybe.” Kim Dokja placed a hand on top of Lee Gilyoung’s head, in part to praise him for his enthusiasm and to equally appease him so he might be silent for a while. “For now, there’s still too many unknowns to make any good guesses. We’ll probably have to wait for that guy to wake up to hear his story. For now, I need to ask Hyunsung-ssi…”
He glanced at the watchman, who seemed to shrink back when addressed suddenly . “Did you come directly from your military service to work as a guard? I imagine you can’t have been stationed here for more than, what, five days?”
The man’s eyes looked like they might bug out of his head. “Y-Yes, that’s right! How did you know?”
“Pfft, that’s nothing.” Lee Gilyoung rolled his eyes. “Didn’t you know Hyung is a prophet! He knows everything.”
At the kid’s declaration, Lee Hyunsung’s eyes fell to the priest seated before him with a bemused expression, as if expecting Kim Dokja to refute the child’s overly prideful claim, but all he received was a noncommittal shrug.
“Don’t tell me…?”
“There is something similar,” was the best answer Kim Dokja could give, at least right now. It was troublesome to correct others when the evidence suggested otherwise. “But that’s not important right now. Hyunsung-ssi, I imagine you were dispatched with several trainees. Have you already received your orders for the next month? Do you know what your duties will be, day-by-day?”
Brows pinched, Lee Hyunsung seemed to think hard about the question before responding.
“Uh… more or less? We are given rough assignments for what we will be doing each week about a month early, but because as a new recruit, we are rotating with senior guards in different areas to get used to the town. I don’t know fully what I’ll be doing everyday, but I have a sense of where I should be. It’s not a big town, so there’s not too terribly much to learn, but… does this still have to do with that guy?”
It was too soon for Kim Dokja to know the answer to that. Instead, he went ahead with his working theory:
“I wonder if someone knew the guards would be busy with a new trainee and took this opportunity to try to stage an attack on the village. It just seems like a rather nice coincidence that a new guard would be stationed the same day an outsider is found on the outskirts of the town.”
“That is suspicious…” Yoo Sangah nodded, bringing a hand to her chin. “Would they be trying to obtain something in particular? Our village has some historical relics that are valuable, but otherwise there’s not much here.”
Sharp as always, that Yoo Sangah. It was occasions such as these that he especially admired her.
“It’s hard to say for certain. That guy might have even been with the bandits, but there could have been a disagreement and they turned on each other, so this happened. There’s too many variables right now.”
“All the more reason to do something, then!” Lee Hyunsung caught up with the course of events and steeled his resolve. He probably realized that between a soldier, librarian, priest, and a child, the role of responsibility would naturally fall to him. “I can let the other guards know and we can send out a patrol team, and there might need to be a person stationed at the temple, since Dokja-ssi is outside the city wall–”
“That won’t be necessary,” Kim Dokja waved his hand. “I’m not a part of the town, so please don’t worry about me. This temple isn’t something that will be targeted. Focus your efforts on securing the city.”
“B-But why?” Lee Hyunsung looked to Yoo Sangah with bewilderment, as if she could interpret Kim Dokja’s emphatic refusal, but the woman merely chuckled.
“If he says it’s okay, then I would encourage Hyunsung-ssi to trust Dokja-ssi. It is always like this.”
Though clearly troubled, the guard reluctantly nodded and turned his gaze forward again. “Well, okay, I understand. But what should be done about…?”
They all silently looked in the direction of the unconscious man on the other side of the room, and Kim Dokja wished he could say he knew for certain.
“Let’s leave him in my care for now. If his goal was to infiltrate Chungmuro, then you would only be helping him by bringing him in. Since this temple is not a part of the town, there’s nothing he can gain from this place. Besides, I would be a worthless hostage.”
The last part came out more self-deprecating than intended, which, naturally, had Lee Gilyoung springing up in his defense.
“Hey! No one talks about my Hyung that way, not even Hyung!”
“I didn’t mean anything like that. Just that we shouldn’t invite danger into the city, and that I can look after myself.”
Yoo Sangah leaned forward, her face looking almost as if resigned to the answer already, but went ahead asking, “Dokja-ssi, are you sure? If you’re hurt, there’ll be no way of anyone knowing. Maybe it’d be best to take up Hyunsung-ssi’s offer.”
“That’s okay, Sangah-ssi. It’ll be fine.”
Okay, there was no way he actually knew that, but Kim Dokja was pretty confident that he would figure things out. He wasn’t actually a prophet, he just didn’t always correct people when they called him one. It sort of just depended on his mood at the time.
In reality, he was just a person who had read a lot of things, that’s all. |
“Are you sure you can handle this?”
“Just throw the ball, Stilinski. I only have another hour with you before McCall shows up.”
Jackson grimaced when he realized what he’d said, but he didn’t try to take any of it back, just gestured again with his crosse for Stiles to toss the lacrosse ball.
Biting back the dog joke that was just begging to be let out, Stiles swung his crosse and chucked the ball toward the net behind Jackson. It was a good shot, but Jackson’s reflexes were insane, and his crosse was up before Stiles could even register the ball getting near him.
Once he’d caught it, Jackson immediately relaxed his stance. “Not hard enough. You need more force, or you give them too much time to block.”
Stiles scowled. “Fine, but you were too fast. If I can’t see the damn stick move, you’re still using too much wolf power.”
Jackson frowned but nodded and tossed the ball back only slightly too hard to try again.
In possibly the biggest plot twist Stiles had experienced in the last two weeks—which was the best Stiles could make a fair comparison to, considering the absolute batshittery of the last few months—Jackson was the one to suggest training for lacrosse next year with Stiles.
It was a two-for-one deal. Jackson would help Stiles keep the probationary spot on first line that Finstock had given back to him, and Stiles would teach Jackson to play like a human instead of a wolf. The only wrench in the gears was that Stiles was supposed to be practicing with Scott too, and Jackson refused to work with him. According to him, he was only willing to work with Stiles because Derek told him he wouldn’t be allowed to play unless he could control himself.
The fact that Jackson was willing to obey Derek’s ordinance still made Stiles’ head hurt.
Their compromise was for Stiles to work with Jackson for the first half of his training, and with Scott for the second half. So far, it’d been working well, but in order to make it worth it for both Jackson and Scott, Stiles was spending way more time in his pads than he’d intended for the summer. There was practice, and then there was this.
“You always aim for the same spot, stop being so predictable.”
“Quit flinching when the ball is coming at you. That’s what your fucking helmet is for.”
“Stilinski, if you don’t start putting some fucking effort into these throws, I’ll bite you.”
By the end of his Jackson training, Stiles was ready to drop. He’d started daydreaming three rounds ago about the scene in sports movies where someone dumps a cooler of ice cold gatorade on the players.
As he flopped down onto the grass and slid his helmet off, Stiles gasped, “Pretty sure Derek would kill you. Weakling human, remember?”
“Derek can bite me.”
Stiles giggled. “Dude, he already did.”
Normally, Jackson bailed as soon as the time was up to avoid seeing Scott, but this time he came over and dropped to his knees, then his ass, and kicked Stiles in the thigh. “Would you knock that shit off already?”
Groaning at the new bruise on his leg, Stiles glared at Jackson’s face. He wasn’t even sweating. “What shit? You said it.”
“No, the weakling human shit,” Jackson snapped. “Stop using it as an excuse.”
Stiles lifted himself up onto his elbows. “Fuck off. Not all of us can be superpowered creatures of the night.”
“God, you idiot!” Jackson looked like he was gonna kick Stiles again, but he managed to refrain, fuming down at the ground as his face began to shift. In a rapid movement, he chucked his helmet across the field. The instant regret on his face made it clear he hadn’t meant to throw it that far, but he didn’t go get it, just snarled at Stiles, face human again. “You might not be a werewolf, but you’re not fucking weak, okay? Stop acting like it.”
“Excuse me? I’m not acting like anything!”
“Then stop being so fucking dense!” Jackson shouted. “Dude, you flipped Isaac onto his ass on a full moon, then spent like an hour running circles with a werewolf in the woods before getting tired. Weak people can’t do that.”
The tone of Jackson’s words made Stiles grit his teeth, but the content had him fighting off a blush. “We were just playing around, it’s not like he was actually trying to stop me.”
Pointing at his helmet in the distance, Jackson grimaced. “You seriously think Isaac was bothering to control himself on a full moon? Bullshit. Even Derek was surprised you got Isaac on the ground. Not to mention how many times you’ve apparently just carried me and Scott around while we’re knocked out. Isaac told me about what happened after the rave.”
Stiles flailed his way up to his feet just so he had more space to spread his arms in confusion. “Why are you yelling nice things at me like they’re insults? I don’t understand what’s happening here. If this is what getting hit on is like, I don’t like it.”
Jackson hopped up too, groaning in disgust. “Don’t get your hopes up, Stilinski. I still hate you. I’m just saying you don’t need Derek to keep me from biting you. You could stop me yourself.” He stepped closer and smirked. “It’s whether you would that’s in question.”
As Jackson headed across the green to grab his tossed helmet, Stiles gagged loudly and violently at the implication.
Forget gatorade, where was the bleach?
After what’d happened when Jackson visited the loft for the first time, Derek waited outside the building for the sheriff’s arrival as proof that it wasn’t some kind of trap. Even though he knew that there was nothing to be worried about, he couldn’t shake the feeling he was about to be taken away in handcuffs. Again.
But no, the car that turned the corner and parked against the street instead of in the actual parking lot wasn’t a sheriff’s cruiser, it was the same golden Cougar from the night Matt held the station hostage. The sheriff wasn’t even in uniform, though he still held himself like a cop, shoulders broad and face solemn.
“I’ve gotta say,” the sheriff said as he got closer, “leaving a note with my deputy wasn’t how I expected this to go.” He pulled off his sunglasses once he’d entered the shadow of the building, but it didn’t help him to look any less intimidating.
Derek almost forgot to lead him inside, he was so busy trying to figure out what the greeting was supposed to mean. Only once the sheriff had actually gotten up to the step and started entering Derek’s personal space did he turn and step through the door. “How did you expect it to go?” he asked.
“Well,” the sheriff sighed, “if I’m honest, I assumed it would take at least another murder before you and I got a chance to talk. Probably over the body.”
There was a slight moment of chagrin as Derek led the way up two flights of stairs, but the sheriff didn’t seem bothered by it. He huffed a little, but kept up just fine.
Finally, Derek went back in through the door he’d left open and waited. What for, he didn’t know. Judgment? Appraisal? It’d been a long time since he’d actually been around a…a parent.
The sheriff’s scent was nervous, but he did a good job hiding it in his body language, arms open and swinging as he looked around the living space. He wandered toward the middle of the room and did a circle, noting absently, “I used to know a deputy who lived in this building. Brought his little girl a blanket once. Didn’t realize they were still renting.”
“They’re not. I own it.”
The squint he got in response was a picture perfect replica of Stiles’. “Interesting choice of real estate.”
At Derek’s silence, he put his hands on his hips—another movement Stiles had clearly stolen—and sighed again. “Let’s get down to business, then. Sound good?”
Derek nodded and went to sit on his coffee table, leaving the couch free. “I asked you here to answer your questions.”
It took less than a second for them to come, but they weren’t what Derek had planned answers to.
“Where’s Isaac?”
“With Jackson, why?”
“Do you have a job?”
“No?”
“But money’s not an issue, I assume?”
“No. Why?”
The sheriff shook his head as he sank down onto a cushion. “Ah ah. I thought I got to ask the questions. If you interrupt me anywhere near as much as Stiles does, this’ll take a lot longer than you seem to be able to handle.”
That wasn’t remotely fair. “Excuse me?”
Rough hands went up, somehow managing to still Derek before he’d even had the chance to try and stand. “It’s not meant as an insult, son. I’m only saying—from what Stiles’ told me…you’re not exactly a people person.”
He wasn’t wrong, but Derek’s hackles were still raised. “I manage.”
“Not from what I’ve seen.”
It was more unnerving than he’d hoped it would be, having a stranger in his den. The sheriff may have been Stiles’ dad, but he was still unfamiliar, and watching him get comfortable on the couch was making Derek twitch. Jolting to his feet despite the sheriff’s reassurance, Derek paced to the other side of the room. “Do you have any questions that you can’t just ask Stiles about, or was this pointless?”
“Is my son safe?”
The words stopped Derek a few feet short of the wall he’d intended to lean on. He turned to the sheriff slowly. “What?”
“From what I’ve been told, you werewolves have pretty good hearing, so I doubt you missed that.” If Derek thought the sheriff sounded serious before, it was nothing compared to now. Though he was still sitting on the couch, when he leaned forward to put his elbows on his knees, it felt like a challenge. “I asked you if my son is safe. Is he gonna keep being safe? Because, you see, he keeps telling me about this ‘pack’ thing and how that means everyone having these connections to each other and having each other’s backs. But then he went missing, and the Alpha he kept promising would take care of him was nowhere to be found.”
The accusation hit like a punch to the gut, and Derek turned his back to absorb it.
“Next thing I know, he shows up covered in bruises that he refuses to give me details on and shaking like a leaf. And just an hour or so later, he leaves the house at a run to go help the same pack that’d been ignoring him for over a week.” The sheriff’s voice never came closer, but it still felt like it was pressing in on Derek, demanding his attention. “Do you have any idea how worried he was? Now, he says it’s all better and fixed, and he certainly seems happier, but after what you put my son through, can you blame me for being worried about Isaac?”
Finally, Derek heard the sheriff move, his feet scraping against the floor as he stood. “I’m not going to give you the shovel talk, Derek. I’m just a father, here to find out if this group my son managed to get himself dragged into is going to get him hurt, again. So, I’ll ask you one more time. Is my son safe?”
The dissonance between what Derek had come to recognize as his Alpha instincts and the childlike shame at being yelled at by a parental figure had left Derek with gritted teeth and glowing eyes, but he didn’t bother to force the partial shift back down as he faced the sheriff.
“I doubt that Stiles fully understands it, because I never got the chance to explain it to him, but this isn’t…this isn’t a group.” Derek nearly growled the words. “It isn’t a clique or a gang. This is a pack, and pack is everything.”
God, he was so sick of people not understanding. Growing up, it was just known. Pack was your family and your friends and your life. Pack was home and safety. Every time someone talked about it like an extracurricular you could join and abandoned on a whim, it was like they’d slapped him in the face.
“Every single one of us will protect Stiles with our lives, sir. There is no place safer for him, except maybe with you.”
The relief that poured off the sheriff was sudden and overwhelming. He drooped visibly and his breath deepened and slowed, even as he kept his gaze on Derek’s red eyes. “I think he understands more than you give him credit for.”
Clearing his throat, the sheriff looked around the room again. “You’re what, twenty-two?”
Derek nodded shortly. “Yes, s—”
“Don’t,” the sheriff held a hand up. “Don’t ‘sir’ me, son. I can’t tell you how old it makes me feel. Just call me Noah.”
Just the thought of calling the sheriff by his first name made Derek wrinkle his nose, and the sheriff caught onto it immediately.
“Fine then, call me Sheriff, like all of Stiles’ other friends do. You’re not that much older than them anyway.”
“Six years,” Derek pointed out.
Noah nodded, then tilted his head mid-nod. “Five for Stiles. And Boyd, I believe. Besides, six years feels like nothing once you’re all adults.”
In spite of himself, Derek snorted. “It feels like a lifetime with Isaac.”
“That’s what happens when you become a parent,” Noah said. He nodded his head toward the stairs as though Isaac was just above them. “The others probably just see you as a bigger teenager, but that boy…even I can tell he idolizes you. He doesn’t need a brother, Derek. He needs a father. A real one, not the garbage he had before. If you ever need help with that, you know where to find me.”
That seemed to be the end of it, all the answers Derek had thought out to Noah’s possible questions about the supernatural rendered useless as Noah headed for the door. Before he could disappear around the corner, Derek took a step forward. He wasn’t going to have the chance to get advice about it from anyone else. Well, anyone else he trusted.
“He can’t sleep.”
Noah turned around, one hand in his pocket. “Oh?”
“Isaac. Not since Erica and Boyd were taken. He can’t scent them, and it bothers the hell out of him. I keep having to send him to Stiles' or Jackson’s, but he doesn’t like staying overnight. I don’t…how am I supposed to help him?”
As soon as the question was out, Derek grimaced. The sheriff already doubted his ability to protect Stiles and Isaac; giving him more proof that Derek was failing at being an Alpha would only make things worse.
But Noah rubbed his jaw like it was a problem he'd had his own frustrating experience with. “Give him something of yours. A jacket or a spare blanket. And you can’t exactly read him to sleep, but kids need some kind of routine. A curfew at least. Teenagers are perpetually sleep-deprived in the first place, so you do what you can to combat it, whether they like it or not.”
“Actually,” he added, “that reminds me. I have a few ground rules when it comes to Stiles and this whole—” He waved a hand, “thing.”
Again, his tone dipped into solemnity that Derek could only dream of getting across. “One: you don’t talk to my son about my health. He’s mentioned some stuff about your sense of smell and hearing. Now, I don’t know if you could tell, but Stiles has a tendency to worry too much. I don’t give a damn how much he complains. You don’t tell him anything about whatever you manage to get off me. If my blood sugar’s too high, or you think I’ve got food poisoning or whatever, he doesn’t hear about it, got it?”
At Derek’s nod, he continued, “Two: don’t you ever lie to me about Stiles. Ever.”
“And three: Derek, if my son asks you for the bite, you give it to him. I don’t want to hear anything about him not being able to make that choice for himself. As long as you know Stiles is of sound mind, you take him at his word.”
Summer break wasn’t turning out anything like spring break. Aside from the obvious reasons, Stiles wasn’t stuck at home like he’d been before. He still couldn’t wander around town like he used to, but he wasn’t housebound. When he wasn’t practicing with Jackson or practicing with Scott, or cheering Lydia on from the corner of her room while she took free college courses just to keep herself occupied, Stiles was in the loft.
Isaac was insistent on Stiles and Jackson coming over as often as possible, usually at the same time. Socks and shoes still weren’t allowed, and despite the heat, Isaac usually threw a blanket or a hoodie at him to wear until it was time to leave. Cuddling was mandatory, and if he struggled there would be bruises.
It was like having a little brother, in a much more literal way than his friendship with Scott. Including how annoying he got.
For his part, Jackson was totally at ease with the continuous hangouts, his chagrin at becoming tactile long-forgotten. His bond with Isaac was obvious even to Stiles, now that they’d “worked their shit out” as Isaac explained.
How they’d gotten over Jackson knowing about Isaac’s abuse and not doing anything about it, Stiles wasn’t sure, but whatever they did, it worked. The two of them were practically inseparable. Jackson doted on Isaac more than Stiles could remember him ever doting on Lydia. He even fed into Isaac’s coffee addiction, always showing up with a cup in hand with Isaac’s name on it. It was pointless, since caffeine didn’t even affect werewolves, but that never stopped them.
Ever so slowly, the loft was getting more comfortable to hang out in as well, with ridiculous amounts of food in the fridge and new bits of furniture appearing seemingly out of nowhere every time Stiles went over. A bookcase, an armchair, a rug, even a kitschy photograph of a full moon on the wall that Isaac cackled about when Stiles asked.
The one piece of normal living room furniture that never showed up was a television. Instead, Isaac would bring up a movie on his shiny new laptop, a heavy-duty thing that he used to play games that Stiles hadn’t let him download onto his own computer. Around the beginning of June, regular movie nights were becoming something of a routine.
“Why’re we watching Hocus Pocus?” Jackson asked into Isaac’s shoulder. He’d been draped over him like a blanket for the last thirty minutes of the movie.
Stiles snorted, “Cus’ it’s a classic, Jackass.”
“It’s nowhere near Halloween, Stilinski. Do you not understand the concept of seasonal films?”
Isaac groaned and flicked Jackson’s arm. “Don’t get pretentious, Jack. It’s Hocus Pocus. Just enjoy it.”
When Jackson slowly grappled the back of the couch so he could stand up, Stiles didn’t do more than lift the legs he’d propped on the coffee table and tuck them against his chest long enough for Jackson to pass by. He refused to think of it as a nice gesture. He was just keeping himself from getting bruised when Jackson inevitably kicked his feet out of the way.
“Stilinski, what’s the time?”
“Don’t call me that,” Stiles replied reflexively, not looking away from the screen or answering the question.
“What time is it, Stilinski?” Jackson repeated from near the kitchen. It took less than nothing to piss him off, since he still didn’t have an anchor, but that was no different than the rest of the time Stiles had known him.
The name pricked at Stiles, and he grit his teeth. “I said, don’t call me that, Jackass.”
“Fine. What time is it, Mieczysław?”
Stiles’ body flooded with ice cold sparks.
When Isaac had the others over, Derek kept his distance. It was easier on him and easier on them if he just left them to be idiots in the living room and read a book on his—new and above the floor, finally—bed. Sometimes, he used his own laptop to watch how-to videos for the last few fixes the apartment needed, keeping the volume off to avoid Stiles’ mocking.
Just listening to them was like poking a fresh bruise, giving him little flashes of memories with his brother and sisters that managed to hurt in a good way. Watching them pile on each other made his heart ache and his fingers itch to reach out, but the thought was dispelled by the reality of distress that any actual touch would bring.
He only got the slightest warning before things went to shit one night, a hint in the uptick of Jackson’s heartbeat before he said something that sent Stiles into a fury not unlike the way he’d attacked Chris at the warehouse. Derek looked up in time to see Stiles vault the coffee table in one jump and slam into Jackson so hard they both went down.
“Shut the fuck up!” Stiles roared, bringing his fist down on Jackson’s cheek in a perfectly formed punch that snapped Jackson’s neck to the side. “Shut up!”
Apparently, the shock of the attack was enough to keep Jackson still, because he didn’t block Stiles’ first hit, or his second. It wasn’t until the third that he started fighting back, snarling at the way Stiles had managed to pin his arms down with his knees.
By then, Derek was standing over them. “Stiles, stop!” He wanted to drag Stiles off, but the last time he’d done it, Stiles had shouted like something feral.
Stiles punched Jackson again. “You motherfucking, son of a—”
Then Stiles was on the floor and Jackson was on top of him, baring fangs and reaching for Stiles’ throat. Him, Derek didn’t feel an ounce of guilt about yanking up by the back of his jacket and lifting away, holding him in the air while Isaac dive-bombed Stiles to keep him from going after Jackson again.
“What the fuck is wrong with you two?” Derek shouted.
Under Isaac’s grip, Stiles writhed to get free, his eyes blazing with fury. “You piece of shit, bastard.”
Jackson roared and kicked out at Derek’s knee, shocking Derek into dropping him. He got two steps forward with his claws heading for Stiles’ chest before Derek could pull him back again and force him down to his knees.
“Knock it off. Both of you!” he shouted again, letting some Alpha bleed into his tone to get the point across.
There were silent tears streaming down both of their faces and blood dripping from Jackson’s nose, but Stiles didn’t stop struggling against Isaac’s alarmed grip, and Jackson was growling as badly as he had on the full moon.
Very suddenly, Derek realized that he should have fucking asked why Jackson and Stiles hated each other so much. Clearly fighting over Lydia wasn’t the whole story.
He couldn’t even remember what Jackson had done to start this off. Shaking Jackson’s shoulder, he glared down at his tear-filled blue eyes. “Jackson, shift down.”
Like usual, Jackson obeyed, melting to his mortal shift and no longer trying to get away, but panting hard.
“What did you say to him?”
Jackson tried to scoff, but it turned into an actual cough and then a sniffle as he covered his bloody nose. “I just said his fucking name.”
“That’s not my name!” Stiles hissed, his heart clipping over it as though he’d tried to say the sky was red. “My name is Stiles, you—”
“Stiles!” Derek barked, but they were off again, lobbing insults instead of trying to beat each other to death. It wasn’t much of an improvement.
“No it isn’t! You’re such fucking coward, Stilinski!” Jackson shouted. “What kind of piece of shit refuses to use the name his fucking mother gave him?”
Stiles actually managed to scoff. “Don’t act like you’re doing this for some moral reason, you flaming garbage pile. You literally only do it to piss me off! I warned you what would happen if you didn’t shut your fucking face.”
With a gentle shove to make sure Jackson didn’t try to start the fight again, Derek let him go and went over to Stiles, who’d squirmed his way into sitting in Isaac’s lap, with Isaac’s arms criss-crossed over his chest from behind. “Stiles. Stop.”
Slowly, Stiles stilled and turned to tuck his face against Isaac’s bicep, avoiding eye contact.
Derek nodded at Isaac to let go and crouched. “Stiles. I know you were lying. What is your given name?”
Stiles’ eyes shot to him, narrow and pissed. “I wasn’t lying. It’s not my—”
“What is your given name?”
Growling in frustration, Stiles jerked his way to his feet, so Derek stood up as well, just like he did with the Betas on the full moon. Show no weakness. “My given name is Mieczysław Claudia Stilinski. My actual name is Stiles.”
Jackson snorted as he wiped his nose and brushed nonexistent dust off his knees. “See? I told you. He didn’t start this ‘Stiles’ shit until McCall came around.”
When Stiles tensed, Derek prepared himself to hold Stiles back, screaming or no.
Instead, Stiles’ voice turned to steel. “No, I started it after my mom died, and my dad wouldn’t say my name anymore.”
The instant regret on Jackson’s face would’ve been comical if Derek weren’t so horrified.
“Is that what you wanted to hear?” Stiles asked, stepping forward just far enough that Isaac grabbed the tail of his shirt. “That my dad can’t bring himself to say my fucking name, so I had to make up a nickname for him to use instead?”
“But—”
“And where do you get off, huh? You can’t tell your own parents you love them because they adopted you, but somehow I’m fucked up because I want to use a nickname? How is that any of your business? We haven’t been friends since the fifth grade, Jackson, so you can fuck right off with your righteous ‘I know you better than anyone’ routine.”
With Jackson frozen solid, Stiles twisted to the side away from Isaac and headed for the door, snatching up his socks and shoes without stopping to put them on.
No one moved as Stiles stormed out of the loft, not until Isaac sidled up to Jackson and gave Derek a pointed look.
“I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to go after him or something.”
Derek glanced at the door. “I doubt he wants company. Leave him alone, for now.”
Jackson swallowed softly before whispering, “Fuck, I didn’t—”
“Yeah, Jack,” Isaac sighed. “No one knew.”
After a night of hiding in his room with the window locked and the blinds closed, Stiles headed downstairs to answer the doorbell with a quip on his tongue about rewards for learning to use doors.
He could do this. If he just pretended nothing was wrong, they could forget it ever happened. Isaac was good about laying off the heavy stuff.
Only it wasn’t Isaac at the door, which just proved Stiles needed to stop making assumptions about who was coming to visit him. Now that he had more friends than just Scott and Heather, he kept getting it wrong.
“Get off my property.”
“Dude.”
“Seriously, leave now or I’m calling the cops.”
“Your dad wouldn’t let me be arrested for coming here.”
Slamming the door seemed like the best response to that, but Jackson shoved it back open. “Look, if—if I call you Stiles can I just come in and talk to you? Derek said I have to.”
Stiles grimaced. “Why do you always do what Derek tells you? You’re worse than Isaac.”
“Don’t change the subject. Can I come in, Stiles?”
He didn’t look like he was making fun of Stiles. His eyes were big and that dumb smirk was missing. He wasn’t even dressed up, compared to his usual. He just had one of Isaac’s hoodies on and a pair of black sweats. His hair was still floppy. Ugh, why did floppy hair tell Stiles so much about this douchebag?
“Fine.” Swinging around to pull the door open, Stiles let Jackson into the house and shut the door behind him. “Go up to my room. If my dad sees you here, he’ll think I actually give a fuck about you.”
“Is he here?”
“No, but I’m not taking any risks.”
Nodding, Jackson headed for the stairs like he’d never stopped coming over, leaving Stiles to grab a bottle of water from the fridge and follow at a much slower pace.
Jackson was already sitting on Stiles’ bed, right in Isaac’s favorite spot, like he’d sniffed it out. Which…he probably had. “Dude, what’s with the bottle? You don’t own cups?”
Stiles took a drink as spitefully as he could, throwing Jackson a look while he gulped. When he’d made his point, he recapped it and sat at his desk. “You gonna yell at me about leaving my computer charger plugged in too? Since when are you an environmentalist?”
“Since—goddamnit, why are you so distracting?”
Stiles shrugged. “Talent of mine.”
“I didn’t know, alright?” Jackson snapped. As soon as the words were out, he deflated. “I—I thought you were just doing the ‘Stiles’ thing because you were being pretentious or something. I didn’t know your—you had a reason.”
Jabbing at the bottle he’d set on the desk with a finger, Stiles didn’t look at Jackson as he spoke. “That shouldn’t fucking matter. Nobody knows. I shouldn’t have to tell you something—” he choked at the sudden memory of Erica shoving him into Boyd’s front door, “something Scott doesn’t even know, just to make you back off.”
He got it now, oh, how he got it. Stiles scrubbed his hand over his forehead and closed his eyes. “Why do you have to be such a douchebag? Fucking hell, right in front of them?”
Jackson’s voice was barely above a growl, “You were being an asshole. You always just piss me off.”
When Stiles opened his eyes to glare incredulously at him, Jackson was busy looking at the floor. “Are you kidding? I piss you off? You’re the one who’s been making my life hell since the fifth grade! What did I ever do to you?”
“You left me!” Jackson snapped. His eyes were blue when he made eye contact with Stiles. “You were my only fucking friend, and you just bailed over nothing!”
Stiles jumped to his feet. “I was ten years old, and my mom fucking died, Jackson.”
For once the words didn’t elicit the guilty face Stiles was used to. Jackson didn’t back down even an inch. He stood up too and pointed a claw at the floor as he shouted, “And I was seven months younger than you and had just found out both my parents were dead. That I didn’t have a mom or dad, and the people who raised me had to pick me out of a social services listing after hearing my sob story. That I was a pity child. And when I told my best friend about it, you screamed at me and left.”
He shook his head and moved his point toward the window. “A week later McCall moved to town and you never looked back. I’d just found out that my parents weren’t technically my parents, and I had no one. I was just this dyslexic loser with no friends for months until Danny sat next to me at lunch.
“And you didn’t just leave, Mieszko—no, of course you didn’t. You turned into a totally different person. It was like you never existed! New best friend, new reputation, new name. I couldn’t even tell other people I knew you because I couldn’t figure out what the hell a ‘Stiles’ was. So, I called you Stilinski.”
Stiles sank back into his chair and just stared. After a second, Jackson dropped down to the bed again. The silence that fell over the room was stiff and awkward, and Stiles had no idea what to do about it.
“I can’t believe you still remember how to say it,” he finally muttered.
“It took me like a week to get the pronunciation right the first time; I don’t plan on having to relearn it.”
Clearing his throat, Stiles bit the bullet. “I didn’t…when you told me…I was barely functioning, and my dad didn’t know what to do with me so he just sent me back to school. And you just…it felt like you were bragging somehow. About how you had four parents, while I only had one. About how you got chosen, while my dad was stuck with me.”
“Jesus, Mieszko, I wasn’t—”
“I know that!” Stiles interrupted. “Now. It just…with my ADHD, everything just…stupid random shit feels like someone’s yelling at me. Everything feels like a jab, and it’s so frustrating. I can’t think clearly when I’m pissed off, it just sort of—takes over. I was mad, and that was all that mattered. And being angry was easier than dealing with everything else going on in my head. I’m sorry, okay?”
Jackson’s eyes narrowed. “Why do you always have to bring up your ADHD when you do something wrong?”
Stiles narrowed his eyes back. “Because it’s a neurological disorder that affects literally everything in my brain. Do you know how hard feelings are? There’s no regulation. I couldn’t make myself cry for two days after the funeral, and then I cried for a week. My dad almost had to take me back to the hospital because I was dehydrated. You’d think a ‘dyslexic loser’ would get what it’s like to have something people only associate with bad grades fuck up every aspect of your life.”
“Fair point.” Jackson flopped backward onto the bed like that was the end of it.
More silence, then Stiles felt the need to mention, “I’m still mad at you.”
Jackson snorted. “Yeah, well I’m still mad at you too, asshole.”
“Being mad at you for six years is exhausting.”
“Yup.”
“Scoot over.”
Groaning, Jackson shuffled over enough for Stiles to climb on the bed and lay next to him, squinting at the ceiling. “I’m not gonna lie and say that I didn’t mean to leave you behind, dude. Because I did. That was definitely something I did on purpose. Scott showed up, and he was…new, you know? He was a completely blank slate. He didn’t know my mom. He didn’t know you or how shitty everything was. He didn’t even know my name. I just wanted to start over. So, I told him my name was Stiles, and he never asked about the real one. It was easier than trying to fix anything with you.”
Jackson elbowed him, but it was actually gentle. “And you call me the douchebag.”
“You’ve been shoving me into lockers for years, and don’t pretend you don’t aim for my head during practice. We’re both douchebags.”
“Miesz—uh, Stiles—”
“You can call me that, if you’re gonna be so pathetic about it.”
Jackson’s eyes bored into him from the side. “Seriously? You literally tried to beat my face in yesterday.”
Stiles shrugged. “You were trying to humiliate me. This is different. If you tell anyone, I’ll fucking kill you, but…I—I kinda miss it.”
An arm shoved itself under Stiles’ neck and pulled him into Jackson’s side in a half-assed hug. “Of course you do, dumbass. It’s your name.”
—
Being in the loft when Derek wasn’t there was kinda intimidating sometimes. Sure, Isaac was there, and he lived there so it wasn’t like Stiles was trespassing, but it still managed to feel like he was wandering through school after hours.
“Where is he, anyway?” he asked, poking at the lasagna Isaac had practically shoved at him once he got in the door. “I thought he didn’t like leaving you home alone?”
Isaac scoffed. “Come on, we’ve totally moved past that. He trusts me.”
“You told him I was on the way over, didn’t you?”
“Yup.”
“Thought so.”
With a scowl, Isaac pushed away his own empty plate. “It doesn’t even make any sense. You’re human, how’re you supposed to protect me? If he’s that worried about me, why doesn’t he make Peter be here too?”
Stiles was about to argue that he could totally protect Isaac, but stopped at the last sentence. “Peter? What are you talking about? Peter shouldn’t be anywhere near you.”
Isaac shrugged. “I really don’t get your issue. Like, I get that he’s clearly some kind of awful, but he’s been acting pretty fucking harmless. He’s kinda…weird. But he’s still helping us, and he hangs out here when Derek needs to go brood or something.”
“Helping you?”
“Were you not listening on the full moon? He’s been helping search for Erica and Boyd since day one. Seriously, sometimes he gets here and just passes out on the couch because he was running through the preserve.”
The words irked Stiles on so many levels, he couldn’t even describe them all. Peter was dangerous. Derek knew this, so why was he letting his uncle anywhere near Isaac?
Before he could think it through, Stiles twirled his fork on his plate and grinned at Isaac’s wince as the metal scraped against ceramic. “Listen, if Peter’s gonna be around all the time, would you just give him my number? It’ll make things easier if Derek makes him deliver a message or something.”
Isaac raised a brow. “You were just arguing that he shouldn’t be near us. Now you want him to have your phone number?”
“Duh,” Stiles sighed. “If he has my number then he has no excuse to hunt me down again. Besides, it’s an ‘in case’ thing. Backup plans are important.”
“Alright, fucking weirdo,” Isaac snorted. “Are you gonna help me make these brownies or what? Derek always looks like he’s gonna have an aneurysm when I make boxed baked goods. It’s my only joy in life.”
Patting his stomach, Stiles sent Isaac a wink and stood up. “Far be it from me to deny you joy. I get half.”
“You get like two.”
“Four.”
“Three.”
“Deal.”
—
Unknown: I have to say, Stiles, I’m pleasantly surprised.
Stiles’ lip curled in disgust as he looked down at the new message on his phone. He’d almost forgotten that he’d asked Isaac to give Peter his number, and now that it’d happened, he already regretted it.
Don’t b. We need 2 talk.
Peter Hell: Sounds fun. Would you like me to wait for your father to leave?
Stiles jumped up from his desk and looked out the window, only for his phone to buzz again.
Peter Hell: I’m not at your house, Stiles. I drove by earlier and saw his car outside.
Stay away frm my house nd my dad or I’ll kill u.
Peter Hell: You use that threat way too often. Come up with something new, won’t you?
Peter Hell: If not your house, where are we supposed to meet?
The house in the preserve, in an hour.
Peter Hell: As you wish.
The text was followed by an actual thumbs up emoji, and Stiles couldn’t figure out whether the accidental reference or the emoji usage freaked him out more.
Eventually, he brushed it off and went to grab his backpack, double checking the jar of wolfsbane in it. He wasn’t entirely sure what it would do to someone who wasn’t already poisoned, but it was the only defense he had. Some more of that mountain ash would be helpful, but when Stiles had gone by the rave warehouse a couple weeks ago, there’d been no sign of the precious circle he’d created, and he wasn’t willing to ask Deaton for any. The guy still weirded him out.
He arrived exactly on time, since he couldn’t decide whether it was safer to arrive early or late. Early meant he might not notice when Peter showed up, and late would give Peter time to get a bunch of backup ready or set a trap. So, on time it was.
Peter was already there, sitting on the porch steps.
“Stiles!” he said, almost cheerily, like they were friends or something. “What can I do for you?” He looked around then, actually scanning the trees. “You’re by yourself, then? I’m amazed Derek’s letting you in the preserve without supervision.”
However happy he was to be in Derek’s pack, Stiles wasn’t a fan of being told what to do, but his retort cut away at the sight of a big, jagged looking triskele slathered over the front door of the house. “What—What is that?”
Raising a brow, Peter turned to look at it, then back. “That would be the Alpha pack’s symbol. They wanted to leave a nice little message to let us know where your pack members were.” He waved a hand. “I was thinking of painting over it. If I’m going to keep having to meet you all out here, I might as well fix up the place, don’t you think?”
“Why are you here? What do you want from Derek?” Stiles asked.
The explosive sigh Peter let out was unexpected. He threw up his hands as well and spoke to the sky. “Why does everyone keep asking me that?”
When he dropped his gaze from the clouds, it was with a long-suffering look. “I don’t suppose you would believe me if I told you that I was here to help, would you?”
Apparently, the look on Stiles’ face said enough.
“Of course, not. Why would you?” Peter huffed, slapping his hands down on his knees.
“Exactly,” Stiles snapped. He was tired of Peter’s little monologues. “Why the hell would I ever believe that after what you did? You murdered people, Peter, you don’t get to walk around expecting anybody to think you have Derek’s best interests in mind.”
However much Stiles had managed to annoy Peter in their few short times together, he didn’t think he’d ever actually made him angry. This looked pretty damn angry.
In an instant, Peter was far closer than the ten foot perimeter Stiles had requested, glaring down their miniscule height difference in a way that made Stiles feel about two feet tall.
“You think I don’t know that?” he snarled. “Do you really think I need a teenage boy to remind me that my own nephew thinks that I’m out for his blood?”
“Why shouldn’t he? Wouldn’t be the—” Stiles stopped talking when Peter’s eyes turned an icy blue. They were so similar to how Derek’s used to be, the couple times Stiles had seen them, but where Derek had almost seemed to hide them by shifting his eyes back down after a single moment, Peter glared him down for a good ten seconds before finding his cool.
Derek had long since stopped scaring Stiles, but Peter was a whole other beast. Literally. Stiles could still remember how he’d looked as an Alpha, and it wasn’t a vision he was interested in seeing again anytime soon.
Peter could clearly tell Stiles was nervous, and his smile was bitter as he glanced around again. “You clearly consider me a threat, Stiles. So tell me, why did you come alone?”
Stiles’ shoulder twitched instinctively, unsettling his bag. The next second it was gone, flying across the yard to land on a half dead bush.
“Don’t tell me you were relying entirely on a strand of wolfsbane that would take days to kill me? It took two Molotovs for you to put me down last time.”
He had a point. Somehow, it hadn’t crossed Stiles’ mind how long it would take to kick in even if it did work.
“I told Derek where I was going,” he said through gritted teeth. It wasn’t a lie. He had told Derek, in a note that was currently sitting in his desk drawer.
Peter paused for almost a whole two seconds, then grinned like a shark. Or rather, a wolf. “Oh did you?”
“Yes.”
“Did you tell him in person?”
Stiles curled his fingers into a fist before biting out, “No.”
“Over the phone, maybe?” Peter asked.
Shit. “No.”
Peter nodded, then looked up at the sky for a second. “Tell me, Stiles. Does Derek know you’re here?”
“I told him—”
“Yes, yes, you told him. But does he know?”
Stiles looked at the ground.
With a disappointed sigh, Peter stepped back. “You’re supposed to be the smart one. Don’t try to lie to me. You shouldn’t have come to the preserve alone.”
He wasn’t being attacked, so Stiles didn’t try to control his tone. “I’m not gonna let you brainwash Derek like you did last time.”
“I didn’t brainwash him,” Peter snapped. He was still angry, and all his sarcastic snark was cracking. “He’s my nephew.”
“And Laura was your niece!” Stiles shouted.
“I didn’t mean to hurt her!” Peter’s roar made even him startle to look at the trees. The Alpha pack was a danger to all of them, including Peter. When he’d decided it was safe, he glanced back at Stiles, then scoffed and stormed away toward the house.
Stiles followed him right up to the steps. “Peter, that is possibly the sickest joke you’ve ever made.”
But Peter didn’t look like he was joking. He looked like someone had ripped his heart out of his chest. “Leave.”
“You’re…you’re serious? How could—how does that even work?”
“Stiles, leave before I do something I’ll regret.” His voice was soft and deadly as he tried to walk away again.
“No! Tell me what you mean!”
With another roar, Peter turned on him, and Stiles scrambled backwards, falling on his ass. All of his poking was finally going to get him killed. Why couldn’t Stiles learn to shut the hell up?
They stared at each other for a second, Peter in full fang and Stiles trying to make his heart stop pounding out of his chest. Then, Peter’s fangs melted away.
“It was an accident,” he said. “Or…it wasn’t. But it was.”
Not moving, Stiles squinted at him. “You’re not making any sense.”
“You don’t understand how painful it is to be separated from one’s pack, as a wolf. Erica and Boyd, a few months is nothing compared to six years without my Alpha.” Peter again backed up, but it was more of a stumble, while he gazed around like he was lost. “When I finally started healing enough to shift on the full moon, I barely had the presence of mind not to reveal myself to the entire hospital. I was hanging on by a thread.
“And when Jennifer dragged me out to the woods—”
Stiles had been slowly shifting to actually sit in the dirt, and while he brushed the little rocks that were sticking to his palms off, he interrupted. “Wait, wait, Jennifer dragged you? She was your minion.”
Peter glared at him. “I couldn’t move, Stiles, not unless it was a full moon, and even then, I had the mobility of a toddler. It wasn’t exactly difficult for her to shove my wheelchair out the door.”
“But what about the deer? And the picture that brought Laura to town?” Scott had explained a little of what he’d found out about Jennifer getting a copy of the report from Deaton.
“Again,” Peter snapped, “incapable of movement. You think I had the focus and control to carve a perfect spiral into a deer’s side? Let alone force the human who kept me alive to send an e-mail for me?”
“But you drew it on the window of Scott’s car!”
“After I was an Alpha!” His tone was rising again. “When the wolf wanted nothing but revenge.”
This entire conversation was like being hit over the head, then asked to count out multiples of seven. “The wolf?”
“My wolf.”
“I thought—Derek always says you guys don’t have a ‘wolf.’ That you’re not part wolf, part human, just all werewolf.”
A cruel smile spread across Peter’s face. “Exactly, so you can imagine the kind of monster that appeared when Jennifer split me in half. Do you think my full shift has always looked like that?”
“Jennifer—”
“Tore my psyche in half and left both parts completely demented. One mindless beast, one twisted human. And then, she sicc’d me on the Alpha who’d abandoned me in a hospital and ran across the country.”
Stiles was nauseous, but he didn’t move. “That’s why you killed Laura? Why you killed Jennifer?”
“I knew enough to want to put myself back together, but it didn’t fix itself with her death. So, I fixed it with mine.”
“Jesus Christ, Peter.” Stiles climbed to his feet. “Let me get this straight. Jennifer, the nurse, carved up a deer, then delivered a picture of it to lure Laura to town, then forced a Jeckel and Hyde situation on you, but with two Hydes. All so she could make a mostly paralyzed wolf murder his niece and then let him go on a killing spree?” He crossed his arms. “I gotta say, that’s the most elaborate and outrageous lie I’ve ever heard. Seriously, living with werewolves hasn’t stunted your abilities at all.”
Peter’s lip twitched into a snarl. “The killing spree was just a way for her to keep me busy. I was a guard dog, just like Jackson.”
That pulled Stiles up short. It was eerily familiar to Jackson’s story. Gerard had been around for most of the time Jackson was a kanima, but only killed Matt and took control when it was convenient for him. He’d let Matt keep Jackson distracted. “Isaac told me Gerard wanted Jackson to help him get the bite from Derek. To deal with an Alpha that he couldn’t overpower on his own. What the hell would Jennifer want that she had to have a feral Alpha on a leash to get it?”
“Not what. Who.”
“Okay, who?”
Peter squinted at him. “Who came running to our territory as soon as they heard there was a new Hale Alpha?”
Stiles shrugged. “The hunters?”
“Who else?”
A shiver of fear worked its way down Stiles’ spine. “The Alphas? She was after the Alphas, so she needed an Alpha of her own?”
Tipping his head to the side in agreement, Peter waved his hand a little. “I bet you’re glad she’s dead now, aren’t you?”
For a second, Stiles tried to backtrack, all the way to the original reason that he’d come here. “So, that’s why Derek is letting you around Isaac and having you help him?”
“No, he’s doing that because I’m still not at full power, so I would have no chance of beating him in a fight, and because his only other choice for help is two teenage bitten wolves.”
Stiles twisted his face up. “Why would Derek be worried about you getting in a fight with him if he knows—” he snapped his fingers and immediately changed direction, shaking his head. “He doesn’t know, does he? You didn’t tell him.”
Peter grimaced. “No, and I have no intention to.”
“But why?” Stiles groaned. “Do you just like soaking in all this man-pain or what? Why the hell wouldn’t you want Derek to know that you were being manipulated?”
“Because I still did it!” Peter stepped toward Stiles and jabbed a finger at him. “I may not have wanted to kill Laura, but I still wanted to hurt her. I was devastated and furious, and I still committed the worst atrocity a wolf can commit. I will not guilt my nephew into forgiving me when he has every right to hate me. I will stay, I will help, and I will pay penance for what I’ve done. And you will not tell him, Stiles. Do you understand me? I like you—”
Even knowing that Peter was slightly less awful than he’d thought, that was still gross to hear.
“But if you betray me in this, I will have no qualms about making you regret it. This is not your secret to tell.”
Swallowing hard, Stiles nodded. “Got it.”
The closer Isaac got to Jackson and Stiles, the more confident he got. In everything. Right down to bugging the crap out of Derek.
Most of the time, it was something relatively easy to brush off. Random facts Isaac wanted to know about Derek or about werewolves in general. Could werewolves have allergies to non-magical things? Why didn’t werewolves get weaker on new moons if they got stronger on full moons? Why did Derek wear so many sweaters if his normal temperature was so hot?
But sometimes, it hit too close to home.
“What did you do during the summer? When you were a kid, I mean?” Isaac asked, jabbing at his cereal with his spoon. “You didn’t seriously sit in your room and read the entire summer, right? I mean, didn’t you say you had a sister?”
It was a hard question to get first thing in the morning, and Derek had to blow out a slow breath before he could answer. “We—I spent most of my time in the preserve, actually. Running or swimming—”
“Swimming?” Isaac perked up, dropping his spoon. “Like in a lake? Cus’ I’m not going near a pool; it stinks.”
“Lakes aren’t much better,” Derek pointed out. “They mostly smell like dead fish.”
Isaac just waved it off. “Yeah, but it’s not chlorine. What lake did you go to?”
Derek blinked at him. “Uh…our lake?”
“You owned a lake?”
“Only technically. We own the land around it. We never stopped hikers from using it though.”
Squinting, Isaac leaned forward. “Own, as in present-tense? As in you still own it?”
Derek nodded and braced himself for the inevitable question.
Isaac was practically vibrating, bouncing on his toes and completely ignoring his soggy cereal. “Can we go?”
“You’re not going anywhere alone,” Derek warned. “If you’re not finishing that, put your dishes away.”
Grabbing at his bowl so fast the milk nearly splashed out, Isaac headed to the sink. “Yeah, stupid, that’s why I said ‘we.’ I mean all of us. I can call Jackson and Stiles; that way you can be overprotective of everyone at once, just like you like.”
It wasn’t a bad idea, just one that made Derek’s stomach ache. He hadn’t been near the lake since coming back to Beacon Hills. Way too many memories. But Isaac was looking at him again, somehow managing to convey the same emotion as he’d had when he was sitting in the ruins of Derek’s home and saying, “It was yours. That makes it ours.” It was like Isaac was determined to bury himself in being a Hale, no matter how painful it was for Derek.
“Do you even own swim trunks?” Derek finally asked.
Isaac smirked. “Do you?”
—
Isaac took back the dismissal of dead fish smells before the lake ever came into view, clamping a hand over his nose and groaning with his whole body so that he nearly fell into a tree. “How do you stand it?”
Smirking, Derek glanced over at Jackson, who wasn’t quite as overwhelmed but still had his nose covered. “You get used to it.”
The closer they got to the lake, the more excited Jackson and Isaac got and at the first glimpse of shimmering green water, they both dashed off. Stiles stayed behind.
He’d smelled off since arriving at the loft to hitch a ride; more anxious than usual and jumpy even with Isaac, but he’d still come along without complaint. Instead of a towel, he had a blanket over his arm, and his ever-present backpack hiked up on his shoulder. Now that they’d actually reached the small shore, Stiles’ scent went bitter. He didn’t even look at the water, just went to drop down on a relatively clear section of dry sand.
He didn’t look bad enough that Derek felt like he needed to do anything, so instead he headed for a specific boulder that he could remember jumping off of in high school. It stuck out over the water far enough that jumping put him past the shallows.
Already waist deep in the water, Jackson flicked a wet hand toward the shore. “Meiszko, you coming?”
The name was new, but it was the reconciliation between Stiles and Jackson that had thrown Derek when they showed up at the loft. Gone was the tension and the sharp edged comments. Now there was just this name, and the uncertainty of whether or not Derek was supposed to use it or avoid it. Sitting down to get his shoes off, Derek watched the interaction.
“Do I look like I’m dressed to hop in a lake?” Stiles asked, stretched out on the blanket already, with his phone in hand.
“You look like you haven’t seen the sun in years. Come on, white-belly,” Jackson pushed.
Stiles had one leg hooked up on his knee, and his foot bounced lightly as he answered, “I don’t swim anymore, Jackson. Don’t splash me.”
Miraculously, Jackson dropped the subject immediately, nodding shortly and turning away to slosh and then swim to where Isaac was up to his chest.
“Is the pet name exclusive?” Isaac asked. He sunk down a little as he waited for an answer, until only his nose and up were visible.
Stiles propped himself up on an elbow. “Uh, are you talking to me?”
Isaac revealed his mouth again. “Duh. Is the pet name exclusive to Jack, or do we get to call you Meeshco too?”
Even from almost fifty feet away, Derek could see Stiles’ face turn red. “Why would you wanna do that?”
“Cus’ it’s your name, dumbass,” Jackson called. “We’ve been over this.” He turned to Isaac and shuffled closer to mutter, “It’s Mieszko, not Meeshco.”
Isaac frowned. “M—what?”
“Mieszko,” Jackson repeated slowly.
“Mieshko.”
“No, dude. Mye-shko.”
Isaac looked over at Stiles. “Well? I’m not learning how to pronounce this if you’re gonna punch me for using it.”
Stiles’ groan didn’t cover up the clear embarrassment in his tone. “Uh, sure dude. If you really wanna. Just…not in public.”
“Mieszko,” Isaac called proudly. “Got it!”
Stiles covered up his face. “Yup. I’m gonna regret this.”
While the others lapsed into their own conversations, or in Stiles’ case, phone games, Derek resettled himself on the rock and looked out at the lake.
Six years didn’t make much difference out here. The trees that curled around the edges of the shore were a little taller, a little thicker. Some were blown down. But the water itself was the same as always. If he unfocused his eyes, Derek could practically see the waves and the splashes of Cora kicking wildly every time Laura let go of her while she tried to teach her to float. Letting one foot hang over the edge of the boulder, still a foot or two above the waterline, Derek almost jerked at the memory of Lucas yanking him down to the water before diving back down to go sneak up on someone else.
Prue and Peter had traded off watching Bastian most of the time in Derek’s freshman year, leaving one of them free to throw a foam football across the water so Derek could race Lucas and Laura toward it while Cora shouted for her current favorite sibling on the sideline. Even after Paige, Cora still picked him most often to cheer for.
He’d refused to come in sophomore year. As soon as the water was warm enough for a wolf, they’d started heading out on the weekends, but he’d stayed behind. He’d thought he had better things to do.
Shaking his head, Derek yanked off his shirt and tossed it down to the beach with his shoes. She wasn’t going to ruin this for him.
Derek cannonballed into the water, letting the entire world go dark and cold and just a little slimy as he sank beneath the surface. When he was Cora’s age, he’d been terrified of deep water, sure that something would come out of the darkness to drag him down to oblivion. Laura and Lucas had teased him mercilessly, slinking under the water to grab at his ankles and pinch his legs. It was Peter who’d reminded him, too sarcastic to be particularly kind, but a lot less judgmental, that should anything come after Derek, his pack would rip it to shreds. Why fear, when he had pack to protect him?
When he’d sunk as far as he wanted, Derek finally bothered to uncurl and swam back up to the surface, the water around him growing lighter even though everything stayed tinted a dark green. There was a face above the water, hovering over the edge of the boulder with their mouth moving.
“Derek!” Stiles’ voice crashed over him as he came up for air. “Jesus Christ!”
Whipping his hair out of his face with a shake of his head, Derek squinted up at him. “What?”
“You—Derek, you don’t float,” Stiles snapped. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I’m swimming, Stiles. I don’t need to float when I can swim.” To prove the point, Derek did a quick backstroke, only to stop as he noticed how panicked Stiles looked. “Wh—” he cut himself off as he started to understand. “Stiles, I can swim. I’ve been swimming since I was a kid.”
Derek was an excellent swimmer, so long as he wasn’t being paralyzed by kanima venom.
Kicking himself a little closer, Derek frowned. “Is that why you won’t come in?”
Now that he understood what the pulling at his bond was, Derek knew that Stiles had panicked even worse than he’d thought when they fell in the water, but he didn’t know it was affecting Stiles this much. There was no doubt that they’d both nearly died, but Stiles hadn’t shown any trepidation about everything else that had almost killed them, so why was a few hours in a pool messing him up this badly?
“No,” Stiles scoffed, even as his hand jerked away from a patch of wetness on the rock. “I just don’t swim, alright?”
“You swam just fine at the—”
“I said don’t, Derek, not can’t. I fucking hate water, okay? Just—don’t scare me like that.” Stiles’ head disappeared, and then he was back on the beach, his blanket barely visible from Derek’s position.
A quick glance Jackson and Isaac’s way told him they’d been listening in, so Derek just shrugged at them and swam in their direction. Above water, never disappearing underneath it.
Stiles didn’t like water. Noted. |
There was a certain beauty to Idris, one that Magnus had learned to appreciate over the years. That was always what he tried to focus on whenever he was asked to go there, and this time wasn’t an exception. The Clave had requested a Truth Potion, to be brought by him personally.
And since they were paying him handsomely, Magnus obliged happily. He could endure the Shadowhunter’s brightest and best for an hour if that paid for his next vacation with Alec. Magnus had endured much more for much worse.
Of course, he wasn’t expecting to be conducted to the cells and be asked to administrate the potion himself.
An hour turned to three and Magnus was beyond done with that entire realm.
When he was finally dismissed, Magnus was in a horrible mood. He had lost a meeting with an important client and there was no way he was going to make it to his last appointment to the day. At that point, Magnus’ day was lost.
And he was going to charge it. Every minute of it.
Magnus blinked, realizing he had been wandering around the cells in his anger. The galleries went down and beyond, turning darker at every step, and Magnus snapped his fingers to conjure some light. He had to find his way back in order to open a portal back home. Since some downworlders were kept in those crypts, portals or any kind of magic that would allow a warlock to escape was blocked.
Down there, there was only the scum of the Downworld. The very worst. And many of them were sent there by Magnus himself.
But only one of them had really meant something. Only one of them had hurt. Only one of them mattered. And she was looking right at him.
“Magnus,” Camille Belcourt said in a whisper. Even in dirty rags and a mess of a hair, she was still beautiful. There was a predatory quality to her, something that went beyond her vampire nature. In fancy clothes or covered in blood, Camille’s presence was always felt. “Am I dead?”
“No, my dear,” Magnus said calmly. She was sitting at the back of her cell, unnervingly still. “You’ve told me once a mundane seer had seen your death. That it would be a sudden death. It’d take you by surprise.”
Camille stared at him and her eyes didn’t show anything. Not until she smiled with fondness. “I remember. You gave me that necklace, then. The one that glowed when demons were near. The most beautiful gift anyone has ever given me.”
Magnus sighed. “But you gave it to the Clave. As a bribe to get rid of yet another violation.”
“And now it’s dangling on the neck of a pretty shadowhunter.” Camille tilted her head to the side. “Because you gave it to her. The necklace is just like us, dear. Time passes by, moving from one person to another, but it stays. It will always endure.”
The necklace was destroyed, its gem, in pieces. But Magnus nodded and crossed his arms over his chest. He wondered when did he start to take such a defensive position near her. Probably not soon enough.
But then again, whatever they had, it hadn’t always been so horrible, so destructive. Magnus still remembered when he first met Camille, at a meeting in the London Institute. He remembered her irreverence, her wit. How she had bent the shadowhunters with a word and a smile, how she never caved to their revolting demands.
It took a single meal for Magnus to fall in love with her. It took them another decade to get together for the first time. And what a time that was. Back then, everything seemed so urgent and yet, so insignificant. Magnus had given his mansion in exchange of a necklace and then celebrated for an entire night. Camille had danced with him until the first ray of sun came out, laughing and kissing him with delight.
Look at the sky, she had said, that night from the safety of the heavy drapery’s shadows. Do you see the light, my dear? Do you see how it shines? I want you to know I do not miss it. Not when I can see the sun in your eyes.
“I hope you’re right. I hope we endure.” Magnus touched the bars, running his fingers down. “I don’t regret sending you here, not when it saved Raphael. But I do not want you gone.”
Camille nodded. She had always been choleric, quick to love and even quicker to anger. But now, she just sat there in serenity. Months in a cell wouldn’t have broken her. Magnus would be surprised if she even felt they pass by.
But in the darkness, there was only the two of them. No need for masks, no need for games. They were over that. They had been for years. Now, there was nothing they could do to hurt each other.
“You’re so good,” Camille said eventually. What surprised Magnus was that there was no scorn in her voice, no mockery. It was but an observation. “You’ve always been good. Even when the world is cruel, you are not. And you could be, Magnus. I’ve seen it in your heart. It’s a choice you make every single time. I wish I could love you for that like I once did.”
No. It was not love that lingered between them. Magnus didn’t know what was it, why he still cared. But he knew he did.
“You could make this choice too. You used to, more or less. You fought for your kind once, for all of us.” Magnus inhaled deeply, looking at the way Camille shook her head. “But you don’t anymore because you are afraid. Afraid it will make you lose your power. Afraid it will make you care. My dear Camille, I think you’re just afraid to be happy.”
She sneered at that. “Please. Happy like you and your boy toy? For what? Just to have it taken away from me? To suffer again and again, forever? Not all of us can be like you, Magnus. Some of us give up and cannot be talked back from it. Some of us don’t care anymore. I don’t want to feel anything. I forgot how to do it and I do not want to remember.”
A lie. Magnus could see it clearly, not only on the way her voice wavered but in the tears in her eyes. Red tears of blood. “You know, it’s okay to cry. You’ve told me that when I needed to hear it the most.”
“Go,” Camille said. “Leave me be.”
But Magnus stayed. He sat down by the bars. He listened to her sobs. He stayed by her side, like once she had stayed by his when he too thought there was no reason to live anymore. Magnus didn’t say anything, didn’t promise it would get better, didn’t try to make her feel better.
Because that was what they did. They endured and they always would. |
Sherlock paid the driver, rushing inside with John’s hand in his own. He opened the front door with the keys, and as they were about to walk up the stairs, Mrs Hudson came out from her flat. They had to take several minutes to have a natter with her (well John did as he had always liked Mrs Hudson and so it was always nice to catch up with her) but they managed to get away fairly quickly, thanks to Sherlock’s moodiness.
John couldn’t help laughing as they fell through the door to the flat like they'd done many times in the past when they'd come home after a case. John stumbled slightly but he happily fell against Sherlock and brought their lips together once again.
"I love you." He said again, knowing that he was probably saying it too much but he didn’t care in that moment. He wanted Sherlock to know that he loves him.
Sherlock gripped onto John so they didn’t both fall over, moving his leg to balance them. “I- love you- too.” Sherlock muttered between kisses, making it harder to hear exactly what he said.
After a lot of kissing and hugging, Sherlock led them to the sofa, noticing how John was leaning on him, both from tiredness and sore muscles. He lay John down first, and then lifted the omega’s legs so that he could sit down, allowing John’s legs to rest on his own. “Sleep. You look exhausted.”
"I don't want to go to sleep. I want to stay up and cuddle you." John said, curling up against Sherlock and hooking their legs together so they couldn't move. "Although you are very comfortable." He smiled and kissed Sherlock's jaw. "I feel a bit drunk, even though I haven't had anything. I think I'm just that happy..."
“Drunk on happiness. I did an experiment on it a while back. It didn’t turn out too well but I suppose I can see how the phrase is correct.” "God, I've missed you." John grinned and joined their lips as he turned slightly so the angle wasn't awkward or uncomfortable.
Wanting to be closer, John shifted again so he was straddling Sherlock. He knew that he was not exactly taking it slow and it could be seen as John just being here for sex but he was more than happy to just kiss Sherlock while straddling him and have it lead to nothing. He wouldn't complain if it did lead to more but he was not expecting it to. He just wanted to be close to Sherlock.
"I'm sorry... I can't... stop." John gasped the words between kisses. "I've missed... you, so... bloody much."
Sherlock’s hands found their way to John’s hips immediately, gripping onto the soft curves that would only ever be found on an omega, such curves that would turn an Alpha on; and they were definitely turning Sherlock on. He kissed and sucked, exploring John’s mouth, making him want to explore John’s body further. And so he did.
His hands drifted southwards, massaging the beautiful flesh lovingly as he went. He spent several precious moments kneading the glorious globes of flesh that contained so much power and energy, before moving down once again, only to find heavy, muscular thighs, so atypical of an omega.
They were thighs that belonged to an athlete, therefore in societies eyes, they must be a pair of Alpha thighs because Alphas were the powerful once. Not the omegas. Omegas were soft and curvy, able to breed and cook, not fight. But that didn’t matter to Sherlock, they only egged him on further, making him suck and kneed faster, harder, his levels of desire sawing out of control as he was so desperate to be with his omega once more.
But Sherlock couldn’t vocalize this desperation. It was too emotional for him to even put into words so, naturally his mind moved away from those feelings. And this was why they had spent the last decade and a half away from each other. See, in Sherlock’s mind he could now understand why John had left: he didn’t want society to see him as a pathetic rule abiding omega yet he put some of the blame on himself. He believed that if he had vocalized his feelings, told John that he was a strong and powerful omega who could be whoever he wanted to be (as evident by the muscular thighs that he had), John might have stayed because he might have ignored what society thought and only focused on how Sherlock felt.
However all of that was in the past now. He could only learn from his mistakes and help them to mold the future. So Sherlock spoke up, loud and proud, not wanting John to ever feel that way again; that he was inferior.
“I can’t control myself around you, John. You are my biggest weakness, in a good way, of cause. Whenever I am around you I just want you to be mine, not because you are an omega but because you are a powerful and brilliant man who manages to keep out of trouble and help me when I am so out of my depth. Because we are the complete opposite in so many ways. Alpha/ Omega. Aggressive/ Caring. Sociopath/ Over emotional (at times). Detective/ Doctor.”
John has no idea how to response to that so he simply stareed at Sherlock for a few drawn-out moments. John was brought back to himself by the feeling of hot moisture on his face. It took him a few second to realise that he was crying. When he does realise, the omega couldn't help but feel out of control and that just caused more tears to spill down his face.
Instead of running like he had so many times, to go cry alone where no one was able to see the pain, he let instinct take over and he let himself curl around Sherlock. It may be his instinct as an Omega that contributed to the fact he's seeking comfort in Sherlock but John felt the love driving him on too. Alpha and Omega instincts are nothing compared to that. John wanted to be held by the man he loves, who loves him just as much and there wasn’t any shame in that.
"Th-Thank you." John sobbed.
Sherlock griped onto John tightly, his arms engulfing the crying omega like mist descends on a town. He hated to see his omega cry yet he knew that in that moment it was a good thing, that it would help the healing process that John was no doubt going through. He needed this to let all of his trapped emotions out, closing off all the past anguish and heartache. After this John might be able to finally move on with his life and except Sherlock as his Alpha.
Sherlock knew that the next few months will be filled with struggles that they would have to overcome but he also knew that they will succeed, that they were so much better and stronger people than they had been 13 years ago.
John continued to cling to Sherlock, his fingers wrapping around the fabric of Sherlock's shirt, preventing the Alpha from going anywhere even though John knew that Sherlock didn't want to go anywhere. He buried his face in Sherlock's shoulder, crying until he finally felt he couldn't cry any longer. He was not sure how long passed with him crying but when he lifted his head and saw a decent sized wet patch on Sherlock's shirt, he assumed it must have been quite some time.
He felt better, though. Lighter, in a way. As if the weight of universe had been lifted off his shoulders. Or maybe, he's just sharing any burden with Sherlock and that was why he felt lighter - because he’s got help carrying any problems he may have.
John wasn't sure if he should feel guilty or relieved that Sherlock was supporting him so greatly. Sherlock probably didn't mind but it's not exactly nice to have someone else's problems unloaded on you, no matter how much you love that person... Then again, if Alex or Sherlock wished to unloaded their problems on him, he wouldn't mind. That was probably how Sherlock feels as well…
John looked up and met Sherlock's eyes. He pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, loving that he could do it without any drama, before he spoke. "I'm here for you as well. I know I'm not the only one that's been hurt by all this."
Sherlock continued to rub John’s back in a soothing manner, repeating the same motion over and over again. After all this time, Sherlock thought that he had been the one who had gone through the most pain, but it seemed like they went through equal (or In john’s case, possibly more) pain because John hadn’t just dealt with the lose of his partner, he had been dealing with issues which had probably been installed in him as a child, causing this onslaught of feelings about being an omega in an alpha dominated world.
Sherlock leaned forward, resting his forehead against John’s smooth forehead. Randomly placed light wrinkles were visible to Sherlock and it reminded him that they were no longer young but they were now full of knowledge and experience that the years apart had given them. “I know but we have spent a lot of time sharing feeling and such. I don’t wish to dwell on the past much more tonight.”
John nodded, agreeing. He enjoyed the feeling of Sherlock rubbing his back and he arched into the touch slightly.
"You're right. Let's talk about something else. Or you could kiss me again." John smirked, chuckling softly at himself and laced his fingers with Sherlock's free hand as he once again leaned into Sherlock's hand on his back so he wouldn't move it away.
“I like the kissing idea.” Sherlock muttered, his smile turning into a cheeky smirk as he bent his head forward so that their lips touched in the most gentle of kisses, his eyes closing so that they were just small slits. He opened his mouth in the smallest of ways, his tongue sneaking out to lick John’s top lip, the smooth flesh felt soft underneath his moist tongue as he took in all the details of that luscious mouth.
John gave a soft moan of approval at Sherlock's actions, letting his own eyes drop shut as he returned the pressure of Sherlock's lips. He opened his mouth, welcoming Sherlock's tongue between his lips. John slid his own tongue alongside Sherlock's as he gave himself over to his more primal instincts.
It didn't take long before John grew displeased with the space between them and crawled into Sherlock's lap so he ould feel as much of Sherlock's body heat against him as possible.
Things start to get heated. Hot lips on moist ones. Hands moving, wandering, exploring as they move up and down a changed path, that they are trying to re-discover. Arousal grows painfully behind the confines of their bodies, begging to be let out.“God John.” Sherlock sighed against John’s lips, sounding almost painful. He let his hands rest on John’s firm hips, squeezing them gently as if making sure that the situation was real, that he wasn’t dreaming.
"I know the feeling." John replied, barely separating their lips to say the words.
His arms looped around Sherlock neck as they continued to kiss. John barely hesitated before he pressed his hips down into Sherlock, lightly grinding against the other man.
A quiet “Oh!” spilled out of Sherlock’s lips, his hips automatically lifting up to try and gain that much needed friction again. His inner alpha was on fire, begging for more, able to smell the fertile omega above him which required attention.
But Sherlock’s powerful mind interrupted his inner alpha, understanding that he had to take things slower because John might not want that yet. The movement of John’s hips could have easily been something that he did not mean to do or it could be that John only wanted that; clothed humping on the sofa. No matter what John wanted, however big or small, Sherlock would accept it, his omega’s wellbeing the most prominent thing in his life now.
John could sense Sherlock holding back and hesitating. It put a small smile on his face, pleased that Sherlock was thinking about his needs and wants so much. Not that Sherlock had ever disregarded what he wanted but now he was thinking and considering it all very closely. John loved that.
He grinned widely and kissed Sherlock deeply, grinding against him once again. "I want you, Sherlock. You don't need to hold back." John whispered, gently pressing their lips together. "I want you to make love to me."
“John..” Sherlock whined, John’s words causing his mind to go completely blank with the endless possibilities. But he didn’t want to rush this. They had only just got back together and he didn’t want to ruin that just for one night of sex. He wanted endless nights of sex with John and doing so so soon, might make it impossible.
“We have only just sorted out all this… crap. I don’t want to rush into things and cause any issues so early on. I—I want…. To spent the… the rest of my life with you, John.”
John nodded, feeling guilty. Here he was, over the moon that Sherlock was considering him so much but he was not considering Sherlock's feelings at all. John settled, not moving against Sherlock but still pressed close and holding him.
"Of course, I'm sorry. I didn't think... You're right, we shouldn't rush into anything." John said with a gentle smile. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you as well. You and Alex, that's all that matters now."
Sherlock looked at John face and his brain started to whirl into action, deducing every tiny little movement. John thinks that he doesn’t want to have sex with him… Sherlock quickly spoke up, not wanting his omega to think that because it was simply not true, it was so far from the truth in fact.
“Don’t get me wrong, I do want to do… that with you, John. It’s just that…. I don’t want it to complicate things between us. Last time we rushed into it, we had sex before bonding and marriage and sometimes I think that having sex before bonding could have been the reason why we split up. I had a lot of time to think things through, evaluate every argument, every day we spent together and it’s the only thing that stands out to me (except for all the experiments on the dining room table and the bodies in the fridge but that doesn’t really matter, does it?)”
John smiled a little and cupped Sherlock's face, pressing their foreheads together. "Sherlock, I didn't leave because I thought we rushed into anything but I understand that this is a clean slate. We can do things differently now and if you'd prefer we wait to have sex, that is perfectly fine with me. I'm not looking for some one night stand from you and I'd hate for you to feel like you have to sleep with me." He smiled and stroked Sherlock's cheek before placing a kiss on his lips.
Sherlock blushed slightly. He hated talking about sex, not because he didn’t like it, but because it meant that he had to talk about feelings and emotions…. Which he finds so confusing. Sherlock took a moment to relax and get his breathing back to normal after such an arousing moment between them. “I want to do something but not… I want to be able to build up to it so that we not only know that we don’t make any mistakes, but also so we enjoy it even more.”
John smiled at the sight of Sherlock's blush and at his words. The omega was still pressed close to Sherlock but no longer in a sexual manner... More just a comforting one. John slid his hands down from cupping Sherlock's face to once again having his arms loosely wrapped around Sherlock's neck.
"I have faith in us to not makes mistakes. Well, I'm sure there will be some mistakes but they'll be small ones. We won't separate ever again, Sherlock, I won't allow anything, not even my own insecurities, take me from you... I love you, Sherlock."
“I love you too,” Sherlock whispered, moving to hug John tightly, so that John didn’t see the silent tears fall down his face and simply because he wanted to so badly. It made him feel so much closer to John as his scent flooded his senses and his body heat radiated towards him.After a minute or two of hugging, Sherlock regained his composure and decided what he wanted to do, what he thought will be best for them to do. “I want to touch you… give you pleasure. I want us to start slow and if we feel ready to, then we should have sex.” Sherlock refused to say the phrase ‘make love’ as it sounded so stupid. He loves John, they both know that, he didn’t need to change the phrasing of what they were about to do in order to prove his feelings or make John want to do it (John’s the one telling him to do it after all!)John blushed slightly when Sherlock told him that he wanted to touch him. His fingers stroked Sherlock's neck and he squeezed slightly before speaking.
"I don't want this to be all about me. I want to touch you and make you feel good as well, Sherlock..." He murmured. "I'm happy that you want to make me feel good but don't think that you have to make me happy every single minute of the day... I don't want to be worried that you're scared I'll leave if you don't do want you think I want... And I know none of that's like you but it worries me that we could fall into that kind of one sided relationship..."
Sherlock knew that he would always be worried about John leaving, especially if he did anything to make the omega angry but he would cope with it. He would apoligise, he would even go as far to get down on his knees to beg for forgive but for now he would forget about it. “Touch me then.” Sherlock muttered, smirking at John.
John could see the worry in Sherlock's eyes and he hesitated to take things further. So he returned to cupping Sherlock's face and met his eyes.
"Sherlock... You have to believe me. I'm not going to leave you. Don't look so worried, please. I want you to trust me." John fought to keep the emotion from his voice but he was quick to lose the battle.
“I just… I don’t want it to happen again. That time, that time was so hard for me and I don’t want to go back to that ever again. My emotions have never been this…. Annoying, that’s not a bad thing by the way, it just shows how strongly I feel about you.” Sherlock looked down, not wanting to meet John’s eyes. John would look at him like he was stupid, like he was a freak because he rarely felt any strong connection to anyone.
John took Sherlock's chin gently between his fingers and pushed it up until Sherlock has no choice but to look at his face. At first, it was a bit of a struggle, both of them were terribly stubborn. John won this time, though, and smiled a little when Sherlock finally kept eye contact with him.
"Sherlock, I love you, you idiot, so stop acting like I'm suddenly going to judge every tiny thing, all right? I'm not leaving you ever again and when I did leave before it had very little to do with you, it was my fears of the rest of society that drove me to leave. So stop blaming yourself because it's annoying and pointless." John smiled then, softening his tone. "And don't be ashamed of how strongly you feel about me." He pecked his lips. "I'm proud of how strongly I feel about you and I hope you can be too."Sherlock opened his mouth to speak but promptly closed it again. He didn’t want to speak, they had already done SO much talking and he just wanted to be able to relax in each other’s presence.
So he closed the small gap between their lips, his moist lips gliding over John’s slightly more dry ones, softly locking his lips with John. His hands moved to his hips, remaining there where it is soft and ever so comfortable. Sherlock turned the kiss up a notch on the intensity scale, letting all of his emotions flood into the kiss, drive it on until Sherlock was nipping at john’s upper lip, squeezing his hips, letting his tongue dive into John’s mouth.
John moaned softly when Sherlock starts to really kiss him. He threaded his fingers into Sherlock's curls and tugged gently, never having forgotten how sensitive Sherlock's hair was. He'd play with it often and when Alex was young, he'd play with her hair sometimes to as it reminded him of all the nights where he and Sherlock would simply curl up together and enjoy each others company. Like Sherlock, Alex liked to have her hair played with too. She found it comforting and a simple but effective way to be shown affection.
John gave himself a small shake. Now wasn’t the time to be thinking about his daughter. She was safe with Harry and now it was time for Sherlock and him to reconnect.
John poured himself into kissing Sherlock back, letting all other thoughts drift from his mind. Sherlock was all that matters now. His fingers tightened in Sherlock's soft hair and he moaned into the others mouth, pressing himself closer.
Sherlock felt his arousal grow as John pressed into him, his inner alpha moaning at the contact and smell of his omega, so ripe and fragrant, exactly like he remembered. He tugged him even closer, not wanting another inch between them anymore. His breath started to quicken even more, gulps of air only being able to be taken in few and far between as John’s mouth remained firmly on Sherlock’s a vast majority of the time (not that Sherlock is complaining.)
Sherlock plucked his mouth away from John’s, instead moving down his face, his nose nuzzling the skin until he reached his neck where he buried his nose. The smell there was so intense that Sherlock moaned, the noise vibrating throughout his throat and his face turned into a blissed out expression.
Not long ago Sherlock had thought he would never smell that delightful smell again. It felt like he is in a dream, one of the dreams that he used to detest because they were so perfect and seemed totally real therefore it was awfully painful when he woke up. But now it was real. So real that Sherlock’s mind was buzzing, as if he had just taken cocaine. But this was something more powerful than a drug, something to roll around in and savor. Love. Love between an alpha and omega.
John whimpered and pressed his neck closer to Sherlock, adoring the sounds he was pulling from him. John kissed Sherlock's temple and gently held his head close so the Alpha could enjoy his scent as much as possible.
"No biting. Not yet." John whispered. "Not tonight. We have to make it special." He added, not wanting to seem like he was rejecting Sherlock.
He blushed brightly, rather embarrassed that he had more or less just asked Sherlock to bond with him in the future. He knew Sherlock wanted that too but it was still embarrassing.
“Of course, John. I know exactly what you mean. This isn’t the best time to bond.” Sherlock smiled brightly, placing a small kiss on John’s lips to confirm that he was alright about everything. He was obviously happy about it. He has already told John that he didn’t want to rush into anything, and the way that John said it suggested that he wouldn’t be against it in the future- something that made Sherlock extremely happy.
John smiled back, pleased. He kissed Sherlock again and again and again, not needing to say anything as a reply and just happy to kiss Sherlock.
John hands slid down the front of Sherlock's shirt and he popped the top button, pausing there so he could be told to stop if Sherlock wanted to stop there. He wasn't at all surprised to discover there was no complaint and so as he continued to kiss Sherlock deeply, he unbuttoned the shirt button by button.
When it's gaping opening, revealing Sherlock's beautiful, pale skin, John pulled back to watch his hand run down Sherlock's chest. He then pinched the slight stomach Sherlock has with a grin.
"It's nice to see you're more than skin and bones and brains." He chuckled, kissing Sherlock's jaw, pushing the shirt off and running his hands other Sherlock's muscled arms. "I've always loved your arms." He breathed.
“My arms? You have my whole body to love, and you choose my arms. My favorite part of you definitely isn’t you arms.” Sherlock said cheekily, his hands moving down John’s body to squeeze John’s arse. The firm flesh molded around his hands perfectly, showing how wonderful that part of John’s body really was.
Sherlock took his shirt off his shoulders, not wanting such a flimsy piece of cloth to come between them. He then moved his lips back to John’s for a brief kiss before moving to his ear, where he traced the shell of it, biting the lobe when he reached it.John moaned when Sherlock bit his ear lobe and he panted lightly before replying. "Your arms are lovely. I love them. So strong."
He pushed back into Sherlock's hands, more than happy to have them on his arse. John couldn't help but give a giggle, silencing himself by kissing Sherlock again.
"We should probably move to the bed..." John murmured against Sherlock's lips.
Sherlock smiled and pulled them both up off the sofa, taking John’s hand and leading him through to the bedroom. Once they were in there, he closed the door and pressed John against it, attacking John’s neck again.
“I wouldn’t say that my arms are strong. Scrawny and gaunt. Not strong.”
"I like them." John whispered, voice breathy from arousal at having Sherlock's mouth all over his back.
He ram a hand over Sherlock's shoulder and down, squeezing his upper arm. There's muscle there but it's not so much it's a turn off. Most people would probably say that there's barely anything there, especially considering Sherlock is an Alpha, but John thought it was just perfect. Sherlock had stayed in shape over the years and John loved that. He couldn't say much about himself. He had gotten chubbier but he was not overweight or fat.
“Bed.” Sherlock whispered, holding John’s waist firmly and pulled him over to the bed where he pushed the omega down so that Sherlock hovered over him.
Sherlock then quickly, removed John’s shirt not caring that the buttons were ripped off in some places, all Sherlock cared about was having John naked. Next, he unbuttoned the top button on John’s trousers, looking up at John to make sure that it was ok.
John gave a small squeak when he was suddenly moved to the bed but he didn't mind Sherlock's eagerness. If anything, it just turned him on even more and he nodded with a confidence smile when Sherlock looked up to check.
"I'm all yours."
Sherlock smiled at John before tugging down the zip on his trousers, which allowed him to pull his trousers down to his calves. Then he pressed his mouth against the bulge in John’s pants, breathing in the musky smell of arousal which made his inner alpha wild to the core, needing to feel his omega’s bare skin against his own.
After committing the smell to memory, Sherlock tugged down John’s grey pants, allowing them to rest with the trousers, around John’s calves as it gave him enough room to move, yet didn’t require too much effort.John kicked the trousers and underwear off and, seeing that Sherlock was going a little wild, he sat up and cupped the Alpha's face, meeting his eyes with a soft smile.
"I like that you're eager. I am too but there's no rush. We have plenty of tine and neither of us is going anywhere." He smiled wider and pecked Sherlock's lips. "Take a breathe and calm down a little. There's time for quick sessions but I want this to last. Our first time after all these years..."
“I know, I just…” Sherlock sighed and rested his forehead on John’s thigh. “I haven’t done /this/ for a long time.” Sherlock tried not to look embarrassed, knowing that John had probably engaged in sexual activity plenty of times in the years that they had been apart and he didn’t hold it against him, but it was still embarrassing to know that he was the only one who hadn’t.John ran his fingers through Sherlock's hair as he looked down at the other man.
"It's been awhile for me too. God, probably coming up for a year now." John admitted. "Like I said, I love the eagerness but let's just undress properly and then go from there." He leaned down and kisseed Sherlock's cheek. "Do you have lube and a condom, love?"“Yes I do. Top drawer in the bedside cabinet but I want to suck you first. Can I do that without a condom or… do we need to use one?” Sherlock asked, looking up at John with bright eyes, unable to hide his desire and eagerness. John smiled and leaned up to kiss him gently. "We don't need a condom for that. I haven't got any birth control so we'll need a condom for the main event this time."
He reached over to get the items, placing them on the bed and within reach before he kissed Sherlock again.
Sherlock didn’t mind that they would need to use a condom later on because all he could thing about was John’s moist lips on his own and their bodies in such small proximity to each other after such a long time. It was as if his body was sighing in relief and in doing so, letting out all of the hormones that had been building up inside of him. Sherlock could feel ihs erection straining against his trousers almost painfully as his usually tight trousers, became even tighter.
John couldn't stop smiling and when he pulled back, his hand lowered to Sherlock's crotch, unbuttoning his trousers. "I think it's about time I'm not the only one naked."
John worked with Sherlock to undress him completely. Eagerly, John ran his eyes up and down Sherlock's body. They may be getting older but Sherlock still looked just as gorgeous as when they had first met so many years ago.
"You're so beautiful." John said, breathless just from the sight of Sherlock completely bare and exposed for him.
Sherlock scoffed, knowing for a fact that he was not beautiful. He was old and definitely not as slim as he was 10 years ago and John should be repulsed at what his body had now become. He didn’t trust himself to speak though, too pent up and nervous to trust himself to say something normal in this situation.
All those years ago their sexual relations would be ever so regular, their refractory periods ranging from 5-10 minutes. Now Sherlock could barely get his up a second time. He desperately wanted to suck John off, feel his release in his mouth yet he wasn’t too sure if he could make John cum and then expect John to get hard again afterwards.
"Don't scoff at me. It's the truth. I think that you're gorgeous." John scalded but he was still smiling so he was obviously not that angry. John pecked Sherlock's lips again. "You're absolutely gorgeous."
“You’re the gorgeous one John, with your muscular omega body. Such a turn on.” Sherlock whispered emphasizing his point by grabbing John’s hand and placing it on his erection.
John blushed slightly at Sherlock's action before he smirked and wrapped his hand around Sherlock's erection, beginning to stroke him firmly as he leaned forward to pressed small kisses on Sherlock's jaw.
"Thank you, I'm glad that you think I am." John whispered, his voice taking on a seductive tone. "But you have the same affect on me. You're strong but you're not all muscle-y and I love that. Not to mention your hair which is much more like an angelic Omega's than an Alpha's hair but I adore it." He kissed his jaw again. "Gorgeous."
Sherlock sighed, his eyes closed, his mind caught up with what John’s magic hands were doing to his cock. He loved it when John took control and made him feel so pent up just by the use of his hands. He had always had an authority kink, especially when the authority figure was an omega because it went against everything society told alphas and omegas to be. And Sherlock loved to go against the norms.
He remembered times that he had been home alone, John at work and he had stroked his hard cock just at the thought of John being his captain, telling him how to stroke, where to come. He had even fantasized one time about John roleplaying as a headteacher whilst he was the student in detention getting punished for being a naughty boy. So. God. Damn. hot.
But this time, John’s actions were so simple with only a tiny hint of authority, yet it was driving Sherlock mad with lust.
John chuckled to himself, recognising the look on Sherlock's face. It may be there first time after so long but it was far from their first time and John was well aware of what Sherlock liked. They probably had sex five out of seven days a week when they were together before, finding it hard to keep their hands off each other. Especially after the adrenaline rush of cases. God, that was John's favourite. Coming home and just using all that energy on well and truly exhausting each other.
John kissed Sherlock, his mouth fixing perfectly to his and his tongue sliding effortlessly into the Alpha's mouth. The kiss wasn't rushed but it was passionate and made John's head a little fuzzy with lust. Sherlock had always had a great effect on him.
"I don't want you to come like this. As much as I love getting you off with my hands, I want you inside me tonight." John whispered, looking at Sherlock through his lashes as his hand slowed and then stopped.
Sherlock bit his lower lips, trying to stop the moan from squeezing out of his lips but he was unable to do so, the moan echoing across the almost silent room. Sherlock blushed, his cheeks colouring quickly due to his pale complection yet he wasn’t too embarrassed about that, having done so about a thousand times with John in the past.
Instead he focused on making John moan. He spread his hands down John’s sides, letting them stop on John’s hips, gripping them with slight force. Then he began to slide down the bed a bit, down so that his mouth was close to John’s prick, just close enough to give the head a good working.
"Jesus," John hissed as he let's his head fall back on the pillow. He'd known that Sherlock wanted to give him a blow job but that didn't mean it wasn't breath-taking when he had that hot, wet mouth just on him.
John loved that Sherlock would do this for him. He'd heard that some Alphas are greedy in the bedroom (he'd experienced a few of them himself, in his younger years) and the fact that Sherlock was so different from those Alpha's warmed John's heart. That and it was undoubtedly arousing.
John lifted his head slightly to watch Sherlock, barely aware of the sounds spilling from his mouth as he watched the head of curls bob up and down.
Sherlock looked up through his eyelashes to see John staring down at him, a blissed out expression plastered across his face. He was gorgeous like that, so expressive and loving, exactly how Sherlock loved to think of him. He nearly got too engrossed in watching his beautiful John, forgetting about his omega’s wet cock out, ready for him to suck but remembered suddenly, smirking at John before getting back to work.
He pressed his lips against the head, slowly opening his lips and moving down the shaft as slowly as he could. When he reached about three quarters of the way he had to stop, unable to go any further as he was out of practice (previously he could take all of John’s cock in his mouth, not even gagging once). On the way back up he kept his hot tongue against the underside of John’s cock, making things more interesting.
John swore again as Sherlock got to work, not minding at all that Sherlock wasn't able to take as much as he used to. Alpha's cock are always big and so John can't take all of Sherlock in his mouth and he wouldn't complain about something he knew isn't as easy as all the porn videos make it seem.
He allowed his hips to roll up, moving in time with Sherlock and his eyes stayed on Sherlock for as long as he was able. It wasn't any great length of time before he has to let his head fall back, the pleasure too much for him to focus on anything else.
"Sher-lock." John said, voice breaking as he let out a deep moan. "D-Don't you dare make me c-come." He ordered sternly. Well, as stern as one can be with Sherlock Holmes using that perfect mouth of his to pleasure them. "I want you inside me when I do!" John gasped the words, fingers gripping Sherlock's hair.
Sherlock breath caught in his throat when John said that, extremely aroused at the thought. After such a long time of being apart, Sherlock couldn’t wait to be inside John again. Sherlock took John’s cock out of his mouth with a slight ‘pop’ noise being resonated around the room.
“Now.” Sherlock muttered. “We need to do it now before either one of us comes.”
John nodded and he got the lube, blushing as he spread his legs and lifted his hips before pressing the lube into Sherlock's hand. "I need to be stretched. I'm only leaking a little. It's not close enough to my heat for me to be getting really wet, sorry. I don't want to wait either..."
John kissed him gently before he laid down to present himself for Sherlock's skilled fingers. "And remember," John said, "don't make me come. Not until you're inside of me."
Sherlock smirked, loving the open way in which John was talking, it was…. Sexy coming out of his mouth. Sherlock pressed a chaste kiss to John’s lips before he flipped the lid of the lube and poured a copious amount onto his hand, knowing that you could never use too much lube. He generously plastered john’s cock, balls and perineum with the glistening lube, and slowly started to stroke John’s cock whilst circling his hole with his other hand, wanting this to be as smooth as possible for John. Despite John being an omega, Sherlock was all too aware that it could hurt like hell if they did this wrong, mainly because John wasn’t in heat therefore he wasn’t prepared for such an intrusion so he wanted to be as gentle as possible.
John laid back and spread his legs as much as he could for Sherlock, moaning softly as the Alpha's hands start to pleasure him. Small gasps occasionally escaped his mouth and before he even knew it, he was pushing himself back into Sherlock's touch.
His mind was racing with ideas of what was to come. John moaned Sherlock's name as he pressed back again. "More, please."
At John’s request, Sherlock added another finger, sliding it inside of him with only a small amount of tension however soon enough, both fingers are easily working inside of him. Sherlock watched John carefully, reading his body language so John didn’t even have to ask for more because Sherlock had ready done so. Once four fingers were easily able to fit inside of John’s hole, Sherlock deemed that adequate enough and removed them gently.
John let out a whine, that in any other situation he would deny making, feeling suddenly empty without Sherlock's skilled fingers working inside of him. He did smile slightly as he realised what the removal of Sherlock's finger meant. He was ready for Sherlock now, stretched and prepared enough that Sherlock was happy. Sometimes, Sherlock used to spent too long on the preparation process and while John found it annoyed, he had also pleased by it. It made him happy to know that his mate wanted to make him feel good and cared so much that he was extra careful not to cause any harm.
Before Sherlock could do anything else, John tugged him down by his neck and kissed him deeply. "I love you." He gasped.
“I love you too.” Sherlock muttered, unable to take his eyes off of John’s. He never really understood why people wanted to be in love until he met John. He hated love when John left. But now, now he adored it, cherished it with every atom of his being, because without John he was a much weaker, pathetic version of his self. With John he actually lived.
Sherlock grabbed the condom from the bedside table and ripped it open with his teeth, taking the fragile material out of the packaging before rolling it down his length, happy to get some friction. He got so caught up in the movement, that he continued to stroke himself 3 more times, only realizing what he was doing when he heard he heard a sign come out of john’s lips.
John couldn't stop himself from sighing happily at the sight of Sherlock enjoying himself. He leaned up and kisseed him again before removing Sherlock's hand and guiding the Alpha closer to him, wrapping his legs around his waist and tugging him slightly, moaning when his erection brushed against him.
"Come on, Sherlock, I'm growing impatient." John teased lightly, breathing the words as lust filled him - the heat of Sherlock's cock distracting him.
