murdcrofcrows

[murdcrofcrows]

sharp teeth cut into their bottom lip when beau takes their hand away from their nearly bursting dick.

muscles flex and release under the strong calloused hands of their lover. the slight scratch of an occasional rough spot, catching to scratch their skin just right that it only adds to the overall sensation. their duo-chromatic gaze flicked from where his hand rested on their hip to beau's face. "that sounds like a threat when you word like that," they ping back to him, low and husky. it was the way he looked at them, the way he switched from wholesome southern farmer who couldn't be more sweet if he was made out of sugar cane ; the way he switched into this filthy, demanding things no good church boy should be saying out loud.

ziggy fucking loved it.

at the same time, they could hardly stand it sometimes ( though by now they were as used to his looks as they could be ) how exposed they felt but loved, cared for at the same time. gods, they could only hope they conveyed the same messages through their gaze. ziggy hoped he knew that when when their eyes find him in any given place or time, he is the only person in the world for that moment. everyone else is just blurred into their background noise. just like that moment there, spread out on their porch, presented like a tribute— albeit willingly —they couldn't care or be a bit self conscious when they look at him because right now? they were the only two people in the world.

"i need, oh, like rain in a drought," ziggy pleaded, moans getting caught in their throat and thrown against clenched teeth it was becoming harder to keep their eyes open to concentrate on anything other than his movements inside them. their hand moved to cover their cock as it continued to rise to attention, becoming almost painfully hard as beau increased the torturous prodding of their hole. of course this would be when he told them to come out with pretty words.

"i love the feel—" they all but stuttered the start, grimacing and squirming against his hand, "of your hands around my waist— oh fuck, um, uh," it was hard to formulate a thought and he knew well what he was doing to them. their angel had a bit of devil inside him and if this wasn't proof of it, they didn't know what was. "your body pressed against me— caressing me, unraveling me," they were certainly unraveling now as they panted between words. "carving sweet promises into my skin, whispering hot desire, fiery in my ears." they were mixing words up, they knew it now and they groaned a plea. "i can't, fuck baby i can't—"

[murdcrofcrows]

[murdcrofcrows]

who: open for exodus event where: anywhere in burnington

all day kiran had been searching throughout the city looking for his sister. ever since priyanka failed to show up on his doorstep the day before but her car was parked outside the gates. she'd come to stay the week with him, dealing with some business at the compound but unwilling to stay there again. honestly kiran doesn't blame her, she didn't need to cross paths with felix ever again. that's why he'd taken it upon himself to get the man to sign the papers instead of her or afterglow lawyers that could be biased one way or ther other.

but she didn't show up and so far he's discovered that there are a few people that are also missing. but it couldn't be, not his sister. she wouldn't get taken would she? she's too important. priyanka must be hiding out somewhere, laying low. maybe something to do with felix or something else but there's no way she was missing. they stopped in from place to place, relentless, holding a photo of her from when he'd seen her a couple weeks prior.

"hey, sorry to bother you, have you seen this woman in the past day or two? she's my sister, i'm afraid she may be in trouble."

[murdcrofcrows]

the shout caused dot to scramble back to the large bed's corner with a squeak, still staring at him with wide eyes. there wasn't anymore fear there than normally pops up in its looks. in fact, once the he's up and finds his second eyes, it moves closer to him again. hopeful that meant he wasn't mad at it anymore. it doesn't think it could ever be mad at duck, he was far too sweet and kind to it for so long. even if he grew to despise it, dot would still love him unconditionally.

"do you promise?" it asked leaning into the hand cupping its face and covering the back of it with both of hers. "it was here. well not here, here. it did come back once for clothes and let in duck's brother." and gave its uncle santiago files to copy but it was starting to think it wasn't supposed to do that and it wasn't trying to make fefe mad at it all over again. "it went to work a couple times but the shop was clamped up because of the old chaos bugs and the not bees. mostly it lurked on the compound with its beastie and sometimes friends." it shrugged. there had been several times it was sure he'd seen it but apparently not.