Sherlock smiled at John before pushing in, his thighs tensing with the slow movement and his left hand gripping on John’s hip as his right keeps his cock in position. The feeling brought back so many memories that Sherlock sighed, his alpha completely content with life in that one moment. He watched John’s face before he moved, making sure that his partner was fine for him to continue and although he no longer looked as happy as before, his cock was nearly flaccid and his hands were gripping onto the bed sheet, Sherlock knew that he needs to continue because this is only the initial ‘fuck this is a weird feeling’ and that things get a LOT better. Anyway, John would tell him to stop of he didn’t feel comfortable.
So, Sherlock repositioned himself, leaning over John’s body so their heads were facing each other and he was practically on his hands and knees. Then he really started, his hips starting to move at a steady pace and his balls slapping against John’s wet skin (John’s lubed hole and perineum.)
John only gasped and moaned softly as Sherlock started to make his way in. It's strange. John had slept with a few of his boyfriend's and girlfriend's over the years but it had been a long time - and it had been an even longer time since John had been with an Alpha. He'd almost forgotten just how big Alpha's are, how big Sherlock was. John breathed deeply and tried to smile up at Sherlock but soon it started to feel better and he began to moan again.
From somewhere, John summoned the energy to lift his arms and wrap them around Sherlock's neck. He tugged the man closer and kissed him.
"I love you." John whispered. "So much."
“Same…” Sherlock gasped, biting back a moan that threatened to overwhelm him. He was already so close, he could feel it bubbling inside of him like a ferocious mountain yet he wanted to stop it, hold it back for a while longer, let both of them enjoy this for a few more minutes. He tried, he really tried to hold back but he was unable to, his alpha side wanting to get a bit of attention after such a long dormancy cycle. “John, I’m close. I’m sorry.” Sherlock muttered the last bit very so quietly, not wanting to admit defeat in such an intimate area of life.
John laughed and shook his head, hands cupping Sherlock's face. He pressed a soft kiss to his lip, humming in delight at all the sensations.
"Don't be sorry, you idiot. Being sorry for that is silly. I'm happy that I have such an affect on you. It's a compliment, if anything." He smiled. "And I'm close too." He whispered, another moan slipping past his lips. "Come if you need to, Sherlock. I love you and I want you to feel good to. Take what you need. This isn't just about me." John was panting softly as he spoke, his arousal peeking higher and higher. Bubbling up faster and faster, like a kettle on the brink of boiling. "God." The omega gasped, pushing back against the other man.
Sherlock closed his eyes and focused on the pleasure building up inside him, only opening his eyes to wrap his hand around John’s cock stroking it as he thrusted. His orgasm was intense and hits him suddenly, causing him to moan and shake with the sheer pleasure of it. This was what his alpha side had wanted for years and when it finally got what it wanted, it does so in a spectacular manner.
Sherlock was unsure of what happened next, the pleasure blinding him for approximately 2 minutes but he awakens, clear minded (the most he has felt in a very long time) and relaxed, looking at John’s beautiful face.
John came before the Alpha but he didn't think that Sherlock noticed. He didn't mind though. After spilling between them and mewling in delight, John stroked Sherlock skin with his finger- tip as he sunk into the bed. John moaned again when Sherlock came, regretting that he hadn't taken any birth control and therefore there was a condom separating them. John held Sherlock when the man fell asleep, smiling and kissing his forehead.
"I love you so much." He whispered, falling asleep himself before Sherlock awoke again. |
People would probably never take you for a particularly creative individual if they didn’t know you very well, but contrary to what your generally unlikeable demeanor may allude to others, you’d actually consider yourself artistic. In your own backwards and weird kind of way.
You can’t draw for shit – with the exception of charts or diagrams, because those are mostly straight, orderly lines; Dave is worse, though, especially since he insists on covering your hard work with crude scrawlings of human dicks, fucking douche – and you’ve never cared to venture into any mediums in the same ballpark. You’d like to think that you’re a pretty decent writer, though, and nothing you’ve ever actually physically built, whether over a template or from the ground up, has fallen apart on you before.
Writing, building, and fighting. This could technically make you useful, right? Whatever.
Dealing with a break-up in any capacity is shitty. You have learned and studied this from your books and your movies. The closest you’ve ever been to experiencing the unique sort of heartache that comes along with a severed relationship was when Terezi basically got sick and tired of your wishy-washy bullshit, and that hadn’t even technically been an official break-up because you were never fucking together to begin with. Aaaall thanks to you, by the way.
So this is your first time. Your first big severance. This is everything that you’d watched or read about with the removal of cinematic cheesiness and falsified emotions. You have gotten to feel everything first-hand, now, and frankly it’s fucking terrible.
The worst part is how alone you feel. Who the fuck can you even talk to? Kanaya and Terezi have their own personal biases on Gamzee now, so you’ll be damned if you even consider leaning on either of them for any semblance of comfort. Especially not Terezi, that relationship is too new and way too complicated to touch.
In addition to that, none of the humans get pale relationships and none of them could possibly fucking understand the tiny, delicate little differences between ending a friendship with a best friend and breaking up with one. Friendships are not technically romances in their culture, so no, fuck that, you’ve explained it too many goddamn times and you are not willing to go at it again when you feel like the entire universe just took a gigantic shit right on top of you.
The only one you really want to see right now is Dave, but at the same time also you sort of want to keep your distance for a little while. Dave is a generally nice guy, you suppose (if you can get around the immaturity, the ignorance, the stupidity, etc.) but he’s also kind of a loose cannon when it comes to emotions. Extremely hot and cold. One minute he’s sympathetic and playing the role of a fantastic listener. The next, he’s taking advantage of the tiny chink in your armour, loudly and brashly exposing it in a way that you’re sure he thinks is funny but only makes you fucking defensive and insecure. There may be people out there somewhere who genuinely don’t give a fuck about being made fun of. You’re not one of them.
That said, you’re depressed and you want to make something. Building shit usually makes you feel better.
You wait around in your room for a little while after you wake up, just in case Dave is planning on coming by. After about an hour of nothing, you figure he’s either still asleep or dealing with his own bullshit right now, get dressed, and head to the only place that you’re sure you’ll find some materials, specifically for something small.
The only one you’re expecting to see around right now is predictably there when you round the corner from the kitchen. You’re not quite sure what he does with himself a lot of the time – it’s hard to sneak up on him because it’s like the moment he hears footsteps, he immediately stops whatever he’s doing. Every single damn time you’ve bothered to come by Can Town, you’re greeted with the exact same image: a fucking disaster area of cans and chalk and the Mayor standing somewhere in the midst of it all, fully facing the corner with his fingers steepled in front of him expectantly.
You realize as you stop at the entrance of the room and see him standing there, watching you, that you still aren’t sure how the fuck to confront him face-to-face without someone else there.
There’s a long, long moment of silent staring from the both of you.
“Hi,” you offer, finally.
He lifts one of his hands and waggles his fingers at you in greeting.
“Um. I need a few things.”
He blinks at you and takes a quick glance around himself.
“Not cans,” you clarify.
He stops looking around. His hands go back to their original steepling position.
“I’m trying to build something. Something small. I need…” You form your own hands into cups and place one over the other, making an oval kind of shape with your fingers. “…plastic or something, in this kind of shape. And maybe…” You create a small measurement of space between your index finger and thumb. “…a few more like this length?” Holy fuck you sound so stupid. “And, uh. Paint maybe.”
The Mayor blinks at you again. You’re trying very, very hard not to feel uncomfortably awkward and it’s not really working. His fingers tap together a few times. You are guessing that this is the way he thinks because he can’t make idle noises with his mouth. Does he even have a mouth? You don’t fucking know. Carapacians, right?
He finally turns away from you to look around the room behind him. You slump against the doorframe while his back is to you and let out a long breath because you always go into these rare moments thinking that conversing with someone who doesn’t fucking talk back is going to be a breeze, never remembering just how hard it actually is trying to squeeze a discussion out of incredibly limited facial expressions (does he even have a whole face though) and gestures.
You watch as he wanders around Can Town, gingerly stepping over buildings and scrawled streets, craning his neck around to presumably see if any of the debris littering the town itself and the room in general would compare to what you’ve described to him. That’s what you’re hoping he’s doing, at least.
He winds up actually scouring that fucking room for you, to your surprise, and after he’s meticulously checked from one end of Can Town to the other and back, he comes back with only a handful of slightly rounded plastic pieces that really won’t do you any good at all.
He seems a little distressed as he holds them out to you.
You take them to inspect and no, they will not be helpful. One is too small, one is cracked, and the others aren’t quite round enough, too flat to fit over the base that you plan on working off of. You don’t want to tell him this because the maybe-look on his almost-face is sorta-sad.
“Thhhaanks,” you say slowly and stiffly. “These might work for some of it.”
He seems eased and placated by that. You sigh and pop the plastic bits up into your sylladex where you will undoubtedly forget out them and then find them again a long time from now and be incredibly confused as to where they came from and why the fuck they were in there.
“Now I need to figure out the main material,” you mumble, eyes scanning across the room even though the Mayor already looked for you. “I want it to be sturdy. Something that won’t break apart if I drop it, and protect something delicate. Delicate like circuit boards.”
The two of you lapse into useless silence again as you try to think, and you come very close to just giving the fuck up and going back to your room to hide under the blankets on your couch like a sad fucking blob but the Mayor starts waving his arms to get your attention.
You look at him as he’s reaching out for your wrist. He grabs hold of it and drags you back into the kitchen. You’re not even sure how to resist properly; it’s almost like dealing with a wriggler.
He takes you to the table Rose set up for her alchemy and reaches across it to grab the long-neck gas lighter that you’ve seen her use to expedite boiling in passing before. He holds it up and clicks the trigger. The flame it produces is fucking huge.
Your eyes move from the flame to him.
He just stands there, waiting for you to get it.
But you don’t fucking get it. You shrug a little at him to get this across to him.
His posture deflates slightly. He removes his finger from the trigger to snuff out the flame before shoving the lighter into your hand and dragging you back into Can Town.
Maybe you should have just hung out with Dave instead. Gritting your teeth and putting up with potential idiocy with the possible reward of sex or makeouts or whatever understandably seems a lot better than being a fucking yoyo with the Mayor.
Somehow you manage to get around Can Town without kicking it apart or tripping over something and fucking hurting yourself. The Mayor takes you toward the back of the room, up to the old, dusty computer screens lining a part of the wall.
He points at the lighter, and then at the screens. You could swear that he’s fucking beaming, somehow.
“…what?” you finally ask, because fuck your pride, you’re confused and losing your patience a little.
He takes the lighter from you, presses the trigger, and gestures it wildly at the screens. You take a small step back because the little psycho is fucking waving fire around.
“You want me to light these computers on fire?”
The Mayor rolls his goddamn eyes (oh god, this has officially reached way new levels of ridiculous if this asshole is the one calling YOU fucking stupid) and jabs a finger at you.
“You want me to light me on fire?” What the actual shitting fuck.
The flame disappears from the tip of the lighter and he lowers it, staring at you flatly.
You huff irritably. “Light my OWN computer on fire? I don’t fucking know what you’re telling me to do, give me a goddamn break.”
But he perks up, suddenly, and starts nodding.
You squint at him. “…wait, was that right? You’re telling me to light my husktop on fire?”
He nods with even more enthusiasm.
Fucking whack-job, this guy. No wonder he and Dave get along so well.
“What.. the hell good is that going to do me at all? I want to build something and you’re telling me to take a lighter to a broken computer?”
He gives you a thumbs-up.
What is that supposed to mean.
What is that supposed to fucking mean.
“Mayor, nothing is even going to happen. It will make a tiny bonfire. It will probably smell terrible because of the burning plastic. And it will leave me nothing with a fucking melted mess to clean up aft… er… wards…”
Something dawns on you.
It must show on your face because the Mayor puffs out his chest proudly.
“Plastic,” you say, and almost smack yourself across your own fucking face. “That thing is a heap of scrap right now. Scrap plastic. Plastic can bend with enough heat.”
The Mayor is practically shedding a tear of happiness.
You turn on your heel to leave, but stop just before the edge of Can Town when you realize that the Mayor is excitedly following you.
You look back at him over your shoulder. He stares back. He lifts his hand and waves at you again.
“…are you coming with me?” you ask.
He nods, a bit questioningly this time.
You look at him for a longer minute. He did come up with the idea. And maybe having someone around will do your mind some good. Keep you distracted.
- - -
It definitely keeps you distracted.
You had no idea previously how awesome it actually is to have the Mayor around, especially when you’re in a bad mood. He possesses endless enthusiasm, he’s completely agreeable, and he doesn’t fucking talk. You wind up having to explain why you made your communicators and how it was done (without specifics, of course; Sollux didn’t bother to explain anything to you while he was rudely possessing your body and using your eyes) but all he can do is nod in understanding, regardless of whether he actually understands or not, because he can’t ask five thousand annoying fucking questions that you probably can’t answer a majority of, anyway.
Having the extra pair of hands is extremely helpful, too. You would most likely pitch yourself into a fit if you had to work on this for too long by yourself, considering there is a lot of cutting and sawing that needs to get done, since you're taking bigger pieces down to smaller ones very gradually. He holds, you cut, and he watches you and what you’re doing with rapt fascination. It feels really good to be looked up to for a fucking change.
You also reflect that his idea was actually legitimately pretty brilliant. The inner workings of the communicator were derived mostly from your husktop, so it makes sense that the outer shell will be, too. And you’ve decided that you’re going to make the fucking thing look like a crab, because you have the freedom to make it look however you see fit and you damn well want it to be a crab. It’s your head-nod, a weird, stupid way for your Lusus to kind of be there with you when you finally reach the end of the game.
You find yourself openly explaining all of this to the Mayor without really meaning to, and unlike some other jerks that you know, he doesn’t tease you for the temporary sentimentality. He just reacts with what little of his face you can see and for some reason that helps you more than words probably could, at this point.
Just as you finish cutting down the last piece of plastic to the size that you need, the communicator crackles to life in a sharp hiss of static on the desk next to you. The Mayor jumps back a fucking foot and you snort at him.
“Hey buddy,” comes Dave’s tinny, grainy voice.
“Hey yourself,” you mutter back, picking off jagged hangnails of extra plastic around the exterior of your cut pieces.
“What’re you wearing.”
“Skin,” you reply, unamused, eyes lifting to the Mayor who is now trying not to look at you.
“Oooh, nice, that's my favourite.”
“Someone else’s skin.”
“Ew.”
“I have the Mayor with me,” you inform him cooly. “I’m working on something for these devices. He’s helping me out.”
“Oh my god, seriously?” He sounds surprised. And happy. Weirdly happy. “You guys are actually hanging out?”
You shoot a pointless glare at the communicator as you pluck the lighter off of the table. “Is it so surprising to you that someone wants to hang out with me?”
“No man, no way, that’s not what I meant. I’m thrilled ‘cause this means my ho and my bro are being friends and shit.”
You glance at the Mayor again. He’s nodding happily.
Dave tacks on, “It must be precious, fuck, please tell me I can swing by and hang out too.”
You roll your eyes, dragging on an old pair of gloves that you’ve had hanging around on your work desk since you started this stupid project. They aren’t fire resistant but they’re at least some sort of protection for your hands against hot plastic. “A,” you reply. “I’m not your fucking ‘ho’ so if you ever plan on using your genitals for anything again, you’ll think of something else to call me. And B, whatever, the Mayor is nodding so hard his head is going to fucking fall off, so I guess it’s fine if you come by.”
“Aw, nice, I owe that guy a fuckin’ fist bump.”
The Mayor does a little hop in place.
You’re surrounded.
“Just don’t talk,” you instruct him. “I’m trying to concentrate and I’ll kick you out real fucking fast if you start to get on my nerves.”
“Uh huh,” he drawls before the communicator goes dark again. His tone suggests that he is way too used to you now. The thought annoys and warms you at the same time.
He's there within minutes, just as you're about to start heating your materials, walking right in like it's his room, too, like always. It doesn't bother you as much now as it did before. You turn to look at him and he's gloriously mussed, possibly having just woken up from the latest dream bubble excursion, wearing rumpled, comfortable clothing and moving with sleep-sluggish legs.
Predictably, he leans across the tabletop to give the Mayor his expected fist bump greeting (the Mayor had his fucking hand out and ready even before Dave was fully in the room) and then hoists himself onto your desk next to you, flicking you a mock salute. "Sup."
You turn back to your work because he's good looking and that's A Problem for you right now. "Nothing."
"Tried to find you for like, ever in that bubble, dude, where the hell were you?"
"Probably started out on the complete opposite side as you." You bend a piece of your plastic between your fingers, texting the elasticity of it. Surprisingly flexible, considering how durable the stuff is.
"Yeah, probably," he agrees. His legs swing slowly; you can see the movement out of the corner of your eye. "Did anything go down? Gotta tell you that was one of the most boring fucking bubbles I've ever been in. I was dropping my ebubbles all over the fucking place for fun and even that got old real fast."
"And Rose said it would be important," you gripe, effectively avoiding having to answer his question because you don't want to talk about it right now.
"I bet it was, somehow. Maybe we just missed it. I know I was too busy goofing off so." He shrugs casually. "Oh well."
"Yep," you agree, clicking the lighter's trigger. "Oh well."
You edge the flame underneath your plastic and hold it there, moving the piece slowly back and forth over it to ensure that the entire thing is covered. Dave drops the dream bubble conversation for the time being and turns his attention to the Mayor, striking up a one-sided conversation with him that you don't pay attention to.
Fortunately, the plastic does exactly what you were hoping it would. It's not thermoplastic so it's not necessarily an easy endeavor, but you came into this knowing that you would need patience, and you figure you may as well use up your week's quota just on this project alone. After a couple of heating sessions and a good deal of force, even for something small, you manage to shape your first piece of plastic into the rounded dome that you want.
Such a small feat, but you feel pretty fucking proud of yourself regardless.
You're thankful that you brought the Mayor with you because he does a fucking fantastic job keeping Dave totally occupied. You only need about half an hour, maybe a little more, but they actually listen to you for a goddamn change and leave you alone until every piece you have is formed the right way. It looks like a tiny heap of randomly-shaped purple garbage right now, but you have everything mapped out in your head and all you need now is glue.
You stand up and stretch, drawing attention to you, and you wave your hand dismissively. "Ignore me, I'm still working."
"What are you making, exactly?" Dave asks from his newly-found place on your couch.
You cross the room to your toolbox and bend down to rifle through it. "A cover for my communicator. Leaving all of the wires and shit out in the open is just asking for it to break too soon."
"You gonna make one for mine, too?"
You find your tube of industrial-grade glue and grab it, scoffing haughtily as you rise back to your feet. "Hell no, I'm not making yours. Make your own."
He turns his attention to the Mayor, gesturing in your direction. "You see this? I give all my love in the world to this guy and this is what I get back."
Ah.
Well.
You sit down and avert your attention from them entirely. Your room suddenly becomes far too warm.
That sure isn't a word that you've been at all expecting.
Best not to think on that one too much. |
You wake up some time in the night and see infomercials playing on the TV. You’re still sleeping across the end of the bed, but now Sebastian has worked his way up and curled himself around you. Still groggy, you turn towards him and snuggle into the heat of his chest, warding off the air-conditioned chill of the hotel room.
You hear him inhale sharply, like he’s just woken up. His arms tighten around you.
“You ok, baby?”
You can tell he’s still half asleep, that endearment isn’t standard for him.
“Cold.” You say, and you can’t resist snuggling into him a little tighter.
“Hmm…” he says, and then he rises, pulling you with him so you both crawl up the bed and climb under the covers. Seb gets back up to flick off the invasive light of the TV. You sigh out in contentment, the bed is so warm and fluffy…
Sebastian crawls back up the bed and pulls you towards him, wrapping a leg around you and sneaking an arm around your torso, nuzzling under your ear with his nose. “Warm enough?”
You had been perfectly content to go back to sleep, but now you’re beginning to feel a little hot under the collar. You clear your throat and try to relax into his embrace, but you can’t help popping off with a sarcastic comment.
“What, I’m your body pillow now?” It’s said in a low murmur that ends up sounding a little huskier than you’d intended.
Seb nuzzles his nose under your ear again and you can feel him smile, “Mm-hmm. Best body pillow.”
Your face burns in the darkness and you turn your head away from him so he can’t sense your own smile, but that move backfires because now he’s nuzzling at the nape of your neck. Goosebumps rise all over your body as you jerk against him ever so slightly. Emboldened, you feel him place gentle kisses on your neck as his arms wrap you tighter against him. Your hips seem to move of their own accord and your legs tangle with his as he shifts around you.
It goes like this for a little while, neither of you speaking, just gently rocking against each other under the covers, Seb’s lips occasionally brushing against a tender point at your neck or behind your ear. You can feel that he’s pressing you tighter and tighter to him as his hands begin to roam. Both of you start breathing harder and you bite your lip as Seb presses up behind you so you feel his hardened length at your back.
Your breath catches on a little sigh of pleasure and that seems to set Seb off. His hand goes to your hip under the covers and he grinds up as he presses your ass down on his erection. You groan into your pillow as you press yourself against the mattress, arching your back as he grinds into you again. You’re spooning and dry humping and your breathing is getting more and more labored and you’re just beginning to sweat when he flings back the covers and rolls, bracing himself on his elbows above you.
The cool blast of air is a welcome relief after all that under cover friction and Sebastian helps you as you move to shrug out of your hoodie. He seems surprised, however, when you arch your back to pull your sleep shirt off as well. He sucks in a breath as he runs his hands up your sides before palming your breasts, running his thumbs over your hardened peaks as you bite your lip and fight not to moan, panting out breathy little kitten mewls instead.
“Oh fuck…” you hear him breathe your name quietly, and you roll your hips up to grind against him again.
Suddenly you’re yanked further down the bed and he’s covering you, grinding into you as his lips press against yours, not bothering to hold back his moans as you run your hands up and down his back, slowly bunching his shirt up so you can reach the heated skin below. You’re so wet you can tell you’ve soaked through your little sleep shorts. You wonder if he can feel you soaking through the crotch of his sweatpants the way you can feel the hard ridge of his cock every time he presses against you.
He’s ravishing your mouth, your neck, your throat, and you’re gently panting, murmuring his name, murmuring words of encouragement. Your hands slide down and you slip your shorts off, kicking them down your legs and under the covers. His hand is between your thighs like lightening, stroking your folds and preparing to slip into you, but you surprise him again when you pull his arm away and then roll over to straddle him.
“Shirt.” You order, pushing the hem up until he takes it and whips it off, eyebrow raised at the turn of events.
You lean down and kiss a wet trail across his abdomen, up over his chest, ghosting your lips back and forth over his collarbone before you’re hovering over him, on all fours, your mouth stilled just above his. “Pants.”
You’ve never seen a man move so fast. His sweatpants are off and he’s gripping you by the hips in no time, but you take a moment to pull back and sit on his thighs, taking him in through the light filtering through the hotel windows.
His abs are just as insane as you’d expected, but it’s somehow better to see them flexing under his labored breathing as he looks at you through lust-hooded eyes. His lips are swollen from kissing you. Your eyes trail down his body, taking in his cock, and you reach out to stroke it softly. He sighs and closes his eyes, dropping his head back on his pillow. Your feather-light touches after the rough humping against the fabric of his sweatpants are driving him crazy.
“God, you’re fuckin’ amazing…” he breathes.
“Oh, you say that to all the girls.” You tease, still whispering.
“No, no, no…” he gasps as you give his tip a little lick, “You could straight up be plannin' to murder me after this and I wouldn’t mind. I’d die happy.”
You let out a low laugh and his hips jolt as you swirl your tongue around him, bobbing your head as you slowly take him into your mouth, humming. He fights not to buck up as you lower onto him bit by bit, letting your saliva work up so you can glide smoothly along his shaft. You hum occasionally and he groans. Once you’ve worked him up properly you increase the tempo and incorporate some sucking, popping him in and out of your mouth, running your tongue down his shaft, massaging his balls and moaning onto his cock with satisfaction at every stuttered breath you draw from him.
And then you’re done. You sit up and shift forward to slide your slick against his shaft, hands on his chest, a wicked smile on your face as you roll your hips back and forth against him and bite your lip.
“Fuck…you ARE tryin’ to kill me…” he breathes, gripping your ass and grinding you against him harder.
“Well you said you wouldn’t mind…” your laugh is a little growl, and then you squeal as he suddenly lunges, pushing you onto your back and looking down into your face with a slightly menacing grin.
“My turn…” he breathes, his voice low and rasping as he moves his face into your neck and skims his lips down your collarbone, biting gently when he gets to your shoulder. You shudder with pleasure and wonder what else you can get him to bite. You hum, lost in how fucking hot it is to have your legs wrapped around Sebastian’s narrow hips while his wide, hulking shoulders hover over you and his soft lips suck their way along your other collarbone.
He works his way down your body and takes a nipple into his mouth. You arch against him, pleasure shuddering along your nerves as he licks and sucks and…
“Ohhhh…” you moan. He bites again. Does he know you have a biting kink? If he didn’t before, he’s just figured it out. He moves to your other breast and sucks hard, biting again as you writhe beneath him, moaning and arching your back, silently begging him to give you more.
He complies, lavishing your breasts with exquisite attention as you buck your hips against him and gently dig you nails into his back, trying not to leave marks.
He continues kissing his way down your body and you’re almost embarrassed at how wet you are when he skims his lips over yours, flicking out his tongue to taste you. Apparently he likes what he finds, because you feel his palms spread your thighs further apart, so they’re almost touching the bed, and then he spreads you with his thumbs and dips his tongue further into you, licking and sucking his way up to your clit. You’re so oversensitive at this point that you cry out in surprise when he flattens his tongue and presses hard against your nub before flexing his tongue into a point and swirling it around, causing you to buck up and scream.
“Oh my GOD, Sebastian…” you’re pulling on his hair and you don’t even notice, his mouth is digging into you and the sounds are obscene. He’s sealed his lips around your most tender area and you don’t even have time to tell him you’re coming before your muscles seize and your back is arching almost painfully, suspended as waves of pleasure wash over you.
Sebastian wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and crawls up your limp body, looking pleased with himself.
“Fuck…” you say, still feeling a faint pulsing in your insides, “that was amazing.”
“Glad you liked it, but I’m not done with you yet.” Sebastian bites your shoulder and you roll your head to face him, regarding him through heavy-lidded eyes.
“Well now you’re the one trying to kill me.” You drawl, even as that little pulse inside you flares back to life.
Something between a laugh and a growl emerges from Sebastian’s chest as he arranges your spent limbs around him, lining himself up with your entrance. You manage to wrap your arms around his neck as he leans down to place a gentle kiss on your lips before brushing his mouth across your ear.
“You ready?” he breathes.
You reach up to nip playful little bites along his jawline. “Don’t. Ask. Silly. Questions.”
You feel him smile against your skin as he slides into you but his smile quickly transforms into an exquisitely pained expression as he releases a deep, guttural groan at the feel of you.
The sensation is heavenly, and you’re so tight from your recent orgasm that your eyes widen at how close you feel to another one. You try to relax as you grip around him, focusing on the feeling of him filling you, pumping in and out, but before you know it your hips are bucking and that shuddering feeling has overtaken you again.
“OH, FUCK…” Sebastian’s voice sounds strained as he feels you contract around him, and there’s a high pitched noise that you realize is coming from you as your second orgasm hits.
You continue to pump your hips as the waves subside, wanting to help him finish, wanting to make him feel as good as he’s made you feel. You’re absolutely stunned when you feel pressure tensing up inside you again as Sebastian drives into you, hips snapping, pounding you into the mattress.
“Do you…wanna…change…positions?” you breathe out, willing to do anything to make him come.
“Nm-mmm. Like this.” You’re splayed out underneath him as he pounds into you balls deep. You’re both slick with sweat and you’re starting to shake as you feel that coil inside you start to unravel again.
“Oh fuck, I’m going to come again, Sebastian…I can’t…” you’re breathless and spent and you feel so tightly wound inside you don’t know what will happen if he brings you to orgasm again.
He’s pistoning into you at a brutal pace, head buried in your neck, trapping your arms at your sides with his elbows. You’re helpless under his assault and climbing quickly towards your edge when he suddenly slows down and drives into you with fierce, deep thrusts as he whispers into your ear.
“Come with me.”
You explode along with him, tears running down your face as your third orgasm washes over you almost painfully. You’ve never understood the expression “seeing stars”, but you think maybe now you get it because you’re pretty sure you black out for a second, without ever actually losing consciousness.
You become aware that Sebastian is kissing all over your face, murmuring assurances as he wipes the tears streaming into your hair, whispering your name like a prayer.
“M’okay…” you say thickly, “gimme minute.” Your breath hitches in your chest as you try to get your breathing back to normal and Sebastian continues his ministrations, bracing himself on his elbows above you to give your lungs room to breathe but keeping his hands close enough to keep running along your face, tracing the soothing pads of his thumbs over your eyebrows, across your bottom lip, letting his long fingers trace gentle circles at your temples.
After a few moments you open your eyes and meet his concerned blue gaze.
“You think Mackie would approve?” you smile weakly.
Sebastian laughs, the full-throated sound reverberating around the room. “Oh yeah.” |
==>Be Jade Harley
The morning of the day of your big trip halfway across the world to rejoin your friends does not start well. Twelve stitches and lots of gauze are not a good way to start any day, really. Even if it had been an accident.
You know Tavros didn't mean it. He'd never hurt you on purpose, but accident or not you don't argue with Grandpa when he tells you that you're not allowed to wake the trolls up anymore. He needed even more bandages than you did after Sollux had bit him when he'd come to rescue you.You feel very stupid for needing a rescue in the first place, but you couldn't help it. They'd all been growling and twitching in their sleep and you thought it was a bad nightmare. (You almost never had nightmares growing up but sometimes you'd be trapped in sleep paralysis and that was scary so you thought waking everyone up right away was the best idea.)
Well, you know better now and it doesn't hurt so much. Really the worst part is how angry Sollux is and how embarrassed Tavros is, but you know they'll get over it soon enough. Today is too exciting to worry about claw marks anyway! (And if the trolls complain too much you'll beat them up until they behave. Dave's already told you that's a pretty good plan.)
You've never left your island except when you'd entered the game and it's exciting and scary both at once, a bubble in your stomach like butterflies are dancing inside there and you have to explain to Tavros that you didn't eat any, they just sort of appeared (a little like magic) and they'll disappear the same way.
Grandpa has been working very, very hard to get everyone together. He opened his office back up and cleaned out all the dust and the family of flying foxes and it was almost like before, once you'd moved his old computer back and sheepishly changed the desktop wallpaper to one of his old hunting photos instead of your favourite squiddles fanart. Grandpa had patted your head and called you his little lady just like he always had in your imaginings and had spent hours and hours on the computer and the phone making arrangements.
Most of the time he was yelling. That was normal too. It was nice having him back after being gone so long. Now you didn't have to imagine that you can hear his cursing all the way through the house, because all you had to do was listen. He was even better at cursing now than you remembered, or maybe being dead made him better at cursing for when he came alive again. Though when you think about it Jadesprite hadn't been good at cursing at all when you’d resurrected her, so that might be a causation-correlation thing.
Since Grandpa was looking after the plans for everyone you looked after the house and island, just like you always did. After all, it wasn't like it was going to look after itself.
Usually, you wake up when the sun rises (if you haven’t fallen asleep only an hour or two before) and you haven't had your sleep trouble since your dreamself died, so it's nice to be able to get up and get lots of work done. You start on your garden first, making sure everything will be okay if you're gone for a while. It all should be: you made automatic watering programs and fertilizers and temperature controls for the greenhouse because sometimes you'd sleep for a day or two and miss your work. Sometimes you'd get hurt or sick and you'd not be able to do your work 'til you got better. The computers will manage things for you if you tell them to.
Then you check the island. This takes a lot more time than it used to because before you could count on Bec to teleport you home when you got tired. You miss him terribly, though not enough to want him back if it meant Jack had come with him. It was better to have no Bec and no Jack than have Bec and be fighting for your life again. It wasn't any fun the last time; it would have really fucking sucked if you were still fighting now.
Still, you miss him. You'd even gone and explored the temple in the hopes that he would find you and teleport you away, but all you found were empty stone walls and no best friend and you had to climb out again, disappointed and dirty. You tried not to let the others see that you were upset. They didn't understand how good a friend Bec was. The best. Your first too. So even though you have lots of friends now none of them are quite like Bec.
Tavros asked you yesterday what you were checking your island for and hadn't understood when you'd said changes. Of course, he was a troll and not a human girl and he hadn't lived on an island his whole life. He didn't know how important it was to note all the changes, watch the patterns and see if they shifted. The birds and fish were harbingers of the big storms, the bugs of the coming rain. The tidepools told you the seasons and the plants warned you of poison in the ground from the volcano. Lots of times you'd explore and find nothing different, but that didn't matter: the important part was checking to be sure.
You make it a short trip this time because you're leaving soon. You don't say goodbye to your house or your room or your swimming spot or the beach because you know you'll be back and besides they don't need goodbyes. You would have wished your animal friends goodbye if you had any, but Bec always chased them off. (That's why you can't be girl Tarzan, you explained to Dave once. Because you'd have to have a lot more cool animal friends who talked to you than just an awesome but jealous dog. He told you that if it walked like a goat and looked like a goat and sounded like a cat it was probably still a goat, though almost definitely one destined for YouTube. It was so ironic you still aren't sure what he meant.)
When you get back to the house, Grandpa is waiting impatiently by the front door. "Gracious, girl! Are you trying to give an old man a heart attack? Our ride will be here soon enough! Now go make sure those aliens of yours are ready, big day ahead, big day!"
He grins under his feathery moustache and claps his oversized hands and you jump up to hug him impulsively, planting a wet kiss on his cheek and then ducking inside before he can sputter too much about ladylike behaviour. Why you would possibly want to act like a lady you really don't know. You’d much rather act like Jade.
Of course everyone is ready, it isn't at all like you have much to do. The trolls don't have to pack because they don't have anything besides what they came with. It seemed a little silly to try to give them anything else, since what you had really wasn't what they needed. Once you are with Rose and Dave and John you are sure you'll be able to take care of things better. It will be cool to go shopping in person as opposed to on a computer, and it will be good to give the trolls some new clean clothes so they can do laundry easier. Trolls didn't seem to mind too much about dirty clothing which makes sense to you, but smelling bad wasn't very nice no matter how clean or dirty you were. And smelly trolls, you’ve learned, are really damn gross.
Sollux is still on his computer, still talking to Feferi. It's hard not to overhear him since he is talking, and that means overhearing how much he hates being here. That makes you sad because Tavros and Gamzee are having fun and despite everyone worrying Gamzee hasn't once tried to kill you except when he woke up and even then he'd gotten confused and just tore up the couch instead. Grandpa likes him too and Grandpa is an excellent judge of character - he told you so himself.
You really hate telling Sollux he needs to sign off and get ready, but it doesn't matter because he doesn't listen to you anyway. In fact he ignores you completely until you take the computer away and promise Feferi that you'll make him sign on as soon as you have internet again. He calls you quite a few interesting troll names and you fight right back and threaten to leave him behind if he keeps being an ass. Of course you don't mean it but Sollux just shrinks, like it's a real threat and he's suddenly afraid and all the anger is out of his voice when he asks you if you'll really leave him to rot here.
It takes ten minutes of furious hugs to make sure Sollux knows you'd never ever keep him away from his friends.
++++++++++
Grandpa shouts for you and you finish checking your house one last time. It is strange to be leaving it and you're trying to make sure you have absolutely everything taken care of. Now you're out of time so it just has to be enough. You're leaving and you don't know when you'll be back. You can't tell if you never want to return - or if you don't want to leave. Feelings sure are complicated sometimes.
The noise of the helicopter as you step outside is terribly loud and you stare in wonder as the blades slow, optical illusion that they're turning backwards slowly reversing until they finally stop. It's both bigger and smaller than you expected it to be, slick lines and black paint and a galaxy painted on the tail. Grandpa waves at you to catch your attention impatiently and you hurry across the grass to meet him. The others are already there, Tavros held in Grandpa's arms like he weighs nothing. (You've been working very hard to help his legs back to working properly again but you've only gotten to standing up so far. Walking was going to take a lot more YouTube videos.)
"Come on girl! Time to get those feet of your wet on some real travel, not those silly game shenanigans! In, in all of you. You too, Mister Tavros."
Grandpa hustles all of you into the helicopter and into your seats. You help buckle Sollux and Gamzee in and that's when the first problem comes. Because both of them get very upset.
Tavros leans over and unbuckles Sollux as Grandpa puts his hands on Gamzee's shoulders, and both have the same effect - the trolls calm down and stop trying to claw everyone. You hadn't realized that maybe they would think of seatbelts and harnesses as being trapped, but apparently it's a bad thing. You're almost twenty minutes late to take off because that's how long it takes to convince Sollux and Gamzee that you're not going to kill them or leave them stuck in the helicopter or all sorts of silly things. Grandpa does a better job of it with Gamzee than you do with Sollux: the blind troll spends the whole flight away from your island clutching his buckle and making sure he can undo it at a moment's notice. He's unusually annoying today and you're trying hard not to be too upset but it's really a pain.
Tavros at least sits quiet and patient and watches out the window in glee and awe. He's so excited to see the sky and the clouds you have to call his name lots of times before he hears you, like he forgot he was wearing his headphone radio things. Of course he blushes when he realizes you were calling him. It's very easy to make Tavros blush.
"Are you having fun?"
"Yes! This is amazing! We're flying Jade - I love flying!" His voice is scratchy over the radio into your ears, but it's easy to hear how happy he is. "I wish we could feel the wind! Then it would be perfect!"
Tavros doesn't stutter when he's happy. That's nice, and very cute. You wonder if you should tell him, but that would probably only make him embarrassed and he always stuttered then. Tavros happy is a lot better than Tavros talking to Rufio, you decide. Maybe you will tell him, later.
"Don't worry, my boy. You'll be well sick of flying by the time we're done, mark my words." Grandpa is very annoyed, and is sitting and grumping in his seat because the pilot thanked him for not smoking five times until Grandpa stopped. (He had tried asking very nicely too! But the pilot said no and that was that, which made for grumpy Grandpa. It's a bit enlightening because you never saw anyone say no to Grandpa, not ever.)
"I don't think I'll ever get tired of flying." Tavros counters, shaking his head, craning his neck to better see out the window beside him.
He's not at all upset about being strapped in like the others - he isn't even holding onto the belt. Tavros sometimes doesn't act like the other trolls at all. "How come you're not worried about the seatbelt like Gamzee and Sollux are, Tavros?"
"Becath he'th a wriggler." Sollux grumped, clawing at the seat, tearing lines into the leather. "He’th alwayth been a wriggler. If he didn't-"
Tavros' smile is gone, all gone and it makes you angry so you punch Sollux in the arm. "Shut up, fuckass. I wasn't asking you! You're the wiggler! It's just a strap and you can undo it any time! Tavros is being braver than you! He isn’t ruining things and making fun of people!"
Tavros is blushing really badly now, and biting his lip and looking at his hands and he's really silly sometimes because even when you compliment him he gets embarrassed. "Uh, no I'm not - not being brave. Not really. Um, it's just that I, um, I'm really used to being trapped? It was really bad, at first, um, in my chair. I was pretty sick for a while, until I got used to it."
"Damn right," Gamzee adds with a big smile that shows off all of his teeth. "My brother was all crazy in his thinkpan when I found him. We laid down some MERCIful MUSIC until he was better, I remember." Gamzee looks like he's about to say more when the pilot points out the sight of land and you're all distracted by landing (and getting out of the seatbelts) to think more about it.
Tavros is more scared than usual, stuttering and unsure as the airport people bring a wheelchair for him, but you think it's from all the flying and meeting new people. Gamzee insists on pushing him and growls when anyone tries to help, but that's just a troll thing.
Isn't it?
==>Be Rose
You and Kanaya have canvassed the outer rim of your immediate property to no avail. There are no indications of either Equius or Nepeta and while Kanaya is not surprised at the development, both trolls being adept hunters and capable of hiding their trail, you're worried. You think that you'll make your Mother purchase cellphones for the trolls so that you can remain in contact even if they adventure into the woods. Right now you wish you'd thought of it before the pair had left.
"What do you think our next step to finding the location of our missing companions should be?" Kanaya is stepping carefully through the deer trail that leads up into the mountains, being certain to keep an eye on you and the house. Neither of you want her lost as well.
"I suppose we will have to wait. I can check the local police and game department and see if anything unusual was reported. We can hope that they're sleeping now and in the evening when the others have arrived we can work out search parties. We can send up flares, if Mother still has some stashed in the basement. Perhaps they are simply lost and need a reminder to where we are." From what you have heard and seen of the pair, it seems unlikely. You hold onto hope nonetheless.
You turn back to the house and Kanaya follows so gracefully at your side that she is nearly floating, otherworldly even for a troll in the way her skin reflects the light of the sun. You had always been of the school that firmly believed that vampires did not and should never sparkle but you think maybe rainbow drinkers could be given the exception. Kanaya shines and shimmers in the light and she's beautiful and unsettling all at once.
She stops suddenly, spinning around and you're preparing yourself for strife even when you have no weapons and don't know the threat. She has her tube of lipstick out and you can't think of a better disguise or a more ridiculous one and you're both prepared as the sounds of a struggle finally reaches your ears.
When Nepeta appears you have a single moment of relief before you recognize what she's carrying and then the relief is completely overshadowed by panic. It's a mountain lion. A very dead mountain lion, carried across her tiny shoulders like Hercules would in stories of old. She looks inordinately pleased with herself. You can't help but think about the local animal groups and their insistence that the creatures were extinct in the mountains.
You decide proof of the creature's (former) existence is not what you need to be worried about right now. Right now you are looking at the blood the creature has spilled down Nepeta's back and undoubtedly trailed for miles behind her, and the fact that your area was considered a reserve and hunting was not supposed to happen (and yes it did, but that meant you had a very vigilant Parks and Rec marshal who you are sure is going to follow that trail back to your home and ask uncomfortable questions you aren't going to be able to answer).
Kanaya is fretting over Nepeta's jacket, as if that were the thing to be worried about at this instant instead of more pressing matters like the two hundred pounds of wild cat the girl has killed - oh God - with her bare hands.
"You look upset, Rose. I would think the return of our presumed missing friends would be cause of happiness. Nepeta's catch has disturbed you? Are large feline creatures considered inappropriate to hunt here?"
Nepeta turns to you with wide eyes that are shocked at the implication of wrongdoing and her bottom lip extends and wavers. You have never personally experienced the real-time display of the word 'wibble' before; you feel enlightened. Nepeta is... wibbling. It is surprisingly effective. "But Roooooose, how could it be bad to hunt him? It wasn't like he didn't defend himself! He tried really hard! And this way you don't have to worry about salmon-ella or germs or anything making us sick so everyone can have a nice welcome home dinner!" She's so proud of herself you can almost feel it, a wave of self assurance coupled with the sort of naivety that triggers feelings in you that must certainly be similar to the urge adults have to keep children from sticking their fingers into electrical sockets. It is actually quite difficult to be angry with her, though the idea of eating the cat makes your stomach roll.
You sigh and shake your head. You can see a losing battle looming in front of you and the resistance is token at best. "Nepeta, hunting isn't allowed around here, especially not in the spring. If anyone realizes what you've done, they'll bring trouble." You are beginning to fret until you remember that if rangers show up at your door, they are most likely going to see the trolls as human. That helps ease some of your worry, though the corpse hanging lifelessly from Nepeta's shoulders is still a sight to twist your heart.
You sigh, quietly and with great dignity. "Is cooked meat really that much of a problem that you have to hunt for your own food?"
Nepeta at least has the grace to look embarrassed. "No? But this was a gift? For everyone. A spurrprise for them since they had to come so far. We thought it would be nice, and beclaws we didn't have anything else to give them...."
"I don't have the slightest idea how to prepare a mountain lion for food, you realize?"
"Oh, I can do that!" Nepeta sees the walls of your resistance caving in and turns her million-watt smile to Kanaya. "Kankitty will help! She's meowvelous!"
You wince. "That pun substitution was terrible."
Nepeta answers with her most mature response yet: she sticks her tongue out at you.
"I will admit..." Kanaya begins hesitantly, sounding embarrassed to speak up, "that while the options provided have been acceptable to taste, I am not certain the nourishment necessary for our metabolism was quite present. It would be good to make an attempt with this beast, which would keep the death of the creature from being a waste."
Your resistance folds completely at that and you gesture for Nepeta to bring the thing to the back of the house. You know it's wrong and you could get into some kind of trouble if they find the corpse of an endangered animal in your back yard, and yet you can't quite bring yourself to care further. If your friends need fresh meat to survive, you'll happily sacrifice a wildcat or anything else to feed them. You just hope it won't be necessary.
Now onto more pressing matters. "Equius is with you? I hope he's hiding your trail." She'd spoke of herself in the plural so much you'd assumed she'd meant to include him, yet the troll has yet to appear. You aren't quite sure what to make of her facial expression as she turns bright eyes to you. "Of course we didn't leave a trail! That would be pawful. Equius is right behind us, he's just..."
She trails off and you start to worry again. You move with slow and steady grace from worry to complete and total surprise, with flashes of disbelief and horror alongside for flavour, as the troll in question appears. You cannot believe what you are seeing, and yet there is no way it cannot be true. You would not hallucinate this... this insanely.
Equius steps out of the tree cover with a black bear over his shoulders in a fireman's carry.
Kanaya has to place a hand between you and the solid, reassuring wall of your home as you begin to thump your forehead against it; your manner is somewhat overdramatic but you take comfort in it nonetheless.
==>Be Dave
"Holy shit."
"Dude."
"I think this deserves a bit more respect than that, kid. I taught you better."
"Dude, man."
"Better."
"What are you going on about?" Cane clutched in her hands, Terezi cranes her neck around in her seat, nostrils flaring to try to get a better picture of her surroundings and figure out what has you and Bro so appreciative. You don't think she'll quite catch it.
You knew Grandpa Harley had money - the man had a private island with a volcano, ancient ruins and a fucking radioactive dog. Okay, some of that had been a result if the game and timey wimey bullshit but nonetheless a man with his own fucking island implied more than rich. The proper term here would be closer to loaded. You knew he was setting you all up with plane tickets, but considering he was moving fifteen of you at once you'd expected to be sandwiched between a fat lady who smelled of cheese and wanted to show you her earwax collection and somebody's kid who refused to stop crying the whole flight and would probably hurl his pitiable snack pack of peanuts into your lap.
You've not actually flown before - but who needed experience when you had what mass media had taught you in advance? That's why it's such a shock, because you'd had a certain expectation when you'd hopped in the cab and Grandpa had shattered it like plate glass in a Bruce Willis movie.
Private airfield. Private plane. First class private plane. The whole thing is class. The fucking thing has a kitchen. You're almost afraid to touch anything. Bro's trying to chill back in his oversized and overstuffed armchair and you can tell he's just as shocked. This is the high life - and it's so foreign you can't say you even dreamed of it because it's so far out of your range you might as well have dreamed about being a fairy princess on another planet. The kind with a wand and a pony and sparkles and everything.
Your stewardess - there are five of you, a stewardess and a pilot - tells you to prepare for takeoff and points out the emergency exits with a thousand dollar smile, on the strange and unlikely chance you survive the inevitable crash and need to drag yourself from the twisted burning wreckage. What? Nervous? You? Never.
Terezi does her best to spoil the mood by licking the remote that's attached to her chair. You have to hand it to flight chick - her plastic smile doesn't move an inch. She demonstrates the personal television sets for Terezi and only wipes her hand discreetly on her skirt when she thinks no one is looking. It's something to know that the trolls read as human enough to pass airport security (though you barely had to do more than show your id, so much for worrying about the TSA) but their weirdness translates clear through. It would probably be better if you could do something about that strangeness, but yeah, you know a lost cause before you start it. Besides, there's something about how Terezi doesn't give a fuck about what people are thinking or doing about her. You respect that (and might maybe, though you wouldn't admit it ever, admire it).
The plane starts, the rumble of the engine traveling up through the floor and into your feet and shaking you to your bone. You're not gripping the armrest of your seat so hard you can hear the plastic crack. You're not staring carefully ahead at the TV screen in front of you, completely unaware of what it's even showing. You are not taking deep, steady breaths in through your nose and out through your mouth and pushing down on your diaphragm like the downward dog. You are not quietly grateful at the cool grey hand that covers your own and squeezes and that the owner doesn't point out all the things you are not doing, she just complains about how strange everything smells. You are Dave Strider, the fucking Knight of Time. You aren't afraid of hurtling through the air at a thousand miles per hour in a ten ton metal coffin you have no control over.
Strider's don't do fear.
++++++++++++
"Hey kid."
You've moved from the overstuffed armchair to one of the booths because you thought sitting at a table would maybe convince your brain that you were at a restaurant. It isn't working. You know that when this is all over you are going to hate yourself, but right now there's this ball of unfamiliar tension in your chest that you can't seem to shake and if you aren't careful your trembling limbs are going to fucking jitterbug right off the plane. You look up into Bro's shades as he slides onto the booth across from you and in an act of small mercy you aren't sure you deserve he doesn't mention the napkin you've shredded to a neat pile in front of you. (You keep trying to think of a cool reason to be committing napkin murder in the first degree, but you can't get past napkin murder and it's not nearly ironic enough on its own.)
"Hey," he repeats, head nodding and you realize he's got one earbud in. You can only make out the bass line over the sound of the plane and can't place it - maybe something new, maybe one of Bro's in-progress pieces. "You cool?"
"Dude, I'm so chill that when we land they better have security around, because fucking penguins are going to be swarming around, trying to get a piece of this ice."
"Is that so? Well make sure you're ready for egg duty, Dave. The boys are the nurturing half of that equation, or did you never watch Happy Feet?"
"Ugh, your taste in movies is almost as bad as Egbert's."
"A guy's gotta have his vices. Schmoopy movies, smokes, sick beats and booze keep the bitches at my feet."
You snort because that joke is one that never gets old - your brother hasn't been able to keep a girlfriend for ages and any bitches he may or may not have he certainly never brought home. He managed to suggest over the years with a smirk and raised eyebrow that he got what he wanted during his late nights out and you could never tell if that was sarcasm or sincerity and really didn't care.
The stewardess comes by and asks what you'd like for the dinner option - steak or chicken - and you go for the beef because it'll be a while before you feel comfortable eating anything with wings. Bro goes for the same and when the girl leaves he shakes his head. "Damn but Harley doesn't mess around."
"Yeah. Jade always gave off the filthy stinking rich crazy cat lady vibe. She talked about Gramps and all, but it's weird to see it."
Bro leans back, hands tucked behind his head, head nodding subtly to the beat in his ear. "Nice though. I could get used to this."
"Isn't that the plan? Get one of your mixes recognized and start your worldwide tour?" It was the dream, sure. His but yours as well - a way out and the high life all at once. Of course this is nice. It's fucking brilliant. It also doesn't feel real. Guys like you do not fly fucking first class and get offered wine with your beef or chicken meal that you are seriously suspecting will look like actual food and not some TV dinner.
"One plan, yeah." Bro stays silent so you go back to your napkin destruction, sparing no corner. Eventually the engine hum becomes a background noise and a little bit of the knot in your chest unwinds. Your brother is sitting across from you and if he's cool about all this you think you can manage to fucking fake it. It does make you wonder though...
"Hey Bro. You ever fly before?"
"No. Toured the desert to the west coast and back once."
That's news, something you've never heard him mention before. You're a little suspicious because it's the sort of thing you think he would have bragged about, you figure, sometime before. "What, you drove?"
"Naw, didn't have my license back then. Or a car." He holds up a thumb and wiggles it to show he'd hitchhiked the route, the sort of thing that you could apparently do when Bro was a kid but can't now because you'd just get killed by some sicko who'd wear your head like a hat through three states. Creepy.
You try to think why he'd have done it and not tell you 'til now, but come up empty of ideas except the ridiculous, involving drug cartels and chasing some legendary DJ or something equally stupid. You raise a lone eyebrow, bro-code for 'dish', and wait.
"I needed to get to Washington." A one shoulder shrug: bro-code for not the full truth, keep digging. Slouched with one arm slung over the back of the chair, the other flat on the table: uncomfortable subject, but not signalling to back off.
"What was there? Are we talking Egbert's Washington?"
Finger tap: getting close to something. Careful or you'll just piss him off and he'll turn it into strife to distract you. Strife on a plane is a bad idea. "Yeah. Where Egbert's from."
He ignored the first question: red flag, Bro never ignores questions. He deflects and lies and jokes and sometimes answers but ignorance is for losers in his book. Push forward; the bastard wants you to or he wouldn't be hanging around. "Why'd you go?"
Bro sighs. It isn't a sound he makes that often, complaining it's too common for his level of bigger-than- Lebowski cool. He shifts and rests his arms on the table and shit just got real because this isn't his usual air of disaffected cool bullshit. "I didn't know what the hell I was doing. Just woke up and grabbed my bag and thumbed it down 80, Smokey and no Bandits but a lot of bad food and one teen confused as all fuck until I walked into this pompous little cafe full of beatniks and lattes and met Amb- Ms Lalonde and Egbert - Ms Egbert - and Hass."
That takes a moment to process because it doesn't make sense, and when it does make sense you don't want to believe it. "What? What? Are you fucking kidding me? This is your attempt at distracting your little brother from the flying deathtrap he's stuck on? Let me tell you, Bro, it's weaker than Peter pre-spider bite. You are seriously-"
He cuts you off by lifting his shades, his red eyes piercing through the tinted lenses you are wearing like they weren't even there. "Kid, Dave, I'm being serious." The shades are replaced because no one can take a Strider glare for long, not even you, and you can count the times you've seen his eyes intentionally in the single digits. You shut up.
"I know it sounds fucking Twilight Zone here and trust me, I didn't believe the crap for the longest out of all of us. But you just saved the world and there's an alien girl who can taste colours trying to knock boots with you, I think I can put in a request for some suspension of disbelief here."
Your hands are fists on the table and you're not sure when you clenched them but you don't think they're unfolding anytime soon. It's just one thought that runs through your mind and makes your blood cold. "Are you saying you knew this was going to happen? And you didn't maybe think to tell me?"
"All I said was I met the other guardian-types on a harebrained trek across the country. Nice conclusion you're jumping to there."
The offhand disdain in his voice actually helps ease the clenched fists and the tension in your chest. It means your lungs seize up and make you choke when he continues.
"None of us knew what was going to happen, not for sure. We just knew something had happened and we needed to be ready when it happened again. It called itself a game, we knew that. We were pretty sure we failed when we played it." He shrugs and you have to remember to breathe. You want to reach over and punch him 'til those God damned anime glasses were a shattered wreck. You don’t because the plane is shaking from turbulence and love or money or hate couldn't move you at this moment and also, you know Bro. You know the little tells and tensions he carries and right now every part of his frame is telling you how much he hates this. Striders speak subtle, and Bro is practically screaming.
"What was I supposed to say Dave? Oh, by the way, at some point in your teen years you might get sucked into a game that will destroy everything and everyone you know and that if you win I don't actually know what happens but you probably save the world or something and if you die, well either you die or hell you might end up raising a kid and hoping he's better than you are? Tell me how I could have explained that to you, Strider. Please. It isn't like I spent years thinking about it."
You try to think of something to shoot that down with, an AK-47 of words in your hands and you've got nothing but blanks. What could he have said? Would you have even believed him? Even now you sometimes find yourself wondering if it even happened at all, and if you didn't have Terezi coating your face with saliva at least once a day you'd probably have more than passing doubt. If it wasn't so fucking complicated - private plane, private airfield - you would have believed it if someone told you this was all some hallucination and you were wrapped in cotton in a nuthouse somewhere.
You can't let it go at that, though. "You could have warned me somehow. You know, 'Hey Dave, do your homework; the world might depend on your knowledge of lava flows and frog genetics one day!' Something, fuck!"
Bro gives a smile that is all irony tinged with guilt and shakes his head. "I did, Dave. I did better than that." He holds out hands that are calloused and scarred, nicotine stained nails chipped and raw, endless years of holding swords and strife practice adding up. "I taught you to survive, didn't I?"
You can't respond to that because the last hundred hours of the session plays back in your mind like someone sat on the remote and each asscheek is pressing down on fast forward and rewind and fuck, you know he's right. You were the only one prepared for this shit. If you hadn't survived to jump back and create a new Alpha timeline you never would have made it out. John and Jade would be dead and you and Rose would have been left just waiting to die. You hadn't gotten the real details out of Davesprite because the flighty bastard couldn't manage much without getting all obscure on you, but you'd gotten the gist. Nevermind the Dead Daves. They'd been warnings all of their own.
"You kicked ass out there. Better than me. Better than I did, I think. You beat the fucking game and got everything back. I might be sorry I couldn't warn you, but I'm still glad I didn't. If I did and it fucked everything up it would have been worse."
Your brother has a point you really don't want to admit. If you'd known you know you would have told John. And then what? Timey wimey bullshit aside you know that just one event can change things pretty fucking drastically, you know it really fucking well. All it takes is the flip of a coin... You don't quite give him the verbal acknowledgement though, because you're stuck on one point. "You played Sburb? But Egbert said he made all of you the same way he made us - though I guess this is time bullshit again...”
"Yeah well Egbert was our expert on it. I got shortchanged on the memory department, but considering what Ms Lalonde went through I'm glad. I think we got stuck playing the same shitty game, but we lost. Don't ask me how or why because fuck if I know but..." He trails off for a second, hands snaking to his hair to rub at his temples and god, it is so fucking strange to see your brother act so damn human. You're used to him being invincible. "We all had dreams. Nightmares. I remember a desert that just wouldn't end and everything on fire, burning bushes that made me think maybe I just watched The Ten Commandments too many times. These creepy monkey things talking to me. Chess. We all fucking remembered chess was important." Bro's laugh is a little broken and that creeps you out more than the rest of the conversation combined. "It was such a trip to end up back there and see it all real. Like this was all some lie to just hold us over until you were old enough or something. Fuck.
"Look I'm just running my mouth now. The point is yeah, I'm pretty sure we played. Shame Egbert's gone because she was the best of us but we'll get Amber and Hass to sit down, see what we all remember. I don't know if that'll give us any answers about how weird things are being but hey, not like we have to keep it a secret any more.
"I just didn't want all of us dumping this on you at once. You deserve to hear it straight from the horse's ass."
Bro is staring at you and you aren't sure when you remember how to breathe again. The silence between you stretches and the realization that he's worried - that you can read him like an open book even with the hat and shades and perfectly flat expression - hits you like an oncoming train (from Seattle, 180 miles per hour). Bro's worried. He's worried about how you feel about him and the entire idea is so ludicrous you could spend a week at an open mic and still not have scratched the waxy surface to reveal the rainbow underneath.
Your Bro thinks you're going to hate him because he didn't warn you you were scheduled to save the world in between your Wheaties breakfast and After School Power Hour television specials.
Fuck that.
"You know," you drawl, voice painfully easy, "I think that's the most you've ever said to me in one sitting. Ignoring that Alanis Morisette is Not Ironic rant on New Year’s, because I promised to forget that ever happened."
"Dave..."
"Of course I'm pissed. But I'll get over it. You're right - you couldn't say anything without fucking it up. All things considered the shitty swords were damn good practice." You won’t do anything so cliché as lift your shades, but you might grace your brother with the rarest of Strider gifts. You smile. "We're cool."
"We're chill?"
"Dude, someone call Gore, this plane's carrying the cure to his global problems in its happy gas guzzling stomach. We're chill."
You seal the deal with a fist bump and it isn't a perfect ending because people like you don't get those (you’re well aware), but like hell are you making your Bro grovel for something when you're still too fucking happy he's alive to feel bad in the first place. Carrying a stupid grudge you'd resolve anyway is for the movies. You'd rather get this shit out of the way and focus on the more important things in your life. Like the fact you can live it.
You're a walking billboard to the slogan 'life's too short' and you don't care. Shitty concerned children’s agencies or whatever they were didn't even fucking know.
==>Be John
Flying first class is pretty cool. It's a bit more like Air Force One than Iron Man or Mission: Impossible, and so far you haven't seen any escaped criminals or poisonous snakes, but who knows! You're totally prepared for any eventuality. Okay, maybe not snakes, but you could totally handle the criminal element.
You just wish your suit jacket wasn't so hot.
"Why do you keep looking around, doofus? I have all the queens. Six queens are here." Vriska sets a pile of cards down on the table between you and her smile is all fangs in a way that is still a little creepy and a lot cool.
You shake your head and match her grin. "No way Vriska! I totally call that bluff!" You laugh as she shrieks in frustration and scoops up the whole stack of cards.
"You're cheating! You have to be cheating to see through my brilliant facade time and again you little wriggler!" She pouts and you try not to laugh harder as Karkat scowls.
"He isn't cheating. As hard as it might be for your tiny thinkpan to get used to despite numerous attempts to schoolfeed you, Serket, Egbert just remembers the thing you keep fucking forgetting." His scowl shifts and you are pretty sure that's Karkat's way of smiling. Almost all of his expressions are angry ones, but you are totally getting used to telling them apart. "Egbert remembers that human cards only come fucking four to a set, not eight."
You nod, attempting to look properly sympathetic. "Yup! You keep saying you have six or eight or something and that's so obvious I have to call you on it. Sorry Vriska."
"This is haaaaaaaard. Why can't we just add more cards so it isn't so stupid?" Vriska looks at you a little like the heroine who is totally about to ask the hero to do something important. "Right John? You'll take pity on me, right? Maybe you could take some of these horrible cards from me?"
Karkat starts that sputtering sound that signals he's going to do some really impressive swearing that always makes your ears burn when your dad is in hearing range (but he somehow is still ignoring it). You manage to cut him off before he gets really started because this time you totally agree with him. "No way Vriska! We already started the game; we have to play all the way through! Those are the rules - besides Karkat isn't having problems." The troll to your right scowls in a way you guess is victorious, and across from you Vriska's face is all disappointed for a second before she bares her teeth.
"Well of course he's better at the easier game. I bet I would totally make you both the 'asshole' if we played with a proper deck of cards!"
"We can do that next!" Oh man you don't want another fight not here especially since you don't think the windy thing and pressurized plane interiors are a good mix. Hollywood has taught you a lot about explosive decompression and you really don't want to have to find out if you're strong enough to fly while getting a world map view of ... well, wherever you were flying over right now. You aren't by the window to look and you haven't ever been that good about geography anyway. It'd be easier if the world actually had all those different coloured sections and lines and everything.
"We'll ask the stewardess if she has another deck! Besides, Assh- I mean President is a way better game if you play it a couple a times. That's kind of the point." Your laugh this time is pretty nervous but Karkat seems to notice that because he goes quiet and stares at his cards like he can see through them and if they caught fire suddenly you would not be surprised at all.
"Three aces." He sets down the cards and you're really grateful that he's not fighting with Vriska more. They really don't get along at all and Karkat has been angrier than ever at her since she tried the mind thing on you, even after you forgave her.
"Three sixes." You and Karkat are down to the last few of your cards, and it's pretty clear Vriska is going to lose this round.
"Three nines." You look at her smiling face but you're pretty sure she's telling the truth - she had to pick up a lot of cards.
"Four kings." Karkat - yeah, that is totally his version of a smile, even if he's mostly lineface and on anyone else it would be a frown.
"No way! I call that Vantas - do you really think you can lie to me?" Vriska is already pushing the card pile forward to Karkat when he flips his last four cards over - kings, all of them, the king of hearts with his sword in his head (that always seems so strange to you) looking up at her.
You manage to flag down the smiling stewardess and get a second deck of cards when the screaming stops, but it takes a while. Vriska is a really, really sore loser.
++++++++++++++
"Why do you keep yanking at your shirt, Egbert?"
You look over at Karkat and smile, embarrassed at being caught in the act. Your bowtie is already shoved in your pocket - it really hadn't lasted long at all. You want to take the jacket off and roll up your sleeves but that would mean Dad was right about this being silly and you might possibly be being stubborn about that.
"Oh, I'm a little hot." You don't admit that the collar is a touch too small and a bit scratchy too. That would be complaining. "It's okay though. We'll be landing in an hour."
"Why did you wear something so different?" Karkat looks at you in open curiosity and you realize he isn't swearing. Wow. "It isn't even blue."
You stare at your outfit and yeah, you feel a little silly about it but it seemed like a good idea at the time. "Well, we're flying first class! Only the really rich can do that and I was thinking it'd be cool to act like we were really important or something. I guess it's pretty stupid. And hot." You hadn't bothered with your dress shoes because they were stupidly uncomfortable so your sneakers peek out from your black slacks, yellow and dirty and out of place. You stare at them and make your toes wiggle, the canvas moving across them as you do so. "I'll get changed when we get in."
Now Karkat isn't looking at you, he's staring out at the landscape and scowling again - well, deeper than he was a minute ago. "Don't. It's nice to see you humans have some sense of fucking decency. It looks good on you, Egbert. Makes you look less like an idiot. Keep it - maybe we'll have to rely on you to get us out of some harebrained shitty scheme yet."
You give him a look of surprise that he somehow sees even though he's staring at clouds. "I've watched your movies, Egbert. You want the chance to be the hero again when some psycho clown from the wrong blood caste bursts through the floor and tries to kill us all, well be my fucking guest." He's angry - but you don't think he's angry at you. Of course Karkat is angry all the time, but this bothers you and you really wish you knew how to make it better.
"I'm not trying to be a hero... not like that..."
"Like what, Egderp?"
"Well, the way you said it... like... selfish. I don't really want something bad to happen just so I can do something cool." You hadn't ever thought about things that way, and now you feel shitty for even imagining snakes or convicts. You know exactly how not cool real danger is now. You don't even know why you thought it would be fun.
Karkat turns to you, his face all twisted up. "That's not what I fucking meant. Of course you're not being selfish, idiot. You're too grubbing incompetent to be selfish. Being selfish would take such a leap your thinkpan would risk never coming down again. You lack the ego to be fucking selfish."
...you really aren't sure if that makes you feel better or not.
"What I was trying to say - fuck it, nevermind. Just go, let Vriska beat you at your incomprehensible human games or whatever."
"No. We were talking and that sounded important, Karkat. Besides, we're friendleaders together, right? We have to be able to count on each other." You know Karkat doesn't like to be touched very much but you can't help yourself; you set a hand lightly on his shoulder and you think it's a victory that this time, he doesn't flinch away or punch you.
Of course, he doesn't look any happier for it either.
"Egbert, let it go."
You give him your best stern face and shake your head. "No way! Now I'm going to be curious and bother you until you tell me what's on your mind, Karkat. That's how friendship works!"
"If you were a troll I'd kill you."
You give him your best grin, the one that always makes you feel better just for giving it. "Then I'm really glad I'm a human. I bet you are too!"
Karkat's face goes flat, and that tells you that you said something wrong, because it only does that when he doesn't want anyone to know how he feels about something and since he's almost always angry about things it doesn't leave a lot of emotions he might want to hide. You don't understand it. Why would Karkat want you to be a troll? He was the one who talked about how lucky you were that you hadn't woke up on Alternia since you'd all be dead by now and you believe him. And if he wanted you to be a troll, did he want to kill you? Was this that black romance stuff again?
"Egbert, I was just running my protein chute because I gag at the idea if being forced to once again gather my vastly underused potential to deal with the God damned minutiae of your fucking shitty world. If some limbless reptiles or convicted but still surviving prisoners of your laughingstock of a justice system appear, I will let you handle it. You are clearly vastly qualified. You can call me when a God shows up and wants to eat our bloodpushers."
"I...what?"
"Pitiable fuck - if you can't listen to a properly prepared rant I am not going to fucking repeat myself. I answered your question, now leave me alone. I'm going to find some food."
He storms off towards the front of the plane before you can tell him he just has to ask the stewardess, and you stare at his back for a long, confused while. His shoulders are hiked up so high you can't even see his neck. He really is upset.
You wish you knew why. This wasn't how he'd been acting when you'd been playing cards, or before. You were wrong - he must be angry at you. Maybe he didn't like that you let Vriska win a round? But you'd both been beating her badly and she'd been really upset that her luck wasn't working and you hadn't wanted her to be sad.
You don't want Karkat to be sad either.
You're kind of glad that the stewardess asks you all to go back to your super comfortable chairs and put your seatbelts on. You're landing soon, and that means seeing the others. You're sure things will be better once you're all together again.
==>Be Equius
You are skinning and gutting a clawfurbeast, called a bear, in the back of Rose human's hive. You do not know what you are doing, not exactly, because you have never taken an animal apart to eat before. That was always the duty of your lusus, as was proper. You are very glad you have your moirail to assist you in the task, even if she seems to take an undignified amount of pleasure preparing her own kill.
You have found that it is somewhat similar to how you might prepare a beast for your own study, on Alternia. You certainly culled quite a few creatures to better understand their muscle and tendon and bone, layer pulled back by layer until you understood how they worked and were formed and you could replicate it yourself. Until you could build machines with muscles of fibrewool and tendons of steel, until they could move as gracefully as a hoofbeast - or would have, if you'd better understood how to program them, if you didn't so often ruin the most important, minute details so that when complete they would explode in your face. You always struggled with the fine details, with tasks that need a hand far lighter than your clumsy strength.
You don't need to be gentle here. It is a good feeling, to be able to act without the usual tension you must carry in your frame, to let yourself flex and pull and push and not worry about breaking anything, hurting anyone. This beast is broken already; you are turning him into something useful, and that is a pleasant way to spend the morning.
Your knife slices through fur and tissue with ease, your stomach churns at the freakish colour of the beast's blood. It had shocked you when you'd seen it and Nepeta had to remind you that all such things from Earth had this caste colour, one blood regardless of standing.
The thought seems highly inappropriate to you but you cannot insult your hosts by saying so. Especially not when it appears they are of a high caste themselves, the Rose human's own hive quite grand and well outfitted. It would be rude and you cannot debase yourself, despite your curiosity. You try not to dwell on ways you might do so accidentally, or perhaps inspire them to explain such matters unprompted.
Nepeta's creature is smaller than yours and carries less meat. You look at the pile of steaks she has managed from its carcass and quietly sigh. They are lopsided, uneven things, the stack decently sized but no two cuts of meat the same thickness. She is clearly pleased. Your own progress is slower but your meat is piled in sections as even as you can manage, large chunks that can be turned into steaks when they need to be used rather than a wild collection of meat. At least your moirail has managed to remain clean. Her coat is hanging over the back of the door to return to the hive, the only parts of her tinted garish red her hands, claws, and a small streak on her chin. She is cleaning her hands by licking them and you shake your head at her antics. She does not understand how to function in proper society and while it sometimes frustrates you, at times like this you pity the hunter who lived in a cave and needs her moirail to keep her out of trouble.
You leave her to her own devices for the moment – you will coax her inside later and the pair of you will get properly clean in order to be presentable when the others arrive, the Jade human and her lusus, as well as Nitram and Captor and the Highblood.
You are not sure how you will handle yourself when he arrives. Even after speaking with Nepeta about it – perhaps especially because of that conversation, your heart races when you think of him. You cannot bear to lose your moirail a second time. The question is if you feel capable of dealing with it.
In the meantime, you have a beast to prepare for a proper welcoming feast for your friends. The work is truly beneath you, but you don’t really mind. It is nice to be doing something constructive again.
++++++++++++++++
You are tense as the vehicle turns into the driveway. It swings wildly and screeches when it stops, dust spiralling sway from the back end. It seems ridiculously small, to carry so many people in it. You had imagined something far more grand. When the side opens and a human adult emerges you assume he must be Jade's lusus. He is large and shaped somewhat like an adult male troll, but he is too fat to consider healthy or a threat, and his skin hangs from him in a way that you hope must indicate age; it's very disturbing.
He moves to the back of the transport and you wonder what he is doing when the other doors open and your attention is wrenched away from the lusus and towards the highblood who is squinting into the sunlight. Gamzee Makara looks exactly as he has always looked, and it makes your knees weak and your heart pound and your blood burn. His expression is one of uncertainty, the painted smile of the Messiahs disguising it but you have always watched the troll, you had measured his face and the way sopor dulled his eyes and his voice but also his muscle control. How the way he poisoned himself changed him and you had hated it and been drawn to him and even now you feel like you are being torn in two, warring emotions battling for dominance in your mind.
You don't take your eyes off Makara, so you miss the way that the male lusus lifts Nitram out of the vehicle like a toy and sets him in a wheelchair not unlike the one of your own design. You miss how the human Jade guides Captor to her friends. Your attention is fixed on the highblood and he must feel the weight of your glare because he turns to face you - and he dares smile.
Nepeta yowls and runs to your side as Gamzee approaches and you want to send her away but you know she would not go. Instead you hold out your arm and she clutches at it, reminding you to keep your temper. She has her claws bared and she is hissing, soft and sibilant. To see her angry is a strange thing - she is beautiful like this, like a storm or a wild clawbeast, but she is also less troll, less the girl who is your moirail and you do not want to lose her to the wildness. You won't, though - not so long as she holds your arm, because she's making sure she won't lose you either.
You were made for each other. It is why failing her makes the bile rise in your throat, makes you sick and so full of self loathing you want to break things until you bleed, as if bleeding could release the anger and make you a proper troll again, as if bleeding would ever make up for what you had done.
You had died. You had died and you had enjoyed it.
Gamzee Makara stops in front of you both and the smile is still on his lips, his eyes unfocused and jaw slack from sopor poisoning. "Bitchin’ hive here too. Humans have the best motherfuckin’ ideas. How's my cat-sister and her main moirail?" He only half looks at you both and you think his eyes twitch but you after a moment you guess you imagined it after all.
You take a deep breath and imagine yourself made of steel, bone and muscle and skin hard and not quivering. You have thought on this, long and hard after you returned to the living on this strange world. You had thought about it in your dream bubble as well - but then the imagined circumstances had been different. Nepeta's weight on your arm holds you together, keeps you from falling apart.
"I think you should go away, highblood. I do not wish to speak to you or see you with my moirail." You are not sweating. You refuse to acknowledge the dampness that is trickling down your back and gathering on your hands and trailing, tickling down the side of your face. You are focused instead on the face of the highblood in case he takes offence, in case the subjugglator hidden under the sopor appears suddenly. You know Gamzee has not ever shown signs of it before and you don't care. He is a threat and you will not dismiss him for the joke you had once considered him.
Makara stares, looking startled, eyes flickering between you and your moirail. He shifts, settling his weight into a slouch, his hands finding a way into his pockets. "Whoa, buddy, what's got you so bitchtits tense for? I was just coming by to see you and the kitty. Share this whole motherfuckin’ miracle you know? We're all gonna be here...."
You gape, which is quite low of you, and struggle not to see blue. It creeps in at the corners of your vision and your breathing is ragged. You are soaked through; even managing this sort of insolence is an absolute struggle against the rules you have lived and breathed for so long. Only the fact of what Makara has done keeps you from collapsing entirely. You know you would not be strong enough otherwise. "Do not act as if we have forgiven you, highblood. Even if you were not acting as you wanted to, you still killed my moirail. I will not let you have a second chance." Your voice cracks a you speak and you are so glad for the glasses that hide your eyes and give you dignity in the face of this fiasco.
"What? I'd never hurt my little sister." Makara reaches for Nepeta and his hand is shaking. For all that his words are clueless his hand is trembling like a leaf in the wind, and he doesn’t touch her, pulling back when her hiss increases in pitch. "Kitty-cat's right here, gettin’ her hiss on, Equius. No one is grey and dead, we're all part of the miracle."
He spreads his hands wide to gesture to the alien surroundings and shoves his hands back into his pockets when he is done. You can hardly breathe, you are so furious. The very sinew of your frame is trying to tear itself from your bones. You shake Nepeta from your grip as gently as you can manage and you suspect you still hurt her but that is behind the brilliant haze of blue that has flooded your eyes. Your breathing is ragged but you force the words through your clenched teeth and ignore when you hear two snap under the pressure. "How dare you?" You can barely contain yourself and you could scream from the anger but you don't and the pain of holding yourself taut is good, is right, is deserved. "How dare you, you act as if you've done nothing? Hoofbeastshit!" You don't blush at the extremely rude language. You are in fact sad that you cannot think of something stronger to better express your fury. You wish you had consulted Vantas, perhaps. The way in which he destroys language is both lewd and poetic. You had never had reason to acquire the skill. Now you desire stronger words with which to strike.
Part of you, behind the anger, is aware that Gamzee is likely too high on sopor to remember what he has done. He had not been this Gamzee Makara when he had strangled you with your own bow. That rational sense is secondary to the rage, however, and is losing the pitched battle to keep you from making what might be a huge mistake.
The highblood - whom you are threatening, whom you are standing against and whom you will ignore if he gives you an order, yes you will, looks horrified. He whines. "I ain't gonna forget a thing like hurting my main sister. I wouldn't."
You haul off and hit him and you feel his cheekbone crack under your blow as your own knuckles pop. Makara goes flying, which gathers the attention of the others finally but you don't care. You would hit him again - you want to as he struggles to sit up - but Nepeta has jumped onto your back and you are too afraid of hurting her to move at all.
She is speaking in your ear frantically and you realize she has been speaking for some time. You had not been listening at all.
"...is all right Equius really you have to stop now please you're scaring me Equius you have to keep your temper Gamzee doesn't remember that's okay really please don't hit him again I know you're mad I am too but he doesn't remember Equius -"
"Nepeta." You interrupt and she stops, voice catching on the edges of her throat. "It is all right. I have regained control of myself. Thank you."
"Oh." She holds onto you for a moment longer. "You're done hitting Gamzee? I don't blame you but I don't think we should be punishing him and he was just talking...."
You huff and sigh, but nod. Your moirail is correct, of course. She usually is. There is a part of you that is amazed that you could raise your hand to someone so clearly your superior in the first place and yet you did - and the weak feeling in your knees has passed. Your clothes are still soaked to your skin but you aren't sweating anymore either. You hold still as Nepeta slides down your back and you give her a smile that has more gaps than it did an hour ago. Your teeth will grow back, your hand will heal. Makara won't bother your moirail again.
"What's going on?" Your human, Rose, asks the question as the group finds their way beside you. You try to find a simple way to explain and are stopped by Nepeta's gasp.
You turn to her but she's fine - you follow her gaze to Makara and expect to see him readying himself to retaliate, or perhaps find the face of the subjugglator over his usually soporific expression. Instead you find him sitting, staring up at you both with confused eyes and makeup smeared where your fist had connected - and as you watch you see three long gashes slowly draw over his face. They bleed purple sluggishly, like an old wound. You know those lines like you know the palm of your hand, the tools in your workshop. You look to your moirail, standing beside you, but her strife specibus is clean - she didn't touch Makara. They are from her claws nonetheless. You know the shape of their attack. This makes no sense.
Nepeta seems to agree - she is pale, her skin ashen and the green of her blood pronounced under her eyes and in the hollow of her cheeks. She looks like she has seen a culling drone and you must resist the desire to pick her up because the urge to protect her is strong.
"What on Earth?"
"Equius?"
You ignore the noise of questions to focus on your moirail, but eventually one voice cuts through because it says what you least expect to hear.
"Come on, Gamzee."
Tavros - brown blood flushing his cheeks and looking and nervous as he glances between the human and you and your moirail - holds his ground in his wheeled chair. "Gamzee? Uh, come on. We should look after your face... and, um, then you and I can explore the new hive. Okay? I'll need your help... the grass is pretty hard to roll on, by myself..." He sets a hand on Gamzee’s shoulder, and you see he’s done his best to put himself in the line between you and the highblood.
You look behind the troll at the welts he had made in the ground behind him - he had no trouble getting to Makara to begin with. You realize the reason for the lie as Gamzee’s eyes brighten and he unfolds himself from where he is sitting, long limbs still attractive even if your hate for him is entirely platonic now. He smiles and the wounds crack and bleed anew. He steps behind Nitram's chair and seems to have forgotten that the rest of you exist, that you had been close to culling him. He is as oblivious as he had been when you had tried to remind him of your death; it disgusts you.
"Oh brother, we are gonna get our motherfuckin’ explore on, fuck yes. Tav and Gamzee, slam beats makin’ our way though the human hive. Did I tell you how much a miracle it is? I been looking for miracles, Tavbro. They're everywhere..."
"I know, Gamzee. It's, uh, a good thing. I'm glad..."
You watch them walk away and find you think even less of the brown-blood than you once had. That he'd align himself so blindly with a troll who would one day turn on him - that he would try to fill a quadrant with Makara, and be able to ignore what the troll had done - would do - it was not pitiable. It was detestable. He was weak, even weaker with his legs of flesh returned, than he had once been.
"I do hope someone will enlighten me as to what on Earth that was?" Your human, Rose, asks this. Kanaya stands at her side, too close to be polite. You wonder if she shares a fascination with the humans Vantas seemed to in the veil.
"Why were you hurting Gamzee? He's been really nice and not bad at all you know!" Makara's human, Jade asks this. Her expression seems to be a cross between upset and angry, and reminds you almost perversely of Nepeta. "Just because he went crazy in the game doesn't mean he'll do it again. The game made everyone crazy."
"The wounds on his face. They were not there when he arrived. They appeared after you struck him." Maryam sounds as shaken as you are, despite her calm expression. She, at least, is focusing on the more important matters. "I witnessed it. Those were the same scars he carried in the veil, when I killed him. Why did they appear now?"
"If you're athkin thupid quethtionth, why don't you athk why Nitram got hith fucking legth back but ith thtill a cripple and my fucking teeth grew back perfect and my eyeth are thtill burned out and uthleth?" Captor, as impolite as ever to his betters (of which there are many) walks over, holding to the arm of the male lusus, clearly still blind. "For what it'th worth, Makara'th only been his normal miracle-thpewing annoying thelf. The thopor hath him calm. Better than Nitram and me."
Jade looks guilty and you follow her eyes to her guardian's bandaged arm. You realize she has a similar wrapping and the strange colouration under her eye is a bruise."I told you it was okay, Sollux. I didn't know waking you up would make you so angry! It doesn't even hurt that much. So stop acting so weird about it already, jeeze."
You are momentarily impressed. "You woke up sleeping trolls badly and survived? With only a flesh wound?"
"Oh like it’th very hard. I'm blind and Nitram'th only ath usthful ath hith armth reach. Don't give her that much credit."
You turn to Captor, blood still racing through your veins and he an easy target for the displaced anger. "Indeed. How could I possibly have given two lowbloods any credit for being able to injure a weaker, surprised human. I continue to be amazed you haven't culled yourself out of shame."
"Lithen, you hemothpectrum obthe'thed idiot -"
"While I hate to interrupt what looks to be a jolly good fracas, don't you think we should go inside and get ourselves settled? Strider and his boy should be here soon enough, and if the flights managed to stay on time the Egberts won't be far behind." The lusus interrupts you before it ends in strife, and sets his hand on Captor's shoulder. You're surprised the troll accepts it - he sags a little, relaxing. If the lusus had tried that with you, you would have been hard pressed not to break his arm. Of course, yellow bloods were notoriously calm in comparison to higher castes.
"We can certainly continue the discussion of strange matters such as our various states of being while inside Rose’s hive. We have prepared it for guests. I suspect we will need to explain the newest development to the others when they arrive as well.” Kanaya gestures and the lusus follows her, tugging Captor along. You watch them disappear and find the remaining humans are still staring at you.
“We didn’t think we’d have to do this until everyone got here and we could make it a big announcement and everything-“
“But clearly matters are forcing our hand.”
“It’s just that everyone is back and alive and that makes us really glad, because we didn’t even get a chance to meet you before most of you were dead...so you’re not allowed to kill anyone okay?”
Rose is smaller than you in every way, but the gaze she fixes you with makes you sweat anew, makes your shoulders tense and you fight not to duck your head. You have no interest in submitting to a human. “We realize some of you are in trouble with the others, and we will discuss that when all of us are together. In the meantime, while you’re enjoying our hospitality, we’re asking that you respect us and refrain from turning my house into a bloodbath.”
“So no fighting, fuckass.”
“At least until all of us are here and understand the situation better. Understood?”
Your heart races, you’re sweating profusely, and it’s all from a slip of a girl you could break with one hand. You do not understand your mind at all some days, and you reach for the anger that you still carry to prevent yourself from looking pathetically weak before her. “Of course I can control myself. It behooves me to agree to your requests for now as you have been kind to host us all. When the others are here they will discuss Makara. You do know he must be culled? Before he runs out of his pies again. Or you will be the first to die.”
“I don’t think he’s so bad!” Jade insists this, and it turns your stomach to nothing but bile. You hold out your arm and Nepeta latches onto it. It helps calm you instantly.
“I believed that once.” You admit through broken teeth and wounded pride. “I hope you do not have to die to learn better.”
You walk away, and because she is your moirail and would not leave you right now for any reason you can think of, Nepeta stays at your side.
You lied to the humans. You don’t feel wretched about it. Lying to your moirail has been far worse. The humans don’t really compare.
++++++++++++++++++++
==>Be Aradia
Airplanes have their own time. Flying inside of them feels strange, but you like it. Landing is very bumpy and a little scary but Mr Egbert holds your hand and tells you it’s just fine and you grin and tell him you know. Just because you know it’s going to be okay doesn’t make actually feeling everything shake not scary. Just less scary. He agrees with you then. He’s a very smart lusus and as much as you loved your own you kind of wish they had been as interesting and knowledgeable as Mr Egbert is. He’d asked all sorts of questions about your session and what you knew about John’s and it had been nice to talk to someone about it all in one linear setting, instead of jumping back and forth all over the place. It’s also a great distraction from Vriska’s yelling and Karkat’s anger and John being pretty clueless about everything. You are probably going to have to talk to him about things, which makes you laugh because you never thought you’d be a good auspistice but Karkat really, really needs one right now. You don’t think Kanaya will mind too much.
John’s phone chirps as you’re getting ready to get off the airplane and he does a little jump of happiness as he looks at the screen. “Hey! I think Dave’s here. His flight was late so they’re just getting off their plane too. We can see them early!”
No one really gets to reply because he’s running to the door before you get a chance to. You let Karkat and Vriska follow John rather than get caught in their arguments again, and wait for Mr Egbert patiently. You like that it makes him happy. You aren’t so sure about how he likes to pat your head when he says thanks, but you can tell he means it to be nice so you don’t complain.
When you get off the plane you see John was right. He’s a distance away, talking animatedly to Feferi and Terezi and Eridan. Dave is standing nearby, watching them all behind his cool kid shades, and his lusus is right behind him. It is funny how much they look alike. They even sort of stand the same way, like they’re always waiting for an attack.
When Dave sees you, he flashsteps his way across the spongy black ground and stops in front of you. He gives you the same nod he used lots of times as you met up in your sessions. “How’s my favourite Maid of Time?”
That makes you laugh. “I’m the only Maid of Time, Knight.”
“You got a point with that?”
You give him a hug, which he endures, and then tug him back to the others. You want to meet his lusus properly after all, and see how everyone is. Karkat and Vriska trail behind you and you realize Dave is tense right about the time they join the group. You realize why when you see he’s looking at Eridan – who’s trying not to look at Karkat and you can tell he totally is.
Eridan’s scared. You can’t help but think he deserves it a little, and doesn’t deserve it a lot.
“So.” Dave says, long and slow like he has all the time in the world. He always liked doing that in your conversations. “How long ‘til someone dies once we’re all together.”
You think about it for a minute, listening hard. The answer makes you frown. “Ugh. Only about fifteen hours.”
He stares at you for a moment in silence. “Dude, Megido. I was joking.”
“Oh.” You feel a little embarrassed now. “I wasn’t.”
He keeps staring. You can tell you’re blushing. “Sorry?”
“Oh fucking hell.” |
The orange haired girl didn’t lie when she said she’d move in for the weekend. Marinette was happy that Alya didn’t follow her to the toilet – her only opportunity at this point to talk to Tikki. The poor kwami wasn’t used to hide for so long. Sneaking out as Ladybug was even harder with her best friend around. [Can’t visit you, kitty cat. My bestie decided to handcuff herself to me.], she texted her partner. [No problem, my lady. I have a few shoots anyway so my free-time is limited.] Marinette’s face got stern. The boy told her before that he didn’t enjoy modeling as much as it seemed on the pictures. That his father practically forced him into the business. Her phone vibrated again with just an image of Adrien’s mouth stretched into a smug grin. A bit of his shoulders could be seen underneath a sports shirt with a stunning design. In the background other models were posing. [Are you texting me from one of your shoots? Are you stupid? What if they catch you? They’ll be angry at you for leaking the newest collection! *rolling eyes emoji*] [But I missed you, bugaboo! D:] [Say, can I call you tonight?] Marinette’s smile softened. “Sure.”, she whispered at her phone as she answered that she would call him as soon as Alya was asleep. She hesitated sending the last part but got herself to send it anyways. [I miss you too, kitty.] “Mari!”, Alya bellowed from the bathroom door. “You’ve been in there way too long.” Marinette did not answer as she was way too absorbed in her own trail of thoughts. Just as Alya threatened to kick down the door, the blue haired girl snapped out of her dream. “Sorry, I’m coming out!” “You’re even worse than a jail guard.”, Marinette tried to joke as she plopped down on the bed next to her best friend. “Don’t put me on suicide watch.” The girl bit her lip and dug her nails in the cup of hot chocolate. “Mari?”, she asked the bluenette. “Please promise me to never do that again, okay? Or at least don’t keep it a secret from me.” The chocolate suddenly looked very interesting. “I never planned on doing it again, Alya.” Marinette stared at the cup like it contained the secrets of the universe. “I deeply regret ever thinking about it. It was just – I tried to understand him.” ‘I guess it didn’t went well’, she ended her sentence in her head. Marinette looked up to Alya but couldn’t hold eye-contact for long. “I won’t do it again. I purr-omise.” The pun just slipped from her lips without her awareness. Alya’s eyebrow rose. She did not believe Marinette, even if she trusted her with her own life – Alya still considered her lying. As if shaking her head could get the thought away she changed the topic. “Girl, did you just make a cat-pun?” The bluenette choked on her drink. “M-Maybe?” Alya had made several comments about Marinette’s constant texting with her ‘mysterious boyfriend’. But Alya respected her secret even if she was worried that Marinette would cut again just to understand him. That evening Alya rambled a lot just to keep her best friend distracted. She even considered calling Nino over but making out on Marinette’s bed just wasn’t an option. The girl’s watched movies and midnight had already passed as Alya finally fell asleep. Marinette closed the trap door to her balcony carefully and placed a plant on it so she would be warned if Alya was searching for her. She could only imagine Alya’s face if she found her on the balcony, crouched into a corner with a ladybug mask on her face. Fortunately she had charged her phone so she had about three hours to talk. Adrien picked up the video chat instantly. She didn’t even bother to say hello. “You, sir, are in so much trouble! Your bad puns are rubbing off on me!” Marinette pouted at the screen, tapping a finger against the glass to underline her words. Adrien had laughed. From the angle of his camera, Marinette assumed his phone was somewhere on his nightstand. He was wearing a suit with a fly and Marinette wanted to tell him so much how sexy he looked in that. “My puns aren’t bad, bugaboo!”, he corrected. “They’re claw-some!” The girl groaned at her phone charming another grin out of the boy. “What’s up with the suit at this unholy hour?”, she changed the topic. “Going to church to confess your sins?” “The sin that I’m looking paw-sitively good?”, he teased before tossing the fly aside. “I’ve been on another dinner of my father’s just until now.” His face hit the pillow and again there was this smile that couldn’t reach his eyes. “Keeping up the image of a good family.” Marinette returned the smile. She tilted her head and made a gesture as if she was stroking his head. “Yeah, I know that feel.”, she murmured. “Listen, kitty, I may not be able to drop by the next days.” Marinette bit her lip until it bled. She was so nervous about everything right now. “My best friend found out I am ... uhm, alone at home and, since I can’t be trusted alone, I am on constant watch and her family wants to adopt me.” She saw his smile fade. “What about akuma-attacks?”, Adrien asked, holding onto the last string that bound them. He had gotten used to the visits from his lady. “If an akuma attacks the city, I’ll be there in the split of a second.”, the hero ensued. Then she reminded who was sleeping right underneath her. Marinette lowered his voice and leaned over to the phone. “I’ll try to sneak out if she’s sleeping.”, she whispered. “I want to see you again as soon as possible and hug the sadness out of you, my little Chaton.” “Cats honor?” She put a hand above her heart. “Cats honor!” Adrien wanted to squeak because it really sounded like they were a couple and he would really really like it to be that way. Even Marinette realized it but both of them reminded themselves that they were ‘just friends’. They talked – actually Marinette did the talking. Distracting Chat from his suffering was her highest priority. Even if the air got quite cool at night. “My lady, are you purr-haps outside?” Marinette nodded and failed to hide the shiver that went through her whole body. “Can’t go back in. Would wake her up.” “You're shivering all over. Don't want you to catch a cold! Go back inside and get some sleep, bugaboo.”, Adrien said in a loving tone that tore Marinette’s heart apart. “I’m going to sleep too.” Marinette nodded in response. “Good night, my little kitten.” “Sleep well, bugaboo!” As soon as he hung up, the back of her head hit the wall. “Stupid.”, Marinette cursed. She felt herself falling for him. Not just falling – speed falling. The nicknames, his smile, his concern even if he his day had been worse. Marinette ripped off the mask, ignoring the pain that came with it. “I’m so stupid.” She sat there for about twenty minutes before sneaking into her room and curling up next to her best friend. Even in her sleep Alya seemed to sense when her best friend was sad. As Marinette started to sniffle, Alya’s arm slung around her and pulled her close. It had been one day and she already missed his touch. She wanted to hug him so damn bad. Even if she felt guilty the bluenette couldn’t help but imagine that it was her goofy partner hugging her instead of her best friend. Adrien kept looking at his phone – the black screen to be concrete. Somewhere deep in his heart he was happy because she called him her little kitten. But there was something that bothered him. Ladybug had cried. He had seen enough crying models to see if make-up was ruined by tears. He gritted his teeth until his jar hurt. “Why was she crying?”, he asked into the void he called his home. He pulled his knees up to his chest and hid his face in them. “Damn Plagg, I want to hug her.” |
So it was his turn to watch.
That is to say, Misfire had to convince Spinister to let him take over and keep an eye on Krok as their commanding officer continued to work towards recovery. Apparently, this sort of thing was easy to recover from with a proper medbay, but they don't have anywhere near anything that could be construed as proper anything, so it's taking awhile for Krok's internal repair to do most of the work. Spinister, oh-so-loyal Spinister, took it upon himself to be in the medbay every single minute of the day or night or whatever time it is. Which isn't really going to do anyone much good, standing around and hovering over an unconscious body and attempting to will him to waking up.
So Misfire, as stated before, had to convince him.
Convince as in talk a lot until Spinister looked confused enough to either want to walk out in a daze and try to sort his thoughts or punch Misfire. It was a fifty-fifty shot that ended up with the doctor muttering, staring at his hands, and wandering away from the medbay.
Pleased with himself, Misfire had sat down, leaving him to take care of things for now.
But sitting in silence? Not his style.
Misfire offers a complacent grin to Krok's offline frame. "Whaddaya say, Krok? You got plenty of gritty, edgy war stories to tell. Mind if I share a spell with you? Ahh, I didn't think so! Such a good listener. Well, this is about a roguishly handsome Decepticon, a super secret special agent, and the Necrobot..."
Even if Krok can't hear him, it's good for the head. It's good for his head to feel like everything is normal.
And he can pretend that Krok is giving him a stern look that just screams shut the hell up. A look Misfire's well memorized by now.
-=-=-
Sleep has been a rare thing for Fulcrum, especially after his stay at Styx. Nightmares are a constant, and he rarely feels restful, but he takes what he can. After his last visit to Styx, he can't determine how much has really improved other than he's not rolling off the berth and falling to the floor anymore in his unconscious flailing. Suffice it to say, it's not an easy thing for him.
Right now isn't any better. He wakes up to someone shaking him frantically, and his optics power on immediately. Fulcrum grabs onto whoever is waking him, and he finds himself face to face with Crankcase.
"What the hell--" Fulcrum starts, irritated.
"Grimlock's flipping out and if you don't do something, he's gonna burn this ship in the middle of space somehow," Crankcase cuts him off, five times more irritated.
With a sigh, Fulcrum determines that dealing with Grimlock's rampage is easier than Crankcase's moodiness. Not that he begrudges the pilot-slash-mechanic-slash-resident-grump for his behavior; he has a lot of reasons to feel the way he does, but Fulcrum almost feels more natural at handling the Dynobot these days. He nods, rising up onto his feet.
Immediately, Crankcase guides him down to the cargo bay. The closer they get, the stronger he can feel a rumble of Grimlock's weight stomping around and the tremor in the air of his roaring--
No. That's more like wailing. Fulcrum's heard Grimlock roar, and that isn't even a snarl to him.
"Spinister's been trying to put together some kind of tranqs to take him out with sometime ago, but I dunno if they'd even work or if they'd just accidentally kill him," Crankcase admits openly. Silently, Fulcrum is at least grateful that the others are trying to find other less violent ways of handling the Autobot other than shoot and hope for the best.
Fulcrum glances down the stairs as he sees Grimlock practically howling and punching the wall, then he shakes his head. "I got this," he assures.
Back on the planet where the Cerebnum was stored and the Dynobot had been reacting to the affects, Fulcrum had approached with more fear then. Now, he hurries down the stairs, more seriously concerned for Grimlock's well-being than his own. Over the time they've been traveling together, Fulcrum knows he considers Grimlock more like a friend than a hostage or leverage. Sure, Grimlock's kind of an infamous Decepticon killer and all, but that was then. Now? Now Grimlock's hurt in the mind in ways that he's still working out.
But he feels like they have a few things in common.
"Easy!" Fulcrum calls out. "Grimlock. Grimlock, look at me!"
The slamming of fists slows. Enormous dents rest on the wall of the cargo bay, but additional damage to the Weak Anthropic Principle is hardly surprising. Slowly, Grimlock turns his head to look at Fulcrum, huffing in a way that's less of a threat and more as a cautionary gesture.
"There we go. Keep looking at me." Carefully, the technician slips his hand to Grimlock's wrist, hoping the contact helps. The Dynobot flinches at first with a low rumble of his engine, but he seems to resign himself to the touch. "What's going on?"
Red optics dart around for a moment. It's almost hard to read briefly. On Spinister's face, it'd be paranoia. On Misfire's, it'd be nervousness equipped with a reluctant laugh. Here, for Grimlock, it's both fear and almost embarrassment.
"Mmm. Me Grimlock."
"I know. Take a moment to work out what you want to say," Fulcrum tries to assure him.
The Dynobot huffs again, his shoulders slumping. After a few seconds, he states, "Sleep. Me Grimlock, sleeping. Pictures show, in... Grimlock's head." Slowly, Grimlock touches his own helm. "Bad pictures. Moving pictures."
A nightmare.
Fulcrum offers a tiny smile. "You had a dream, buddy."
"Dream," Grimlock repeats the word, working out its meaning.
"Yeah. It wasn't real. But I know they're pretty scary. I have them sometimes, too. You can bet that I get scared." Fulcrum grins wryly, rubbing the back of his head. "But you gotta know that you're safe here. You're far away from anything that could make you scared. And I'm here, okay? So if you ever have a bad dream again, come find me instead of punching the ship."
"Bad dream," Grimlock murmurs, his optics dimming. Absently, he fingers trace over the dents in the wall, as if he's trying to work out how it happened and his own strength. As if such things had never really occurred to him. Eventually, he looks back down at Fulcrum. "Have bad dream again, me Grimlock find him Fulcrum?"
Fulcrum nods. "That's what friends do."
Abruptly, Grimlock crouches down to Fulcrum's height and gathers him up into his arms. This happened once before and Fulcrum had stiffened up in fear then; he's still startled now, but he settles far more quickly and pats the Dynobot's back, or at least what he can reach.
"Friend," Grimlock repeats, seeming to at least understand that much.
-=-=-
Sometimes the ship makes funny noises that he can't stand. Funny sounds make him twitch, and in the past it'd been Krok to assure him. Saying things that made sense, that noises sometimes happen to remind people of where they are and that things are working. It kind of helped then. It helped when Krok said things to clear his head. Right now, things are not so clear.
Spinister wanders, moving down the hall as he counts his fingers, mumbling softly to himself.
He pauses when he sees Dent on the bridge.
The Autobot seems okay, as far as Autobots go. He's not as dumb as Grimlock, but he's not as smart as Pharma. But Crankcase seems to kind of like him for some reason, and Spinister supposes that's good enough until Krok gives his opinion.
Spinister pauses, watching him work on the controls of the ship.
"Hey," Dent greets him, glancing over his shoulder. "You walk kind of lightly for a guy your size."
The comment doesn't make much sense to Spinister. "I walk how I walk."
"Right." Dent gives him a little wave. Spinister thinks maybe it's friendly.
The surgeon approaches and peers down at Dent, as if confused. "I thought only Crankcase and Krok touched the controls. What're you doing?"
"Oh! Well, I'm flying the ship. I mean, kind of. More like guiding it. Crankcase showed me a bit and I thought I'd just help out." A little awkward laugh escapes Dent. "I wasn't sure what else to do until we got to Colony Omicron."
Spinister supposes if Crankcase said it was okay, that's good enough until Krok wakes up. It's still really weird to let an Autobot run around, especially with the stupid thing with Pharma. But Grimlock's also kind of tolerable, but Spinister thought it was because he was stupid. Dent doesn't seem that stupid. Well, he is with the survival thing, but he seems nice enough.
Not very good about being totally honest, though.
"You should probably tell Crankcase," Spinister tells him bluntly.
That seems to startle Dent. "Huh?"
"About the thing. You know." Spinister makes a very vague gesture, as if that explains anything. "I did a medical examination on you, y'know. Before you woke up."
That seems to cause Dent's optics to widen. "O-oh."
"I don't really like secrets. They're dumb and when people find out they get all upset and then maybe people die sometimes. So you might wanna tell him. Cuz if you don't before Krok wakes up, I'm gonna have to tell Krok when he does."
"But it--" Dent hesitates, tapping his fingers together a bit nervously. "I'll. I'll keep that in mind. Thank you."
"Yeah." Spinister shrugs. "Whatever. Have fun kinda maybe flying the ship or something."
He turns and leaves the bridge. Maybe there's an off chance Krok woke up in the last twenty minutes. |
gallya: accidental pregnancy, Illya not knowing, gaby's morning sickness and symptoms show in the middle of a mission and was hiding it from Illya, possibly endanger the entire mission... curious how this would play out thankssss
She loses the contents of her stomach on the plane. She’s stuffed in the small bathroom like a sardine, sweat is has soaked into the collar of her dress and she can’t seem to catch her breath. The world in her little bathroom is spinning. A knock comes to the small panel door and Gaby jerks her head up for a moment, lips parting as she replies the toilet is occupied. She runs the sink and splashes her face before blotting it away just to open the door to a concerned looking American.
Solo leans back in the small juncture of the plane, he looks so tall in the small cabin that it’s a wonder he and Illya were able to fit on the plane at all.
“Solo,” She murmurs running the paper towel over her face before balling it up in her fist.
He glanced at her hand and then trailed those striking blue eyes up the shape of her arm to her face, raising a fine brow, “Feeling alright Gaby?”
“Fine,” She grounds out the words, catching her breath and shooting him a sugary sweet smile, “Just not feeling well, must be the breakfast you made,” and she leaves him there in the small cabin, heading back for the business class where Illya sat with his knees near his chest and a permanent pout pulling at his lips. He looked miserable when she sat down and he instantly moved up a bit, as if he could give her more room in the small plane.
“You alright for mission?” He whispered softly with his heavy accent hanging from his words. She swallowed softly and nodded, ticking days off in her head as Illya handed her a folder. Gaby flipped through the pages, fingers playing with the paperclip on the side, thumbing through the war criminal they would be bringing down in Madrid. A man by the name of Javier with a smile so sweet Gaby could feel her teeth aching from looking at the black and white photo. Her stomach churned softly and she shifted in her seat, sucking in a deep breath of the artificial air conditioning before spying her new identity.
“Oh joy, who is my lucky fiance?” The small German woman swung her gaze up and Illya’s cheeks went a soft pink color.
—-
Gaby’s dress is squeezing her too tight. She inhales and exhales slowly, pacing in front of the vanity that’s set in her shared room. Illya fixes his tie and watches her go back and forth, fingers pulling at the fabric. He adjusts his tie once more before smoothing his hand over the front of it, “You seem worried.” He mutters, watching her in the mirror before turning to face her.
She’s a work of art in a golden dress that shimmers every time she moves. The ring on her finger is gold and set with a champagne colored pearl that he has switched on to track her movements for the evening. Her hair is pulled back, tied high with curls framing her face and he hates to admit it but Solo has picked the better dress. Gaby pauses her pacing for just a moment before nodding, reaching up to fix the bangs she’s pushed out of place.
“I am fine.” She breathes carefully, hands stretching across her chest, fingers pulling at the fabric. “I think I’m being squeezed alive.”
His mouth ticks with the thought of a smile and he moves towards her. His suit is new and a deep dark blue that’s so dark it looks black. She watches as he closes the space between them and wraps an arm around her middle. He’s warm and inviting, pulling her into him with a gentle nudge. Gaby obliges him all too easily, they rarely get time together on missions. His hands trace the outline of her hips and he drags his hands up, palms running over her sides before sliding over the curve of the bustier under the dress. Gaby leans into the feel of him only to pull back at the sudden soreness against his hold. He watches her carefully, leaning down and running his warm lips over her temple, “I could take the dress off…”
It’s a rare moment indeed between them when he makes such a suggestion, voice low and full of honey thick sweetness. She flushes a soft shade of pink, wanting to pull on his tie. Her fingers smooth over his tie, playing with the idea of pulling him in for a kiss before the knock on the door comes. Illya presses a kiss to her cheek and leaves her to answer the door. Solo is there to pick up his wife for the evening.
Gaby sighs and takes his arm for the evening.
They make a stop at the front desk, Gaby needs extra towels and some toiletries, Solo calls for champagne upon their return.
The rest of the night goes smoothly. They make it into the art show which is filled with nothing but priceless stolen works of art that makes Solo’s fingers itch and Gaby’s stomach churn. She holds the same glass of wine all night as they take a turn about the room. Illya moves room to room with his searching gaze, muttering quietly into the communications link between them all that he’s found Javier and the game between the agents and the man begins.
—-
Javier is taken with Gaby. He flirts with her uncaring of her married status with the charming American. Gaby flirts back while the boys take on his security, learning the ins and outs of his museum and the storage below. She is careful not to drink, careful not to think on the dark thoughts that are eating at her subconscious. A thousand and one questions are building up in her pretty little head and she can barely contain them when they make it back to the hotel. She makes the taxi driver pull over halfway there so she can throw up in the street. When Solo looks at her, she mutters something of too much champagne and they move on.
The test is waiting on her when they make it to the front desk. She folds it up into the fresh towels and leaves Solo at the elevators.
The test says positive.
Gaby pulls the trash can close and kneels over it.
The world around her is slowly pulling apart at the seams.
—-
The champagne is open when she gets out of the bathroom, Solo passes her a glass but she simply slips off the golden wedding ring and asks Illya to help her out of the dress. The dress is tight, zipper just out of her reach and he agrees, following her into the bedroom that she and Solo share. He takes his time, dragging the zipper down the slope of her back and tracing the outline of it on her skin with a calloused finger. He peels the dress away and she steps out of it standing in white lingerie that he averts his eyes from.
“You’ve seen me naked my Russian friend.” She muses softly to him, her soft accent cutting through the room. He’s still the gentlemen between the three of them and looks away as she loses the bra and plucks one of Solo’s discarded shirts, buttoning it up. The white shirt drops to her thighs and he clears his throat, and she watches as he lowers his gaze to her legs before she crosses the distance and kisses him. It’s quick and hurried before she pulls back, “When we finish the mission, I’ll wear your shirt.”
She pulls back from him and leaves him for the sitting room, where Solo makes a comment of his clothes looking better on the floor and she pours that glass of champagne in his lap.
Gaby gets up countless times in the middle of the night. Sleep does not come easy.
—-
Javier is on to them.
He knew from the beginning. He is waiting on Gaby before taking a shot at her. The chase begins. Gaby chases him down, running through the halls of the art museum. Her heels are loud of the tile floor, echoing on the walls like gunshots.
Black spots fill her vision but she presses on, chasing Javier down a level and firing off a few shots at him. The muzzle of her gun flashes in the darkness of the museum, but the man shouts something at her. Gaby’s lungs can’t seem to hold enough air. A wave of nausea rolls through her belly and her knees knock together.
There are more black spots and her gun is suddenly too heavy in her hand.
Javier gets away, but not before taking a shot at her. The bullet grazes her shoulder, rips her dress and knocks her off kilter. Gaby hits the floor and the sudden impact steals the breath from her. She feels a heavy pull at her waist, her back aches heavily and she groans out a soft german curse.
—-
Solo is on to Javier with a high powered scope that sits atop of a new weapon U.N.C.L.E. is developing. He watches Gaby go down and warns Illya. The Russian leaves his post at the back entrance of the museum and goes for Gaby. There isn’t much blood, but she isn’t moving much. Her breathing is quick and shallow, sweat sparkles against her skin in the low security lighting of the museum.
“I missed him,” She manages to get the words out, “I had Javier and I missed him.”
Illya’s palm smooths over her bangs and he pushes them out of her face as he pulls her up onto his knees.
“Is okay,” He manages the words, fingers carefully prodding at her wound. Gaby winces and moves a hand down to her stomach, fingers gripping at the fabric of her dress, “Are you hit?”
He moves her hand off of her stomach, searching for a bloodstain, searching for another wound. She shakes her dark head and moans softly, “Something isn’t right.”
He watches as her hand smooths over her hip, pressing into her lower stomach and down the front of her dress. Confusion washes over the Russian giant and he frowns, “Gaby, how long?”
“Prague maybe?” She inhales sharply and a hysterical laugh leaves her lips, “Maybe even that last trip to London.”
“That was a month ago…. Oh,” He forms the words and Gaby nods.
“Oh, oh indeed my Russian friend.” She teases him in a moment like this, the disbelief washing over both of them. She makes another face, “Illya, something isn’t right.”
He nods and gathers her up. They call in an extraction, they call for backup for the first time in two years as a team. Gaby is pulled from Illya and taken to the infirmary. Two test and an exam later, everything will be fine but, Gaby is removed from the team.
Solo goes to America.
Illya retires in a small cottage off the outskirts of Venice. He buys it because it’s small, off of the grid, and best of all it has a yard for small feet to run free in. |
/\/\/\
They landed in London and a rather plain white car met them at the private airport's gate. Eggsy slid in after Harry and smiled at the older man. "Home?"
"I should report to Kingsman."
"No need," Merlin said into both of their ears.
Eggsy knew he, at least, needed to go into the offices but he wanted to get Harry home anyway – there was bags under the older man's eyes that were not normally there and he wanted to make sure Harry didn't overdo it when he'd only just got him home.
"Are you quite sure?" Harry asked.
"Positive," Merlin said firmly. "I shall see you both on Monday."
"Monday?" Harry said, voice dripping with disbelief.
"Monday," Merlin said. "The doctors will be in to check you over on Monday. They have signed off on your ability to come back to work as Arthur from the tests run in Kentucky but they want to see you Monday about when you should start."
"I could start now."
"Monday and not one day before," Merlin said firmly.
Harry agreed and turned to look out of the window for the ride towards his house.
"Galahad," Merlin continued in the younger man's ear. "I have had the documents that need signing delivered to Harry's house. The driver will wait for them. If they are returned today you may move your mother and sister in tomorrow."
"Thanks, Merlin."
Harry turned sharply and looked at Eggsy.
"The documents for me flat are at your house. If I give them to the driver I can go and get me mum sorted out in the house tomorrow."
"I see."
"We shall have Kingsman movers on hand," Merlin said. "I will be in touch tomorrow."
"Later, Merlin."
"Galahad, Arthur," Merlin said, signing off.
"I'm looking forward to getting them both out of Gary's flat."
"Understandably."
"She never should have taken up with that git."
"He is the father of Daisy."
"Only good thing he ever did."
"How do you propose to get her out of his house?"
"Only have to tell her we have somewhere else to be. She hates his guts to but he's connected, yeah? So, he's always had his boys around to make sure she don't go thinking she can leave. I tried to get her out before but I've never had much skill at keeping my nose clean. I ain't fucking up the Kingsman and I'm not letting him treat her like crap anymore. Neither of us deserve it."
"No, you do not."
Eggsy smiled. "So, I'll go and get her tomorrow."
"The Kingsman accommodations come fully furnished."
"Yeah, but Merlin said he'd send movers along anyway. We'll get her settled and I'll still be back for tea."
"Back for tea?" Harry asked, a note of surprise in his voice. "You still intend to stay with me?"
"Of course," Eggsy said with a smile.
Harry returned the smile weakly and turned back to the window.
Eggsy sighed silently – for a moment he had thought things were back to how they had been but the other man was still distant.
They arrived at Harry's house a few minutes later and Eggsy slipped out of the car to collect the bags.
"I can take my bag," Harry said.
"It's all good, I'm balanced."
Harry looked at him, nodded, and turned for the house.
Eggsy frowned and followed him in. There was an envelope with his name on it just inside the door and he put the bags down before he scooped it up. Harry immediately grabbed his bag and headed for the stairs.
"I will do that."
"There is no need," Harry said shortly and headed up the stairs.
Eggsy stared at his back as Harry walked stiffly up the stairs. He heard the car still running outside and walked into the kitchen for a pen to fill out his paperwork. He slipped the paperwork back into the envelope, pocketed the keys, and gave the envelope to the driver.
When he went back inside Harry was in the kitchen, boiling the kettle.
"Tea?"
"Sure, I suppose I'm gonna have to get used to drinking it if I'm going to be a gentleman and all."
"You are already a gentleman, Eggsy."
Eggsy shrugged.
"But I shall make you a cup of tea regardless."
"Thanks."
"Did you sign the papers?"
"Yeah, now I've got a place for Mum and Daisy."
"And yourself."
Eggsy shrugged. "No rush."
Harry turned his back on Eggsy and reached up to get two cups from the cupboard.
"You don't have to stay here. You have your own accommodation now, you could move in there."
"I would prefer to be here."
"I do not need looking after," Harry snapped as roughly as Eggsy thought he was capable.
"I know that. Jesus, the first time I met you, you beat the living shit out of a group of right fuckers with an umbrella. Even if the umbrella was tricked out that's massively badass. I know you don't need looking after. But you were shot in front of my face and I want to…I don't know, make sure you don't fucking disappear."
"Oh," Harry said, looking down at the tea cups.
"But, I can go someplace else if you want. I just wanted to be here to help if you needed it. I know you don't need looking after and even when you did it made no difference."
"No difference?"
Eggsy shrugged, knowing he'd said too much. "Nothing."
"Eggsy."
"It ain't nothing, Harry."
Harry nodded and turned back to the tea. "Shall we take tea in the sitting room?"
Eggsy shrugged. "Sure."
"I don't believe I have any food in the house to offer you."
"You do," Merlin said, in their ear.
"Want me to make us something?" Eggsy offered. "I…well, ya see, I like to cook."
Harry smiled. "I never learned, so yes, I would appreciate something to eat."
Eggsy smiled and walked towards the fridge.
Harry grabbed his arm. "Merlin, call if you wish to speak to us again tonight." Harry pulled his earbud out and pulled off his glasses. He held his hand out for Eggsy's and the younger man immediately removed them and dropped them in Harry's hand.
"What would you like to eat?" Eggsy asked, not moving away from Harry's hand on his arm.
"Eggsy," Harry said, running his hand down Eggsy's arm.
"Yeah?" Eggsy said, forcing his voice to be as normal as possible.
"Anything you like," Harry said, looking at Eggsy with an odd expression.
Eggsy licked his lips and nodded. "Okay."
Harry left Eggsy, dropping the tech in a drawer, and pulling out another pair of glasses.
"Mine are prescription," he offered walking over to Eggsy. "I might not be much of a chef but I can chop as needed."
"Excellent," Eggsy said, pulling an armful of fresh food from the fridge. "I'm making frittata."
"Sounds perfect."
Harry stood next to Eggsy at the counter, his elbow catching against the younger man's side every time he cut into the vegetables Eggsy had handed him. As he slid the dish into the oven Harry's hand landed between Eggsy's shoulder blades.
"Harry?"
"I do believe I understand now."
"Understand?" Eggsy asked, voice a little more uneven than he'd like.
"Turn around, Eggsy."
Eggsy turned, looking up at Harry.
Harry crowded Eggsy back into the cupboard next to his oven.
"Harry?" Eggsy questioned, trying to ignore the sudden jump in his heartbeat and hoping Harry wouldn't notice.
"Why did you stay with me in Kentucky?"
Eggsy licked his lips. "You were hurt."
"Why did you follow me to Kingsman that first day?" Harry asked, tilting his head closer to Eggsy.
"You're completely BAMF."
Harry smirked. "BAMF?"
"It's a thing," Eggsy said, mouth completely dry.
"And why are you making me frittata?" Harry said, thumb rubbing at Eggsy's hip.
"You're hungry…" Eggsy finished, voice cocking up high at the end.
Harry smiled down at him and pressed in close until Eggsy could feel the heat of the older man's breath on his cheek. "And why wouldn't me needing help have made a difference?"
Eggsy blinked slowly, looking up into Harry's eyes. He wanted nothing more than to take off Harry's glasses and snog the man senseless. "Because you would still be you even if you weren't a Kingsman."
Harry smiled and pressed close, his lips moving firmly against Eggsy's. Eggsy threw his arms around Harry and yanked him closer, swallowing a moan from the other man that had the hand on his hip tightening. Harry licked his way into Eggsy's mouth, nipping at his bottom lip as he pressed deeper. Eggsy groaned, rocking his hips as he slid his hand into Harry's soft hair. He traced the line of his scar and deepened the kiss wanting to be even closer to Harry.
Harry pulled back from the kiss, his glasses off-kilter on his nose. "I did believe it was just me," Harry said quietly.
"Nah, if you had have taken me someplace private I would have jumped you that first day."
Harry laughed. "Really?"
"That fucking suit and your face and what you did with the goddamn umbrella. Harry, I wanted to suck you off in the pub."
Harry looked down and stepped back but Eggsy wouldn't let him go.
"Harry…"
"We should move this into the sitting room."
Eggsy nodded, reaching for Harry's hand and tugging the man out of the kitchen.
Harry tugged him to a stop in the foyer. Eggsy turned to look at his with a cocked eyebrow – doubts pushing at him.
"Was it simply when you first met me?"
"Hell, Harry," Eggsy said, looking around with embarrassment – he didn't know how to even say how much he wanted. He knew he needed to say something though. "I wanna cook dinner with you and keep your icicle feet warm when we watch TV and shit."
Harry laughed.
"It's…" Eggsy started to defend.
Harry kissed Eggsy and pushed the younger man towards the stairs. "Harry?"
"Bed."
/\/\/\ |
Batman immediatly opens his connection to Oracle who begins searching for missing important figures in Gotham. Turns out the new district attorney, the mayor and Vicki Vale are missing. Of course.
“Black Bird I’m making you an offer.” Batman speaks once he’s done talking to Oracle. Tim looks at him suddenly wary and thrumming with energy at the same time. “There are three hostages and five of us not counting you or Red Hood. I am offering you the chance to accompany me in handling the Riddler tonight. I will take you back to my base, blindfolded, where we will work together to stop Riddler and save the hostages. You don’t have to agree to this.”
Tim doesn’t have to think long before speaking. “I would be stupid to say no. Blindfold away.” Which Batman, as always, takes enthusiastically. On the bright side he gets to see the inside of the Batmobile (It’s just as cool as he thought it would be) before Batman wraps dark fabric around his eyes and upper face like there’s no tomorrow. Tim knows better to complain, at least not yet when they’re just starting to get to know each other. If it were Steph or Pru though he’d be complaining nonstop. Ah friendship.
The Batmobile doesn’t jolt forward, no it glides forward quickly traveling at speeds in the high double digits. God what Tim would give to drive this.
Soon they’re at the Batcave (If only Batman knew Tim already knows everything.) Batman unwraps Tim’s mummified head and steps out once finished. Tim follows and stands in awe for a bit. It’s one thing to know your neighbor is your childhood hero and that they have a secret HQ under their house, it’s a completely different thing to see it. Bats screech from far away and it’s surprisingly well lit for it being so big. Stalagmites and stalactites throw shadows in the far reaches of the cave. Tim walks following Batman away from where the Batmobile is parked on a spacious flat stretch and up some small stairs towards a raised platform that looks like a training ring. Tim can see another area with what looks like gymnastic equipment. Above the training ring following more steps and rails is the mother load of a giant state of the art computer. Tim shivers upon seeing it. Then recoils at seeing a grouching Robin leaning next to it with crossed arms.
“Why is he here Batman?” Robin asks upon seeing that Batman has a guest.
“We could use the extra hands. Good to see you suited up as I asked.”
Robin makes a “tt” sound with his tongue. “I at least can follow orders, unline Hood.”
Tim resists the urge to add that more often than not capricious not enemies rather a team under a leader. But now doesn’t really seem like the time to say it so Tim swallows it down and joins Batman at the computer where he’s pulling up Riddler’s video and writing the riddle.
“I am a word of meanings three. Three ways of spelling me there be. The first is a smell, an odor if you will.The second is money, but not in a bill.The third is past tense, a way of passing things on or around . Can you tell me these words that have the same sound?” Tim reads out loud thinking. “Scent, cent, and sent.”
Batman nods. “What do smell, change, and mailing have in common?”
Tim is quite sure that Batman is testing him because it comes pretty easy. “Well Riddler said he had three people, the DA, the mayor, and Vicki Vale. And cent could refer to a bank while sent could refer to a post office or something. And scent could maybe be a perfume factory, or a comestic factory. I’ve heard Vicki Vale is prone to wearing copious amounts of fragrance.”
Again Batman nods and Tim feels a warming in his stomach. Then he feels a sinking when he hears another pair of footsteps.
“Well aren’t you a smart little bird?” Nightwing’s managed to get just behind Tim without him hearing and wow never doubt how well trained Nightwing is, even in the face of his terrible puns and jokes. “Nice job.”
Under the mask Tim flushes slightly at the outright approval. Considering Nightwing doesn’t go on the offensive or start questioning anyone Batman must have talked to them at some point about extending some trust to Black Bird. It seems like the most likely thing at least.
Batman searches perfume and cosmetic factories in Gotham and comes up with Lorans Facial and Body. “Nightwing I want you and Robin to go rescue Vale. be careful, we don’t where Riddler is going to be, or if he’s even going to be with any of his hostages.”
Robin doesn’t groan so much as make a hissing “tt” sound. “Doesn’t Robin belong with Batman?”
Batman continues typing while answering Robin. “Tonight Robin can learn to work outside of his regular team. I didn’t expect to hear you complain much about your partner.” Next on the computer is Gotham National Bank and the largest post office in the city. “The DA is at the post office, he’s the only one who’s close to sending anything. In Riddler’s eyes it would be him sending criminals to jail. The Mayor is at the bank.” Batman touches a hand to where his ears would be before speaking again. “Spoiler, Batgirl. I want you two to meet outside of the post office on fourty fourth street, then I want you to save the DA. Oracle is sending you further instructions to read on your way. Batman out.”
Nightwing and Robin leave on their own motorbikes. Batman gestures for Tim to get back in the Batmobile where he is once again wrapped like a modern day mummy before they leave.
Once they’ve reach about a block away from the bank Batman unwraps him. “Are you ready?”
Tim smiles back. “I’ve been waiting for something big all night. Aside from suddenly turning around to see Batman behind you and being taken to his lair of course.” Hmm, no laugh. One day. One day Tim will make Batman laugh, or at least scoff.
The two swing to the top of the building across from the bank and go over blue prints and plans before deciding on a route and beginning. It all takes less than three minutes, and that much because the building had been renovated last year and the plans were all over the place. Batman checks in with Oracle whose hacked the banks cameras.
“The mayor is on the first floor, middle of the room tied to a chair. Looks like seventeen or so hench men, none are relatively close to each other. I think they’re having a riddle contest. I honestly think they are. Riddler hires such nerds.”
In the end Batman and him decide to just smash through the windows. Even as the glass shatters around them Tim mourns the beautiful stained glass. Beautiful things tend not to last long in Gotham without learning to defend themselves. He supposes it’s Gotham’s own way of insuring her children are strong.
Tim rolls to the left of the mayor and Batman rolls to the right. He screams through the gag in his mouth at the sudden entrance. Same Mr. Mayor, same.
The Riddler’s henchmen stop their contest, god they are nerds, and start attacking Batman and Black Bird, who’ve had all night to get into the rhythm of each other. It’s not long until they’re all unconcious and Batman is untying the gag in the mayor’s mouth.
The mayor shudders out a breath as saliva drips from the piece of fabric. Gross. “He, he said he left something for you in one of the vaults. Vault M I think. Yes, M.” Black Bird helps the mayor calm down and breath while Batman goes and searches the vaults. He returns some minutes later with a sheet of paper in his hands.
Police sirens blare outside and bright flashing lights light up the bank. Batman looks at Tim then nods up and gives a hand signal. Tim follows him zooping to the rafters of the bank where they then sneak out of a window and zoom to the roof of the building across the street. Once there Batman reads what’s on the paper.
“I am a place where old and new connect. It looks like the beginning of another riddle. Nightwing, Spoiler, be on the lookout for slips of paper with pieces of a riddle on them. It looks like Riddler is sending us on a chase.”
“Should we go back to your cave? I honestly never thought I would say that, it sounds kind of ridiculous.”
“It would seem best.” The two descend and walk to the batmobile. Tim is getting tired of being blindfolded to the point where he could audition for king Tut, but you have to pay a price to work with heroes apparently.
Spoiler and Batgirl are already at the cave when they get there. Nightwing and Robin pull in on the batmobile’s heels.
“Almost beat you guys here!” Nightwing exclaims jumping off the bike. Robin grumbles about working with idiots and retreats to a corner in his customary stance of arms crossed and scowl on his face. Kids gonna get wrinkles before he’s thirty.
Spoiler jumps down in front of Tim. “So you’ve started working with the family then huh?”
“Did you find any riddle pieces?” Batman growls.
Batgirl and Nightwing hold up twin pieces at the same time. Batman collects them both and reads them out loud with his own slip.
“I am a place where old and new connect; made from items humanity collects’;where old walks among today; and rich mingle among the old way.”
Steph groans. “That sounds like something out of a fantasy novel. It’s worded so weird. Tell me I’m wrong.” She looks at Tim when she says this. He just smiles.
“It sounds like a museum. And there’s a visiting ancient Egypt exhibit in town. One of the selling points was a priceless meteorite necklace as part of it. Is it possible Riddler is going to try to steal it?”
Tim stiffens when Nightwing slides an arm around his shoulders and pulls him in close. “Can we keep him?” Nightwing asks Batman. Batman just gives him a look and Nightwing lets go. Tim does not loosen. Cass giggles and Steph snorts.
“He’s not exactly used to physical contact. Took forever to be able to give him a hug.” She explains.
“I think I’d like to be mummified and put in the batmobile now please.” Tim says turning to Batman. He thankfully takes pity on him. Tim doesn’t even mind the wall of a blindfold this time.
It feels like the only speeds the batmobile goes are ‘soon’ and ‘now’ because it never takes much time for them to reach their destination in the couple of times tonight Tim’s rode in it. They’re parked in fron of the exhibit hall hosting the Egyptian exhibit. No lights are on but most crooks tend to keep those off. The others are right behind them.
“Nightwing, Spoiler you enter from the back, Cass, Robin you from the north east. Black Bird and I will enter from the northwest.”
The team quickly get into positions and it’s not long before they’re in the hall in the rough shape of a large triangle. If you squinted your eyes and closed the left one that is. There’s a shape in the middle of the hall where the necklace is resting on an alarmed display case. As the vigilantes step across a line alarms go off and lights come on.
Riddler spreads his arms wide. “And the bat does it again! But whose this guest with you? Did the great detective have to get outside help? You dissapoint Batman!”
“Riddler, give up peacefully.” Batman intones.
Riddler tuts. “I don’t think you’re in any position to give orders.” Green clad henchmen step out behind them all, most grinning and swinging weapons. There are maybe thirty or fourty, it’s hard to tell when they blend like Zebra.
The heroes look at Batman who nods. Then hell breaks loose as they all pounce on the nearest green clad about to be toothless person. Riddler breaks the case and snatches the necklace inside before making a run for it. Tim sidesteps someone charging for him and elbows another in the face before running after Riddler.
Riddler makes it a courtyard outside the museum before Tim finally traps him.
“It’s not fair!” Riddler screams. “I finally get a chance at succeeding and then you show up! You’re not one of the main players! You ruined everything!”
Tim cocks his head to the side. “Sorry?” He questions. Riddler suprisingly doesn’t fight. He does however put down the necklace muttering about injustice as Tim ties his hands behind his back. Batman and Batgirl come out after him. Batman nods towards Riddler.
“Nicely done.” Tim again feels warm in his lower stomach. Maybe it’s indigestion? Or it could just be he’s not used to getting complemented.
Tim reaches an arm behind him and rubs his neck. “He didn’t really fight back or anything. Just kind of gave up and said it’s unfair that I was here. I don’t think that deserves a nicely done.”
Batgirl smiles and walks over to Riddler. She helps him up and walks him inside. Sirens sound in the distance. It won’t be long before the GCPD are here. Batman looks away then looks back at Tim.
“You should go. We’ll take care of the rest here. Maybe if we’re short on help again I’ll call you next time.”
Tim doesn’t have the chance to argue as Batman turns his back and walks back inside to explain to commissioner Gordon what happened. He fires his grappling gun and climbs the museums roof, using it to make it another taller building and so forth until he’s on a skyscraper. Tim smiles dumbly to himself as he looks down at Gotham traffic perched on a gargoyle. He feels both satisfied and confused at the nights events. |
At 2-2 Auston really thought they were going to win the series. Never mind that it was the first time the maple-leafs had made the playoffs for years and Auston finished the season as the top points scorer for the Leafs. They lost.
Everyone was subdued in the locker room afterwards. No chatting. No joking around. No camaraderie.
Mitch was careful to keep his hand clamped on the back of Auston's neck whenever the room was free of press. He didn't feel that weird floaty feeling with Mitch there he didn't feel in danger of slipping under. He felt heavy though. Like a weight had settled on his shoulders.
It's not he's never lost before. It's something you just had to get used to as a hockey player. But this was different. This was the NHL. The playoffs. He was the first overall pick. The supposed saviour of the franchise. And he couldn't get it done.
He knows it's a team sport. And he knows it's just his rookie year but there was a part of him that still hoped for the fairy tale ending. There was a part of him that had always been the best and kind of thought it might happen.
He doesn't really remember his interview. He doesn't really remember the shower or dressing afterwards. He barely remembers the drive home either. Both his parents and Mitch's had been at the game but they would understand Mitch taking Auston straight home. They would all understand that Mitch got what Auston was going through. That they needed a little bit of peace and quiet to lick their wounds and get over the ending of their season.
Getting up to the apartment is a blur but time seems to slow down once Mitch herds him into the bedroom. Mitch wordlessly begins to undress him. He peels off his jacket and hangs it on the back of a chair. He loosens Auston's tie and unbuttons his dress shirt one button at a time. He pulls Auston by the belt buckle towards him. He pauses with the undressing to run his hands over Auston's torso, round his shoulders and pulling him into an embrace. Auston can't help the soft moan escaping his lips. Mitch pulls back and pulls his belt out, undoes the button on his pants, pulling down the fly and slipping his hands into the back of his pants to push them down over his ass and hips and letting them fall to the floor.
Mitch guided Auston to the bed pulling back the covers and pushing Auston back gently until he was sat on the bed.
“We're not going to do anything tonight, Aus.”
Auston whined reaching out for Mitch and pulling him close. Auston smashed his face into Mitch's stomach inhaling deeply and Mitch just let him.
“I just don't want to feel anything anymore.”
Mitch stroked his hands through Auston's hair gently scratching his nails across his scalp.
“I know, baby, but this shouldn't be something that hurts you and if we did something now it could hurt you. And I won't do that.”
Auston paused. Mitch was always going to be looking out for him. He tilted his head up to look at Mitch and smiled shakily.
“Ok Mitch. Let's sleep.”
Auston let Mitch go, if only briefly, for him to strip down and get them both under the covers. He pulls Auston in so that Auston's head rested on Mitch's chest. Auston fell asleep wrapped in his dom's arms letting the soft drumming of his heartbeat lull him to sleep.
It wasn't until the next week that Mitch finally relented on not playing whilst in their playoffs hangover.
Auston woke up to an empty bed but the smell of bacon permeating the apartment. He pulled himself out of bed, pulls on whatever t-shirt is closest and staggers out into the kitchen rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He lays a kiss on Mitch's cheek and sits himself down at the breakfast bar. A mug of coffee is pushed in front of him.
“God, I love you.”
Auston inhales deeply as Mitch laughs. Auston barely even realises what he's said.
“I'll give you a pass on that one, it doesn't count if it's pre-coffee.”
Auston takes a sip or two of the heavenly dark coffee and looks up at Mitch carefully.
“I love you, Mitch.”
Mitch just stares at him.
“Don't burn my bacon though.”
Mitch just snorts and turns back to the stove.
“Love you too babe.”
It's on brand for Mitch and Auston just laughs to himself. Laughs he must emphasise not giggles. That's Mitch.
“So, I was thinking.”
“Don't hurt yourself.”
Mitch just plates up a stack of pancakes, bacon and maple syrup. He waits until Auston has his mouth full when Mitch pounces.
“I think we're ready for the fun stuff.”
Auston chokes, just a little.
“The real fun stuff.”
“Yeah.”
“We're going to have to talk about it aren't we?”
“Yep.”
Auston nods.
“I want you to do the rope thing.”
“The shibari?”
Auston shudders remembering the pictures Mitch had showed him back when he was first figuring out what he wanted. This was important, he knew, to Mitch for Auston to tell him what he wants.
“Anything else?”
“I want to be completely at your mercy and know that I trust you to do whatever you want.”
Mitch breathed out heavily. He bit at his lip assessing Auston carefully.
“I could blindfold you.”
“And gag?”
“If you want.”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, cool. I'd give you something to hold, if you need to stop or slow down or anything you let it go and I'll stop.”
“Cool. Can you tell me what to do as well. Like give me orders.”
Auston swallows, letting the thought wash over him. Mitch nods.
“Finish your food. Once you're done go back into the bedroom. Strip the bed. I want you knelt down, naked, on the floor.”
Mitch turns away then and Auston hurries through the last bites of his breakfast. Mitch whisks the plate away once he's finished and Auston pushes himself back hopping off the stool and padding his way back to the bedroom. Once in the bedroom he strips the duvet and top sheet off the bed folding them neatly into the corner. He pulls his t-shirt over his shoulders chucking it into the hamper along with his boxers. He drops to his knees in the middle of the room crossing his wrists behind his back and tucking his chin to his chest. He hears Mitch pottering around the kitchen and tries to slow down his breathing to pace himself.
The door creeks slightly as Mitch enters the room. He runs his hand over Auston's head tugging slightly at the hair on the back of Auston's head to lift his gaze to meet Mitch's.
“Hey, baby, you did a really good job for me. I'm going to blindfold you and gag you first. Then I'm going to truss you up and fuck you. Is that ok?”
“Yes, Mitch, please.”
Mitch ran a hand down Auston's cheek smiling softly at him. He takes a silk handkerchief out of his pocket running his fingers through the fluid-like fabric.
“I want you to keep this held in your fist for me. If you need to stop at any time just let go of it, ok? I can't check in with you once you're gagged and blindfold, ok.”
Auston nodded desperately offering his right hand to Mitch who placed the soft scarf gently into his hand. Auston clenched his fist around the fabric and put his hand back behind his back.
“You ready?”
Auston nods but Mitch pauses.
“Words please.”
“Yes, I'm ready Mitch, so ready.”
Mitch pulls out another piece of silk. This one a long black silk blindfold. He walks around Auston and places the material over his eyes and ties it securely behind his head. Auston feels his pulse rise as he tests his vision and finds it completely black. He feels Mitch's hand on his shoulders pausing there, squeezing, a moment of reassurance Mitch knew he would need.
“You're doing so good Aus, baby, you look amazing.”
“Open your mouth for me, baby.”
Auston let his mouth hang open as Mitch places the ball of the gag into his mouth and tightens the leather band around his head. The soft silicone of the ball isn't uncomfortable even as it stretches his mouth and the air holes through the ball don't restrict his breathing. He keeps his fist clenched tightly behind his back and lifts his head slightly seeking out Mitch by sound and guess work.
“Aus, baby, you have no idea how amazing you look for me right now. I wish I could take a picture and keep it forever.”
Auston can feel the arousal stir deep in the pit of his stomach.
“I'm going to tie you arms back first. I'll loop the rope around your chest as well. Then we'll move you to the bed and tie your legs as well.”
Auston doesn't feel anything for a few seconds which feel like an eternity before he feels the rope looped around the back of his neck, then under his arms, then back to the front. There are notes tied right over each nipple, as promised, pressing down on the sensitive bud as Mitch ties more knots at the back with a practiced ease. His arms are pulled in tight against his sides and tied in place. His forearms are bound together and the remaining rope tied off around his torso in what is surely a work of art more than just bondage. Mitch tests the knots thoroughly checking his circulation is unimpeded.
“Is the tension, ok? Nod if it is?”
Auston nods his head quickly unable to stifle the low moan as it escapes his throat. He can still feel the soft silk of the handkerchief in his fist and clenches it tighter at the thought of letting go.
Auston can feel Mitch continue to test his work. More out of admiration he suspects now than actual need. He alternates between pushing down, pulling and stroking at the bonds sending shockwaves through Auston's skin at every contact point.
He feels a sudden pressure pull at his back – the promised rope loop for manipulating Auston where Mitch wanted him. He wants him on the bed, that was the next step. Auston rises to his feet trusting Mitch to catch him if he stumbled. But he could do this, he wasn't a professional athlete for nothing, his balance and his core strength were good and strong and he could do this for his dom. He could be the perfect sub for Mitch.
He let Mitch guide him towards the bed coaxing each step with gentle encouragement until Auston was close enough to clamber onto the bed.
“Lie down, on you back, and I'll truss your legs. Then I'll get you to roll over and you'll be set.”
Auston can hear it in the gravel in Mitch's voice how much this is affecting him.
So Auston lies back and lets his legs bend at the knee planting his feet on the mattress. He waits. It feels like an eternity before Mitch is back touching him. Caressing his calfs, his thighs and up over his hips. He loops a length of rope around Auston's ankle trussing it up to his thigh continuing the pattern down his leg, first on one side and then the other and before he knew it Auston found himself completely constrained.
“You all good?”
Auston nods enthusiastically and lets Mitch manhandle him until he is arranged to Mitch's liking.
He's now knelt down, his legs tucked underneath him, with his torso leant fully over and his head touching the pillow albeit turned to one side. He's on display. There for Mitch to do with as he pleases. Auston's body is contorted in such a way that his dick is completely neglected. There's no way he's going to be getting any sort of friction on his hard and throbbing dick unless Mitch wants him too. Auston doesn't think he's ever come before without any sort of friction but he trusts Mitch. Mitch knows his boundaries and he knows what Auston needs.
Before Auston can worry too much he feels Mitch's hands return to his body running a soft hand over Auston's ass caressing and squeezing.
Auston already feels a little blurry at the edges in the most delicious way even before Mitch begins to stroke over Auston's hole. Auston feels like he blinks and suddenly Mitch is two fingers deep stroking brutally over Auston's prostate lighting him up from the inside. With no sight and no way to talk, fully bound and entirely at Mitch's mercy, Auston can't help but lose himself in the pure sensation of pleasure lighting him up in a way he's never felt before. If he could he'd tell Mitch to hurry up. That he was ready. That he didn't mind if the stretch burnt a little at first, he could take it. But he couldn't say a word so he let his eyes roll back as Mitch sunk a third finger inside him taking the time to apply extra lube keeping the slide easy and smooth. It wasn't long before Mitch began to withdraw his fingers and though everything in Auston's body was resisting he knew what came next was better. He felt the bed dip as Mitch knelt up, positioning himself behind Auston, he felt the soft dry sweep of Mitch's hand over his ass. And then he got what he really wanted, Mitch driving his dick deep into Auston in one long inexorable thrust until Auston felt like he was choking on it. He stayed still at first buried to the hilt, his thighs pressed against Auston's ass. He felt him lean over his body, pushing him impossibly deeper, only for Mitch to place a soft kiss between Auston's shoulder blades.
“I'm going to move now baby.”
Auston felt the tension on the loop of rope on his back, he pressed into it allowing himself to feel the pull as Mitch withdrew his hips until only the tip was left inside him holding his rim stretched wide.
“Fuck, Aus, baby, you're doing so good for me. So good. You're so pretty, bound, blindfolded and gagged for me. Just for me. Better than anything I ever fantasised.”
Mitch slowly thrusted back into him in a long slow glide setting a frustratingly delicious tempo Auston wasn't sure would be enough to get him there.
“I got you baby, you trust me don't you?”
Auston clenches his fist around the handkerchief tighter.
“Yeah, I see you, you trust me to look after you. Fucking beautiful. So fucking tight around my cock you have no idea how great you are baby.”
Mitch's dirty mouth has always turned him on but this, the only sense he has left, is almost too much. Mitch starts to speed up his thrusts putting real power behind them, even at end of season weight Mitch is lean but strong and Auston feels like electricity is coursing through his veins. The cloudiness on the edge of his vision is encroaching faster and he surrenders himself to the feeling.
“Come for me, baby, come now.”
And Auston does, letting the feeling crash through him as he comes completely on touch and almost as if just on command. He feels Mitch tense as he clenches around him before thrusting his hips twice more and spilling deep inside Auston. Just as it should be.
The cloudiness fully takes over then and Auston is barely aware of Mitch cutting his bonds, removing his gag and his blindfold and massaging his muscles. He knows Mitch feeds him some energy bar and a bottle of gatorade at some point but how long after he has no clue. He burrows into Mitch's chest purring softly and letting Mitch stroke through his hair and down his back. This is something he never thought he'd get to have. And it's better than he ever imagined.
Wednesday 21 June 2017
He's nervous, obviously, but trying not to show it. Flanked by his parents and his sisters he tries to stop his knee jiggling. He's written a speech which he really hopes he gets to read. No one has seen the final draft but his mom and dad know what he's going to do if he wins. He doesn't want to jinx it. The media have been hyping up the Laine vs Matthews thing since before the draft. But Mitch is pretty confident. He touches his fingers quickly to his neck unconsciously and catches his mother looking at him. She smiling proudly. He's not sure if it's about the hockey or the other thing.
They call his name.
He barely has a moment to react before he's on his feet hugging his parents and making his way up onto the stage. This is it. Deep breath.
He shakes hands accepts the trophy and finds himself in front of a microphone. This is it.
He loosens his shirt collar letting it fall open and bare his throat and the collar that adorned it. It wasn't a traditional leather collar like most collared subs wore. But there was no mistaking the chain and lock and what that meant.
This is it. Too late to back out now. Deep breath.
He finds Mitch in the audience, eyes wide and bugged out, jaw dropped.
“First off, congrats Zach, Patrick, you had unbelievable years, I mean you guys, you're great players. Fun to watch, fun to compete against. My family my parents thank you guys just for everything you've done for me just to get to this point wouldn't be here without you guys. The Toronto Maple Leafs, all my teammates... all my teammates, coaches, team management, staff for all the help all year long and last but not least the City of Toronto, Leafs nation you guys are the best fans in the league so thank you.
And I just have to say one more thing. To Mitch, my dom, none of this would have been possible without you. I haven't always wanted to admit that I needed anything, but I always need you. So thank you.” |
“I understand, she will be safe with me” Bruce exchanged a few more words before hanging up with a sigh, “Alfred, prepare four guest-rooms”
“Will it be for more or less than a week, sir?”
“Just a couple of days to properly heal, after that she will need protection from the entire world and there is only one place where that is possible”
~*~
The tired and pale looking woman that got out from the black car wasn’t the grinning and tanned young girl that Alfred remembered; life shaped her in horrible ways, betrayal torn her heart apart too many times and it seems that Master Bruce would no longer stand for it. Good.
“Ms. Anastasia” Alfred counted it as a win that she still reacted with a comical grimace at her full first name even if it was waned and barely a twist of the lips.
“Hi, Alfred” she didn’t even try to force a smile out and Alfred had to suppress his own scowl at the defeated picture she made.
“I take it that Dr. Banner and Mr. Parker will be arriving shortly?”
“Yeah…he…Bruce is taking the jet from Tokyo, Donnie is with him and Peter will just talk to his teachers before coming” nodding, the butler took the bags while Mr. Hogan carried a sleeping Royce Keener inside, her long blonde hair a mess and Harley Keener following tiredly behind.
~*~
“Toni will be safe there” that was the chant that Pepper was almost breathing for and all Rhodey could do was nod and try to get her to loosen up the grip she had on her StarkPad.
Ever since Carol managed to get a squad out to Siberia and retrieved a severely debilitated Toni Stark, Pepper’s hands didn’t stop shaking, so much to do and so many heads to roll, she almost snarled at the state her friend was in.
But Toni was Toni and before she was even fully healed, she finished Rhodey’s prosthetics, managed to push the first amends on the Accords and finished the last batch of projects from SI board, it wasn’t until the woman collapsed not only from exhaustion but also because of the absurd quantity of energy and nutrients that the Extremis was draining from her in order to heal her body that Pepper decided that enough was enough, Rhodey had a lot on his plate with physical therapy that left him heaving four times a week and still dealing with his situation in the Air Force since he was relatively back on his feet, Carol was working tirelessly on the Accords and still working for the Air Force, her new rank of Colonel barely gave her enough free time to sleep and eat. Who else was left?
Vision was still working on his own set of issues after what happened in the Compound and the airport and Peter was 16 fucking years old who almost lost the last family he had left.
But Tony had other family left, didn’t she? Maria Stark nee Carbonell had a cousin through her mother, Martha Wayne nee Kane and she also had a child, Bruce Wayne. Pepper managed to get the full story out of Rhodey.
Bruce Wayne and Toni were pretty close; he was almost five years older but by the time Toni skipped enough grades to get into MIT, Bruce was also accepted into Princeton. Maria Stark brought Toni to spend a week every other vacation in Wayne Manor even after Wayne’s parents died and they spent college years alternating between Princeton and Boston. They had a huge fight that not even Rhodey knew what it was about and they never spoke again, then Bruce went missing for years after graduating, no word from him until he showed up out of nowhere back on Gotham at 25 years old, they still had each other backs. Pepper knew that Toni bought many WE shares when Earl made the company public, one of her very first acts as SI’s CEO then Wayne bought them back from her.
Pepper also knew that Wayne and his influence was one of the very few things that allowed Rhodey to keep looking for Toni in Afghanistan and then he also bought a lot of SI shares when they dropped to hell level after Toni’s impromptu decision to stop manufacturing weapons so Toni could buy them back later that same year.
But that one big fight was 15 years ago, before Pepper met Tony but she was desperate enough to call him with Rhodey completely unsure about the whole thing behind her.
Yes, Bruce Wayne didn’t have a very good fame but to be fair, Toni didn’t either and if there was one thing that the media loved was to have someone to hate and Rhodey said that he trusted this guy even if his answer as to ‘why’ was a little iffy.
Whatever it was, Wayne was nothing but serious and solemn and…strangely well informed of the whole situation, Pepper frowned a little now that her heart wasn’t racing and her ears weren’t ringing.
After getting the blandest ‘ok’ Toni ever gave her for the plans Pepper laid out, her fists still shook at that, Pepper shipped her off with Happy, Harley and Royce. Pepper would give some excuse to Peter’s teachers and he would be off too, Dr. Banner was on his way back to the states with little Donnie and they would also go to Gotham, she shuddered, right, Gotham, the criminally insane infested city, thankfully Wayne said that they wouldn’t stay there for long, just enough for him to wrap things up with his own CEO. Rhodey have known and protected Toni long before Pepper was in the picture and if the Colonel has yet to say anything against what she was doing then Pepper knew that at least Toni will be with people that would look out for her.
~*~
Bruce Wayne stopped just shy of knocking at the door, Harley and Royce were already in their respective rooms, both passed out since it was almost 2 am when they got here but he knew that his cousin was still awake, years of experience with Toni, especially in college years taught him that, so he was shocked to the point of gawking that the 31 year old was in deep slumber, still in her grey matching suit and black stilettos, her hair still full of clips and twisted in a bun.
He paused at the door for a second before going in and taking off her shoes and carefully doing the same with the many hairclips holding her long threads in place and looked at Toni in person for the first time in a decade and a half. So much had changed. Not only their lives but they, Bruce Wayne and Toni Stark changed too much from the people they were before Batman and Iron Woman.
Toni would probably say that his personality didn’t change much and she would be right but now he had other reasons for his reticence, in that aspect, Toni changed a lot more. She was a lot more reserved now, kept her cards a lot closer to her chest, too many knives still sticking out of her back, her wounds still bleeding and yet she was still fighting, still trying to gain the approval of people so infinitely unworthy of her, perhaps not anymore right now. She was the prime example of ‘the more things change the more they remain the same’ maybe this whole nightmare is what she needed to get a little of the weigh off her shoulders.
He shook his head, only Toni to make him sound optimistic.
For now she needed a safe place, Bruce would wait until her godson gets here and her husband, he almost snorted, of course the infuriating girl would marry someone with the same name as him, not that he was narcissistic to the point of thinking that this was even a reason but he couldn’t help the thought that Toni probably took some amusement out of it.
He looked at her again. She was thinner, most of her muscle mass was gone, her cheekbones a little more pronounced, her tanned skin gone, shadows so dark under her eyes that looked more like the result of a punch than too many sleepless nights.
Bruce closed his eyes and still could remember the happier times before all those deaths, long before either of them tried to protect those that couldn’t protect themselves. After that night when he was 10…it hurt to even look at Aunt Maria, they didn’t look much alike, his mom and Aunt Maria, the same kindness reflected in differently light colored eyes and straight blonde hair and elegant way of carrying themselves, not much more than that but enough to make his heart twist painful every time he stared at her and then… she was also gone and Bruce wasn’t even in US to be there for Toni and he doubt that she ever fully forgave him for that, he didn’t. She was already raging mad that he just up and left without saying a word to her…or even Alfred for that matter.
All he could do now was try harder and be better and comfort himself with the thought that if she was so averse to the idea, Toni would never have come to Gotham and to Wayne Manor even if a little voice inside his head singsong that she wasn’t exactly in a state of mind to care much for where she was. |
Yuisu opened her eyes to a blue-tinted room that was lit by moonlight streaming in through the blinds. She didn’t feel tired at all, even though the sun wasn’t even up yet. Huh, I guess I’ll go ahead and get ready for work, since I’m awake, she thought, then she sat up and climbed out of bed carefully, so as to not disturb Haru.
Yuisu stripped off her pajamas, then she bent over to dig in her dresser for some panties when a voice came from behind her, in the bed.
“Dang, Yuisu, I am digging this view. Anyone ever tell you that you’ve got sexy hips?” It wasn’t Haru’s voice.
Yuisu froze, standing naked with one hand still in the underwear drawer. She turned her head very slowly and stammered, “M-M-Mara?”
Sure enough, Mara was on the bed, bright pink, smiling wide, and also naked. Of course, Yuisu had seen Mara naked before, whenever they bathed in the hot spring, but she could never get over just how young Mara looked. She’s so little and flat-chested, but she certainly acts like a sexually mature woman. And she’s apparently good in bed: I’ve heard Tsuen’s moans… Her face flushed red and Yuri-su started to smile.
No! Don’t get distracted. Yuisu stood upright and shook herself, trying to clear her head, but everything felt oddly fuzzy. There was something I was supposed to be doing… Or something that was wrong?
Before Yuisu could grasp that fleeting thought, Mara cried out, “Yep, it’s me, and I’m in a helluva pervy mood.” She pounced from the bed, her legs spread wide to embrace Yuisu. The lightweight arachne glomped Yuisu to the carpeted floor and smiled down at her, seductively blinking her six deep, black, alluring eyes.
Mara hugged her naked body tighter against Yuisu’s, rubbing her small breasts against Yuisu’s larger ones, and Yuisu finally gave in to the moment. She forgot all about getting ready for work, and all about Haru.
Ahh, nothing like a soak in the hot spring after a hard workout, Tsuen thought as she settled down into the steaming spring. The hot water immediately started to soothe the tense muscles in all four of her legs. Her upper body was out of the water, but that was just fine, since the night air was the perfect temperature for her bare skin.
Tsuen leaned forward against the side of the pool and propped her chin on her folded arms. She relaxed and closed her eyes, but then opened them again with a start. She had no idea how she hadn’t noticed earlier, but a little transparent pink blob was sitting up against the fence a few feet away, quivering slightly, as if breathing.
“Quess? Is that you?” Tsuen asked.
The slime jiggled again and dark pink eyes appeared on its surface. It blinked sleepily, then looked at Tsuen. In a tinny, chime-like voice, Little Quess said, “Oh, hiya Tsuey! I was sleepin’.”
Tsuen rocked her head back and forth on her arms and asked, “Do you always sleep in your tiny form?” Tsuen really adored Little Quess, but she hadn’t seen Quess in that form for quite a while.
“Yep! It’s easier to sleep like dis,” the cute little slime responded, then bounced up close to Tsuen, within arms’ reach.
“And do you usually sleep out here by the hot spring?” Tsuen asked.
The little pink slime looked around with wide eyes, realizing where she was for the first time. She answered, “Nope! But I’m happy to see Tsuey!”
Tsuen couldn’t help but smile. “I am happy to see you too. I guess we don’t really talk much, with my work schedule and you spending all your time in the cabin.” As Tsuen mentioned the cabin, she turned to look at it, barely visible behind the trees.
When she turned back, Quess had transformed to her big, feminine version. She was sprawled on the wooden walkway and looking back at Tsuen with an odd, alluring look. She seemed to be ‘wearing’ a bikini bottom, but there was nothing covering her sizable, gelatinous breasts.
Tsuen blushed and stammered, “Uh, hi, um, Quess…” She averted her eyes and added, “You’re not wearing a top, you know.”
Quess sat upright, kneeling in front of Tsuen, and whispered, “And you aren’t wearing anything at all… I have some catching up to do.” Just then, her bikini bottom disappeared into her glistening surface, giving Tsuen an eye-level view between Quess’s legs.
It’s totally normal for us to be naked here. It’s a hot spring, after all, Tsuen assured herself, still blushing furiously. And Quess is naturally flirty, so this is nothing new.
Her thoughts were cut off when Quess reached out and placed a cool, slick hand against Tsuen’s cheek. Slowly, tenderly, the hand slid down to Tsuen’s chin and lifted it, forcing eye contact.
“Come join me out here, Tsuen,” Quess said, beckoning Tsuen forward. She ran a tendril along Tsuen’s neck and shoulder and added, “I can sooth your muscles better than that hot water ever could, and I can do other things for you that you’ve never even imagined.”
Tsuen couldn’t tell whether it was Quess’s pheromones or something else, but her thoughts went all foggy and she heard herself saying, “Oh, Quess, that sounds wonderful.”
Haru scanned the unfamiliar room, taking in the tiny amount of moonlight into her wide, golden eyes. Ah, this is Iormu’s room. Though it’s much messier than I remember, she thought. Blankets and underwear were scattered around the room, including a very large bra hanging haphazardly off a lamp. It looked like a hurricane of lovemaking had swept into the room, and then decided to set up shop permanently.
The bed itself was empty, so Haru’s inquisitive mind jumped straight to the next mystery, Where’s Iormu? Just then, there was a noise at the door. Haru turned and watched as it opened.
Iormu slithered into the room with a towel wrapped around her head but nothing around her naked body. She flipped on the lights and stopped in place for a second when she saw Haru, then continued forward. “Hi, Haru. How are you?” she asked in her deep, sultry voice.
Haru shrugged her shoulders. “Alright, I guess. Not sure how I got here through.”
Iormu vigorously rubbed the towel into her wet hair, making her impossibly huge breasts bounce impressively. “Ah, bummer. I was hoping you had answers for me. I already took a shower earlier today, but all the sudden I found myself in the shower again with no memory of getting in.”
As Iormu leaned over and switched to drying the other side of her hair, her breasts shifted like wonderful soft pendulums, and Haru couldn’t take her eyes off them.
Iormu continued, “And then I come into my room, only to find you naked in here.”
Naked?! Haru looked down at herself for the first time and saw that she was indeed totally nude. A quick glance around the room didn’t find any of her clothes either. Judging by size, the underwear scattered everywhere was all Iormu’s.
“Oh, god, I’m sorry Iormu. I don’t know what happened! I don’t remember anything,” Haru rambled until the tip of Iormu’s tail flicked up and pressed against Haru’s lips, silencing her.
“Shush, Haru.” Iormu’s dark red eyes met Haru’s with a very intense, intimate look. After a moment, she said, “Something’s wrong here. I’m sure you feel it too, with your amazing senses.”
Haru thought for a second, then nodded and said, “Everything feels too soft, too perfect. Fuzzy around the edges.”
“Exactly.” Iormu tossed her head back to flip all over her damp hair out of her way. It cascaded down her back, reaching all the way to the deep purple scales at her generous hips. Then she casually mentioned, “Also, I feel a strange pressure drawing me to you. Like a firm hand pushing us together.”
Haru blushed a little. Her eyes kept drifting to Iormu’s lips, or her breasts, or her curvy hips. Haru forced her gaze away, then said, “I feel that too. It reminds me of when Quess used her pheromones on Yuisu.”
Iormu shook her head firmly. “No. This isn’t Quess. I know Quess. This is something else, and I want to find out what.”
She grabbed a t-shirt from the closet and tossed it to Haru. “Put that on, and I’ll get dressed too. Hopefully that reduces these cravings enough that we can focus on this mystery.”
Haru held up the shirt with her thumb-like digits and marveled at it. The purple t-shirt was so big that Haru could easily fit her wings through the sleeves and then wear it like a dress. She pulled it on, and then turned back to Iormu, who had put on a simple skirt and a t-shirt of her own.
Haru asked, “Where should we start, Iormu? You’re the master detective, after all.”
Iormu scratched her chin with a long black fingernail. “Hmm, I guess we should explore a little, see if this thing has a range.”
Following Iormu’s suggestion, they made their way outside and down toward the main house. Haru even took to the sky and flew around a little, but the odd feeling never faded.
Throughout the house, the same feeling persisted, but something else stood out more: no one else was there. No Yuisu, no Quess, not even the new girls Chione and Mimi. No one but Iormu and Haru, like the whole world was reserved just for them.
Haru was getting increasingly nervous. It was obvious something was wrong, but they weren’t any closer to understanding it than before.
Suddenly, Iormu called out, “Hey, Haru! Come take a look at this.”
Haru ran down the hall to where Iormu had opened Mara’s room and was looking inside. “What is it, Iormu?”
“Take a look for yourself.” Iormu gestured into the room.
Haru stepped in and immediately squinted and rubbed her eyes. The bedroom looked like Haru remembered it, from the first and only time she’d ever seen it, months ago. And just like her memory of that time, the room was blurry, literally. The plushies and the wall-scrolls in the room were all smudged and blurred beyond recognition.
“Ugh, it hurts my head just to look at it,” Haru said as she darted back out of the room and into the hallway.
Iormu watched Haru closely. “And what is your impression of it?”
“Well, it’s about as blurry as my memory of it. I’ve only been in Mara’s room once, and I don’t remember anything specific about it.”
Iormu nodded thoughtfully. “As I suspected. It seems that our surroundings are limited by our own memories, or at least a blending of both of ours.”
Haru tilted her head and wondered aloud, “So this isn’t reality? It’s built from our memories… like a dream.”
“Exactly!” Iormu cheered, her eyes alight with excitement. She really did love a good mystery, and this was shaping up nicely. “I think we may be in a dream, or at least I am. I don’t know whether you’re anything more than another memory come to life,” Iormu teased.
Haru glared at Iormu and said, “I’m pretty sure I’m real. Maybe it’s a shared dream? Is that a thing?”
Iormu chuckled, her bounteous breasts jiggling. “I’ve done a lot of sleeping in my life, and I’ve never had a shared dream before. But, let’s operate under the assumption that it is. What now?”
“There’s that thing about pinching yourself,” Haru suggested, then moved to pinch herself in the leg. She didn’t expect it to be very effective, thanks to only having a feathery thumb-like digit instead of real hands.
“Ouch! That hurt.” Haru looked down, then froze in shock. She had genuine, skin-covered, five-digit hands at the joint of each wing. “Uh, Iormu… I seem to have just dreamed up a pair of hands.”
Iormu slithered forward for a closer look. “Fascinating! I’ve heard of lucid dreaming and being able to take control of dreams, but I’ve never experienced it myself.” She scratched her chin in the thoughtful way she often did, then took the wooden pipe from her lips. She gestured with the pipe at Haru and said, “Hmm, this is a very interesting development, dear Haru.”
“Uh, Iormu? Where’d you get that pipe?” Haru’s eyes climbed higher and saw a checkered wool hat was now perched on Iormu’s head. “And that hat?”
“From the same place you got your hands, my dear harpy,” Iormu said, thoroughly enjoying herself now. She stuck the pipe back in the corner of her smiling mouth and said, “I’d say we’ve confirmed the dream theory. Now we just need to figure out ‘why us?’, and ‘why now?’”
Haru was a little preoccupied with her newfound hands and wasn’t paying any attention. She massaged her face for a moment, pinching her cheeks with her new fingers, then put both hands on her chest. She squeezed her boobs through the loose t-shirt and let out a gasp. They’re so soft and squeezable! No wonder Yuisu’s grabbing ‘em all the time.
Then Haru’s eyes went wide and settled on Iormu’s considerably larger breasts. Seemingly on their own, Haru’s hands reached out for the cushiony orbs, but Iormu’s tail flicked up and slapped them away.
Iormu gave Haru a stern look and said, “Focus, Haru. This dream may well be some sort of trap, set to bedevil or harm us.”
Bedevil? Speaking of devils… Haru thought, then said, “Say, Iormu? What do you know about Devils, or more specifically, Succubi?”
Before answering, Iormu adjusted her deerstalker hat. It was the spitting image of Sherlock Holmes’ famous cap. “I’m afraid they are rather outside the realm of my knowledge. Why?”
“Because Agent Will sent a succubus to stay here for a couple nights. She supposedly arrived today, or is it last night? I’m not sure what day it is. In any case, I haven’t met her yet,” Haru said.
Iormu lounged against her coiled tail like it was an armchair and puffed on her pipe. Rather than smelling like tobacco, the dream-pipe’s smoke smelled like old books and vanilla, a very pleasant and refined scent. “And you think the succubus may have something to do with our present predicament? That she cast a spell on us, perhaps?”
Haru nodded vigorously. “Yep, and it would explain that constant erotic feeling in the air.” Even now, Haru was having a hard time keeping her hands to herself, and she’d given up on reining in her roaming eyes. “Succubi are supposedly all about that kind of stuff.”
Iormu scratched at her chin in thought. “That is certainly an excellent hypothesis, Haru. However, if this is a magical dream, we are still no closer to escape than when we first arrived.”
“I don’t think the girl that Agent Will sent would want to hurt us. Maybe she causes erotic dreams naturally? It would explain why she couldn’t stay at the hotel or at Agent Will’s house.” Iormu nodded agreeably, and Haru continued, “So if the dream isn’t dangerous, we can just wait it out.”
Iormu got a sly look in her eyes and she said, “If we’re going to wait out the night, we might as well spend it doing something interesting.”
Haru blinked several times. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve seen how you’ve been staring at me Haru. I do like being appreciated, and I’d love to return the favor. It’s just a dream, so why not experiment a little?”
“Would that be alright with…” Haru couldn’t find the name to finish the sentence. Does Iormu even have a girlfriend? For that matter, do I?
The line of thought was washed away in a wave of attraction and Haru found herself saying, “So, I heard the tip of your tail is an erogenous zone…”
Yuisu stepped into the kitchen to find an odd trio already sitting at the table. Tsuen was uncharacteristically drinking coffee with her breakfast, while Mara was half-asleep and nibbling a sausage patty. Quess was sipping at a tall glass of apple juice and she looked rather frazzled and overwhelmed.
Yuisu rubbed her eyes and made her way to the coffee machine. She wanted to ask what the three girls were up to, particularly Mara, since she was rarely up so early, but Yuisu was too tired to really care. Maybe after I get some caffeine in my veins…
When Yuisu sat down at the table with her own very black coffee, Tsuen spoke up. “You don’t look so good, Yuisu.”
Yuisu said, “I didn’t sleep well because of a crazy dream.”
In unison, three voices sighed and said, “Me too.”
All four girls’ eyes went wide and the glanced at each other suspiciously. Mara broke the silence by mumbling, “Yuisu was in my dream.”
Yuisu blushed red and blurted, “Wait a minute… you were in my dream, Mara!”
Quess and Tsuen glanced at each other for a second, but Tsuen looked away shyly.
Yuisu noticed and asked, “Were you two in each other’s dreams too?”
Tsuen whispered, “With the hot spring?”
Quess nodded. “With the hot spring.”
Mara glanced suspiciously from Tsuen to Quess and back. “Wait a minute… did you two have a sexy shared dream? Without me?”
Tsuen opened her mouth but before she could reply, Yuisu harshly whispered at Mara, “If your dream was the same as mine, you have no right to be jealous.”
Mara cringed, closing all six eyes. “Oof, yeah, that’s fair.” She looked at Tsuen and said, “I’m sorry, Tsuen. I did sexy things in my dream without you.”
Tsuen blushed and mumbled, “It’s okay. I’m sorry too…”
Just then, Haru strode into the room, looking a little tired, but otherwise alert. She called out, “You guys had shared dreams too? Pretty crazy, right?”
Yuisu nodded sleepily, then her eyes went wide. If us four were in each other’s dreams, then who was in Haru’s?
Haru stepped up behind Yuisu, crouched down, and snuggled her cheek. Then, as if she had read Yuisu’s thoughts, she whispered, “I got Iormu. It was amazing. You?”
After a moment of envy, Yuisu whispered back, “Mara. I learned some new techniques too.”
Tsuen was trying hard to ignore the lewd whispers, and she finally interrupted, “You sound like you know something, Haru. What’s going on?”
Haru stood up, her wings still wrapped around the sitting Yuisu. “Me and Iormu did some detective work, both in and out of the dream. Turns out, we have our three newest arrivals to thanks for last night’s little adventures.”
When the other girls stared in mild confusion, Haru continued, “According to Chione, who I only slightly interrogated, Chione, Mimi, and that visiting Succubus, Lethe, got drunk on some stolen booze. Then they decided to thank us for letting them stay here by having Lethe give out some sexy dreams.”
Haru looked around at the sleep-deprived faces in the kitchen, then she chuckled and said, “As I think you all can deduce, she messed up the pairings. Hopefully the dreams were still fun?”
Mara nodded a little too eagerly, Tsuen turned red again, and Quess just wore a wide, satisfied smile. Yuisu nodded distractedly, but she was watching Quess.
Quess was glossier than normal, and her pink coloration seemed more vivid too. I guess she just got a really filling meal last night, with all those erotic dreams in the house? |
Terry heads out a little after noon the next day. Not to head home, of course, but to make a quick stop to pick up some last minute supplies. Stores are not likely to stay open long for Christmas Eve, so he'll want to get this out of the way sooner rather than later. Not to mention, he'd also rather not deal with questions from Mike about why he's buying groceries when he's supposedly low on cash. It's not like he's getting much, though — just enough for Edd. He's sure as shit not bringing the kid back to the cul-de-sac with him (especially not after that night), so he'll need to make sure he has everything he needs to spend the day alone and cooped up in the bathroom. He sticks with foods that can be prepared without heat and don't require refrigeration. Cereal — his folks had some Chunky Puffs in the pantry back home, meaning Eddy liked them, so he imagines it's probably the same with Edd — potato chips and some already popped popcorn in a bag. Just some snacks Edd can indulge in while he's gone. It'll be his own little Christmas feast. Just goes to show how fuckin' generous I am. He also adds a few more cans of chicken soup to the purchase — just to make sure he has enough — and grabs a small case of bottled water.
Before heading home, he stops off at the sex shop and peruses their selection of magazines. If there's one thing Eddy always clambered for, it was his collection of porn. So this'll be enough of a gift for the brat. He picks out a couple that would be most titillating to the little twerp and asks the cashier to give him a brown paper bag for him to keep them in. Like hell he's gonna bother wrapping these. Hell, he's not even gonna give them to Eddy while their parents are in the room. He's already putting up with his old man being an asshole, he's not gonna let him bitch and moan about giving his brother porn…again. And, to save face, he decides to just give Eddy the jawbreaker he was going to give to Edd. After all, Edd refused it and it might assuage his parents a little.
When he returns to the trailer, he sneaks the groceries inside and leaves them on the kitchen table. No sense in giving them to Edd now. He'll take care of that tomorrow. In the meantime, though, he does go to check in on him, grabbing a couple of towels from the closet on the way. As he walks in, he notices that the water Edd's made a habit of sitting in to keep warm is gone, leaving the boy shivering in the empty tub instead. He grimaces a bit.
"Y'know," Terry snarls as he closes the door and locks it behind him, "you'd start to actually feel better if you'd stop bein' so damn stubborn."
Edd doesn't respond, keeping his head bowed. Rolling his eyes, Terry storms over to him. As he leans forward, reaching for the scrawny, quivering arm, Edd finally glances at him. Eyes wide, he tries to scramble away to avoid being grabbed again. But, of course, he doesn't make it far before Terry manages to catch him and hoist him out of the tub.
"Let go of me!" Edd snaps, struggling to pull his arm away as he beats his tiny fists against Terry's chest and arms, "Take your hands off of me!"
With something between a grimace and a wince, Terry smacks Edd sharply to make him cease his struggling for a moment. When he's distracted enough, Terry throws one of the towels over him, rubbing his arms up and down to both dry him off and warm him up. Edd tries to jerk away once or twice, but, as his chilled skin begins to soak in the warmth, he reluctantly gives in. He bows his head, whimpering and whining in a pitiful attempt to keep fighting back despite his body leaning into Terry's chest.
"That's better," Terry coos smugly, "Now, I'm gonna go make you a nice bowl o' soup. And while I do that, you're gonna dry off with these. Got it?"
He hears Edd huff in disgust, but he gives a tentative nod. The temptation of warmth and hot food seems to be enough to make him cooperate at least a little. Gently pushing Edd off of him, Terry shoves the other towel into his hands before leaving the room again.
Back to the kitchen, he procures one of the cans of soup and a pot to cook it in. After setting everything up on the stove, he sits down at the table to wait for it to start boiling. It's a small victory, getting Edd to take the towels, but it's a start. At least he won't be cold anymore. And hey, now that things have calmed down a bit…maybe he can try getting something else out of him?
When the meal is ready, he pours a bowl and takes it to the bathroom, stopping at his bedroom real quick to grab his robe. By the time Terry returns to the bathroom, Edd is looking himself over dejectedly in the mirror and has wrapped one of the towels around his waist and is holding it tightly closed around himself while the other is draped over his shoulders. As Terry walks in, he pulls himself away from the sink, his eyes locked on the bowl. After locking the door behind him, however, Terry hands Edd the robe.
"Put this on," he commands gently, "Then you can eat."
Edd's shoulders slump a bit as he obliges begrudgingly, the towel falling unhindered to the floor. Once he has the oversized robe around his shoulders, he's handed the bowl. Terry doesn't protest as he then scurries over to the corner of the bathroom — putting as much space between them as possible. Rather than follow, Terry takes a seat near the door, leaning against it and making his message clear without a single word; you ain't gettin' out again.
He watches Edd eat for a while. Every now and then, he has to pause and sneeze, maybe throw in a cough as it suddenly rips from him. And, after blowing his nose with the toilet paper, he returns to his meal. He's just now noticing that his cute little button nose is red; rubbed raw from using the toilet paper so much over the past few days. It's both adorable and sad as fuck at the same time.
In this moment of calm, he decides to try talking.
"Why didn't you scream?" he asks, watching the boy carefully.
Holding the spoon just above the bowl, Edd pauses. His eyes shift around bit before he brings the spoon to his lips, ignoring the question.
"That night you tried to leave me," Terry elaborates through his teeth, "Why didn't you scream?"
Swallowing, Edd sets the spoon down into the bowl and then the bowl on the floor, glaring down at it.
"Because I wanted to get as far away from you as possible," he spits back, glancing at him for a moment with a hateful look, "I knew that if I made too much noise, you would've found me. Besides…" He sighs, idly stirring the broth as he rests his chin in his hand, "no one was around to hear me anyway. So I intended to get as far away as I could…"
No one was around…? He must not have noticed the other trailers. Or maybe he didn't think anyone was in them? And the chloroform kept him out long enough that he wouldn't have heard his coworkers coming to investigate. Eyes narrowing, Terry sits up a little straighter. He doesn't want to be too invasive. Sure, Edd's giving him plenty of answers, but he's gotta be careful with what he asks. Hmm…There is one thing that's been bothering him…
"Why'd you take my underwear?"
A dark pink blush spreads across Edd's face.
"Y-You've not given me much of anything to wear since you brought me here…" he mumbles, his shoulders hunched, "You said it was almost Christmas…so I anticipated it would be cold. I needed to put something on to cover my…" He stammers a bit. "T-To protect myself against the cold."
"Why just the underwear, then?" Terry nearly scoffs, "Why not socks or somethin' for your little feet?"
"All of your clothing is far too big for me," Edd retorts with confidence and a bit of a snarl, "I couldn't risk tripping over my own feet because your socks would slip off. And besides, I just needed to wear the bare minimum before going outside."
So letting him blow off a little steam will get his little gums a-flappin', eh? Alright. And, of course, his little germaphobic ass couldn't have taken the unwashed boxers from the floor. Had to go rooting through his drawers for a fresh pair. That was probably mistake number one. Well, that or not putting the cuffs on him…Hmm…
"Why not try putting the cuffs on me?" he asks.
Glaring at him, Edd explains; "I feared the risk of waking you in the process. The struggle to pull myself out from beneath your oversized carcass was a difficult enough feat to manage without waking you. I wasn't about to risk my luck with anything more." Turning away again, he picks up his spoon. "As long as I could get out, I believed I could find help before you came after me."
"So if you were trying so damn hard to run," Terry asks, his brow cocked in suspicion, "and were so focused on running to try stopping me, then why did you stop to break into the food trailer?"
Edd's shoulders fall; "Because I was beginning to feel too cold to run. Therefore, when I managed to get far enough away that I lost you among the other stands and…a-and rides, I ran to the nearest…doors in my proximity. Anywh—"
He's interrupted by a violent sneeze and drops the spoon into the bowl with a groan. Taking a few breaths, he continues.
"Anywhere that might have had some sort of insulation," he continues, grabbing more toilet paper and blowing his nose, "I entered the first one that would open and I decided that the best course of action would be to wait until the cold in my body faded and start running again when I knew you weren't around." He grits his teeth. "Obviously I didn't get that far…"
Terry's lip curls into a sneer; "Damn right, you didn't."
Edd begins to shrink in on himself, his body shaking a bit. He's bundled up in the robe, so he can't be cold…
"Why are you doing this to me?" he asks, his fingers curling into a fist around the used tissue, "What did I do to you to make you take me from my home? My family? My friends?"
Terry scoffs, leaning back against the wall again. This again? Fine. If it keeps Edd talking, he'll indulge this bullshit.
"Don't give me that, Princess," he retorts, "I saved you from that shitty home and those shitty parents and those shitty friends."
Shoving the bowl aside, Edd bolts to his feet. Even in anger, it seems he's averse to purposefully making a mess (particularly in a place he's likely going to be stuck in for a while).
"Do not talk about them like that!" he snaps, "I had a wonderful home, and loving parents, and the best friends anyone could ever ask for!"
"Bullshit," Terry grumbles, rolling his eyes.
"Stop that!" Edd cries, tears in his eyes that he refuses to acknowledge, "You know nothing about my life! You know nothing about me!"
He's halted from his tirade by a coughing fit that causes his entire body to convulse. During this time, Terry debates for a moment whether or not he should stand. It'd be hella intimidating. Make Edd think he's going to be beaten again for the things he's saying. But, ultimately, he decides against it, instead staring back at Edd with a knowing, yet threatening look.
"I know more than you think, sweetheart," he replies calmly, wracking his brain for every little tidbit Eddy's shared with him over the past year and a half, "I know you're smart. You get straight A's and have won every spelling bee for the past…what was it? Six? Seven years? Eh, let's just say 'since you could start bein' in them'. I know you can play an impossible-lookin' instrument that you fuckin' hate, but you play it anyway and do it perfectly when your shitty friends ask you to and maybe when your parents tell you to."
Edd looks surprised, faltering a bit and fidgeting with the sleeves of the robe. Damn right he's uncomfortable with this. Terry fights back the smirk as he continues.
"But with all your smarts and all your talents…" he lists, "I know you got no confidence in yourself at all. You gotta study night n' day cuz you don't believe you're worth anything without your intelligence. That's what they all make you think, isn't it? That you're worthless unless you're smart. That's why those friends of yours kept you around, ain't it? Cuz they could use you for whatever stupid shit they were getting into."
Edd tries to glare at him, but his words — whether he believes them or not — are beginning to hurt him. He's finally striking the right nerve.
"And I know that your parents only had you cuz they wanted a little slave to do all the shit they outright refused to," Terry nearly snarls, leaning forward a bit, "I know that they didn't give enough of a shit about you to even come home to eat with you. Hell, I bet they never came home for Christmas, either. Or even your birthday. They encouraged you just enough so you wouldn't notice their neglect, but they don't really care. They were just puttin' on an act to make you think they gave half a shit when you would succeed at anything. And, hey, it's easier to brag about a little prodigy than to bitch about your burden, right? So they'd demand perfection at school to keep up appearances."
Okay, that one stung. Edd's starting to back down a little, kneeling back down on the floor. His shaking hand rises to his face, inching around his hairline where his hair naturally parts around his scar.
"What's the matter, Princess?" Terry asks smugly, "Does it hurt that much to hear the truth?"
"Stop it…" Edd whimpers, bringing his other hand up so he can cover both his ears.
"I told you, I know more than you think."
Edd doesn't answer that as he clutches his head, bowing further as he starts to weep softly to himself. Mumbling mostly incoherent words and throwing in timid claims that it's not true. Terry watches him carefully. It's a little hard to see him like this. Dammit, he's supposed to be giving him the comfort those selfish assholes never did. But he's got to learn to accept this. Only then will he be able to distance himself from them and turn to Terry for the love and affection they denied him.
"You really think I'm wrong?" he asks after a moment.
Edd glances up at him through his tears, his brow furrowing in a pitiful attempt to glare. He nods.
"I-I know you are!" he whimpers, wiping his tears away on the sleeve of the robe, "M-Mother and Father loved me dearly! I know they did!"
"Really?" Terry smirks a bit, "Then answer me this, Princess; when's the last time they ever said they loved you?" Edd starts to answer, so Terry adds, "Aside from the bullshit chore lists they'd leave you — those little sticky notes full of shit they're too lazy or too busy to do themselves? I mean when's the last time you heard them say it?"
Edd falters again.
"When's the last time they stayed home with you when you were sick?" Terry presses, "When's the last time they joined you for dinner? When's the last time they bothered to show any interest in your life at all?"
Bowing his head, Edd doesn't answer, thinking carefully. Pleased, Terry sits back with a satisfied smirk.
"Face it, sweetheart," he purrs, "They don't love you. No one does." His twisted smirk grows wider. "'Cept me."
Raising his head again, Edd instantly goes back to glaring at him.
"Now there's no doubt at all that you're lying," he nearly growls.
Terry arches his brow at him, daring him to elaborate. And, of course, he does.
"You don't care about me in the slightest," he spits, "The way you've treated me…You don't do those things to someone you 'love'." He holds his head and hides his face with his hands. "You keep saying that word and forcing me to use it, yet you have no understanding of its meaning."
Terry's incensed but a moment before he shoots the boy a knowing smirk.
"Want me to prove it?"
Edd scoffs, turning away and crossing his arms; "If you're referring to those wretched carnal acts that you so relish forcing upon me, then my answer is an emphatic 'no'. There's no affection in those…" He shudders in disgust. "activities. Just your incessant need to indulge in your own depravity through sexual release. It would prove nothing."
He wants to let himself get mad at that — the fuck does he know?! — but he manages to keep his cool. Instead, he forces a laugh.
"Don't act like you don't fuckin' love every second of it," he snickers, "I know all the best ways to touch you to make you feel so damn good."
With a huff, Edd glares over his shoulder.
"The way my body reacts to stimuli is no indication of my own enjoyment," he retorts, "I detest every wretched moment that your filthy hands are upon me."
"Bullshit," Terry laughs, "I make you see heaven."
Hunching his shoulders, Edd turns away again.
"Is that all you've come here to do?" he grumbles, "To poison an already distasteful conversation with your vulgarities?"
"Course not," Terry shrugs back, "I'm here to make sure you eat. This 'thrilling' conversation is just a bonus."
Edd groans a bit, setting the bowl of soup behind him, closer to Terry: "In that case, you can kindly take your leave. Conversing with you has made me lose my appetite."
"Well then, I'll just get nice and comfy," Terry counters, drawing Edd to glance at him again, "Cuz I ain't leavin' till you finish your dinner."
With a huff, Edd snatches the bowl up again and begins slurping down his soup with a grimace and a glare, forsaking any semblance of manners. When he lowers the bowl again, it's empty (save for perhaps a few stubborn drops) and he shoves it along the floor towards Terry. Shrugging, Terry rises to his feet and grabs the bowl and the discarded spoon as well.
"Good boy," he sneers.
Choosing to leave it at that, he carries the tableware out of the bathroom, leaving the towels on the floor. At least he ate. At least he'll be warm. Maybe he won't get worse…
After dropping the dishes off in the sink, he decides to step out for a smoke and pulls on his shoes and coat. Oh shit, but first…Grabbing his keys from the table, he steps out into the cold night and heads straight for his van. Hopping in, he starts it up quickly and exits through the open fence to park just on the outside of it. Might make disappearing for the day a little easier?
At least the snow isn't very deep as he returns to his trailer to enjoy his cigarette. He gazes around, feeling a sense of calm begin to creep up on him. As unsettling as the silence of the empty park can feel, it's oddly soothing as well. Or perhaps it's just a nice break from the thick tension inside his trailer? Either way, the cigarette provides him a nice distraction and the silence sets just the right mood to calm him.
Footsteps approach on his left, drawing his attention to where Mike is walking towards him. Taking a quick puff, he begins with as pleasant a greeting as he can muster.
"What brings you out here?" he asks, flicking his ashes away.
Mike holds up his own cigarette and lighter and stands beside him.
"Thought I'd get some fresh air n' have a smoke."
"Any reason you're over here, though?"
With a shrug, Mike pulls a cigarette from it's pack.
"Figured I'd get in some friendly conversation," he suggests.
Something about his tone sounds a little off…Terry takes a long drag off his cigarette, exhaling the smoke slowly.
"Alright…" he shrugs, glancing at him out of the corner of his eyes, "Got any plans for tomorrow?"
"Fuck no," Mike replies, as he struggles to click the lighter for a moment, "No family to go visit or who'll come visit me. Just gonna take the day off."
"Oh yeah?" Terry shoots him a smirk, "That mean you won't need me for anything tomorrow?"
"No, why?" Mike turns to him, "You got plans or somethin'?"
"Not really. But that's the point. I wanna do a whole lot of jack shit tomorrow, not a bunch of bullshit around the park."
Mike shrugs; "I can get behind that. You can consider it my Christmas gift."
Terry rolls his eyes; "Oh, so generous…"
Furrowing his brow, Mike nods towards a spot near Terry's trailer.
"You move your van?"