"did duck have a good odd break? did he see lots of friends and get all the praise from the people he saved?"

sleep does not come easily to the doctor as of late. that is not to say he is not tired ― on the contrary, felix finds himself exhausted more often than not, in mind just as much in body ― but even when he does finally get the chance to settle at the end of a long day, it often takes hours for him to finally succumb to the blessed release of a dreamless sleep. too often, he spends the majority of his time tangled just as much in his own thoughts as he is the sheets. trapped. ( the house is quieter in its absence. he tries not to dwell on exactly how much that unsettles him. ) he's certain he must've only just begun to doze into an actual slumber when there's slight shift in the mattress beneath him. the doctor shifts, brow furrowed in a confused half-sleep.

and then he jolts awake with a start. he doesn't mean for the shout that escapes him but there's something incredibly jarring about stirring awake to a pair of wide, dark eyes staring down at you. it takes a few seconds for felix to catch his breath and slow his racing heart enough to think ; by that point, his eyes have adjusted to the low light in his bedroom and he slowly pushes himself upright, reaches out for the glasses on his nightstand and slides them onto the bridge of his nose. and then it hits him.

she's home.

somehow, he manages to recall that she's asked a question in the midst of his shock at waking to find her in his bed. ( it is not the first time, certainly, but he's not seen her in weeks, and he's not anticipating it now. ) a sigh tumbles past his lips, but unlike the last time he'd seen them, it is not exasperated but relieved. ❝ no, ❞ he says, as he shifts to better face her, ❝ no, my sweet odette. i'm not mad at you, i've only been worried. ❞ terribly worried, that she'd gone and run off with dante and his rag-tag band of guerilla soldiers. he reaches a hand out then, cups the side of its face and offers a soft smile reserved only for it. ❝ where have you been? are you alright? ❞

[murdcrofcrows]

Is this what getting lost feels like? Her mind is swarmed, filled with Neve and how her body feels beneath her hands, the silk of her hair, the electricity of her tongue against her own, and God, the smell of her. Thess finds herself happily drowning in the ocean of this girl, not realising her lungs have been burning for oxygen until Neve finally pulls away and Thess finds herself letting out a soft gasp.

Her hand has found her way to her ass, her body all but plastered against Neve's, and there's a moment of levitating, of reality suspension, of calm that usually only a significant amount of weed allows her; when it all crashes down, when the lights, sounds, and smells of Hell's Gate come rushing back and Neve's presence blends into the the stimuli once more, no longer the tranquil beacon of sensory abeyance, Thess takes in a sharp breath, so damn aware of how much she doesn't want to be here anymore.

"No," she replies finally, hand squeezing before letting go, reaching for a hand instead. "I think we can do way better." Pulling her hand up, Thess presses a kiss to Neve's knuckles before walking backwards, pulling her along, hoping she'd follow at any rate. This place is too noisy, and Thess absolutely doesn't like how it swallows every damn nuance of this girl.

"C'mon, let's get out of here."

END.

[murdcrofcrows]

by now, all things considered, neve was used to being left behind or just solitude in general. it wasn't something she dwelled on often but it was something that she was reminded of when attempting to connect with others. it also was something that grazed her mind when she saw jo emerge from the back of the mad scientist. what was she doing there?

granted, this had been neve's first time in the quaint tasting room of the distillery. in fact the reason she'd come there at all was to see thessaly case in action, in her natural habitat. which she found to be mostly fair since the first time they'd met had been at hell's gate. it was also the last place she can remember seeing jo. once again, she felt herself in an awkward mindset to be in and she feared thess was going to think her neurotic with how rapidly her mood has been switching. which, to be fair, neve could be neurotic with the best of them but mostly she'd been told she was cold, frigid in some cases.

jo had made her feel warm, safe in ways her brother and morijah had made her feel. she had felt like jo was a safe space, a type of home in a person but then, she was just gone and there was radio silence. "i was not aware ghosts could make drinks." neve said, looking down at the table. dark green eyes popped up to the other woman. "why?" the word was the only common denominator in the long string of questions she had for her.