"Hmm?" Terry follows his gaze, caught off guard for a moment before the question catches up with him, "Oh…yeah, I did. I don't like keepin' it in the park all the time. Left it outside the fence."
"Isn't it more convenient to keep it near the trailer?"
"Yeah, but where the fuck else do I need to be?"
Mike looks to accept that with a shrug, returning his attention to his cigarette. Yeah, it's a lie, but his boss doesn't need to know he'll be out of town for the day. As far as he's concerned, Terry will be spending his day tomorrow either getting drunk or sleeping off a hangover he'll give himself tonight. It's not like he ever bothers him over the holidays anyway.
It'll be fine.
They lapse into a comfortable silence. Well, comfortable for Mike, maybe. Terry, however, soon finds himself fidgeting uncomfortably. Sure, he's feeling confident about his van plan, but there's something else that's coming to mind. Over the past few days, Mike hasn't brought up the events of 'that night'. No more questions, no more comments. Terry's sure he didn't forget. It's not exactly something you just forget happened. But then…why the silence? Brow cocked, he chances a glance in his direction, opening his mouth to speak.
Before he can, Mike interrupts the silence himself; "So, I've been thinking some about what happened the other night…You heard anything new about it?"
Terry feels a sudden chill race down his spine. Playing it off, he smirks a bit.
"Yeah right," he scoffs, "You're the one runnin' shit around here. I stay in my goddamn trailer unless I need to do something. But you ain't said shit about it since that night. How hard you actually been thinkin' about it? Did you end up finding somethin'?"
"No," Mike scratches his chin, looking thoughtful, "Not gonna lie, I ain't heard anything since then. As far as I can tell, he never came back. Nothing's been missing — so I know you ain't stealing shit either — and there's no signs of anyone fucking with the rides."
"So, what?" Terry asks, "It was just a fluke?"
"Probably, but…that's not really what's been buggin' me about it," he pauses to take a long drag, enjoying the flavor for a moment, "There's a lot about that night that's weird as hell."
"Like what?"
"Aside from the way you've been acting lately…?"
"The fuck's that supposed to mean?" Terry snaps back, "I ain't been actin' any different than usual."
"Guess not," Mike mumbles, a grin breaking on his face, "It's totally normal for you to run around in the snow wearing a bathrobe n' no shoes."
"Hey, I told ya, it was extenuating circumstances," Terry retorts defensively, "It was not my first choice, y'know?"
"I sure as shit hope not," Mike snickers.
Terry rolls his eyes, taking an irritable puff off his cigarette as Mike laughs at his expense.
"So you're just exaggerating, then?" he asks with a grimace, "About shit from that night bein' weird?"
"Oh no, there's more," Mike retorts, his laughter slowly subsiding, "That's just the most prominent."
"What else, then?"
"There's more of that weird behavior of yours…" Mike notes, "Why do you care so much?"
Terry shrugs; "You're the one who wanted to make conversation."
"I did say that, didn't I?" Mike huffs a bit, shifting on his feet, "Alright, if you must know, it was mostly little things. Like the footprints I found the next morning."
"What about 'em?"
"Well, I didn't see 'em anywhere around the perimeter of the park," Mike explains, "Hell, it looked like they started somewhere in the middle. With all your running around to catch the kid who made 'em, it was kinda hard to tell where they started or ended, but I didn't even find 'em very far outside the main area of the park."
"Huh…Alright, I'll give ya that…" Terry mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck, "That's pretty weird…"
He pauses, wracking his brain for any excuse that might sound plausible.
"Was there a lot of snow on the ground around the rides?" he asks, squinting a bit as he feigns his search for a lost memory, "I know sometimes it can get real thin on the ground in those places."
Mike furrows his brow, looking lost in thought. After a moment, he grimaces.
"Shit, man, I don't remember…" he shakes his head, "I don't think so. It might've been pretty thin."
"Well, maybe he snuck in around some of the bigger rides? Like the Mondo coaster or the Log Jam?"
Mike hums thoughtfully; "Yeah…I guess those rides mostly gather snow on top, not the ground."
He seems to be buying it. After letting him think about that for a second, Terry suddenly snaps his fingers, as though he'd just thought of something.
"What about the food trailers?"
Mike turns to him with a suspicious look; "What about them?"
"Can't they put out a lot of heat?" he suggests, "And we got that big ass group of 'em near the Log Jam — that'd sure as shit melt the snow around them, wouldn't it?"
Mike starts nodding, a look of realization creeping across his face.
"Yeah," he agrees, "we don't keep those trailers warm, but the fridges put out a shit ton of heat when they're grouped altogether like that."
"So, maybe he got in around there?" Terry shrugs, "I did find him skulking around one of the food trailers, after all."
Mike hums again, seeming to ponder this as he takes absentminded puffs on his cigarette. After a minute, he sighs.
"Eh, that's all well and good," he grumbles, carding his fingers through his greasy hair, "But it doesn't really matter now. I barely remember half of that shit. Besides," he slips his free hand into his pocket, "it's been almost a week; even if I wanted to speculate, it's not like it matters. Those footprints are long gone."
"So…what?" Terry scoffs, "A kid breaks into your park and you ain't even gonna do dick about it? You sure didn't have a problem giving me shit about what happened."
"That's cuz you're an asshole who was acting weird and later admitted to tryin' to steal my shit," Mike retorts, "But even that don't mean much. I mean, fuck, I got a couple of fuckin' convicts on the payroll as is."
"Isn't 'the boss' supposed to crack down on that shit?"
"Listen, fucker," Mike scoffs, "As long as the business doesn't get fucked over and I keep makin' money, I could give a shit. What do I care if some little shit sneaks in? Especially when he got caught and didn't break or steal anything?"
"Guess that's a decent point…" Terry nods, "But then, why bring it up at all?"
"I was just curious," Mike replies with a shrug, "I hadn't heard shit, but you're the one who dealt with it that night. I was just wonderin' if you'd heard anything since."
He doesn't seem to be expecting a response from Terry as he takes one last, long drag from his cigarette.
"Anyway," he grumbles, flicking the cigarette butt away, "All that aside, if I really wanted to take legal action based on all that, I woulda done it already. Hell, I woulda done it the first day. But at this point, any evidence I had is fucked, so why waste the time?"
Rubbing the smoldering cigarette into the snow, he turns away.
"Anyway, Merry Christmas, I guess," he mumbles, "Enjoy your day off."
Terry watches him leave, a feeling of paranoia creeping up his spine. Mike does seem disinterested in the subject, but something about their conversation still has him a little unnerved. Flicking away his own cigarette, he retreats inside.
I think I'll leave a little earlier than expected tomorrow…
|
“Ray…” Norman pauses the creme he has been mixing, turning to his left to face his partner. “Do you believe in birthdays?”
“Huh?” Ray raises an eyebrow, pausing along to the chocolate ganache he was making. At this point, he was supposed to get used to Norman’s absolutely random, out-of-nowhere questions that seemed to make zero sense unless you had a
huge
piece of background information about this little wannabe cool Ratri kid.
But, well…
Their relationship of a year had provided Ray enough background to feel that Norman meant more than what he gave in by his words.
But only that.
No further clue except being aware of the fact that there was, in fact, something beyond his seemingly stupid question.
“Well…” Ray sighs, unable to hold himself from grinning a little. Perhaps it was no laughing material, but every time Norman opened up to him a bit with these questions, he discovered more sides of this boy, and god, he
loved
that. He loved him. “For your information, birthdays do exist. They are not materials up to debate. Well…” He shifts his focus back to the chocolate he was melting in creme, gently swirling the mixture. “It doesn’t matter if you use Gregorian or Julian calendar either. I mean,” His voice gets quieter as he mutters rather embarrassing information he has had forever in his mind, “Your birthday is March 21, right? That’s March 8 on Julian’s calendar, and… March 2 for the Lunar calendar. I think it’s right after the beginning of the second lunar month.”
Ray pauses, looking back at Norman. He had stored way more fun-facts about Norman in his mind than he’d like to let out.
“It doesn’t matter which calculation you make. The fact that you were born stands.”
A moment of silence ensues as Norman looks at him in utter confusion.
Then Norman lets out a laugh— a long, genuine laugh.
“What!?” It makes Ray blush all the way up to his ears. “I’m being
honest
.”
“How—” Norman asks, undeniably flattered, “How do you keep these in your mind? It wasn’t what I was asking…”
Unamused, Ray glares in his direction, pursing his lips to mimic that he is teasing him.
“I don’t.”
He does.
“I calculated them on spot.”
But had he not memorized them, he
could
.
“I bet you checked up our zodiac compatibility as well~” Norman sends Ray an amused grin that Ray recognizes so fucking well, and he completely drops his own part of the creme, snuggling a little too close to Ray’s personal space and dropping arms on his shoulders. “Do you think we are a good match?”
“Hey—” Ray flinches,
still
shocked by how reckless Norman could be at times. “Watch out for the sto—”
“Nevermind the stove,” Norman purrs, hoping to be seductive, but he sounds just like an entitled boy to Ray.
Well…
A very cute goddamn entitled boy.
“You’re gonna burn yourself, get off—” Ray scolds him with an attempt to change the subject, because god,
of course
he did. Of course, he read all of their zodiac signs and 21 tips about impressing your Aries crush.
“Did you?” Norman looks up at him with puppy eyes, giving him a full hug that basically pressed their chests together and made Ray panic both in the external and internal means.
“W-What does this have to do with your question, Mr. Birthday?” He stutters, unavoidably, as he does whenever Norman ends up discovering yet another embarrassing fact about him. He finally lets go of his spoon, but unlike an irresponsible entitled kid, turns the stove off quickly before shifting his attention back to Norman.
Ray knows well enough to understand that they wouldn’t be able to continue until Norman spoke his mind, after all.
“Well… You’re right.”
A wave of shyness slaps Norman on the face when his boyfriend
actually
gives him the attention he so desperately wanted. He once again remembers how damn handsome Ray is, and—
No, no, no.
Don’t be distracted, James!
“I meant… Birthday
anniversaries
,” he adds with a little smile.
Ray breathes in to give him another lecture, but Norman cuts him off quickly.
“No, not like that— I mean…” He purses his lips in annoyance, but he goes along with their little wordplay. He knows that Ray has already understood what he meant, but his sadistic boyfriend seemed to want him to practice sPeAkiNg hIs mInD, to the point he never missed a chance of pushing Norman to his vocabulary limits.
“I mean the sociological and psychological impact of periodically celebrating birthday anniversaries according to the reference calendar of our interest.” He completes, looking at Ray with a smug smile, who is, to his annoyance, already grinning in amusement.
“Damn, you sound so hot when you are being honest.” Ray teases, though grateful that Norman was actually trying, even in this little game of theirs.
“Will you just answer my question?”
Or… maybe that was enough of pushing. Maybe Norman was getting ma— oh shit he was definitely getting mad.
“Fine, fine—” Ray surrenders, taking a step to close the distance between them, brushing Norman’s blond locks behind his ear as he leaned down to his lips, “I do.”
He continued upon Norman’s silence.
“You know… Last year— in fuckin’ Gregorian calendar—” Norman chuckles as his statement, but Ray goes on. “I didn’t really think that this meant anything. Birthdays. Anniversaries. Or life…”
He sighs, getting slightly away from him. He doesn’t really want to engage in a gloomy conversation, but if there is anything he learned in the span of a year, it is that sometimes he genuinely had to be honest— especially to his loved ones.
..and honesty was, in fact, not equal to pessimism.
Aware of the instant anxiety that overwhelmed Norman upon his mentioning of the past year, Ray guides his partner against the kitchen counter, brushing his hand against his waist as if they were dancing.
“In fact, Norman…” He tilts his head to the side, giving a righteous glance at his partner’s beautiful features— truly a sight to admire. “The recent findings of quantum physics say that time is, in fact, nothing more than our mere conception. Newton’s Laws are not always the truth.”
Norman pauses. Not is he already taken aback by the fact that his hot, considerate and amazing boyfriend was giving full attention to his stupid question, but he was standing way too close to him, looking too deeply into his eyes—
and
his body while talking about complicated shit on his face.
“F-For your information,” he can’t believe that it’s his turn to stutter now. It wasn’t even on intention— what’s this, a cheesy fanfiction!? “I am a business major.”
“You read enough Stephen Hawking to follow my words,” Ray smiles, inexplicably amused by Norman’s reactions.
Too cute.
Too beautiful.
Too consciously vulnerable.
Ray kisses him on the lips.
“You won’t get your thoughts through my brain with a kiss.” Norman laughs quietly in a bit of sarcasm, remembering how all of this started. How
they
started.
“Oh you bet,” Ray grins, having only more excuses to steal another kiss, of which Norman is more than willing to provide. But Ray decides not to mess with him further after their second kiss— aware of the limits of Norman’s patience.
“So, if the time is a lie and the universe is eventually gonna collapse…” He mutters, his forehead pressed against Norman’s. “Do birthdays even matter?”
“I don’t know.” Norman looks away, honest.
“It does,” Ray says with absolute clarity. Norman looks at him again, but Ray continues before he could speak. “Because it can’t take our present away.”
A strange wave of warmth runs through Norman, all the way down from his throat. He can’t recognize this feeling. But he knows that this happened a few times in the past.
“Your existence is as valid as the Hawking’s theories.”
Way to ruin Norman’s emotional mood.
“That doesn’t sound
valid
at all, Ray.”
“I know, but hey. You’re the one digging into the
sociological
and
psychological
aspects of birthday anniversaries. Of course, there’s not a universally accepted response to that. It’s not like biology, after all, it’s only humans who remember the
anniversaries
of the events...” Ray muses quietly until Norman interrupts him.
“So you’re saying that there’s no meaning in it?”
There’s something in Norman’s voice that stings Ray’s heart. Something so innocent, so vulnerable, so genuinely honest. Something to brave and so human. Something that almost feels like it’s beyond Norman. But also just… Norman.
“Yeah. There’s none.” Ray smiles.
Norman looks at him with utter horror, but before he can proceed, Ray presses his finger on Norman’s lips to keep him silent.
“There’s no such thing as the meaning of life.” Ray states. “Until you create it yourself.”
It takes Norman a moment to understand.
Then, he smiles.
“Let’s keep baking.”
- END OF SPECIAL CHAPTER
NEXT CHAPTER WILL CONTINUE FROM THE NORMAL STORYLINE.
-
|
You were walking down an empty, deserted path, one that was completely quiet and abandoned. One that you were sure that you had never seen before… though it would be easier to tell if you could see. Why… Why was everything so dark? Your eyes flickered uselessly, trying to adapt and change to the complete darkness. It was no use however. The darkness was absolute, completely dark, causing your insides to go cold with dread and fear. Who knew what lay in wait in that darkness? But yet, even as your guts screamed at you to stop moving you couldn’t. Your legs continued to move you forward, towards the imaginary danger that you were sure lurked in its depths…
It was probably for the best that you kept moving anyways.
First things first. Where were you, exactly? You had no idea where you were. Even in the darkness you couldn’t sense a single hint at a familiar landmark. Not a familiar turn or rock in the path. How odd. And here you thought that you knew this town pretty well in the X amount of years you and your family lived here. It was a small town after all, nothing had changed since long before you were conceived. It was a small town, one that never changed, timeless. You thought that nothing could surprise you anymore. You chuckled at the thought, a tiny echo of something related to the thought blinking in your mind before it died and faded away. Oh well. Must not have been very important.
Just… just keep moving forward. You’ll get there, wherever and whatever that was, eventually… and the danger will pass eventually.
You peered through the darkness, darker and blacker than any night that you had currently experienced. Not the moon or stars were out tonight… as if they were hiding from something… Or perhaps they were hiding from someone? There were many myths about nights such as these. How they tried to hide from evil to remain pure.
You shook your head, removing any ridiculous thoughts from your brain. Those thoughts should have vanished a long time ago. You weren’t a child anymore. You were too old for this creepiness, especially for the old urban legends. Now was not the time to creep yourself out, especially since you currently had no idea where you were.
Just… you had to get home. Get home and see Dad. That’s all you knew… that’s all that mattered. Dad… your mom… and your dog Boris. Your family… Blindly you started walking again. You couldn’t see anything in front of you, not a sound was heard. Deaf and blind were not a good combination.
You slowly made your way forward, a hand outstretched, desperate to feel anything. Anything that could help guide your way…
As soon as you were sure that you were walking in circles was when suddenly blinding light surrounded you, instantly blinding you. Like someone flipped the switch… You covered your eyes, trying to shield yourself from the harsh light. Just as the darkness was blinding, as was this new light. Like you were staring into the face of the sun, the after burn was evn imprinted into your retina.
There seemed to be no adapting the harsh light.
A sharp scream broke your thoughts, shattering your consciousness. One that was full of pain and fear, much like a wounded animal. The deer in the jaws of wolves. The sound of impending death…
And one that had a strangely familiar tone to it…
Still blinded by the abundance of light you broke into a run, desperate to reach the voice in time. No. After all you’ve been through you couldn’t be too late. Not for this! Not for all that he has done for you!
You continued to push your body, urging it faster, but your limbs were made of lead. They slowly lifted and propelled you through the bright hell that was your prison, slowly dragging your soul down, feeling the overwhelming sense of collapse and dread. Tears sprang to your eyes as you forced yourself to run even faster, forcing your legs to move to your will. Still they continued to slowly raise and lower, a dark parody of your fear. Why were you even running so slowly? There had to be a reason for this. Sparring a quick glance down, still pumping your arms and powering your legs to run forward, towards the noise, you saw that you were sloshing in a deep, thick liquid. Ink or some other similar fluid. Gross… While your eyes were still adjusting to the light you must have landed in this odd pond. It was about halfway up your shin, enough to drag you down and slow your speed. Still you pushed yourself to continue on. Giving up was not an option. Especially now…
There was an end to the light you realized. It was like the light was a dome, circling a specific area, a wall of that absolute darkness surrounding it. There was no explanation to the physics of this “room” of light, it just was. And right now it didn’t matter. You needed to get there in time…
Finally, finally you saw him, a silhouette now quickly approaching. The scream could have only come from him. You could just make out that he too was covered in ink, sporting purple and blue bruises and a couple cuts that still ran red… but you would recognize the salt and pepper hair, shaped into the immortal military haircut any day. “DAD!” you screamed to him, your legs finally obeying your commands and pushing you forward. “DAD! DAD IT’S ME!”
Henry, your father, he looks up and sees you. Familiar chocolate eyes, lacking their usual sparkle, but the same eyes you woke to in the mirror, looked up at you. Your heart thundered in your chest in joy. You had made it! You were going to save him! Henry seemed to be having mixed feelings about seeing you. His facial expressions were constantly changing as you approached him. Amazement, love, relief all gave way to dread and horror, all mingling together in a fascinating combination, one that you weren’t sure was possible. “No! Stay back! They’ll get you too!” he cried out at you, waving for you to stay back.
His arm, the strong arm that helped you ride a bike, that taught your letters and numbers, the arm that held you tightly when you needed it, it was covered in deep and jagged scratches. The blood, his blood, still oozed out of the open wounds, dripping into the ink below them and blending with the dark, tarry liquid. His voice, once authoritative and warm, similar to a summer’s day, was now broken, desperate and sad.
What… who had done this to him?
“I can’t leave you!” You said, almost to him now, “not now, not ever.”
Henry opened his mouth to say something, probably to discourage you, when his eyes shot up. Away from your face, to somewhere far above you. His face, the skin around the cuts and bruises, went pale. “Look out!” he screamed to you, an arm outstretching to you, just as a dark shadow appeared above you.
A long, dripping hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you back against a wet, dark body. One that was strangely liquid but solid… twin peaks could be seen in the murky shadow.
That’s when things began to come slowly come back to you.
Bendy.
“My little treat…” the demon huskily said, pulling you against his body, trapping you against him once again.
“No!” You screamed, pulling at his arm. You just needed him to loosen his grip a little bit, just enough so you can wiggle free. You just needed to grab your father. That’s all you needed to do and then you could be free of this cursed studio. You could leave it behind or burn it to the ground, whichever struck your fancy… “Dad!” you screamed as he began to try and crawl to you. He was badly injured. His pants and shirt were ripped in several places, he was even missing a fingernail.
Two pairs of hands seized your father’s shoulders and his waist, pulling him back into the wall of utter darkness. “NO!” he screamed, wiggling like a fish on a line. “Let me go! Let my daughter go!” he pleaded to the unknown hands. They made no comment, continuing to pull him into the abyss.
“DAD!” You screamed, throwing out a useless hand to him. Your fingertips grazed each other, teasingly touching each other, but found no purchase. Both yours and his hands were saturated in ink, slimy and gross. “DAD!” you cried out again as Bendy’s hand tightened around your waist, pulling you back against the demon.
You watched as your dad, Henry, slowly disappeared into the darkness. His body slowly fading into the darkness. Your father… “CARMA!” he screamed once, before his ink stained hand disappeared into the bleak nothingness.
* * * * *
You woke with a start, gasping for breath, tears stinging your eyes. It took a moment for everything to come back to you… why you were naked, why your body ached… and why a large and lanky version of Bendy was holding you securely to him.
You needed to get out of here. Now even more so than ever if the dream was trying to speak to you. Henry and Boris, time was running out for them. They could…
Ok. Do not finish that thought. Focus. You looked over your still sleeping captor and looked down at his hands. His hands were huge you realized, one easily dwarfing your stomach. Ok, no more body comparisons. Think on your goals. Freedom, rescue and escape. Those were the three most important things right now.
His knot had finally shrunk while the two of you had slept, releasing you from him slightly. With a little wiggle of your hips and altering your body’s position, his shaft slipped out of you, landing on the nest like a limp noodle. You shuddered at the removal and then groaned, feeling the thick fluid seep out of you, staining the pieces of the nest black.
So four goals. Freedom, rescue, escape and then bath. If that liquid was coming out of you, chances are that there was still some stuck inside of you. Gross.
His hands… they were wrapped securely around you, keeping you close to him. This would be a little more difficult. You couldn’t just grasp his fingers and pry them off of you. That would wake him up for sure.
And you weren’t sure if he was the kind of guy who wanted round two or breakfast in the morning.
But you had to try something.
You slowly reached out and gently grazed the palms of one of his hands with your fingernails. Slowly and softly you scratched the “skin” that made up his hand, keeping sure that you followed the grain of his inky palm.
It worked. He shivered slightly before moving his hands, withdrawing from your body and adjusting his body.
Before you could wrap himself around you again, you silently scurried off of the bed. You snatched your clothes from around the nest, quickly dressing as you watched him carefully. You had to hurry. You didn’t know how long he would stay asleep now that you gone.
You pulled on your hoodie, zipping it up to your neck. You were pleasantly surprised. With the exception of your underwear, your clothes were in relatively good condition with the recent additions of ink stains. With the way he was undressing you early, you weren’t sure if you would be strolling around in your birthday suit. Thankfully, Bendy had shown some small mercy to you in that way.
Creeping to the doorway, you carefully peered out. There seemed to be no one in sight, ink demon or otherwise. Perhaps things were finally starting to look up for on-…
“Little treat, what are you doing out of my bed so early?”
Whirling around, you faced the demon. He was blearily lifting himself onto his arms, staring directly at you. A cut-out of Bendy’s face stared at you above him. Shit… so any cut out…
He looked at you curiously, ink slowly dripping down his face. “Little treat… you weren’t thinking of escaping, were you?” he growled slightly. He was more than willing to give chase you realized.
You really were his prisoner.
Well… you had to try something…
A small smile crept onto your face and you approached Bendy. “Of course not, dear.” You told him, sitting on the nest and leaning against his body. He was warm and soft for being a blob of ink. “I just wanted to make you breakfast is all… but,” you lowered your eyes, “you quarters are understocked, already out of bacon soup. I was thinking that I could grab some nearby cans and surprise you but…” you sniffed delicately.
A hand wrapped around your hip, pulling you to him. “Awww and then I woke and spoiled the surprise, didn’t I?” he asked, kissing your cheek. You nodded, allowing yourself to look as disappointed as you felt. “I’m sorry treat…” Bendy said, “You go and find the soup and I’ll lay down here, asleep. That way you can surprise me once you finish cooking. How does that sound?”
You nodded eagerly, praying that you didn’t look as eager as you felt. “That would be perfect… love.” You told him, kissing what you thought was his forehead.
Bendy purred before laying down on the bed. “Hurry up, sugar.” He smirked. “Or I’ll be hungry in a different way soon.”
You gulped and nodded, quickly pushing yourself off of the nest and disappearing into the corridor. Part of you couldn’t believe that worked, but another part of you thought that this was part of his twisted game of cat and mouse. Running and ducking around corners as quickly as you could, you tried to put as much distance between you and the demon as possible.
Alright. Freedom. Sort of accomplished.
Now to find Boris and your father, before it was too late. |
Dean rings the doorbell and swings his keys around his finger, catching them in the palm of his hand. He figures he and Ben have time to stop for slushees on the way out of town and still make it to the campsite before dark to set up the tent. Although he feels bad that he Cas can’t come, and feels worse for completely forgetting for that moment about his sun allergy, he’s looking forward to spending the weekend with Ben. Time with Ben is supremely uncomplicated. Not that Dean’s life is difficult, but when he’s with Ben, they talk about video games and movies, then Ben will try to convince Dean that he needs more candy and Dean will say no at first, and eventually give in.
When they go camping, there’s marshmallows and hot cocoa before bedtime and when they catch fish, they make a royal, disgusting mess out of gutting it, with Ben gleefully explaining that every girl he knows, including his step-mom would be horrified by what they’re doing.
It’s fun and simple. And Dean made sure he has more than enough marshmallows for several rounds of s’mores.
“Dean Winchester.”
He looks up at Pamela saying his name. How she always manages to make his name sound suggestive, he will never know.
“Hey Pam, is Ben ready yet?”
She smiles. “Almost. I tried to help but I was very clearly told that it was guy stuff and he didn’t need me poking around in his things.” She steps back out of the doorway and Dean follows her into the house.
He’s been in the house a few of times, usually just long enough to pick up Ben or drop him off so he’s seen the painting of Castiel Collins before but it’s his first time seeing it since he started dating Cas.
Pamela seems to expect that he’ll want to look at it and pauses quietly while he stares at it.
Jesus, it’s amazing. It’s exactly like him.
“Remarkable, isn’t it?” Pamela drawls.
“Yeah,” he nods. “I, uh… yeah.”
The blue of his eyes is perfectly the same, the cut of the jaw, the focus of his gaze. If he hadn’t already seen the painting, he would think that Cas had just posed for it.
“Anna is going to ask Castiel if he’ll pose for her so she can paint a contemporary one as well,” adds Pamela.
Dean nods absently while still staring at the picture. It’s the kind of painting where the eyes seem to follow the viewer as they move through the room.
Pamela tugs on his sleeve playfully and Dean shakes himself slightly as he trails after her into the drawing room.
She sits on the couch with cat-like grace. “I hear you’ve been spending all your spare time up at the old house. With Castiel.”
One of her eyebrows is delicately arched over her almond eyes and although he’s no spring-chicken, he feels a flush start to creep up his neck.
“Uh, yes.”
“I also hear hearts are breaking all over town at the news that Dean Winchester is firmly off the market.”
Dean chuckles. “I wouldn’t know about that.”
“About the gossip or about the fact that you’re off the market?”
“Er, well, the gossip.” Damn, that woman has x-ray eyes and she’s raking him over with them.
“Mm-hmm,” replies Pam. “I’d like to have you and Castiel over for dinner sometime. You let me know when you have a night off at the pub.”
“You bet. Uh, if we’ve got a few minutes, I was hoping I could talk to you about something? About Ben?”
“Of course.”
“Do you know about this friend he has?” He uses his fingers to put air-quotes around the words.
At his expression, Pamela nods. “Oh, you mean Sarah?”
Dean’s surprised. “Yeah, he’s told you about her?”
Pamela shrugs. “Not really, but I’ve seen her around.”
“You’ve seen her?”
“Yes.”
“Ben said she’s dead,” he blurts.
“She is.”
“Okay, what?”
“She’s dead. She’s a ghost.” Pam’s talking to him like it’s the most common topic of conversation in the world and all Dean can do is stare back.
“Dean, I’ve told you before. I’m psychic,” she says plainly, gently, as though he’s a child.
“Yeah, but-”
“But you didn’t believe me. I know. Doesn’t mean it’s not true.”
Cracked. She’s totally cracked. “So you’re telling me that this friend of Ben’s, this Sarah is…”
“A ghost. Yes.”
“And you’ve seen her.” Incredulity coats his words. He can’t believe they’re standing here essentially arguing about ghosts. Even if he ever thought he would argue about them, he certainly never thought he’d have to convince someone that they don’t just hang around.
“Here and there. She used to spend a lot of time here but now I think she spends more time up at the old house. She probably used to live there.”
She says it all casually with a shrug. Like she and Dean have similar discussions every day.
“And this is all okay with you? This is all perfectly normal and doesn’t worry you?”
“Should it?”
“She’s dead! And Ben… well, he… talks to her! And they roam around and do… stuff.”
“Yes, stuff like looking for rocks and building forts in the woods. I believe they’re also reading Swiss Family Robinson. Hardly the stuff of nightmares. It’s harmless. At least I know where he is. He could be out getting into drugs or god only knows what else kids get into these days, but instead, he prefers to spend his time poking around the estate, searching for buried treasure.”
“With a dead girl.”
She waves her hand like this is unimportant. “Dean, I’m sure this is all very… surreal for you, but I’ve dealt with this my whole life. One of the reasons I married Ben’s father is because he was gifted as well and understood me. Clearly he passed that gift on to Ben. Ben seems happy. He’s doing well in school, he has friends other than Sarah, and it’s not as though he’s cut off from the world. And he has you. Now, if he suddenly turned down a weekend of camping with you so he could hang around here with Sarah, or if he asked me to buy him a half dozen hamsters for a ritual sacrifice…” she shrugs. “Then I might start to be concerned. But to him, she’s just another friend.”
“Even though she’s dead.”
“Even though.”
Dean’s still not sure he believes Pam. Maybe she’s the one that’s crazy and she’s feeding this stuff to Ben, and he’s young, impressionable and falls for it. Or maybe both her and Ben are hallucinating, or sick. It could happen. Happens all the time on those bizarre medical dramas. Shared hallucinations brought on by toxic mold, this is an old house, after all
“We don’t have toxic mold, Dean Winchester.”
He jumps back a bit. Pamela’s always been good at reading him but she’s never been that good.
“Well, I figured you needed a little demonstration but, I don’t make a habit of rooting around in your brain, I’ve got better things to do, trust me. Unless you want to start sharing about how much time you’ve been spending up at the old Estate with Castiel?”
Dean gulps. Work, think of work, think of Sam, think of the Impala. Yes! The Impala with its deep engine, low purr that’s just like Cas’… No! Car, car, think of the car.
Pamela laughs, throaty and happy, waving him off with a hand. “Go. Go get Ben and go do your manly man things out in the woods.”
He wouldn’t say he exactly scampers out of the drawing room, but it’s pretty damn close.
***
It’s just starting to cool off, the damp air taking on a chill by the time Dean has the tent set up and a fire going in the pit. Ben’s flipping through comic books catching Dean up on the latest happenings in the Pokemon world.
Dean tries to focus, he really does, but it’s all mumbo jumbo to him. Ben rolls his eyes several times at the questions Dean asks. Dean clearly doesn’t get it. They roast hot dogs for dinner and Dean tosses one into the fire so they can watch it swell up and explode in boyish delight. Ben’s a non-stop chatter box about school, video games, comic books, his friends, and April, who is still apparently his girlfriend and now they even stand next to each other in line after recess, so things have progressed. It’s quite the serious step from the way Ben tells it.
After dinner, Dean toasts marshmallows and stuffs them between graham crackers with bits of chocolate. Ben proclaims he’s old enough to assemble his own, but the first time Dean lets him try, he attempts to put the s’more together while the marshmallow is still on fire.
Dean is master chef of all s’mores after that.
Dean eats far too many and at one point seriously thinks he might be sick. He manages to keep it together and even makes them both a cup of hot cocoa before bedtime.
Tucked into their sleeping bags, Dean’s got his flashlight shining up under his chin while Ben’s is laying flat in his lap.
“… and that’s when they hear the sound… scrape, scrape, scrape. Then one of the guys in the back seat says he remembers reading that morning that a serial killer had escaped from the insane asylum…”
“How?” Ben interrupted.
“What? I don’t know how, he just got out. Anyway, the serial killer only had one hand, on the other was. A. HOOK!”
Ben is totally not impressed and doesn’t even flinch at Dean’s shout.
“Why did they let him keep the hook if he was in jail?” Ben asked.
Dean paused again. “I don’t know. He found it. When he escaped. He found a locker of all his stuff and he found his rusty hook.”
“Why was it rusty?”
“Because it had been sitting in a locker for all those years,” Dean answers, exasperated.
“But why’d they keep it at all? It should have been locked up for evidence. That’s what they do on CSI.”
“This is before CSI,” Dean argues. This was a lot easier with Sam when he was little.
“Is this an old serial killer?”
Dean sighs and drops his flashlight to his lap. “Dude, this is the best story I have.”
Ben shrugs. “Sorry, but it’s kinda lame.”
Dean rolls his eyes. “Fine. Tell me more about Pokemon.” He makes a ‘come on’ gesture with his hand. Part of the fun of camping is staying up late and Dean figures he can take about an hour more of Pokemon before he calls lights out.
“Um, I kind of know a story,” Ben hedges.
“Is this a Pokemon story?”
“No.”
“Super Mario Brothers?”
“No.”
“Is this gonna be like that time you told me all of Star Wars and tried to convince me you wrote it?”
“That was you!”
Dean laughs. “So it was. Okay, I’m listening.” Especially if it’s not Pokemon.
Ben tips his own flashlight up so it’s shining under his chin, just like Dean had before. “Um, like a long time ago, there was a witch that lived in Collinsport. And her name was Ruby.”
Dean shivers slightly and he looks over his shoulder, checking for a draft or crack in the tent seam but there isn’t one. He turns back to Ben.
“And Ruby was really mean. She would kick dogs when she saw them on the street and she never took her gloves off when she went in someone's house and that was really rude. Her hair was always down and she never tied it up properly and her dresses were…” Ben pauses like he’s trying to recall a certain word. “… improper.”
Dean frowns. That’s an unusual word choice for Ben, but Dean doesn’t say anything.
“And Ruby didn’t ever go to church. ‘cause she was a witch and God would strike her down if she set foot inside a holy building. She rode a big brown horse and it was scrawny and never fed enough and Ruby would whip it when she rode it because the horse wouldn’t go fast enough for her. Most people in town thought she was just mean, but she was a witch.”
“Where did you hear this story, Ben?” Dean asks, concerned at Ben’s odd words.
“Sarah told me,” Ben says easily.
Dean nods absently. “I see. Go on.”
“Anyway, the only two things in the world that Ruby wanted more than to be a witch was to marry the man she loved and live forever. She was a strong witch, but she couldn’t make herself importal.”
“Immortal,” Dean corrects automatically.
“That’s what I said. But she could make someone else immortal and then they could change her.”
Dean starts to feel a little dizzy. He leans over to make sure the flaps are open on the tent and they are getting fresh air.
“Are you sick? Did you eat too much?” Ben asks.
“I’m fine. Keep going.”
“The person Ruby was in love with was kind of like a prince. He had a lot of money and he was really good looking and everyone liked him. But he was already in love with someone else. And Ruby had to get rid of person the prince loved first. She went through all her old books until she found a spell to make a doll of a person, a hoo-doo doll.”
“Voodoo.”
“Yeah. And one day, she dressed up like a boy, and hid her hair under a hat, and she wore pants. Pants out in public.” Ben says this as though it were scandalous and Dean has no doubt that Ben is repeating the story exactly as it was told to him. And if Dean admits to that, which he has to because it’s just that obvious, he has to admit he believes in ghosts, to believe in Sarah.“She walked up behind the person the prince loved and she cut a piece of hair from their neck and all they thought was that a spider had landed on them and they brushed it off. Then Ruby waited for them to stop and say hello to someone and when they did, she bumped into them and sliced a button from their coat. And that was all she needed.”
A cold sweat breaks across Dean’s upper lip and he swipes at it. It would be ridiculous of him to be scared, but he feels a strange sort of vertigo. Maybe too many hotdogs or too much sugar, or possibly the hot chocolate was old. He feels like Ben’s voice is very far away, like if he reached out for Ben, his fingers wouldn’t find him and would only clutch at empty air.
“She made her doll with the hair and the button and when it was ready, she put it on a shelf. And she waited.”
“What was she waiting for?” Dean can’t help but ask.
“She liked waiting. She liked knowing what she was gonna do and that nobody was gonna stop her. But one day, she couldn’t wait anymore and she took the doll and she smashed it on her table. Crack!”
Dean flinches. He barely has time to realize he’s done it before Ben continues.
“And she smashed it again, crack! Crack! And the person the prince loved broke. They broke really bad and there was nothing the doctor could do.” Ben shakes his head sadly.
Dean’s leaning forward toward Ben. “And then?”
“Then Ruby waited some more. She waited for the prince to come see her. The prince knew Ruby knew bad stuff. The prince asked Ruby to save the person he loved. But Ruby… I can’t remember the right word. She told him something and it was a lie.”
“Betrayed? Ruby betrayed him?”
“Yeah, she betrayed him,” Ben says with the knowing nod of nine year olds. “She did some magic and it made the prince a monster, and then she told the prince to go make the person he loved a monster so they will both live forever. But she told him wrong. She did it by purpose.”
“On purpose,” Dean murmurs.
“Yeah. On purpose and when the prince did what she said, the person died.”
Ben stops there and Dean leans forward a millimeter more. “Well?” he prods. “Then what?”
“Well, the prince killed Ruby,” Ben finishes, as though it were obvious.
“And?”
Ben puts his flashlight down. “And nothing. That’s it. That’s the end of the story.”
“There’s got to be more than that,” Dean blurts. He feels tense and anxious and strangely… prickly as though parts of his body have been asleep and are only now waking up.
Ben shrugs. “That’s all Sarah told me.”
He knows that it’s completely irrational but he wants to leave all their stuff, drive back to Collinsport, march up to Pamela’s house, and demand that Ben find Sarah and make her tell him more.
“But… what… that’s a horrible ending.”
Again Ben shrugs. “I thought it was really cool. You should hear Sarah tell it. She tells stories great. She cried when she told me that one.” Ben yawns. “Can I play with my DS for a bit?”
“If you turn the sound off,” Dean replies automatically. Ben scurries over to his backpack and pulls out his Nintendo DS, flicking the sound off and eagerly starting his game. It’s a regular part of their camp-outs, evenings always ending with Ben playing his DS quietly in his sleeping bag while Dean ignores how late he’s staying up.
Dean makes sure Ben is all the way in his sleeping bag before sliding into his own, the tiny DS screen illuminating the tent. He’s stuck on Ben’s story, looping it around in his head. It’s a strange story for a nine year old, and stranger still is Dean’s reaction to it. He feels unsettled and, if he’s honest with himself, a little scared.
He stares up at the fabric ceiling of the tent long after Ben’s screen goes dark and the quiet sounds of Ben snoring fill the tent. |
Law got done with his shift at work and was about to walk out when he was stopped by Ikkaku, smiling. “Law we’ll head to your place later ok? We need to finish some things up here”
Law smiled, “Of course.”
“Can you believe it’s been a year?” she asked and Law shook his head
“Not one single bit” Law said, “Well I need to go pick it up soon, so I’ll see you later” he said leaving the hospital and sighed. He really couldn’t believe it’s been a year since his soulmate registration with Luffy. He still finds the whole thing surreal, loving to look at the name inked on his hand, hopefully, forever. When he looked at his hand as he started making his way away from the hospital grounds, he felt eyes on him. He looked up to see a figure of a person quickly dart behind a corner of a building across the street.
Law didn’t know how to feel. Part of him wanted to confront him but the majority of him ignored it. He wasn’t worth it. He needed to get the item pretty soon anyways. Law thought he’d leave eventually.
After a block, Law realized he was being followed by him and he was growing frustrated. ‘Why the fuck is he following me?’ Law thought to himself as he made his way to the anime shop, he frequented with Luffy. Let’s see the guy follow him in here. Law smirked walking through the doors
Law walked to the employee behind the register, “Hey, Usopp”
“Oh hey Traffy! How are you?” Usopp said; the nickname Luffy uses seemed to spread amongst their friends. Law had no problem with it, but he will always find it special when Luffy called him that.
“I’m ok, how’s Kaya?” Law asked, knowing the man just met his soulmate a few months prior.
“She’s great! I’m working more just to have a little more money to save up. I’m afraid of taking her to my place… you know with Zoro and Sanji”
“... I understand that perfectly, they would scare the poor thing away” he said smiling, “So you’re working to get an apartment?”
“Yep”
“I can help with the downpayment if you need” Law said and Usopp gasped,
“No no no, that’s not necessary!” Usopp said before hearing his boss “ahem” and froze, “Right, I’m at work right now, so I have to ask you, are you here for the thing you specially ordered for Luffy?” Usopp asked and Law nodded
“Yes”
“I saw the order, and I know Luffy will love it” Usopp said, grabbing the box behind the register, “Is this all?”
“For now, I’m sure Luffy will want to come back later.” Law said smiling, paying for the special item he ordered.
“If you wanted to, you could wait for me. My shift ends in a few minutes and when I clock out, I’ll head to your place with you” Usopp said putting the item and the receipt in a bag that he handed to Law
“Sure, fine by me” Law said, walking around looking at the store. There was something new to look at every week. He felt the familiar eyes of the certain person look at him.
‘... He actually followed me in here of all places… how ironic.’ Law thought, picking up a figure and looking at it, admiring the quality despite it not being from his favorite type of anime. But the eyes on him made him feel almost uneasy.
“Traffy, I’m off” Usopp said walking to him and noticed his friend being off from his normal self. “You ok?”
“... Don’t turn around, but he’s been following me since I got off from work” Law said and Usopp froze
“Who?”
“... My ex”
“... The soulmate one?”
“He’s my only ex”
“Oh… er… well let’s just go, I mean it’s not like anything’s changed really”
“Yeah, I guess so” Law said smirking, “It’s not like that Chaotic Gore Magala is going to fight itself” Law said and Usopp smiled knowing the guy got back to his normal self
“Why are we playing Monster Hunter on our Demon Slayer night again?” Usopp asked
“Because ‘Demon Hunter, Monster Slayer” Law said and Usopp rolled his eyes
“... I started this whole thing with the mistake in wording, huh?”
“Yep, and what’s better than a demon like monster to fight?” Law asked as they left. “You have your costume with you?”
“Yep, in my bag” Usopp said smiling, “You’re going to dress up too?”
“Yep, I also brought my costume with me in my bag”
“Why?”
“Cause Luffy’s a snoop, he’s tried to find out what I’m going as and as it is a surprise, I haven’t showed him”
“What are you going as?”
“Since Luffy’s going as Zenitsu, I’m planning Nezuko” Law said and Usopp ‘aww’ed
“That’s so cute! I won’t tell Luffy!” Usopp said and looked up and looked not impressed. “Now that’s ironic it’s not even funny”
Law looked up to see Zoro in an Inosuke costume, mask included, walking to Usopp and him. Law looked like he didn’t expect any difference for the man who took up three sword style training as a hobby. “You do know that is a complete insult to Inosuke, right?”
“Oh, shut up! I’m getting better! I made it here in one try” Zoro said
“Swordsplay does wonders for the mind” Usopp said in a mockery tone of a Kendo Master and Sensei and Law cracked a smirk at that
“More like the leash motivated him to train his direction skills” Law said and Usopp laughed
“That’s way better!”
“You two are such pricks” Zoro muttered and sighed, “So anyways, that Chaotic Gore Magala”
“Right, let’s go” Law said and the two walked by Law and not once did Zoro try to go off on one of his “shortcuts”. They were proud of Zoro but before anything could be said, Law couldn’t take it anymore and turned around.
“Why the hell are you following me, Eustass!?” Law yelled and Zoro and Usopp turned around to see Eustass Kid, probably not even 50ft away. “You have been following me since I got off from work at the hospital. What the hell do you want!?”. Law was extremely annoyed to the point of boiling over. He didn’t want this man to know where he’s been living for the past 7 years.
“I wanted to see how you were doing” Eustass Kid said and Law physically looked skeptical. “Don’t give me that look, I even went into that store to show I mean it”
“Gee, nothing tells someone you care more about them than walking into a building” Law said and saw the look Kid gave him. “Fine, fine I’ll humor you, why are you asking me how I’m doing?”
“... Well you see, Killer cheated on me and left. He even forced me to get rid of our soulmate connection just a few months ago”
‘Damn, it took that long?’ Law asked knowing Killer was trying to do that since they unofficially got together a year and a half ago.
“Karma’s a bitch” Zoro muttered in his voice before getting elbowed in the side by Usopp in an attempt to shut him up.
“Sucks, doesn’t it?” Law asked in a cold tone, one that came naturally now with the mention or thought of Eustass Kid’s name. “What does that have to do with me?”
“Well… I know now how you must have felt” Kid said and Law rolled his eyes
“And you want to know how I’m doing the first time in 7 years? Look, we’re in a hurry and we need to go, do you actually have something to say that isn’t absolutely pointless?”
Zoro and Usopp were proud at how far Law has come, this ex of his has no hold on him anymore and they were proud to witness this firsthand.
“Since I’m currently single, I’m willing to take you back” Kid said and that caught everyone off guard
“...What?” Law said
“I’m taking-”
“No” Law said interrupting him, “I know what you said… I have no words”
“I do” Zoro said being shushed by Usopp
“So does that mean you’re coming back?” Kid asked and Law let out a huff
“No fucking way” Law said shocking Kid
“What do you mean? Oh are you still mad about what happened on your birthday?” Kid asked and everyone huffed in shock
“Let’s just go” Usopp said as he knew they all knew it wasn’t even worth the time wasted having a conversation that is going nowhere with this guy. When they started walking away, Kid grabbed Law’s wrist
“Why are you leaving?”
“I told you I’m busy. You’re wasting my time. You literally just told me you understood how I felt because the same thing happened to you and wondered if ‘I’m still mad’.” Law said
“I know you’re just playing hard to catch, you really want me” Kid said as Law pulled his arm back
“Oh my god” Law groaned out grabbing the bridge of his nose, “What did I ever see in you?” Law asked as this display of delusion was far from being normal.
“Come on, I’ll make it worth your while, I’ll even deal with the shit you like” Kid said as if that was the best compromise for a relationship. Usopp, despite keeping Zoro quiet, couldn’t be quiet
“Oh my god! No one wants someone to ‘deal with the shit they like’!” Usopp said and Kid turned to him finally acknowledging the presence of the two Law was with
“Who the fuck are you?” Kid asked
“I’m his friend” Usopp said scoffing
“Stay out of this, this is personal!”
“Says the man yelling in public” Zoro said and received a very telling glare from the man. The glare told them his inner thoughts perfectly. Something on the lines of ‘the second I get back together with Law, he will no longer be friends with these guys or anyone I don’t approve of’
Usopp raised his hands and gave Zoro a ‘can you believe this guy?’ look. Even Law looked stunned at what he did
“Trafalgar be mine again” Kid said, turning his attention back to Law and Law saw right through everything. He couldn’t before because he was in that ‘soulmate phase’, but now he can see how deceitful this man really is. But he decided to continue this pointless conversation
“First, for someone desperate to want me back, last name basis is not cutting it” Law said, shocking Zoro and Usopp; he wasn’t planning to get back together with this douche is he?
“Fine, Law. Come on, let’s go be –”
“Second. Usopp is right, why would I ever settle or go back for someone who ‘has to deal with me being who I am’ rather than accept me and love me for who I am? You explain to me why I should take you back?”
“The sex is great”
“Luffy’s better” Law immediately combatted
“Who, your ‘fictional boyfriend’ you created to make me feel jealous?”
“... How delusional are you?” Law asked as the doctor in him was starting to worry about this man’s mental state despite hating his guts
“What are you talking about?”
“Remember my potential soulmate? The one from the bar 2 years ago? That’s Luffy.”
“So you’re using a real person to make me feel jealous? I didn’t know you were that mean, kind of a turn on I must say” Kid asked and Law shoved his palm in his face feeling offended he thought of him using another person to get back with him, hurting the other person in the process
“Does it look like I’m a heartless monster like you?”
Kid saw the name ‘Monkey D. Luffy’ on his hand and rolled his eyes as if thinking Law really went that far to get him back. He remembered the restaurant too, he clearly went there knowing he was there to get him back. “You can easily remove the status and come back to me”
“No I can’t” Law said
“Why not?”
“I don’t want to and I physically can’t. When you remove the status from someone, the connection you shared with them is completely shattered, you can’t get it back… Wait… You… you didn’t know that?” Law asked feeling past emotions come back as Kid looked shocked. “Are you fucking kidding me!? It’s in the fine print in the booklet given by the world government and you’re telling me you didn’t care enough about me to even read a few fucking pages before you forged my signature!?”
“Uh… We just threw it away” Kid said and Law was shaking. Zoro and Usopp felt worried that the progress they’ve made with Law throughout the last 2 years will be completely drained but they heard the doctor start laughing, all the emotions he felt a second ago left.
“Oh my god! Thank you! I’m so fucking relieved! You helped me dodge the biggest bullet of my life 7 years ago! This is the final thing I needed to fully move on from you. Thank you, I couldn’t have asked for anything better from you!” Law said smiling. Before Kid could respond the police showed up and Usopp explained he called them earlier and after some talking back and forth from Zoro and the policeman who knew him, Kid was arrested and eventually will be taken in for a psych eval. Kid still telling Law to take him back and that he would never be happy without him
They continued on their way to Law and Luffy’s place. “So you weren’t fully over him?” Zoro asked
“I was, but there was always that small 1% that was still there that never went away… with that whole thing, that 1% is gone” Law said smiling and sighed, “I just hope he does get the help he desperately needs”
“Yeah, none of that was normal” Usopp said and they made it to their place. Luffy answered the door
“Traffy!” Luffy said hugging him, “You’re late”
“Sorry, we got caught up in something… weird” Law said but smiled, “You look cute in your Zenitsu outfit”
“Thanks! Luffy said, “What happened?”
“Let’s go into our room and I’ll tell you” Law said and as the two went into the room, Zoro went into the kitchen where Ace and Sanji were to talk to Ace about what just happened. Usopp set up their Monster Hunter games
In the room, Luffy sat on the bed as Law was getting out of his work clothes, “So what happened?”
“...My ex”
“You ran into him?” Luffy asked and Law nodded, “What happened? Did he hurt you?”
“No he didn’t… He just asked me to go back to him since Killer left him for Hawkins” Law said back turned to Luffy, as he took off his shirt, so he didn’t see the younger man freeze
“... You're not going to go back to him, are you?” Luffy asked in a fearful tone and Law instantly realized his mistake and turned around. Law kneeled next to the bed and kissed Luffy.
“No, sorry I gave that impression! I’d never leave you” Law asked and sighed, “Even if we never met each other I wouldn’t have been able to get back together with him anyways”
“...Why’s that?” Luffy asked calming down from the kiss
“... Multiple reasons. He just demanded that I get back together with him as if I’m his ‘property’ or something” Law said smiling when Luffy made a disgusted noise. “He also told me he would ‘deal with who I am’”
“Fuck him”
“... The biggest reason I wouldn’t be able to get back with him is the fact that once you remove the status with someone, it’s completely gone, can’t even register as potential soulmates” Law said and Luffy made an ‘ahh’ noise like he understood
“Well it’s his loss”
“...He made me realize something though” Law said leaning in to Luffy’s lips
“What?” Luffy asked hushed
“You’re perfect for me, more than I thought you were” he said kissing him
“Come on guys! Stop fucking and get out here!” someone said banging on their bedroom door
“We’re not fucking!” Law barked out, “When did you even get here Ikkaku!?” he asked standing up and he heard no response and Luffy grinned
“Let’s go”
“You go on ahead, I have my costume to put on”
“Oh right, you’re mean for not telling me what it is” Luffy said with a pout
“It’s a surprise” he said winking and Luffy walked out of the room, not cause Law asked him to but the smell of Sanji’s food was captivating
Once Law was finished with putting his costume on, he left the room to go out to the living room. One Luffy saw him, he burst out in a happy radiant smile
“Nezuko!! Perfect!!” he said running to him and hugging him. Everyone else was in normal Demon Slayer wear and they played more of the Monster Hunter Rise DLC Sunbreak that came out last year. They played in character of the characters of Demon Slayer they were, Law even made muffled sounds like Nezuko does with the bamboo gag in her mouth. They played many quests and played the Anomaly Quests as if they were Demon Slayer missions.
After a while, everyone needed to leave. Ace mentioning to Law he will look into a restraining order for him and Luffy against Kid.
Law and Luffy were laying in their boxer/t-shirt pajamas and laid in each other’s arms
“So, he will be getting put in a mental hospital?”
“I don’t know, he might, but I’m sure Ace will get the restraining orders” Law said and Luffy ‘mmm’ed softly. “Oh, I forgot to get you your gift”
“Gift?”
“You might not know this, but this is the anniversary of the night we registered as potential soulmates” Law said getting up from the bed and gave him the bag with the item he got in it
“... But I didn’t get you anything” Luffy said and Law gently put a hand on his cheek when he got into bed
“You’re everything I ever need” Law said and Luffy blushed. “Go ahead and open it”
Luffy opened his gift and saw it was a really detailed custom figure display with both Law’s favorite anime character and Luffy’s favorite anime characters and on the base was a placard that said ‘Potential Soul Mates to Soulmates, I will always love you, for an eternity’
Luffy was silent and had tears form. Law was a little concerned before Luffy put the figure on the nightstand and hugged Law
“Thank you, it’s perfect”
“I’m glad you like it”
“Like it? I love it! Not more than I love you though”
“I love you too” Law said and eventually both of them fell asleep in each other’s arms with one final thought they shared before darkness consumed them
‘I’m glad potential soulmates exist’
The End
|
Tim shook his hair, feeling the wind picking up. The city smelled like rain, and he wondered if a midnight shower would grace Gotham. The night was already brisk, rain would only make it rather chilling.
He sucked on his tongue, held his small binoculars up, watching the street below. He’d been perched up here for nearly an hour- not because he was scoping anything out for a job-
But because he was hoping he might spot his Bat.
He hadn’t seen Damian since their date, a few days prior. He’d kept up with him- all he had to do was turn on the television to see the youngest Wayne plastered everywhere. The public seemed to have taken quite a liking to Damian, and he seemed to be throwing himself head and heart first into the city, still.
Still repenting, still trying to make a change.
And then there were the news stories about who Batman had apprehended lately. And Damian was a very busy boy, as far as Tim was concerned.
Silently, he was rather proud.
He noticed a few shapes, moving into the alley next to his building- one of them rather small, and Tim frowned, tucking his binoculars away. Told himself he may as well do something instead of just existing out in the cold. He hopped down off the side of the roof, almost silently onto the fire escape, peered over the edge-
And down below, just as he thought, two guys were gesturing to an array of little baggies, bottled pills, to what was most definitely a kid. No more than fifteen.
Tim gritted his teeth, crept down a few levels, before grabbing the edge of the fire escape, launching himself over it and landing in a crouch. He straightened up, just as the two men turned, looking him over.
“Bad decision,” he said, nodding towards their hands. “Selling to kids. Great way to get a target put on your back.”
“Piss off,” one guy said, “what are you, some knock off catwoman.”
“Is that a chick or a dude,” the other said, “I can’t even tell. Might be pretty up against the wall though.”
Tim rolled his eyes, before sauntering over towards them. His hips held that natural sway he’d seen men trip over themselves for, and he let his lips curl into a well practiced smile-
But the moment he reached them, batted his eyes one, he was thrusting the hell of his gloved hand up under one guy’s chin, sending his head jerking back. A swift elbow to the other’s ribs, before he turned- grabbed the first man and held him as he got his knee into his ribs. His breath rushed out and Tim dropped him, before grabbing the second, smashing him up against the wall and pressing tight to his body.
“Think I’d look pretty against a wall,” he hissed, “you should see yourself. And, for the record- I’m more man and woman than you’d ever be able to handle.” He gave a good punch to the guy’s kidneys, before stepping back, watching them staggering up. “Now get out of here before I pluck your teeth out.”
The two exchanged glances, before they took Tim at his word and scrambled off. The kid was still there, looking at him with these big eyes. Tim turned to him, placed his hands on his hips.
“Don’t you have a bedtime?” he asked, and the kid scuffed his worn out sneaker on the ground.
“Nah,” he offered, and Tim could see, in this light, the grease in his hair, the dirt on his tshirt. His hoodie was open, had a rip at the elbow- and he had to be cold. Tim knew under his suit he was chilled.
Tim hummed. “You’re only putting yourself on a shitty path,” he offered, glancing down at one of the baggies that had landed on the ground. He stomped the flat heel of his boot onto it, digging it into the pavement. “You get into the drug culture of this city, and you don’t get out.” The kid said nothing, and Tim’s eyes softened. “You have somewhere to go, tonight?”
He shrugged a shoulder, and Tim took a step closer, pointing out towards the street. “Head outta this alley, and down your left two blocks. Make a right, and you’ll basically land face first at a shelter. Promise it’s a nice one, that Wayne kid just opened it.”
The kid looked up at, and Tim offered him a little smile.
“You’ll be okay there. Promise. Better than you would be out here.” The kid gave a nod, and a final glance at Tim- some sort of silent thanks, like no one had ever offered to even help him before, before he turned, heading out of the alley. Tim followed to the edge of it, watched as the kid walked away-
Following his directions. Tim considered following him the whole way, just to make sure he made it there- but the sound of someone dropping down behind him had him pausing.
He smirked, listened to a few foot steps, before he turned- and just as he expected, there was his Bat.
There was Damian.
“Hello stranger,” Tim purred, “long time no see. You lose my number?”
Damian looked so serious for a minute, before Tim smiled, took a few steps towards him, back into the collective, protective dark.
“I’ve been busy,” Damian offered, moving closer, until he was reach out, get his hands on Tim’s waist. Tim didn’t push them off- and maybe he should have, maybe there was a voice somewhere in his head that reminded him he’d told Damian they had to reevaluate this. Had to fall for each other as Tim and Damian again, and not Batman and Catlad.
But that voice was very, very quiet.
“Mmm, not with other girls I hope?” Tim’s voice was teasing as he reached up, dragged a pointed finger along Damian’s jaw- not enough to hurt, but the sharp edge was evident.
“Would other boys be okay?” Damian teased, and Tim laughed, tipped his head back.
“Wicked boy,” he whispered, and Damian’s hands squeezed on his waist. “I did miss you,” he admitted, adding, “but I kept up with you. You really are busy.”
Damian shrugged a shoulder, changed the subject completely with, “I saw what you did.”
“What? Scaring a few low level drug dealers? I can do that in my sleep.”
“What else you did,” he said, “with the kid.”
Tim frowned. “I wasn’t going to leave him on the streets. And with all the work you’re doing trying to give people in this city a chance, it’d be a waste not to send him to one of your shelters.”
Damian said nothing, simply tugged Tim in, until Tim had his hands splayed on his chest, resting over the bat symbol. “You’ve still got a big heart,” he offered, and Tim knew Damian wasn’t just pulling from this moment, but everything that had happened, back in Austria-
It felt like lifetimes ago.
And yet, Tim still thought about it. Thought about Damian admitting he loved him. And how it terrified him-
Because he wanted to say it back, but still felt too goddamn insecure in whatever they were. Felt like it wouldn’t last, wouldn’t be right- would be a sick parody on whatever they could have, if they let themselves really shed their masks for once.
Still, when Damian leaned down, kissed Tim, there wasn’t a fiber in his body that wanted to push him off. It had been too long, and even though Damian’s lips were cold form the air, Tim still pushed closer, got his arms up around his neck and held on. It turned desperate before Tim even realized the tone was changing, and suddenly Damian was turning, pushing him up against the wall- boxing him in as Tim hooked one leg back behind Damian’s, beneath his cape.
Damian’s tongue flicked against Tim’s lips, but instead of letting him in Tim pushed his own past it, past the other man’s lips- which were quickly warming up- into a mouth that felt like the sweetest fire. Tim moaned, in his throat, and Damian squeezed his waist, moved his hands down to his hips.
Tim pulled back, dropped his head against the wall, and Damian’s mouth was on his neck, sucking on his pulse, teeth grabbing the zipper to his suit and pulling it down to his collar bone. Tim laughed over that, grasped so tightly at Damian’s cape he could have torn it.
“You go- ah,” he broke off, moaned when Damian’s tongue lapped at the hollow of his throat, “days without talking to me, and then you’re so forward.” He squirmed, slid his hips closer- knew that Damian’s kevlar made it so he barely felt anything other than a little pressure, but it was enough. “What am I doing to do with you, my pretty little bat?”
“Whatever you want,” Damian whispered, and his voice was husky, from his throat. Tim shivered, and oh, the possibilities.
But- but- he knew he had to pull himself in.
“That’s so many things,” Tim offered, “but, we had an agreement.” He slid his hips again, couldn’t stop himself, as Damian lifted his head- and Tim wondered what those eyes looked like, behind that cowl. Damian gave a little whine- but he inhaled, slowly, kept himself from kissing Tim again. “And one date doesn’t get you back into my bed, Damian.”
Even if Tim wished he had never left it.
Damian nodded, offered a quiet, “I know,” and then, after clearing his throat. “That’s not… not what I want. Not just that.”
Tim’s smile softened, and he eased back, leaned against the wall and let the city breathe between them. “I know babybat,” he whispered, “I know. I… haven’t forgotten.”
Damian nodded, glanced away. “I still have a lot of city to check on,” he offered, and Tim laughed.
“Go. You’re a busy little bat, and I’m just entertaining myself.”
Damian took a step back, completely separated from Tim. “I’m going to call you,” he said, and Tim settled his hands on his hips.
“You’d better,” he warned, “I’m not patient anymore.” Damian cracked the smallest of smiles, before pulling his grappling gun from his belt, shooting ti up. Tim watched him ride the line up, disappear over the roof ledge-
And then leaned back against the wall again, closing his eyes and tipping his head back, telling himself ti was for the best that he hadn’t dragged Damian back to his apartment. Really.
*
Tim was stepping out of the shower when he heard his phone ringing. He tossed his towel around his waist, stepped from the tiled floor of his bathroom to the plush carpet of his bedroom, unlocking his phone and glancing at the number- and this time, a name attached to it.
He smiled. “Hello Damian.” His voice came out lower, softer, and he heard Damian swallow, like he recognized that tone.
Tim knew he did.
“Is this a bad time?”
“Never a bad time for you,” Tim said, before adding, “Don’t worry- I’m alone. I was in the shower.” He heard Damian exhale, a little relief, and laughed. “What? Think I had company?”
“I wasn’t sure.”
Tim paused, before he said, too honestly, “there’s no one else.” Not in a world where Damian loved him and he was trying to make sure they were steady, sturdy enough for him to say it back, to admit it to someone aside of the damn mirror or his pillows.
Damian was quiet for a minute, before asking, “How short notice would it be of me to ask you out, tonight?”
Tim smiled. “I think for you, anything over an hour is enough time for me to get dolled up. Anything special?”
“I… have to attend an opera tonight with father, for appearances- and while I am not looking forward to it, I would enjoy myself if you came with me.”
Tim giggled, tossing his towel away and heading to his closet, pulling it open and standing there, naked, looking at his clothes. “Not exactly the reasons I’d like to be asked out,” Tim offered, “but I can consider.” He licked his lips- and then chose to dive into the one hold on it- “Bruce-”
“Father knows I am asking. He… he told me you were at the manor. He wishes to see you again. Tim, please.”
Tim sighed. “You had better look good tonight,” Tim warned, “and there had better be some champagne or something. Make it worth my while.”
“Anything you want,” Damian said, as Tim reached forward, rubbed his fingers along one of his dresses.
Oh, that anything was very specific- and Tim was telling himself that if this went alright, maybe he could let himself have a little taste.
*
Damian had sent a car for Tim that night, but did not come himself. Tim wasn’t overly surprised, nor did he blame him- and the ride through the city gave him the time to check his dark lined eyes, the harsh color of his red-painted lips. The other night had reminded Tim how much he liked pushing at Damian’s control-
And while he may have still had the goal of really getting to know Damian more, that didn’t mean he couldn’t have a little fun doing it.
The car pulled up to the opera house, an usher opening the door and offering Tim a hand. Tim’s heels clicked a she walked, black against the sheer-black of his tights, under the form fitting black dress. It was sleeveless, sported a high neckline, so the pearl necklace he wore would stand out starker, against the dark fabric.
He stepped inside, considered calling Damian to find him, but he hadn’t even reached for his purse when he spotted him across the large room, looking almost nervous as he waited.
Tim took a moment to take him in- realized Damian had taken his you had better look good threat to heart. His suit was a dark purple, in the right light it could look black, his button up actually black, a few buttons popped. No tie- and he could see the golden skin, beneath his collar bone.
Tim bit his lip for a moment, before crossing the room, chin up, shoulders back. The walk of catlad without the skin tight suit- substituted with a designer dress. He was half way across the room when Damian spotted him-
And simply stared.
Perfect.
“You took my threat to heart,” Tim offered, reaching up, dragging his finger over Damian’s collar bone, the bit of skin along his chest. “I like.”
Damian swallowed, simply blurted out, “you look amazing,” and Tim laughed. It was the honest sort, and Damian grinned, offering his arm. Tim glanced at it for a moment, before he took it, following him towards the elevators. They rode them up towards the private balconies, heading towards the one that Tim remembered, from his days of showing up with Bruce, with a much younger Damian.
It hit him, for a moment, walking in a suit then,the well practiced, fake smile- Damian huffing about his boredom, Bruce hushing him. Public outings that made them look like the good family Gotham wanted to see.
And now, what were they?
Damian held the curtain open, and Tim stepped in, telling himself he was ready. But the moment he saw Bruce, settled in his wheel chair, it was a moment of near-crippling self loathing. A flash of finding him, that night.
Maybe he hadn’t been ready- but there was no way to back out now.
“Hello Tim,” Bruce said, turning his chair.
“Hello Bruce.”
There was nothing, not a sound for a moment- and then, “You look good.” Bruce offered him a smile- this sort of honest kind that had Tim thinking of when Bruce had snuck in candy, one time, to entertain he and Damian when even Tim hadn’t felt like putting on a show for the city.
How he’s probably eaten half of it despite saying it was for the two of them.
Tim gave in, walked across the small balcony, leaned over and tossed his arms around Bruce. He hugged him tightly, like he had in Damian’s room- and Bruce embraced him back, rubbed his back as Tim turned, lightly kissed his cheek.
Maybe this would be okay.
Tim took his seat, noticed Damian had disappeared. Bruce turned again, to face the stage.
“I’m glad he talked you into coming,” Bruce said, and Tim rolled his pretty eyes.
“Not exactly the ideal date. Being asked because he’s miserable, and having dear old dad chaperoning.” Tim flashed a smile. “It… is good to see you, though.”
Bruce smiled at that, leaning back a little. “He’s trying, Tim.”
“And you know this…?”
“Because sometimes he talks to me, now,” Bruce admitted. “He’s told me things. About the two of you.” Tim felt his cheeks suddenly burning, but Bruce didn’t look at him. “About what you want, Tim.”
Oh. Tim said nothing, let the silence lapse, before Bruce finished,
“It’s admirable- and I think a good move, for the two of you. But,” Bruce glanced over at him, was still smiling, “Just know I’m hoping it doesn’t take too long. I know Damian cares about you. And I know you care about him.”
“You sound confident in how it will end,” Tim mused, trying to appear relaxed- when in reality, his heart was thundering in his chest. Was Bruce… was Bruce supporting them?
“Because I am,” was all he said, before turning back towards the stage. A moment later, and Damian was coming back in, as the lights dimmed. He walked around his father, handing him one of three glasses he was managing to carry in his hands, and Bruce took it, thanking him. He moved back around them, to his own chair, leaned over and offered one to Tim.
“You really listened,” Tim whispered, taking the glass of champagne. Damian smiled, as he sat down, dared to lean over and place the ghost of a kiss to Tim’s cheek, before settling to stare forward and watch as the show began.
*
Tim remembered how much he rather hated the opera. His attention strayed quickly, and he chose, in the dark, to study Damian next to him. The curve of his lips and the flicker of his eyes- and the way he kept looking over at him.
They way they were constantly caught.
He wasn’t sure exactly when it happened, but at some point he reached over, his champagne empty now, found Damian’s hand- and held it. Damian’s thumb rubbed along his knuckles, and at one point, he lifted Tim’s hand, kissed it gently.
Tim felt fluttery, felt stupidly in love and it was… good. Good to feel like he wasn’t looking at Batman and spiraling into a cycle of lust- good to be looking at Damian and thinking he looked handsome and wanting to kiss him silly, to crawl into his lap and hear Damian say his name.
Tim may never know if Bruce truly, come the intermission, caught sight of an old business associate- or if he could feel it, had been watching them himself. But he excused himself to finish out the show with a man Tim did not see, telling Tim it had been good to see him- and that he still wished he would visit.
And telling Damian he would get home just fine on his own.
Tim tapped his fingers on his own thigh, as the lights began to dim again. Damian leaned over to him, whispered, “You look only half miserable.”
Tim laughed, turning and gripping Damian’s chin, keeping him from pulling away, the points of his painted nails gently pressing into his skin. “I’m good at hiding the rest of my boredom,” he teased.
Damian smiled. “Would you string me up if I kissed you- to ease the boredom, of course.”
Tim kept his smile, kept his hold on Damian’s chin. “If it’s to end the boredom, I suppose it’s alright.” His eyes screamed he was teasing- his smiled screamed kiss me, and when Damian did, Tim fell right into it, like he had, the night before.
Except he wasn’t kissing Batman. He was kissing Damian.
Damian got an arm around his shoulders, and Tim let go of his chin, in favor and pressing his hand to his chest. It should have ended, after only a moment- but it didn’t, and Tim was getting dizzy, was shifting as Damian seemed to want to climb right from his seat into Tim’s- as Damian tongue pushed into his mouth and Tim nipped at it, sucked playfully.
They tasted like champagne and long awaited relief- and Tim decided, in that moment, that this was going just fine-
That they deserved a reward.
He pulled away, laughing because Damian’s mouth was smudged red from his lipstick, before he stood up, made a show of turning to stand between Damian’s legs, before dropping down.
“Tim?” Damian asked, eyes going wide.
“If you don’t scream, no one will know,” Tim teased, getting his hands on Damian’s thighs and squeezing. Damian’s hips rocked up, as Tim went for his fly.
“You wanted to wait,” Damian said, but god he wasn’t stopping Tim.
“I’m terrible at self-denial,” Tim admitted, “and I think we deserve a reward. For not giving in last night.” He reached into Damian’s slacks- an Damian wasn’t stopping him, was whimpering his name as Tim rubbed him through his underwear, before pulling his cock free, stroking slowly.
There wasn’t a single other protest, wasn’t a real moment of someone could walk in- because both knew no one did. They might as well have been in their own private world.
Tim leaned over Damian, opened his painted lips and eased down, over his cock. One of Damian’s hands got in his hair, but didn’t tug. He petted slowly, whispering Tim’s name, over and over again.
Tim closed his eyes, squeezed his own thighs together. His chest was tight over the way Damian was saying his name, like it was something perfect, how gentle he was being. Different, from other nights. Like he forgot he had power in his body-
But Tim didn’t feel it either, felt like he could only move at a pace just face enough to keep driving Damian towards the edge- he wasn’t teasing and he wasn’t reducing him to a whimpering mess-
He was just making him feel good, because he cared.
Damian moaned again, as Tim’s tongue dragged along the underside of his cock. He thrust up gently, was whispering Tim’s name, until it was lost under his breath as his cock pulsed, and he came over Tim’s tongue. Tim swallowed, had barely pulled off before Damian got his hand on his chin, guided him up as he doubled over, kissed Tim until Tim was dizzy. He licked into his mouth, before he was grabbing for Tim, pulling him up into his lap- shoving his dress up around his hips and rubbing him through his tights and underwear.
“Can I?” Damian asked, dragging his mouth down Tim’s neck, who nodded, sighing as Damian pulled everything down to the juncture of his thighs, got his hand around his cock. Tim rocked his hips with him, moaned so obscenely he could feel Damian shudder.
“This is… going to ruin your suit,” Tim teased, but instead of the laugh he expected, Damian simply looked at him with hazy eyes, before he was pushing him back, o that Tim was splayed awkwardly over the arm of Damian’s chair, into Tim’s own.
Damian leaned over, got his mouth around Tim, and Tim gave in, gave up- gave it all away as he grasped at Damian’s hair, thrust up- was gone within moments, shaking with his release.
Damian lifted back up, licked his lips, as Tim glanced at him, before letting his head drop back- laughing, because this was ridiculous.
“We just did that,” Tim said, and Damian grinned.
“We did.” He reached down, working to fix his slacks, as Tim sat up slowly. “And it was far better than whatever is going on down on that stage.”
Tim covered his mouth as he laughed, before he swiped his hand back into his hair. “Is my lipstick a mess?”
Damian reached up, wiped at a smudge beneath Tim’s mouth, before he shook his head. Tim smiled.
“You’ll probably still want to take a shower later, I’m sure I left a little behind.” Tim winked playfully- and Damian’s cheeks tinged pink. And god, he was cute when he blushed. “Help me get presentable again, before, god forbid, Bruce comes back.” Tim slid into Damian’s lap, as Damian carefully tugged everything back up into place- daring to rub his hands over the swell of Tim’s ass, Tim tipping his head back and sighing, before tugging his dress down over his hips.
“Father will not be back,” Damian said, “He…” he paused, and Tim lifted his head, questioning him with a quirk of his brow. “He does not expect me home this evening. He was rather adamant in his jokes about it.”
Tim stared at Damian for a moment- and oh, Bruce thought-
“I shouldn’t have said anything,” Damian said, but Tim shook his head.
“Maybe…” he started, pausing to think through his words. “Maybe you’d want to come home with me. Maybe I want you to.” Tim reached up, traced Damian’s jaw with a single finger. “I’m not promising you anything, Damian- because I’m pretty sure we just had our moment. But…” he inhaled again. “There is something I might want.”
“What’s that?” Damian was looking at him again, like Tim might be the center of the world- and in that moment, every time Damian had left hurt even more- and every time Tim hadn’t outright asked him to stay weighed heavy.
“For you to not leave,” Tim whispered, “before morning. If you come home with me- don’t leave again.”
Damian slid his fingers back into Tim’s hear, leaned in, pressed their foreheads together. Tim knew why Damian had left- the same reasons he’d never asked him to stay. The same reasons he’s chased him off, at times.
Punishment, self loathing, a personal purgatory- still harboring all the blame, for what had happened to Bruce. And giving himself a taste of what he wanted, and then denying himself- it hurt down in his core, in ways Tim understood.
“I won’t leave,” Damian whispered. “We’re done with that, Tim. We’re… moving on. Father has forgiven us- we have to forgive ourselves.” His other arm locked tightly around Tim. “I want to wake up with you. I still love you.”
Tim nodded. And while he didn’t echo the words- he wouldn’t deny to himself that he was so far in love with Damian that he wasn’t sure he knew the way back out. |
The next few days, Hermione avoided Riddle completely. It wasn't that hard as obviously he wasn't very keen on spending time with his supposed girlfriend anyway. Hermione spotted him sometimes hanging around with his junior Death Eaters. Maybe Riddle should take one of them as his boyfriend, because apparently Hermione was not up to his standards. His cruel words still circled through her head and she was hit by the strong urge to curse the git whenever she saw him.
Angrily, Hermione slammed the door as she entered her dorm. Her bag was carelessly flung on her bed, before she threw herself on one of the leather sofas. Since Riddle's verbal attack, her temper had been on an all-time high and the classes she had to pull through pretending to be on Rosalie's level weren't helping the matter either. Why, just now professor Arterbury had given her a solid 'T' for her latest essay and Hermione felt like throwing up. School just wasn't that much fun when you constantly failed all your classes. She groaned tiredly as she stretched out on the sofa, trying get comfortable.
"You look exhausted," a voice startled Hermione.
She turned her head and found Sarah lounging on the armchair, filing her nails. Hermione really didn't appreciate the company at the moment, but she still greeted the Slytherin,
"Oh… Hi. I didn't see you there."
Sarah shrugged as if she couldn't care any less. "Why're you not with Riddle?"
Hermione groaned and put her arm over her eyes. With her lying on the couch and Sarah sitting on the chair, she almost felt like being in a psychiatrist's office. Maybe it was that feeling that drove Hermione to admit,
"Tom's an asshole. I really don't get why he's so popular."
"Well," Sarah supplied indifferently. "He has good grades, is a really powerful wizard and it doesn't hurt that he looks hot."
"Isn't that nice for him?" Hermione said sardonically.
"What's wrong? Did you two argue?"
Hermione peered at the other girl. Sarah had stopped filing her nails and reached for a light red polish.
"Tom's an inconsiderate bastard," she told the other girl, voice tight with anger.
"Uh-hu." Sarah nodded, unperturbed by Hermione's lost temper. "If he's so horrible, why're you still with him?"
Hermione had no answer to that. Being Riddle's girlfriend was her cover story. She couldn't break up with him. After all, Rosalie Black would never do that.
"Just break up with him," Sarah repeated languidly.
Again, Hermione didn't reply. She had no idea what to do. Her options were severely limited. If she stayed with Riddle, her cover would sooner or later be compromised. If she broke up with him, she risked people getting suspicious. Her only hope was that Dumbledore succeeded in finding a way to send her into the future before her lies blew up in her face.
At Hermione's continued silence, Sarah enclosed suggestively, "I hear Mulciber has the hots for you."
"Mulciber? How'd you know?" Hermione asked more to say anything than out of real interest.
"He told me," came Sarah's voice, sounding quite blasé. "In detail, actually. Wish I could etch those images out of my brain."
Hermione chuckled softly. Merlin, she was feeling so tired. All this stress was slowly taking its toll. She needed to ask Dumbledore if he had found anything yet. Then again, he had said he would tell her as soon as something came up. Maybe she should just give up and throw herself from the Astronomy tower, Hermione thought wryly. At least her headache would be gone.
"By the way, did you talk with your brother?" Sarah asked loftily.
"About what?" Hermione mumbled tiredly.
"Merlin, Rosalie. Try to focus," the blonde scoffed. "Cygnus, you wanted to talk to him. We're almost out of Murt."
That didn't clear anything up for Hermione, although the irritated look on Sarah's face told her that it probably should.
"Murt…?"
"Seriously, don't play dumb," Sarah rebuked her. "I already gave you the money. Get the Murtlap Essence from Cygnus."
"Why would you-"
Hermione interrupted herself as the description of Murtlap Essence finally came to her. 'Solution of strained and pickled tentacles of Murtlaps. Usually applied on the skin to soothe cuts and abrasions'. Hermione also knew that it was not intended to be resorbed via the gastro-intestinal system. The hallucinogens in the Murtlap's skin would induce 'an altered perception of reality coupled with an elevated mood'. Hermione threw Sarah a withering look. Of course, she thought wryly. Of course, they would be doing drugs and selling them, too. Maybe that finally solved the mystery of how Rosalie could stand being Riddle's girlfriend.
"Okay," Hermione assured, just not caring anymore. "Sure, I'll talk with Cygnus."
Sarah nodded imperiously and returned to polishing her nails. Hermione irritably rubbed at her temples. She didn't even know what Cygnus looked like, her own alleged brother.
"I'm going to take a bath," Hermione told the blonde.
Sarah gave a noncommittal grunt while she inspected her nails. Hermione ignored the girl and shuffled into the bathroom. Maybe a hot bath would help her relieve a bit of her stress.
~.~.~
Hermione did feel a tiny bit more relaxed after her bath and a quick nap. She almost felt like a human being again. Yawning contently, she trekked to the Great Hall. It was dinner time and she intended to stuff her face before she went back to bed. She hadn't even bothered to put on her complete uniform, school robe and tie still lying in the dorm. Hermione didn't care. This wasn't even her body. On her way she heard a shaky voice coming from a dark corridor she had just passed.
"-can't tell them," the voice sobbed. "Please. They wouldn't… wouldn't understand."
The fear in that voice stood in harsh contrast to the fake solicitude in the one answering, "Oh but, Becky. You're lying to them. It's just notright."
Hermione groaned in frustration as she recognized the second voice. Immediately, her elevated mood evaporated and her head started to ache again.
"Please, Tom. Why does it even matter?" the first voice, Becky, pleaded desperately.
"You can't expect me to lie to my own housemates," Riddle replied, something sharp and dangerous hidden underneath the silk of his voice. "Corner knew the truth, didn't he?"
Reluctantly, Hermione stepped into the corridor. As expected, she saw Riddle loitering there. With one arm he leaned against the wall, successfully boxing in a terrified Ravenclaw girl between his body and the stone wall. Threateningly, Riddle leered down at the girl, devious glint shining in his eyes.
"They're my friends," Becky whispered unsteadily.
Hermione silently stepped a bit closer. They hadn't noticed her yet. She felt disgusted with Riddle's behaviour. The girl was barely older than fourteen and clearly terrified of him. Hermione watched with mounting anger how Riddle leaned a bit down to the girl, vile smirk twisting up his lips. Hermione's first impulse was to step in and help the Ravenclaw, but once again her hands were tied. As Rosalie Black there was no way she could confront Riddle. Feeling horrible for leaving the poor girl, Hermione made to turn away. It was then that Riddle hissed,
"They wouldn't be your friends if they knew what you are, Mudblood."
The last word was spat with so much revulsion that Becky jerked away from Riddle as if he had slapped her. Tears sprang to the girl's eyes and Hermione saw red. Resolutely, she shoved Rosalie Black into the last recess of her mind and there was nothing she could do as her temper snapped. Hermione opened her mouth and snarled, anger burning around the name,
"Tom!"
Both the other occupants in the corridor looked at her. At first Becky seemed to be immensely relieved, but that disappeared as the girl recognized Hermione. Soon the terror was back on her pretty face. Riddle on the other hand glared at Hermione darkly, obviously displeased by his girlfriend's interference.
"What the fuck do you think you are you doing?!" Hermione snapped at him furiously.
Riddle cocked an annoyed eyebrow. "Can't you see? I'm right in the middle of something."
Hermione didn't answer him and stepped over to them. Scanning the still shaking Ravenclaw girl, she found that by now the tears had brimmed over and the girl cried silently. Hermione threw a withering glare at Riddle. Then she smiled at the girl and suggested kindly,
"Why don't you go to the Great Hall? It's dinner time. I'll handle this here."
The Ravenclaw stared up at her with wide, anxious eyes. Clearly, she didn't trust Hermione any more than Riddle. Finally, though, the girl made up her mind, nodded jerkily and quickly scurried away down the corridor. Immediately, Riddle wanted to follow her, but Hermione stopped him by grabbing his arm.
"Where do you think you're going?"
Temper flaring dangerously, she glared up at him. How could he be so cruel? Terrorizing innocent girls? Just what was wrong with Tom Riddle? Hermione was completely fed up with his intolerable behaviour. Thunderous expression on his face, Riddle wrenched his arm away from her. There was murderous threat wrapped around his cold voice as he said,
"I really hope for your sake, you have a good explanation for your behaviour."
Hermione shook her head in exasperation and snapped heatedly, "Why in Merlin's name do you have to pull shit like that? Seriously, whatmakes you think this is even remotely okay?"
"That little freak is a Mudblood," Riddle spat at her as if it explained his despicable behaviour.
Hermione felt her magic giving an angry jerk and her fingers itched to pull her wand. No, she thought to herself irately. No, Hermione. He's not worth it. She couldn't help it, though, as her anger poured out in verbal form.
"Oh noes," Hermione exclaimed, grabbing her chest theatrically. "A Muggleborn?! In Hogwarts? Quickly now, let's burn her lest it spreads." She threw Riddle a dark look, dropped the sarcasm and added venomously, "Can't you just get over yourself?"
Riddle's eyes narrowed and he scanned her for a moment. Hermione could see something dark and dangerous dancing in his eyes. The intimidating look on his face only managed to spur Hermione's own temper.
Malice wrapped around the edges of his voice, Riddle said, "I don't know what's up with you lately, but I don't like it. What happened to you?"
Hermione gritted her teeth at his sharp inquiry. Dimly, she realized that Riddle getting suspicious of her was the last thing she needed, but she was unable to stop now.
"Nothing 'happened' to me," Hermione sniped. "Is it such a strange thing that I should question your motives of threatening a fourteenyear old girl? I think not."
With that Hermione turned on her heels and continued her way to the Great Hall. Her magic raged inside of her and she doubted she could hold it back much longer. To Hermione's frustration a fuming Riddle followed her, clearly not yet ready to admit defeat.
"You know what?" he hissed, nasty glint in his eyes. "Just because I fuck you doesn't mean I won't hurt you if you continue provoking me."
Hermione stomped down the corridor and retorted, sarcasm dripping from her voice, "Charming. Is this how you sweet-talk the ladies?"
She could feel his dark magic crackling irately in the air, but at this point just didn't care anymore. Hermione was through with this.
"Treat carefully," Riddle told her, a menacing tint twisting his voice. "So far, you've only seen my nice side. I don't have any reservations showing you my other side."
Another hot wave of anger hit Hermione hard as she heard his threat. Was that the only thing he could do? Threaten people and hurt them? How pathetic! Hermione bristled in anger as she stomped into the hallway leading to the Great Hall, still with Riddle following her.
"I've had it up to here," She gesticulated wildly. "with you, Tom. With your insults and threats. I'm done with this. Just leave me the hell alone."
A nasty smirk distorted his handsome features as Riddle scoffed at her harshly, "As if you could do anything on your own. Useless slag."
Finally, they reached the Great Hall. Still arguing with a stubborn Riddle, Hermione angrily kicked open the doors and marched into the hall. She was not going to miss dinner because Riddle was again being a right bastard. The whole student body was already assembled, sitting at their house tables and enjoying dinner.
"I don't care what you think, Tom," Hermione hissed at him, ice frosting her voice. "I stopped caring a long time ago."
"And you think I care about you?" Riddle venomously snarled at her.
Dimly, Hermione noticed how, upon their entry, the Great Hall had grown rather silent. The students had stopped eating and instead stared at the spectacle going on between their Head Boy and his girlfriend.
"No, I know you don't care," Hermione lacerated, her venomous tone making a few first-year Hufflepuffs jump in their seats. "I mean, that's your thing, isn't it? Not giving a shit about anything but yourself."
White hot anger washed through her, making her magic bristle and crackle in the air. Voice rising, she yelled at him, "Are you even able to have normal emotions? You seriously belong in therapy, Riddle."
Riddle stood before her, his frosty eyes boring into her, while his magic destructively stormed around him. Hermione saw a few of the students sitting closest flinch away. Riddle abruptly took a step towards her, making Hermione reach for her wand. There was no attack, though. Instead he bent down to her and, murderous look on his face, whispered into her ear,
"If you ever talk to me like that again, I will make you regret it."
The threat behind his words was blatant and Riddle didn't even try to hide it. Fire burning in her eyes, Hermione grabbed him by the collar. She heard students near-by gasp, but paid them no attention. Instead, Hermione pulled Riddle closer and snarled furiously, loud voice echoing through the whole hall,
"Fine. Then maybe it's best we never talk again."
Hermione released her tight hold on him as Riddle stepped away. In a deathly cold voice, he replied, "What do you mean by that?"
"It's over," Hermione clamoured heatedly. "We're through!"
Riddle's expression was almost comic, as if he didn't understand the concept of a girl breaking up with him. Hermione for one was in no mood to wait until he came to terms with it.
"Good-bye, Tom," she said frostily, turned around and left him standing there.
Hermione stomped to the nearest table – which was Hufflepuff's – and grabbed a cheese sandwich, glowering at the students that stared at her with wide eyes. Then she marched from the Great Hall, coldly ignoring the upcoming whispers and murmurs from the other students who seemed to be quite excited by all the drama.
{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}} |
Automatically Stiles called upon his Visions, searching through every escape plan for the best but his Sight screamed inside his head and blinded him. He jerked back instinctively, so hard the chair rocked backwards. Mark advanced on him with the knife and Stiles tried to kick out but his legs were taped up just as tight as his arms. He twisted but it was no use. The psychopath grabbed Stiles’ hair and tilted his neck back, running the blade along the hollow above his collar bone. Stiles could feel his heart beat against the cold metal. Calm, calm. Try to remain calm. Except calm wasn’t something Stiles did well. What Stiles did well was running, screaming and panicking! Mark lifted the knife away so that he could unbutton Stiles’ shirt, giving unfettered access to his chest.
Seeing his chance Stiles threw his body forward as hard as he could, nutting Mark, then hurling himself backwards so that the chair fell over dragging the man with him. He heard something crack and he could move his legs. One of the chair legs had broken! As Mark struggled to get up, Stiles managed to kick him in something soft and squidgy before rolling over. He still couldn’t stand but he could at least now propel himself along the floor away from the man. Throwing himself back down on the other leg he managed to get that free too as the ancient chair splintered. Now he could crawl. He was halfway to the door when he was hauled backwards.
Mark kicked Stiles in the side and knocked him down. The knife was in his hand. He was standing over Stiles ready to strike.
“If you’re going to be like that little one I’ll just cut it right out of you now.”
Stiles wriggled away, kicking and thrashing, but it was only buying himself time. He wasn’t going to be able to get away, not on his own when no one knew where he was.
He heard a roar in the distance. No. Not a roar. A howl.
Mark and Stiles looked at each other. Stiles kicked for all he was worth, thrashing the chair against the floor to try and break an arm off to swing. His head connected with Mark’s a few times. Each time his brain felt like it was about to split open.
He kept trying to scream but the noise was just a muffled yelp against the gag. They were making a lot of noise; Derek must be able to hear him, smell him. Shit! He’d gone all over the warehouse, his smell would be everywhere. Given enough time, Derek would find him but could Stiles give him enough time?
He felt the knife kiss against his skin as he kicked out and suddenly there was blood everywhere. Stiles didn’t know if it was his or Mark’s but either way it would make his scent easier to find. Stiles fought as well as he could, as well as he knew how without his powers to guide him but Mark still got the upper hand. He knelt on Stiles chest making it impossible for him to breathe. The man couldn’t help toy with him, even in this situation, and pressed the knife tip against Stiles’ breastbone until a dimple of blood raised up under the blade.
A colossal crunch sounded as something slammed into the door, shaking the whole wall. There was another roar of frustration and Stiles could see the hesitation in Mark’s eyes.
Stiles took that moment. He twisted his hips, feeling the tip of the blade cut a gash across his chest but Mark went flying across the room. The door finally gave way along with half the wall leaving Derek in a heap of debris in the middle of the room. His eyes were red beacons of rage. Mark looked between wolf and the missing wall and ran.
From the corridor was the sound of another wolf and a collision. Mark stumbled back into the room. A wolf stepped into the door way. Isaac. He was hemming him in with Derek as they circled around him.
Scott dove round the corner of the room, running straight for Stiles. Stiles watched as Derek walked up to Mark and grabbed him by the throat, claws digging in enough to make him bleed. The man struggled but Derek pulled him close and growled into his face. Derek was going to kill him.
Screaming, Stiles remembered the gag in his mouth. He kept screaming and pulling until Scott paid attention and ripped the gag off, just as Derek swung back to slaughter Stiles’ attacker.
“Derek, stop!” he screamed.
No other force on Earth would have been able to stop Derek at that point apart from the sound of Stiles’ voice. Derek stayed his hand turning his gaze back to Stiles on the floor, shaking his head. Dropping Mark, Derek ran over to Stiles, collapsing by his side. He was still wolfed out, his blood too high to change back, and nuzzled into Stiles.
Isaac leapt forward and stood over Mark, roaring when the man tried to get up. Derek turned back growling.
“No. Don’t. Stop!”
“Why?”
“Because this isn’t a fucking werewolf turf war!” Stiles shouted.
He was crying. He didn’t mean to, didn’t want to, didn’t try to stop. Derek cradled him, slashing his wrists free and the pair of them clung on to each other. Stiles could feel him growling low in his chest.
“I’m fine,” Stiles lied. “Okay, so I have a concussion and my chest has a massive rip in it but I’ll… I’ll be fine.”
“He needs to get to a hospital Derek,” Scott said urgently.
Stiles couldn’t see how badly he was hurt but it can’t have been good from Scott’s voice. Derek snarled at him and clutched Stiles’ tighter, the wolf’s protective instinct taking over.
“Police…” Stiles got out. His whole body, even his bones, was shaking. “We need to call the police.”
“What? But-”
“It’s what regular people would do in a kidnapping. It’s what- it’s what we need to do?”
“But he’s seen us,” said Isaac.
Mark reached up to hit Isaac in the groin, but the boy punched down, knocking the man out cold.
“He’s a fucking certified insane crazy ass wannabe murderer,” Stiles spat out. As usual Derek’s arms were leaching the fear and hurt away. If he was in Derek’s arms something was right in the universe. “No one will believe him, so can we please get the fuck out of here before I bleed to death.”
Scott was already calling the cops. Stiles stood up and immediately regretted it. He’d left his brain about a foot behind his head and he nearly collapsed back down. Derek caught him and ran a hand through his hair. The pain subsided but Stiles could still feel the sinister cloudiness of his concussion dulling his brain. He really did need to get to a hospital. He heard Scott asking them to send an ambulance too. His Dad was going to be so mad.
“How did you find me?” Stiles asked.
“Danny. Hacked the system. Found all the messages sent from Derek’s number.”
“Danny?” Stiles said trying to connect all the dots when they weren’t in the right place in his head. “Danny’s here? Where is he-”
“What. The. Fuck.”
Danny was standing in the corridor looking at them. No. He was looking at Isaac. The fully wolfed out Isaac standing over the bloody body of a man who didn’t look like he was breathing too well.
Fear changed Isaac back instantly. He took a step forward towards Danny who staggered backwards looking at him with horror.
“What the fuck? What the fuck?” Danny kept saying over and over again.
“Danny. I can explain. Just-”
Allison ran up behind Danny, looking at the scene and realising she was too late.
“I’m sorry Derek I tried but he’s the goalie of the lacrosse team-”
“WHAT THE FUCK!” screamed Danny again. “I mean I knew something was up with you guys suddenly getting all buddy-buddy but what the fuck!”
Isaac approached Danny, trying to lay a comforting hand on his shoulder but he jerked his arm away and took a few larger steps back, holding his hands out in warning.
“Danny. Danny. I know this is a shock,” said Allison holding his hands. “When I found out that Scott was a werewolf-”
“A werewolf!” Danny exclaimed. “Are you kidding me! A fucking werewolf! This is a joke right? A prank? Well not funny guys.”
“Danny,” pleaded Isaac. “Danny this isn’t a joke. But the police are going to be here any minute-”
“Fuck the police! You’re telling me that you’re a fucking werewolf and I’m supposed to be fucking calm about this?”
Allison laid a reassuring hand on Danny, calming him down, trying to get him to go along with the plan. The room was alive with sound and colours and people moving back and forth quickly. Everyone was shouting at each other. It was making Stiles feel really sick. He felt the vomit rising in this throat as he threw up. Derek’s face appeared before him, blurred like they were underwater.
Where was that damn ambulance? |
Arriving home late that afternoon, Jess had mixed feelings. She felt guilty for what she had allowed Lee the big black massage therapist to do to her body. After all, she was married. But she also felt very thrilled that she had been able to give this man such a huge hard-on.
His cock was without a doubt the biggest cock she had ever seen in her life. She shivered with excitement when she remembered it throbbing and jumping in her two small hands as she played with it exploring the entire length. She even played with the large sack under it that held his big balls. She giggled as she was thinking he would be able to full her small body completely with his cum that was produced by those big balls. She also felt very satisfied after having four beautiful hard orgasms from his touch and the full body massage he gave her.
As she started dinner she waited for her husband to come home from work. As she did, she remembered again what had happened to her today. She remembered how it made her feel when Lee stroked her pussy to her first earth shattering orgasm. It was one of the best if not the best she had ever had in her life. She smiled a little as she felt the most devilish tingling between her legs and her pussy almost gushing with its wetness. She was sure she was going to fuck her husband like hell tonight right after dinner, maybe before if he felt anywhere near like she did right now.
She realized that she had let a black man give her a wonderful full body massage. Since she had been married Jess had only let her husband see her body like Lee saw it today. She was laying wide open and completely nude on the table for him to enjoy her body. She closed her eyes as she remembered how he had pleased her. Lee had not only seen all of her nude body but took her to more than one orgasm as she let him touch her. She got a warm feeling in her pussy and her nipples got rock hard again as she remembered how Lee had massaged her body everywhere. Yes, she had liked it very much. Every inch of her small body had now had two men's hands and mouths on her pussy, her husband's and Lee.
It started with Lee had given her one orgasm mostly through her breasts. But she gave in and had allowed him to also massage her pussy and ass too. She had allowed two of his thick fingers to bring her off again and again as he fingered fucked her to a second orgasm and a third and fourth with his mouth on her clit. She remembered to her pleasant surprised that the thickness of his two fingers was as big as her husband's cock.
And, Lee had made her cum and also a little pee came out (because she always felt like peeing when her "G"spot was rubbed! It was also the first time she had achieved a full orgasm from stimulation of her "G" spot. She remembered experiencing a mini gush of cum but not a puddle on the table as she got off. That too gave her another chill now.
As she sat there in her kitchen with her eyes closed, she remembered feeling Lee's huge cock as it rubbed against her arm and hand. She was stunned when she gathered the courage to take it in her hands. She smiled thinking how she trembled at his size. But she was curious and really wants to see how big Lee's cock would get when he was fully hard. Another shiver came over her as she remembered and pictured in her mine's eye how huge his cock was when he lay it over her vagina and it pointed half way up to her belly button.
She almost laughed as she smiled thinking it had been so close to her vagina's wet open hole. If she wanted too she could have lifted up just a little and it would have slipped right in between her fat and stimulated pussy lips. She knew she would want to hold and play with it again the next time she saw him. She smiled as she was thinking of how it would feel if she sucked on the big purple head. A soft moan escaped her lips as she remembered how big the cock head had been.
She realized she might have to give Lee her first non-married blowjob tomorrow to make him cum. After all she had left him so hard and throbbing today she knew he would want to cum as badly as she had. She knew his balls must have ached for release when she left him there like that. She wondered again how it would feel sucking on such a long and thick cock. She would take it slowly and she knew Lee would allow her to take it slowly. She felt she would try to take as much of his cock in her mouth and throat as she could. She would use her hands and fingers and saliva and maybe some of that special oil he used on her vagina today to stroke him and make him cum. Yes, she would do that for him soon, maybe tomorrow when she met him for that special massage. What did he call it? Oh yes, a Yoni massage.
But she made a pack that there would be no intercourse, no fucking, well, no cock fucking anyway tomorrow! She might let him bring her off with his fingers and mouth again. "Oh yes, that was so good with his mouth on my little clit and his fingers inside me," she whispered to herself, "It was very, very good today."
She was thinking about sucking his monster cock. She knew that Lee would want to cum in her mouth. She wondered about it and then she felt she might just let him. If she did, it would be her first taste of a black man's cum, well actually any man's cum except her husband's. She wondered about the taste. She wouldn't swallow all of it but she decide that if the oral sex happened with Lee like she felt it might, she would taste enough and swallow a little of his cum to know how it tasted. She would then compare it to her husband's cum. Jessica smiled as she daydreamed about his big black cock.
She remembered how Lee had slowly seduced her today. She loved that feeling of seduction. She wanted to be seduced by a man a lover. She actually needed it in order to allow a man to take her. If she were seduced properly by Lee, she knew she would allow more things sexually to happen between them. But her Asian values always seemed to be there and sometimes in the way. They needed to be broken down bit by bit by him if he was to have her. Lee had done a very good job today doing just that. She closed her eyes and then said softly, "I can't wait to see you tomorrow Lee. And I can't wait to find out what a Yoni massage is all about."
She was sure if it was better than the things Lee did to her today, well .....yes, she would be very ready to be fucked. But she again promised herself she wouldn't do it tomorrow. After that she couldn't be sure and honestly couldn't say yes or no. Time would tell. She would save that idea and think on it. Perhaps she may not ever do it with him. But, then she smiled and said to herself, "But he has such a great cock, so long and so thick and so very, very hard. God I know he will stretch me so much and fill me like I have never been filled or stretched before. But not tomorrow Jessica, not tomorrow, you have to be strong and say no."
But one thing she was sure of was Lee would have to go very slow and be very gentle with her in order to give her the first really huge cock fuck to fuck if they did ever do it! If he scared her off she would be too afraid to try it. She only hoped he realized how it should be and how this next meeting should flow.
Jessica wanted to be seduced not just taken. Deep down inside she really did want to have something bigger than her husband's cock to fill her pussy even if it was just once that was for sure. That idea had actually consumed her sexual urges for a long time now. And she knew she was so ready for an affair, so damn ready. But again she wanted the man to take it slow and work for his reward. Slowly she wanted to loose all her inhibitions with the man. She would get her first sexual affair if things went properly and correctly with Lee, a black man with a really nice big cock!
After dinner and clean up, Jess took a long hot shower. Then her husband did the same. That night the sex was ramped and hard with her husband as the oral part of their lovemaking went on and on. Jessica was like some animal and her husband loved what they were doing. He licked and sucked her breasts and bit her nipples just like he knew she loved, just like Lee had done to her that day. And then her husband began to lick and suck on her so very willing pussy. He did such a good job with his mouth that Jess was holding his head with both of her hands and pumping her hips and ass up to meet his mouth as her thighs squeezed his head. She fucked herself on her husband's fingers and mouth just like she had fucked Lee's fingers and mouth earlier on the massage table.
When she arched her back and cried out with her pleasure her husband's mouth covered her entire 2 inch long pussy slit and he sucked and sucked and sucked on it bring her off again and again and again. It was better than what Lee had done to her. Jess' husband continued to eat her pussy like a starving man. She finally had to pull his mouth off her pussy and his head out from between her wide-open legs. She had more orgasms today than ever before in her 35 years of living.
She stroked his face and kissed him tasting her juices. She held him and loved him as she began to recover from his oral situations. She moved around now and straddled his hips. His cock pointed up at her ass as she began to sit down on it. The cock moved all the way into her with her first downward movement. She felt it slid into her hole and went into her further and further until she was sitting on her husband's legs. Jess had taken all of him and was now sitting on top of him. He was buried fully in her pussy and it felt wonderful. She could feel the wetness from her pussy leaking out of her and running down over the shaft and dripping on his balls.
Jess lifted up and began to bounce up and down on her husband just a few inches. If she did it to hard or went up to high his cock would slip out of her vagina and neither of them wanted that to happen. She closed her eyes and remembered Lee's big cock. She knew she could go wild bouncing up and down on his dick and he would never come fully out of her hole once he was fully embedded in her. God!! How she wanted a cock as big as Lee's was right now.
Finally, to get her clit rubbed and to cum again, Jess began to rock back and forth on top of her husband's cock as she bent forward. Her husband loved it this way since he could hold both her full breasts in his hands and played with them as she rocked on his cock. It wouldn't be long now for either of them.
Jessica bent forward more so he could take a nipple in his mouth and suck on it. She loved the feeling of her nipples being sucked as she fucked herself on her husband's cock. Then with a great sigh from her and a loud moan from her husband they both began to climax and cum. She felt his cum pumping into her as she set up and got off. Even if it was to soon for her she had achieved climax on her husband's cock in her pussy and that hadn't happened in many weeks.
She knew it was most likely over now. He could hardly ever get hard enough to do her again after the first time he shot his load. But that night she was determined to try. She moved down off the bed and got a warm wash cloth from the bathroom. She took the cloth in her hand and as her husband watched, Jessica began to wash the cum from their join orgasm off of his cock. Then she wiped her pussy and thighs cleaning of the cum on her. She then pushed him back on the bed and moved between his legs. She began to suck her husband's very small shrunken cock. She sucked it for a very long time. Then, slowly but surely and after a considerable amount of sucking and stroking him, he finally began to get hard again. This time he pulled her up from between his open legs and held her in his arms as he rolled them both over. Now with Jess on her back, he whispered for her to put him in and make love to him again.
He moved up over her body and between her open until his cock was touching her pussy hair. She opened her waiting and very willing thighs wider as she took his cock in her hand he held his body up off of her. She was hardly able to put the head in her gapping and still cum full pussy hole. Her husband's cock was just barley sticking out of her hand. Fully hard he was about 4 or 5 inches long. So Jess decided to use just her two fingers and thumb as she had done many times before and she guided him into her vagina hole again. She positioned his cock at her opening and told him to push. He did and she felt his hard little cock move into her body again. He again slid into her all the way with one stroke. As his balls slapped her ass they began to fuck again.
She held him tight with her arms and with her legs wrapped around his body, she thrust up to meet his thrusts down into her. Again and again and again she felt his cock move in and out of her tunnel about 2 inches. There was no sound in the room now except the sound of his balls slapping against her ass as he fucked her much longer this time. Slap, slap, slap, slap, slap, echoed off the walls of the room as he pumped into her again and again. Jess held him tightly as he rammed into her.
Since he had cummed not long ago her husband was able to last longer this time. In fact it was much longer and Jessica had two strong orgasms as her husband worked and worked pumping into her pussy furiously before he was ready to cum again. She was so happy as she felt him thicken and harden and then pump his seed into her again. It had been the best sex they had in months maybe a year.
And then it was over. But, she had climaxed three wonderful times from her husband fucking her with his cock! It was the first time in many months she had actually climaxed from her husband's cock and three times was a sort of record. That hadn't happened since before the baby was born.
Both of them were exhausted and she held him tightly, body against body, and kissed him telling him she loved him so very much. She did love him. She also thanked him for the love and the great sex they had. He said the same thing to her as they fell asleep in each other's arms.
Some time during the night, Jessica began to dream that a huge black cock was fucking her just like her husband had done earlier that night. Only this cock was moving in and out of her longer and thicker giving her so much more of a deeper thrust and a deep feeling of being full. She was receiving so much more stimulation from this cock that she had from her husband's smaller one and the orgasm she knew was going to be so much more stronger than any her husband had given he tonight. She didn't want it that way it was just the way it was happening. This cock was so much bigger and fucked her so much deeper stretching her pussy walls wider than anything she had ever felt before in her life did. Oh God! It was so good and Jess began to cum as she woke fully to her feelings of orgasm. She was moaning and breathing fast and hard as her body pumped as if she was being fucked again. Only this time, Jess was climaxing with both her hands between her legs cupping her pussy and working three fingers in and out of her hole fast and hard.
She was starting to orgasm for the second time and couldn't stop her body from rocking and pumping on those fingers deep inside her. It felt so good. The second orgasm swept over her body and was strong. In fact it was so damn strong she shuttered and shook for minutes after building and hitting her peak.
Her husband must have felt the bed shaking and it partly woke him. He rolled over and dreamily let his arm fall over her body as he held her tight and spooned her. Jess laid there in the after glow of her two climaxes and wondered if he knew she had just climaxed and cummed. She kept her hands between her legs feeling her wetness and the cum leaking out of her. She stayed that way and they both fell asleep again until morning.
In the morning her husband was up and dressed and off to work and she was alone. She wondered if she should in fact go to see Lee today. Finally Jess decided she would and began to get ready to see him. She decided she would go if only to find out about the Yoni massage. But there would be no sexual intercourse. She was sure she could handle Lee today especially now after her husband had done such a good job fucking her last night. Her sexual frustration had been relieved a great deal by her other two self induced orgasms too.
So she washed, dressed and dropped the baby off at daycare. Then she called to work saying she had a doctor's appointment and wouldn't be in until late if at all. She never missed any time so there was no problem at work.
She was then off to see Lee once she packed a little bag with clean clothes and the things she felt she needed. She drove to Lee's home and he opened the door for her before she could even knock on it. He was waiting for her and welcomed her into his home. He was wearing his shorts and a tight T-shirt that showed his body. She smiled think he looked very athletic.
He took her coat and saw she had on a similar type of T-shirt and a pair of shorts like she wore the other day. Except these shorts were much short then the ones she had on yesterday. There was also no panty line under them and the outline of her pussy slit was very apparent as it was pressed against the material between her smooth shapely legs. He could see she didn't wear a bra either and her firm hard nipples were showing as they stood out proud and against the material of the T-shirt. He admired the fullness of her breasts for being such a small woman. And, Lee marveled again at her oriental beauty.
He smiled at her when she came to him and gave him a huge and a light kiss on his lips. He felt she was ready to enjoy the first meeting with him alone in his home as he was about to give her the Yoni massage he had planned.
But first they sat and talked a little while he tried to make her feel more at home, relaxed and comfortable. He offered her a drink of tea nothing stronger and she accepted it. Ice tea or water was the drink of the day since the receiver of the Yoni massage needed to be fully aware of what was happening to her body. His gentle and easy actions worked too since she was sitting on his sofa now with her legs under her and talking freely with him.
After a little while he asked her if she was ready? She told him she was and he took her hand. As she lifted off the sofa he could again see just how short her gym shorts were. The barely covered her rear-end cheeks. The shorts had bunched up between her legs and he could see the complete outline of her vagina slit even better now as it pressing against them. He licked his lips thinking he might get into that pussy today. He so wanted to fuck Jessica but he wouldn't push to hard. He was after all a very patient man. He would take his time with Jess and it would be worth it when they did finally fuck each other crazy.
He held her hand and walked her to the bathroom. He told her that step number one was to be as clean as she could be. She told him she showered at home but he insisted on filling the bathtub and wanted her to bath. She took a step into the bathroom and began to close the door. Lee asked if he could join her in the tub? She told him they had agreed to bath separately today and than perhaps as things moved on with their relationship she would be more comfortable the next time and they could then share the bath.
So Lee asked if he could watch her bath then? She again told him she didn't feel that comfortable yet with him. He finally asked if he could then undress her. And since he had undressed her the other day and seen her nude she agreed to that.
He helped to lift her tight T-shirt up over her head exposing her full beautiful B cup breasts. As the shirt came over them they bounce a coupled of time as her nipples were released and her tits settled back into place. He couldn't help it he cupped them in his hands and told her how beautiful they were and she was too. She smiled and told him, "Thank you Lee. I think they are to small."
But as Lee moved his hands over them again stimulating them like he did yesterday. He told her they were perfect for her size. Then he knelt in front of her and as she undid the button on the top of her shorts Lee used his fingers to begin pulling them down. She watched as he slid the shorts down and saw him look directly at her pussy as she had to lift each of her legs up to remove her feet out of the shorts. Pulled her body to him, he inhaled her musk and gave her a chill as she felt his warm breath directly on her misty slit. He let her pussy odor mixed with her perfume fill his lungs and then he touched her and she jumped a little. He said, "And a perfect vagina too Jess. You have one of the most beautiful vaginas and rear ends I have ever seen. You are a very lovely woman."
He kissed her pussy and licked it twice before he looked up at her. She blushed when he asked her to turn around slowly for him, but she did it! Then she kicked off her sandals and stepped into the tub. Lee sat there on the floor watching her. He asked if he could please have the chance to bath her and she didn't answer him. As she sat down in the warm water inhaling the lovely perfume soap he moved and sat on the side of the tube now. He poured more soap in the water. She said, "You can wash my back OK? Then I'll wash the rest of my body while you prepare the rest of the things needed for the massage."
He sat on the edge of the tub with his feet in the water and took his shirt off. All Lee had on was his shorts and Jess saw the huge lump under them. He picked up the special very soft wash cloth and used the perfume soap. As she knelt in the water with her back to him Lee began to wash her shoulders, neck and back. He kissed her neck and shoulders and gave her body a shock that made her shiver. Lee spent a long time working on her body with the cloth and his hands.
Then he told her to stand. She did and as Lee sat on the edge of the tube he saw the water run off her body over her smooth round ass and left it shinning. As he washed her ass and the back of her thighs down to the water line, his cock became very hard. He used his right hand to move between her legs as she stood facing away from him. She didn't stop him touching her pussy under her ass and between her legs. " Open your legs just a little wider for me Jessica", he said softly. And she did as he asked and shivered again from his touch.
After a minute or two Lee asked her to open her legs wider still so he could wash under her ass and pussy. When she did he slid his hand in and cupped her vagina like he had done the other day. He heard her sigh nicely. He then began to wash her sex from behind using his long strong fingers and the very soft cloth. He was stimulating her a lot but he didn't want her to cum.
Jess moaned softly as she felt his hand cup and hold on to her entire pussy as his fingers teased her pussy hole just a little. He began to move his fingers around her pussy lips stroking and opening them as he cleaned her sex completely. He took his time and worked on her sex slowly and for a long time. He was slow, easy and very gently and he had stimulated her to the point she was rocking and pumping her pussy on his fingers.
Jessica loved what he was doing. The feeling took her back to the table she lay on the last time she let him touch her like that. When he told her to bend over she did it without any hesitation. He could see her vagina, all of it, as he worked and worked on her pussy and ass. He pushed his face between her legs and licked her pussy and ass holes. She cried out from the pleasure he was giving her with his fingers and now his tongue. He again felt her beginning to rock and pump her pussy on his hand and he slowed and finally had to stop pleasing her before she climaxed. She moaned with disappointment as he stopped. He didn't want that to happen yet.
Lee released his hand from her pussy and knew she had almost climaxed from his fingers, which had been probing all over her sex for a long time. As she stood back up he watched the water run off her body again as he washed the soap off of her with the hand held showerhead. He used it to please her pussy as the pulsing jets of water hit her clit and hole. He was standing in the water now. She looked so incredibly sexy wet and shinning. He said, "Please let me wash the rest of you Jess? I have everything already set up in the other room. All I need is you and we can begin the Yoni. Please I want to do this for you so much. Please let me wash your body."
She turned to face him and smiled as she touched his face. She felt he was being completely honest and that he would receive almost as much enjoyment from washing her body as she would from receiving the washing. She saw he had removed his shorts now and could see his big black cock jumping and bobbing with his own excitement. God it was so long and thick and stood out a foot from his body.
They were both completely nude now as they stood looking at each other's bodies. She smiled at him and gently kissed him. Then she said, "OK Lee, you can wash me if it means that much to you. But there will be no intercourse OK?"
"It does mean a lot to me Jess. It shows trust and I really want this. And I understand no fucking. It's not part of the Yoni massage process anyway," he said as he turned her around to face him directly.
His cock jumped as Jess took it in her hand for the first time today feeling it's warmth, and wonderful length and thickness. He smiled at her as she stood there with her arms down at her sides and her hand on his cock. He said, "Open your legs wider for me."
She spread then apart as she watched Lee's cock jump with his excitement of seeing her do it. He began at her neck and slowly and very lovingly washed her. As he moved closer to her body Jess felt his cock touch her body very close to her vagina. She stepped back and looked at him. He said, "I know, and I promise I won't try unless you tell me to do it Jess. I promised you."
She stepped back towards him and again felt the big cock head touch her body. Lee worked slowly and easily making sure he cleaned her completely. He paid special attention to her breasts and vagina again pleasing her greatly. She had her eyes closed one-minute and the next she was looking down at his big black cock. It looked even bigger now. Lee worked on her and took Jessica to the point of orgasm four times as he washed her body. But never let her have it.
Then he asked her to wash him. She was very happy to do it and Jess paid particular attention to his cock and balls. She knew that if she sucked him off today he would be clean and fresh. She wondered as she knelt directly in front of him with his cock inches from her face and mouth if she should just take it and suck it until he exploded and shot his cum into her mouth? But when she kissed his cock head with her lips the first time he stopped her immediately and told her it wasn't allowed right now. That with the Yoni massage, the receiver, was she. The provider, who was he, got only to provide the giving.
He said, "Now we are going to dry off and go to step number two of the Yoni massage itself. I will receive my pleasure by giving you your pleasure. But I would like you to give me oral sex maybe later today or even our next time. I think it would be extremely nice if you did that for me, but not now and not until your massage is completely over. Today is all for you and only you. Do you understand?"
She told him yes and finished washing him completely. His cock was so hard and long she was very hungry for it. Then as they stepped out of the tub his big black cock bounced up and down as they began to dry each other off. He worked her close to one more orgasm without her actually having it. As he dried her body with the big soft towel and his hands she kissed him one more time before they walked hand and hand into the room that was all set up for her.
He had filed his nails and told her that the giver should have hands smooth and fingers with no broken nails that could be uncomfortable touching her in her private places. She smiled and he watched her breasts move with laughter.
Lee laid her back on the mat and cuddled with her for a few moments molding his body with hers as they made eye contact for a long time. He held her gazing looking into her eyes for an extended amount of time feeling her body pressing against him. He knew she could feel his big cock pressing against her too. They held each other for a while kissing gently and touching each other's body. He stroked her face and body touching her in many different places. She seemed to be very willing and let him feel her body wherever he wanted. She stroked his big cock with her hand and sighed and moaned softly as he was working to bring her to a place she mentally and physically felt safe and relaxed.
Jessica felt his cock move between her open legs as he pulled over on top of him. She could feel the length of it cover her pussy and ass as the head sticking out from behind her ass. She sighed deeply as she began to rock her pussy on it.
His goal was to keep her hot without climaxing. It was working and he found she had her eyes closed now and a small smile on her face as he touched her breasts nipples with his lips as her pussy rubbed along his cock shaft. He wouldn't try to push it into her. He just wanted her to feel it and wonder about how it would feel if he were inside her. As his hand ran all over her body she didn't resist at all.
He slowly laid her on her back again and moved around as he opened her legs wide. Lee sat cross-legged between them and she looked up at him seeing him smile at her. He said, 'I want you to breathe deep Jess. Take deep breaths while I work on you today. OK? Deep slow breaths are needed."
As she lifted her ass up, Lee placed a large pillow under her ass. As he sat between her legs in this position it allowed him full access to her pussy, to her Yoni, and other parts of her body. He put another set of pillows under her knees as he bent them up and out. She was wide open for him as he looked down at her wet slick vagina and then back up into her eyes.
Lee slowly and gently began to touch her all around her slit but not directly on it. As he worked he began to explain to her all about Yoni. Lee said, "The Yoni Massage is used as a form of safer sex sometimes. It also is used to help build a trust and intimacy between partners. The aim of the Yoni massage is not to give you an orgasm Jess. It's not used to bring you to a climax however; orgasm is often a pleasant and a welcome by-product of the entire ritual. Do you understand?"
She said, "Yes", very softly as she watched his face and eyes feel the pleasure he was already providing her pussy.
He said, "The aim of a Yoni massage is simply to provide pleasure and to massage your vagina, your Yoni. Both of us can relax, and not have to worry about achieving something. If an orgasm does occur Jess, it will usually be more expanded, more intense and more satisfying. An orgasm is allowed to happen or not happen depending on you. Are you OK with all of this so far?"
She felt her pussy wet and throbbing from the results of Lee's words and his touch. She smiled at him knowing she would most definitely have an orgasm from his strong yet gentle hands and fingers pleasing her vagina. She said she was ready and waiting for his wonderful strong hands to work on her again today. That made his cock jump with his own excitement.
He said, "Now Jessica, before I really start working on your body, I want you to begin with deep, relaxed breathing. Keep looking at me and we'll begin. Both of us should remember to keep breathing deeply and slowly. It's a relaxation technique used during the entire process. I'll give you a gently remind to start breathing again if you stop or begin to start taking shallower breaths. Deep breathing, not hyperventilating, is very important here. Do not try to control the breath or take very long pauses between breaths. OK baby?"
She said yes again. And with that, Lee began to gently massage her legs moving up and around her vagina. For what seemed like a very long time he didn't touch her pussy at all. He was touching her abdomen and thighs and inner thighs an inch from her vagina lips. As he worked he bent over her and already he could smell and inhaled her musk being filtered into the room from her pussy. He loved that wonderful feminine smell. He worked his way up to her breasts, and spent some time on her nipples again. He knew Jess like her nipples played with. He remembered their conversations and what they both liked during foreplay. He was now using all of those things he had leaned about her to please this very lovely sexy oriental woman laying in front of him completely naked and relaxing to his touch.
He worked and worked to get her to relax further and become completely ready for the more sexual touching of the Yoni, Jessica's pussy.
Lee poured a small amount of his special oil in to his hands and let a few drops fall on the mound of her pussy. He poured enough oil for it to drip down and run along the outer lips of her vagina covering the outside of them. He began to very gently massaging all of her mound and upper most inner thighs as his fingers moved just to the outside and around the outer lips of her beautiful sweet pink pussy.
Lee spent a long time rubbing and stroking her mound and the hair around the top of her cunt before moving down to her well shaped and very soft upper most inner thighs. He avoided her sex again. He saw her close her eyes and knew she was enjoying his touch and trying to relax. He watched her breathing and she was doing it properly so he continued on to the next step of the actual Yoni massage.
With his finger he touched the outer lips of her pussy making her jump at first but also he knew she was feeling more stimulated with each second that passed. He saw her arch her back and lift her hips up off the bed. He told her, "Breath Jess. Breath deep. Relax Jess. Just lay there and enjoy this. This is all for you baby. Relax, relax, relax baby. Let me make you feel better than you ever felt before. Relax."
He had moved his hands off of her vagina and back on to her thighs. His voice was almost hypnotic to her and she did what he told her. Jessica closed her eyes completely now as she lay in front of him. Her body opened and completely nude and her vagina up in the air as the pillows under her ass raised it fully in front of him so he could work on it. He whispered to her again to relax and enjoy his hands and fingers giving her the massage of love.
Lee gently squeezed the outer lip of her pussy between his thumb and index finger, one on each side of the lip. Lee began to slide his fingers up and down the entire length of her pussy lips next to her slit. He saw her pussy open. Each of her pussy lips was worked on separately with his thumb and index fingers. He did each one and then ran then up and down the wet lips together. Each time he felt her arch her hips a little he would back off and slow his touch and stimulation down. As he worked, he could see the sheer pleasure on her face as he made love to her vagina with his fingers.
As he concentrated completely on his work now he moved his fingers to her inner pussy lips; they were swollen and felt fat. He began to stroke them as he had done to the outer lips. He could see they were becoming more swollen and then opened directly in front of his eyes showing him her need and desire to fuck.
He went very slow taking his time. In no hurry at all he ran his fingers over her smooth soft skin and felt just how soft and silky each of her private parts were. He could now see the nice pink insides of Jess' vagina and his fingers moved closer and closer to her hot tunnel. Jess was moaning now and sighing as she felt the very wonderful touch of this black man's hands.
As he made love to her outer and inner lips he moved his fingers to the walls of her hole. He used his other hand to begin to stroke the clitoris first with small short and very soft clockwise circles. Then he reversed his movements and rubbed the clit in counter-clockwise circles. She arched her ass up to meet his touch as he gently squeezed her clit between his thumb and index fingers. He rubbed her clit hood from the start of it to the very end of it and then gently touched her clit each time. He felt her body react as it lifted her hips and ass up off the mat and she began to pump her vagina on his finger movements. Jess moaned and said in a soft deep sexual voice, "Ohhh yes! Oh yes Lee. Oh God this feels so good. It incredible, so very good it makes me want to cum. Oh God Lee make me cum! Make me cum baby!"
Time seemed to stand still as Jess moved higher and higher with a passion and desire. She had never felt like this before. As she began to climax her body arched and she moaned loudly, "Oh God I'm cumming! I'm cumming!"
She arched her body higher off the table and thrust her hips up and down as she cried out, "Oh Yes! Oh Yes! Oh yes Lee! Fuck me with your fingers! Oh God suck my clit! Suck it now please! Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh Yessssssssssssssss! Yesssssssssssss! Yesssssssss!"
As his fingers pumped her pussy he told her to breathe, to concentrate on breathing and try not to cum yet. But, it was to late she moaned and told him she had to cum. It just felt too good. It felt so good she had to cum. Jessica was thrusting her hips up harder now as she wanted to fuck his fingers and cum, she had to fuck his fingers and cum. She had to fuck something it was just too great a pleasure. As Lee tried to backed off completely he realized it was to late so he came up and kissed her as she moaned in his mouth feeling his two fingers pumping deep into her pussy helping her to get off. She had a fantastic orgasm, one like she had in bed after she had that dream the other night about Lee fucking her.
When it was over he held her and stroked her arms and face and tried to get her to relax again. She shook and he figured she had a good orgasm, but not great. He would learn her signs better as they did this more and more. Lee had backed off but it was too late. Jess had gone wild on his hands and had a good orgasm. She moaned loudly in protest when he tried to stop but she couldn't and have a huge orgasm.
As she recovered again now Lee continued to hold her as he told her he wasn't doing it to just get her off, he wasn't working to just make her orgasm. She told him she knew but his touch was just to erotic and felt so good she couldn't help it. He told her again that he knew she would undoubtedly become very aroused but he wanted her to work with him now and concentrate on relaxing and breathing and for her to not thinking about cumming. If it happen again it happen.
Then he continued again. He kept telling her to relax and just let her body enjoy it. He took great care this time, as he inserted the middle finger of his right hand into Jess' Yoni. Very gently he explored and massaged the insides of the Yoni's walls with his finger. He felt her wetness from her orgasm. He took a great deal of time and was very gentle as he felt up and down and then over to each side of her inner walls. His sideways motion made her arch her back and lift her ass up off the pillow again. He recorded this action in his brain for later. Again and again as his finger worked to stretch her tunnel a little more with his movements he watched her face to make sure she wasn't on the verge of climaxing again.
But always he was easy, gentle and she thrust her pelvis harder now as she squeezed her vagina muscles tight trying to hold Lee's middle finger inside her pussy. He worked like that for a very long time. Finally he glanced at the clock and realized he had been working on her for almost 2 hours. He smiled knowing how badly Jessica wanted to cum again and have her release. Lee let her body fuck his finger now as he watched her move. He knowing she was going to orgasm for him and he continued to move the same way easy, gentle and very slow in and out of her tunnel with that finger.
Finally Jessica could hold out no longer and she cried out, "OHHHHHH YES!"
She started to wiggle and ram her pussy on Lee's fingers as she went wild fucking herself on it. She grabbed his hand and held it on her pussy as she yelled, "OH LEE! Fuck me!!! FUCK ME LEE. Fuck me with your fingers Ohhhhh my God! Oh my God! Ohhhhh my God! Oh Lee it's so good! It feels so good!"
She wiggled her ass and pumped her hips as she and rammed her pussy against Lee's finger deep inside her. His fingers were as deep as her husband's cock could get. As he pumped into her she moaned and pleaded with him, saying, "Fuck me faster! Harder Lee! I need it harder Oh God Lee. Oh God! Oh Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Ohhh Leeeeeeee yessssssss!"
She almost screamed as she pump her lovely hips and used her body to fuck her pussy with his long finger. He let her go. He just held his finger in her and she did the rest. Again and again he felt the walls of her vagina squeeze his finger as if it were a cock and she humped and humped and humped her body on it. While she was cumming and fucking his finger Lee vary the depth, speed and pressure of his finger inside her making her cum again.
There was an incredible orgasm this time and he watched her beautiful Asian body arch higher and higher as she gave a long almost animalistic sound and cry. Then she screamed with pleasure. He whispered to her, Yes that's right Jess, ride the wave. Let yourself go and cum for me. Cum again baby. Ride it baby! Ride the wave!!"
She held her hips and ass up in the air fucking thrusting on his hand like some crazed animal slamming her cunt on his fingers cumming many times, back to back to back. And then she seemed to just hang in the air for a very long time arching her back and lifting her ass and hips up off the mat. Only her head, shoulders and feet remained on the mat now as she enjoying the best climax yet. Lee's one hand tried to support her as she stayed up off the mat. His fingers still inside her pussy and his palms under her ass. She rotated her hips as her pussy grinned on his fingers. She hang in the air for a long, long time. She exhaled loudly and slowly began to lower her body. It was over. Once she had lowered her hips and slowly stopped her thrusting, Lee went back to relaxing her and nurturing her body with his touch. He knew she had just had a very nice set of orgasms. He wanted her to ride the wave of multiple orgasm further but for her first time she did well. God his cock felt like it was going to explode. Seeing her body react to his touch and go wild fucking his fingers was almost more than Lee could stand. God how he wanted to take her right there, right then. But he somehow held off.
She had started to "ride the wave" and did have a few very good orgasms before she finally stopped. She wasn't relaxed or trusting enough yet. But soon with a few of these massages she would be and then Jessica would experience what few women experienced, multiple orgasms built and lasted for a very long time. She was going to really love Yoni massage after she learned to control her body as it rode the waves of many orgasms.
Lee knew that when she did, she would also fuck him. It may not be tonight. In fact he was pretty sure that she wasn't ready for his cock yet. She was sacred and fearful of it but once he got her to the next level and she experienced "riding the wave" more and more, she would want and need his big dick in her to finish off what she and he had started.
With his middle finger in her pussy tunnel still, he turned the palm of his hand facing up. As his middle finger moved deeper inside her, he began to wiggle it in a "come here" motion moving the tip back as he pulled it towards his palm. She smiled at him and said, "That was wonderful."
He said, "No talking yet, relax it's not over yet baby!"
He was looking for and found a spongy area of tissue just under her pubic bone and behind her clitoris. He knew that the Yoni massage spoke of it as the "Sacred" spot. He softly rubbed it. She moaned as he was now touching her "G" spot. He knew she most likely felt like she had to urinate. She didn't look like she was in any pain from his touch so he continued. Jess had only a look of pleasurable on her face as she closed her eyes again. That was a good sigh that she was beginning to trust him more and more.
Again he vary the pressure, speed and pattern of his movements. He moved from side to side then back and forth and finally in circles using his middle finger inside her. He worked and worked and then he inserted a second finger. It was the finger that was between his middle finger and the little finger.
As he did he checked her face as he slowly moved the other finger into her hole along with the middle one. While she had taken both just a few minutes before he could see she had no problem taking it now. In fact she smiled up and opened her eyes as she looked into his. He could see the enjoyment and the increased stimulation and fullness from his two fingers. She told him, "Your fingers feel wonderful Lee. So deep they feel so good"
He smiled down at her and again told her no talking just concentrate on breathing and relaxing. As she followed his instructions he took his time and again was very gentle. He used his thumb on his right hand to begin to stimulate her clitoris again. He knew some women don't like this much stimulation but he somehow knew Jess would. He used some more oil and rubbed her anus. He was going to insert his little finger into her anus but she stopped him telling him she wasn't ready for that yet. He assured her he would be extra gentle but she told him no. So he stopped touching her rear hole for now.
He moved his left hand to her breasts running it over both and pinching her nipples just to show her he hadn't forgotten them. Then me moved it down her stomach and abdomen giving her as much touching and stimulation as he could. Then he moved the left hand to her clitoris and started to massage it using his thumb in an up down motion. He let the rest of his hand rest on her Venus mound and massaged it. The dual stimulation of right and left hands provided Jessica with much pleasure. He was enjoying what her body was doing and his cock was very hard. He felt his own wetness from his pre-cum. He tried to ignore it.
As he sat there between her open legs again his cock head was a few inches away from her paradise. But he didn't take advantage of her. He would wait and see if she told him to fuck her. He didn't even touch his cock once during all of this and it was so hard it hurt aching for relief to cum. But he stayed focus on Jess' sexual release. He reminded her to keep taking deep breaths. "Keep breathing Jess. Keep breathing baby", he said to her in a sort of parent child way.
She was moaning and he saw her breasts rise and fall as she did what he told her. She was so beautiful laying there for him to touch and love and please. She opened her eyes and he saw the smiled he loved and he knew he was pleasing her greatly. She said, "Continue right there please Lee. Keep working on my body some more. It feels so good. Please. I love your touch."
He continued the massaging, trying different speeds, pressures and motions. He reminded her again to keep breathing and to keep looking into his eyes. He was releasing from her some very powerful emotions and she actually began to cry telling him how good it felt. The feelings he was providing Jessica's body and mind were that emotional and felt so virtuous. He made sure she was taking deep breaths and was as gentle as he could be as he continued to touch her most private and personal areas on her body. She relaxed completely now and just let her body enjoy it all. She even allowed him to stroke her anus now.
He simply said to himself that if she had another orgasm, he would keep it going. He would make her body cum and drive her deeper and make sure her breathing was done properly and she was looking into his eyes as she did it.
She was at the point now for him to finish it, to continue massaging her for as long as she wanted it. More orgasms would occur that day and each would be gaining in intensity. Jessica found herself "riding the wave" more and more with each hour that passed. Lee knew many women could learn easily how to be multi-orgasmic and with the Yoni Massage and a very patient partner, the most wonderful results could be achieved. This was now happening to Jessica and Lee knew it.
So he kept massaging her Yoni and Jessica continued to cum until she couldn't take any more and told him to stop. Ecstasy took hold of her body completely. Very slowly, gently, and with respect, Lee removed his hands and allowed her to just lay there enjoying the afterglow of the Yoni massage.
He moved to the mat and cuddled with her as he held her providing a very soothing result, which showed the woman she was loved and wanted. She held him and pressed her body against his. She could feel his stiff member pressing against her. He felt huge, hard and long and pulsing with his desire. Jess decided she was going to repay Lee and help to make him cum today. While she felt she owned him that much she really wanted to see just how big his black cock would get. She wanted to see it all, how his balls felt before and during and after he short his load of cum. She wanted to feel the big cock throbbing with his desire and then feel it as it released his cum. But would she simply jerk it off, or suck it off or would Jessica have the nerve to allow him to place it inside her body and fuck her as he pumped his cum? She wasn't sure yet.
Slowly she began to stroke his face, and kiss him over and over again as he held her tightly to him. She moved her hand down his body until she had his cock in her hand. She whispered that she was going to help him now. That he should lay back and relax and breathe deep and look her in the eyes. He smiled as she moved over his big body and sat between his open legs. She saw his big cock sticking straight up in the air. With her two small hands she held it and began to stroke it up and down. She made tender love to his big dick. He felt her pussy throbbing with the most erotic feeling in her life. She was thinking what she was now going to do to satisfy him, her black lover, her black man with such a huge wonderful lovely cock. She didn't know yet as she pumped his shaft and made him moan now. But one thing she did know was she would make him cum. Yes, she owned him that much,. Lee was going to cum hard too that she did know.
|
*****
April 2018
"That's the last of the travel arrangements." Abbie Dawson announced, looking up from her tablet and smiling at her husband Justin as they sat across the table from one another. "Five is the biggest contingent we've ever taken to State and it would have been six if Christina hadn't hurt her foot!"
"Damn, I'm proud of this group -- it's still hard to believe we won the league title by
much! I didn't get a chance to tell you, but I did some research this afternoon and couldn't find any records of a wider victory margin at league championships than ours," Justin gleamed.
"Really? That's awesome! It's all the more amazing considering our best male and female divers didn't even perform up to their capabilities. Can you imagine how much we might have won by if Tommy and Amber hadn't had that blow-up and underperformed?"
"I know huh? Lucky thing Nick and the rest of the group were so dominant. Shit, Tommy and Amber barely qualified for State -- they both better get their heads on straight or neither is going to have a chance to defend their title this weekend. Have you heard if they're back together?"
"A couple of the girls told me Amber is really fed up with his crap and they weren't sure if she was going to take him back this time. Amber told them Tommy swore his jealous temper tantrums are a thing of the past and if she gives him another chance, he'll prove it to her. But apparently she told him she wants to stay on a break for a while."
"A while? Isn't she taking that advertising job in New York after the school year ends? That could be a very long break!" Justin joked.
"She hasn't accepted the job yet, but I think she is planning to. Last I heard though, Tommy was still trying to talk her out of it -- he obviously wants her to stay in California."
"That sounds like the kind of selfish thing he would do, don't ya think?"
"Absolutely, if I were her I'd tell him to go to hell," Abbie laughed. "IMO he single-handedly messed up her entire senior dive season with all the crap he pulled! She has been so uptight dealing with him that her mind has been elsewhere all season long. It's amazing she remained as good a team leader as she did, but it certainly took a toll on her personal performance!" Abbie opined as she got up to wash out her glass.
"You know what I think?" Justin said in his best conspiracy theororist tone as he followed her across the kitchen and pressed his cock against her spectacular ass, "I think she just needs some really good sex -- that always seems to help
when I'm feeling stressed out!"
"Oh is that right Dr. Phil, that makes you an expert on the subject?" Abbie giggled over her shoulder. "I suppose you're trying to tell me you're really stressed out at the moment?"
"Actually no...I'm trying to tell you I'm really fucking horny!" He announced as he reached around and cupped her firm d-cups.
Ten minutes later they were under the covers of their master bed.
Justin quickly buried his face between Abbie's magnificent tits while he fingered her slippery pussy. Sexy sounds of encouragement oozed from her gorgeous mouth as he took one of her large nipples between his teeth and playfully nibbled before biting down on the engorged nub.
"Oooh Justin, you make me feel so good, I love the way you do that...oooh...uhn...yeah baby" she moaned as he pinched the other one.
"God Ab, I love your awesome tits, how did I get lucky enough to convince you to marry me?"
"Uhn Justin, don't talk like that...I'm the lucky one...uhn God...yes that feels sooo good...keep doing it!"
Justin smothered her heavenly mounds before kissing his way down her sinewy body, stopping long enough to tease around her belly button before she tangled her fingers in his hair and pressed his head lower. In spite of his wife's phenomenal body, her subtle apprehension regarding nudity and certain aspects of sex always surprised him. However, one thing he'd learned long ago, Abbie loved to get her pussy eaten and as a result he spent a lot of time with his head between her perfect thighs.
Justin licked and sucked Abbie's swollen lips before tantalizingly ministrating her slippery bump. He brought her to the edge a handful of times before she whimpered and whined for him to let her climax. A big smile formed on his dripping face, immersed in one of his favorite bedroom activities. His typical sex-reticent wife became an orgasm seeking beggar when he did this to her. Justin loved seeing her like this, "What do you want baby?"
"Oh God Justin you know...please don't make me beg!"
"You like it when I lick and suck it?"
"Oh you know I do...please do it now...I want to cum honey!" Abbie whimpered.
He had her right where he wanted her, "Do you want fingers too?"
"Oh God Justin, you know I love that...please...yes!"
The horny coach rubbed his thumb up and down her slit while he teased her sensitive clit with cunning licks from his hungry tongue. Abbie's erratic gasps filled the room as she tangled her fingers through his hair with one hand while taking turns pinching and pulling her oversized nipples with the other. Her sexy hips rippled erotically as she tried to create more friction between her pussy and his mouth.
Abbie grunted, "Use your fingers...please honey!"
Justin hoped to extend this delicious arousal but his wife was practically hyperventilating and his jaw and tongue were fatiguing quickly, so he pressed one and then a second finger inside her. Abbie moaned her approval before Justin dropped his head and skillfully attacked her clit with vigor. It took only seconds before his hot wife experienced a toe-curling, grunting cum with her sexy thighs clamped tightly around his head. He nearly came himself when sex juice actually squirted from her sated lips and splattered around his chin and neck.
Abbie was still gasping for breath as he kissed his way back up her body. He always looked forward to sinking his tongue in her mouth after eating her pussy, amazed that she never showed any signs of objection -- this time she would experience an extra-heavy dose.
They kissed like teenagers. Abbie depositing her tongue deep in his mouth, actually desiring a taste of her womanly essence. After licking his mouth clean her tongue slipped from between his lips, "God Justin that was amazing, you always make me feel so good, but that was one of the best ever!" His horny wife planted several kisses around his cum soaked chin, "Tonight I want to make you feel good too!"
"You always make me feel great baby..." He responded excitedly as she kissed and licked her remnants from his face.
"No, I mean with my mouth..."
Immediately Justin felt blood flow to his cock, "Are you sure Ab," eyes wide, a big smile immediately forming on his stunned face.
Abbie reached down and stroked him, "Yes honey, you are always so good to me, I want to return the favor tonight!" She countered naughtily with her own wetness dripping from her succulent lips.
Justin sensing eagerness in his wife's tone he hadn't experienced in some time asked, "Do you mind if I put on one of the videos while you do it?"
She rolled her eyes unsurprisingly, "No sweetheart go ahead, I know how much you love them!" She giggled.
Justin jumped from the bed and popped the DVD into the player. If there was ever a night to give
video a shot, tonight would be it -- Abbie appeared up for anything. As he climbed back into bed, his wife gripped his rock hard dick just as the movie title,
appeared on screen. Within a minute, Abbie's plump lips circled the head of his cock at the same moment a black bull's massive dome plunged into the waiting mouth of a blonde wife while her cuck husband watched bedside.
Justin's eyes rolled back in his head as Abbie's heavenly mouth engulfed his swollen knob, "Damn Ab...that feels so f'ing good!"
Unfortunately for Justin, Abbie had never been one for giving a lot of head, especially since they voiced their wedding vows a half decade previously. In fact, he couldn't actually recall the last time she'd sucked his dick, but he didn't care, at the moment her wet lips and slippery tongue felt wonderful encasing the first couple of inches of his hardness. Abbie stayed connected for several minutes, sucking and licking up and down his shaft.
"Does that feel good honey?" She asked as she enthusiastically stroked her saliva along his stiffness.
"God yes! You have no idea Ab!"
Abbie giggled again before licking down his length to his tight balls. She didn't really care for his hairy scrotum, but tonight she playfully licked and sucked on his nut sack as he groaned his approval. Justin watched the porno through bleary eyes as the blonde wife struggled to get her lips around the black porn star's massive balls. He thought to himself how different it would be for Abbie if she ever tried to do what she was currently doing to his average nuts versus even one of Nick Thomas' huge testicles. Regardless, her mouth felt spectacular as she kissed and licked back up his shaft and took him in her mouth again. She pleasured him for several more minutes before breathlessly announcing, "Justin, I'm really horny, can I climb up on top?"
His shoulders slumped ever so slightly, wishing she would continue, but knowing fellatio wasn't really her thing. He appreciated the dick service in spite of its brevity, but it was hard for him to feel too much disappointment as Abbie's big succulent tits were soon pressed into his chest as she mounted him. She kissed along his neck with her back to the TV as Justin took turns ogling her awesome tits and watching over her shoulder. At just that moment, the porn wife who apparently had no such reservations about giving head, crescendoed her textbook blowjob causing the large black man to grunt loudly and warn the cuck husband he was going to cum all over his wife's big tits.
The husky announcement caught Abbie's attention causing her to look over her shoulder just in time to see stream after stream of thick jism erupt from the black bull's thick cock and completely envelop the blonde wife's natural c-cups.
"Holy shit, look at all that..." Justin gasped with wide eyes.
Abbie experienced a similar shock as the interracial porn caught her completely off guard. She was awed at the same observation Justin had just acknowledged, but she was even more astonished at her first vision of rock hard big black cock. The length and thickness of the porn actor's blackened shaft and the size of his swinging balls made her do a double take.
But in an effort to not expose her shock, Abbie quickly downplayed her reaction, knowing the awkward memory of the Masked Masculinity experience was still fresh in both of their minds. And while it had been a few months since the show, she certainly wasn't comfortable acknowledging her new found intrigue for interracial sex.
"What is this video honey?"
"Oh babe I ordered it sometime ago but we haven't watched one in a while, so I hadn't gotten a chance to play it." Justin answered nonchalantly between sucks of her rock hard nipples, hoping to downplay the interracial component.
"Is it all...uh...blacks and whites?" Abbie asked as she rhythmically rotated her hips around on his cock while her big tits bounced against his face.
"Yeah, I guess, but I didn't realize it when I bought it," He lied.
"Really?...but it's called
wasn't that kind of obvious
"Uh...yeah I guess, but I didn't give it much thought at the time." He lied again before biting down hard on her nipple.
Abbie squealed joyfully, but questioned whether her husband was telling the truth. Nevertheless while the interracial porn aroused them equally, she didn't want to acknowledge her interest.
Justin suspected as much and had specifically chosen this video to gauge whether all the suggestive exchanges with their black diving protégé Nick Thomas had sparked Abbie's interest in interracial sex. He wanted to see if her arousal would shine through when exposed to BBC porn.
But
now saw this, by means of a phony objection, as an opportunity to prove her behavior at the strip show and other evocative exchanges with Nick were merely coincidences, "Justin, I'm really not comfortable with this, can you just put on one of the...uh...regular ones?" She asked, secretly hoping he would object and keep it on.
"Oh shit Ab, you feel too good, I don't want to stop now!" Justin pleaded as the black bull now power fucked the hot blonde from behind while her cuck husband jacked off frantically next to the bed.
"You do too honey, but it just feels strange for us to be watching th..." She stopped mid sentence as she suddenly comprehended the scene's true magnitude, "...Oh my God, is that supposed to be her husband sitting next to the bed...uh...masturbating?"
"Uh...yeah, I think so. Some guys get off on that stuff..."
"You mean when their wives are with black guys like that?"
"Not necessarily just black guys, but sometimes I guess..." Justin answered, feigning ignorance.
"God Justin...the whole thing is just...just seems kinda
"
"Wrong like how honey?"
"I don't know, it just does, I think you should change it..." The cuckold component
actually making her a little uncomfortable.
Justin hadn't expected this reaction but quickly figured it was a ruse on Abbie's part to try and diffuse her interest in interracial sex, "Shit honey, I'm almost there, can we keep it on just a little bit longer? And please don't stop bouncing -- you feel so good, I'm gonna cum soon!"
Suddenly Justin's previously suggestive comments about her having sex with another man began to materialize in Abbie's mind,
But before she could process those thoughts further, the young wife on the screen experienced one of the most intense orgasms Abbie ever witnessed. The hot blonde practically screamed, "Oh yeah...I love your huge black cock, I've never cum so much in my life...don't stop...ever!" The young blonde then looked over at her husband, "Honey, I love you so much for letting me fuck him...he's amazing!"
Justin let out a subtle groan as a mesmerized gaze appeared on his face as he thrust up into Abbie more aggressively. She watched his unfocused gape -- as if he was trying to picture something in his mind. But again, before she could respond, the porn stud growled loudly and announced he was going to plant his dark seed in the white wife's fertile pussy.
Abbie turned with wide eyes just as the muscle covered bull spanked the blonde wife's tight little ass and every muscle in his body flexed before he roared like a lion and erupted deep inside her.
That was the trigger Justin
the cuck husband needed to do the same.
"Oh shit Ab, you feel so good, I'm gonna cum!" Justin announced and seconds later his body tensed as he squeezed her ass, thrust into her from below, and emptied his balls in her slippery pussy.
The cuck husband's meager load dribbled down his fingers.
Abbie held him tight as they lay breathing heavily and caressing each other while the black bull eased his huge semi-limp cock from the young wife's gaped pussy. It made a popping noise that caused them to both look towards the screen again just as a thick stream of the bull's cum oozed from the wife's swollen pussy lips and spilled onto the sheets.
"Jesus..." Abbie muttered unthinkingly as Justin watched her astonished reaction.
The cuck husband moved quickly onto the bed and inspected the momentous flow just as the scene faded to a close.
They both lay there quietly for nearly a minute before Justin broke the silence, "So you really don't want to watch that again Ab?" He asked, hopeful she would respond differently now.
"Uh...uh...no, it just didn't feel right." Abbie stuttered, clearly with other thoughts on her mind. "I mean, I know it was just acting, but why would a husband want to watch his wife having sex with another guy?"
"There's a lot more men out there who love this stuff than you might think babe, the internet is filled with these kinds of videos."
"Why would any guy be okay with his wife cheating like that? Don't marital vows count for anything?"
"Not in porn!" Justin laughed before seeing the look on her face and realizing it was a bad time for a joke. "Seriously Ab, it's not like that. The wife has permission to do it, it's not cheating. You know..." he paused to find the right words, "...I think a lot of guys have fantasies about watching their beautiful wives achieve complete sexual satisfaction at the '
of well-hung studs...it doesn't mean they want them to cheat, it's just they look forward to watching the person they love experiencing ultimate sexual satisfaction!"
An apprehensive stare formed on Abbie's face "Is...is that what you want to see Justin?"
Again he hesitated before he spoke, "Abbie, you know I love you more than anything in the world and I would never want to do anything that made you feel uncomfortable, but...I have to admit I've fantasized about you having passionate sex with a really well-hung guy."
This wasn't the first time she had heard him voice this fetish, but it was the first time they had discussed it with so much sincerity. "But Justin, I don't get it. Why do you think I would want that? I love everything about our relationship, including our sex life!"
"I know babe, it's kind of hard to explain but I guess I'm like a lot of other guys that believe that most women would prefer sex with well-endowed men. And since I'm not exactly John Holmes, it excites me to imagine watching a guy with a really big one pleasuring you. Imagining a look of complete sexual rapture on your face while a guy like that pleasures you, excites me like you can't imagine!"
"But Justin...when have I ever given any impression that size matters to me? Oops, that didn't come out right..." They both laughed nervously before she continued, "...I mean when have I ever given the impression that I desire sex with an...uh...endowed guy?" Abbie asked, hopeful Justin hadn't picked up on her recent enhanced arousal from some of the big-cocked porn videos they'd watched.
Justin's mind immediately went to the night of the male review show and Abbie's drunken admission when she got home. But he chose not to go there as she still had no recollection of that conversation and he didn't want to steer the conversation towards Nick, not knowing how she might react. So instead, he brought up the porn, "I don't know, it seems like you get more excited when the bigger guys are on the videos we've watched together..."
Butterflies quickly formed in her stomach, "I...I don't know about that Justin. They all seem kind of the same to me...I guess if I've showed any increased excitement it had more to do with the eroticism of the scene and what you and I were doing at the time..." She lied unconvincingly.
Justin saw her reply as an opportunity to engage further conversation about the interracial porn, "So if they are all kind of the same to you, why did you feel differently about this one?"
"I...I...don't know Justin, I guess I'm just not ready for the whole black and white thing." She lied again.
"Jeez hun, this is the 21
century, interracial relationships are more prevalent than they've ever been. Take for instance Nick and Christina. I know that's black and Asian and they aren't seeing each other anymore, but it seems like less of a thing with the younger Millennials."
"Well I guess I'm not a younger Millennial then!" She answered abruptly, showing an apparent desire for the conversation to be over.
Justin, while disappointed in her response, chose to not press her further --- he fully suspected she was masking her true feelings due to their edgy relationship with Nick Thomas. He quickly rationalized that showing interest might compromise her dishonesty, "Okay...but I can't promise I won't want to watch it again some other time."
"We'll see..." she responded with a sly smile as she rolled her eyes.
*****
Thursday evening, 1 Week Later
"Hey all, everyone have their student ID's, Hornet gear and boarding passes?" Justin asked the group congregated at the Southwest gate at Sacramento airport. He looked around and saw only smiling, nodding heads from his dive team State Championship participants.
"How bout' you coach?" Justin grinned as he looked over in Abbie's direction.
"Well I don't have a student ID, but I got everything else!" She replied with a big smile, everyone laughed.
"Celebratory champagne?"
"I might have stashed a little in my checked bag..." she admitted sheepishly with a playful wink.
Everyone laughed again before Justin broke in, "Let's hope we have cause for that! What do you guys think?"
"Done deal coach!" Nick Thomas bragged on everyone's behalf. Justin looked around proudly at his championship entourage: Chase Singleton, Arnie Ng, Amber Tisdale, and Nick Thomas. All were decorated seniors except Nick, who was still only a junior. Christina Chin had actually qualified as well, but she had tripped off a curb and broke her ankle in a drunken stupor following league championships two weeks previously. Tommy Wilson was scheduled to arrive early Saturday morning following several on-campus job interviews on Friday afternoon.
"All right, let's go make it happen Hornets! Ab do you have the schedule?"
"Yeah, here it is," she handed out a typed page to everyone before reviewing it verbally, "Tonight after we land in Orange County, you guys are on your own for dinner. We have a table reserved at the hotel restaurant at 10:00 a.m. for breakfast. That meal is optional, but we expect you all to be ready for the hotel shuttle to take us over to UC Irvine at 11:00 a.m. Don't be late for that! We only have use of the pool facilities until 1:30 p.m. for pre-meet warm-ups and practice reps. Justin and I will spend fifteen minutes with each of you going through your dive agenda and final refinements. The shuttle will then bring us back to the hotel and you guys have the rest of the day on your own."
Several excited acknowledgements sounded from the group.
"I heard it's going to be eighty degrees down there so the beach and/or hotel pool are certainly in play people! And don't forget," Abbie looked over in Amber's direction with a wide smile, "this is Miss Tisdale's old stompin' grounds so if any of you are looking for an activity director, you have one nearby!"
Amber blushed, "Yeah guys, and by the way, I'm going to have lots of family and friends in attendance, so you better all represent -- Sac State Hornets need to show out!" She warned with a playful smile.
All the guys accepted the challenge, not only for themselves, but none wanted to let the hot senior team captain down either. The interaction afforded them all an opportunity to admire her beautiful smile and the swell of her big tits up close without Tommy around.
Abbie continued, "We have a team dinner tomorrow night at 6:00 p.m., then I hope you will all hit the sack early to get a good night's sleep ahead of Saturday's meet. We'll meet at the hotel restaurant at 8:30 a.m. on Saturday morning..."
Several moans and groans erupted from the college crowd.
Abbie smiled, "...As I was saying, we'll meet at the hotel restaurant at 8:30 a.m. sharp for a team breakfast before heading over to Irvine at 9:30 a.m...if any of you are feeling sorry for yourselves for having to get up that early, just think about Tommy, he has to catch a flight out of Sacramento at 6:30 a.m." Abbie subconsciously looked in Amber's direction, but the mention of Tommy's name did not illicit any outward reaction from the pretty blonde.
"...After the meet, it'll be party time!" Nick bragged, everyone laughed and cheered.
"I guess Nick knows the schedule better than me, but yes, I hope we all have reason to enjoy ourselves Saturday night!" Abbie beamed as she looked around the group. "Just make sure you are all in some kind of condition to catch the shuttle to the airport at noon on Sunday!"
*****
After landing at John Wayne airport, the group took the hotel shuttle to the Embassy Suites. The hotel was one of the tropical garden varieties with rooms surrounding a large open solarium. Justin and Abbie checked-in for everyone and handed out the key and room assignments.
"Amber, since you're the only girl, you get the upgraded suite on the 12
floor, the rest of you guys get standard rooms on lower floors," Abbie announced to the group teasingly. A smattering of spurious boos and complaints echoed from the guys.
A huge smile formed on Amber's gorgeous face, "Girls need more room for our
...not to mention "12" is my lucky number, so what could be better than room 1212!" She gushed with an eat-your-heart-out smile.
Nick thought to himself,
Abbie and Justin took the other upgraded suite on the 14
floor, the highest of the group. After changing quickly and giving Abbie a minute to freshen up, the Dawson's grabbed an Uber to a hole-in-the-wall sushi place in Costa Mesa.
"Here's to continued success at State Championships!" Justin raised his Sake cup and clanked it off Abbie's. The couple enjoyed a great meal of sashimi and several killer rolls including one called the Muscle Builder. Abbie loved the low carb component -- Justin relished the entire meal, he was convinced sushi made his wife horny. The Sake didn't hurt in that department either.
Later that night after phenomenal sex, Justin woke from a sound sleep. He was happy that his theory came to pass, Abbie had been especially aggressive and had experienced numerous orgasms including one of her squirting cums while riding his cock during one unusually long fuck.
Now as he lay in bed, his mouth was parched from the dry air in the room and the salty fish. He glanced over at Abbie as she lay on her back. The sheet had slipped below her breasts and her arms were above her head forcing her big tits into perfect mounds of goodness. Justin admired them in the dim light as he always did on the few occasions she slept topless.
He rose from the bed, took a leak, and opened the mini-fridge looking for something to quench his thirst. Unfortunately, they had finished the last of their water during sex, so after realizing it was still only 2:00 a.m. and it would be a long night without it, he made a trip down to the hotel store for more.
After picking up a couple of bottles and taking the elevator back up, as he walked along the perimeter hallway, he heard a commotion in the hotel lobby. He looked over the edge to see his dive team group entering the open space below. Based on the time of night (morning actually) and the loud laughter, he quickly figured they'd been out doing what 21-year-old college kids do. He shook his head, but then quickly remembered he and Abbie did the same kind of shit leading up to their own state finals many years before. He watched as the group entered the glass elevator together. It stopped somewhere around the fifth floor and Arnie and Chase exited.
What happened next blew Justin's mind.
As soon as the elevator doors closed, Nick and Amber came together in a hot and heavy embrace. Justin watched in disbelief as the pair kissed passionately before the glass elevator eventually reached the 12
floor. He ducked slightly to keep from being seen as he was now only two levels above them, but his vantage point provided a good view as they hurried from the elevator to room 1212. As Amber reached into her purse to get her key, Nick moved behind and thrust his hips forward against her sweet ass. Justin heard the sexy blonde squeal excitedly from across the way before the door opened and they ducked inside.
Justin's cock swelled as the unexpected pairing quickly filled his mind with erotic thoughts. He suddenly envisioned Nick's huge black cock pounding into Amber's sexy body while she writhed in ecstasy. Like just about every other guy who had seen her at the pool the past couple of years, Justin had fantasized about fucking Amber Tisdale countless times himself. Instead, he now realized Nick Thomas, the muscle-covered black diver from the other side of the tracks would be the one enjoying the Orange County blonde all night long.
And while he should have been concerned about the potential powder keg this might create when Tommy arrived on Saturday, thoughts of their sizzling connection were just too good to concern him. When he got back to the room he nuzzled close to Abbie's naked body and immediately reached for her inviting breasts, but she tiredly pushed him away and rolled in the other direction. She was back fast asleep within seconds. In spite of his arousal, Justin decided to quit before he made her mad, instead rolling onto his back with his raging hard-on tenting the bed sheets. He stared up at the ceiling imagining Nick and Amber's taboo mating before he passed out.
The following morning when Justin woke, Abbie was nowhere to be seen. He checked his phone and immediately saw a note from her letting him know she had gone down to the hotel pool to swim laps. He thought to himself how lucky he was to have a wife with a body like Abbie's who still worked so diligently to keep it that way.
Justin's thoughts turned to what he'd witnessed in the middle of the night. His cock began to swell again. Over the past couple of years, interracial sex had become his go-to fetish. More and more these days when he had the house to himself, he would go to his favorite porn website www.blacked.com and masturbate to video images of BBC's pounding hot white wives.
There was something he found incredibly arousing about the contrast between dark skinned alpha males and light skinned submissive wives. He reached for the bottle of massage oil he and Abbie used the night before and coated his right hand. The horny dive coach spent the next fifteen minutes rubbing one out while imagining Nick fucking the shit out of Amber.
Justin's mind wandered to the unimaginable prowess that Nick Thomas must exhibit in the bedroom,
As Justin stroked his dick, wild images of Nick fucking his married high school teacher filled his brain. He then tried to imagine the sexy little Asian diver Christina Chin impaled on his big black pole. And finally as he stroked himself frantically, erotic images of Nick pounding confidently into Abbie from behind while her sexy tits bounded forward and back permeated his brain. As he imagined his gorgeous wife begging the black man to not stop before cumming all over his huge cock, Justin blew his load onto the sheets of their hotel bed,
An hour and a half later, Justin and Abbie sat in the hotel restaurant discussing the refinements they wanted to review with each of their divers during the open practice sessions later in the morning. Justin had chosen not to say anything about what he'd witnessed during the night. He wasn't sure why, but he wanted to see how the situation played out without Abbie knowing about it. He was also dying to see how Nick and Amber acted when he saw them together.
The anxious coach would have to wait longer than expected -- only Arnie and Chase joined them at breakfast.
"Anyone heard from Nick or Amber this morning?" Abbie asked as the four of them dined on the mediocre Embassy Suites breakfast buffet.
"Not me," answered Chase as he shoved Captain Crunch into his mouth, milk spilling from his spoon. Arnie shook his head with his face buried in his phone. Justin watched to see if either of them showed any further signs of reaction to Abbie's question. Neither did.
He quickly figured he was the only one who knew. "What'd you guys do last night?" He then asked before taking a swig of his strong coffee.
"Uh...we just hung out at a couple of places."
"Did Amber and Nick hang with you guys too?"
"Yeah pretty much...we lost em' for a while, but the four of us Uber'd back here together." Arnie answered again without looking up from his phone.
"What time did you guys get back?" Abbie asked.
Both guys gazed up at the same time, "I didn't know we had a curfew," Chase responded, followed by laughter from the two of them, "I don't know, I think it was around two."
Abbie's expression showed some concern but Justin gave her a
look. "Well I hope you all had a good time, but tonight we'd like to see everyone get a good night's sleep ahead of the meet. Tomorrow night you guys can party all night long as far as I'm concerned!" Justin rescued the conversation jokingly.
"Yeah, I'm with you on that coach! I might just crash this afternoon after we get back from practice, I'm hella tired right now," Chase answered before lifting his bowl and slurping down the remaining sugar filled milk. Abbie got a disgusted look on her face before reminding them to be back down for the bus ride over to UC Irvine at 11.
On the way back up in the glass elevator Abbie spoke, relief in her voice, "It sounds like they didn't party
hard last night, but I find it interesting that neither Nick or Amber made it down for breakfast."
Justin subtly glanced in her direction but quickly realized there was no suspicious intent in her comment, he watched for signs of life in room 1212 as they passed, "College kids...you know they'd sleep till noon everyday if they could!"
Ironically, no one was
in room 1212 at that moment...Amber Tisdale's tight pussy was stretched obscenely on Nick Thomas' massive black dick as water cascaded over them while she clung to his muscle covered body while he held her off the floor in the large walk-in shower.
*****
An hour later, Abbie and Justin stood outside the shuttle bus to greet Chase, Arnie,
Nick as they strode towards them. Justin studied Nick's face for any signs of conquest, but he couldn't pick up anything more than his typical confident smile as they shook hands, "We missed you at breakfast!"
"Yeah sorry coach, I decided to get a little exercise instead..."
The response caught Justin by surprise, but he quickly thought the obscure response might actually be true..."
A minute later, Amber hurriedly made her way out to the bus. But unlike Nick's familiar look, Justin noticed a sort of glowing radiance about the smile on the blonde diver's face. He also thought she walked with a subtle limp.
"Hey girl, we missed you at breakfast!" Abbie smiled as she welcomed her favorite female diver out to the bus. The two of them had become really good friends over the past two years and Justin wondered if Amber might actually confide in her about what had happened the previous night. He kind of hoped she wouldn't...
"Yeah sorry I didn't make it, I really just wanted to enjoy as much time in bed as I could this morning!" The gorgeous senior gushed with an energized exuberance that seemed over the top, even for her always bubbly personality.
Justin thought to himself before they boarded the shuttle and made the short ride over to UC Irvine. Along the way, Justin noticed several veiled glances between Amber and Nick confirming what he already knew. The black kid formerly from the other side of the tracks had undoubtedly been ball deep (if that was possible) in the OC hottie all night long...Again Justin wondered how the dynamic would play out once Tommy arrived the following morning, but for now the intrigued coach sat in his seat with a semi-stiffy in his shorts.
*****
"Wow! I don't know what got into Amber, but that was far and away her best dive session of the season!" Abbie gushed as she and Justin entered their hotel room following the practice session. "If she dives like that tomorrow, she
defend that State title and it won't be close!"
Justin almost laughed out loud,
He thought to himself before he dropped his gear and headed to the bathroom to take a leak. As he pissed he shouted, "Yeah, Nick and the other guys looked really good too! If Tommy gets his head out of his ass as well, we might set records at state like we did at league championships!"
His thoughts returned to Nick and Amber. He remembered telling Abbie his theory a few weeks earlier what Amber really needed was some really good sex -- his ego swelled as he now felt vindicated in his conjecture. The sexy blonde undoubtedly got blacked the previous night and it appeared now that all the anxiety and stress from her two-year relationship with Tommy melted away in one night impaled on Nick Thomas' big black cock.
As Justin exited the bathroom, Abbie stood next to the bed attempting to clasp the top to one of her skimpy bikinis. This was one of the string numbers that had garnered so much attention the previous summer at Lake Shasta. Her now partially connected top was the only thing covering her otherwise nude body. Justin's eyes nearly bugged out of his head as Abbie's well-toned arms flexed as she stretched the undersized garment in an attempt to corral her heavy d-cups. Fascinated by her challenge, Justin took the opportunity to gawk at her exposed little dark patch, shapely hips, and long sexy legs,
Abbie noticed his horny gaze. So before he could speak or act, she pre-empted him with a playful rebuke, "Don't get any ideas horn-boy, let's get down to the pool before it gets too late, I want to get some sun!"
Justin quickly dropped his shorts to the floor, he was sporting a raging hard-on, "Look what you do to me, how can I go to the pool like this? Why don't we have a little fun first?" He begged pathetically.
She laughed, "That's your problem, take a cold shower or something, I'm going to the pool!"
He acquiesced after a little additional whining. He slipped on his board shorts and they made their way downstairs.
Justin was surprised Abbie chose to wear one her skimpy bikinis knowing the dive team boys would be around. But he quickly wondered if she hadn't consciously made the decision knowing Amber would likely be sporting something revealing herself. He knew that in spite of his wife's conservative nature, she still took a lot of pride in her phenomenal body. He wondered if Abbie, even at 27, might still have some competitive juices in relation to the hot 22-year-old. And then another thought crossed his mind,
Justin and Abbie had the pool to themselves aside from a contingent of overweight Disneyland tourists who had taken the afternoon off from Cotton Candy and Churros. Justin and the several redneck dads from Iowa had watched as Abbie oiled herself in 4 spf Hawaiian Tropic tanning oil upon their arrival. Justin hadn't seen her in a bikini yet this year, but immediately thought to himself that aside from not yet having her patented mid-summer tan, she looked better in it now than she had the previous year.
The dad's from Iowa would have hastily agreed.
Before long, Arnie and Chase showed up. Justin noticed as both boys did their very best to avoid gawking at Abbie, but their constant subtle glances weren't lost on him. It was hard to blame them, this was the first time they'd ever seen her in a bikini -- she certainly looked more like a Playboy model than a dive coach as she lay on the lounger.
About a half-hour later Nick cruised across the pool deck in only his board shorts, flip-flops, and reflective silver shades. He too noticed his hot coach from across the pool and immediately felt blood flowing to his cock. That feat was amazing in itself, his big dick had only just deflated minutes before after he showered Amber's gorgeous c-cups with a prodigious cum bath at the conclusion of their third fuck of the day.
Justin noticed a slight sheen of sweat already on his dark skin as he walked up to the group. He wondered if Nick hadn't been '
again.
From behind his reflective shades Nick ogled Abbie from head to toe. He'd just left a thoroughly-fucked naked blonde upstairs, but now seeing his hot coach oiled up and sporting a skimpy bikini, his enormous balls began churning yet again.
"Man, it's hard to beat this Southern California weather, but I need to work on my tan!" He joked as he lifted his arms and turned around, modeling his impressive body in mock display to everyone in the group.
They all laughed while Abbie took the opportunity to admire Nick's muscle-covered physique up close. She wasn't sure why, but he had a sheen of sweat across his body that highlighted his sexy tattoo façade -- ever since the night at Masked Masculinity, Nick's tats had aroused her more and more each day at practice.
Nick took up a seat on the far side of Arnie and Chase.
A half-hour later Amber made her way down to the pool -- again Justin noticed that radiant glow that he'd witnessed earlier. The OC blonde had hoped to be down sooner, but that was before she realized that a few heavy spurts from Nick's eruption had strayed off target and landed in her thick blonde hair. It took several rinses with shampoo and conditioner to get his copious spunk all out.
Amber removed her cover up. To the delight of Justin, the dive boys, and especially the dad's from Iowa, she was sporting a thong. Her tremendous ass was on full display as she bent over to lay out her towel. One of the Iowa dads quipped immediately to his buddies, "We are coming back to this hotel again next year whether the wives and kids want to go to fuckin' Disneyland or not!" His buddies readily agreed before they all belly laughed.
Amber slipped into the chaise lounge next to Abbie and oiled herself in the Hawaiian Tropic. Again the redneck dads watched, tongues practically hanging out.
Over the next hour, the Sac State dive group had a good time joking and laughing while tipping back a few beers.
Suddenly Nick felt his phone vibrate when a new text message arrived. A sly smile formed on his face:
Nick glanced in Amber's direction as she sexily bit her bottom lip before swirling her tongue around the outside of her mouth. Moments later the pretty blonde announced, "Hey everyone, I need to go upstairs for a bit as I'm coordinating schedules with my family for tomorrow's meet. I'll be back down in a little while."
"Tell your mom and dad we say hi!" Abbie replied cluelessly.
"Uh...yeah sure Coach A!" Amber smiled before making subtle eye contact with Nick one final time.
All eyes watched as Amber strode across the pool deck in only her sheer cover up. Abbie giggled and told all the guys they could stop staring at anytime. They all busted out laughing, knowing full well they'd just been caught. She made a special smiling admonishment at her husband who was sporting as guilty a smirk as any of them.
The dad's from Iowa were under no such orders, they openly gawked at the 22-year-old who looked like she belonged on a Victoria Secret swimsuit runway.
Justin waited to see if Nick came up with an excuse to leave soon too.
As if on cue, the coach's cock quickly stiffened when ten minutes later Nick announced, "Hey ya'll something I ate last night or this morning must not have agreed with me, I'm gonna head up to my room for a bit. You guys gonna be down here for a while?"
"Sure Nick, we got a couple hours of this good So Cal sun still! Hope you feel better." Abbie announced, not having any idea what the black man was really on his way to do.
"Oh I'm pretty sure I'll feel a lot better soon!" Nick replied, thoughts of Amber's silky pussy on his mind.
*****
As Nick entered room 1212, Amber Tisdale, Tommy Wilson's former girlfriend waited anxiously on the big bed, she was naked, "What took you so long, I was going to die if you didn't get here soon!" She practically shouted, fingers between her legs.
Nick strode confidently towards the bed untying his swim trunks along the way. He studied the horny blonde waiting for him on her knees. As was typically the case with women he desired, when he'd first laid eyes on Amber at that first dive meeting many months before, he fully expected the sexy bitch to ride his big cock at some point. It had taken the better part of the school year, but when the two of them were finally alone as they stepped outside the bar the previous night, she couldn't keep her hands off of the huge bulge in his pants.
The confident hung stud brought the hot blonde back to the hotel and fucked her brains out all night long...
Now she wanted it again...
"OH GOD THERE IT IS!" Amber breathed excitedly as Nick's flaccid cock flopped out when his board shorts hit the floor. In seconds, she was on the edge of the bed slutishly slobbering all over his fat dark meat. She had started off nervous and apprehensive when exposed to its overwhelming size the previous night, but now she rubbed it around the contours of her tender facial skin like a familiar massager. All the while, her hungry tongue chased after it as if it was putting off needed nourishment she couldn't live without.
Ironically it was. Nick's precum leaked out like one of Tommy's full blown ejaculations. Amber lapped it up thirstily, "That's it baby, get that big cock all wet and slippery so I can stuff it in that tight little pussy again!"
"MmmmMmmmm...God Nick, I couldn't wait to get back up here! This beautiful cock is all I could think about at the pool. I wanted it so bad! I was so wet I had to put on my cover up."
"Yeah, well times a wastin' bitch, turn around and bend over this bed! I'll give you what you need!"
Amber found Nick's demanding bedroom behavior intoxicatingly hot. She quickly slid her feet onto the floor, gripped the crumpled bed sheets with both hands and looked wantonly back over her shoulder, "Don't make me beg Nicky..."
The confident black man coolly grabbed her right smooth thigh and guided her knee up on the bed with her other foot still planted firmly on the floor giving him the leverage he needed to fuck her good. And now with her legs spread he growled, "Tell me what you want!"
"Oh God Nick, I want that big thing in me right now! I never imagined it would be so good, please put it in!" She whimpered.
Nick squeezed her plump left ass cheek hard and spread it aside while guiding his purple dome along her wet crack starting at her asshole and finishing on her sopping labia. His ample pre-cum oozed thickly, coating her fuck channel in a viscous gruel.
Amber moaned in anticipation and excitement, "God Nick, I want it so bad...please!"
Nick slapped her splayed lips, splattering their combined wetness before lining it up and stuffing the engorged head inside. She groaned as her face fell to the mattress, "Oh yeah...God yes...uhn...it's so big Nick..."
Nick savored the divergence between her dripping pussy juices coaxing him inside versus the restrictive tightness of her stretched lips resisting his dark intruder.
This was a battle the stretched gatekeepers would soon lose and were elated to do so when moments later, several inches of blood-engorged thick black cock rammed through them with little resistance. Amber screamed, "Oh fuh...stretch me Nick...fill me up baby...I want it all...umph...so good!"
Before long Nick's huge balls mashed against Amber's thighs while the head of his rutted member bumped rudely against her cervix.
"Oooh Nick...I love it so much...I'm so full, I can feel it in places I never...oomph Jesus! You're gonna make me cum on it so fast like before...yeah...oh God yes...please don't stop!"
"Feel better than your boyfriends little dick?"
"Ugh...
...uhn...yes...Tommy isn't half the man you are! He could never make me feel like this! Fuck meeee Nick," Amber whimpered, orgasm approaching in a tidal wave of pleasure.
Her breathless admissions spurred him on. He increased his pace and hammered into her harder, "Cum all over it bitch!"
"Oh God yes I'm going too...that's it Nick...like that...fuh...oh...oh...yeah...you got it...uhn...I'm going to cum...I'm going to cum! Oh, don't stop...uhn...uhn...yes I'm Cuuummmmiiinnnggg!"
Nick spanked her ass as her thick blonde hair flew in all directions while her entire body shook in a grunting euphoria that lasted a half-minute. Nick fucked her right through her climax before flipping her onto her sinewy back. She instinctively reached for his muscled shoulders while pulling him down and kissing his mouth like a starving woman. When he finally pulled away she stared into his mesmerizing eyes with a look of pure lust before he aggressively spread her tanned legs against his ripped biceps.
"You ready for a big one this time?"
There was a moment of hesitation before they both laughed loudly, then desire took over again, "You're serious aren't you? Shit...that was unbelievable Nick... I've never had an orgasm like that...but oh God yes I want more! I didn't think I could handle this much sex...but please fuck me again, I can't believe I'm saying this, but I want to be your slut!"
An experienced smile formed on his face as a sheen of sweat covered his massive puffed out chest. He knew they couldn't spend
much time fucking again without raising suspicions, but he certainly had no intention of returning to the pool before he got his, "I'll make you my slut alright, you want some more of this good shit before I get my nut?"
"Please baby yes...you know you can get me off whenever you want! I want to cum all-over your big black cock again while you shoot it into me!"
He lowered his head and took one of her stiff nipples between his teeth.
"Oh yeah Nick, I love the way you do that..." She encouraged breathlessly as her long fingernails dug into his back. "You do everything I like...uhn...yeah...suck it...oh!"
Nick repositioned her legs over his shoulders as he picked up the pace and railed into her more aggressively -- his balls slapping against her dripping asshole. He loved that this hot little bitch could already take him balls deep. He pounded her pussy hard.
Amber's satisfied gasps spurred him on while her tight silky tunnel challenged his steely resolve. Her sexy natural tits danced invitingly on her heaving chest, further testing his resolute mettle.
As he stared into her beautiful face, Amber wore a look of pure ecstasy with her glazed eyes rolled back and her mouth open as grunts and moans sounded with each powerful thrust. He'd experienced this look many times before, but there was something about fucking
sexy white chick from Southern California that made it all the better. She represented the hottest kind of conquest: Gorgeous face, smoking body, affluent, smart, popular, and until recently dating a smug, pompous asshole of a boyfriend who was completely incapable of pleasuring her in the way his big black cock was at the moment.
He also loved the way this hot little bitch morphed from the sweet girl next door into a burgeoning little fuck toy once she received her first taste of black snake. Now she was getting the full viper.
"Oh my God Nick you are so deep...fffffffffuck me!" She begged with her hands moving hurriedly along his muscle-covered back.
"Did Tommy ever fuck you like this?"
"Oh...oh...oh God No! No one could fuck me like you do Nick, especially him! You are so much bigger...I love it! You're filling me so full and touching me in places I never knew -- I can't stop cumming for you! I wish we could just skip dinner and fuck all night long!"
Another orgasm overcame her.
"Oh we'll fuck again tonight baby you can count on it! This tight little white pussy is gonna get lots more nigger dick before I'm done! You want it don't you?"
"Oh yes Nick, I love your big black cock! But I want you to get off too. I want you to cum in me again...I can't wait to feel it inside me!"
"Yeah my nut's coming...you don't want me to pull out?" He teased.
"NO...do it in me Nick...please...I can't wait to feel it inside me again! It was so hot before...uhn...uhn...God...please fuck me!"
Sweat covered their naked bodies as Amber's hands found Nick's rock hard ass and pulled him as deeply as she could, "Ohhhhh...ohhhh...Gaawwdd Nick...don't stop...I want to cum with you!"
The bed springs wailed as their bodies tangled together in a wild climax that culminated with Nick's swinging balls painting the walls of Amber's euphoric pussy as her secretions bathed his dark stick in a blast of ejaculate that seeped around his fat cock and dripped down the crack of her ass.
"Oh my God Nick that was amazing..." Amber gasped between panted breaths...best one yet!" She could feel his heart thumping as her hands moved across the smooth black skin of his muscled chest.
Nick labored too, "Fuck yeah, your sweet pussy sucked all that cum right out of my dick!"
"Jesus...it didn't feel like I was sucking anything
of you, it felt more like a fire hose shooting into
!" She joked. They both busted up in post-coital laughter while still out of breath. They collapsed side by side and kissed, "God you really do make me feel good..." Amber mewed.
"Tell me, when did you first know you wanted my big cock?"
"Oh God...I was scared of you at first -- I had never spent much time around black guys. But after a while I got mesmerized looking at you in your Speedo. I always tried to imagine what was in there." She giggled embarrassingly before reaching down and gripping him again, his thick semi-limp cock still glistening with their juices, "I couldn't have imagined something this good. And then when you started going out with Christina, I actually realized I was jealous...especially after she told us about the great sex!"
"That bitch told you guys about our fucking?" Nick laughed.
"She bragged actually! In spite of how you looked in your Speedo, we were all amazed when she told us how big you were!"
"C'mon, you couldn't have been
surprised, I see how you and the other girls stare at my dick." He held off telling her Coach Abbie was one of the most avid culprits. "So after you heard how big I was, is that when you decided you wanted some of the black stick." He asked confidently before looking down and admiring her small white hand stroking his dark-skinned cock.
"I don't know...you were seeing Christina and I was still with Tommy, but I admit I thought about it...a lot!" She admitted sheepishly. "But last night when I knew we were both unattached and out with only Chase and Arnie, I got hopeful. And then when you put my hand on it outside the bar..." she squeezed his cock now for more effect, "...I knew I had to have it!"
"Well you got it didn't you, more than once, huh?"
"God yes, and I'm not done getting it," She responded with a mischievous smile, "but right now we should probably get back down there before anyone suspects something. Why don't you go down first while I clean up and I'll be down in a bit. At least this time I don't have to clean it out of my hair!" She laughed.
They both glanced down and eyed the frothy mess between her legs. Nick joked, "Well not unless you count your pubes!" He laughed at his own joke as she smacked him playfully.
Nick jumped out of bed and Amber watched as his muscled body moved sleekly towards the bathroom. She could see his huge black ball sack hanging halfway down his hamstrings. She peered down between her own legs again and quickly rationalized how he could deposit so much semen in her. She hoped her birth control was doing its job, there were no doubt an incomprehensible number of dark swimmers enjoying themselves inside her at the moment. Her thoughts were interrupted by a stream of pee that sounded like a bucket being poured into the toilet, "God, he doesn't do anything like Tommy..."
*****
Twenty minutes later Amber made her way down to the pool. Justin had set the timer on his watch to see how long it would take her to show up following Nick's arrival ten minutes before. He chuckled to himself when Amber and Abbie entered into a long conversation about her family and their arrival plans for the following day's meet.
The group went for a carb load dinner at Buca di Beppo before getting back to the hotel by 9:00 p.m. Arnie and Chase went straight up to bed while Amber and Nick joined Abbie and Justin for a nightcap at the hotel bar. Abbie avoided asking Amber anything about Tommy as she didn't really know what the current status of their relationship was. Justin obviously knew that the only relationship Amber cared about at the moment was the one she had with Nick's glorious dick.
Ironically, not long after that, the first of several text messages Tommy would send Amber pinged on her phone. She glanced at her device and ignored it.
She would ignore the rest of his messages throughout the night too as she was busy getting a sound big black cock fucking.
*****
The following morning as she showered to get ready for the State meet, Amber reminded herself to check her texts, she knew there was at least one from Tommy. She already knew their relationship was over, but she didn't want to break it to him until after the meet. A million thoughts poured through her mind as the hot water cascaded over her sex fatigued body. But in spite of her physical weariness, her body and mind felt a satisfied excitement she couldn't remember having ever experienced before.
All the stress of the past couple of years had dissipated and she felt a certain confidence that she knew would carry her to excellence today. Her thoughts turned to all the amazing sex she had experienced with Nick over the past thirty-six hours and wondered what might be in store for them moving forward. She couldn't imagine how her parents would respond to her dating a black guy, but that was a conversation for a later day. She committed to herself that she just had to perform her best today and the rest would work itself out when they got back to Sacramento.
She couldn't have known that Nick and Tommy weren't going to make it that easy.
*****
As Tommy's plane taxied to the gate at John Wayne, he powered on his phone -- fingers actually crossed, he hoped that Amber had finally responded to his text messages. He wondered why she hadn't the previous night, but now as he saw a response from her, his heart beat excitedly,
Tommy wasn't totally sure how to interpret her reaction but the fact that she had responded at all and that she had a legitimate reason for not having replied earlier, gave him some sense of hope as to her state of mind. He was ready to do or say anything to convince her to take him back.
Unfortunately for Tommy Wilson he had two major things working against him, his pompous mouth hadn't been permanently stapled shut and more importantly his cock hadn't doubled in size like the big black one his beautiful ex-girlfriend was now addicted to.
*****
Amber Tisdale was a superstar on this day. She won both the three meter springboard and ten meter platform competitions going away. Her family contingent could not have been more excited and proud. Her dad, a Newport Beach Advertising Executive, swung his beautiful daughter around like she was a young girl back at one of her AAU events again.
Amber was so good on this day, she probably could have won the seven and possibly five meter platform events as well, but those weren't her favorites and capturing the two medals that meant the most to her was enough.
Many sets of male eyes in the audience, would have loved to see her compete in two additional events. Those same men couldn't take their eyes off her on the medal stand. The gold medals accented her shapely body to perfection, especially with two skinny, breast-challenged Chinese girls from UCLA and Berkeley respectively on either side of her.
"Hornets Rock!" She screamed to the crowd at the conclusion of the ceremony.
Justin and Abbie could not have been more proud. No one had made a more positive impact on the Sacramento State diving program during their time as coaches than Amber Tisdale. Abbie still couldn't get over how the OC blonde had finally reached her potential following an otherwise disappointing senior season.
Justin
his theory was the reason. Amber dove with the freedom and confidence of someone without any weight on her shoulders. He smiled a wide smile as he knew Nick Thomas' big black cock was the pleasure instrument that was at the root of her enlightenment.
He looked to his left and locked eyes with Nick across the crowd, the cocky black man was having the same thoughts as his coach.
*****
The men's competition had been more hotly contested. Miraculously, with all the collegiate diving talent in the state of California, two divers from Sacramento State battled it out for supremacy in the three highest profile events. Tommy Wilson captured the seven meter platform event by only percentage points over newcomer Nick Thomas. Nick turned the tables on the defending state champion in the three meter springboard competition -- the muscled diver edged Tommy out on his final dive where he reached a spring height that neither Abbie nor Justin had ever seen in all their years of collegiate diving.
Now as the two men climbed the stairs to the top of the highest platform level in preparation for the final ten meter dives of the daylong State Championship competition, they were separated by only a tenth of a percentage point. When they reached the top, Tommy and Nick went through their prep routines before staring at one another like prize fighters.