CLOSED STARTER FOR @murdcrofcrows, neve gardner + josephine katz. mad scientist.

SHE HAS ALWAYS HAD A SOFT SPOT FOR BEAUTIFUL THINGS. She didn’t know if it came from guilt or instinct, but she couldn’t stop herself. She wanted to wrap every bruised soul in warmth and teeth, protect them like she hadn’t been. Maybe that’s why she stayed with the Shamrocks for so long, why she let herself become someone else’s cautionary tale. Once, she’d believed she could fix things with enough love, silence, and sacrifice.

She knew better now, but that never stopped her habits, and it never stopped her from caring -- even after she'd left the Shamrocks. She felt the brunt of it in flickering moments -- moments like now. Jo kept mostly to the edges when she wasn’t working. She had a corner of the back bar staked out, far enough to stay out of reach but not enough to disappear entirely. And then she saw her -- the familiar blonde head she took so kindly to so long ago, standing alone.

"Neve?" It was instinct, really, the way Jo moved toward her. She didn’t overthink it, just followed that quiet tug of guilt and needing to know things were okay in her chest that always lit up whenever confronted by ghosts. "Hey," she said softly, suddenly unsure of herself. She hadn't explained, had she? Fuck. "Do you want another drink?"

[murdcrofcrows]

it was a relieving thing, hearing that thess understood what she was saying. though, neve would not have faulted her if she would've run for the exits or was planning the quickest escape route away from her. but instead of moving away, she watched with awe as thess moved in closer. incredibly close. the type of closeness she hadn't shared with too many others and would likely get someone's nose broken. not thess, though, neve found herself leaning in to be closer just the same.

the minute thess' hand reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear, neve's breath hitched in her throat. then she started going on with the compliments. "i think you might need to get out more," neve responded, her voice low. neve's face was getting hot and she had the urge to cover it but was thwarted completely by the other woman making her move. for the first beat or two, she was stunned frozen in place and right when she went to return it thess had pulled away.

"no, no, i wasn't ready that's not fair." neve reached forward and grabbed the side of her head to pull her back towards her to try again, this time the blonde abandoned awkward nerves and put effort into making it known that she was interested in thess. she didn't pull away until it was necessary to come up for air. "there," she murmured into her lips. "that's better."

The pinky held out is so oddly familiar that it takes Thess a second to actually register how her own pinky hooks with Neve—it's the system with which she and Sky work, and it's a sacred one. A pinky promise is serious business. But it's not so much the promise that moves her closer, it's the electricity she feels chasing down her spine that has her subconsciously seeking more.

By the time Neve has stumbled through her own words, explanations, questions, Thess finds herself firmly inside the other woman's personal space, dark eyes skipping along flawless skin, the flush barely visible in the mood lighting of the establishment. God, she's so cute. Beyond anything else—beautiful, yes; inexplicably charming, yes; sweet, sure. But cute isn't what Thess would've guessed when she'd seen her all those weeks ago.

"No, no, I get what you mean," Thess reassures her, taking a deep breath in as she chews on her bottom lip. There are impulses fighting to come to the surface, hands itching. The ordered drink, when it comes, is forgotten—ignored—on the counter, Thess' full focus on Neve and nothing and no one else. The noise around them has fallen away, and if the floor isn't empty safe for the two of them, Thess wouldn't have been able to tell.

Slowly her hand reaches up and gently brushes sleek blonde hair behind Neve's ear before her hand cups the side of her face. "I think you're the most beautiful, charming girl I've ever met." Before Thess can stop herself, curb impulses unchained again, her head leans forward and her lips connect with Neve's, thumb slowly sliding along high cheekbone.

Bold, Case. Too bold.