From the very beginning, their relationship had gotten off on the wrong foot and over the course of the year, their dislike for one another had grown into borderline hatred. Tommy was jealous of Nick's popularity and natural leadership qualities -- he had never gotten over losing the men's team captaincy to Nick.
Nick hated Tommy's holier-than-thou attitude and his suspicion that the prima donna pretty boy was actually a closet racist.
The bleachers were packed with onlookers from every major diving school in the state. The crowd was in an anxious frenzy, knowing full well that whichever of the two Sac State divers performed best in their final dive would win the gold medal in the competition's most prestigious event.
Amber Tisdale's heart beat nervously in her medal covered chest -- she couldn't believe the competition had come down to this. The two men central to her life were miraculously battling it out for the same prize that she had captured herself only hours before. She felt strange not pulling for the guy she had dated for the past two years, but everything in her being pushed her to root for the guy whose big black root had been buried deeply in her garden for the past thirty-six hours.
Amber stared up at Nick's dark-skinned v-shaped back as he prepared on the platform edge facing away from the pool. Even from her vantage point nearly four stories below, she could make out the rippled ridges in his rock hard ass stretching his Speedo. Her thoughts turned to the wonderful organ that stretched the other side. A gush of wetness dampened her own suit.
Justin and Abbie's pride swelled again as regardless of the outcome, both divers had represented themselves and the university with absolute distinction. The coaches held hands, both with clammy palms and butterflies fluttering in their stomachs.
Abbie looked to her right and made eye contact with Nick's mom Angie, herself a former state diving champ. She couldn't imagine how proud the pretty woman must have been of her son at that moment. They smiled nervously at one another as Angie held up both hand's showing crossed fingers. Abbie's smile grew before she nodded supportively.
Nick and Tommy hadn't said a word to one another throughout the day. Now as Nick aligned his toes with the edge of the platform some thirty-three feet above the water with his back to the pool, Tommy spoke for the first time, "Hey, I met your mom earlier this morning."
"Oh?" Nick replied apprehensively looking directly at his rival who stood less than ten feet away. He suspected Tommy was trying to distract him, but wondered where he was going with this.
"Yeah, she seems like a really nice lady, I'm sure she's proud of her
! But...I didn't see a
around anywhere! But then when I thought about it, I wasn't really surprised about that..."
Nick's hands fisted at his sides, he took a deep breath to calm his anger just as Tommy spoke again, "I was thinking, I wonder why we don't see more black athletes in this sport, but then I remembered how much all the training and coaching costs and it made more sense to me. But I guess you were kind of an exception to
because your mom was a diver and you were able to get most of your training for
...huh?"
Nick stared at Tommy with abhorrence in his glare.
"What's the matter Nick, cat got your tongue? Say I was wondering if you remembered what I told you about State Championship judges not rewarding belly flops with much love. As your teammate, I feel compelled to remind you of that little tip."
The black man stared at Tommy's evil grin with hatred before he calmly responded, "Hey speaking of little tips Tommy-boy, Amber
told me about
before she came all over my big cock last night...and I have question for you, does that little birthmark down by
pussy mound remind you of anything? It reminds me of a little happy face!"
Tommy's eyes opened wide and his mouth gaped as if to speak, but no words came out.
Nick pridefully finished, "Actually that's only what it reminded me of
I blew my load all over it! Have a good dive mother-fucker..."
Before Tommy could process what Nick Thomas just said to him, the muscled black diver leaped backwards off the platform. The last thing Tommy Wilson observed as Nick's body rotated and dropped below the platform level was the incomprehensibly huge bulge in the black man's Speedo.
Moments later Tommy heard the crowd erupt in ovation responding to the nearly perfect dive they had just witnessed.
Tommy looked over the edge of the platform as a contingent of family, friends, and Sac State teammates mobbed Nick as he leapt out of the pool with his arms raised and water cascading off his muscular body. To Tommy's unimaginable shock, the first person to wrap her arms around him was none other than Amber Tisdale...
.
Tommy suddenly felt sick to his stomach as the words Nick voiced replayed in his mind,
Tommy fell to his knees as dizziness overcame him just as Nick's nearly perfect scores were announced.
Moments later he heard his name being called by the meet announcer.
A distant voice called his name again.
Tommy Wilson struggled to his feet and wobbled unsteadily towards the edge of the four story platform. As he cautiously peered over the edge, it felt like he was standing at the top of the Empire State Building. From below, the crowd had finally calmed down and now murmured as the announcer called Tommy's name for the third time while voicing a one-minute ready warning.
Tommy tried to remember what dive he was supposed to execute. He struggled to regain his focus and push the image of Amber's beautiful body writhing in ecstasy impaled on Nick's huge black cock from his mind. But as much as he tried, it wouldn't go away. He staggered to the edge of the platform. Everyone below could see that something wasn't right. His body was shaking and his gaze seemed distant and out of focus.
Suddenly just before the minute was up, Tommy Wilson launched himself from the platform edge. Everyone held their collective breaths.
Ironically one of Tommy's patented dives was a picture perfect
dive from the lower platform heights. Unfortunately for the accomplished diver, what transpired over the next couple of seconds from the highest platform, looked more like an
being shot from the sky by an evil hunter. His arms and legs flailed in an uncoordinated abomination that culminated in the worst belly flop crash landing anyone in the audience had ever seen.
Screams and horrified gasps filled the large venue.
Several people near the pool, including Justin Dawson, dove in to rescue the undoubtedly injured contestant. They helped him over to the edge and with the assistance of others on the deck, were able to lift him out. A smattering of dumbfounded applause rang out from the audience when they realized Tommy did not appear too badly hurt.
Two of the people waiting to assist him were Abbie and Amber. When Amber reached for his hand, he yanked it away, "I don't need your fucking help!" He cussed as he moved away with the help of his parents and several event medical staff.
The response stunned both women as well as Coach Justin who looked on from the nearby pool in his soaked sweat suit. It suddenly dawned on Amber as to what must have happened. She turned and glared at Nick, "Did you tell him?"
Justin thought "
as Nick shrugged his shoulders with a pitiless expression on his face. At that moment the announcer's voice came over the loud speaker announcing Tommy Wilson's score as zero point zero.
The Sac State contingent all gazed around at one another in stunned disbelief.
By the time the medal award ceremony started, most who had witnessed the tragic outcome had either departed or calmed down enough to regale Nick Thomas with the congratulations he deserved for his impressive win.
Tommy Wilson, previous Olympic hopeful, didn't even make the medal stand in his final college event.
After the ceremony, Nick congregated around with his mom, a few family friends and most of his Sac State teammates and coaches. He glanced around looking for Amber, but he didn't see her anywhere.
A few minutes later Nick excused himself to the locker room to get cleaned up. The benched locker facility was deserted when he arrived. He plopped himself down and admired the gold medals hanging around his neck. He then pulled out his phone -- his mom had texted him a video of his final ten meter dive. He watched it several times, proud of the way he had executed the difficult maneuver and entered the water with barely a splash.
His thoughts turned to Amber and how she had reacted following Tommy's crash. He looked forward to telling his side of the story, but certainly had no plans of apologizing for what had transpired on the dive platform.
Nick watched his dive video one final time before toggling over to several erotic images he'd snapped during his sexual escapades with Amber. He was in the process of admiring a shot of his rigid black cock in her hungry mouth with her stunning white tits wrapped around his shaft when Tommy Wilson stormed into the locker room. Nick could see vitriol in his reddened eyes as he moved aggressively in his direction, "How dare you, you mother fucker! She and I were only on a break, you had no business coercing her into sex!"
"I didn't coerce shit! She knew exactly what she was doing and she loved every second of it!"
"You fucking liar! If I find out you hurt her, I will kill you you nig...!" Tommy screamed as he lunged at Nick.
Nick quickly evaded his attempt and drove his fist into Tommy's gut. Amber's former boyfriend gasped in pain and crashed into a set of metal locker doors. When he regained his senses, he lunged at the black diver again. This time Nick executed a perfect roundhouse kick that caught the back of Tommy's head and dropped him helplessly to the concrete floor. Nick was on him in a second. He punched Tommy twice in the face, quickly blackening one of his eyes and fattening his lower lip.
Nick then gripped him around the neck just as Coach Justin entered the locker room in search of them. The coach heard a commotion and was just about to move around the set of lockers that divided his location from theirs when he heard Nick's voice, "You kill me? No fucker...if anyone is going to get killed around here it's your sorry ass...none of this would have happened if you hadn't said all those racist things to me on the platform!"
"Racist things? I was just saying the truth and I'd say them again. There are clearly lots of reasons why so few niggers are involved in this sport!"
Justin's mouth fell open in astonishment as to what he'd just heard before another loud sound reverberated throughout the concrete and metal acoustics of the locker room -- it was Nick's open hand slapping Tommy across his face.
He then heard Tommy's bigoted follow-up, "She would never have fucked a high school dropout loser like you unless you forced yourself on her! I'll make sure you spend the rest of your sorry life in prison if you raped her! You might even get to meet your
once you get there!"
Justin waited for another slap of Tommy's face, but it never came -- instead Nick increased the tension in his grip around Tommy's neck, "Raped her? Dude you were too busy making her life miserable for the past two years to realize she wanted out. I just gave her what she's been missing since being with your honky white ass. And now that's she's had a real man's cock, she's never coming back! This is what she looks like when she gets fucked right..." Nick held his phone up in front of Tommy's face showing the erotic image of him titty fucking her while his huge cock filled her mouth. That photo was followed by a handful of others showing Tommy's ex-girlfriend getting the fucking of her life.
Justin wasn't sure what was happening at the moment, but he suspected based on what Nick said and Tommy's audible gasps, that the black diver might be showing him images of his mating with Tommy's former girlfriend.
"Those ain't shit compared to this mother-fucker," Nick screamed before Justin heard the audio portion of an apparent video, "Oooh Nick...I love it so much...I'm so full, I can feel it in places I never...oomph Jesus! You're gonna make me cum on it so fast like before...yeah...oh God yes...don't stop!"
"Feel better than your boyfriends little dick?"
"Ugh...
...uhn...yes...Tommy isn't half the man you are! He could never make me feel like this! Fuck meeee Nick!"
Justin listened in amazement with wide eyes, but his reaction was not nearly as incredulous as Tommy's, who suddenly was incapable of formulating words.
Nick reveled in the vision of complete defeat on Amber's ex-boyfriends stunned face, "What's the matter Tommy, cat got your tongue? Doesn't sound much like rape now does it? I would also say the chances of her going back to your little white cock aren't very good, wouldn't you?"
Tommy's hollow gaze validated that he still couldn't comprehend what he'd just watched and heard before mindlessly nodding in agreement to Nick's question.
Justin considered finally breaking it up before he heard Nick's voice again. "Okay fucker, here's how it's going to work. You're going to slither your way back to Sacramento either tonight or tomorrow, but not on our fucking flight! I don't want to see your sorry ass again, and if I hear you so much as look in Amber's direction before we get back to school I'm going to beat the fucking shit out of you! Do you understand me?"
Tommy nodded at him with scared eyes.
"And let me tell you this, if you do happen to stay the night, I would suggest not getting anywhere near room 1212 unless you want to hear your former girlfriend moaning and calling out my name as she creams all over my big black cock again! Is that clear?"
Tears formed in Tommy's eyes as he silently nodded one final time as blood trickled from his swollen lip. Nick finally released him from his hold and told him to get the fuck out of locker room. Tommy quietly slinked away without saying another word.
Justin came around the corner just as Tommy was exiting and Nick was dusting off his sweats. "Ah, here you are, where is Tommy going?" Justin asked, acting as if he'd just arrived.
"Hell if I know, but I told him he better not come around me anymore!"
"Okay, what the hell's going on here Nick? What happened up on that platform this afternoon?"
"Nothing coach...I don't want to talk about it!"
"Did you hit him or something, why else would he have dove like that?" Justin asked, now knowing that Tommy had probably started it, but suspecting that Nick probably wouldn't tell him anything unless Justin showed suspicion that
was the culprit.
"Hell no coach, I didn't hit him, but I probably should have! As I was getting ready to make my final dive, that son-of-a-bitch starts verbally insulting my mom and my heritage with some of the most racist shit I've heard in a long time. He was clearly trying to get in my head before my final dive, so I had no other alternative than to let him know that I'd been nailing his girlfriend for the past couple of days."
"Nailing Amber?"
"Yeah...Fucking her coach...I guess it was too much for him cuz he dove like a wounded chicken or something..." Nick chuckled.
"Well, I'm very disappointed in both of you for letting it come to this, but if Tommy did say those racist things to you, I can see how it would have been hard to not respond."
"That's the way it went down coach, I swear to you!"
Nick's side of the story validated with what Justin had heard during Nick and Tommy's argument, suggesting he was telling the truth. "All right Nick, why don't you get cleaned up and we'll see you a little later."
*****
An hour later Justin and Abbie sat down with Amber and told her what they'd heard from Nick. Her first reaction was one of embarrassment that her dive coaches now knew more about her personal life than they should have,
But now that that was out in the open, her learning of what Nick claimed happened up on the platform was far more concerning. Amber obviously knew of Tommy's racist tendencies, it had been a source of many of their arguments over the past year. She had heard him direct many inappropriate comments about Nick during that time, so hearing what Nick claimed Tommy said on the platform was not surprising to her.
Amber still wasn't pleased with how Nick responded, but like Justin and Abbie, she understood how hurtful Tommy's verbal attack must have been, "Well thanks for sharing this with me. I'll talk to them both and make my own judgments, but at least I now have a pretty good idea what likely happened up there. Say, I'll just see you guys down at the airport shuttle tomorrow, I don't feel much like partying tonight."
That sentiment was pretty much shared by the entire Sac State contingent -- everyone kind of did their own thing for the night. Justin and Abbie ordered room service but took the opportunity to polish off a couple of bottles of the victory champagne. As Justin had hoped, the bubbly made his wife flirty so he took the opportunity to bring up Nick and Amber's pairing, "So aside from all the rest of this drama, can you believe Nick and Amber hooked-up?"
"No...and I was especially surprised to hear they've been doing it since that first night we got down here! I had no idea!"
Justin held back a laugh, he was the only one who knew, "What is it about that guy? First it's Christina and now Amber, I told you before I thought all the girls were captivated by him, apparently I was right!"
A cute drunken giggle escaped Abbie's mouth, "Well I will admit he does have nice muscles and those unique eyes can be kind of mesmerizing..."
Justin laughed, excited that for one of the first times in two years, Abbie acknowledged some of Nick's attractive physical attributes to him. Knowing she was pretty buzzed and seemingly in a playful mood he teased, "Oh yeah, I'm sure it's his
you and the rest of the girls like to admire on the man!"
This time they both laughed before Abbie replied in a ditzy voice, "I'm not sure what else you could be referring to Mr. Dawson?"
"You know
what I'm referring to Miss Dawson!"
Abbie batted her long eyelashes and smiled a wide smile.
With Abbie obviously in a playful mood, Justin decided it was time to turn the conversation up a notch and gage her reaction, "Honey, I didn't tell you this before, but you know that argument and tussle I heard between Nick and Tommy in the locker room?"
"...yes."
"Well, I didn't tell you everything," Justin acknowledged as Abbie's eyes widened, "near the end, after Tommy admitted saying all those racial slurs, Nick pulled out his phone and showed Tommy a video of him and Amber having sex!"
"OMG, that's really mean!"
"Yeah I guess, but Tommy probably had it coming, but you wouldn't believe what I heard. It was really erotic..."
"Oh?"
Abbie's response showed budding interest so Justin continued, hoping to enlighten his wife about Nick's prowess in the bedroom, "Babe, I obviously couldn't see the video but I heard all the audio...it was really hot!"
"Hmm, I never knew you were the voyeuristic type Justin Dawson..." She replied, guarding her interest in her words but still not expecting the vivid recount her husband had in store.
"Yeah hun I don't remember exactly, but it went something like this,
Abbie stared at Justin with her mouth half open and wetness forming in her panties before she formulated words, "You seem to remember the dialogue pretty vividly..."
"I don't know if that was it exactly, but I think it's pretty close. Regardless, I think it's pretty safe to say she clearly enjoyed it!"
"It appears so..." Abbie expressed somewhat distantly as she tried to imagine Amber getting fucked by the rock-hard version of the same big black cock she'd held in her hands the night of the Masked Masculinity show months before.
"Anyway baby enough about them, what do you say we take this little celebration into the bedroom!" Abbie didn't have to be asked twice. Moments later they were naked on the bed with their clothes scattered around the room.
The State Championship head diving coach from Sacramento State University practically got his dick fucked off that night...
*****
But there was one guy in the hotel that got more pussy --
was in room 1212.
And his name
Tommy Wilson.
At that moment Nick Thomas stood in the shower with hot water beading over his muscled chest. He had only recently removed the gold medals from his naked body before stepping into the steaming shower. Amber Tisdale had done the same with hers, slipping them from her outrageously hot young figure before leading Nick Thomas into the shower by his big black cock.
However, now unlike the large muscled black man, she was no longer standing. Instead, the pretty blonde was down on her hands and knees as copious amounts of water spilled from his muscled black ass onto her head and back. Her face was buried between his cheeks while her long tongue licked the backside of his massive balls. After what started out as a toe-curling blowjob, Nick had taken the opportunity to maneuver his body around until she came face to face with his rigid black ass. Nick liked to refer to this move as the shuttle role.
Amber, in spite of never having done it before, surprisingly did exactly as she was instructed.
Nick was overjoyed that he hadn't had to use more coercion to get his new blonde fuck toy to go from sucking his huge cock to slutishly licking and kissing the backside of his swollen nuts as he tea-bagged her. The excited black man could feel her nose sliding through his ass crack as he bounced his huge nuts on her fluttering tongue. He reached back with one hand and guided the back of her head deeper between his cheeks. Moments later his arousal hit a new high as he felt her glorious tongue start making victory laps around his puckered sphincter,
"Yeah baby, that a girl! Way to take care of the front
the back! Lick it bitch!"
Although Nick Thomas held most of the women he bedded in complete control, he hadn't always been able to coerce many of the Stockton ho's he'd banged in his past life into rimming him like the wealthy girl-next-door from Orange County was doing now, "Yeah baby, tongue that black ass!"
Amber didn't know what came over her. She had never done anything like this, but Nick Thomas wasn't like any other man. She couldn't control her arousal as she alternated between licking his beautiful heavy black sack and his tender ass crack. Nick stroked his massive cock as the pleasure and excitement of what he was experiencing was even too much for
steely resolve, "Oh shit baby, that feels real good, I'm gonna nut! Get ready cuz I'm gonna do it all over your face!"
"Oh God Nick...yes!"
The first eruption splattered against the clear glass shower doors as it pumped from his bursting nuts before he could spin all the way around. His next couple of blasts landed heavily in her wet hair before he finally gained some control. With her help, they directed his spurting black hose towards her beautiful face -- by the time Nick's big balls were empty, a milky white goo stretched from Amber's forehead to her chin. She stroked his cock before taking the oversized head in her mouth. She sucked the final remnants from his leaking slit before pulling it from her lips and using it to push some thick spooge around her face.
Nick guided it back into her mouth one final time with a heavy glob of his semen sheathing the head. Amber opened wide and slurped his cum down her throat before playfully kissing and licking around the head, proving she had swallowed it all.
"Damn baby, you are full of gold medal winning performances today!"
They both laughed, "Why don't you get cleaned up while I mix us some more cocktails. We'll both be waiting for you ladies when you're done!" Nick bragged with a big grin as he held his huge cock in his hand and led her gaze down to it.
"Yeah, we'll both be looking forward to the double date!" She laughed while sliding her hand down to her pussy, Nick Thomas' cum still dripping from her typically radiant face.
The two of them fucked most of the night and nearly missed the airport shuttle the following day. That was just the beginning of a month of some of the wildest sex Amber Tisdale would ever experience. By the time she left for New York a month later, the gorgeous Orange County blonde was addicted to big black cock. She pretty well knew she would never date another white guy.
Especially one named Tommy Wilson...
*****
|
Sansa knew exactly what the Dragon Queen was trying to do.
Once they had followed the Dothraki up the long winding stairs to the main Keep, they had been told the Queen would receive them in the main hall, and they had been led their immediately. No time to take a breath, refresh themselves, take a moment to acclimatise, no, they were thrust immediately into the politics of it all. It was a smart move, but Sansa would be damned if they gave anything away to the Southerners.
She almost laughed at that, her own internal tone even sneered as she thought of 'the Southerners', once she had wanted to be one of them, now she saw them for what they truly were, their entitlement, their cruelty, and the sooner they went back North in her mind, was the sooner the better.
She knew Jon felt the same way, he was glowering at everything in sight, and she laughed before tugging on his cloak as they made their way through the corridors.
"I didn't realise the walls had offended you so" She whispered conspiratorially and that drew a smile from him.
Sansa would not have them showing up looking anything but their best. If the Dragon Queen felt a few stairs would wind the Northerners she was sorely mistaken, they were very used to traversing much more hazardous conditions than neatly carved stairs, they were made of stronger stuff.
And they would not disgrace themselves, all of them stood firm backed, chins up, and though the South was warmer compared to the North (another thing to loathe, how she missed the snow already), they all stood in full Northern regalia, nothing fancy with gems or frippery, but good quality clothing designed not to show off but to battle the elements, though they still looked clean and formal.
Jon of course wore no crown; Sansa hadn't suggested it as she knew he wouldn't have heard of it. Jon was a King not because of some birth right (though she supposed that was different now), but because of who he was, what he had done, he needed no crown to define that.
No, instead he wore black, the heritage from his Nights Watch days, but with a Stark crest on his tunic. The sword strapped at his hip gleamed, and his long black cloak swept across the floor, he looked like a King without the need for a crown.
Sansa had seen that everyone's clothes were well mended, proudly displaying the Stark crest. Sansa had worn her best dress, black and grey, her black cloak with grey shawl at the shoulders, red hair shining under the torchlight. She didn't glare like Jon but wore no smile.
She was not the sort of diplomat to try and win with honey, not with these people.
No, in her mind the sooner this was over the better. They would introduce the two, explain why they had come and be on there way, no need for an extended visit. She understood it would take a few days to hash out terms, to discuss back and forth, but no more than a week did she intend to stay here.
This was not home, once it could have been, the South, but not anymore, not for her.
And though she had a stoic expression, firm and clear, there was a panic worming its way through her stomach. She could feel it, deep in her belly, spreading up across her chest and dancing up her spine, the underlying panic that would have become hysteria did she not clamp down on it. Being back in the South, even Dragonstone was almost too much for her.
Almost, that was the key word.
She could handle this, she would have to handle this, for her House, for her family, for Jon.
He offered her a smile as they approached the throne room, even held out a hand for her, gave her a squeeze. She offered him a genuine smile back, he knew just when to offer her comfort, but then with a frown he dropped her hand, and gave her a nod before stepping forward, and Sansa followed as they had planned, their men behind them.
The might of the North at their back; always.
The doors opened and Sansa rolled back her shoulders. She would feel deep satisfaction in throwing back the Dragon Queen's attempted tactics to ruffle them in her face, though not a glance of it showed on her face, her expression was clear as they stepped forward, and into the main room, she would not be rattled.
I am a Stark; I can be brave.
Would be brave.
He could admit it was impressive.
The throne room was large, high ceilings, carved walls, the large throne at the centre of it all, framed against a large wood lined window. The floor had been polished to within an inch of its life, and torches flamed either side of the throne, with Targaryen banners hooked too.
The contingent was small, some Dothraki, Lord Tyrion and Missandei had left them to use a back entrance and now stood to the right and left of their Queen respectively. He could see a commander and a few of his men dotted around too, but otherwise it was a small contingent.
They had done the same, he stepped forward with Sansa, Davos a touch back from them, Brienne at Sansa's shoulder (who had also refused to hand over her sword, and unsurprisingly no one had challenged her on that), and then ten Stark men, dressed in good, warm, practical clothing but it was neat and tidy, the rest of their men had melted away to their rooms, whilst a few more stood outside, Ghost had been led for food and drink by one of the Stark commanders. Jon wore no crown, and neither did the Dragon Queen.
He glanced up at her, she was pretty, as many had said but that meant nothing to him, pretty hardly made a good Queen. Of course, to him it didn't matter if she was a good Queen, as he and his had no intention of being ruled by her, though he hoped for the sake of the South she was.
She wore fine clothing, as did her men, and the Dothraki carried harsh curved weapons, the more formal soldiers' spears strapped to their backs. His men were unarmed but he wasn't worried, Northerners didn't always need weapons to win a fight, and he had Longclaw at his hip which had seen him through many a battle.
As they stepped forward, he glanced at Sansa, who in some respects mirrored Queen Daenerys. Her expression was clear, her clothing black too, they both clasped their hands in front of themselves and both left their hair long and flowing, though the Dragon Queens was the colour of ice, Sansa's of fire.
Usually he preferred ice, but not in this instance.
But here they were, and though he was trying not to glare, he knew he looked uncomfortable, he felt uncomfortable, his instincts raised, and a desire to grab Sansa and leave, sprint back to the North where everything was known screamed at him, but he was a brave man, and he knew why he had come, why he had needed to come.
"What fights ice"
"Fire"
He hadn't had a choice, and he wasn't leaving until he'd exhausted every option to get the Queen on side, short of bending the knee of course.
His people wanted to win the war, to live, but they also wanted to be free, perhaps even more, he would never sacrifice that on their behalf, never.
"Here we go" Sansa muttered under her breath, and he near smiled as Missandei started talking, of course Sansa had a good ear for all of this, and though he'd initially been worried about her coming, he wasn't surprised she was invaluable to helping him navigate the situation.
But then, that was how they worked, he the sword, she the shield, he would cut down their enemies, organise the supply lines, lead his men into battle and draw up their plans, whereas Sansa would fix the men's armour and rally them, would drink soup in the barracks and then negotiate with a Southern house, would advise him on the courtesies he needed as King before gutting someone who was about to stab them in the back.
He may be the King, but Sansa ruled by his side.
"You stand in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, rightful Heir to the Iron Throne, rightful Queen of the Andal's and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms, the Mother of Dragons, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, the Breaker of Chains"
It was only the thought of Sansa chiding him that stopped him raising his eyebrows; Southerners, by the gods she may have not been born here, but she was already one of them.
And yet, he knew they needed to introduce him in a similar fashion, as Sansa had said, moments like this were about displaying courtesies, about 'playing the game' as much as he despised it.
"Here we present Jon Snow" One of the Northern men stepped forward, and Jon near smiled, he wasn't sure if Sansa had deliberately chosen the man with the thickest accent, but he could see a sparkle in her eye, though her face remained smooth, "King in the North and Lord of Winterfell, Protector of the First Men"
He had insisted the end bit be added, the First Men were his to protect, the responsibility he held true, his responsibility, not the Dragon Queens.
"Next to him is Lady Sansa Stark, Lady of Winterfell" The man said, and Jon felt pride blaze in his chest, for his family, for Sansa, for them.
The North was theirs, and Jon would die before he bent the knee.
He wished Tormund was here to hear him say that he sounded like the freefolk, which to him was a compliment, he understood their desire and need to be free more than ever now.
They would not kneel.
"Thank you for travelling so far my Lord, I hope the seas weren't too rough" The Queen said, and he felt Sansa stiffen next to him at the slight, it didn't bother Jon as much, but he didn't tamper down his glare, Sansa would have his head on a pike if he answered to that.
"Apologies I understand our caller has a Northern accent, but Jon Snow is King in the North your Grace, he is not a Lord" Davos spoke for them then, and Jon near smiled, were he not trying to keep an impassive expression.
"Forgive me..?" The Queen asked then.
"Your Grace this is Ser Davos Seaworth" Tyrion said, Sansa was still and stiff beside him, she would talk he knew when she needed to.
"Forgive me Ser Davos, I never did receive a formal education" A pause, "But I could have sworn that I read the last King in the North was Torrhen Stark, who bent the knee to my ancestor Aegon Targaryen, in exchange for his life and the lives of the Northmen, Torrhen Stark swore fealty to House Targaryen in perpetuity" Another pause, this time measured, "Or do I have my facts wrong?"
"You do, your Grace" Sansa spoke before Ser Davos could and Jon resisted a smile, he trusted Sansa completely, she knew better than any of them how to handle situations like this, "The last King in the North before my brother, was King Robb of House Stark, when the North and the Riverlands rebelled against the oppressive Lannister rule" She paused then, "You weren't here of course"
"No" The Queen sounded harder then, but Jon did not flinch, "However, Torrhen swore to House Targaryen, not Lannister, and again in perpetuity" She paused then, but her composure had cracked just a touch, "What does in perpetuity mean Lord Tyrion?"
"Forever" He echoed, he sounded more measured.
"Forever" She repeated, her composure clawed back some, though she still sounded cold, "So I presume, my Lord, you're here to bend the knee"
And Jon knew it was his time to speak.
"I am not" Simple, but to the point, Jon's way of diplomacy.
"Oh" The Queen did not sound surprised, "Well that is unfortunate" She sounded calmer now, but the ice was underneath, Jon could appreciate that, but it did not change his stance, nothing would, "You've come all this way to break faith with House Targaryen?"
"Break faith?" Jon felt the need to speak then, even if it was from an emotive place, he even smiled at the gall of the Queen, her expectations were ridiculous, "Your Father burnt my Grandfather alive, he killed my Uncle, he would have burned the Seven Kingdoms…"
"My Father was an evil man" The Queen interrupted, "On behalf of House Targaryen I ask your forgiveness for the crimes he committed against your family" She sounded sincere Jon noted, "And I ask you not to judge a daughter for the sins of her Father"
Jon knew she didn't know about his heritage, but the way she spoke, it resonated with him, and she seemed sincere for the first time, perhaps they could reach an accord, he hoped so.
"We can forgive your Grace" Sansa spoke then, jumping in with her cool tone before the Queen could continue, "But the North remembers, we do not forget"
Jon felt that pride blaze in him again, and only nodded as the Dragon Queen looked at him, she'd barely glanced at Sansa, and when she did her expression hardened.
"Our families were allies for centuries, and those were the best centuries the Seven Kingdoms had ever known, centuries of peace and prosperity with a Targaryen sitting on the Iron Throne, and a Stark serving as Warden in the North" There was the word 'serving' and it told Jon everything he needed to know; he served his people, not any Southerner.
"I am the last Targaryen Jon Snow" Well, she was wrong about that, "Honour the pledge your ancestor made to mine, bend the knee and I will name you Warden of the North, we will save this country from those that seek to destroy it"
They had the same goal in a sense, but Jon's priorities, those of the North, of his people, would never align with hers.
Jon glanced around then, to Sansa, who's expression was slightly harder to, to Ser Davos who gave him a nod, Sansa glanced at him but said nothing, this was his time to speak, he was the King after all, his decision to make.
And yet it had been made before they had ever left the North.
"You're right" He began, "You're not guilty of your Fathers crimes, just as I am not beholden to my ancestors' vows"
Her expression hardened further then, the ice underneath indeed, and any sincerity was banished from her expression, she was a Queen not used to hearing no, clearly.
"Then why are you here?" She threw back quickly, he supposed he should be thankful she didn't lead with a threat.
"Because we need your help, and you need mine" He said, Sansa had almost suggested not going straight in with some mystical Northern threat but that was one point Jon had put his foot down on, he understood why it might be wrong, but Jon was a plain speaker, this was why they had come.
"Did you see three dragons flying overhead when you arrived?" She asked, and Jon knew to go along with it, for now.
"I did"
"And did you see the Dothraki? All of whom have sworn to kill for me"
"Aye"
"And yet, I need your help?" She said sarcastically, Sansa remained stiff, and Jon knew she was furious, but better at hiding it.
"Not to defeat Cersei" Ser Davos piped up, "You could storm Kings Landing tomorrow and the city would fall, hell we almost did it and we didn't have dragons"
"Almost" Tyrion interjected, he was colder too, the mirror of Sansa, and Jon felt a twinge of annoyance at that he ignored.
"But you haven't stormed Kings Landing" Jon pressed on, he would not get bogged down in posturing, "Why not?" He asked, but made no room for answer, "The way I see it you don't want to kill thousands of people, it is the fastest way to win the war but you won't do it, which means at the very least you're better than Cersei"
"He's right" Sansa spoke then, "You should storm Kings Landing, it is the smartest move, but you haven't, which is something I suppose" Sansa said with a shrug, and he noted the Queen look at her properly then, as though evaluating her, before she turned back to him.
"Still, that doesn't explain why I need your help"
"Because right now you and I and Cersei are children, playing at a game screaming that the rules aren't fair" He could practically feel Sansa internally wince, but nothing was betrayed on her face.
"I thought you liked this man?" The Queen threw at her hand.
"I do" He said firmly.
"In the time since he has met me, he has refused to call me Queen, as has his sister, he has refused to bow, and now he is calling me a child"
"I believe he is calling all of us children" Tyrion said diplomatically, "A figure of speech"
"Your grace, everyone you know will die if we don't defeat the enemy to the North"
"As far as I can see you are the enemy to the North"
"I am not your enemy" He knew Sansa wouldn't like that, but he continued, "The dead are the enemy"
"The dead?" She asked, eyebrow raised, and he wanted to curse, narrow minded Southerners. "Is that another figure of speech?"
"The Army of the Dead is on the march, the Others come for us" Jon continued; he wouldn't be deterred by mocking.
"The Army of the Dead? The Others?" Tyrion asked then, eyebrow raised too.
"Enough" Sansa interjected then, and her voice held the ice the Queen could only hope to imitate, "We should discuss this further in a formal council, when we have had time to think and process" She said, and at Tyrion's nod, Jon knew she had made the right move, they were making little progress here.
"We came here to treat with you" Sansa said, looking up at the Queen, though there was no deference in here, "Know that we will never bend the knee, but once we explain to you what is happening, you will help us, you must"
"I must?" The Queen threw back, and there was hostility there that hadn't been present with him, "You seek to order your Queen?"
"You are not my Queen" Sansa said, and she did not flinch, and Jon had never felt prouder of her, "But we will work with you" She paused then, measuring her words, "If you can see the sense to"
And at that Sansa turned away, in a swirl of her skirts, and Jon knew he had to follow. Diplomacy had slipped a little and the Queen looked furious, but he knew Sansa had made the right move, here they were squabbling.
"Your grace" He said with a nod, offering her the respect she refused him, before he turned away and followed his sister.
Ser Davos remained to speak of meeting later, of a council after dinner, but Jon followed Sansa.
They had much to discuss.
"See to it each house and keep sends a third of their grain and wheat storages to Winterfell" He spoke as he hurried through the corridors, Maester Walden at his side, Lord Royce too, "Have them ship it over, if we don't use it by Winters end we'll send it back" He paused then as Lady Catelyn walked next to him too, and made way for her to descend the stairs first, "If the entire North needs to flee to Winterfell we should be prepared"
"Maester you'll see to it?" He asked, and the new Maester nodded, and Ned felt a pang for Luwin.
Everything was so different.
The Keep itself was mostly unchanged, though he could see new additions, bits that had been replaced and improved, but the people, the people were vastly different.
Of course, he recognised some, and was pleased as they nodded at him, offered him a smile and a nod of the head, but this wasn't the home he remembered.
The home he remembered was long gone.
Still, Ned was not a man to linger on past mistakes, not when there was so much work to do, of course at night they plagued him, what he had done wrong, what he had messed up, and he knew from his dreams …
Lyanna
Benjen
Sansa
Arya
Robb
Jon
Bran
Rickon
Each night he dreamt of one of his children, of his brother and sister, of how he had failed them, of how he had failed them all.
And just two weeks earlier as Sansa had sat at dinner, Bran had spoken of her wedding, and she had fled from the hall… Jon running after her to comfort her.
He had sobbed that night, in the privacy of the Godswood, had sobbed for failing his daughters in the Capitol.
During the day was easier, especially now he held command. Ned didn't feel a need to be in charge, he had happily relented to Jon, but he knew he was good at it, good at organising, he knew Winterfell, he knew the North, and he knew how they needed to prepare.
It was good to feel useful, good to feel needed.
He had failed his family, had spent too long in the dark (though to him it had felt like a night's sleep) unable to help them, now was the time to make up for it, now was the time to redeem himself as much as he could (though he knew he'd never be fully absolved), now was the time to help the North, help his children, help Jon.
Jon.
The King in the North now, and Ned had never felt prouder. Whereas he had failed House Stark, and Robb had fallen due to his inadequate teachings, Jon had endured, he had remained, and he had won back Winterfell, had restored their family seat, and protected Sansa at his side. He had never been prouder of his nephew, of Lyanna's boy, and he could imagine her smiling down on him from the heavens above.
"Also ensure we are planting heavily in the Glass Gardens, squash, peas, sprouts, hearty vegetables to get us through Winter" He said, "Cat you'll oversee that?" He asked then and she nodded, as she had often overseen projects like this in the past.
"Lord Royce can you see to ensuring all armour, swords and mail are moving along quickly?" He asked then, and the Lord smiled at him, they had an older accord, worked well together and he nodded before bustling off.
"I'd forgotten how good you were at this" His wife said, and he offered her a smile, if this was what he could contribute he was happy, happy to help, to support his King.
Ned had not lost his honour, for all it had cost him, Jon was the rightful King, he had never even questioned it.
Though others had.
"Aye" He said with a nod, as they passed through the courtyard. He glanced out the gate and could see Robb leading their men and soldiers through drills, Greywind and Lady at either side of him, Tormund too. He had put him in that position; Master of Arms for the castle, understanding he would need a purpose too, and Robb was thriving in the role, already he had put together a schedule of practice and was running the men through drill after drill. Tormund was his second, Robb had been shrewd in naming him, to which the ginger wildling had laughed and clapped him so hard on the back Robb had near fallen over.
"Just practiced at it" He said, Ned had always been a humble man.
They all needed their purpose, and their primary one now was to support the King.
"Yes, because you should be the Lord of Winterfell" Cat insisted, and Ned had to resist the urge to roll his eyes and bite his tongue. He loved Cat, but everything she had feared, every whisper she had said of Jon as a boy in her eyes had come true, he had stolen her children's birth right. It was foolish, Jon had restored their House, not stolen it away, but Cat had always been blinded when it came to Jon, even now she knew the truth.
"Jon is Lord of Winterfell as he is King" He repeated, as he had to her anytime she had brought this up, he was just thankful she had only raised it with him, "That will not change"
"It is not his right" She hissed and Ned trudged up the stairs to one of the balconies, but then turned to look at Cat, he loved her, felt horrible shame for having left her alone in the world, but they would always disagree on one fundamental subject even now; Jon.
"It is" He insisted, "He won through conquest, through restoring our House, and he is a Stark, he is still of my blood, through Lyanna"
"He is a Targaryen" Cat said, venom full in her tone, "He is not a Stark, he is not even a Northerner"
"And neither are you" He threw back harshly, but paused with a sigh, he hated to fight with Cat, but felt a need to shut this down, "Jon is our King, he has the support of the people, as he should, and he will rule the North, there is no changing it"
"But Robb…" Cat began again, and he cut her off swiftly.
"Robb lost the crown" It was harsh but true, Robb had told him the tale himself just a few days after returning and had wept on his shoulder, to which Ned had lost a tear or two himself. He was doing better now, happy to oversee the Castle defences and would one day rule the Dreadfort, but he was a shadow of the boy he remembered, hardened by war, and losing the North.
They all had a long way to go to heal, but they had to live first.
"Jon is our King, he took Winterfell back, he restored our House, he protected our daughter" He knew he spoke harshly then, even raised his voice, but he had to, he had to get this across, "Jon is the King, I will support him in this completely"
"Have you seen the way he looks at our daughter?" Cat spat at him, "His own sibling until he knew the truth, the way they laugh and talk and sit together?" She asked and Ned sighed then, because he had seen it, he hoped Cat hadn't, preoccupied with Rickon and even talking to Bran, he had hoped she hadn't seen what he and Robb had.
"That is not the point" Ned said, for he had no real answer, he had seen it too.
"He will steal our children's birth right, and our eldest daughter" Cat sneered, he hated to see this side of her, this venom that was only present when it came to Jon, "And you will let him"
Before he could stop her, she turned in a whirl of her skirts and left, that was an unresolved issue and he rubbed his head.
Death had been more peaceful, without a headache, but he was glad to be here, complicated as it was, the guilt near drowning him at times. He had a place, he had a role to play, protect the North, protect the pack, protect his King.
And he would do so, even if it killed him again. |
Dani Clayton was scared. This was not what she signed up for when she came to England. Mr. Wingrave had informed her just yesterday about their trip to Egypt, as well as the possible danger that awaited them there. While she was excited to see a new country and already mentally planning the places she would take Miles and Flora, she was scared about the threats made against them. She knew Mr. Wingrave was withholding information, but what he did tell her was enough to worry her. Something about a terrorist organization and weapons deals. He said they were just trying to intimidate him and that Dani and the children would be “perfectly safe.” Dani wanted to believe him, but she knew enough to know that MI5 didn’t get involved unless there was a credible threat. She had seen enough movies to know that. Dani didn’t necessarily think it was a good idea to put the children in danger like this, but he had assured her that they would all be protected. And, what could she do? He was her boss. If he wanted her to go with them, she would go.
Dani was staring out the window of the limo, watching the world outside blur as they drove past. They were on their way to the airport. She couldn’t believe they were really doing this. She’d barely had time to process it.
“Miss Clayton,” Henry began. “I’ve received word from MI5 about our security detail. It seems that they have assigned you your own agent, separate from the children.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, an Agent Jamie Taylor. That’s all I know, I’m afraid. Agent Taylor will be waiting for you at the airport.”
“What about us, Uncle Henry?” Flora asked excitedly. This was all a big adventure to her. They hadn’t told the children why they were all getting new “friends” for the trip.
“You, my dear, will be spending time with Agent Rebecca Jessel,” Henry said cheerfully.
“Oh, she sounds perfectly splendid!” Flora responded.
Dani went back to staring out the window. Agent Jamie Taylor. That’s who she would be spending the next week with. Dani pictured him as a middle age white man in a suit with not an ounce of humor in him. She sighed. It was going to be a long week.
They drove on the tarmac directly to their plane at the private airport. MI5 did not want them flying commercially. Dani had never been on a private jet before. As they drove up, she saw three agents waiting for them at the bottom of the steps to the plane. They all wore black and white suits and looked very intimidating, like Men in Black, Dani mused to herself. All they needed were the sunglasses. Dani wondered which one was her’s. Much to her relief, none of them looked like what she had imagined. Her eyes were instantly drawn to the brunette, who stood a head shorter than the others. Could that be Jamie Taylor?
Dani and the Wingraves got out of the car. Dani hung back with the children while Henry went to greet the agents, shaking hands with each of them in turn. They then walked over to Dani, Miles, and Flora.
“And you two must be Miles and Flora! I’m Rebecca,” Agent Jessel said, kneeling down to greet the children.
“Oh yes, and it’s perfectly splendid to meet you! We are going to have the best time this week. We are going to see the pyramids and ride the camels and do everything together!” Flora said, the words tumbling out.
Rebecca laughed and offered her hand to Flora, leading her towards the plane and listening to her the whole way. Miles shrugged and followed after them. Dani was thankful that Agent Jessel was so warm and was already making the children feel comfortable. Henry was engaged in conversation with his agent, who had introduced himself as Owen Sharma. Dani could feel the brunette’s eyes on her.
“So, you must be Dani Clayton then?”
“Th-that’s right,” Dani said nervously. The agent had the best voice she had ever heard.
“Agent Jamie Taylor. Nice to meet ya,” Jamie said, offering her hand.
Dani shook her hand and tried not to think about how attractive Agent Taylor was. She laughed awkwardly.
“Something funny, Poppins?” Jamie asked.
Dani laughed again. Poppins.
“No, ummm, it’s just that you’re not what I was expecting,” Dani said.
“Hmm, and what were you expecting?”
“A- a man,” Dani stammered.
“Sorry to disappoint you there,” Jamie replied.
“Oh, I’m not disappointed!” Dani said quickly, maybe a little too quickly. The speed of her response was not lost on Jamie.
Jamie smirked. “Good to know. Well, shall we?” She asked, gesturing towards the plane.
“Yeah, let’s go.” Dani was suddenly feeling much more interested in this trip as she followed Agent Taylor.
“Wow,” Dani said as she entered the plane.
“First time flying on one of these?” Jamie asked.
“Yeah, I’m used to being crammed into a middle seat. This is just…wow.”
Jamie smiled. She could already tell that Dani was someone with a zest for life, who always found something to be excited about. She imagined she could do worse than spend the week with the enthusiastic American.
Henry and Owen were already sitting at a table, lost in conversation, pouring over files. Rebecca had taken the children to the back of the plane. Dani moved to join them, but a gentle hand on her arm stopped her.
“They’re in good hands with Agent Jessel,” Jamie said. “It’s important for each of us to spend the flight working with our individual assignments, going over protocol and such. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to spend at least some of the flight sitting up here with me,” she said, gesturing towards two seats near the front of the plane.
“Oh. Yeah, of course, that’s fine,” Dani said quickly. “I mean, I could use a break anyway, you know?”
“Do you want the window seat?” Jamie asked.
“Umm no, I’m actually pretty scared of flying. The less I can see of it, the better. How long is this flight again?” Dani asked nervously as she sat down next to Jamie, who had moved to the window seat.
“About 5 hours,” Jamie replied. “Anything I can do to help you?” Jamie was surprised that Dani had so openly admitted to her fear of flying. That vulnerability made Jamie want to make things as comfortable as possible for the au pair, although she didn’t really know why. Typically, she would have been annoyed sitting with someone so jittery.
“Just talk to me,” Dani answered in response to her question. “You know, distract me. That helps.”
“Got it, Poppins. Five hours of distractions coming right up.”
Dani giggled.
“Sorry, is it okay that I call you that? It’s just sort of how I thought about you the instant I was given this assignment,” Jamie confessed.
“Yeah, it’s okay. I like it, actually,” Dani replied, smiling. Then she added, “So, I’ve never been someone’s ‘assignment’ before. This is all pretty strange for me. I mean, you’re MI5. That’s kind of a big deal.”
Before Jamie could respond, the pilot made an announcement that they would be preparing for takeoff. The kids cheered in the back. Henry did not react at all. Dani took a deep breath and tightened her seatbelt.
Jamie was thinking about what Dani had said. An assignment. That was all this was, right? Why was Jamie looking forward to spending the next week with the au pair? She knew she needed to be careful and keep things professional. It was hard though when she found herself just so curious about Dani. She wanted to know more about her. Jamie looked out the window as the plane picked up speed. She felt, rather than saw, Dani tense up next to her. She looked over to see the young woman gripping the arm rests. She resisted the urge to reach out and take her hand. Why did she even have that urge? Jamie turned back to the window as the plane lifted off the ground. It was, unfortunately, a windy day in London and the small plane hit turbulence almost immediately. The plane felt like it was dropping for a split second as it was buffered by the wind. Dani gasped and instinctively reached for Jamie’s hand, finding it and holding it tight. Jamie was startled by the contact but didn’t flinch away. She let Dani hold her hand and rubbed her thumb over the back of Dani’s hand in soothing circles. She looked over at the au pair to discover that she was squeezing her eyes shut and trying to breathe, her hand in a death grip with Jamie’s.
“It’s going to be okay. We just have to get above the clouds a bit and the turbulence will stop,” Jamie said calmly. “Hey, look at me, Dani,” she added gently, still holding her hand and squeezing back.
The plane continued to be rocked by the turbulence. It sounded to Dani like the whole plane could rip apart. Dani opened one eye and glanced over at Jamie.
“You’re okay,” Jamie said. “You can open your eyes. Just look at me. I’ve done a poor job of distracting you thus far, so I need to make it up to you.”
That earned a small smile from Dani, who seemed to have just realized she was holding the agent’s hand. She let go quickly.
“I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t have—“
“It’s okay, really,” Jamie replied, secretly missing the contact. “See? The plane’s leveling off already. Smooth sailing to Cairo.”
“I hope you’re right about that. Sorry I freaked out. I can’t guarantee it won’t happen again though,” she said, feeling embarrassed.
“I think I can handle it,” Jamie said confidently. “I’ve seen worse.”
“Yeah, I bet you’ve seen all sorts of things.”
“I’ve seen a thing or two in my time, yeah,” Jamie answered. “But, for right now, let’s get to work. Ok?”
“Ok,” Dani said timidly.
“How much do you know about what you’re getting into here?”
“Not much, honestly. Maybe you better start at the beginning,” Dani suggested.
Jamie told her was she was cleared to tell Dani, which admittedly wasn’t much. She briefly explained Viola’s criminal enterprise to Dani and how Henry Wingrave was a threat to her. She mentioned Peter Quint but did not share his connection to the team. She did not mince words with Dani when it came to the threats against her and the children. She needed Dani to understand the danger she was in and that she needed to do everything that Jamie told her to do. It was all for her own safety. The thought of Viola, Peter, or any of their associates hurting Dani or the children made anger well up in Jamie. They were innocent and not a part of this life at all. To some extent, Henry had chosen this, but Dani and the children had not. Dani listened quietly to everything Jamie said, not interrupting her. Jamie could feel a weight settle on Dani that was not there before as she began to understand how precarious her situation was. Jamie decided to check in with her, telling herself that knowing Dani’s mental state was critical to the success of her mission.
“I know that’s a lot to take in. How are you holding up, Poppins?”
“Honestly, I’m a little scared,” Dani admitted.
“Good,” Jamie said matter of factly.
“Good?” Dani questioned.
“Yeah, it means you won’t do anything stupid. Makes you more likely to listen to me,” Jamie said.
Dani nodded. “I guess I just didn’t realize we were in quite this much danger. Henry, he uh, didn’t make it seem like it was a big deal. You know?”
Jamie suspected as much. She wished that Henry had been more forthright. Maybe Dani would have chosen not to go. But, Jamie reminded herself, the same threats could find her in London, too.
“I’m glad you’re here though,” Dani added quietly. It tore at Jamie’s heart.
“Me too,” she said back, immediately knowing she shouldn’t have said it. Her regret was short lived when she saw Dani smile in response. That smile was doing things to her. Jamie wanted to see it again. Wanted to be the reason for it. “I’m going to keep you safe, Dani. That’s my job, and I’m damn good at it,” Jamie said confidently. Way to go, Taylor, you doubled down instead of shutting up.
As predicted, Dani smiled. “So, how is this going to work? With us?” Dani asked.
Us. The word hung between them for a moment. Both of them feeling the weight of it, the possibility of it. And both of them also knowing that this was strictly a business arrangement.
Jamie cleared her throat. “This is how it’s going to go, Poppins. For the next week, you don’t do anything without me. You don’t go anywhere without me. You are by my side the entire time. You don’t go into a room until I’ve cleared it. You don’t talk to strangers unless I’m present. You will do everything I tell you to do immediately and without question. Hesitation could cost you your life. Do you understand?”
Dani nodded. “Yes, I understand,” she said quietly. The intensity in which Jamie spoke scared Dani. She knew this was serious. Jamie was essentially her bodyguard, and that suddenly made Dani feel very guilty. She had only just met this woman, but she did not want her risking her life for her. She was no one. Dani furrowed her brows.
“What’s going on in that head of your’s?” Jamie asked. Dani was surprised that Jamie had picked up on the shift in her mood, but she also guessed that’s what she had been trained to do. She decided to be honest.
“It’s just that, I don’t really like that you are going to be in danger because of me,” Dani replied.
Jamie laughed. “Dani, I’m in danger every day. This is my job. It’s nothing for you to worry about.”
“But, it’s just that… I’m not worth all of this.”
The comment made Jamie sad, but she didn’t delve into it. “Well, the British government says otherwise. So, I’m afraid you’re stuck with me. Don’t worry, you’ll be rid of me in a week.”
That didn’t make Dani feel better at all. The thought of saying goodbye to Jamie Taylor in a week made Dani feel sick. It didn’t even make sense. They had only just met. What was this connection she felt to the agent? She needed to let it go. She was only an assignment to the other woman. Nothing more.
“Do you have any other questions about how this will work?” Jamie asked gently, trying to reassure Dani.
A question did occur to Dani. “What about, you know, our sleeping arrangements?”
“We’ll be sharing a hotel room, if that’s what you’re asking,” Jamie replied. “We can’t let our guard down, especially at night. We’ll have an adjoining room with Agent Jessel and the children.”
Though neither would admit it, that thought did something to both of them. They would be spending their nights together. Dani decided to lighten the mood a bit.
“Ok, so ummm, do I get to go to the bathroom on my own?”
Jamie laughed. “Yeah, you can do that. But, only after I check it first, make sure no beasties are lurking in the shower,” she said, winking for good measure.
“Well, I hope you’ll also check under the bed for monsters then,” Dani teased.
“Oh yes, that’s part of the package deal. I shoot monsters under the bed on sight. They teach us how to do that in spy school, you know?”
“You really are a woman of many talents,” Dani replied.
“Oh, you have no idea,” Jamie said, without a hint of irony.
Dani’s throat suddenly felt dry. She wanted to have an idea of those talents, she really did. Pull yourself together, Dani. Don’t flirt with the sexy agent.
“Maybe I should go check on the kids,” Dani said. She needed some space.
“Yeah, of course. I’m sure they’re missing you.”
Jamie felt the loss of Dani’s presence almost immediately. She was only a few feet away from her, but Jamie liked having her right next to her. Something about Dani soothed her. The flight was going by way too quickly. But, Jamie also knew that she need a moment of separation to rein her thoughts in. She had to remain objective. This had never, ever been a problem for her before. If she did not remain objective, she could make a mistake. And, she absolutely did not want to make a mistake where Dani Clayton was concerned. She stared out the window, but there wasn’t much to see. It was dark. Jamie knew she should probably get some rest, but her mind was racing. Dani returned ten minutes later.
“How are they holding up?” Jamie asked.
“I think they like Agent Jessel better than me now,” Dani laughed. “They are totally fine.”
“See? Nothing to worry about. They are in very capable hands.”
So am I, Dani thought.
Jamie went over a couple more details with Dani and they discussed the schedule for the week, including the sight seeing Dani wanted to do with the kids. But, it was getting late and both women were growing tired. Everyone else on the plane was already asleep and they were whispering now.
“What do you say we get some shut eye?” Jamie asked. She got up and pulled two blankets from the overhead compartment, handing one to Dani.
“Yeah, I’m pretty tired. I’m not usually very good at sleeping on planes though,” Dani said, accepting the blanket and spreading it out over herself.
“But, have you been on a plane with reclining seats like this?” Jamie asked, reclining her’s back in demonstration.
“Oh wow, no!” Dani said in a excited whisper, leaning her’s back, too, and realizing she was essentially laying down next to Jamie, their faces inches apart. Jamie realized it, too.
“Right. Well, sleep well then, Poppins,” Jamie said somewhat awkwardly.
“Goodnight, Agent Taylor. I can’t thank you enough for everything.”
Agent Taylor. That didn’t feel right to Jamie all of a sudden.
“You can call me Jamie. You know, when we’re alone.”
It was dark but Jamie could hear the smile in Dani’s voice.
“Goodnight then…Jamie,” Dani whispered.
Yes, that was better.
|
Stiles noticed some weird parallels between this situation and the day he’d told Scott he was a werewolf, while he was waiting for Derek to show up. Once again, he was sitting at his desk with piles of printed research and tabs open on his computer, waiting for someone to come to his room so he could say something that would probably royally piss them off. But where Stiles’ impulses usually faded after doing a few hours of research, he was still completely sure he wanted to go through with this. Or at least give Derek the option.
When the doorbell rang, Stiles actually almost wished Derek had come through the window so he wouldn’t have to get up and ruin the fragile stillness he’d been working on. Instead, he jumped to his feet and headed down to open the front door.
“Hey, Derek, nice door skills,” he greeted, leaning against the door and shoving a hand in his pocket. “What’s up?”
“Stiles, you texted me, not the other way around.”
“Right! Yeah, so just…” Stiles stepped back and waved his hand to let Derek in. “Dad’s not home, so you won’t have to be social or anything.”
Derek shot him side glances the entire way up to his bedroom, but Stiles just bounced on his heels until Derek was in the room and he could shut the door. After a second, he went over and locked the window too. Finally, he turned to Derek. His hands were sweating. Shit.
“So, I sort of wanted to talk to you about something, but you have to promise not to hit me.”
“Stiles—”
“No, sorry, I mean, I know you wouldn’t hit me. So maybe just don’t hate me? Or, well—”
“Stiles, what’s wrong?”
Derek looked concerned. That was good. If Derek could be concerned, then Stiles could too. Reciprocity, motherfucker.
Stiles shuffled over to his chair, but only got a hand on the back before changing his mind and leaning on his windowsill. “Nothing! Nothing immediate, anyway. So, remember how I know some stuff about you, that maybe not a lot of people know?”
That was possibly the worst way to have started the conversation, as Derek already looked like he either wanted to growl at Stiles or just leave. If he left, Stiles would never get him alone to try this again.
He wiped his hands on his jeans as he added, “Hey, I’m not trying to be a dick or anything. I’m just—Did you, like, ever talk to someone about that? Like, therapy, I mean. Do werewolves even have therapists? Is there like a whole branch of werewolf psychologists and counselors and doctors? If you don’t get sick, do you even—No, not what I wanted to talk about.” Stiles shook his head. “So, did you?”
Derek glared down at the floor, then at Stiles. When he broke the eye contact to look over Stiles’ shoulder instead, Stiles had his answer.
“That’s a no, then.”
With a jaw so tight it looked like it would shatter, Derek turned and started to walk away. Stiles yelped and dashed for his bedroom door, putting himself between it and Derek’s approaching body until they were almost as close as they’d been when Derek was hiding out as a fugitive in his room.
“Wait! Wait, come on, just hear me out,” he begged.
“No.”
“Derek, please. I’m—I’m trying to help, you asshole.”
Though he was perfectly capable of shoving Stiles to the side or unlocking the window and just jumping off the roof, Derek didn’t move, so Stiles took his chance.
“I only asked because I know you have that whole ‘no-touching’ thing, and while I get that maybe you’re just one of those people who isn’t into tactility, I find it kind of hard to believe considering you’re a werewolf and even Jackson wants to have his hands on at least one of us at all times. Not to mention, whatever issue you have seems way worse when it involves me, and I don’t think you hate me that much, so I figure it must be more about the human thing than the me thing. Which kind of led me to wonder…” Stiles paused and looked up at Derek when he realized he’d been rambling to the floor. “I was wondering if maybe it was a relatively new thing for you, since—” He twitched some fingers to encompass the everything that was Kate and the fire.
He wasn’t expecting Derek to start shouting or suddenly burst into tears, but some kind of facial expression would’ve been nice. As it was, Stiles couldn’t read the tension pouring off Derek. He just knew that it looked painful.
“How is any of this your business?” Derek finally snapped.
“I mean, maybe it’s not, but that’s never stopped me before. You think I didn't see that incredibly awkward hug with Jackson after the lake? You know, the one where you were grimacing so hard, I almost thought he’d stabbed you? And that’s not the only time. Whenever you go to touch one of us, you look like you have to brace yourself for it. Like it’s agony. And that’s just not how touching is supposed to work.”
“What do you want from me, Stiles?” He was retreating, backing up out of Stiles’ bubble and getting a few feet away before coming to an unsteady stop.
“Dude, I want Isaac to get hugged by someone other than me once in a while, or you know, be able to sit next to you on the couch without the foot and half distance between you two. He’s so fucking miserable! He spends all his time with us just to have contact with someone, and it’s screwing him up way more than living in the depot or your old house ever did. When we get Erica and Boyd back, I want them to get hugs too, cus’ I know how badly they wanted them before they were taken. But mostly, I just want you to stop hurting yourself every time you try to get close to your pack.” Stiles pushed his palms against his forehead and let them slide through his hair as he took a breath. “I’m not gonna force you to do anything, Derek. If you want us to just keep our distance, then that’s fine, I’ll leave you alone and I won’t bring it up again. I can keep my mouth shut when I need to. But, I think I know how to help, if you’ll just let me try.”
Stiles’ window squealed as Derek shoved it open and left.
Help. Stiles wanted to help.
If anything, Derek was even more on edge than usual by the time he got back to the loft. Isaac was moping, probably about Jackson having to head home early when he’d been staying over for entire afternoons for the last week.
They’d only been acting as pack for about a month, but Isaac and Jackson had been nigh inseparable any time they were in a room together. Stiles had been right about Jackson craving touch like a dying man, and Isaac had been the same from probably before he was bitten. Erica and Boyd had made him reek of happiness with all of their cuddling with him.
Derek could manage no such thing.
Every time he so much as considered putting a hand on Isaac’s shoulder or bumping their foreheads together to greet him or say goodnight, half of him revolted and the other half rejoiced. He missed touch, but every time he got it or forced himself to provide it, his stomach twisted into knots and his skin crawled.
How exactly could Stiles help with that?
He tried to prove to himself that it wasn’t the problem Stiles was making it out to be. Hugging Jackson hadn’t been excruciating, it was just…awful.
When Isaac finally seemed to give up on entertaining himself in the living room and headed for the stairs with a mumbled, “Night,” under his breath, Derek crossed the room and put himself in front of the steps.
Having his minimal interactions with his pack questioned only made things worse, so Derek didn’t wait for Isaac to ask what he was doing and just wrapped around him in as strong a hug as he’d given Jackson at the lake.
Isaac was the pack member he was closest to, even before Boyd and Erica were taken. He was legally Derek’s family, and the one that Derek related to the easiest. This should’ve been easy, comforting even. It hadn’t been that bad when he’d hugged Isaac after their fight, and Derek remembered Laura’s hugs being the only thing to keep him upright some days, even if they weren’t altogether pleasant. Surely, it should’ve been the same with Isaac.
Instead, Derek had to suppress shudders of rolling discomfort, simultaneously holding back a snarl when Isaac’s arms came up to hug him back and trying to keep his hands from shaking on Isaac’s shoulders. Gritting his teeth and swallowing hard stifled the growl at the back of his throat, and Derek waited stiffly for Isaac to break the hug first.
It didn’t take long. Isaac huffed a few breaths of Derek’s scent, then backed up like nothing had happened. Re-establishing their usual distance, he stepped around Derek and jogged up the stairs. He clearly knew how much it took out of Derek to do something as simple as a hug and had done his best to make it as painless as possible.
It shouldn’t be Isaac’s job to keep Derek comfortable. Derek was the Alpha, the parental figure, the actual adult, by human terms. Stiles was right; it wasn’t fair to leave Isaac so touch-starved just because Derek didn’t want to deal with his issues.
—
He waited until the next day, when Peter showed up to do…something. Derek couldn’t even remember the excuse he’d given when he appeared at the door. Whatever it was, it involved him lounging on Derek’s couch and occasionally bickering with Isaac the exact same way that he’d bickered with Derek as teen. Even that seemed to brighten Isaac’s mood better than Derek could.
Once they were settled, Derek left, not bothering to give an explanation besides, “Going out.”
Though he knew that the sheriff probably wouldn’t care if he showed up at the front door, now that they’d actually talked, Derek wasn’t in the mood to be questioned. Not when he couldn’t think of a decent excuse for showing up to talk to Stiles without there being some kind of emergency. So, he climbed up onto the roof and knocked on Stiles’ window, taking at least a little satisfaction from watching Stiles slide off the side of the bed in surprise.
The knocking was just a formality, and Derek didn’t wait for Stiles to actually come let him in before he pushed the unlocked window up and climbed inside.
“I thought we were past the windows,” Stiles groaned as he climbed back to his feet and examined the bent cover of his paperback book.
“What is it?” Derek asked. From Stiles’ awkwardness the day before, he could only assume it would be something Derek wouldn’t like.
Stiles frowned at him and held the book up. “It’s called The Bar Code Tattoo? Why?”
Derek frowned back. “No, Stiles. What is it?” He huffed for a second, then just spit it out. “The touching thing.”
“Oh!” Stiles looked around the room. “I—I put the stuff away. Hold on.”
Tossing his book on the bed, Stiles started moving around the room, pulling papers from the space between the top of his books and the shelf above them, from the actual drawer of the desk, which was absolutely stuffed with what looked like more printouts, and then he dragged a box out from under his bed and grabbed a whole stack from inside it.
“Stiles, stop killing trees,” Derek scolded.
Blinking down at his full hands, Stiles shrugged. “Okay, so maybe I spend more on printer paper and ink than most kids my age. The real tragedy here is that I don’t have a filing cabinet or something to keep these all in.”
Almost businesslike, Stiles rearranged his papers until they were all in one pile on his desk, then sat in his computer chair and took a deep breath. “So, first off, is the werewolf counselor-slash-therapist thing even on the table? Or maybe a human one that you can just…lie to? Cus’ I’m not a doctor, okay? Not remotely qualified—”
“No.”
Stiles sucked on his teeth and sank back into his seat. “Fine. But I’m telling you right now that if this makes everything worse, it’s not my fault. You asked me to do it. And maybe I suggested it in the first place, but that’s not the point.”
Derek stared Stiles down until he went quiet. “What the hell is ‘it?’”
“Have you ever heard of exposure therapy?”
The words were familiar, bringing to mind shitty television and bad movies. “You mean where they put someone afraid of snakes in the middle of a snake pit?”
“Kind of?” Stiles said, voice high. “No, not really.” He began to rifle through the papers without seeming to read any of them. “It’s not torture. It’s an actual therapy technique. And apparently it works really well on phobias, PTSD, anxiety, all that.” Swinging his head around, he set his jaw. “Look, would you sit down or something? Or at least try harder to pretend you’re not about to run out?”
Sighing, Derek went and sat on the edge of Stiles’ bed. To prove he was staying, he even pulled his jacket off. Holding it up for Stiles’ inspection, he tossed it at the pillow. “Talk.”
Stiles snorted. “Don’t hear that very often.” Then, he was back to the papers. At this point, Derek was pretty sure they were just supposed to make him feel like he knew what he was doing, rather than for him to actually reference. “It’s called exposure therapy because you’re supposed to be slowly exposed to whatever makes you freak. Whatever really bugs you, you start small and sort of build up a resistance to it? So, the example like eight of these med journals gave was—”
“Eight?” Derek asked. “You read eight whole articles? How long have you been planning this?”
“Uh, a couple days?” Stiles answered. “And sure, let’s go with eight. Look, I just didn’t wanna screw it up. Again, not a doctor. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing, and I wasn’t about to just throw random stuff at you. Now, what happened to letting me talk?”
Derek raised a hand to encourage Stiles to continue, silently wondering what the fuck he’d gotten himself into. Suddenly, the massive stack of paper made sense, if Stiles had been reading articles from medical journals.
“Anyway, the popular example is spiders. So, say you were terrified of spiders. With exposure therapy, they’d start you off with, like, a picture of a spider. Then, when it stopped freaking you out, you’d watch a video. Then you’d see one from a distance. You see where I’m going? The goal is that you’d eventually be able to actually hold one without panicking.”
“What does that have to do with me? I’m not scared of spiders.”
“No, but you’re kind of scared of touching people. Human people, even more so.”
Derek flinched at hearing it out loud.
Stiles froze. “Sorry.”
Curling his hands into Stiles’ comforter didn’t help much, but it was better than nothing. “It’s fine. Just, get to the point.”
Nodding, Stiles chewed his lip. “Do you even get how important touch is?”
No, Derek didn’t. The importance of touching people never actually came up, living with a bunch of werewolves. It was so ingrained in everything they did, what was there to talk about? It was like breathing. He knew that it was important. That there was such a thing as being touch-starved, like Isaac seemed to be. But they were mostly abstract ideas.
Stiles didn’t seem to expect a response. “I mean, it’s not like I could look up werewolves’ reactions, so I figure it’s probably just the human stuff but even more, right? Everything with you guys is just more. Which would royally suck because for the first few years for humans, it’s literally life or death. Like, babies have to be touched by real people, regularly, or it can mess them up permanently. And even though that’s supposed to fade when we get older, it kind of doesn’t? There’s all this awful stuff that can happen if even adults don’t touch people often enough. We’re talking fatigue, insomnia, depression, anxiety, irritability. It can even cause nightmares.”
He counted them off on his fingers, but Derek only saw it through the corner of his eye as he stared at the corner of Stiles’ desk. The minute Stiles started listing off symptoms, Derek knew he was screwed. Fatigue? Constant. Insomnia and nightmares? Every single night. Depression, anxiety, and irritability? Derek couldn’t even distinguish between them most of the time. It’d all been there after the fire, but since Laura died, everything had just intensified. She’d been the last person Derek actually wanted to touch regardless of his body's reaction.
Not to mention how many of those symptoms matched Isaac’s own issues. Derek was causing some of that.
“And then there’s all the benefits of touch,” Stiles continued, either oblivious to Derek’s realization or demonstrating enough social awareness to just leave him alone about it. “Touching literally makes people happier. Just a quick hug or holding someone’s hand releases oxytocin. Did you know that most of the high people get after sex comes from the post-coital cuddling, not the sex itself? It lowers stress, promotes better sleep, lowers blood pressure, leaves people with more energy, builds trust, and on and on. I read somewhere that couples who’re super close? Yeah, when they hold hands, their heartbeats sometimes sync up. Even their brainwaves. And it’s all about evolution and the vagus nerve or whatever. Basically, we’re such social animals that the need to not be alone is just built in. And I figured, wolves are just as social, so wouldn’t werewolves be? Whole wolf packs just sort of pile on each other, and I know that the Betas are all stupidly cuddly.”
Stiles was horribly, painfully right, and Derek had to close his eyes to beat back memories of curling up with his siblings in the den to watch movies. Everyone so close and comfortable and happy. “Stiles,” he whispered, not opening his eyes. “The point, please.”
There was a few seconds of silence as Stiles’ heart slowed and his scent went from excited to sad. Derek hated it, but at least Stiles wasn’t talking anymore.
“I was thinking that, if you let me, I could help you sort of…desensitize yourself to touch. Maybe make it so you can enjoy it again? So you could be closer to the pack without torturing yourself.”
Slowly, Derek opened his eyes. “Why you? Why not Isaac? I like him better.”
To his surprise, Stiles didn’t look remotely insulted. He just shrugged one shoulder. “I mean, Isaac works. But, I was pretty sure he didn’t know, uh, why you would be doing this. And it’d be kind of hard to explain this to him without explaining that too. Plus, since humans are kind of the hardest thing for you, I thought it’d be easier if you started with a human and sort of got the worst part over with? And, there’s the part where I can’t actually smell your feelings or hear your heartbeat, like Isaac and Jackson can, which means you’d get at least a little privacy in your own head?” Then, his eyes widened. “But we can definitely have Isaac do it, if you want. Like, I’m not saying I wouldn’t help if you wanted it to be Isaac. I’d just tell him what to do.”
In spite of himself, Derek snorted. He shifted back on Stiles’ bed until he could pull one leg up sideways. “I was just asking, Stiles. Calm down. You haven’t actually said what you would be doing to help.”
Stiles squinted at him in confusion. “Uh…touching you?”
Maybe it wasn’t as obvious to Derek as Stiles had been trying to make it. He just sort of froze, and Stiles could actually watch the realization kick in as Derek’s face twitched into a pained grimace.
“Hey,” Stiles said, trying not to sound like he thought Derek was something fragile, even though he definitely did, “remember the part where I said you don’t have to do it? This is all just hypotheticals, dude. Totally optional.”
But Derek was shrinking into himself more by the second.
Desperate to reverse whatever he’d done, Stiles clutched the hours worth of printed out articles that he’d soaked up like a sponge over the last few days. “Okay, I have no idea what’s going on in your head, but I’m just gonna get the rest of this thing out there so you can say no and leave or something. Uh, so, basically it’d be a sort of four part massage-type scale? Like, step one would be a sort of hand massage? It’s pretty non-intimate, and just less awkward all around? Then, whenever you decided you were up for it, two would be your shoulders, three would be your back, and then four would be the hardest because it would have to be you doing the touching.” He paused, then added, “Unless I have it all backwards. Cus’ then we’d have to do the opposite, which I guess works.”
Derek wasn’t really looking at him, so Stiles busied himself with adjusting his papers into a neat pile right at the corner of his desk, then puttered around with his pencils and pens for a bit.
Eventually, Derek muttered, “I thought scales were supposed to go to five?”
A laugh burst out of Stiles before he could hold it back. “You’re seriously judging me for not having enough uncomfortable things to make you do?”
The tension in the room dissipated as Derek chuckled lowly. “You worked everything out, didn’t you? You didn’t even know if I’d say yes.”
“Dude, it’s summer,” Stiles snorted, “I have literally nothing else to do.”
He rubbed at his neck, then adjusted on his seat until he was sitting cross legged and able to curl up a little more. “I can’t even help find Erica and Boyd. So, I figured I’d just get things ready for when they got back. Only, I have no clue how. The only thing I could think of that they wanted while they were here but didn’t have was the whole tactile thing.”
“So, your welcome home gift to them is me?” Derek asked.
“A little bit,” he admitted. “It’s also supposed to be a sort of gift for you, though.”
Derek raised a brow at him. “What’d I do?”
“Uh, you let me into the pack? Permanently? And you haven’t even threatened to beat me up recently, which is gift-worthy all on its own.” Stiles grinned at him. “Positive reinforcement.”
“Don’t think it’s working,” Derek said, straightfaced. “Still wanna rip your throat out with my teeth.”
Stiles held up a finger and hoped he wasn’t going too far. “Ah, but that would require touching me.”
Derek scowled, but it didn’t look like the wounded kind.
“So…” Stiles said, poking at his desk so his chair swiveled.
“What was the first thing on the list?”
This time, Stiles did look down and scan his papers properly to make sure he was getting the order and the description right. The edges of the sheets were getting wrinkled from his clammy hands, but this was a big deal, Stiles was allowed to be a little nervous. “First thing was a hand massage...thing? It’s kind of hard to find a specific treatment plan for touch-aversion, so I had to sort of cobble it together. Hands seem like they’re pretty non-intimate, plus you can pull away if it’s too much or have your arm extended to keep me as far away as possible. It seemed like a good idea? It’s pretty basic, actually. You would just sit there, and I’d massage your hand until you calmed down enough to move on to the next step.”
Again, Derek’s face twisted up into a grimace, but it looked far less emotional and far more disgusted. “So just...sitting there? In silence?”
Rolling his eyes, Stiles tossed the stack onto his desk. “No one said we had to sit in silence. Not that I’m capable of it anyway. We could watch a movie or something, or listen to music, or I don’t know, talk?”
Derek blinked at him. “Gross.”
“Oh, fuck you, Peter Pan,” Stiles scoffed. “I’ll have you know that I’m a delight. Just ask Isaac.”
“Do we have to start now?” Derek asked, snapping back to serious.
Stiles rubbed his still damp hands together and shook his head. “No, not really. Dude, the whole point of this is for it to be something you don’t dread. If you don’t wanna do it today, or this week, or whatever, then we won’t. You have to actually choose to do this.”
He’d taken off his jacket before things were explained, and it left Derek looking weirdly small on Stiles’ bed as he blue screened at just the idea of being in charge of choosing something. By the time he scooted to the edge of the bed and stared down at his hands, Stiles was sure he was just procrastinating giving an answer. “What about you? This is…a lot to ask for. You’re not even a little weirded out?”
Now it was Stiles’ turn to not want to answer, but it was too valid of a question for him to feel like he could brush it off. “If I tell you, you’re not allowed to call me creepy.”
Immediately, Derek’s brow rose.
“Yeah, that probably didn’t help my case,” Stiles sighed. “Nevermind. Look, it’s no big deal, I just kind of love touching people?” Just hearing it out loud, Stiles felt like calling himself creepy. “That sounds wrong. I’m good with my hands? Nope, that’s so much worse. Let’s just say that I’m pretty well suited to how tactile werewolves are, since I’ve been like that pretty much my whole life.”
Stretching his fingers out in front of him, Stiles tried to explain, “You know, I used to give Scott massages, like all the time? Whenever I spent the night or we’d been running around outside long enough for him to get sore. When we hit high school though, he stopped asking. I guess he just decided it was too weird to get a massage from his best friend? But Heather says I have magic hands, and in middle school, Scott begged me more than once to go to school and become a masseuse or something so I could make us both rich.
“Long story short, while I’m not exactly looking forward to basically torturing you with this, the actual massage part isn’t really an issue for me. Like, it’s weird, but it wouldn’t bug me. Besides, you’re not asking, Derek, I’m offering.”
Finally, Derek held his hand out. “Fine.”
But Stiles didn’t move. “You’re sure? We don’t have to start this instant. You don’t even have to—”
Darting forward, Derek grabbed Stiles’ hand and pulled, dragging his wheelie chair over to the side of the bed. The entire time, he was wincing.
Stiles yanked his hand back and jumped to his feet, holding it against his stomach. “Stop! What the fuck are you doing?”
Derek raised an eyebrow, but didn’t respond.
“Okay, ground rules, you don’t get to do that.”
“Do what?”
“Don’t fucking touch me when you don’t want to. Ever,” Stiles scolded. “I’m not going to be a way for you to torture yourself. If you just start making yourself do this, then I’m out. That’s not what this is supposed to be, and it’s already gonna suck enough knowing that I’m actively freaking you out the entire time I’m trying to help. If we’re doing this, you have to swear that you’re not gonna let me keep going past what you’re actually comfortable with. Don’t turn me into some kind of monster on accident.” While he spoke, Stiles shook his hand out and backed up another step. “And for that matter, stop touching me the rest of the time too. Do you know how shitty it feels watching you grab me or try to make me feel better by hurting yourself?”
Though Derek looked vaguely chagrined, he didn’t apologize. “Stiles, there’s literally nothing that I’m going to be comfortable with. That’s the whole point, isn’t it? We have to start somewhere.”
He wasn’t entirely wrong.
Stiles groaned. “Fine, fine! Then maybe there are five steps. Step one; I’m gonna sit next to you.”
Once he’d kicked his chair out of the way, Stiles grabbed his laptop and dropped onto the bed as close to Derek as he dared. Just as he thought, Derek’s spine snapped straight with tension. Just to be mean, Stiles grinned wide. “How’re you feeling?”
It’d been a little while since Derek had actually growled at him with any kind of heat, and Stiles had to force down a shiver of nerves.
“Got it, so once you stop doing that, maybe we’ll do the next thing. In the meantime, since you clearly don’t wanna have a conversation, we have this.” Stiles jiggled his laptop. “I get to pick the show.”
It took the entire first episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer for Derek’s body to relax next to Stiles’, just sitting on the side of the bed with him. As the next episode was starting, Derek rolled his shoulders and stuck his hand out again. Stiles squinted at it.
“Are—”
“You’re making it worse,” Derek interrupted. “Just do it.”
So, Stiles tapped pause on his computer and shuffled backward. “At least move over here. I hate sitting with my legs hanging. And you have to hold this now.”
It was embarrassing, how something so small could tear Derek’s near perfect control to shreds. The minute Stiles took his hand, Derek’s claws grew out. He shifted them back easily enough, but the fact that it’d happened at all was ridiculous. The growling was a lost cause. The eyes came last and were what made Stiles pause.
“Maybe we’re not there yet.”
“Stiles.” Every time they paused or Stiles questioned it, it just made Derek want to leave even more.
Stiles’ eyes widened and he threw one hand out. “Dude, you’re clearly freaking out!”
“I don’t care.”
A finger was shoved in his face. “Fine, I’ll ignore all the very clear warning signs that I should be running the other direction. But that means you have to actually pull away when you need me to stop. If you bite me because you don’t know your own limits, I swear to god—”
“Stiles, shut up. I’ll stop you if I need to.”
Derek rolled his eyes when Stiles squinted at him. “Promise?”
“I promise, Tinkerbell,” Derek sniped.
Glacially slow, Stiles took Derek’s hand again. This time Derek managed to keep from dropping fangs or popping claws, but he still growled. Only once he’d managed to cut it out did he shift Stiles’ laptop onto his lap and press play.
Buffy the Vampire Slayer was, hands down, the most stereotypical thing that Stiles could’ve chosen, but at least it was familiar. Laura had loved watching it after the fire. Sometimes Derek thought it made her feel better about living around so many humans, when for so long it’d just been their pack.
Possibly the most disconcerting thing about the whole experience, besides actually letting someone touch him, was how quiet Stiles became. After muttering under his breath for a minute, he went totally silent. The same eerie focus from the last full moon that he’d had while braiding the tassels of his blanket and looking up possible solutions for Isaac’s anchor, he now directed toward Derek’s hand.
He was giving it all he had, apparently. Massaging slow circles with his thumbs and working his way down Derek’s fingers and up his palm, without going past his wrist. It was horrible.
Not all of it, of course. Except for the blanket he’d given Isaac as per the sheriff’s suggestion, Derek hadn’t gotten a chance to properly scent any of his pack. Grabbing Stiles’ neck the night he’d joined in the first place had lasted all of a few days. The occasional hug only left wisps of his scent on them, and it faded quickly without reinforcement. Living with Erica, Boyd, and Isaac in an enclosed space had done the same, but that was long gone. Isaac, Jackson, and Stiles smelled of each other, but none of them smelled of him. Like they had no Alpha.
So, the fact that Stiles was essentially rubbing Derek’s scent into his skin wasn’t that bad. Even the overall warmth of just being close to someone wasn’t bad.
It was the actual sensation of skin. The sense memory of touch that was so distorted by time and pain that it didn’t take long for the growling to come back, a rumble in Derek’s throat that he couldn’t even find a real source for. He just wanted it to stop.
Stiles didn’t hold on when Derek curled his clawed fingers into his fist and yanked his hand away. In fact, he tucked his own hands under his thighs, far away from Derek. It was only slightly reassuring.
“I take it you need a break or something?” he asked.
Rather than answer, Derek hit the spacebar and pushed the computer onto the mattress so he could stand up. “I have no idea what I’m supposed to tell them about this.”
“Them who? Jackson and Isaac? If you don’t tell them anything, how would they know?”
Derek rolled his eyes. “How do you think, Stiles? My scent is all over your hands.” He gestured at where Stiles’ hands were tucked. “And your blanket.”
But Stiles just scrunched his face up. “Uh, I mean, I get that maybe there’d be some scent stuff, but why would it be so noticeable? Especially since I’m not supposed to see either of them until tomorrow.”
“You’re joking.”
“No, what the hell would I be joking about?”
Just before Derek went to argue, he stopped. His scent was all over Stiles. But Stiles’ scent wasn’t all over him. It was there, definitely, but not all that obvious despite their contact. “Do…” He faded out. How was he supposed to ask that?
It was Stiles’ turn to roll his eyes. “Do what?”
“Don’t laugh,” Derek started, glaring when Stiles immediately brightened. “Do humans not have scent glands on their hands?”
Stiles didn’t laugh, but his eyes did get alarmingly wide. “Do werewolves have scent glands on their hands?”
So, that was a no, then. It wasn’t something wolves talked about, so Derek had just assumed humans didn’t either. He’d always done his best not to interact with them anyway, except for Prue, who acted like such a wolf sometimes it was hard to tell the difference. Still, Peter could’ve mentioned it at some point while Derek was dating a human.
“Oh my god, you do,” Stiles whispered. “That is awesome! Can I see? No, wait, I’ll ask Isaac or something.”
He was clearly excited, so Derek grit his teeth and held his hand out again. “Go ahead.”
If Stiles was going to willingly deal with Derek growling in his face for however long this stupid therapy took, Derek could at least satisfy his ridiculous curiosity.
It was somehow easier when Stiles just grabbed at his hand—his hesitation apparently forgotten in the midst of curiosity—to stare at his palm in the exact wrong spot. Still horribly uncomfortable, but without the tension of expecting and waiting for the touch to come, it wasn’t as bad.
“They’re between my fingers, Stiles,” Derek corrected. “And my toes, if you don’t have those either. No, you can’t see those.” He splayed his fingers though.
Stiles looked there instead, then frowned at him. “I don’t see anything. Are you punking me or something?”
Derek sighed. “Just because you can’t see them doesn’t mean they aren’t there. How do you think we scent each other? How do humans scent each other?”
That, Stiles laughed at. “Dude, are you serious? We don’t. Why do you think Isaac’s so damn uncomfortable with it in public?”
“You don’t…at all?”
“No. Human noses kinda suck compared to yours.”
“Yeah, but you don’t—at all?”
Shaking his head, Stiles continued to examine Derek’s hand. “Nope. Nada. None. Humans don’t—wait is that why Boyd and Erica kept rubbing my arms? Because their hands are like extra smelly?”
“Yes? Stiles—”
“Oh my god, that makes so much sense.”
“Stiles—”
“Like, I knew that they were doing something smell related, but with all the hugs, the handsy-ness just seemed like overkill—”
“Stiles.”
Abruptly, Stiles let go of Derek. “Yeah?”
“I still don’t know what to tell them.”
Stiles deflated back into his sitting position. “Do you even want them to know?”
Derek just looked at him.
Stiles nodded. “Yeah, okay, good point. Well, it’s not like scent is permanent. I can just wash my hands and my blankets. That’ll be good enough, right?”
“I thought this needed to happen often?” Stiles had already spent days doing research for him, almost two hours trying to help fix Derek’s issues, and had promised to keep doing it for the foreseeable future. Why would he also want to worry about keeping the whole thing a secret from the three werewolves he was surrounded by?
Stiles just shrugged. “Yeah, so I’ll wash my stuff often too. It’s no big deal. Here,” he stood up and started pulling on his blanket. “You go wash your hands or something, I assume you know where the bathroom is. I’ll just throw this in right now.” When Derek didn’t move right away, Stiles outright shooed him.
So, Derek shooed. |
He knew the day Ian came back, because Mandy tripped out of her room looking twice as made up as usual. She was obviously making an extra special effort, like doing that would make this guy stay or something. Mickey still hadn't remember anything more than a name, but the colour red kept flitting through his mind like it was burned into the back of his eyelids, he didn't know what that was supposed to mean.
"You planning on flashing the entire neighbourhood?" he asked her as she danced forwards and did a twirl in what he knew was a new mini skirt, "Please go put some trousers on."
"Fuck off, no, I look cute," she said playing with the hem of her skirt.
He rolled his eyes, "Whatever."
"Come pick me up at like two yeah?" she asked, putting more mascara on which he thought was stupid. She scribbled something down on a piece of paper. "There's not enough room to stay over and I don't really wanna get fucking raped walking home or something shit."
"Wouldn't happen if you put some trousers on," he retorted, but took the paper that held and address and promised to be there at two to pick her up. He knew she was probably going to be passed out by then anyway.
It was only seven, so he had seven hours to kill, which he wasn't really looking forwards to. He found that he wasn't good at killing time when he was waiting for something. And why did he feel like he was waiting for the biggest thing of all? He didn't know. . . it was only picking Mandy up from a party. So why was he sort of nervous and sort of excited all at the same time?
He showered, ate, picked up the random clothes dotted around the house that were dirty and put them in the wash. He watched some pointless TV, played videogames, tried and failed to sleep for a few hours. He played with Bert for a little while until the mouse seemed to get bored of him. He read a book, but couldn't concentrate and in the end he just lay staring up at the ceiling with a cigarette trapped between his fingers, burning out and dropping ash onto the floor. He wasn't even smoking it, he just needed something to hold.
The sound of a gunshot screamed through his mind and he jumped involuntarily, even though he knew it was all in his head, he still jumped. His fingers automatically sought out the scar on his thigh, he knew where it was even through his jeans.
"Hey, hey look at me!"
The hands on his thigh seemed to burn more than the wound did, because he could feel that touch somewhere deep inside of himself, like his soul was memorising it.
"You fucking suck!" he screamed at the person who'd shot him, because otherwise he was going to scream the words in his head. His insides were freaking out and not about being shot, but about having a gun still pointed at the only person he gave a shit about who wasn't blood.
He slotted his fingers over those on his thigh, gripped tight, held on like if he didn't, the world was going to drop out from underneath him.
He rubbed his eyes, not knowing how he was supposed to make sense of everything in his head. Sometimes he wasn't sure he wanted to. This wasn't one of these moments. He wanted to remember the guy that his thoughts clung to, he wanted to remember the guy his heart kept trying to provide the knowledge about. He could feel the ache of his feelings deep inside of his chest and that was weird, because he didn't know anything about the guy other than what his fleeting memories provided him with.
Sometimes they seemed too surreal to be memories. But they had to be, didn't they.
"I- I miss you."
No, he couldn't hear that. He couldn't hear that because he didn't know how to deal with that. People didn't miss him, people didn't care about him. He couldn't say it back, his tongue didn't know how to shape those words. He knew they'd taste weird on his tongue, it was like a foreign language. He didn't know how to say stuff like that, he didn't know how to do any of this.
"Say that again and I'll rip your tongue out your head."
He knew how to do that. He knew how to ruin things. He knew how to be a dick. He knew how to pretend.
Sometimes he wanted to go back in time and slap the old him around the back of the head. Sometimes the things he remembered made him feel sick, because he knew the feelings in his chest now had been there then. And with those feelings, he didn't know how anybody could possibly deny anything. Hadn't it been written all over his face? Did the guy know how he felt? How much he cared? Did this guy know that Mickey had only been hiding behind those harsh words?
Did he? Did he? Did he?
He thought probably not.
"Done is done! What do you think we're boyfriend and girlfriend here? You're nothing but a warm mouth to me?"
No, no, no, no, NO!
I don't mean it, you have to know I don't mean it. Make me take it back! Please make me take it back! I swear I don't mean it! Don't look at me like that! Don't cry, please don't cry. Fuck, please don't cry! I didn't mean it, you have to know I didn't mean it.
He didn't know how to take it back, his mouth wouldn't let him. Mickey didn't know how to tell the truth, he didn't know how to put himself out there. He only knew how to lie and how to pretend and how to ruin the only good things that he had ever had.
Mickey punched the wall, wincing at the pain that slithered through his hand. He felt like maybe he deserved that though. The old him was an idiot, a liar, a pretender. Just like him now. He wanted to remember, he wanted to know who that guy was so that he could find him, so he could go and apologise for those words, for that person who had said those things that he didn't mean.
He could feel it like an illness, bubbling up inside of him. It burned, it fucking hurt to think about what he'd said. He couldn't remember why he'd said them, who he'd said them to, but it still hurt. It hurt like nothing else he could imagine. Because this sort of pain couldn't be stitched up, it couldn't be pushed aside, it wouldn't heal.
It definitely wouldn't heal because he couldn't even remember!
Fuck, he'd never wanted to remember so badly in his entire life.
He rolled off the bed and walked into the kitchen, pressing that bag of peas from the freezer against his injured hand, cradling it against his chest. He just sat there, feeling the cold start to set into his hand, make it seize up slightly, but he didn't care in the slightest. He just sat there and hated the old him that he couldn't remember and he hated the new him a little bit as well for no reason at all.
He hated everything.
He hated that he couldn't remember.
He'd never really wanted to remember before. But he wanted to remember now. He felt like it was the least this mystery guy who made his heart clench inside of his chest deserved. Why can I remember Mandy's friend's name, but I can't remember his?
He threw the bag of peas back into the freezer when he saw the clock ticking closer to two a.m. He could be a little bit early, Mandy would probably be too pissed to even really notice the time anyway. He found a kind of grubby looking bandage in the bathroom and wound it around his hand to try and see if that helped the pain a little. He thought maybe it was broken, he didn't know, he didn't care. He couldn't see past the pain in his chest.
Nobody was around as he walked to the address Mandy had given him, the one he'd memorised earlier because he'd been bored and couldn't think of anything else to do. It was weird, his feet seemed to move of their own accord, he didn't even have to think about it. He supposed he'd probably been to this house before. It wasn't far away. It was only a couple of blocks over.
He could hear music coming from inside, could see people moving about through the windows. But he just stood there on the other side of the road, watching like some sort of creepy stalker. He felt like an idiot, but he had a few minutes until he'd told Mandy he'd pick her up and he didn't want to move yet. He didn't know why, but he didn't want to move.
He kept his injured hand cradled against his chest, stamped his feet occasionally to try and ward off the chill that was creeping into his bones. The cold helped the pain in his hand a little though, maybe that was why he was standing there. He knew he was just lying to himself thinking that, but hey, he was good at lying. He was even better at pretending.