[murdcrofcrows]

[murdcrofcrows]

of course there was a water pooling into the corners of santiago's eyes before long. sadly he didn't think he could cry even if he wanted to. if the days leading up to that moment, while they were apart weren't enough everything came to a head when he got the call to come back to his mam's house. his baby cousin went missing and little gus was found alone, his heart broke even further when he didn't have an immediate lead to tracking her down. his poor tia and xiomena's twin, lucy. even worse, it took so much out of him to do alone. there's been times he closed his eyes and pictured what it would be like to let go of that weight for just a second.

normally lindsay was his rock through these things, he reminded him to slow down now and then, sure and his siblings could try to do the same but santiago wasn't particular about listening to all that when there were things that needed to get done. but just holding that scottish soldier's hand was enough to suck out of all the sting from the stream of pain thrown his way. a reminder that there was a reason to keep pushing through, that together they were going to make the world right again or die trying. standing there in front of him now, even with the unsurety of what he'd come there for, standing at ease in the middle of the room he'd spent the past handful of days in. even at that moment, santiago felt all that much better just having him somewhere nearby.

if it wasn't for the endearment, santiago could imagine he'd be greeted with the same stance if lindsay was serving him divorce papers ( he knew that it couldn't be that, there's no way he could've gotten them drawn so quickly ). it wasn't till he stepped forward that santi honestly knew, for sure, this conversation wasn't going to be more bad news. "you had every right to be upset, mi amor. i was holding so much in and i kept doing it over and over, i'd somehow convinced myself i had to do it to keep everyone happy. it wasn't just you." he'd done it to everyone, saying he was fine over and over, not offering his thoughts on things as much or bothering to let out what was weighing on him.

"i know better," he finally reached out to pull him in closer, hugging him tight to his chest for several long moments. "we both do." he pulled back to just enough to rest his forehead on lindsay's, his hand gripping lightly at the nape of his neck where his thumb rubbed idly back and forth. "tu eres mi todo," he spoke soft. "i've needed you so badly, you are my rock, mi media naranje." santi's eyes closed and he breathed him in, a sigh of relief releasing soon after. he'd like to say let's not do that again or promise to not leave each other angry anymore but he's not willing to waste a devotion that may not be able to be upheld.

"i'm going to need to stay here longer," he added after they had their moment. "not because of you and you can stay too, but someone needs to be around to help out with gustavo. they found him all alone, mi corazón." santiago broke away from his husband to sit on the edge of the bed, tugging at one of his belt loops, an invitation to join him. he wanted nothing more than to hold his husband right now, while they continued to talk, just to have him close.

the guest room is an obvious choice. there are far too many muñozes downstairs for lindsay to feel even remotely comfortable trying to start conversation he desperately needs to have with his husband without feeling like there are a dozen listening ears lingering nearby and, even with their voices kept low, lindsay knows better than to try and speak in the hall when there is a baby sleeping in an adjacent room. he does not expect any voices will be raised ― at least not his own, not now ― but it is a risk with zero reward. and it would seem, at least from what lindsay can tell, santiago has only just gotten gus down for a nap.

the commander stands at ease in the center of the room but there is nothing easy about his stance ; apologies, like anything else within the realm of human emotions, have never come easy to lindsay. christ, but he knows that santiago deserves one, though. how many hours of the past few days has he spent reflecting on the many ways in which he'd been so cruel? all the work over all the years that santi had helped him put into learning to control his temper, and the moment he was upset and just a wee bit tired, he lashed out. at the person closest to him, no less.

❝ hey, ❞ lindsay returns softly, and if he's got any worry what he should say to begin an apology days in the making, santiago takes the burden from him by speaking instead. and there's something in his mannerisms that twists at the knife that's been lodged in his chest since the night santi left ; the subdued energy, the hesitance, lindsay cannot stand to see them. there's something vaguely wistful in his smile as he returns the sentiment. ❝ i'm glad tae see ye too, a leannan. i havenae said hello yet, nae. i ― well, i wanted tae see ye first. benny let me in, told me where ye were. ❞

there's something inherently wrong to lindsay about the fact that santiago apologizes first. that's not to say he doesn't think he deserves an apology at all, and he does appreciate that santiago recognizes how withholding that information hurt him. but that's nothing compared to the way lindsay reacted, the way he behaved. he shakes his head, and it's difficult to keep an even expression from wavering as he feels a lump beginning to form in his throat.