When two people came crashing out of the front door, it took him a minute to realise that one of them was his sister. He was sort of proud that she seemed to have the upper hand, punching the blonde girl she landed on top of in the face before the girl probably knew what the hell had hit her. More people came out of the house, watching the fight that was too brutal to really be a cat fight. He didn't know why it amused him, he knew he should be going forwards to help Mandy out or something, but he still didn't move.
"You fucking whore!" Mandy spat – or rather screamed – as the blonde girl slapped her across the face. Mickey didn't know why that amused him, that this girl would slap when his sister punched. But it did.
People were trying to go in and break it up, were trying to drag them apart, but Mandy wasn't having any of it. She hung on to the blonde girl's hair, twisting her head back and making her cry out. Mickey knew his sister was smiling at that sound.
He didn't know when he'd moved, when he'd crossed the road, but nobody noticed him until he stood next to them with the hosepipe in his hands. He saw Lip out of the corner of his eye, saw him smirk and then he twisted the end and aimed the freezing cold jet of water at his sister.
She swore loudly and let go of the other girl instantly, who also squealed in a really girlish way.
"Mickey, what the fuck!" Mandy screamed at him, climbing to her feet and slamming her hands into his chest. He turned off the water and dropped the house pipe, dancing back and laughing because he didn't know what else to do and Mandy did look sort of funny standing there like a drowned rat.
He shrugged, "First thing I thought of."
"You could have just said, stop, you dickhead!" she crossed her arms over her chest and shivered and automatically he shrugged out of his coat and handed it to her. The chill felt pretty good on his throbbing hand anyway.
She didn't say anything as she pulled it on and wrapped it around her tightly.
"At least it sobered you up," he said, smirking a little when she flipped him off.
"Is it two already?" she asked, looking down at her wrist even though she knew full well she never wore a watch.
He nodded, "Yepp."
"Well damn," she muttered and then shivered again and rubbed her arms, "I can't believe you fucking used the hose pipe on me, if I have the flu I'll fucking cut you while you sleep?"
He rolled his eyes, "No, you'll just drive me mad making me look after you."
Which of course he'd do anyway, but that went without saying.
"What the hell happened to your hand?" she asked him suddenly, noticing the way he was keeping it tucked into his side and no doubt spotting the bandage as well, "It was fine when I left!"
He shrugged, "Punched a wall."
"Why?"
He didn't know why he didn't want to tell her the full story, the real answer. Maybe because he didn't even really know the full story himself, he didn't know how to explain it so that it would make sense. So he just said, "Remembered something I didn't want to."
Her face softened instantly and she looked like she wanted to hug him, but she didn't.
"Just let me go get my shoes," she said, "Then we'll go get high."
He snorted, "That's your answer for everything." It wasn't really a bad solution to the problem though. It would at least make him relax for a while and it'd definitely dull the pain in his hand.
She touched his arm briefly as she jogged past him into the house.
He noticed the blonde girl she'd been fighting with had disappeared, he thought that was probably for the best. He fidgeted a little, unnerved about the fact that he was no surrounded by people he didn't know. He only knew Lip and even then, that was barely. He wondered if the old him had known these people.
He tried not to look at them as he stood there, but that made it sort of difficult when Lip started talking to him. He was a little drunk and more than a little high, Mickey could tell. He was sort of jealous actually. "Best way to break up a cat fight, ever, seriously!" he said, grinning at Mickey like an idiot.
Mickey supposed that was probably because of the weed.
"Yeah, whatever," he muttered, scratching the back of his neck with his good hand and wondering how long it was taking Mandy to get some fucking shoes. A tall redhead met his eyes, but he looked away quickly. He didn't want to encourage anyone to talk to him and the guy was pretty fucking hot and Mickey also didn't want to do anything that would give away the fact he wasn't straight.
"Mick!" Mandy shouted from the steps in front of the front door of the house, she had one shoe dangling from her hand, "I lost a shoe!"
He groaned and gave her an exasperated look.
"And what am I supposed to do about that?" he asked, scratching a random itch that appeared on his thigh, right over his scar.
"Carry me."
He glared at her, "Mandy, I think I broke my hand, I can't carry you!"
She rolled her eyes, "Stop being such a pussy."
Knowing better than to argue with her too much, because they both knew that he was going to end up carrying her anyway, he walked over to her and hooked his good arm under her knees, putting his bad one under her back and lifting her up. And fuck it hurt, but he gritted his teeth and she wrapped an arm around the back of his neck to take some of the weight off of him, even though that made it sort of worse because she was strangling him a little bit.
"Love you Mickey," she said, seeming a little drunk again.
He felt her shiver and felt slightly guilty about using the hose on her, but then she was making him carry her home so he thought that evened it out. She was cold and he was in pain, they were even.
"Yeah," he muttered, because he didn't know what else to say and he was having to keep his teeth mashed together because otherwise he thought he might moan in pain.
"Bye Ian," Mandy shouted, waving at someone over his shoulder and Mickey half turned to look at the redhead who was feebly waving back. There was a strange expression on his face that Mickey didn't have the time to decipher.
He didn't know why he felt guilty for the guy's face not really meaning anything to him. Maybe it was because he thought it should have since this guy, Ian was the only thing he'd really remembered. |
Blueberry woke, delightfully sore – and feeling the after effects of yesterday finally had taken its toll on him. Blueberry blinking his big blue eyes at the contented face of his brother – orange drool mixing with the drips of Blueberry’s own fluids, Blueberry flushed and fought the urge to lick it away.
He wrapped the sheet around him and pulled away the warmth as he wobbled out the door and downstairs to get started on breakfast – breakfast tacos to be exact.
Sans had paused in the kitchen doorway, freezing at the sight of Papyrus at the stove and Sans sitting by the kitchen table – rising a hand in greeting to his doppelganger, looking at the others state of dress or, lack of, with a look of surprise.
Blueberry flushed, pulling the sheet tighter around him for modesty sake – face flushed and beginning to stutter.
‘What are you guys doing here?’
‘It is meeting day – didn’t you remember?’ Sans smiled at the other smaller skeleton, who was slowly deepening to the colour of his nickname.
‘Uh…’ Blueberry said dumbly at that.
‘Yes, and we decided to come earlier to assist in the making of breakfast or brunch I suppose is the correct term!’ Papyrus called out, pouring the meat mixture into the steaming pot of yellow pasta noodles.
‘You okay there?’ Sans asked, eyes narrowed, ‘Did we catch you at a bad time?’
‘No’ Blueberry said too quickly and flushed deeper for Sans to believe him.
‘Morning’ Papy drawled out blearily blinking, from behind Blueberry – topless and wearing a pair of low riding sweatpants; he blinked at the two guests in the kitchen. Papyrus stilled his pasta stirring and Sans flushed at the sight of his brothers double – taking some of the uncomfortable attention away from the smaller skeleton.
‘Technically it is afternoon.’ Papyrus tittered, ‘I’m not sure how you and my brother can sleep so much but I’m surprised at you Blueberry.’
Blueberry wondered briefly for how long that had become his official nickname amongst the other timelines. And as for Papyrus’s surprise, Blueberry couldn’t fault the other on that – he was an early riser by nature and usually half way into making breakfast when the others started showing up.
‘Guess he was just tired out.’ Sans grinned at the two standing in the doorway, Papy rubbing a hand at the back of his skull awkwardly – knowing full well that the other had caught on exactly why Blueberry was awake later.
Papyrus was still acting like his usual cinnamon bun self – finding the others state of dress odd but still more focused on his cooking.
‘Um, so how long has this been going on…for.’ Sans then asked quietly so his brother couldn’t hear.
‘Not that long…’ Blueberry whispered back with a flush. Sans smiled at him and went to take another swig of his tomato sauce bottle. Blueberry felt warmth in his heart at the others unspoken approval.
Papyrus stilled, as though recalling something – the spoon covered in sauce flicking against the stove.
‘Oh, by the way – I was wondering if you could tell me how you got Fell and Red to agree to have a sleepover with you? You were all in the same bed together too! Never thought Fell could be so fun honestly. ’ Papyrus smiled at Blueberry and Papy, whom both had the decency to blush and tomato sauce spurting from Sans mouth because he coughed so haggardly and harshly.
‘Oh my goodness! I’ll get you a glass of water brother!’
‘How much did you tell Undertale Papyrus?’ Red lay contently by his brothers’ side, still restrained with silk scarves by the bed posts. Blindfold long since removed.
‘Enough.’ Fell smirked, leaning and licking wet lines on each bone – tracing and tasting.
‘Hm – did you still want to go to the meeting?’ Red sighed, face flushed and aroused by the others ministrations.
‘I honestly forgot it was today.’ Fell hummed, pulling his tongue away and watching the string of magic form between his mouth and Red’s ribs, ‘Do you want to see everyone fall apart at the seams and Undertale Sans try and protect his brothers’ innocence?’
Red knew it would be hilarious, but even more so if the swap brothers had to explain it.
‘We honestly don’t have anything better to do then watch this train derail.’
‘True – but we could play some more.’ Fell growled the last word, nipping and dragging teeth on the others bone.
Red’s breath hitched, as he panted out
‘Yes, that –ugh- would be nice…’
‘And now kiss’ Ink grabbed the blueberry doll and pressed it against Error’s face – unable to pull away or attack the other as he was encased with the others magic. The shock of what was happening made Error loose concentration and the string releases the other. Ink had taken the chance and now was teasing the other, relentlessly.
‘I swear to the void, I will end you!’ Error snapped darkly, but blush at the heated look the other gave him. Error wondered if he ever looked at Ink like that when the other got trapped (on purpose) to rile him up, actually Error didn’t realise It before but it could seriously explain why it seemed so easy to trap the other sometimes.
‘Looking forward to it Error, I really am.’ Ink dropped the doll, becoming uncomfortably closer to the glitch – smirk in place; Error was half expecting the other to hit him or strike him but rather the faint pressure of teeth against teeth made everything become blinding and white.
The other was kissing Error.
Error was a little too stunned to react, but the other opened his mouth revealing a rainbow striped tongue – dripping and slick looking. Error flushed, and eyes were wide and darting between the tongue and Inks satisfied face.
‘C’mon Error, don’t you want to taste the rainbow…?’
Errors curiosity won out and he slowly opened his mouth for it to be plundered greedily.
Huh. Error’s eye lights completely dimmed – it tasted of skittles. The more you know.
‘So this is my life.’ Gaster pondered in the void staring at Ink as it seemed the other was trying to devour Errors face, ‘Trapped forever, witnessing every sexual act of two skeletons I raised with my own bare hands…’ Gaster droned staring at his hands – frowning. Gaster snapped out of it when an unwelcome hand slapped his back.
‘Dawg, it isn’t so bad!’ Fresh laughed, ‘It could be fanfiction – that shits the worst.’
‘Fresh…’ Gaster began lowly.
‘I mean think about it, right now someone is writing about us…’ Fresh whispered to the doctor, grabbing the others arm – which Gaster promptly pushed off.
‘Fresh please…’ Gaster begged, pinching the bridge of his nasal cavity, feeling a migraine coming.
‘They would be writing every sexy scene – even writing what was happening right now.’ Fresh gestured to him and to the aged scientist.
‘Fresh please stop talking…’ Gaster asked again, only to have Fresh turn his back to the goopy scientist.
‘You’re a scientist, Doc G – time to break down some walls!’ Fresh turned back to find the scientist gone.
Gaster has disappeared mid tirade – so the only sound was the sound of Ink and Error going at it. Fresh sat down with a shrug, with nothing else to do he started to watch the action between Error and Ink. Years of sexual frustration coming out to play, Ink pulled away flushed and Error was grasping for air he didn’t need.
‘Hey Error, do you want to taste another rainbow?’ Ink grinned lewdly at the restrained skeleton, Error had pretty much given up trying to escape the others attentions.
‘I’ll give you a hint on what he means; it starts with a “d” and is four words!’ Fresh shouted out, causing the other two to just realise he was there – he nodded at them and saluted them,
‘Glad to be of assistance.’ blinked one eye light out, winking at them, 'In any way...'
If anyone finds Fresh face down in the snow of one of the timelines, he will say it was worth it.
A/N
what just happened? anyway, thanks to all the kudos and comments :) really appreciate it.
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Hope you enjoy. Please Review.
Friend me on FB@ Miste Potter
***HP
"What the hell do you need those for, baby brother?" Merle chuckled when he saw his brother holding a couple bottles of prenatal vitamins. "Your little princess got himself a bun in the oven?"
Ignoring his brother, Daryl opened his backpack and started stuffing it with all the prenatal vitamins that were on the shelf. Food and antibiotics were getting harder and harder to find, but there were plenty of prenatal vitamins left on the shelves.
Merle frowned at his brother. "Is it the little Asian boy, did he knock up the farmer's daughter? Those two have been going at it like bunnies, they're almost as bad as you and your boy."
"You were right the first time." Daryl grunted as his eyes scanned the shelves looking for anything else Harry may need.
"Stop trying to pull my dick," Merle growled in frustration. "Who those pills for?"
Sighing, Daryl turned to face his brother. "The prenatal vitamins are for Harry. I know it's hard to believe, but he's almost two months pregnant."
Merle threw his head back and started laughing obnoxiously. "You never had much of a sense of humor, Daryllina. That boy of yours may take like a good little bitch, but he ain't no bitch."
Shrugging his shoulders, Daryl turned and started making his way up and down the drug store isles. He wasn't sure what Harry was going to need, but he wanted to make sure his mate had everything. Maybe he could find some pregnancy books or parenting magazines, Harry would love those.
Sirius picked up the last can of formula left on the shelf and flipped it around in his hand. "This shit has long expired. Magic may have helped him conceive, but it won't help him produce milk."
Daryl scowled at the can. "I doubt we will find any that hasn't expired, it's been too long. Can your wizarding friends send some baby formula, or possibly even a goat in milk?"
Sirius carelessly tossed the formula back on the shelf. "Remus is going to take the next portkey back with Lizzie to talk with Professor Dumbledore and the medi-witch. Male pregnancies are very delicate and very dangerous, we're going to need all the help we can get."
"Now hold the fuck on!" Merle roared as he got in Sirius' face. "Ain't no man can get pregnant. This joke has gone on long enough, it's time to knock it the fuck off."
Shaking his head, Sirius smirked over at Daryl. "Looks like we have blown Uncle Merle's mind."
"That's about all he's had blown in over a year." Daryl snorted.
"Didn't need to hear that." Sirius gagged.
Merle stormed angrily out of the drug store. "Fuck you all!" He yelled over his shoulder.
Groaning, Daryl pinched the bridge of his nose. "Shit, he's going to go back to the prison and confront Harry."
"Fuck!" Sirius hissed. "Should we head back too?"
Daryl thought for a moment, he didn't want his brother to upset his pregnant mate, but Harry was use to Merle's rough and crude attitude. "Nah, Harry can handle the bastard, and deep down my brother really likes him. He isn't gonna hurt Harry, Merle considers him family now."
Grinning proudly, Sirius inclined his head. "Yeah, Harry can handle himself, my boy is badass. Do you want to hit a few more stores?"
Walking to the dirt coated window, Daryl wiped a spot off with his sleeve then looked up at the sky. "Yeah, we have a few more hours of light left, I want to find Harry and the girls some new clothes."
***HP
Straightening up with a load groan, Harry wiped the sweat from his brows. "Just think how good this corn is going to taste, girls, when it's time to harvest it. Do either of you know how to make popcorn?"
"Mommy always just tossed the bag in the microwave." Mica said as she wiped the dirt from her hands off on her jeans.
Harry was dirty and tired having spent the past two hours working in the garden with the girls, but working in the garden was keeping Lizzie distracted from the walkers and that had been his goal. "I miss microwaves," he sighed wistfully.
Digging out a rock from the ground, Lizzie tossed it over her shoulder as she looked up at Harry. "How come you just don't use magic to do this? It's hot and I'm tired."
"I could use magic, but then you will never learn how to do this if I do. We can no longer drive to the grocery store to buy our food so we have to learn how to provide for ourselves. What if something happened to me, or I lost my magic? You wouldn't know what to do if that happened and then you would starve to death. I also enjoy doing this and it's good exercise."
"I enjoy doing this too?" Mika piped up.
Harry smiled at the little girl whose face was smeared with dirt and sweat. "How about for being such good helpers, I magic hot water so the two of you can take a real bath?" Both girls jumped up and down in excitement. They always tried to keep clean to lessen the chances of getting sick, but it wasn't often that they got to soak in hot water. Normally it was a quick sponge bath before bed.
Harry spun around, his eyes widening when he heard a loud commotion coming from the front gate. "Girls, why don’t you head in and see if Carol has a snack for you?" he ordered when he spotted Merle coming in hot and fast and all by himself. Fearing for his mate and his dad, he took off running to meet Merle.
Harry was half way to Merle when the man jumped off his bike and started storming towards him, his face grim. With his heart pounding in his chest, Harry was getting ready to fire off questions when the man grabbed him by the upper arm and carefully yanked his shirt up, mindful of the fact that he had a knife for a hand.
"Merle, what the hell are you doing?" Harry squeaked as he tried to wiggle away from his mate's brother. He didn't get far though, Merle was a strong bastard and he was doubly strong right now because the full moon was just three days away and his new wolf was lurking at the surface.
Merle stared unblinkingly at the boy's flat stomach. Harry wasn't as skeletal thin as he was when he first met him thanks to all the food the wizards had been sending over, but he was still too skinny as far as he was concerned. Harry wasn't naturally built like him and Daryl though, they were naturally muscular and rugged. Harry could eat and lift weights twenty four hours a day and he would never look like him or Daryl.
Since wiggling wasn't working for him, Harry smacked Merle as hard as he could on his arm. "What the hell, Merle, what are you doing?"
"It's still flat!" Merle proclaimed hotly, still looking at the boy's flat belly. "I'm going to kick my baby brother's ass for playing a prank on me. Sirius too, he had to have put Daryl up to it because my brother doesn't have a fucking sense of humor."
Harry almost fell backwards onto the dirt when Merle unexpectedly released him. Grabbing his shirt, he yanked it down then straightened it out. "Pull a stunt like that again and I'm going to curse you to hell and back. Now again, what the hell was that about?"
Merle roughly ran his hands through his hair. "My brother," he spat, "told me that you were two months pregnant. I can't believe that I even considered it was possible." He felt so fucking stupid for falling for his brother's prank.
Harry face turned a brilliant red. "Merle," he said softly, "Daryl wasn't playing a joke, I am pregnant. I have a lot of magic inside me and wizards as powerful as I am can sometimes get pregnant. It's extremely rare, but it's true."
Harry was having a hard time reading Merle, he was staring at him hard while clenching and unclenching his teeth. His hand, the only one that he had, was in a tight fist at his side. Months ago seeing Merle looking at him like that with a fist at his side would have terrified him, but he wasn't afraid of Merle anymore. Deep down Merle had a huge heart, he just kept it locked protectively behind a massive stone wall that only Daryl was allowed behind. Then again, over the past two months Merle had allowed him a few peeks behind his wall.
Harry let out a surprised, and not very manly scream, when Merle lunged at him, wrapped his beefy arms around him, then picked him up. With a loud whoop of joy, he spun the smaller man in a circle with a big smile on his face.
"I'm going to be an uncle!" Merle proclaimed excitedly, as he continued to spin in circles. "That Dixon sperm is so potent that it was able to knock a man up!"
"Put me down, you big oaf," Harry cried, though he too was grinning from ear to ear. Who would have thought a year ago that Merle, the man that knocked him out and left him for dead, would be hugging him and treating him like family.
Merle did as ordered, but he placed his hand on Harry's stomach, a massive grin on his face. "Old Uncle Merle is going to take good care of you, baby Dixon. I'm going to teach you everything that you will need to know to survive this world. I'm going to teach you how to fight, how to curse, how to kill the walkers, how to pick up the ladies, and how to hunt and fish. Uncle Merle is also going to protect you, ain't nobody going to hurt my nephew."
"Nephew?" Harry giggled happily. "What if the baby is a girl?"
"I'd love a niece too, but Dixon men have boys, big, strong boys."
Harry was relieved that Merle was happy about the baby, he had been worried about his reaction. Merle was unpredictable and his reactions so extreme that him finding out could have ended ugly. Daryl had grown closer to his brother over the past two months, it would have killed him if him being pregnant would have changed that.
With another whoop of joy, Merle picked Harry up again and spun him in another circle. "I'm so glad I didn't kill you that day I dropped you with just one punch."
Harry knew that that was the closest to an apology he was ever going to get from Merle, but he'd take it. "It was two punches, not one, you savage."
***HP
Moaning, Harry tried to wiggle away from Daryl's wandering hands. "M'tired, it's too early."
"Tonight's the full moon," Daryl grunted as he dipped his hand into his mate's boxers. "You know how I get before the full moon."
"Before," Harry groaned, "you started last night. I think you broke my dick that last round."
Smirking, Daryl started wiggling down Harry's body. "I guess I'll just have to kiss it and make it feel better."
"Fuck!" Harry cried when his mate wrapped his lips around his dick and gave a harsh suck. "I'm not going to survive today, am I?" he whined pathetically.
***HP
Harry skidded around the corner, slamming into Glenn and knocking them both down. "Ow, that's going to leave a mark," he moaned as he rubbed at his forehead.
Glenn, who only had the wind knocked out of him, was quick to get back onto his feet. "You alright, Harry," he asked in concern as he held a hand out to help him up.
"Yeah," Harry said with a shake of his head as he took Glenn's hand. "Was totally my fault for not paying attention."
"What has you in such a hurry?"
Blushing, Harry scratched the back of his neck. "Uhm, well, I'm actually hiding from Daryl."
Glenn frowned. "Is this some kind of full moon day training exercise? Does he have to track you down using just your scent?"
Harry grinned sheepishly. "It's more like I'm all sexed out and hiding from my mate."
Glenn's jaw dropped in disbelief. "Is there such a thing as all sexed out?"
"Daryl is a beast." Harry hissed as he peeked back around the corner. "Do you want to know how many orgasms I have had today?"
"Eh, I'm good," Glenn quickly answered. "Hey, if Daryl has you to help him with his full moon sexathon, and your dads have each other, who is helping Merle out?"
Harry's face lit up with a wicked grin. "Sirius told me that Merle raided a sex shop and came out with two duffel bags full of sex toys. He then asked my dad to ward his cell so it would be soundproof."
Glenn stuck his fingers in his ears, his face scrunched up in disgust. "Why did I ask? The images in my head!"
Harry bent over laughing. "I do feel a bit bad for him going through this alone."
"Yeah, I'm really sorry that I asked about Merle. Subject change, does Daryl's wolf have a name yet?"
Harry cringed, for the past month he had been wracking his brain trying to come up with the perfect name for Daryl's wolf, but so far nothing he has come up with has sounded right. "I haven't been able to come up with a name, but I have to before the change. It's hard though to think with Daryl constantly begging for sex."
"Guess you can always go with Horn Dog." Glenn chuckled.
"Speaking of horn dog!" Harry shrieked as Daryl came storming around the corner, shirtless.
"Hiding from me, are you?" Daryl growled deeply.
"What?" Harry cried in outrage. "I would never do that. I just came out for some fresh air and ran into Glenn."
"Literally!" Glenn smirked.
Daryl lunged for his mate, easily capturing him in his arms as he buried his face in his neck. He just couldn't get enough of his mate's scent, both him and his wolf were addicted to it.
Tilting his head back, Harry groaned when he felt Daryl's erection pushing against his stomach. Looking to Glenn, he gave his friend a wink. "Unless you want to see a show, you better leave Glenn."
"Go!" Daryl growled feraly, his eyes glowing. Ain't no one was allowed to see his little mate naked besides him.
Not needing to be told twice, Glenn bolted away, his face red.
With his neck still buried in his mate's neck, Daryl pushed him against the wall. "Need you," he growled.
Moaning, Harry threw his head back then wrapped his legs around Daryl's waist. He was exhausted and sore, but he couldn't deny his mate. "Are you going to take me right here against the and out in the open?"
Daryl started fumbling with both his and his mate's jeans. "Don't worry, I won't last long. Just your scent has me close to blowing in my jeans."
Harry bit into Daryl's shoulder when he entered him in just one thrust. They had had sex so much since the night before that he hadn't needed any prepping.
Daryl's wolf was so close to the surface that when he came just a minute later, he threw his head back and howled. Panting, he rested his forehead against the wall next to his mate's head. "I'm sorry," he apologized softly. "It's just, you drive my wolf crazy."
Harry hadn't had an orgasm that time, but that was okay, he was orgasmed out. "Is that a good thing, or a bad thing?"
Daryl chuckled. "It's good, but I feel bad for taking you again. You have to be hurting by now."
Harry was sore, and the fact that Daryl was still inside of him wasn't helping, but that was okay, he wanted to be able to help his mate. The first few rounds he had enjoyed himself thoroughly, and he was still enjoying himself despite not having an orgasm, there was just a little more pain with the pleasure now.
Daryl carefully eased himself out of his mate then pulled up both their jeans. "I promise I won't bug you anymore today."
Harry smiled tiredly up at his mate. "Daryl, you're not bugging me, though I may sleep for the next week straight."
Dropping to his knees, Daryl placed his ear over Harry lower belly. "Do you think I will be able to hear him or her in a few weeks?"
Smiling softly down at Daryl's head, Harry started running his fingers through his hair. He loved this, he loved it when Daryl worshiped his tummy and their growing child. He wondered if his dad use to do this with his mom and him? "I don't know if you will be able to hear with your werewolf hearing, but there are spells that Remus can perform."
"Shit, sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt, uhm, anything."
Harry face turned a bright red. "It's not what you think, Rick. Daryl isn't giving me..."
"At least not this time," Daryl snorted as he got to his feet.
Harry started laughing when he saw the look of disbelief on Rick's face. "Honestly, Rick, Daryl is an insatiable sex fiend before the full moon, but there was nothing sexual about that."
"I was just bonding with my pup," Daryl grunted as he placed his hand back on his mate's belly.
Ricks eyes widened and his mouth dropped open in shock. "By pup, you mean?"
"Baby!" Harry blurted out. "I'm almost two months pregnant."
Rick's mouth was moving but no sound was coming out. Finally, after a couple of minutes, he choked out, "but I thought you were a male?"
"I am, but I'm also a wizard," Harry reminded. "And an exceptionally powerful one at that. Male pregnancies don't happen often, but I have always had the knack of doing the impossible."
"Does that mean you're taking the next portkey home?" Rick asked in concern. He wanted Harry safe, but at the same time he needed Daryl and the wizards. He couldn't run this place and keep everyone safe and fed without them.
"No," Harry quickly reassured. "Even if I wanted to, which I don't because I want to see everyone else safe first, especially Lizzie and Mika, I couldn't because portkeying while pregnant can kill the baby, and possibly even me. This does mean though that I won't be able to make a portkey until after the baby is born."
"Shit!" Rick cursed. "Don't get me wrong," he quickly said not wanting to upset Harry, "I'm happy for you and Daryl, but this does complicate things."
"I know," Harry grimaced, "and I'm very sorry. Honestly, this baby shouldn't be possible. Daryl has no magic, he shouldn't have been able to get me pregnant. I know you're anxious to see Carl and Judith, so after Mika and Lizzie go, you should take the next portkey."
Rick shook his head. "I'll leave after everyone else. I miss my kids, but I can't leave the rest of you behind. I know Carl and Judith are safe with Hershel and Beth and I can write them letters. Don't worry about anything, Harry, we'll figure everything out."
Feeling like a huge weight had been lifted off his chest, Harry lunged forward and hugged Rick. He knew that Rick wouldn't be mad over the baby, but he had been worried that he would have been upset over having to wait to be reunited with his kids. "Thanks for understanding, and please don’t tell anyone else yet.”
Rick awkwardly patted the kid's back. "It's going to be okay, Harry, and congratulations on the little one."
With his wolf so close to the surface, Daryl didn't like seeing his mate in the arms of another male. He liked and trusted Rick, Rick was a brother to him, but right now his wolf was overly protective of their pregnant mate. With a small snarl, he grabbed Harry and pulled him back to his chest. "Mine," he whispered in Harry's ear.
"Always," Harry reassured, grinning up at his mate.
***HP
Everyone, with the exception and Carol, Mika, and Lizzie, were once again gathered by prison gaits waiting for the full moon. Tonight, Harry didn't have to worry about getting hurt or even leaving the protection of the prison gates, no one new was getting bitten. Daryl would be experiencing his second transformation, while Merle would be experiencing his first. Everyone could tell that Merle was anxious and nervous over his first transformation, but the tough bastard was doing a good job at hiding just how nervous he was.
"Try not to swallow your tongue, sugar tits, when you get an eyeful of all this this after I strip out of my clothes," Merle said huskily to Sasha as he ran his hands down his body,
Snorting, Sasha rolled her eyes. "I think I'll be able to control myself."
Harry smacked Merle on the shoulder. "Don't be crude."
"Hey, she's the one waiting to watch four men strip down naked," Merle defended with a smirk.
Grinning, Harry looked back at Sasha. "He does have a point."
Sasha shrugged her shoulders, her eyes sparkling mischievously. "Hey, would you miss out on the chance to see Daryl naked? Not to mention, Sirius and Remus may be your dads, but holy hell are they hot."
Harry threw his head back laughing. "I can't even get upset at you for wanting to see my mate naked, he is absolutely glorious to look at."
Sasha nodded her head. "You are very lucky, Harry."
Harry looked to where his mate was standing with his dad talking to him. Daryl had already removed his shirt and boots and was only wearing a pair of jeans that hugged his ass perfectly. He should be jealous that Sasha wanted to see his mate naked, but he knew that Daryl would never cheat on him or leave him.
“So, does my brother’s pussy of a wolf have a name?” Merle snickered as he unbuckled the knife he used as a hand from his arm. He didn’t think it would be wise turning into a wolf with a sharp knife strapped to his arm.
Merle’s question had all eyes turning towards Harry. Blushing, Harry awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. He had hoped to tell his mate his wolf’s name in private, but every time they had been alone earlier Daryl had only been able to think about sex. “I...yeah, I named his wolf. But if he doesn’t like it Daryl can change it,” he quickly added. “I’m not really good at coming up with names.”
Daryl could feel his wolf perk up, he was interested in finding out what his name was. “I can already tell that my wolf is going to like and keep whatever you name him. He’s very anxious to find out what it is.”
“I think you should name him Nancy or Sissy Boy,” Merle howled.
Shaking his head, Harry gave Merle the finger. “Shut up, or else I’ll name your wolf Gimp.”
Still laughing, Merle waved the arm in the air that was missing a hand. “Ah, Princess, you wound, old Merle. I know you love me and you will give my wolf a good name.”
“How about Lefty?” Glenn joked. “Since all he had to help him out today was his left hand.”
“How about I show you what this left hand can do?” Merle snarled, making a fist.
Glaring at Merle, Glenn rubbed his now bruise free jaw. “I believe you already showed me what your left fist can do...while I was tied up and helpless.”
Rick got between Glenn and Merle. Glenn was handling being around the man that almost beat him to death and then stood back and did nothing while the governor almost raped Maggie, but it was plain to see that Glenn was still harboring a lot of ill feelings towards Merle. “Alright, lets just all calm down. It’s almost the full moon and Harry was getting ready to tell us Daryl’s wolf’s name.”
“Jeez, no pressure,” Harry grumbled.
“It doesn’t matter what his name is, it won’t be as cool as mine,” Sirius bragged.
“Yeah, Slayer is real cool,” Harry snorted.
Sirius wagged his eyebrows up and down. “Moony loves it.”
With a deep sigh, Harry looked to the sky. Time was running out and he really wanted to give Daryl’s wolf his name before he changed. “Coming up with a name for you was so hard,” he admitted to Daryl. “I ran through all the obvious names that reflected who you are, you’re a hunter, a tracker, a fighter, a survivor, you’re loyal, you’re amazing with the crossbow, you’re protective of those you care about, there’s so much to you, but at the same time you’re a simple, humble man. I knew that neither you nor your wolf would like a fancy name with a deep meaning, that’s just not who you are. I then thought about how you took the bite for me because you wanted to protect me and you didn’t want me to suffer through painful monthly transformations. Dad named his wolf Slayer because during the full moons he slays the walkers, and now you will be doing the same thing.”
“The first thing that came to my mind when thinking about you, Merle, and my dads out taking down the walkers and claiming their souls in the dead of the night, was the Wild Hunt. It was said that Odin led the Wild Hunt so I thought about naming your wolf Odin, but the name just didn’t feel right. If given the choice I know that you wouldn’t want to be a god.”
“So then I started thinking about other myths or beings that were said to collect the souls of the dead.”
“The Grim Reaper,” Michonne muttered.
Harry nodded his head. “I started thinking about angels and death and the different cultures around the world and their beliefs. My favorite name was Azrail, the Angel of Death. Azrail was supposedly an archangel of the Islamic faith and it was his job was to take the souls of the deceased. As much as I liked the name, Azrail, it still just didn’t fit you.”
“Daryl, I love you, but you are a simple man who doesn’t require riches and fancy things to make you happy. I know any kind of fancy name will make you uncomfortable, so I have decided to simply name your wolf Reaper.”
Sirius started pouting. “That’s a really cool name, why didn’t I think of that?”
“I like it,” Glenn grinned. “Big bad Reaper out there reaping the walking dead.”
“A name fit for a marauder,” Remus said proudly. Daryl may not be the type to play pranks and make mischief, but he was now part of his pack so that made him a marauder.
“It’s a good name, fits him,” Michonne smirked.
“My baby brother is one lucky man,” Merle grunted. “You put a lot of time and energy into naming his wolf...not to mention an incredibly long winded speech.”
Harry started wringing his hands nervously when Daryl continued to just stand there silently staring at him. “It’s Alright if you don’t like the name, Daryl. It won’t hurt my feelings if you want to change it.”
Growling, Daryl gabbed his mate by the back of the head and pulled him in for a brutal and possessive kiss. “I think that means he likes it,” Maggie said with a blush.
The kiss was hard, painful, and was probably going to bruise his lips, but to Harry it was the best kiss ever. Panting when Daryl pulled back, Harry looked up at him with a shy grin. “So, I take it you liked the name Reaper?”
Daryl wanted to toss his mate over his shoulder then storm off somewhere private where he could personally show him just how much he liked his name, but he could already feel the moon calling him. “Reaper is perfect, my wolf, the cocky bastard, is strutting in the back of my mind like a puffed up peacock.”
Daryl went to kiss his mate again, but someone grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him back. “We need to get outside the gaits,” Sirius said as he looked to the night sky. “It’s almost time.”
“Have fun!” Harry called as the werewolves exited the warded prison gates. “Kill lots of walkers.”
Merle turned and winked at Harry. “Don’t worry, baby cakes, I’ll bring you back a head.”
Harry scrunched his face up in disgust. “Thanks, but I’ll pass. Try not to piss off Moony, I’m sure you would like to live to see morning.”
Glenn stepped up next to Harry. “How many walkers do you think the four of them can take out in a single night?”
Harry whistled loudly. “Hundreds, especially with how competitive the four of them are, but I don’t think they will wander too far from the prison. They may want to kill walkers, but their desire to protect their pack will override their desire to kill.”
Harry laced his fingers through the chain link fence, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth. This was the worst part, he hated watching the change. Watching bones break and reshape themselves was not only was sickening to watch, but it also sounded horrible. Daryl never complained though about the pain last month, but at the time he had more worried about him. He wondered if Merle was going to be as tough as Daryl.
“Huh, I’m actually impressed,” Sasha giggled. “I didn’t know that Merle looked like that under his clothes.”
Harry, who had only had eyes for his naked mate, looked to see what Sasha was talking about. Remus and Merle were standing farther away from his dad and Daryl, Remus was giving Merle a last minute pep talk and instructions. Like with Daryl and his dads, Merle was naked awaiting the change. “Damn, I mean, I knew Merle was strong, he did knock me out cold with just two punches, but he’s definitely more ripped than what I was expecting. Still, he ain’t got nothing on my man.”
“We need some female werewolves,” Glenn joked as he winked at Maggie.
Harry tensed when all four men stiffened at the same time, their face creased with pain. “It’s time,” he said breathlessly.
“I don’t like this part,” Michonne grimaced.
Harry watched with his heart in his throat as the three men he loved the most in the world, and another he was coming to love, dropped to their hands and knees as the excruciating shift overtook them. Remus and Sirius were groaning and crying out in pain, while Daryl and Merle clenched their teeth and silently suffered as they transformed from man, to beast. Harry sadly wondered if their ability to silently endure the shift was due to the fact that they had been abused by their father. He remembered himself being stubborn and refusing to give Vernon that satisfaction of hearing him crying while beating on him.
Harry about launched out of his skin as a hand came down on his shoulder. “Easy, Harry,” Rick said gently. “Are you alright, you’re crying?”
Bringing his hand up to his eyes, Harry was surprised to find that he was indeed crying. “No, I’m fine, I just got lost in my thoughts.” Focusing back on his family, he smiled softly when he saw that Merle’s wolf was a solid silver color. Merle wasn’t as tall or as built as Reaper, or even his dads, but he was still impressive and terrifying. Not even the lack of a front paw could take away how deadly the wolf looked.
Harry was just getting ready to head back inside so he could get some rest knowing that come morning he would have four exhausted and sore men to see to, when Reaper broke away from the other wolves and bolted straight towards him.
Harry wasn’t scared this time, he knew that Reaper wouldn’t hurt him. Dropping to his knees, he smiled as the wolf came to a stop on the other side of the fence as him. Even though Rick was warning him not to, Harry stuck his hand through the fence.
“Hello, Reaper,” Harry said softly when the giant wolf nuzzled his hand. “Be careful tonight, look after my dads, and don’t let your brother do anything stupid.” Cocking his head to the side, Reaper woofed before licking Harry’s hand then taking off back towards the other three wolves then disappearing in the woods.
“You are one crazy little shit,” Glenn said shakily.
Getting back to his feet, Harry bumped his shoulder against the Asian’s. “I had a teacher at school that said that the only reason I was still alive was because of my sheer dumb luck. She was probably right, but I know that Reaper won’t hurt me, I’m his mate.”
Harry stopped right outside the entrance to the prison, he could hear the excited yips and howls coming from his family, as well as the growls and snarls of them taking down walkers. A part of him wished that he could be out there with them, but a bigger part of him was relieved that he wouldn’t have to suffer painful monthly transformations.
Saying a silent prayer that his wolves would be safe through the night, Harry entered the prison then made his way to the cell he shared with his mate. It would be a lonely night sleeping without Daryl, but at least he had their child growing safely inside of him to keep him company. |
Chapter VIII – The Beggining
It was already well over midnight and Oliver shadowed Felicity as she explained to the police how she’d got into and out of the Dollmaker mess. According to her story, Oliver had dropped her off at her apartment after they left the party and then she decided to go out for some last minute gift shopping –a friend of hers really liked that Mermaiden cream- That’s when the Dollmaker had taken her and then 'that Arrow character and the woman with the sticks and the leather jacket' had come out of nowhere and rescued her just in time.
Oliver fought to maintain his poker face as Felicity dug herself all the way to her neck in perjury. She made sure the Arrow’s no-killing agenda remained intact by explaining that the reason there was a shaft stuck in the Dollmaker’s heart was because he’d attacked the vigilante and the woman in black stopped Mathis before he could kill the Arrow. Oliver made a note to ask Diggle what really happened there, but for now he just stayed by Felicity’s side and waited for the interrogation to be over.
Officers were coming in and out the front door and the cool December breeze made Felicity shiver. She tried to fight the wind off by hugging herself but Oliver was quick to place his own gray hoodie over her shoulders. She gave him a small smile and the air around her filled with Oliver’s masculine scent as she wrapped herself in the warm fabric. The feeling of being surrounded by Oliver was something she knew would come back to haunt her in some afternoon day dreaming later on.
When the officers decided they had enough information from both Oliver and Felicity, she turned to him and announced she was going home. Oliver took in the way she looked then. She had exhaustion written all over her face. Her hair was sticking out in funny places and the bruises around her lips were starting to darken. He noticed she kept squinting her left eye which meant the head injury was still bothering her.
“You’re going to the hospital,” Oliver sentenced. “We need to get you checked out.”
Felicity was too tired for this.
“What I need is to take a shower, get in my own bed, and forget this ever happened. You can lose the 'fear of God' look, Oliver. If you’re really that worried I can let Diggle take a look at the head thing tonight and then tomorrow I’ll go to the doctor, ok?”
“Felicity-”
“No, Oliver. I really just want to go home.”
Just when she thought she might have a chance at winning this discussion, Mrs. Queen dispatched some detectives she was talking to and moved in to join their conversation.
“Oliver is right, sweetheart; you should get checked tonight.”
“Mrs. Queen- Moira,” she corrected at the woman’s warning look, “it’s fine, really, I’m ok. See?” She took a deep breath and tried to smile away the throbbing pain in her head. “No need for doctors here.”
Moira sighed, counting her losses, and turned to Oliver instead.
“Get some sense into this girl, Oliver. She’s not spending the night alone without getting checked by a doctor first.” And with that she sentenced the matter settled and went back to the officers who kept flooding into her house.
“I’m not staying here again, Oliver,” Felicity warned him with a look of determination.
“Then I’m staying with you.”
“What? No-no…” Ouch! No head shaking, you idiot… The headache was really getting out of control. Think of something! “I don’t have a guest room,” she said. Nice… nice and dumb, good job, Felicity. She wanted to roll her eyes at herself.
“Felicity, I’m not going there to sleep; I’m making sure you stay awake. That right there could be a concussion,” he said eyeing the bandages on her head.
“Not even you could keep me up tonight, Oliver.” It only took her a few seconds to realize what she’d just said; enough for Oliver to fight the smile out of his face.
“I’m going,” he said simply and before she could protest, Oliver was going up the stairs to gather an overnight bag. He passed Diggle on his way up and asked him to keep an eye on Felicity for him.
The former soldier strolled over to his tired blonde friend who welcomed him with a battered smile.
“I know I said this already but thank you,” she told Diggle.
“Hey, don’t mention it. It’s what we do, right? Get each other out of crazy messes.” Diggle took the chance to clear the air. “You know why he had to stay, right?”
Felicity nodded, the smile now gone from her face. “I know.”
“Then you also know it took a lot of manpower –and a bit of womanpower too- to keep him from going.”
Now she chuckled a little, wincing as the pounding in her head started again. “It wouldn’t be Oliver if you didn’t have to fight him on it.”
Diggle knew there was still more to be said, but that would have to be between her and Oliver. Still, he felt better knowing he’d done his part as the mutual friend.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather see a doctor, Felicity?”
“Diggle, I’m fine,” she said for what felt like the hundredth time. “Oliver will take me home and then I’ll send him right back.”
“Right, good luck with that. Speaking of Oliver, I didn’t know you two had moved on to public kissing now.”
Felicity had almost forgotten about the kiss.
“That… um… that was just…”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Diggle took a deep breath and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Listen, you know I love you and I’d take a bullet for him but you have to be careful, Felicity. He may not see it but you do. And I’m not saying it wouldn’t be a good thing. I’m just saying you better know what you’re doing. Doing what we do… it can get complicated.”
“I know,” she said. Was it really that obvious? Did it get to the point where her feelings for Oliver were no longer platonic at all? Had she gone too far? Suddenly it was terrifying; her heart might be beyond the point of no return, with no way of reeling it in now. So much for not getting hurt.
Just then Oliver came down the stairs carrying a small black leather bag over his shoulder.
“All set?” he asked as he joined them and Diggle adopted his usual bodyguard stance, hands held together in front of him while his chest stuck out.
“All set,” he replied. “I’m staying here with your mother until the police clears out.”
“Thanks. Felicity and I will stop by the hospital tomorrow morning and then meet at QC unless something else comes up.” Diggle gave him the ´Roger that´ and turned to leave, but Oliver caught him by the arm. “Tell Sara I said thank you,” he asked in a low voice.
“Sure thing, man.” Diggle hugged Felicity goodbye and went to stand near Moira, keeping a hawk eye on the entrances around them.
Oliver led Felicity to the front door but before stepping out of the mansion he stopped her to pull up the gray hood covering her face.
“Stay down,” he said and tucked her under his arm, venturing outside.
Right away Felicity understood the need for the hood. There was a sea of flashes coming at them from outside the gates, bright lights everywhere. The media was there. Felicity was a bit disoriented and the sirens and red and blue signals coming from the police squad cars weren’t helping at all. A couple of officers flanked them on both sides and escorted them to the car. Oliver helped her get into the passenger seat before going around to take his seat behind the wheel. When they finally made it outside the Queen’s gate and into the steady traffic of Starling City, Felicity let out a sigh of relief and rested her pounding head back on the headrest.
“This is worse than that time I let my roommate convince me he knew how to make eggnog,” she said, eyes closed into the darkness. “He didn’t.”
“We really should get you checked out, Felicity.” Oliver’s tone was commanding, as usual, but also a little tinged with worry. She turned around to look at him.
“Hey, you don’t get to lecture me on going to the doctor, Mr. ‘I’m Bleeding Out But Please Take Me To The Foundry’. They never really got that stain off from the backseat, you know? I still can’t go to that carwash place. I really liked that place...”
It had started to rain and the sound of it falling on top of the car helped Oliver hide any sign of amusement. Felicity thought she heard him say something and turned to look at him. He was staring at the road and she took a moment to study his profile. The shadows danced around on his face as the raindrops kept rolling down the windshield.
“So, Sara Lance, huh?” she said suddenly.
The subject change threw him off and he frowned.
“Laurel’s sister?” she continued slowly, “the detective’s other daughter, the one you took on the Gambit with you even though you were dating Laurel at the time which we never talk about but I-”
“Felicity.” Oliver’s fingers left little dents on the leather covering the steering wheel.
“I’m sorry, it’s just… Diggle told me you lied, that she didn’t drown when the Gambit went down. Why? Why would you do that, Oliver? Laurel, Mr. Lance, they both blame you.”
“And they should.”
“No, they shouldn’t. But they deserve to know. What happened out there?”
“Felicity, not right now.”
“Right, you mean not ever.” She knew him all too well. It was like trying to draw water from an old dry well. Felicity turned her attention to the tapping sound of the raindrops falling over the car. A tense silence settled between them.
“I’m sorry,” Oliver offered.
“You don’t have to tell me anything. I just think you should tell them.”
“No, I meant about today. I should have been there, Felicity. I said I would protect you, I haven’t forgotten that.”
She took a moment in silence. She didn’t know how she actually felt about that.
“Oliver, you can’t be everywhere all the time,” she said finally.
“I should have been there. He had you and he was going to hurt you…” Oliver seemed to be having a conversation with himself for those two seconds that ticked by. “Staying behind... I made the wrong choice.”
The resolve in Oliver’s voice shook Felicity up a little. He was a scary man but somehow he always managed to make Felicity feel safe. It was probably why it hurt so much when the minutes passed and he wasn’t there to rescue her. She needed to stop depending on him like that, especially now that her heart was getting dangerously tangled up on it.
“Oliver-”
“When I brought you into this,” he told her, “it was because I thought I could protect you. I can’t have you risking yourself like that.”
“I know that’s like your thing but you don’t get to take the blame for this, Oliver. Yes, you brought me into this but I decided to stay on my own. My safety is not your responsibility.”
Oliver didn’t know what he should answer to that, or if there was even a point in trying to argue with her. Of course she was his responsibility. No matter what she said, he was the one who brought her into his mess of a life. He got into her orbit, not the other way around. From the day he set foot in the IT Department, Oliver was pulling her in and he knew it. He knew just how smart she was, he knew she would figure it out. And yet he kept going to her… Why?
He kept giving her reasons to be in his world. At what point exactly did he decide it was acceptable to risk her life –and his secret- for the chance to be honest with someone? No, not someone, her. Diggle was already there, a partner if that’s what he needed. He had brought Felicity in because he wanted to be honest with her. And today that had almost cost her life.
Luckily for him he didn’t have to share his thoughts with her in that moment. They were already pulling up to the small residential area where Felicity’s apartment was.
They walked to the door and just before opening it Felicity turned to face Oliver.
“Is this really necessary?” she complained.
Oliver took the keys from her and let himself in.
“Whoa, hey –Wait!” She went in after him and moved quickly trying to block Oliver’s view of the apartment with her body, which was pointless of course because he towered over her. “I’m sorry about the mess; it’s not always like this but… Actually, you know what?” she said straightening up, “I shouldn’t even be apologizing. You’re the one who invited yourself to my house without asking me so there, mess is what you get.”
Oliver looked down at her. “Does that mean I can turn on the lights now?”
They’d been standing in the dark, the only light coming in through the open front door. He had that little tilted-head stance that he took sometimes when she was being particularly babbly. Felicity realized she’d been kind of staring at him so she went around him to get the lights and close the door.
“As I was saying, I’m usually a lot tidier but this is just what happens when you find out you’re supposed to attend a fundraiser just two hours before it starts.”
She took off Oliver’s hoodie and draped it on the back of her big couch.
“You’re not going to let that go, are you?”
“Nope.”
Felicity held on to Oliver’s arm for balance and took off one of her heels and then the other. She started walking towards her room and called back at Oliver without turning to look at him. “You better not be standing there with that bag still on your shoulder,” she said as she disappeared into her bedroom.
Oliver looked around him for a place to set the bag down and decided on a small purple futon in front of the big window that faced the street. The window filled almost the entire living room wall, making Oliver uneasy. From a strategic point of view he knew it made the ground-level apartment vulnerable. Out of habit he peeked out the window to survey the street. The city outside was quiet and peaceful.
Just then Felicity returned from her bedroom. She was still in her long red dress and one side of her skirt was hoisted up in her fist so she wouldn’t trip now that she had no shoes on. Her makeup and jewelry were also gone. The little barefoot Felicity made her way over to Oliver.
“I feel all kidnappy so I'm gonna go take a shower now. Make yourself at home,” she offered casually. Felicity had barely taken two steps when she turned back to look at him. “Just… no shirtlessness, ok?”
Oliver couldn’t have answered her even if he wanted to.
“No need to make this any more awkward than it already is,” she mumbled on her way to the bathroom.
The water started running in Felicity’s shower and Oliver decided to take a look around. The apartment looked a lot like her, colourful and kind of mismatching. The Robin Hood poster hanging over the TV caught his attention and he allowed himself to smile. A few plants here and there and some seriously eclectic taste on tiny sculptures were set right beneath the poster. Oliver reached down to grab a toy robot from the low TV table and smiled. This girl…
He put the robot back and noticed a pair of small, baby blue weights next to it. He really should get more involved in Felicity’s physical training. Oliver knew Diggle had been teaching her some basic self defense moves and helping her get some muscle in those keyboard-punching arms of hers, but now he couldn’t help but wonder if this whole incident could have been avoided if he had dedicated more time to personally train Felicity.
He set the weights back down and moved on to the bookcase separating Felicity’s kitchen from her living room. He was browsing the titles when she came back from the bathroom wearing pajamas and drying the tips of her hair with a towel.
“I wish I could wash the whole thing,” she said referring to her hair. “Is 'psychopath smell' a real thing or am I being crazy?”
Oliver didn't answer that either. He rarely did. He just took a deep breath and looked at her half chastising, half amused. Felicity wasn't fazed.
"Want some tea?" she asked, moving into the kitchen.
"Why not," he said, leaning against the side of the bookcase, arms crossed in front of his chest. Felicity set to get the tea ready, turning her back to him, and he watched her reach up to the highest cabinet to get the tea bags.
It occurred to him that he should probably go help her instead of just standing there staring and noticing the way her pajamas outlined her figure from behind. He really should, but he didn't. Felicity finally got the bags she wanted and continued with her tea making ritual.
"You need to secure that window over there," he commented.
"Huh?" Felicity looked at him over her shoulder and then at the living room window realizing what he was talking about. "Ah! Yeah," she said, turning back to her tea, "I knew you'd say that."
She got the two cups ready and handed one to Oliver. It was steaming hot but Felicity didn't seem to mind since she was already sipping hers slowly. Oliver decided to wait, letting the cup warm his hands.
"I always thought when you or Diggle came to my apartment, you'd be looking for security flaws the moment you walked in."
"I thought you would have fixed it by now," Oliver said. Felicity's brow turned quizzical.
"By now? Since when have you known about my window?"
"Since the first time I came here," he said plainly.
"You’ve never been here before, Oliver." As soon as she said it she knew it wasn’t true. Of course he’d been there before, controlling freak that he was.
Oliver just took a sip from his cup, some kind of tangerine tea. He thought the flavour suited Felicity for some reason.
"Right after we met,” he said, “I came here to check the place."
Felicity rose an eyebrow at him.
"Any reason in particular why you would invade my privacy, overstep boundaries -You know, all those things you did by coming to my house before I even knew who you really were?"
"Research," he said, matter-of-factly. "I had to make sure you weren't into anything dangerous before I could consult with you again."
"Right… Anything aside from getting involved with you, you mean."
Ha, funny, Oliver thought
He wasn’t going to apologize, and Felicity wasn’t expecting him to. She moved on to the couch and Oliver followed her so they both took a seat on opposite ends facing each other, steaming cups of tea in hand.
“The things you find acceptable are baffling to me sometimes,” Felicity told him.
Oliver opened his mouth to defend himself but only air came out as he closed it back again.
“Hey, who am I to judge?” she added. “I hack systems for a living.”
“That you do,” he said, a hint of pride in his smile. Felicity returned the smile and the complicit look that lingered one second too long.
She focused back on the orange liquid making circular waves on her cup as she gathered the courage to blurt out the next few words.
“I did want you to be there,” she said, more to her tea than to Oliver, judging by the volume of her voice. She looked up at him; his eyes already set to meet hers. “Today, at the plant, I did expect you to be there.”
Oliver took the pointy needle in the heart and kept his eyes firm. He’d give her at least that.
“I don’t know why,” she shrugged. “I mean, I obviously shouldn’t but –I did. I wanted you to be there.”
“I know,” he said.
“No, you don’t,” she assured him. “You really don’t, Oliver.” Even though she smiled as she shook her head, there was no trace of humour in her scuff. It was strange watching her do that. Felicity wasn’t one to be patronizing.
There was a silence between them. It wasn’t exactly an uncomfortable one but she wanted to break it anyway.
“So what are you going to do about Sara?”
This time Oliver didn’t shy away from the change of topic. He just sighed and looked at her defeated.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I don’t think she wants to tell them anything. She would have done it by now.”
Felicity pondered on the situation for a moment.
“You want my opinion?” she offered genuinely. He didn’t say anything but he didn’t have to. She’d learned to interpret his silence as permission… sometimes. “Talk to her,” Felicity said. “Convince her to tell her family the truth, at least about the fact that she didn’t die on that boat. I know I’m not familiar with everything that happened between you and the Lance family, Oliver, not to mention that I don’t even know Sara, but I do know enough about you to know that you don’t deserve half the hate you get –especially from yourself.”
Oliver tensed up on the couch. He didn’t like being confronted like that and he liked it even less when it was about his demons, about the darkness he tapped into to carry out his mission, the same darkness that kept threatening to eat him up alive.
“I don’t like to talk about that,” he managed to get out.
“About what? The island or life in general?” she said mockingly.
Oliver smirked with a bit of a chuckle slipping through against his will.
“Both, I guess. The island became my life, somehow. I don’t think I ever left there.”
His voice was somber to match the darkness in his eyes as they stared at something far off, away from them, from this moment. Felicity reached for his knee across the couch and squeezed gently to bring him back to the here and now. It worked, and his gaze snapped back quickly to Felicity’s warm eyes.
“Hey, I know you did. I wasn’t there but I’m here now. If you’re here with me that means you’re not on the island anymore.”
As many of the greatest lines ever spoken, Felicity couldn’t have known then what her words would mean to the man who heard them. There was no way she could have seen the subtle crack that opened on the hard shell surrounding his wounded heart. “If you’re here with me that means you’re not on the island anymore.” There, right there, a little voice inside his head, a voice that sounded a lot like life, like hope, like happiness, crept its way up and said: Her, Oliver –she can be your anchor.
Oliver shushed the thought away. |
05: neither happiness nor unhappiness
The bloodiest dispute ever seen in Yokohama underground.
It painted the moon red, the streets lined with the blood of sinners and innocents alike. Devils danced just as gods wept and mortals fled for their lives in the midst of all the chaos.
Eighty-eight days of Hell.
A whirlwind of bloodshed that would never fade, its name etched in the memory of the city.
「
The Dragon Head Conflict
」
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Day 70 of the Conflict
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Soft footsteps resound in the crowded hallway. Normally this part of the building would be filled with silence due in part of its owner’s strict orders however the amount of work being handed over is so large that noise is necessary at the moment. No doubt there would be punishment for it later on but that’s only if they survive the aftermath.
That is why he can brush them off so easily.
“Please wait! We’ve been given orders not to allow anyone beyond this point, even for you, sir!”
“Please reconsider!”
“Nakahara-sama!”
“—I don’t care. Move aside.”
With a last shrug to the men behind him, Nakahara Chuuya steps forward to face a door.
It’s a double door, elegant in design and made of the finest wood Port Mafia can buy with plenty of money to spare. Chuuya guesses that it was made during the organization’s early days though he can’t bring himself to care for it much.
Especially not when the one beyond that door deserves nothing of its elegance.
So it’s with vindication that he kicks it open hard enough to crack.
Just as quickly, a knife enters his range with the aim to kill.
For the Tainted Sorrow stops it before the damned thing can even make a nick.
“What a shame. And here I was hoping to see Chuuya collapse on the floor with blood on his face.”
That voice.
Few things are capable of making Chuuya’s blood boil. That voice is one of those unfortunate few.
Sharp blue eyes glare into the room’s interior where the owner sits.
Dark locks that can shift from black to a dark brown depending on the lighting, a bandage covering the left side of his face with the other visible one being a mixture of blood red and rust. Combined with his expensive suit and the equally lavish decoration in his office, he is what Kouyo’s girls would call “a devilishly handsome youth”.
Too bad his personality contradicts that.
“Shut up, Mackerel. You were sleeping just now weren’t you?!”
“Found out by a chibi. Oh, whatever shall I do?”
Throw you out the window, for starters.
—Is what Chuuya thinks but doesn’t say. It will just be taken for an offer and then he’ll be played with again. So he stays quiet, slips inside and closes the otherwise fine door to prevent anyone from eavesdropping further than they already have.
“The Boss is calling you and you decide to do this? You’re impossible.”
“Well, calm down. Being hot-blooded will get you nowhere at the moment.”
“How can I stay calm? We’re in the middle of Port Mafia’s – no, Yokohama’s – worst gang war in history and you’re here, wasting the time away with napping!!”
Chuuya knows he’s flailing. Can feel his arms move around, Kouyo’s hours of torturous lessons on poise and mannerisms gone in the heat of the moment. Does he care? A bit, Kouyo’s lessons hurt after all, but most of all is that he’s pissed.
Pissed at Dazai for sitting behind that mahogany desk like there’s nothing going on outside. Pissed at himself for coming to this bastard in the first place when he knows that this guy is the most sadistic person in all of Yokohama and pissed at this entire fucking bloodbath going on that’s gone out of control.
“Hm, this is quite the trouble we’ve landed ourselves in.”
Dazai lists out the casualties rendered by the conflict so far: the loss of Takasekai, a weapons dealer company, the total collapse of GSS and several other organizations grinded to the dust.
In the end, the only ones left standing are Port Mafia, the Gifted Special Divisions Department, and the cause White Kirin.
He finishes listing all the other casualties with a nonchalant air, a glass chessboard placed before him in a game pitted against himself.
(Chuuya called him a narcissist once.
He has yet to hear a negative.)
“If you know what’s going on then do something about the situation outside!”
“I’m sure Mori-san can deal with this problem himself. Our main problem lies what’s not present in the conflict after all.”
“You mean Jinrui Corporations?”
Chuuya scowls at the mention of the dreaded company (though the one who mentioned it was him). Jinrui Corporations had done nothing but be a pain in Port Mafia’s side for the past few years; rivalling their Mori Corporation’s assets point for point, surpassing them by a margin in sales and even monopoly over some of the shipyards were lost to Jinrui Corporations.
Normally, the Boss would order an assassination on the head of the company, or even threaten them with blackmail or a bribe, but with a lack of information on Jinrui Corporation’s CEO, that idea had become a moot point. Even Kouyo had admitted defeat when faced with the indomitable fortress that was Jinrui Corporation’s CEO.
“That company has been making money and loyal customers out of the casualties of the conflict by giving them relief goods and humanitarian aid. By the looks of things, they’re making us and the government look like bad guys.
…Is that it, are they the ones to be wary of?”
“Well, Chuuya’s not wrong but he’s not right either. Half point! You only get half a bone.”
“Ah? What’s that supposed to mean?!”
As Chuuya continues to rail, he doesn’t notice the glass chessboard on Dazai’s desk arranged precariously on a stalemate.
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Day 87 of the Conflict
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“Don’t stop me.”
“Corruption, huh…”
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“This is too fun.”
“Isn’t it~”
He moves away just in time to avoid having a bullet him from behind.
Turning, he sees the youth in black, the Demon Prodigy, with his gun posed and ready to shoot.
“Good evening, Demon. I see you’re enjoying the show.”
“Good day, Demon. I see you’ve managed to keep up.”
Two young men, one in black and one in white, stand at the top of the building underneath the glare of the red moon. The explosions from the battle on the other side of the field and the sound of gunshots from the remaining interlopers are their background music.
Neither move. Just standing, waiting.
There is an explosion.
And then they move.
Fyodor has only ever fought a few times in his life. Crime and Punishment is a blessing when it comes to combat as anyone foolish enough to kill him are dead the next second. In this regard, No Longer Human is a dangerous foe. He cannot move as he normally does, it would be nullified, and neither can he approach his opponent easily – Dazai Osamu did not become a Sub-Executive by relying on one weapon only.
He brandishes his knife, a long-time friend and companion, and dashes the moment he predicts the last bullet to be fired.
Dazai tosses his gun in favor of doing the same.
They meet halfway in a rondo of slashes, parries and close-calls.
He is good, for a child. Fyodor can appreciate the way his opponent is able to meet him point for point, not even a flinch present in that blood red eye. Dazai moves like a predator out to sink his claws on his prey but the way his eye shines resembles that of Fyodor’s own.
It is, simply put, breathtakingly beautiful.
The sound of a dragon’s roars echo in their ears, a silent warning to them both, and they draw back.
There is a lull in their fighting for a brief moment. In truth, Fyodor knows that this will not be the last time they will see each other; Dazai surely thinks the same if the way he twirls his knife says anything.
“Your friend will not last against that Singularity you know.”
“Please don’t joke about the friend part. It makes me want to vomit.”
The grossed out look on Dazai’s face is amusing that he can’t deny the urge to smirk.
“Will you be able to say that for much longer, I wonder?”
He raises something from his coat. It’s been waiting for some time now, installed the day before this entire war began. Fyodor doubted that he would ever find the need to use it but he supposes that even he can be proven wrong.
“What are you…?”
“Let us make a bet: if you survive, I shall name you my friend. If you don’t…I shall simply have to raze Yokohama to the ground.”
There is no question that Fyodor will survive; he’s prepared countermeasures for this. But he wonders, what will this youth, who yearns for Death like a long-lost lover, do?
He can’t wait to find out.
.
.
.
Smoke parts from him like the mythical Red Sea as he stands to pat the dust from his clothes, face dirty from having jumped to the nearest bushes for cover.
It’s not the cleanest way for an exit but it would do.
“That was different than last time.”
Last time, he did not seek the Demon out.
Last time, he had allowed Chuuya to run amok in a rampage against the Kirin.
There were plenty of things he had done this time that he had not in the past, but this one has him taken by surprise.
This is out of his scope of expectations and he hopes that this will be the last time he will ever see Dostoyevsky move as he did tonight – unexpected and provoked.
(He’s been wrong before.
This is one time he wishes he’s not.)
So it is with a cough (the smoke got into his lungs too much) that he sets out for the heart of the battlefield where a god and a dragon are butting against each other.
.
.
. |
Really it didn’t come as a surprise when the doctor in charge of him decided he’d had
enough
. Castiel knew that he’d caused the man a whole heaping load of trouble simply by existing.
After all, none of the other patients had assassins gunning for them. Charlie had told him he’d been one of the two names on the man’s hitlist. Which meant Castiel was responsible for all of the chaos, and the bullet holes, and the paperwork, and the trauma- No one wanted that kind of trouble staying with them.
Really, it was the fact that it had taken the doctor two whole days to get to it that was unexpected. Castiel had been ready to get kicked to the curb or an auction block or
somewhere
that wasn’t the hospital the morning after the shots. He’d been prepared for it to happen. He’d
expected
it.
It still hurt.
He was a fool.
“You’re healthy enough to be discharged.” the doctor said, barely glancing at the bedridden slave as he leafed through the papers, only to glance up and firmly catch Castiel’s lowered gaze. “I’m sure you’re happy about that.”
Castiel wasn’t sure that was true, but he nodded obediently. The doctor had nodded at him, which was a clear sign that Castiel should be
agreeing
with him, so agree with him he did. The undertone of annoyance and anger in the man’s voice was clear. Not too obvious yet, but more than enough of a warning.
Don’t cross me.
“Excellent. I’ll have the nurses come by with your discharge papers. You’ll need to sign them and then set up an appointment in a couple of weeks or so to get the cast taken off. Any questions?”
The doctor smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
Don’t question me.
“No, sir.”
Castiel relaxed just a fraction when the doctor’s smile spread further across his face; he’d reacted correctly. His years of training still kept him safe, it seemed. Reading body language and tone was important; it saved your life. Misinterpret a nuance or gesture and you were flogged.
Unlike Charlie, or Jack, or even officer Winchester the doctor was very traditional. No coddling the slave while he was around. Just in and out; mostly out for Castiel now, he realized. No more easy meals and soft bed-
“All right then. I’m glad we got you all fixed up and ready to go. Have a nice day. Nurse?”
The nurse looked as uncomfortable as Castiel felt. Something wasn’t quite right here, even though he had no idea what it was. He knew his presence was no longer wanted. He’d been dismissed before, this was what that felt like. There was nothing wrong with dismissing a slave- but still - perhaps rules were being bent here.
Did the doctor have the authority to sell him? Or just- shove him out the door?
There was no kennel or cell to head for. If they didn’t want him here, where did he go?
Castiel watched the doctor and his nurse hurry out of his room; his hand planted firmly on her lower back. The young woman turned just as the door swung shut and caught Castiel’s eyes before she was made to round the corner and the door slowly swung shut. He gave her a small smile, hoping to ease some of her troubles.
He didn’t know her name, but she reminded him of a slave in the early stages of training. One that knew obedience, but hadn’t yet learned to let go of their own feelings.
The door clicked into its frame, and Castiel didn’t hold back the manic giggle that bubbled up. As if he’d learned to control his feelings. Hope, anger, the stupid desire to be good instead of becoming the unfeeling body his masters desired - he’d never been good at shutting off his head.
Even now, he was thinking about how this might not be right, or what he’d do next. He didn’t have that kind of agency. Did he get moved to a training facility? Perhaps an FBI holding cell? Did they auction him off?
Castiel stared up at the ceiling above his bed, he’d know when he knew; he guessed. No point in trying to figure out what people thought.
Still- his brain kept turning.
Dean hadn’t made any indication that he’d run out of questions, so a new owner seemed unlikely. Few masters were willing to share their slaves right after purchase; that only started later on; when the novelty of a new face to fuck wore off.
Unless Jack had been telling the truth.
Slavery was illegal.
He was a free man...
It would leave him in an even worse situation, really. There would be no holding cell where he would be fed and watered. No kind new master who would give him a roof over his head and a purpose in life.
He’d be alone, and very, very lost.
“You are not giving him those without me present!”
Castiel shot up into a sitting position as Charlie and another mystery nurse burst through his door; the mechanism up top the only thing protecting the door from a sizable dent. The young, white-clad man cowered under the queen’s indignation and anger but sidestepped into the room and his bedside anyway.
“What am I supposed to do? Doc’s orders are doc’s orders.”
“He can’t read, you peon. How legal do you think any of this is?”
Castiel looked down at his sheets when they both looked at him. Legal. The word seemed to be sticking to him like glue. And once again, he himself had no idea what it truly meant. Just a pawn in a massive game he couldn't play.
“Then what do I do?” The man hissed. “Go back to Gaines, and- what? Just hand these back? He’ll eat me alive.”
“Give me those.” Charlie snatched the papers out of cowed hands. “It’s not like he’s leaving today anyway. I’ll wait till the FBI agents get here and have them look it over.”
A silence fell over the room, and Castiel watched the man’s now paperless hands fidget for what felt like an eternity. He had clean hands, Castiel mused. He probably moisturized. All the nurses were always so clean.
“Ugh, fine,” Charlie broke the silence with a sigh. “You can tell Dr. Gains that I stole the papers from you while you were valiantly trying to obey his fucking orders, and I’ll handle the rest of this fucked up mess. Now scram.” A single finger pointed the other nurse out of the room, and it was obeyed at once.
“Thanks, Charline. I owe you one.”
Castiel recognized groveling when he saw it, and the nurse was just barely above crawling out the door. Castiel sat shock still, Charlie was getting in the way of something big. Something to do with things being legal or not, things that the doctor - Gains - would not like.
“It’s fucking Charlie, dude. And
yeah,
you do.”
The queen waited till the door had clicked shut before she tossed the bundle of neatly printed papers down on a chair. Castiel watched one page slowly slide down the side of the plastic seat and flutter to the floor. Charlie didn’t care, already pacing around the room; arms flying out as she turned.
“Ok. Ok. Ok.”
The slave glanced up to watch her pivot every three steps; fingers now on her temples.
“OK." Charlie came to an abrupt standstill, eyes on the slave still sitting perfectly upright in his bed. Castiel withered under her gaze." You're being discharged."
“Yes?” He still had no idea what it all meant or if any of it was legal, but at least he knew that that was happening.
"First things first. Do you know what that means?"
"I-" Castiel felt sweat prickling between his shoulder blades. He only had the truth. "I don't know for sure."
“Fuck.” Charlie groaned, angrily poking through her pockets till she found her phone. “Gains is a dick, but he’s still in charge. And, yeah, I can kick up a fuss for a while but we're going to need the big guns here." Castiel swallowed, Charlie knew something he didn’t, and she didn’t like it. “I’m calling Dean, he probably doesn’t even know about this yet.”
The maybe a slave felt himself relax. Dean. Dean would help. Dean would tell him what would happen; what to do. Winchester was an FBI agent; an officer of the law. He was in charge. All Castiel had to do was listen to him.
“Dean? Yeah, it’s me. No, no. Everything’s fine. Well, not
fine
, but no one’s trying to kill anyone.” She paused, frowning at the door. “Though I’m close to strangling
someone
with his own stethoscope.”
Castiel fidgeted, even though he’d been corrected for squirming in the past - slaves not in use sat perfectly still and looked pretty - but he couldn't help himself. This was big, and it was about
him
… again.
“He’s being discharged.” Charlie paused to listen, and Castiel made damn well sure he wasn’t straining to hear the man on the other end. “Yeah, I know that’s technically a good thing, dumbass. The problem is that they tried to get him to sign the papers even though they know he’s illiterate. They were pretty much just planning to dump him. Plus, I’m sure they’re supposed to tell the dude in fucking charge of the investigation what’s going on with their prime witness, who was attacked
twice
.” She fumed, staring at the ceiling as the other end of the conversation answered. “Just get your ass over here. Yeah, I’ll explain what I can but I’m not letting him sign
anything
till I know he’ll be safe. Mhm. Mhm. Mhm. good. See ya soon.”
She tapped the screen more aggressively than was commonly necessary, and dropped the phone back into a pocket before sinking down into the chair not covered in papers.
"Ok. So you’re being discharged.” She waved her hands around a bit. “Translating fancy words into simpler English- It means that they're trying to kick you out. But I promise you I won't let them."
Castiel believed her.
"Not till I know you're going somewhere safe."
Castiel sagged back into the bedding. No flash auctions. Not yet, at least. No matter what reality ended up being true… he would not be pushed onto a stage to be sold to the highest bidder looking for a limping slave to play with.
"Thank you."
Charlie smiled, it wasn't her usual broad one that accompanied Harry Potter doing something hilarious and daring, but it didn't hold any secrets. Castiel could trust that smile.
"We'll figure this out. And Dean's going to help, I'll make sure of that." Humor was slipping back into her tone, and seconds later the well-worn book appeared in her hands. "And until the FBI shows up- a bit of light reading?"
Castiel nodded eagerly. Even if he hadn't recognized the suggestion as a coping mechanism, the lure of fantasy was too strong to ignore. They were nearing the end of the book, and it was getting exciting.
------
"Knock knock." Agent Winchester stuck his head around the door jamb as he rapped his knuckles on the thick wood."Am I going to have to arrest you for murder, or can I leave my handcuffs where they are?"
Charlie closed the book, no finger marking their page.
"He's still breathing, you can save the cuffs for the bedroom."
“Good.” Dean walked in, taking off his coat and heading for his usual chair when he noticed the papers. “Huh- they really tried to hand you papers to sign?”
Castiel nodded, still unsure of what he was meant to do here.
“Gains is sick of his domain being overrun by the feds.” Charlie piped up. “He’s not used to sharing.”
Dean picked up the papers carefully, flipping through them. “Can’t say I blame him. We do tend to attract extra attention.”
“Like knife and gun-wielding maniacs?”
“Like knife and gun-wielding maniacs, yes. Is this standard paperwork?”
“I’d expect it, yeah. Why?”
“No reason, just curious.” Dean set the packet on Castiel’s side table. “Now. What’s been explained so far?”
Castiel looked to Charlie before opening his mouth, but the queen wasn’t answering for him.
“I’m healthy enough to leave the hospital.”
“Which is kinda correct,” Charlie interjected. “But he’s not got anywhere to go. The other victims are getting paperwork too and shit, but- they can read it through before they sign and most have families to go back to. And what does that even matter if there’s guys with guns going after them? And-”
Castiel lowered his eyes; fingertips playing with his bedding again. If Winchester was willing to help him, he’d be saved from an uncertain and dangerous future. But Dean hadn’t visited him in days- he’d probably lost all value. The only reason he was here was that Charlie had requested him.
“Ok. Ok.” Dean held up his hands; stopping Charlie in her tracks. “I already put some of our legal team on this before I left the office. So no one’s getting kicked out at any point. Not when the bad guys are sending fucking assassins to a fucking hospital. So chill.”
Charlie huffed, but nodded for Dean to go on.
“We’ve been busy since the second guy made his way inside. This whole case gets bigger with every suspect and witness we get but we’ve actually started prosecuting some people.” Winchester grimaced. “Which is probably why they sent a second hitman. And that’s why we’re giving everyone the choice whether they go straight home or into a safe house first. I’ve got other agents going by the other victims today too. So what do you think?”
It took Castiel a few awkward seconds of silence to realize he’d been the one asked a question.
“I’m not sure, sir?” He’d been listening, of course. But apart from the reason that there had been a second assassin … nothing really meant anything to him. Certainly, no choice had been offered.
“Try actually asking a question, doofus.” Charlie snarked, and Castiel was grateful for her direction, even if he wouldn’t have put it quite that rudely.
“Right. Right. Well-” Dean licked his lips. “There’s a couple of questions actually.”
Castiel’s heart soared. Questions. Questions for
him
!
“So. The first one is like- major important.”
Castiel lifted his gaze and made sure his hands were still; signaling to the officer that he was paying attention without interrupting him.
“When cases like these get taken to court the jury gets confronted by very, very expensive lawyers. Which means we - the FBI - need to have a watertight case. But we also need a human element. Juries get swayed by testimonies, mostly, when they’ve heard science and law mumbo jumbo for hours on end.”
Castiel nodded, brain working overtime to comprehend what the agent was telling him.
“Truth and lie gets muddled in these hearings. But if we can put a witness, or a victim in the stand to tell their story. It takes facts and gives them a face. And not everyone is up for that. Victims have been through a lot and no one can blame them for not wanting to go on a stand and speak about their trauma. And there’s witnesses who don’t want to be connected in any other way but anonymous testimony.”
Dean’s hands moved as he talked, drawing circles and lines as he tried to connect the points in his head to his words.
“We don’t
have
to put anyone on a stand of course. There’s audio that can be played. Or a written testimony. But face to face with the jury is the preferred method. Though, yes, that puts someone in the same room as the accused which isn’t nice.”
“Do you have a point, or are we just getting courtroom stuff one-o-one?” Charlie interrupted.
“Right, sorry. I just- You don’t really know any of this. Anyway. To the point- what I’m asking you, and you can change your answer any time you want. I swear. Castiel, would you be willing to testify in court?”
“Wait.” Charlie’s hand shot out, and Castiel swallowed his breath. “Before you give an answer, can you tell me what you think Dean the word machine is asking?”
Castiel nodded. That was a good order. This was Dean’s most important question; they had to be sure he understood it all correctly.
“I’m being asked-” He took a breath, organizing his words carefully. “If I am willing to speak in front of a jury during court. Which means I’d be telling them things about my masters, who will be in the room because they are the ones on trial.”
Charlie smiled, and Castiel could feel her pride. His chest swelled.
“Yeah, exactly.” Dean nodded. “See. I can explain things.”
“You’re lucky he’s smart.” Charlie countered, and Castiel ducked his blushing face.
“What do you say? Would you be interested? It would help our case tremendously. Make sure all the bastards get put behind bars for a long time and never hurt anyone again.”
Castiel thought about Jack. A person stolen from his own home and forced into slavery. No way in hell was Castiel going to pass up the chance to make sure that never happened again.
“Yes.” He said to his hands, and then again while he faced the agent. “Yes, I’m willing to testify.”
Dean’s face lit up, further cementing Castiel’s decision. Dean had helped him so much already, it was the least he could do in return.
“That’s great Castiel. But I meant it. You ever feel uncomfortable about any of it and you’re free to back out.”
“I won’t back out, sir,” Castiel promised. He’d commit to this; keep people like Jack safe.
“Alright. Great. Now. About you being discharged. There’s a couple of ways this can go, but most of them don't really apply to you.”
Castiel took that in his stride. He was a slave, and the officer was more used to working with actual people.
“As you don’t have a family or a residence to return to as of right now. You’ve really got two options. You can go to a safe house, or an acquaintance.”
Castiel wasn’t sure he knew what an acquaintance was, but he was pretty sure he could read between the lines and see where a safe house would lead him. Training. Slaves not sold at an auction were held in holding facilities or training camps to bump up their chance at a sale.
“I get to choose?” He hedged.
“Of course.” Dean encouraged him, though the man’s face fell. “But I don’t think there’s that many acquaintances. Not that we haven't been looking, I swear.”
“There's me and there’s you.” Charlie huffed. “And I don’t have space for a full-time guest.” She smiled at Castiel, “I wish I did. I swear.”
“That leaves me then,” Dean smiled. “Unless you’ve got any ideas?”
“No, sir.”
“Alrighty. So. You’re not going to be moved like- tomorrow. So you’ve got a couple of days to decide. Safe house or my house.”
“Your house,” Castiel hurried. He did not need to think this through. He didn’t want to. “Please.”
Holding houses were terrible, terrible places. Yes, they helped him become a more desirable object, but their methods…
“Please don’t take me to a safe house.”
The detective looked at him for a long time, then seemed to make up his mind. Castiel felt his shoulders relax the millisecond he nodded.
“Ok. No safe house. You’re sure you want to come live with me?”
Castiel’s neck felt so loose now that the tension had drained from his body his nod must have looked ridiculous. “Yes.”
“Well all right then! I’ll get the paperwork sorted, and then figure out how to get you out of here safely. Sound good?”
“Yes, sir.”
|
If the Wakandans expected him to roll over and surrender again, they were in for a surprise, Erik reflected as he stepped from the gangplank to the salt-scoured wood of the pier. Despite their last negotiation, he didn't actually make a habit of undercutting his own side. And in any case, if they wanted his goodwill, they shouldn't have insisted he be called immediately from his post in Essex, thus throwing the furlough roster into disarray, again. Bouts of illness among the men and an urgent problem with the supply line had conspired to delay, and delay, and ultimately cancel Erik's September visit to Charles and the children; if this nonsense cost him the furlough he'd scheduled for January, heads would roll.
A trio of Wakandans waited for him on the pier, lantern-light warming the bright colors of their formal robes. The tallest of them, a wrinkled man with patches of white in his short fuzz of hair, bowed and spoke. "We welcome you to Wakanda, Sir Erik of House Lehnsherr of Genosha, King's Paladin and honored guest of our Chieftains. I am called Eagle; these are my sons."
It was still odd to him that the Wakandans called both their leaders Chieftain rather than King and Queen. Wakanda kept a much less formal hierarchy than Genosha; though Storm and Black Panther wielded unmistakable power, they wielded it like the alpha pair of a wolf-pack, with snaps and snarls as needed, and nuzzles of affection likewise. Erik had always felt that their system allowed too much disorder and dissent – but then, Sebastian's iron grip wasn't serving Genosha much better, was it?
"I am honored to be here, Eagle," Erik said, returning the bow and trying not to visibly shiver in the winter dusk. "I hope I may be of use to both our leaders' satisfactions."
"Well said, Paladin." Eagle grinned appreciation of Erik's diplomatic sidestep. "My sons will bring your belongings, if you will accompany me."
"I've only the one trunk, we might as well travel together."
The four of them, plus Erik's trunk, were loaded into a coach, and set off away from the docks into the town. The coach was open-topped in the local style, and though Wakanda had warmer winters than Genosha, the night was cold enough to displease. Still, it was preferable to his stuffy cabin on the ship.
"I must admit, Eagle," and how strange it was not to preface a stranger's name with some form of honorific, but of course Eagle was the honorific, the man's battle-name, "I am still unclear as to my purpose here. I was told only that the Chieftains had insisted on my presence for some manner of negotiation."
Eagle gave a formal sort of shrug. "There is some unpleasant business occurring between our own patrolmen and the Genoshans stationed at this port. But I am not informed about the matter; the Chieftains, I'm sure, will tell you all."
Erik settled back against his seat, suppressing a growl. If it turned out he had been brought here for nothing, if a trivial move in someone else's political game cost him the chance to see Charles, there would be 'unpleasant business' indeed.
Absently he fingered the chain around his neck, not daring to touch the ring it carried. Leaving Charles and the children had been harder than ever, knowing Victor Creed existed at all, much less was living in the same palace. He'd given Charles a knife to keep by the bed, which Charles resisted accepting until Erik pointed out that he might need to defend the children.
"I'll see that Moira learns how to use it," Charles had said with a sigh. "I wouldn't be much use, in the event."
"Don't underestimate yourself," Erik said, because whether his legs worked or not, it was hard to imagine anything surviving an encounter with Charles when he was protecting his children.
It ought to be me protecting them, Erik thought, no longer seeing the Wakandan city as it passed. What good is any man, particularly a man-simple, if he cannot protect his family?
Erik little allowed himself the memory of his father, but for the briefest of moments he saw firelight on steel, the shouts and the crash of boots as the New Aryans poured into the fortress. Sir Jakob of House Lehnsherr had shielded his fourteen-year-old son from the fall of a battle-axe, and from that moment Erik was the head of his family, the safety of his mother and brother fallen onto his shoulders. And he'd failed, utterly, within a quarter hour.
He could not fail Charles, or Raven, or Hank. He would not.
"The decorations are beautiful, are they not?"
Eagle's voice shook Erik from his reverie, and he looked up to see the old man gazing raptly at the dark streets as they passed. Tiny multicolored lights twinkled on all sides, hanging along roof-edges and the branches of trees.
"What's the occasion?" Erik asked.
"Krismas, of course! If you are here over the holiday, which seems likely, as the Chieftains' honored guest you will be invited to celebrate with their family."
"Oh," was all Erik could manage. He had heard, before, that Krismas was extremely significant in Wakanda; in Genosha, where most people followed a peculiar paganistic take on Unitarianism, it was little more than a few songs and a family dinner. And to Erik's family, quietly following their own, older and more demanding religion, it had been even less. He hoped he wouldn't make any particularly awkward mistakes.
"Here is the Chieftains' House," Eagle said, as the coach passed through a gate and down a drive. The house at the end of it, decorated with ribbons and wreaths and white-gold Krismas lights, was large and well-built, but certainly not the palace he had expected. "You have been given the use of a cottage behind the house. The Chieftains thought you might prefer the privacy."
"Certainly. I appreciate the thought."
The cottage lacked decorative lights, he was relieved to see, and was frankly quite small, but he'd certainly had worse. Eagle went inside first, to light the lamp and stoke the fire, followed by his silent sons with the trunk. Erik found the little cottage very comfortable indeed, the sitting room offering comfortable furniture and a well-built fireplace. A jug of water and covered dish sat on a table by the hearth.
"Through that door, Sir Erik, is the bedroom, and beyond that the necessary. You will generally dine with the Chieftains, but as you can see, a meal has been brought to you tonight. With the lateness of the hour, the Chieftains believed you would likely prefer not to audience with them until morning...?" Erik nodded swiftly; the last thing he wanted tonight was to begin the political dance. He wanted his dinner and his bed, and the first was optional. "Then we bid you goodnight, honored guest," Eagle said, and bowed his way out the door.
Alone at last, Erik allowed himself to collapse onto the sofa and tip water from the jug into the cup provided. He'd barely taken a swallow when he heard the bedroom door open behind him.
Steel sang as it left its sheath, and he was on his feet, water dashed to the floor and sword point dimpling flesh, faster than conscious thought.
Blue eyes gone moon-round met his, and their owner's throat moved weakly against the blade as he whispered, "Surprise?"
"Charles!" Erik dropped the sword with a clatter, and rushed forward to engulf him. "Charles. Charles, what – of all the – don't you ever—"
"Yes, I can see now that was unwise," Charles said, but had no opportunity to continue since his mouth was otherwise occupied.
"What are you doing here?" Erik mumbled between kisses.
"Mm, complicated," was the only response.
It was some minutes before Erik consciously noticed that Charles was standing, that the hard edge of crutches were digging into his arms. "What's this, Charles?"
Charles grinned. "Back up a step, and I'll show you." Reluctantly, Erik complied, and was rewarded with the sight of Charles crossing the room under his own power. His progress was slow and thumping and awkward, his legs held out stiff by braces of some sort beneath his clothes, but progress it was. Charles was walking.
It didn't undo what Erik had done, the damage he'd caused to the one man he'd rather die than hurt. Nothing could ever make up for that. But it still felt like some measure of lost grace handed back to him, surely some near-kin to a miracle.
"Oh, Erik." Charles raised a hand to Erik's tear-streaked face as he came back within reach. "Erik, don't – it's all right, really, Erik, it's—"
"Of course it's all right. You're walking, Charles," Erik said, his voice muffled by Charles's shoulder as he hugged him tightly.
"More or less," Charles said, half-laughing. "I'm not very good at it yet, my arms get sore and I fall down a lot – but it's nice, it's ever so nice to be out of the chair, even for just an hour or two a day! The children like me to chase them, they run just slowly enough... Oh, it's wonderful, Erik." Charles melted entirely against him, letting the crutches fall in favor of getting his arms around Erik's waist.
For several minutes they stayed like that, quietly soaking in each other's presence.
"How are you here in Wakanda?" Erik asked eventually. "I almost expect to wake up any moment, alone on the sofa..." He shivered.
"I'm really here, love, I promise you. I've been in Wakanda the last fortnight, in fact, giving Armando and Angel a long-overdue visit with their parents. Raven, Hank, Moira, we're all here."
"Thank God." Erik pressed a kiss into the side of Charles's neck. "I've been worried sick, I never should have left you with that psychopath on the loose."
"We've been just fine, Erik, I promise. It's not like you had any choice." He pulled back far enough to run his fingers over every inch of Erik's face. "I've missed you so much."
"Funny chance, isn't it," Erik said, raising an eyebrow, "my getting called here on the Chieftains' insistence, during your visit?"
Charles gave a smug little chuckle that woke up what few of Erik's nerve endings had not already responded to Charles's presence. "As it turns out, Storm and I get along like a house afire. I merely mentioned to her how very useful you would be in our current predicament, and how very pleasant I would find your company – and behold, here you are."
"Here I am." Charles's arms were starting to shake with the effort of keeping him upright; carefully Erik maneuvered both of them onto the sofa, Charles ensconced in his lap. "You don't think it'll look odd to Sebastian, you and I being here at the same time?"
"As far as Sebastian knows, the Chieftains' family is wintering in the capital city of Taji, fifty miles away, and I with them. And it was Duke Worthington, official liasion to Wakanda, who signed the order to bring you here. The paperwork crossed Sebastian's desk, no doubt. Whether he actually noticed anything about it, well." He leaned in for a brief, gentle kiss. "There's always risk, of course. Do you think I shouldn't have done it?"
"Not for a second."
Charles smiled. "Tell me how you've been."
Erik let out a long breath, leaning into Charles's temple. "Cantankerous and lonely. Howlett was glad to see the back of me, even if it did mean postponing his furlough. Speaking of Howlett, I skinned my knuckles punching him yesterday. Sparring match."
"My poor darling," Charles chuckled, and began kissing Erik's knuckles, very gently, one by one.
"How have you been? And the children. Tell me everything," Erik said.
"Later," Charles said, and pushed Erik down flat on his back on the couch before he could protest.
Not that he'd been planning to, of course.
***
At dawn, Erik walked to the main house with Charles thumping along beside him, and they joined Storm and Black Panther for family breakfast, which was a pleasantly chaotic tumble of laughing children and steaming food. Erik found himself trying to eat with baby Hank bundled in his arms and Angel tugging his sleeve, Charles keeping one hand on his thigh under the table even as he spooned honeyed porridge into Raven's mouth and wiped syrup from her cheeks. Angel and Armando apparently had two brothers, one elder and one younger, who contributed their share of noise and activity, and were as intrigued by the stranger in their midst as their siblings were eager to show him off.
After breakfast, Erik made reluctant political noises, but Storm waved him off. "Far too early for that," she said. "Ask me again after luncheon." Erik was happy to oblige.
While Storm and her family belted out half-familiar carols and hung bits of greenery and ribbon all over the house, Charles took their half of the party into another room.
"Physical therapy," he said. "Moira, show Erik what we do for Hank? I'm sure he'd like to help." He himself started making deliberate laps of the room on his crutches, and Erik watched with his mouth open as Raven reared up on her chubby little legs and followed him, squealing and babbling, her golden curls bouncing with each clumsy step.
"I did tell you she was walking now," Charles laughed, catching sight of his face.
"Yes, but seeing it is..." He stepped closer, held out a hand, and Raven gripped it tightly, giving him a grin and a spate of urgent babble. Moving very slowly and half-crouched, Erik followed her across the room.
"It still hurts that I missed her first birthday," Erik murmured.
"She loves the music box you sent," Charles said with a soft smile. "Won't sleep without it."
Charles started another circuit, and Raven led Erik over to where Moira sat with Hank on the floor, kneading and pulling at his feet. Raven's pointing and gabbling at Hank were on the very verge of making sense, Erik thought; how had she grown so quickly?
Hank, too, was considerably changed from how Erik remembered him, a babe of six months rather than seven days, though he still looked unimaginably fragile next to bright, sturdy Raven. He looked up at Erik with eyes exactly the brilliant blue of his Papa's, and gummed messily at his fist with an expression of deep thought.
Half me, Erik thought. How can either of them be half me when they're so perfect?
"As you can see, his leg mobility is fine," Moira said dryly as Hank kicked his feet out of her grasp. "As far as Charles and Dr. Henri can tell, there's no reason he shouldn't be able to walk, in time, if we can only get his feet into the proper shape." She recaptured a foot and resumed massaging it, her motions clearly aimed at molding the tiny appendage out of its twisted knot. Erik couldn't say with certainty whether it was doing any good -- it was the sort of thing that would only work very slowly -- but he decided to believe that his son's feet did seem somewhat improved.
Erik took up the other foot and began imitating Moira's movements. After a few minutes, Charles pulled up at his side in his wheelchair, and Erik half-consciously leaned against his leg, so that Charles could run warm fingers through his hair. Raven fumbled with a handful of wooden blocks beside them, the sound of off-key Krismas carols crept under the door, and at the moment even Moira's presence wasn't especially irritating.