❝ dinnae do that, santi, ❞ he says, taking a step forward. hands that had been locked behind his back fall to his sides, fingers twitching with the urge to reach out and touch his husband. to pull him into an embrace, to cradle the side of his face or bury his face in his neck ad breathe him in. ❝ i know exactly what ye were thinkin'. ye were tryin' tae protect my feelings, and i was jus' ― i was sae feckin' tired and frustrated and hurt that i didnae care about that, i was just lookin' fer a reason tae be upset. ❞ he shakes his head. ❝ 's jus' like me, innit? ❞

there's a deep breath in and lindsay finally reaches out, his hand finding the side of santiago's face as a thumb grazes the gently weathered skin of his cheek. ❝ i'm sorry, a chridhe, i didnae mean what i said, i didnae mean tae hurt ye. christ, i dinnae ken what i would do without ye. yer my rock, santiago, the only thing in this whole feckin' world what keeps me grounded, and i dinnae want ye tae think fer a second that i dinnae trust ye or yer judgment. it's never nae been better than my own. i'm tired tae feck o' bein' a numpty about it, i feckin' missed ye. ❞

[murdcrofcrows]

the moment her brother was freed from the clutches of those corporate monsters, neve was there waiting. just as she'd promised and she brought him and his, creature? home. she could not wait to show him her magical land of creations. first the workshop and then the greater warehouse which stored so many of her creations and prototypes. backups that could be re-molded and sent away to the place they are made en masse. they were going to be a million times better and the entire place more efficient now that her brother was finally there with her, willing to join her on this path.

"i'm glad you like it, i would think about you every time i was here." she hugged him back, arms tight around his torso and she took the moment of silence to relish in the feeling of warmth and security she got from this simple display of affection she'd been deprived of for far too long. gray felt like home, she hadn't realized how long she'd been going through each day without feeling safe. "don't, the human tongue is highly unsanitary. i have to assume yours is freakishly so." neve teased and sent a wink to his... she still wasn't sure what to call it. creature, god, oddity. ah, yes, his oddity.

"what else do you need? also you will have to meet with finn or feary at some point. but that can wait." she was sure to request time for him to get adjusted and remember what it was like to be feral and free again. "or does it need? i'm not sure what it is to you but, the offer extends and all that." neve still had her mask up, she wasn't meaning to, it was just sometimes hard to take it off when it's been so constant the past several years. "i missed you, so much." she offered in a whisper, looking down at the floor.

located : shamrocks weapons warehouse ・ @murdcrofcrows ( neve )

The moment his collar come off, Neve had taken him along like she'd promised, and neither twin had looked back.

Now, the doors of his new workshop—or so his sister insisted, and he has no reason to not trust her implicitly—open by Neve's hand; the first few steps inside, following her shorter gait, has him stop to look around. Like stepping into what Gray would imagine Bisey World to be like—or whatever the place was called before the ocean had consumed it, along with the rest of Florida—bright green eyes widen in a distinct break from the usual apathetic disinterest shrouding his face like a funerary cowl.

Much like a raccoon, without any leave, Gray shoots forward with a speed a man his size shouldn't be allowed, hands touching every inch of his sister's braincraft, hard metals, intricate mechanics, delicate engineering, all dangerous piece by piece; all with her signature style on it, like stepping straight into the past, but grander.

Turning to face her when he's finally satisfied a nugget of curiosity—more soon, he'll have a life time to refamiliarise himself with her beautiful, amazing work—Gray has a broad grin on his face. For the first time as he approaches her, arms wrap tight around Neve's form, not to harm in any sort of way, but a gesture that used to be so common between the twins, in joy and grief alike; a hug.

"I missed your brain," he murmurs against her stark blonde hair, such a contrast to his own. "Gonna lick it."