Erik turned his face a little more into Charles's thigh, and tried not to think about Essex or Genosha or anything but this one moment in this one room.
***
Days passed all too quickly, wonderfully unstructured mornings giving way to business in the afternoons. There was, in fact, a purpose to Erik's presence in Wakanda; a dispute, as Eagle had said, between the Wakandan port authorities and the Genoshan troops guarding their ships. It boiled down to a cultural misunderstanding, sorted out quickly with the arrival of an authority respected by both sides. Erik set his men's behavior to rights immediately, but lingered over the accompanying paperwork, stretching it out over a schedule that would keep him in Wakanda a full fortnight, including Krismas Day.
Every night Erik helped put the children to bed – even Armando and Angel, at their insistence – and bid his hosts goodnight, then went out to his cottage. Charles arrived perhaps a half hour later, sooner if he could manage it.
"I don't think that's necessary," Erik finally said when Charles moved to blow out the bedside lamp the third night in a row. "The curtains are thick and in any case, this window faces away from the road and house. Are you worried about offending the sensibilities of the birds and foxes?" He ran his fingertips down the curve of Charles's cheek. "Leave it on. I want to see you."
Charles turned away from the lamp with clear reluctance. When Erik unbuttoned his shirt, following it off his shoulder with a trail of kisses, Charles immediately pulled the blanket up over them.
Erik pulled back, frowning.
Charles's face was set in a false, nervous smile, cheeks blooming red. "Nothing. It's fine. Do keep going."
Erik's frown deepened. "Charles, tell me what's wrong."
"Nothing. It's just..." He looked into Erik's implacable face and sighed. "It's just that I've... I'm... I mean to say, Erik, I've two birth scars now, the second rather uglier than the first, and the flabby stretch-marked fallout of back-to-back pregnancies and a bloody lot of time sitting on my bottom while my legs wither, not to mention I'm breastfeeding which never contributes to a masculine appearance and I know I'm being silly or at least I hope I'm being silly but I'd hate for both us to find out the hard way that aesthetically speaking my body just isn't what it was." He swallowed and breathed tightly through his nose, waiting.
Erik, torn between several reactions, settled for pulling his own shirt over his head and tossing it to the floor – a move that certainly drew Charles's eye, though it seemed to confuse as much as intrigue.
"This isn't very pretty, is it?" Erik said, taking Charles's hand and pressing it to the long, puckered scar that crossed his left pectoral. "Souvenir of a New Aryan swordsman the night my family was massacred. What of this one?" He moved their hands to the shallow groove down his ribs. "This one I received during the campaign here in Wakanda. This one on my arm – I don't even know how it happened, didn't realize I was bleeding until the battle was over. All my scars are signs of the things I've survived. I've never been ashamed of them, and I didn't think you were either."
"No! No, of course not," Charles said, tightening his hand around Erik's bicep, "but there's a world of difference between the battle-scars of a soldier and—"
"No. There is no difference at all. Pregnancy and childbirth and paralysis, these are the wars you have fought, the battles you've survived." He cupped his hands around Charles's face. "You will never be less than beautiful to me." He leaned in to kiss the scar that ran through Charles's eyebrow, and worked his way down from there, until Charles was in no fit state to argue with anyone.
***
The exchange of Krismas gifts was apparently a source of great fuss and excitement in Wakanda, even for adults. Erik, silently panicking at the idea of buying an appropriate and diplomatic gift for his hosts, did not resist as much as he normally might have when Charles woke him at dawn to take him shopping.
Erik had seen very little of the town of Yakuti Bay; his last visit hadn't exactly been for sight-seeing, after all, and this time around, he'd declined to accompany the family on their trips to town in favor of getting his work done or spending time alone with Charles. Now he found himself more interested than he expected in the cultural history and trivia Charles spilled excitedly as they made their way through the shops, Charles trying very hard not to roll over anyone's toes.
"—very much a Christian holiday in these parts," he said as they exited a crowded bakery with a box of frosted cakes, "despite the mishmash of pagan and secular traditions rolled into it through the years. I hope that doesn't bother you?"
"Why would it bother me?"
"Well, I... I mean, we haven't actually discussed the matter, but I... couldn't help noticing..." Charles's cheeks were reddening, Erik was fascinated to observe. "I mean, I don't know of any group other than the Jews that practices..."
Erik barked an involuntary laugh as he realized what Charles meant. "Circumcision?"
"Yes, precisely." Charles's blush deepened, and Erik had to fight not to lean down for a taste of warm skin.
"It's been many years since I practiced my faith in any meaningful way," he said instead. "Even if I did, I've hardly a right to prevent others practicing theirs."
"Don't you miss it?" Charles looked both curious and sad. "The faith you grew up with. We don't have to talk about it, of course," he added swiftly, when Erik hesitated. "Particularly not on a crowded street."
Erik made a noncommital noise, reaching for a cake from the box in Charles's lap. The truth, he realized as frosting melted on his tongue, was that he did miss it, that he was even jealous at times of Charles's easy devotion to the reigning beliefs of Genosha. That all life was sacred and beautiful, children most of all, and that replenishing the post-Virus earth was both privilege and holy duty – these were ideas that Charles would likely have embraced regardless of religion, and they were not ideas Erik objected to. He could, if he chose, have joined Charles in his prayers and candle-rites at any time, and had a little of that peace and comfort himself, but it simply didn't seem meant for him. If he were to pray, he wished to do it as a Jew, and that had not seemed possible for many years. He realized now, suddenly, in the midst of a crowded Wakandan sidewalk with a half-eaten Krismas cake in his hand, his irrational assumption that his religion, like all good things in his life, had died with his parents.
"I wouldn't know how to go about it, now," he said at last, low-voiced. "I wouldn't know where to start."
"Hanukkah starts tomorrow," Charles said. "I looked it up."
"Mmm," Erik said, and let the matter drop.
By the time they stopped for a late lunch, both men were weighed down with ragdolls, gameboards, wooden animals, hats and scarves for the children.
"If we were in Genosha, I'd get Armando a dollhouse," Charles said as they took a table at a cafe, asking for coffee and the local specialty of peanut soup and doughy fufu. "I think he'd really like having a whole little family and house of furniture to play with. But I'm not sure if it's considered appropriate for a boy here. I don't want to set him up to get teased."
"He's androji, though. It shouldn't matter."
"Cultural differences, my friend. Androji aren't treated as differently from boys-simple here as they are at home. In Genosha people have been debating for generations whether androji are boys at all or some third sex altogether, though that idea has yet to gain any wide acceptance. Here, it seems they settled the issue long ago. Androji are men who can have babies, tale concluded. I've heard some fascinating stories from the East, where it seems things are quite different indeed – androji are considered some sort of holy union of opposites, praised and emulated, with their own pronouns and everything. Perhaps that would be an improvement over the Genoshan tendency to treat them like weak, effeminate men..."
"Note the distant use of 'them' from an actual androji who has borne two children," Erik said dryly.
Charles's cheeks colored a bit. "Well, yes, I suppose... It's easy to discuss these things in terms of other people, where it's not my own masculinity at stake. I certainly do feel male, personally – a fiercely maternal male but there you are – but would I feel that way if I'd not been raised to it?
"Here you are, gentlemen." A waitress set coffee, soup, and fufu before them on the table, then laughed suddenly, glancing at something overhead. "Why, look! You've chosen the mistletoe table. You've no choice but to kiss now."
Erik looked up; yes, there was indeed a sprig of mistletoe hanging above their table. An uncommon and loosely-enforced tradition in Genosha, but one he'd seen before. There might be heavier expectations here, but they could surely wriggle out of it nonetheless by explaining they were both married to other people. If they chose.
Erik leaned across the little table and found Charles already meeting him in the middle. The kiss was short and decorous – or intended to be – but Erik grabbed the back of Charles's neck and let it turn hungry, just for a moment, for one moment so he could pretend they had every right to each other, and no reason to fear others' reactions. They were surrounded by strangers in a foreign land, Sebastian did not even know where they were, they had the shield of local tradition – surely they could risk a single moment.
Someday, Erik promised himself as they drew back, neither breathing quite evenly. Someday they would be together in the sight of God and man and none have the right to question it.
"What are you talking about, Erik, you don't have to get me anything," Charles said absently as they looked through the offerings at a swordsmith's shop – blades, sheaths, slings and arrows. "Believe me, your presence is present enough."
"And how would that look, when Krismas morning arrives and the representatives of Genosha have snubbed each other? Besides, I saw you getting that book wrapped on the sly, and I'm the only one around to hide it from."
"All right, yes, of course I'm getting you a present or two—"
"Then it's settled." Not that he had the slightest idea what to get Charles. He couldn't remember ever getting anyone a Krismas present before. He had little experience with gifts at all – even birthday presents, in Genosha, were mostly for children – and these would be opened in front of the Wakandan royal family, so the sort of thing his mind might immediately leap to was obviously out of the question. "But can't you give me a hint what you want?"
"Nope." Charles gave him a cheeky grin. "Not going to make it that easy on you, my friend. What do you think of this?"
Erik picked up the dagger Charles had indicated, and grimaced. "Terrible balance. Tell me again why we're looking at weaponry? It would seem to violate the harmonious Krismas spirit."
"On the contrary, it's quite the harmonious gesture," Charles said. "Giving weapons to an ally is a gesture of trust, you see, and we need all the goodwill we can get."
"But we've already chosen gifts for Black Panther and Storm." He should know – the enameled box of imported Genoshan tea Charles had insisted Black Panther would love, and the tortoiseshell combs that he said would look gorgeous in Storm's dramatic white hair, were even now weighing down the bag on Erik's shoulder.
"Those are my gifts, Erik, I'm afraid you'll need some of your own. If we were married we might get away with joint gifting, but as it is..." Charles gave a tiny, sad smile and brushed their hands together.
Erik grabbed the hand before it could escape, and laced their fingers together. "Very well. What do you think of this? A matched pair of whetstones."
"That's a possibility..."
On the first night of Hanukkah, Erik spent hours after dinner hammering out a last-minute treaty problem with Black Panther and Storm. When at last he arrived at his borrowed cottage, he found Charles there with Raven and Hank, and a rather battered menorah.
Charles watched his gaze catch on the candelabrum and its attendant candles and matches. "Just in case you wanted to," he said casually, switching their nursing son to the other side and dangling a bit of string for Raven, who batted at it like a kitten. "I hope you don't mind that I brought the little ones – I know this is usually our time, but you've hardly seen them all day..."
"No, I'm glad you brought them." After all, if they became inconvenient, Erik was not above turning the nearby wicker hamper over them to keep them out of trouble while their parents were otherwise engaged. Grinning, Erik scooped Raven into his arms, and peppered her face with kisses while she squealed and laughed through a spate of her customary babble. He tucked her onto one hip and bent to kiss Hank's damp, rosy cheek, then Charles's lips, leaning in deepen it when the kiss threatened to turn perfunctory.
"Mmm," Charles said appreciatively, "never let it be said you can't show a fellow a good time."
For a couple of hours, the little cottage was a quiet, cozy scene, Erik sharing his plate of fruit and bread with Raven and adjusting the blue bow in her hair, then settling a dozy Hank onto the bed, all the while complaining to Charles about bureaucracy and hearing his complaints about the uselessness of one of the spies he'd left at court. All the while, Erik's eyes wandered repeatedly toward the menorah on the table.
When Erik tore his gaze away from the candlestick for the tenth or eleventh time, he turned to see Charles holding out a matchbox. With a sigh and a flutter of nerves, he took them.
He hadn't thought he would remember the sung prayers – the tunes, perhaps, but not the Hebrew words, which he'd barely understood even as a child. But after a false start or two, they seemed to flow from him like water, the cadence catching at his heart and dragging up memories he'd thought were lost long ago.
his father's voice, "Barukh atah Adonai, Eloheinu, melekh ha'olam"
his mother's eyes shining in candlelight
her hands guiding his as he moved the lit shammus from one candle to the next
Erik lit the rightmost candle, as befit the first night of Chanukah, and put the shammus candle back in its place, blinking tears from his eyes. He glanced over at Charles, who looked a little watery himself, and whispered, "Thank you. I wouldn't have done this without... Thank you."
Charles's only reply was to squeeze his hand.
Raven, who had been hanging unsteadily on Erik's trouser leg, strained a hand toward the little flames, bright in the night-shadowed room, and said, softly but very distinctly, "Pretty."
Charles gasped, hand at his mouth, water-bright eyes overflowing.
For a moment Erik just stared down at Raven, while his mind processed the idea that his firstborn child had just spoken her first word.
"Pretty," Raven said again, more insistently, and waved her hand toward the candles.
"It is pretty," Erik said unevenly, picking her up. "Mustn't touch, though, baby. It hurts if you touch."
Raven pouted but let her fingers latch onto Erik's hair instead of the candles. Erik knelt beside Charles's chair, leaning into the hand Charles pressed to his face, and together they watched the candles until they burned out.
***
On Krismas Eve, Erik was invited – very insistently, when he tried to demur – to stay the night in the house proper, and help with the wrapping and arranging of gifts after the children went to bed. Charles seemed excited about the prospect, which was beyond Erik's comprehension, but he stopped protesting after Charles whispered that they would get to stay in his bed for once, which was much larger and softer than Erik's.
"If I can bring my menorah along," he said.
"Of course," said Black Panther. "We can put it up next to the Kwanzaa candles."
It was a pleasant enough evening, much occupied with carols and sweets and games. When night fell, Storm eased the children into sleepiness by telling a half-dozen Krismas tales, both religious and secular in nature. At the end of it, Erik helped carry the slumbering children to their beds, and then the work began.
It was past ten o'clock, and Erik had exchanged many a longsuffering look with Black Panther and Moira, before all was done to Storm and Charles's satisfaction. Erik let himself be escorted to his bedroom, and when he was quite sure of being unobserved, stepped two doors down the corridor and let himself into Charles's.
"A fine joke on me, Charles," he said, sliding under the covers. "I'm far too tired to make any use of this large and comfortable bed."
He was considerably startled when Charles's response was to flinch away with a wet-sounding gasp.
"Charles?"
"Sorry, you startled me," Charles said, thick-voiced.
"Charles, are you crying?"
"No," he said, but his voice broke, and Erik's searching hands found his face wet. Charles sighed. "It's stupid, I know it is. It's just that... tomorrow night will be the last before you have to go back, and I don't even know when I'll see you again, and this has all been so lovely and I don't know how I can bear to give it up, to send you back out onto the battlefield and take the children back to court and dive back into the whole bloody backstabbing mess there. Trying to get anything done in Assembly makes me think of those fish that try to swim back up the river before they spawn, idiots the lot of 'em..."
"You're no idiot, Charles." Erik wrapped himself around him, matching rings pressing into their chests. "And you've already spawned."
The joke won a laugh and a swat on the arm, to Erik's relief, and he busied himself kissing the tear tracks from his husband's face. "As far as the battlefield, don't you dare worry on my account," he murmured against Charles's skin. "We've yet to encounter anything more fearsome than the occasional smuggler or refugee, and mostly we're disinclined to meddle with either."
"I know. I know I'm being stupid, and that it won't be more than a few months, probably." He sighed, long and deep, relaxing against Erik on the exhale. "Sometimes I'm quite sure that if I had any sense, I'd run away – here, or to Asgard, or wherever would take us. But I can't. Not only would Sebastian decimate anyone who took us in, but it would be... it would be letting Sebastian win. Letting him have Genosha all to his sick self to do as he will. As long as I can fight him – I am doing some good, surely I am—"
"Of course you are. Charles, of course you are. I've kept score!" Disquieted, Erik pulled him closer still, stroking his hair and down his back. "Where is all this coming from, Charles?"
"I'm overtired, I suppose," Charles murmured into his chest. "And hungry. You know how I get when I'm hungry."
"You didn't eat much at dinner."
"I wasn't really feeling well. But now I am, and I'm starved."
"I'll bring you something."
"Just some bread, if you would," Charles said sheepishly. "With cheese, lots of cheese. And maybe a mince pie? And some of that orange marshmallow dessert?"
Shaking his head, Erik brought everything requested, and Charles eagerly ate every crumb. It was a joy to watch his enthusiasm and satisfaction, and to feel that for once Erik had done the man he loved some concrete form of good, however small.
"That feels much better," Charles said when the food was gone, and to Erik's surprise he pulled Erik down on top of him with a sly smile. "Now, I believe there was some talk of making use of this remarkably comfortable bed?"
Part of Erik wanted to plead exhaustion, but this was their second-to-last night together for who knew how long, and could he ever be too tired to respond to that sparkle in Charles's eyes?
Maybe someday, he thought, brushing his thumb back and forth across Charles's bottom lip, but not tonight. He bent to replace thumb with lips, Charles's hands tangling in his hair.
Afterward, Erik managed to stay awake just long enough to hear the clock in the hallway chime midnight, and feel the brush of Charles's breath as he whispered, "Merry Krismas, Erik."
"Mrr'Krsma," he mumbled back, and kissed Charles's shoulder, and wondered how he was ever going to bear leaving him again.
***
"Wake up, Papa, wake up! It's Krismas!"
The impact of a knee against his solar plexus had Erik jolting upright with a cough, and only a supreme effort kept his soldier's instincts from loosing themselves on the two little bodies bouncing across the bed.
"Oh, hi, Sir Erik!" Armando cried cheerfully. "I didn't know you were in here. Papa, are you awake?"
"Yes," came the very muffled reply from beneath Charles's pillow.
"Where is you?" Angel said, and began burrowing under the covers.
That wouldn't do at all, since neither of the bodies under those covers had a stitch of clothing on. Erik grabbed Angel and lifted her high in the air, her belly balanced on his hand. She kicked and giggled, clinging to his wrist.
"Are you sick, Papa?" Armando said, lifting the edge of Charles's pillow to peer beneath.
"No, 'Mando, I'm fine," Charles said with a sleepy, resigned chuckle. He unearthed himself from the pillows, groaning, and kissed the boy's forehead. "Did you wake your parents yet?"
"My brothers are doing that. They said 'divide and conquer!'"
"I see. Well, we are now quite awake, and we will join you downstairs as soon as we can get dressed. Go help your brothers, hmm?"
"Sawa sawa!" Armando clambered off the bed, and Angel struggled against Erik's hand, shouting "Down, down!" until Erik set her on the floor to scamper after her brother.
Erik collapsed back into the bed and wrapped his arms around Charles, mashing his face into Charles's chest.
"Wake up, love," Charles chuckled, stroking his hair, "don't you know it's Krismas?"
"I'm Jewish," he mumbled into Charles's collarbone.
"Well, this might be your only chance to get some trousers on before the children expose the evidence of that."
"You're not usually this chipper at dawn."
"It's Krismas morning, Erik! I do hope you got me a good present."
"Here's a present," Erik said, and kissed him.
What he'd intended as a casual, teasing kiss lingered on significantly, while Erik tried not to remember that this time tomorrow morning, he would be reporting to the ship that would take him back to Essex.
The children dove onto their gifts like wolves swarming an elk. Charles left his chair to sit on the floor and help Raven unwrap hers; Erik joined them, letting his shoulder brush Charles's, hanging on his daughter's every change of expression as she examined the colorful wrapping paper, the shape of the box, and finally the wooden bathtub-boat inside, which she immediately began pushing through the sea of discarded paper.
When the children were all occupied with their new toys, the adults began opening theirs, Charles returning to his chair. The Chieftains passed out their offerings first, and Moira looked so surprised and touched at receiving a box of expensive Wakandan sweets that Erik felt a flash of guilt for having bought nothing for her himself. Maybe she wouldn't notice.
Apparently Charles had been right about the value of weaponry as a gift between allies; Erik received a very high-quality longknife, its leather sheath tooled with the crest of House Lehnsherr. Charles's gift was surely even more expensive, a tiny pearl-handled revolver and twelve bullets. It was exactly the sort of thing one could carry about discreetly, just in case of assault by the king's mad bodyguard. Erik approved wholeheartedly.
His matched whetstones were received with gracious enthusiasm, Erik was relieved to note; it seemed he would escape Wakanda without causing an international incident.
He held his breath as he handed Charles the box he'd wrapped in red paper, as neat and sharp as any military man could make it. He'd debated endlessly between three different things for Charles, and finally just gotten all of them – but the others would have to wait.
Charles tore the paper away and gasped, looking suddenly about seven years old, eyes a-glow. "Erik – oh, Erik, is it the blue and gold? Oh you shouldn't have!" The words were belied by his possessive grip on the box as he carefully opened it to pull out a single blue-and-gold tea cup. "Getting a tea-set home intact is going to be a nightmare but oh, Erik, it's beautiful!"
"Charles, you're the Prince Consort. If you tell the ship's captain this box is to be treated gently, he's likely to sleep in a chair and let your tea-set have the bed."
"Don't be ridiculous, Erik," Charles said, but didn't look quite entirely displeased by the idea, turning the tea-cup toward the light and regarding it with shining eyes and bitten lip.
"I think you chose well," Storm murmured in Erik's ear, looking amused.
"I think I did, too," Erik replied, and pretended he meant the tea-set.
“And Moira, this is for you,” Charles handed her a package, “from me and Erik.”
Moira’s arched eyebrow said she wasn’t fooled, but she opened and cooed over the jeweled bracelet with every appearance of delight.
Finally, then, Erik had his own gift from Charles heavy in his hands – very heavy, in fact, and cylindrical, with a rather ridiculous bow on top. Erik grinned, suspecting the contents, and quickly ripped it open.
Yes. It was coffee, his favorite roast, the largest tin of it he had ever held.
“Sir Erik has told me at some length about how difficult it is to get decent coffee at his post in Essex,” Charles said smugly to their hosts, while Erik fought not to visibly hug the tin. He could already taste it, hot and sharp in his mouth while the rising sun pulled steam off the grass at his feet – and his men looked on in rank jealousy because Erik did not intend to share.
It took hours to get the children ready to greet the day – every attempt to get them washed, groomed, and decently clothed was derailed by the siren call of their new toys. Only their traditional flapjack breakfast successfully distracted them from it, and Erik, helping Moira clean a layer of maple syrup, powdered sugar, and whipped cream off a squirming Raven, thought perhaps that did more harm than good. Storm and Black Panther, who normally enforced high expectations for their children's behavior, today only smiled and rolled their eyes as their little ones ran amok.
"Are you still sure you want to raise the children with a Krismas tradition?" Erik muttered to Charles as Angel, Raven and Armando ran past, screaming at the tops of their lungs with Armando's new toy birds held over their heads and half-buttoned clothes hanging off their bodies.
"Of course!" Charles said, eyes shining, "Look how much fun they're having!" and Erik could only palm his face in resigned disgust.
When the children were at length ready to leave the house, everyone was loaded into the open-topped carriage, bundled with hats and coats and blankets 'til they could hardly move (the temperature having dropped sharply since Erik's arrival), and taken round what felt like all of Yakuti Bay, for the Chieftains to wave and exchange Krismas greetings with their people. The town was a riot of decoration – strings of lights, banners and flags, bells and candles and little houses made of sweets. Despite himself, Erik was entertained by it all. More importantly, he got to spend a few hours snuggled under a blanket with Charles, with Hank squirming in his arms and Raven staring around in wide-eyed wonder until she fell asleep in Charles's lap.
Even the church service that followed was less boring than Erik had feared; the building had lovely stained-glass windows, they were given hot chocolate and frosted cakes as they came in the door, and watching Storm's increasingly irate attempts to keep her husband awake was entertainment all in itself. Eventually the droning sermon gave way to a bell-ringing choir, which woke the children (and Black Panther) and provided music considerably more lovely than Erik expected. He was a little sorry when it finally ended.
By then, it was nearing dinner-time, sunlight draining from the sky in pink streaks, and they were all very glad of the blankets heaped in the carriage. The lights on the roofs and trees showed to much better advantage in the creeping darkness.
"It's so lovely," Charles mumbled, leaning sleepily against Erik's shoulder.
Erik put an arm around his shoulders, tucking him in close, and after a glance around, dared to kiss his forehead. "Beautiful," he agreed, and pretended he meant the lights.
After an excellent dinner, Erik felt his face freeze at the mention of another church service. Storm laughed.
"You do not have to come, Sir Erik. I know you and Charles and Lady Moira are not accustomed to our ways. You may stay here and rest."
"I would like to come to the service, actually, if you don't mind," Moira said, to Erik's surprise.
So Erik and Charles found themselves left to their own devices, curled up in Charles's comfortable bed with Charles spooned against Erik's chest, their sleeping children spooned against his in turn, and Erik's arm around them all.
"I have more presents for you," Erik admitted sleepily. "Shall I go fetch them?"
"While you're up you can fetch the rest of mine for you," Charles chuckled. "But not yet. This is too comfortable." As if to emphasize, he wriggled backward a bit, further into Erik's arms, and Erik was happy to snuggle in closer, dotting kisses along his husband's neck and shoulder.
Twelve hours. Less than twelve hours before he had to be at the dock, boarding a ship bound for Essex. And only a few days after that before Charles and the children returned to Genosha.
"I wish you could just stay here," he said. "I know you can't. But it drives me half-mad to think of you and the children anywhere near Victor Creed. As if Sebastian weren't bad enough."
"We'll be all right, Erik."
He couldn't, Erik noted, offer any evidence to back up that statement. "Don't be afraid to use that gun if necessary," Erik said.
"To be honest, it terrifies to think of keeping a gun in the same room as four children. I can't possibly have it easily accessible, which rather limits its emergency usefulness." He sighed. "I shouldn't have even told you that. I should have told you I'd sleep with it loaded under my pillow every night."
Erik bit his ear gently. "No, you should not have told me that. Don't lie to me."
"I don't."
"Keep the door locked at all times. The balcony, too, at night."
"The balcony? Really, Erik, he'd have to climb the bloody wall—"
"Please. Just lock it. Don't ever get caught alone with him. Never let him into your rooms. Make sure Moira doesn't either."
"Erik." Charles laced their fingers together and kissed the back of Erik's hand. "I don't want you to worry about me."
Erik closed his eyes, took a deep breath of the scent of Charles's hair. "Then you shouldn't have let me fall in love with you. You have people you can go to, if you need help, right? New Brooklyn, Romanova, Coulson?"
"Yes. And I will go to them the moment I need to, I promise."
Hank chose that moment to wake and begin fretting for his dinner. Erik helped Charles get into a sitting position without jostling Raven and settled Hank into his arms. Then, since their comfortable tableau was broken anyway, he retrieved their Krismas presents from their hiding places in Charles's closet and his separate cottage.
When he stepped back into Charles’s bedroom, he had to stop a moment to simply look. Lamplight painted the room in shades of gold and shadow. Raven had shifted to throw her arm over her papa’s leg and bury her face in it. Hank was fussing, knotted feet kicking inside his bundle of blankets, and Charles, shirt unbuttoned, was murmuring down at him in some kind of cross between teasing and adoration, hair falling in his eyes.
Everything in the world Erik truly loved was in this room, and he was expected to leave it.
How many times would they have the conversation, with each other and with themselves, and every time be forced to conclude that, though the price of appeasing Sebastian be high, the price of defying him would be higher still? How long before they simply broke, and leaped to at least trade their accustomed torments for different ones?
Shaking those dark thoughts from his mind, Erik stepped into the room and set the gifts out on the foot of the bed.
Charles laughed and rolled his eyes to see how they had both gone a little overboard. "Open yours first, love, since I'm a trifle occupied."
Erik looked down at the presents awaiting him, and thought at last he understood something of why the children had anticipated this event with such excitement, and woken their parents at dawn to speed it along. After a moment's pointless dithering, he chose one of the two at random and tore the paper away.
Inside was a mahogany box, inlaid with vines and flowers of gold. It opened to reveal a half-dozen pockets, drawers, and trays containing pens, inkwells, blotting powder, envelopes, postage stamps, and a thick pad of stationery.
"A writing box," Erik said, stroking the glossy wood and metal admiringly. "Charles, is this your subtle way of asking me to write more often?"
Charles grinned. "I only wish you to never have a reason not to write to me, love."
"Writing to you is by far the most pleasant of my many tasks, I assure you," Erik said, leaning down to kiss Charles's forehead. "Many times, the thought of complaining to you of events is what enables me to bear them!"
He would have kissed him more thoroughly, then, but Charles batted him playfully away. "Go on, open your last gift."
The last gift was, of course, a book. The size and shape of it gave that away, even if Erik had not seen Charles sneaking one to a shopworker to be wrapped. Which book, of course, he couldn't say, except that it was immensely thick and heavy.
Tearing the wrapping paper away revealed that the book, leatherbound and very, very old, possibly pre-Virus, was The Complete Lord of the Rings Trilogy, by J.R.R. Tolkien.
"Is this the one you told me of, ages ago?" Erik asked, flipping through it with interest – and care of the fragile pages. "With the line about people who deserve life or death? Are you still trying to make me believe the world would not be immensely better without Sebastian Shaw in it?"
"Yes to the first, no to the second," Charles said with a rueful chuckle. "I think you'll enjoy it, Erik. I see something in you, at times, of Aragorn son of Arathorn, the exiled king. He is a brave warrior and fierce protector of his people."
King. If only. The idea of shouldering Sebastian aside, taking everything that was his for Erik’s own – his consort, his supposed children, his power to wage war and grind Genosha under his boot – to be safe at last, to make his family and his country safe—
A ridiculous dream to indulge in, and a dangerous one. Erik made an effort to shake it off, focus on the book he had been given. He flipped through the pages again, taking note of the lovely, delicate illustrations spaced throughout – a house in the side of a hill, an ominous black tower, a spider larger than a man – and found an inscription on a blank page at the very end, a single line written in Charles’s hand.
"What's this?"
"You weren't supposed to find that until you finished the book," Charles said with a pout. "It's just a line of poetry – I learned it somewhere ages and ages ago, I've no idea what poem it came from, some ancient pre-Virus thing, and I… I tend to think of it a lot when you're around."
Erik traced his fingers across the handwritten line – I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach – and swallowed sudden, mortifying tears. "Open mine, then, it's your turn," he rasped.
Charles grinned, his gaze turning from glowing affection to twinkling childish glee, and shuffled Hank so he could extend a greedy hand toward his gifts. "The big one first!"
One-handed, he managed to wrangle the paper from the package, but could not unseal the box. Erik stepped in, and Charles's mouth formed an O as he lifted the expanse of blue silk out of its package.
"What is that, Erik?"
Erik just smirked and lay the nightgown up the length of Charles's body, covering right over Hank. "Do you see the embroidery at the collar? I thought you would like that. And it's very… easy to get in and out of." He pulled the kimono-esque gown open as a demonstration.
Charles blushed, and if his smile wavered a little, possibly on the thought of how very little opportunity they would have to enjoy that, Erik smothered it in a kiss that went on until Charles's inattention allowed Hank to detach from his dinner and begin to fuss.
One last present to open, and Erik was tempted to spirit it away, hide it, refuse to let Krismas be over so quickly. But the hours would pass anyway, and tomorrow arrive unimpeded. Erik took a deep breath and helped Charles tear the paper.
Within lay a pair of shoes, cut from the finest leather in light brown on the upper half and dark brown below, with a line of bold golden buttons up the side.
"I measured your feet myself while you slept," Erik said. "I expect, you understand, that the ones you've been wearing will be worn to flinders fairly soon."
Charles, to his astonishment, dissolved entirely into tears at this – not the mere glimmers of appreciation and excitement he had shown before, but honest weeping, which he immediately tried to hide behind a sudden attention to the baby.
"Charles?" Uncertain whether to be alarmed, Erik set the shoes down and hurried to Charles's side, gathering him as close to his chest as he could without dislodging Hank.
"They're beautiful, Erik," Charles said between sobs, pressing his face hard into Erik's collar.
Raven, awakened by the noise, crawled up to them and pawed at Erik's arm, babbling in distress.
"It's all right, lovey, Papa's fine, I'm just happy," Charles said, kissing the crown of her head.
Erik wrapped his arms around all three of them, buried his face in their mingled scents, and there they stayed until the lamp burned out and they heard the unwelcome voices and footsteps of the others returning from church.
***
Krismas night wound down with an excellent dinner, a few last carols, and a blessing at the doorway whose purpose Erik didn't entirely follow, and then the lengthy process of readying for bed.
Nine hours before Erik left Wakanda. Eight. Seven.
Six hours, and the house was finally dark and quiet, Hank and Raven fast asleep in their Wakandan-style bedside baskets, and he and Charles were at last able to put the blue silk kimono to its intended use. It hurt to see how well Charles, so naturally enthusiastic, had learned to keep himself quiet in moments when such worries should have been far from his mind; this was their life together, every moment a theft that dared not be discovered. But if he was unnaturally silent, still his eyes glowed and his nails dug into Erik's skin, a pain Erik arched into eagerly, greedy for a mark to remember this by.
Afterward Erik stroked Charles's back, slow and sleepy, and kissed the fingertips Charles trailed over his face.
"I don't want to go to sleep," Charles whispered. "I don't want it to be morning."
"I know," Erik whispered back, wishing he could offer something more comforting. "It's just for a few months. I'll have another furlough in a few months. And he can't keep me in Essex forever."
"He already has. Forever and a half, at least."
Erik muffled a chuckle in his husband's hair. "Sleep, Charles. You're going to need all your strength in the morning."
At length the man in his arms grew boneless and relaxed, breath whistling just slightly, like a baby bird -- and Erik was about to drift off on that sentimental thought when one of the babies began to cry.
Erik was groggy enough that he staggered first to the wrong basket, and fumbled a hand over baby Hank, who fortunately slept through the event without a twitch. By the time Erik made it to Raven's basket, she was sitting up and screaming.
"Papa! Papa!"
'Papa' had been the first word Raven picked up after 'pretty.' She'd also taken to calling Moira 'Mama,' which they weren't sure how to address.
"No, no, baby, don't wake Papa." He rocked her against his bare chest, shushing her as he'd seen Charles do, and she clung to him, still crying and babbling urgently. "Bad dream," he guessed. "Shush, baby, just a dream, it's all right, Da—" He bit off the words Daddy's here, with a jolt of pain that seemed to stretch out to his toes and fingertips.
Raven and Hank could never call him Daddy. No one could know Sebastian wasn't their father – perhaps not even they themselves. When Charles had first conceived Raven, he'd sworn to Erik their little one would know her true parentage, but it was madness to think of entrusting so dire a secret to a child. She would have to be ten or twelve at least – old enough to understand the vital importance of discretion – before she could know. "I'm here," he whispered into her hair, while she gradually calmed. "I love you, Raven."
She snuffled against his neck, and fell quiet, her tiny hands fumbling at his chest.
"I can't nurse you, sweetheart," Erik whispered, "but you're all right. Shhh, you're fine, you're fine."
After a minute, Raven heaved a heavy sigh, as if finally letting go of her nightmare, and relaxed against Erik's chest, raising a hand to pat at his face.
"Baba."
At first Erik thought it was a tear-clogged version of 'Papa,' and paid it little mind. If she were older, it might sting that she preferred one parent to the other, but she was a baby; Charles was there taking care of her every day, and he wasn't.
But she said it again, looking directly at Erik, and it was clearly 'Baba.' Something in the way she lengthened the vowels was very different than when she said Papa, almost like a Wakandan accent. 'Baba' was what the Chieftains' children called their father.
"Baba," Raven repeated, patting his face again.
His throat closing entirely, Erik caught her little hand and kissed it. "Yes, I'm your Baba," he whispered. "And you're my baby. My Raven. Mine."
***
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach.
Erik read the inscription over and over, long into the night, and first thing when he woke in the morning, when the entire family showed him to the dock and waved him farewell as his ship left the harbor. Erik stood at the rail and kept his eyes on the knot of paler faces in the crowd, Charles with Raven standing in his lap, Moira holding Hank up and waving his little hand, until they faded from view.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach.
The words sustained him until Yakuti Bay, and in fact all land of any stripe, had passed beyond sight, before the light they kindled inside him was finally overshadowed and lost.
***
By the time they boarded the ship back to Genosha, Charles was almost as anxious to return to court as he was to avoid it. He spent the journey trying to get his head back into the political game. For nearly eight weeks, he had not had to think of Sebastian at all, had not had to consider the ramifications of every word and glance like a chess move. Who knew that visiting foreign heads of state could be so much more relaxing than diplomacy at home? Storm and Black Panther were both highly intelligent, but straightforward, with little patience for games of intrigue. Which wasn't to say there hadn't been unpleasant moments – mostly awkwardness over parenting Armando and Angel, as was surely inevitable under the circumstances. But when Charles declined dessert, there was no move to, say, call it a Genoshan insult to Wakandan hospitality; it was simply Charles declining dessert. He wished fervently that his fellow Assembly-members were that sensible.
Of course, though Charles would have liked to spend the entire time giving no thought to politics at all, he knew it would be disastrous to let the game get ahead of him. So there had been progress reports from a variety of sources (some official, some emphatically not) and he had even been able to head off a problem or two through written advice to his allies. On his return to court and Assembly, the Duke of Westchester would not be blindsided by any of the tricks Sebastian and his cronies had planned. He would come out of the gate at a dead run.
And so Charles spent most of the voyage holed up in his well-appointed cabin, studying voting histories and the fine print of old laws, while Moira looked after the children and tried to coax food down Charles's throat. That last proved difficult; perhaps due to the ever-tightening stress of going home, or the amount of time in the stuffy cabin, Charles was exponentially more seasick than usual. Some days all he could keep down was a steady stream of tea served from the tea-set Erik had given him for Krismas.
He tried to think of Erik as little as possible. During the day, he was busy enough to succeed, more or less; at night, when he put on the blue silk pajamas Erik had dressed him in, and then removed with lingering, caressing delicacy on Krismas night, it grew far more difficult. He took to letting the fosterlings sleep in the bed with him, so he wouldn't feel quite so alone.
Of Victor Creed, the most urgent reason for their flight to Wakanda, Charles did not think at all. If he had the occasional nightmare about terrified dogs trying to outrun the flames on their skin, he refused to remember them.
"There's a note here from Dr. Henri," Moira said, when they achieved their rooms at the palace at long last. The children were running to and fro noisily, excited to be back among their familiar toys and furniture; Raven did a sort of dance as she rediscovered a half-forgotten doll. "He says you're overdue for your Cleansing."
"I know. I was due when we left." Charles collapsed very carefully into a chair. His crutches had gotten him all the way from the carriage to the rooms, one of the longest distances he'd used them for, and his trembling muscles were now calling it quits. "Ring for tea, won't you, Moira? Now that we're on solid ground at last, I think I could down the entirety of a banquet table."
"Shall I reply to Dr. Henri?" Moira said as she reached for the bell-pull.
"I'll do it in a bit. He won't be very happy with me; there'll be another fortnight's delay before I can consider it."
"You'll make yourself ill, Charles!"
"The Cleansing will make me ill and no mistake! I've only just gotten back, I can't afford to be bedridden for a month." A woman's reproductive system was self-regulating, cleansing itself every month or so; androji were not so lucky. An androji's annual Cleansing was the result of medical intervention, and meant three weeks or more of debilitating abdominal pain, nausea, migraines, fatigue, and emotional turbulence sometimes bordering on psychosis. Moira had told him, in some horror, that it looked something like all twelve of a woman's yearly cycles experienced at once.
"Two weeks from now," Moira said now. "No longer. I certainly understand that you don't look forward to it, Charles, but if you leave it too long..."
"Yes, yes." Too long a delay would mean the internal decay of the outworn eggs and placental lining, which could get ugly or even fatal very quickly. But doctors had confided to him before that the buffer period was longer than most people supposed, and anyway there would be warning symptoms before it got that serious. "No longer than two weeks. Make the appointment for me if it makes you feel better."
"I will," Moira said darkly, and tucked Dr. Henri's note into her own pocket.
He used the fortnight wisely. He shored up the fledgling Romanova-Potts Women's Education Act through Sebastian's blatant attempt to dismantle it, rescued Baron Coulson from the king's wrath with some well-placed blackmail, and if he could not prevent the king's appointment of a brutal and bigoted judge, he did at least manage to sneak in his own candidate as the judge's head clerk, where he could do something to mitigate the man's cruelty. In the meantime, Raven was now talking ceaselessly, seeming to learn a new word every day, and Hank had begun attempting to crawl. Charles received a letter from Erik through the Moira-Logan pipeline, which had him smiling for days, and though his encounters with Sebastian and Sir Victor were nauseating, neither of them attempted, for now, to interact with him outside of Assembly and the banquet hall.
One advantage of his Cleansing, he reflected dispiritedly as he arranged himself on the bed for Dr. Henri's visit, was he could be sure that the king wouldn't dare visit him until he was returned to full health. Sebastian, like many of his sort, considered the symptoms of Cleansing to be a sign that androji were weak and faintly unnatural. During the five miserable years of their marriage before Raven's conception, Charles had almost looked forward to Cleansing, as the one time Sebastian was certain to avoid him as scrupulously as a plague victim.
"Good morning, Your Highness," said Dr. Henri, entering with a bow. "I'm very pleased you found time in your busy schedule to let me see to you." His voice was shaded just slightly with rebuke, and Charles hung his head sheepishly.
"Timing, you know, doctor. One must make preparation for being more or less out of the world for weeks at a time."
"It will only be the worse for having put it off. But there, it's your own decision, of course. Let's not delay it any further." Dr. Henri began setting out the necessary supply of instruments and equipment. They made conversation about Raven and the doctor's infant namesake, then Charles's progress with the crutches, while Dr. Henri drew blood to test for various levels of hormone, that he might calculate the precise dosages Charles would need of the various Cleansing chemicals.
"If you can keep your walking practice steady and frequent, the underarm soreness will fade," Dr. Henri said absently, examining the blood test results. "Not soon enough for your preference, I'm sure, but there..." He went suddenly silent.
"Doctor?" Charles said after a moment.
"I'm very sorry, Your Highness, I believe I shall need another blood sample."
"Is something wrong?"
"Just an... irregular result. It could be an error. I beg you will pardon me from answering until I am quite sure."
He drew more blood, and they waited in tense silence for the result.
Dr. Henri let out a long, unhappy breath. "I was right, then. Your Highness, I'm afraid the results are quite certain. You are with child."
Charles just stared at him for several moments. Then a hysterical laugh bubbled up his throat. A dozen little things about the last weeks were suddenly cast into relief – his mood swings and fatigue, his alternating nausea and insatiable hunger. "Oh. Oh, I have been quite an idiot. I have been an idiot, why didn't we – but I've never not been trying to get pregnant, I didn't even think of..." He managed, with difficulty, to swallow a crow of You see, Sebastian, it doesn't take much at all for me to conceive, just more than YOU!
"You're about five weeks along, Your Highness."
Charles sobered, or tried to, though strangled giggles kept working their way out. Five weeks, and he'd been back in Genosha only two. Obvious to the good doctor, then, that this was no child of Sebastian's, though he suspected Henri had deduced much of the truth already. Only a three-week gap to the public, which would go unnoticed; he could already hear the tittering gossips calling the pregnancy proof of how much the king had missed his consort. Sebastian, though...
Charles lost all desire to laugh. There would be no fooling Sebastian. He had not authorized this pregnancy.
"Your Highness, I..." Dr. Henri swallowed, lifted his chin. "Tell me what you want me to do, Your Highness."
Charles knew what he was offering. It was strictly forbidden for a doctor to perform a Cleansing on a pregnant androji, and the penalty if he was found out would be steep indeed – the loss of his medical license, at the very least. It was a great risk that this man was offering to take for him.
And oh, the idea was tempting, Charles admitted in some dark corner of his mind. Tears stung in his eyes. He didn't want to be pregnant, he was so tired of being pregnant, and he nearly choked on terror, thinking of what Sebastian might do when he found out. Everything they most feared might come to pass– himself and Erik dead, the children exiled, Genosha left to Sebastian's uncontrolled clutches. Surely it made no difference to the growing child whether he died now or when Sebastian beat Charles to bloody fragments.
At the mere thought of that future beating, Charles could feel his arms folding across his middle, as if to protect the baby. He couldn't bear this, he couldn't. However tiny and half-formed it was now, he couldn't stand to think of harm coming to this baby, his own child and Erik's, the most sacred thing thing this world had to offer, as beautiful and precious as Raven and Hank… There had to be another way.
Charles buried his face in his hands, felt his own breath coming fast and hard against his palms. There had to be another way. That Charles would bear another child was inevitable – Sebastian still had no heir. This child could easily be the son Sebastian hungered for, the key to a new future, and Charles would ten thousand times rather he were Erik's son than Victor Creed's. The problem was how to make Sebastian think this one was Victor Creed's, and conceived on his own command. If he acted quickly, very very quickly, with the doctor's cooperation, the time gap might be covered. But speed would be hard to manage; the doctors had made it clear to Sebastian that conceiving again this quickly could be dangerous to Charles's health. He would be terribly suspicious of Charles suddenly speeding up the timetable. Difficult, this would be difficult – but not as difficult as killing his child.
"Thank you for your faithful service, Dr. Henri," Charles murmured, touching the doctor's hand, "but it will not be needed today. There are other ways to handle the situation."
He straightened his spine even as he swallowed bile. Charles would do what was necessary to keep his baby alive - even lie with Victor Creed, and beg Sebastian for the privilege. |
When the sergeant told me I was getting a new partner, I figured it would be a guy. So when Ingrid came walking into the room, my jaw nearly dropped. She was a plain looking woman, but she was tall, maybe an inch over six feet, with short, blond hair and a hard body that curved in all the right places. I knew I was going to have a tough time keeping my mind on the job and an even harder time keeping my cock from giving away the impact this German woman was having on me.
After a month of working together, I had quickly learned that Ingrid was a tough, no-nonsense woman, and a good cop. But that didn't mean I still didn't want her body like crazy, if fact it had only increased my desires. Often after our shift, I'd find the nearest private spot and beat off, thinking about having Ingrid in bed with me. I didn't want to make a move because we worked together, but damn I wanted her bad.
We were on a stakeout, holed up in a hotel room for three days. I was going crazy having her so close for so long, and not wanting to be “unprofessional” by trying to do something about it…. that is until Ingrid took the matter into her hands on the second day. She was having a shower to freshen up and surprised me by coming out of the shower with just a towel wrapped around her hard muscular body, I was absolutely stunned when she deliberately let the big fluff towel drop to the floor. As she strode over to me, her body still glistening with water and her large tits mesmerizing me as they swayed in time with her steps……. She forcefully pushed me onto the bed and then straddled me…..
"I'm tired of working," she said. "We’re taking a break." And then, just like that, she leaned down and kissed me. I moaned and wrapped my arms around her, pulling her down firmly to feel those wonderful tits against my body, to feel her large erect nipples…. My cock began to throb against the constraints of my clothes. Her body was warm against mine, and she humped her hips up and down over my cock, making it pulse even more urgently.
Ingrid ripped off my clothes and when I tried to get up she savagely pushed me back onto the bed. She climbed up over my face and pushed her wide open and shaven cunt over my face. Without stopping to think, I opened my mouth and began to hungrily suck, and lick her large fleshy pussy lips. Her clit was like a miniature cock and it was flushed red and beckoning me like a beacon. I had to…... I sucked it into my mouth and gently bit it… She loved it, she began shouting in German, her pleasure obvious and she began bucking her hips, forcing her pussy to open wider against my face. Soon I was swirling my tongue around her wide open slit, slurping greedily from her puckering anus to her “little dick” and pushing my tongue right inside, making it stiff and fucking her generous pussy… Her juices were gushing over my cheeks, my heart and my dick were both pounding, and I was in heaven.
Or at least I thought I was until she suddenly stood up and with a huge grin on her face swung round and sank down guiding my rock hard dick deep into her welcoming pussy. The heat and wetness was intense, I’d never felt my 10” cock enter a women so easily, yet she was effortlessly able to squeeze and hold my throbbing cock with her vaginal muscles. God I was so glad that earlier that day I had snuck into the bathroom to beat off or I would have lost it and spurted within the first 60 seconds.
Ingrid began to slide very slowly up and down my stick, moaning all the while, lost in her own world of pleasure. Every time I attempted to move my hands to her tits she slapped them away…. She was using me…… and it was clear I was to lay back and let her set the pace. I could feel my dick and balls were now completely coated with her juices, and the combination her very slow movement and total control of what I was able to do was generating intense sensations. My cock felt bigger and harder than it had ever been in my entire life.
After what seemed like an eternity Ingrid grabbed me and then rolled over, pulling me on top of her, my dick still embedded deeply in her quivering cunt. She pulled her legs back and put them over my shoulders, allowing my cock to penetrate even deeper inside her welcoming pussy. Ingrid fucked back against me as quickly as I thrust into her, she was urging me to fuck harder and faster, she was thrashing her head about as I began panting and sweating with my efforts, and I could feel my climax beginning to boil. Soon I would be spurting my cum deep into this German fucking machine. Ingrid was moaning loudly and she began repeating over and over "Give me your cum,"
Hearing my sexy partner say these words was the last straw, it drove me over the edge, and my cock spurted what seemed like gallons of my hot seed into her clenching pussy. Wave after wave of pleasure surged through me and as this began to subside I could see (and feel) that Ingrid was having a huge climax….
I rolled off her and closed my eyes to savor what had just happened and the wonderful after feeling…. But Ingrid hadn’t finished…. First I felt her lips encompass my flaccid and cum soaked cock… and then she straddled me… her distended pussy flaps dripping our juices all over my face… smothering me… inviting me to lick, to suck…. and to clean her….. simultaneously I was disgusted and excited, my sexual lust boiled to the surface. I could feel my cock rapidly hardening as I ravenously licked and sucked… as I did so I developed an overwhelming urge to take back control and get really “nasty” with this blond white woman.
As we 69’ed each other I wet my fingers with her juices and slowly began inserting them into her puckering brown hole…. My plan was clear…….. her ass was going to be mine…. I was going to fuck this white woman’s ass with my 10” black cock…
|
This is a continuing story from parts 1 and 2. It is better understood if the reader reads both parts, but it can still stand on its own. It is a story of a love and sex starved Italian woman, Maria Martinelli whose husband, Guido, divorced her after nineteen years of marriage. She had become somewhat buxom although not obese after bearing three children, and he had lost sexual interest in her as he had come to desire the skinny type of woman. For the last ten years of their marriage, they rarely had sex and when it was done then, it usually was after he came home drunk and took her without foreplay and love and just ejaculated in her.
Her three children, Guido jr, Lisa and Anita had all graduated from college and left home in pursuit of their careers. She was an empty nester, divorced and alone but still sensual enough to want sex. She had a black coworker, Ralph Bender who she never considered sexually before she was divorced, but fate threw them together one snowy day when school was out, and she was stuck in the parking lot because her car wouldn't start. Ralph came to her rescue, but because of icy roads he couldn't take her home, so he took her to his home and so the story goes.
The Stallion - Part 3
Half an hour later, Maria lay sprawled underneath Ralph, her pussy still gaping and leaking a mixture of her juices and Ralph's cum onto the sheets. She loved the feeling of his body on hers. His cock though no longer hard was still large enough to remain lodged inside her.
She groaned with exhaustion, her pussy sore, her belly tender and her heart so full of love for Ralph that tears began to seep from her eyes. She started to sob and Ralph, alarmed that he had hurt her, withdrew quickly and pulled her into his arms.
"I'm sorry if I hurt you baby, I didn't mean to. I know that I got a bit carried away and pounded you a bit hard, but I never meant to hurt you." Ralph whispered.
"N-n-no-o-o, Ralph, you didn't hurt me," she wept.
"So why are you crying?" he asked.
"B-b-e-e-e-c-a-u-s-s-se you were so go-good to me," she stuttered.
Ralph was really confused, but before he could ask her what she meant she said,
"I'm not used to being loved and treated like I am worth anything, but that is all that you have done since I've been here. I wanted you to fuck me, thinking that you would just have your way with me like Guido did, and I would go home, knowing what it was like to get blacked and that would be it. B-B-but-t you made me feel like a woman, one that meant something to you, not just someone to screw like a piece of meat.
I had always heard how cold black men could be when it came to sex, and that pussy was all that was important to them and I was expecting that from you, but you made me feel different."
"Oh, Thank God," Ralph muttered in relief.
"I thought that I had hurt you. One of the reasons that I don't keep girlfriends long is because I sometimes get carried away when I am having sex, and given the size of my dick, a lot of the women enjoy it one time but don't want to come back after their first experience."
"Oh no," Maria responded, "I love that big cock. I have spent so many years getting a cock that I could never feel that I wish I could keep this one forever!"
Maria raised her tear-stained face up to Ralph and said,
"You don't know what it means to me to feel loved."
Ralph leaned into her and softly kissed her. Her body shuddered with a mini-orgasm that unexpectedly slipped out of her. He laughed and said,
"You still cumming?"
"Uh-h-huh," she giggled.
"You can have this big cock as long as you want it," Ralph responded and pulled her tight to him.
Maria snuggled to his chest pecking at his throat and shoulders and feeling that she had died and gone to heaven.
They fell asleep, Maria wrapped in Ralph's powerful arms, feeling safe from anything that the world had to throw at her.
When she opened her eyes, Ralph was no longer in the bed. She got up, not even thinking about putting on any clothes and walked to the bathroom. She sat on the commode and started peeing. She winced as her pussy burned a little and her tummy was a little sore.
She finished, patted herself dry and went to the sink. Thoughtful as always, Ralph had left a new toothbrush for her.
"He is something else," she murmured.
After brushing her teeth and washing her face, she turned the shower on and after the warm water came, she stepped in. She let the warm water cascade over her, from head to toe. Her nipples were a little tender as she soaped them and so was her pussy, but it was a delightful reminder of what Ralph had given her a few hours before.
Her lips and tongue also reminded her that Ralph had taken her. She hummed happily as she washed her hair, then turned the water off and pulled the shower curtain back looking for "her" towel. She smiled to herself thinking that after one night she was laying claim to a towel in Ralph's home.
After she was through drying her skin and hair, she walked into the kitchen unabashedly naked, knowing that in it, there was a man who didn't find her hips and ass too big. In fact, he loved them like that.
When he saw her, he smiled,
"Hey, sunshine, you hungry?"
"Uh...hmm. I didn't know that sex make you so hungry." She responded.
He laughed and set a cup of coffee for her on the table. He had fried bacon and eggs and made pancakes.
She looked at him and saw his large cock hanging between his legs, pointedly looked at it, licked her lips and giggled,
"Oh yes, I could eat!"
"Food," he laughed," I mean food!"
"That too," she smiled.
They sat down to breakfast and ate until they were both satisfied.
"Well, the news says that the streets are passable, so I guess that we need to go back to the school and get your car started," he said.
"She knew that she had to do that but it kind of made her sad. It meant going home to an empty house and not knowing if Ralph would call her, or if she should call him or was this just a one-night stand with wonderful memories.
She washed the dishes up and put them away in the cabinet and then went to get dressed. On her way to the bedroom, she saw the black t-shirt lying on the floor where she had tossed it. She rolled it up, took it to the bedroom and put it into her handbag. If nothing else developed between she and Ralph, she wanted something to keep from this wonderful night.
When she came back to the living room, Ralph was also dressed. She slipped her high heels back on as they were where she left them at the front door. Ralph had already started the car and it was warm when she entered. She sat quietly as he drove back to the school. Ralph noticed that she was somewhat quiet and wondered what was going on in her mind.
When they reached the parking lot, he told her to stay in his car, while he opened the hood of her car and attached the jumper cables. He then asked her for her car keys, and she couldn't help but chuckle watching him try to put his big body into her little Toyota Corolla. It reminded her of the effort that he had to make to get his cock into her pussy. He cranked the engine twice and it started.
After disconnecting the cables, he closed the hood and told her to let it run a bit before getting into it as the inside needed to warm up. After about five minutes he told her that the inside should be warm now and that she could get in her car.
She gathered her purse, folders and papers and got into her car. Before she could close the door, he said,
"I'd love to kiss you now, but I don't know who might be watching and we do have to work here next week but call me and let me know that you got home safely."
She realized that she didn't have his phone number and said to him,
"Call me now at 555-6969 so that I will have your number."
He did and she looked at her cell phone and said,
"Your number is there; I will call you when I get home."
"Drive safely," he cautioned but he couldn't help seeing how sad her face looked.
When she arrived at her house, she removed her clothes slipped on a sweat suit, put away her purse and papers to look at later, and reached for the phone. Before she could dial Ralph's number, the phone rang. It was Paula. Her house was obliquely across the street from Maria's, so she saw when her car pulled up.
"Hey girl, I see you made it home," Paula said." I hope that you didn't waste that dicking opportunity," and laughed uproariously.
"Paula," she said, "you are nothing but a horny old ho, but we will talk about it later."
"I guess that means that we got dicked," Paula affirmed. "You got to tell me about it."
For the next half hour, Paula cajoled her and teased her until she was convinced that Ralph and Maria had made love.
"I am so glad for you," Paula shared, "If anyone deserves a good and satisfying dicking, you do. I'll come by later and you can fill me in with the important parts."
"Goodbye," Paula, Maria chuckled," you know too much already."
"Did he have a really big dick?" Paula asked.
"Paula! Goodbye," and hung up laughing.
Maria walked into her bedroom, lay across the bed and fell into an exhausted sleep. Six hours later she awoke and lay in bed, recalling what a wonderful time she had with Ralph and then it dawned upon her that Ralph had told her to call when she got home.
"Oh, shit," shrieked Maria, "I forgot to call Ralph."
She grabbed her cell phone and quickly dialed him. The phone rang and rang but Ralph did not answer. She hung up and redialed, but he still did not answer. Dejectedly she went into the family room, picked up the folder and papers and sat down to grade them.
"I guess he really didn't want to talk to me," she figured, "he must have been just being nice."
Meanwhile, Ralph had waited for two hours for Maria to call and when she didn't, he fell into an exhausted sleep himself, thinking that she had gotten blacked and that was what she really wanted and all the other stuff that she had said was just bull shit.
Sunday came and neither called the other, each one thinking that the other really was just being nice. On Monday they both returned to school but since neither one looked for the other and they didn't run into each other unexpectedly, they didn't talk.
Tuesday through Friday the same scenario was enacted. Finally, Maria decided that she had to know what he felt and drove to his home on Friday evening after work.
She parked outside and waited for him to come home. He arrived about 9:30 pm. When he pulled his car into the driveway, she got out of her car and walked up to him and said,
"Can we talk?"
Surprised he responded,
"Talk if you want to."
"Can we go inside, please?" she asked.
As he opened the door, a woman's voice inside called out,
"Ralphie is that you?"
Before he could respond, she turned and ran back to her car, started it and shot down the street. She sobbed all the way home. When Paula saw her car pull up outside of her house, she walked over to it and saw Maria crying her heart out.
"What's the matter, Sweetheart?" she asked.
Maria just doubled over the steering wheel and wailed.
I-I-I thoug-g-h-t that I meant something him," she said, "I really thought that I meant s-s-som-mething!"
"What happened?" asked Paula.
"I stopped by his house this evening to talk to him and he-he had another woman in the h-h-house."
"Men are such dogs," Paula comforted her.
She hugged her and pulled her from the car and into her house. She called her husband Guiseppi and told him that Maria had a crisis and that she was spending the night at her house. Maria cried all night until she fell asleep in the early morning.
Ralph was perplexed by Maria's behavior and after having dinner with his mom decided to call her. She never answered the phone. Exasperated, he decided to drive to her house. He had kept the address that she had given him when he was to take her home and so he drove there. He parked a little way from her home in an effort to not be too conspicuous to her neighbors and walked to the house. As he walked up to the front door, he saw Maria wrapped in a woman's arms sitting on the sofa.
"Maybe she was coming to tell me that she had a girlfriend and that we couldn't have a relationship," Ralph thought, and turned around and got back into his car.
Two weeks passed before they actually ran into each other at school. When he saw her, his heart hurt. She looked so haggard and worn. She looked at him and wondered where the dark circles and bags under his eyes came from as he never had any before.
They both looked at each other and simultaneously said, "Can we talk?"
"You first," he responded.
"Not here," she said, "not here."
"I'll be home right after school," he offered.
Remembering the woman's voice that she heard at his house, she said,
"Will it be ok if I came there?"
"Of course, why not?" he asked.
"I don't want any confrontation with anyone, that is why."
He didn't know what she was talking about and said,
"I'll be home at 7:00 pm"
At 6:59 pm. Maria pulled up in front of Ralph's home. His car was already parked in the driveway. She sat for a minute, very anxious as to what might lay ahead. To tell the truth, she was terrified. She realized that this might be the last time that she saw him outside of school and knowing what the last few days had meant to her she didn't know if she could continue, knowing that she had lost the man that she had longed for, for so long.
Inside, Ralph was stewing and vacillating between being angry with Maria and recognizing that he might have lost the woman that he was long seeking.
Finally, Maria opened the car door, realizing that delay would not change the outcome and walked up to Ralph's door. She rang the doorbell. He answered the door wearing a black t-shirt and blue jeans. Maria looked at him and her heart leapt.
"God, the man looked so good," she thought.
"Hi," she whispered.
Ralph's cock surged in his jeans as he looked at her. She was wearing a gray silk blouse that did little to hide the demi bra that she wore under it. It made her breasts look like they were being offered up. She also wore a tight blue skirt that had a split up the front of her left thigh and her perennial black high heeled pumps. They made her look a little taller she always thought.
Ralph stepped back and gestured for her to come in. As she entered her heart was racing and thumping against her chest so hard that she though that he must have heard it.
"Have a seat," he said.
She sat on the sofa in the living room, and he sat across from her in an armchair.
"Well, what did you want to talk about?" he asked.
At first no sound would come out of her mouth. Finally, she croaked,
"Can I have a glass of water?"
"Sure," he replied and went to the refrigerator to get her one. By the time that he returned, she had cleared her throat and found a voice.
She took a sip of water and said,
"First, I want to apologize for not calling as I said that I would. Paula saw me when I got home and called me as I was getting ready to call you. She kept me on the phone for about an hour trying to find out what happened between us. I told her as little as I could. but I had to share that we did have sex.
By the time she hung up, I was so tired fending off her questions that I lay down and went to sleep. When I awoke, it was almost 11:00 pm. I remembered that I did not call you as I promised and, in a panic, I jumped up and called you, but you never answered your phone. I called until 1:00 am but you never answered so I concluded that you were just being nice when you told me to call you when I got home.
I felt crushed because I felt that we had something going on between us and I was disappointed. I should have put on my big girl panties and behaved better accepting the fact that you didn't really want me to call but I couldn't help feeling bad. I felt that you didn't care, so I went back to school and kept to myself."
She dabbed her eyes with a balled-up tissue that she held in her hand, because in spite if the fact that she had decided not to cry, her emotions got the better of her.
For a very long minute Ralph did not say a word but just looked at her. Thinking that he had no intention of responding, she grabbed her handbag and said,
"Maybe I outta go."
With a sigh he said,"
You don't want to hear what I have to say?"
She sat back down, holding her head down fighting back the tears.
"Yes," she whispered, "I do."
Ralph began, "I waited for two hours for you to call and when you didn't, I concluded that I was just the culmination of your desire to get some black dick and that was all. I had a few drinks, got a little tipsy and went to sleep." I didn't hear the phone and never checked to see if you had called.
I stayed away from you during the week, thinking that you would say something, but you avoided me, so I left you alone. The last thing that I wanted was to be accused of as a black man was harassing a white woman at work.
By the way, what happened last Friday evening when you came here?" he asked.
"Well, I was afraid that you really didn't want to talk to me and as I was walking to the front door, I heard a woman's voice call for you and not wanting to have a confrontation with any woman, I left."
Ralph burst out laughing.
Red faced she looked at him and asked, "Why are you laughing?"
"The voice that you hear was my mom's," he replied.
"She hadn't heard from me most of the week and when she asked me if I was eating, I said, "Not really."
She came over to cook me dinner and make sure that I ate. She wanted to know who this woman was, who had me not eating and having me have all these circles under my eyes."
Later that night I drove to your house and as I was walking up to the front door, I saw you in a woman's arms and I thought that maybe you had come to tell me that we could not have a relationship because you had a girlfriend."
It was Maria's turn to burst into laughter.
"I don't love women, Ralph, I love... " and caught herself before saying "you." "That was Paula with me," she said. "She saw me outside my house crying in my car and came to find out what was wrong. I was so distraught that she spent the night at my house trying to keep me from losing my mind. Finally, I fell asleep, and she put me to bed. The rest of the week I couldn't eat nor sleep and still haven't been able to."
"Why?" Ralph asked.
"Perhaps, Mr. Bender, it is because I love you," she replied Then realizing what she had said she hung her head in embarrassment.
Ralph was floored.
"Y-y-yo-o-uuu love me-e-ee? he stuttered.
"I have for some time now. I never thought that anything would come of it but yes, I love you," Maria responded, her head hung down and looking at the floor.
"I'll be damned," blurted Ralph, "Maria Martinelli, look me in the face and say that again."
Maria held up her head and with a tear-stained face whispered,
"Yes Ralph, I love you."
"So, Ms. Martinelli, you were jealous that I had another woman when you heard my mom's voice?"
"I guess." answered Maria.
She smiled and looked at Ralph and cheekily said,
"...and Mr. Bender, might it be that you were jealous when you saw Paula with her arms around me?"
"Ahmm, ahmmm," muttered Ralph.
"You were, weren't you?" prodded Maria.
"I guess," Ralph mumbled.
Maria laughed and her voice was like music to his ears.
"You know," intoned Ralph, "you deserve to be really fucked into oblivion!"
"By whom?" teased Maria.
"By me, goddammit" roared Ralph.
Ralph stood up and said to Maria,
"Take every stitch of your clothes off right here and right now."
"No," said Maria, not tonight."
"Why not?" asked Ralph.
"Because everything that you see in front of you belongs to you and will always belong to you, so if you want it, you're going to have to take it," grinned Maria.
Painstakingly, Ralph stripped her naked in his living room, removing every piece of clothing that she wore. She stood in surrender while he kissed and licked and sucked on parts of her as he exposed them while removing the garments.
By the time he was through, her pussy was seeping like a broken faucet, her long nipples were rock hard, her skin was full of goose bumps, her breath was ragged, and she was on the edge of an internal explosion. When he finally licked her pussy, all hell broke loose, as a fiery orgasm engulfed her thighs, exploded through her anus into her vagina and tore up into her belly. It continued upwards into her throbbing nipples and when it hit the top of her head she collapsed on the carpet.
She screamed as her body shook and shuddered as spasm after spasm wracked her body.
Several hours later, she wondered what his neighbors must have thought when they heard her screaming. She smiled as she imagined that Paula too must have heard it some ten miles away. After christening the family room and the kitchen they ended up in the master bedroom.
"Oh God," gasped Maria after her tenth orgasm, "Ralph, you're going to kill me."
"No, I won't kill you," he kissed her neck," just doing what you wanted me to do.
"What was that," she moaned.
"Fucking you into oblivion." he growled.
Several hours later her cell phone rang. It was a concerned Paula.
"Maria, I know that you were going to talk to Ralph today and I haven't heard from you, are you ok, where are you?"
"In oblivion," Maria replied, "fucked into oblivion," and clicked her cell phone off.
|
Maria lay on her bed, sobbing as if her heart would break; actually, it had broken. Her husband, Guido had informed her early that evening that he was leaving. He had told her that he had found someone new, who was younger than she, less buxom than she and someone that he wanted to be with.
Although their marriage had basically disintegrated over the past five years, the pain was no less severe, and she sobbed until there were no more tears left.
Maria was now thirty-eight years old. She had met her husband Guido while they attended the Brooklyn Campus of Long Island University on Flatbush Avenue. They had classes together in Biology which she had majored in, and he was a Chemistry major. After graduating at nineteen, she and Guido had gotten married. He got a job as a chemist, and she accepted employment at a high school teaching Biology. He was five years older than she.
Guido was always sort of selfish, but she tolerated his macho Italian persona as she was used to that in her neighborhood. Most of the Italian guys in Canarsie sported the same conduct and treated their wives the same way. They bossed them around, knocked them up and complained how they had to work so hard supporting them.
She was one of the few working wives in their neighborhood as many just kept house. As a result, she had the opportunity to meet people of different ethnic backgrounds and cultures and found herself far less bigoted than Guido and his friends. He and his friends liked calling Puerto Ricans, "Spicks," Jews "Hymies," and many, many names for black people all of which were despicable.
Two years after marriage, she had her first child, a boy. Guido was ecstatic and boasted to all his friends how good a fucker he was. He crowed that Maria had gotten pregnant and had a first-born son, who was named after him. The following four years produced two more children, Lisa and Anita. By that time, Maria had put on twenty pounds, mostly on her breasts and hips and Guido having proved his manhood to himself, lost interest in his raven-haired wife.
They rarely had sex anymore and when they did, it was mostly when he returned home drunk from hanging out with his friends. He would often find her in bed asleep and would yank her nightie up at the back, insert himself into her and before she was even half awake, he would cum, roll over and go to sleep leaving her bottom all coated with his slimy batter. She would get up from bed, go to the bathroom and clean herself off before resuming sleep, feeling totally frustrated as she was always just beginning to warm up when he came.
If truth were told, Maria never really enjoyed sex with Guido. His "thing," was about four inches long and reminded her of a Vienna sausage. All of his boasting about his virility was just that. Sex with him never lasted more than five minutes from start to finish. In their nineteen years of marriage, she had probably cum twice, and both times was when he had mounted her after she had been quietly masturbating in bed.
Her story was no different from that of most of her friends, who shared similar experiences and suffered the same fate. There was no one really to talk to about her married life and its downward spiral. Her running buddy Paula was in the same situation too but solved her problem differently. She sought comfort in other men's arms and kept telling Maria that she too needed to get a little bit of "strange." Maria would only laugh and tell Paula that if her husband, Guiseppi, ever found out, she would be dead meat.
"You're just an old ho," Maria would teasingly tell her, and Paula would laugh and say,
"Damn right, an old ho getting some regular cock."
Paula believed that Guiseppi didn't care what she did, as long as his food was ready when he came home. She kept telling Maria that she was searching for a good, steady stallion, one to fuck her into oblivion regularly. Maria would just shake her head and say a few "Hail Mary's" chuckling as she envisioned this stallion fucking Paula into oblivion.
She learned from others that talking to the priest at her church was a waste of time. Father Felipe was apparently only interested in getting donations for the church and listening to confessions. Many of her girlfriends thought that they could hear him huffing and puffing in the booth, while they confessed, and felt that he was jerking off to the more salacious ones. Most didn't mind that though, because at least he was not trying to seduce their young sons.
Maria's school was one of the more progressive areas in her community. Jews, Asians, Blacks and Latinos all worked together as teachers, trying to impart knowledge and guidance to their charges. Generally, they all respected one another. It wasn't an easy job as many of the kids had no parental guidance and saw no need for a good education.
Every now and then, a gem would come through and they all combined their skills in helping that child to achieve at the highest level. They had the satisfaction of seeing some from all ethnic groups go on to college and succeed. Unfortunately, too many fell by the wayside adding to Brooklyn's crime and underachieving statistics.
Many times, she had to turn for advice to Ralph Bender, a fellow teacher, in dealing with some of the young black males that she taught. He was also a graduate of LIU and she had known him as a fellow student. He was smart, dedicated and it didn't hurt also that he was easy on the eyes. He was 6'4", and in her mind, epitomized what dark and handsome really meant. He wasn't overly bulky but had a very muscular body, very dark skin but oh so smooth! She had never seen a blemish on his face. His moustache was always short and neatly trimmed as was his goatee, which looked so sexy now with small flecks of gray in it. He was always well put-together. His advice was always helpful and honest, and she grew to trust his judgment in other matters too. He was a friend whenever she was in need.
Like many sexy women, she was unaware that her smooth olive skin and jet-black hair, coupled with a very mature broad ass and thick thighs made her still a very attractive woman. Since Guido didn't want her anymore, she assumed that nobody else did, especially since she was now in her forties.
Ralph Bender had noticed her but kept his thoughts and longing to himself. He loved that big ass and often imagined himself with his cock sunk deep into her as she trembled under him as orgasm after orgasm washed over her. Never in a million years did he think that Maria had similar thoughts.
Over the years, she could tell that he knew when she was upset or having a hard time with Guido, but he never probed or tried to get into her business. Sometimes she would ask him questions about relationships using examples of other friends' situations but really asking for herself. He would always listen patiently and give her advice that she could use. He was never judgmental and appeared to understand and empathize with her situation.
Once in a while, they would be in school after hours together and would chat about life and things in general. Once she had asked him, how come he wasn't married. He had laughed and said,
"Well, know for one, I am not gay, even though you didn't ask."
Her face had turned red as the thought had occurred to her. He then told her that he had been hurt badly by someone that he had trusted and had decided never to give himself to anyone that way again. Before she realized it, she blurted,
"Oh, my, that is a shame. Some woman somewhere is really missing out!"
He looked at her and his gaze made her slightly uncomfortable, but not as uncomfortable as the huge mound that lay between his legs. She apologized for her outburst, and he was silent for quite a while. Finally, he said,
"There is only one woman who has really captured my fancy since that time, but she is already taken."
Maria had no idea whom he was talking about but had the good sense to let the conversation end there.
Six months after Guido had left, both Lisa and Anita graduated from college and joined their brother in the work world. Young Guido was working in Chicago, Anita had gotten a job and moved to California and Lisa lived with her boyfriend in Manhattan.
Maria was now an empty nester, at home alone but still a lusty Italian woman with meat on her bones and a strong sexual appetite. She noticed that somewhere in the last twenty years the prototype of alluring women had changed to skinny assed women with no tits and little asses and few Italian men even looked at her anymore. She observed that many black men did though.
At Paula's recommendation, she had purchased many sex toys through mail order and her "friends" helped her through some horny times. Her favorite, unknown to Paula was a fat, black cock, about eight inches long and quite thick. Its base was a suction cup that she would attach to the shower wall and when horny, she would fuck herself until she collapsed in the bathtub. She burned out many vibrators, and Paula always teased her about causing blackouts in Brooklyn. Sometimes she wished that she were black and could get the real thing.
At forty-two, she was five foot two, one hundred and thirty-five solid pounds, most of which resided in her breasts, ass and thighs. Her tummy had a slight pouch, residual from having three kids and nothing that she did, seemed to eliminate it.
To her great chagrin, she had a dream one night about Mr. Ralph Bender. He was riding her through several orgasms, her legs perched upon his muscular shoulders, with what appeared to be a great, big and very black cock. It was hitting spots in her vagina, pounding her in a way that Guido had never been close to, and she woke up cumming.
"Oh my, God," she shuddered, "I'd love to be fucked like that!"
She had never seen Ralph's cock, so she didn't know if it were as big as she imagined but the front of his slacks seemed to corroborate the thought. Never before had she even considered an interracial affair. This wasn't because she was prejudiced, she was far from that, but she hadn't ever thought of being unfaithful to Guido. Guido was now gone, however, and infidelity was no longer an issue.
She remembered some of her younger female colleagues referring to someone on staff as "BCB" and after inquiry discovered that it stood for "Big Cock Bender." She was so embarrassed that she couldn't speak, and the young girls laughed at her discomfiture. To her, today's young women seemed to have little filter, and often in the lunchroom she overheard conversations between them as to who on the staff they would fuck, who had a big cock and how much they loved sucking cock. She never heard Bender's name discussed as a conquest, however, even though many of them said that they would love to ride him.
Unbeknownst to them, however, she had also thought that Ralph had a big cock and wondered how different it would feel in her from Guido's little pink Vienna sausage.
The week before Thanksgiving, school was dismissed at noon as a huge snowstorm was set to dump feet of snow onto the Brooklyn streets. The school buses had come and gone, those students who drove had left and most of the staff had gone home.
As Maria packed her work up and prepared to head to the parking lot, she heard a deep baritone voice singing softly. Mesmerized, she listened quietly and when she stepped out of the staff room, she saw Ralph also on his way out.
"Hey, Ralph," she called out, "I didn't know that you could sing. You have a wonderful voice."
Ralph chuckled and said,
"I'm really a shower singer but my friends like to hear me croon sometimes."
Before she realized it, she sighed,
"I love your voice, you could croon for me anytime."
Ralph smiled and looked at her. She saw his eyes caress her breasts and drifts downwards to her thick thighs and ass. A ripple fluttered in her belly.
"Maybe I will sometime," Ralph responded.
"I..I...I..uh..uh didn't mean to r-r-rea ll -- yy ask you to do-d-do that," she stuttered.
He laughed softly and that deep voice rumbled inside of her causing a warm gush of moisture between her thighs.
When they got to the parking lot, most of the cars had left and the snow had started to swirl with large flakes. Ralph stood with her as she got into her car and cranked it. After several attempts, to start her car the engine wouldn't turn over. She had been meaning to get a new battery but hadn't made it to the repair shop yet and the cold had done the rest.
"Shit," she fussed, "this car is just like the man who gave it to me. Useless!"
After several tries, Ralph said,
"If it won't cause you a problem, I could give you a lift home."
"Why would it cause a problem?" Maria asked.
"Well, I am black man, and you are an Italian woman and not everyone in your neighborhood is ok with you and me being alone in a car and me driving you up to your house."
"Oh please," Maria responded, "I couldn't care less what my neighbors think."
"You sure?" Ralph asked.
"Ralph Bender, what did I just tell you?" she huffed.
"Well, I don't want to get my balls cut off in your neighborhood," he laughed.
"If you don't help me, you won't have to worry about anyone in my neighborhood cutting your balls off, I will do it myself!" Maria threatened.
Ralph laughed loudly and said, "OOoo you are a mean woman!"
"You keep messing with me and you will find out," Maria responded, and they both laughed.
This was the first time that any conversation between them had been overtly sexual, and they both realized that they had crossed a line.
"Come on, then" Ralph said, "I'll take you home."
Maria picked up her purse and folders off her car seat that she was carrying home with papers to grade and followed Ralph to his car. He opened the passenger door for her, and she slid into the seat, thinking that Guido had never once opened a door for her in the past ten years. Ralph drove a large SUV. The seat was so comfortable that she sank back into it and it seemed to embrace her lush backside. He started the car and punched a button and almost immediately her ass started to feel warm.
"Let me know if it gets too hot," he said,
"Last time my dad sat over there he complained that the heat burned his nuts!!"
They both laughed at the vision of his elderly father yelling about burnt nuts.
She started singing, "Chestnuts roasting on an open fire," and they broke down with laughter.
Maria also wondered if Ralph had big balls too and how they would feel in her mouth. She squeezed her thighs together and sat silently with her thoughts.
She gave Ralph directions to her home, and he started out for Canarsie. After a few blocks, sleet started to coat the streets and windshield and Ralph had reduced his speed to almost walking.
Snow ploughs were dropping salt and sand to keep the roads passable, but it was slow going.
Finally, Ralph said,
"My home is just down the block would you mind if we stopped there and allow the ploughs to work and continue later. Its getting really icy out here."
At first, Maria did not want to, but seeing some vehicles begin sliding and realizing how bad the streets were rapidly becoming, she agreed.
Five minutes later, Ralph pulled up in front of a beautiful brownstone building. He parked and carefully stepped out of the car and walked around to the passenger side to help Maria out. As she stepped out, purse in hand and in her high heels, both of her feet shot from under her, and she ended up in Ralph's arms. She grabbed onto him, and he grabbed her. Without a word, picked her up, slammed the door with his hip and headed for the front door. He put her down on the top step.
Maria didn't even have time to protest but she enjoyed the feeling of being in Ralph's arms pressed up against his muscular chest. Guido was always pudgy and never even tried to pick her up even when she was a lot thinner. Her heart was pounding as she tried to calm herself.
Ralph unlocked the front door and she stepped from the cold icy wind into the warmth of his home. It looks like a man's house, she thought, and she couldn't help but think how much nicer it would look with a woman's touch.
Ralph stomped the snow and ice from his shoes and welcomed Maria by saying,
"Well, this is where I hang out."
"Very nice," Maria murmured.
She observed that even though he was not expecting company, the house was clean, neat and inviting.
He toed his wet, cold shoes off on the door mat. She stepped out of her heels and padded across the carpeted floor in her stockinged feet. He led her into the kitchen area, where he invited her to sit on one of the stools located in the breakfast nook. As she slid onto the stool, her dress rode up exposing two firm, solid thighs. She looked up in time to see Ralph turning away as he too had seen them and wondered what he was thinking.
He opened the refrigerator and said,
"I've got some chili that I made last night, and it will help us to get warm. Want some?"
"Sounds like just what I need," she replied.
Ten minutes later they were sitting eating chili, watching the television reporters talking about the condition of the roads, and the severity of the storm.
Maria took the opportunity to call her Mom to tell her that she was ok but that she was not at home, so that she wouldn't worry. She also called her bosom buddy Paula to tell he where she was. Paula laughed and said,
"You at Ralph's place? Are you going to try to get some of that big dick?"
"Please, Paula," Maria said, "You are incorrigible. I'll just be here until the road gets cleared."
"That doesn't mean that you can't get a little dick while you're there. You haven't had any in months," Paula shot back.
"Goodbye, Paula," Maria sang to her friend who chuckled and said,
"Don't turn down a dick offer now!"
Maria clicked the cellphone off and smiled to herself.
|
Four hours later, Maria was still at Ralph's home. The storm had intensified, and the roads were so bad that the weather forecasters begged everyone to stay indoors.
Ralph and Maria sat watching the TV after finishing the chili. She picked up Ralph's bowl and went to the sink to wash it along with hers. When Ralph tried to protest, she just told him that it was the least she could do since he had saved her from possibly sitting in the lot parking hoping a wrecker would come to jump start her car or being marooned in the school all alone.
About nine thirty, Maria stifled a yawn and Ralph said to her,
"If you're tired, I've got a guest bedroom, you can stay for the night and tomorrow, when the roads are clear, we can go back to the school, see if we can get your car started so that you can make it home."
Realizing that driving on the streets was too dangerous, Maria agreed.
Ralph took her back to the guest bedroom which had an inviting queen-sized bed, covered with a deep blue bed spread.
"You probably want to take a shower before going to sleep," Ralph commented. "Unfortunately, I don't have any clothes your size, but I do have some large t-shirts which would look like a dress on you which you can use."
Maria felt uncomfortable but realized that she could not spend the entire night wearing the clothes that she had worn to school, and she did feel like she needed to take a shower.
Ralph brought her three t-shirts and showed her where the bathroom was. She chose the black one.
The bathroom was large and comfortable. She pulled her panty hose and panty off and sat on the commode to urinate. The flow of urine was so powerful that she wondered if Ralph could hear her from outside. She decided that if he did, he did, there was nothing she could do about it anyhow.
She wiped herself dry, flushed the commode and removed the rest of her clothes.
She turned the shower on, checked the temperature by running the water over her hand and stepped inside the tub. The warm water was delightful. Pouring some liquid soap in her hands she commenced to soap her body, beginning with her large breasts now D cups after childbirth. Her nipples hardened and extended about an inch. Guido always hated her long nipples telling her that she was a freak, but they were, oh so sensitive! She twirled them with her fingers and her pussy just gushed. She had a hard time not cumming, but she didn't want to cum in Ralph's bathroom.
She soaped her belly, stroking the little layer of fat and slipped her fingers between her thick thighs. Her pussy lips were swollen and throbbed. Washing between them was torture because she had a constant struggle not to cum. Finally, she washed her hair, turned off the shower and stepped out from behind the curtain.
It immediately dawned upon her that she had not asked for a towel but lying on the commode cover on top of her dress, bra, hose and panties was a man sized thick black towel. She realized that Ralph must have put it there after she had stepped into the shower and wondered if he could see her through the curtain as she showered. She didn't even know that he had entered and left while she was bathing.
Picking up the towel, she dried her hair and skin and slipped on the black t-shirt. Ralph was right, it came down to her knees. Her nipples, however jutted out from under it and it clung to her magnificent ass. Folding her dress over her arm, she picked up the rest of her clothes and cracked open the bathroom door. She didn't see Ralph but heard him crooning somewhere in this bedroom.
Quickly she exited the bathroom and tip toed to the guest bedroom. She hung her clothes on a hanger outside the closet and remembered that her shoes were at the front door but decided that she did not need them.
On the vanity she saw some body lotion and used it to cream herself, paying special attention to her long nipples and pulsating vulva. She pulled back the bedspread and slipped between the clean sheets.
"God, it feels good!" she whispered to herself.
Minutes later she was sound asleep.
Four hours later she awoke, not sure where she as at first, but after sitting up, she remembered that she was at Ralph's house. It was now 2:00 am and she needed to use the bathroom. Quietly she opened the bedroom door and stepped out. She saw a pair of bedroom slippers parked outside the door and realized that Ralph must have left them there for her.
She giggled to herself as she slipped her tiny feet into them. They had to be twice the size of her own slippers. She eased her way to the bathroom down the dimly lit passageway. After taking care of her business, she exited the bathroom. Ralph's bedroom door opened, and he stepped out into the hallway.
Her eyes adjusted to the vision of a huge black man, stark naked with a body like Adonis to which was attached the biggest cock that she had ever seen. Limp, it was twice the size of Guido's when his was at its very biggest in length and girth. He looked like a magnificent black stallion. She gasped aloud.
Hearing the sound, Ralph turned and seeing her, tried to cover his monster with his hands.
"Oh shit...I'm so sorry, Maria," he said. "I forgot that you were here. I always sleep naked. I didn't expect to run into you at this hour."
María was mesmerized and stood rooted to the spot.
"My God, that is a huge cock," came from her lips.
Her pussy twitched and her tongue licked her lips hungrily as the unfulfilled need for an orgasm reared up inside of her.
She took two steps, dropped to her knees, her hands clasping around Ralph's naked buttocks and pressed her face into his balls, kissing and licking them as the large cock lay upon her forehead.
Ralph was so shocked that he stood motionless as Maria moaned and sucked.
Suddenly she stopped and jumped up like a scalded cat.
"Oh God, Ralph, I am so embarrassed," she cried and burst into tears. "I-I-d do-n't know wha-at-t-t came ov-over m-ee-. Pleas-s-e forg-g-ive me, I j-j-us-st-t lost it."
She just stood hoping a big hole would open in the floor and swallow her up.
Ralph pulled her to her to him and enveloped her in his strong arms.
"S-s-shh--," he whispered, "if you only knew how many times I have dreamt about this."
" Y-y-o-o-uu di-id-d? B-b-but-tt I thought that you always said that only one woman since your bad experience appealed to you."
"I did," Ralph responded.
..."and that she was already taken.." Maria sobbed in embarrassment.
"You were." Ralph replied.
At first, his words didn't penetrate but after a second, she realized that he was saying that she was that woman.
"Me-eee-?" she stuttered.
"Yes, Maria, you!"
Her hands reached up to pull his face down to her hers and tippy toed she offered him her mouth.
He ate it.
That was the only way she could describe what took place. It wasn't just a kiss. His tongue took over her mouth, flicking from her palate to the spot right behind her upper front teeth, which had a slight space between them, tickling and coaxing her tongue into his mouth. It twirled, lifting her tongue and sucking it, circling it nibbling on it as their saliva flowed back and forth between them. She had never been kissed like this!
Had Ralph not held her up, she would have collapsed to the floor. She had this tremendous desire to feel her naked breasts pressing up against his chest and she ripped off the t-shirt, threw it on the floor and pressed her large breasts hard against his naked chest. Since she had not put her underclothes back on, she was totally naked.
His big cock was now squashed between their bellies. He lifted her and took her back into his bedroom laying her on her back on the large bed.
Before she could say a word, he lay upon her supporting his weight on his elbows. She loved his man weight! He nuzzled her throat, nibbled her ears and licked her throat. Finally, his mouth sought and found the long nipples that Guido detested, and he made a meal of them. Thirty seconds later, her first orgasm shook her to her core.
Never before in her life had she come so hard. Never before in her life had she wanted anyone so badly. He held her until she stopped shaking, then kissed her softly.
"Oh my God!" she hissed, "What have you done to me? I have never cum from only having my nipples sucked."
"Just what I have dreamt of doing for years." He murmured.
His lips traveled down her belly, and she realized where he was heading. He gently eased her thighs apart and she willingly spread them for him. She felt his breath upon her clit and another orgasm started to rise within her. He was going to eat her pussy and she relished the thought. Guido didn't mind getting his cock sucked but he never wanted to eat her no matter how she begged him, and here now, Ralph was doing it on his own volition.
He slipped his hands under her backside and raised her hips up from the bed as she spread her legs apart. She raised her thighs upward, opening all of her holes to him. With his large tongue he swiped her all the way from her asshole to her clit. She squealed and her pussy gushed, flooding his mouth. His fingers spread her engorged labia and his tongue snaked inside of her while he tongue-fucked her. Ralph slowly rubbed his lips into the vestibule of her pussy while his tongue fluttered up the insides of her labia. He replaced his tongue with two fingers that probed inside her and found her G-spot massaging her into another world.
When his tongue finally licked her clit, she lost her mind, covered her face with the pillow and screamed her way out into the cosmos as flashing jags of light shot though her brain. He sucked the button until her pussy locked around his fingers in spasm and her thighs wrapped themselves around his head while her hands held his head in place.
She growled, shuddered and felt herself toppling into space, racing past planets and meteors until a black hole claimed her and she just floated, knowing that she was as close to God as any live human could be.
"Ohhhhh Fuuccckkk!!!" she wailed.
When she came back to herself, she was curled on her side, her thighs slippery and wet, and her body still humming with aftershocks.
Ralph gently pulled her back into his lap.
"You ok?" he asked.
"I've never been more ok in my life," she whispered.
Remembering what her friend Paula had said to her, she said,
"There is only one thing that would make me more ok!"
"What is that?" he inquired.
"For you to fuck me into oblivion!" she whispered, wondering where this newfound boldness came from but not wasting time to worry about it.
He gently rolled her onto her back and climbed on top of her. She couldn't help but see that his monster cock was waving above her belly.
"I d-do-on-ntt know-w-w if I can take all t-that-t-t," she gasped.
"Don't worry, I won't hurt you, " he responded. "I know that my cock is big, but three children came out of that wonderful tasting pussy of yours, so there is room for this cock to get into you! I will wait until you tell me that you're ready for it."
He was gentle with her, knowing how large his cock was and that she hadn't had sex in a while. He loosened her with two, then three fingers. He ate her into another orgasm until her pussy was leaking like the Niagara Falls, then he put the head of that monstrous cock at her opening and rubbed it between the lips, coating in with her juices.
When it was all slippery and wet, he let her hold it, center it and push onto it. Little by little she could feel the walls of her pussy stretch. She would wait until the tension decreased and then push up some more. Her body shook with orgasms every time she pushed deeper. Ten minutes later he was all the way in her, his balls draped against her asshole.
She groaned after the fourth orgasm elicited just from his going in, wrapped her thick thighs around his waist, her arms around his neck and took his tongue into her mouth and slowly gyrated her big hips. With his tongue in her mouth and his huge cock now deep seated in her, she felt as if she was being fucked top and bottom at the same time. It was just heavenly!
Slowly, he felt her pussy loosen and accommodate to his length and girth. She felt his cock sliding slowly all the way up inside of her as she rocked back and forth moaning until her distended lips were fully spread and she felt his cock sliding all the way in. She remembered thinking that her womb must have moved out of the way because she could feel his cock all the way to her navel.
The distension set her off into an extended orgasm. Without moving, he just kept his cock buried deep in her, allowing her to initiate the movement. She slowly raised and lowered her buttocks until she could feel his cock moving inside of her.
"Oh God," she wailed, "this cock is so go-o-o-d-d-d-!!!!"
Suddenly a thunderous orgasm hit her. It started from her womb and spread up her pelvis and down into her legs and her heels drummed on his back as her pussy yawned to take all of him. He started to join her in her undulation, and she could feel him begin to take over the fucking.
He slipped his forearms under her thighs and raised them up until only her shoulders lay on the bed. She was totally at his mercy now, but she didn't want mercy, she wanted all of his cock. He rocked her world, and her orgasms came unabated, fast and furious and seemed to continue forever. Knowing that she had taken all of him and was not in pain, he gave her no quarter.
"Fuck me," you stallion, fuck me into oblivion!" She howled,
And he did.
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