[murdcrofcrows]

@eatabug

ONE TREE HILL | 2.09 "The Trick is to Keep Breathing"

[murdcrofcrows]

"that they are, at least i'm sure with this check-in i'll be able to avoid to harsh a punishment when i return." at the end of the day, tully didn't much care at the moment. the realization that she would forever be a tool in service to the eastern atlantic army, in adjunction with afterglow. seeing dr. muñoz there, it reminded her of specialist muñoz, and how much the look in his eye felt like looking into a mirror. serafina did it right. being connected with afterglow in the least way possible, but still having the power to help people.

all tully wanted to do was help people.

"good, good, i'm glad your lot is mostly unharmed. you and your family are good people. appalachia is blessed to have you all here." now tully didn't know all of them. mostly just benny and sera, and even then it wasn't like she'd gotten close to any of them. but she heard their praises from devan and ashton. that was all she needed. despite her and devan's new status of non-speaking terms, she trusted everything he said completely. "yeah, i planned to go back after stopping in with you anyways. sometime we should see each other outside this place, have a real conversation? yeah?" maybe she could make a friend that wasn't thrust on her because of the military. she got up and moved toward the door. "thanks again."

THE END.

~~*~~

"No," Sera laughed and shook her head, "I can't recall anyone calling me that. My siblings have called me a lot of names but I don't think that's one of them." Of course, that was just her family. Her mother had pet names she called them, that was true enough, but that was a mother's job.

A night trip to the city.

There was something that sat strange about that comment. Sera glanced up at Tully but didn't ask anything further. Perhaps Tully was a lot more like Sera than she had originally thought. Wanting to sneak around outside of Afterglow's stern eyes. Or rather, one in particular. But if that was the case, she was not going to be the one that outed them in a place that Afterglow's stench still clung to everything. "Well it's better than no clothes but I can bet the scrubs are cleaner and more comfortable."

"Yea," Sera nodded and looked down at her hands automatically moving to fill the syringe and rip open the alcohol swab. Thinking of Maisie and their bandaged hand, her sister's accusing yet worried look, her brother shoving his anxiety down to visit the clinic, Javi's annoyance at her choices...Atlas' warm embrace. "Yea we're ok. Not sure anyone got out of this completely unscathed but...we're alive. Are you getting called back to the compound?"

[murdcrofcrows]

their lips pressed together in a thing line and an unimpressed hum reverberated against his teeth. "yeah, yeah, so i've heard." it didn't matter if he was a nice guy, girl, or enby. if the issue was only whether or not he was good enough to be with duri, it would be easy enough for draven to solve. he's not, no one would ever be good enough for her but that was a stereotypical response and they certainly wouldn't be this up in arms if that were all it was, it was much more complex. some of which stemmed from a box of insecurities draven kept tightly locked away and hidden next to his humanity, or what was left of it.

truly what he needed to do was ignore it, there was nothing he could do about duri whether she was transitioning to something new or not. draven should want her to be happy, whether that meant he was involved in that happiness or not. and he did, at least he wants to say he does. there's just an overwhelming feeling of impending doom in their chest and a constant stream of dialogue reminding them that she hates him, she was going to leave, and so would everyone else. even the delightful beauty in his arms. it was all a matter of when and how long they would entertain the idea of happiness, or even contentment, before facing the truth of the matters.

"i like spending my time with the boy i've become rather fond of, as well." draven kept the 'but' off the end of that sentence. they didn't need to talk about duri anymore, it wasn't fair to dorian to have to deal with their scenarios and complexes they conjure in their head out of nowhere. "you're probably right, it's nothing to be worried about." the speaker leaned down to steal another kiss, this time nipping at his lower lip before addressing the little surprise he'd slipped in at the end.

"thank you." they added, because they were incredibly grateful to have him around even if his insight hit a little too close to home for them to admit. "a song? for me? you have all my attention." not the complete truth but close enough, draven could give most of it at any rate.

his hum this time is a little more understanding, a little more sympathetic. could tiptoe into pitying, but dorian is quite adept as spinning those things into something good, so he doubts he'll be called out on it, and even if he is, he think he might be rather good at distracting draven away from the thought all together. he can't really stop the grin on his face, that sharp and bright thing that tugs at the corners of his lips and would probably come across as rude to anyone who it was directed at outside of the here and now. "teddy's a nice boy." it's certainly not what they want to hear, and certainly does start to feel like they're walking into a conversation that will sound like they're talking about their teenage daughter sneaking out to date boys, but dori can find the humor in that, even if draven can't.

he gives a single squeeze before draven turns to face him, and his expression shifts into that soft, almost sappy gaze that he's reserved just for the speaker, practically turning into putty at the gentle touches. "i don't think she's abandoning you, i think she likes a boy and that's a new experience for her and she isn't sure how to handle it. i, for one, also want to spend all of my time with the person i like." and he answers the kiss with a quick peck of his own before pulling back a little to look, truly look, try and see past all of the layers.

as a guy with a lot of brothers, he thinks maybe he has a little insight.

"she doesn't love you any less because she likes someone else in a different way, dray. and if your concern is that he isn't one of us, maybe that's something we can work on when you have a clearer head about the whole thing. in the meantime, i wrote you a song, and i would like to play it for you. so how's that for a distraction?"

[murdcrofcrows]

[murdcrofcrows]

THE END.

"definitely not topher, don't worry. no knock down, drag out death matches." daisy's not a fighter, anyway. and she would never fight a man over his best friend. she can't imagine anyone trying to fight her over her own best friend, and the absolute levels of feral she might go to win. even if lucky is a bit lanky and slender, daisy doesn't think she could take him. "and you should, but also, don't stress it too much. i'm sure there's, like, a ton of girls around here who would melt for you. if there's one that you're into, just shoot your shot. worst thing anyone can do is say no."

as if daisy is one to be giving out advice like that, considering where she's sitting with her own feelings and relationship drama, but lucky doesn't have to know that. because it's completely awkward and embarrassing to bring up to begin with.

"uh, duh, starboy." eyes roll, but the grin on her face can't hide the playfulness of the action as she reaches over with lazy hands to give him a little shove. "of course you are. you're funny and you're chill as hell and i don't feel like i have to be, like... i dunno perfect or whatever with you, i can just be daisy and that's chill." and probably a hundred other things, too, but daisy has never been the best at verbalizing when she gets toasted, so that'll simply have to do for now. eyes sparkle, though, and she chuckles and nods. "blanket it is, and i can absolutely teach you how to crochet. it's a little tedious until you get the hang of it, though. fair warning."

[murdcrofcrows]

muscles flex and release under the strong calloused hands of their lover. the slight scratch of an occasional rough spot, catching to scratch their skin just right that it only adds to the overall sensation. their duo-chromatic gaze flicked from where his hand rested on their hip to beau's face. "that sounds like a threat when you word like that," they ping back to him, low and husky. it was the way he looked at them, the way he switched from wholesome southern farmer who couldn't be more sweet if he was made out of sugar cane ; the way he switched into this filthy, demanding things no good church boy should be saying out loud.

ziggy fucking loved it.

at the same time, they could hardly stand it sometimes ( though by now they were as used to his looks as they could be ) how exposed they felt but loved, cared for at the same time. gods, they could only hope they conveyed the same messages through their gaze. ziggy hoped he knew that when when their eyes find him in any given place or time, he is the only person in the world for that moment. everyone else is just blurred into their background noise. just like that moment there, spread out on their porch, presented like a tribute— albeit willingly —they couldn't care or be a bit self conscious when they look at him because right now? they were the only two people in the world.

"i need, oh, like rain in a drought," ziggy pleaded, moans getting caught in their throat and thrown against clenched teeth it was becoming harder to keep their eyes open to concentrate on anything other than his movements inside them. their hand moved to cover their cock as it continued to rise to attention, becoming almost painfully hard as beau increased the torturous prodding of their hole. of course this would be when he told them to come out with pretty words.

"i love the feel—" they all but stuttered the start, grimacing and squirming against his hand, "of your hands around my waist— oh fuck, um, uh," it was hard to formulate a thought and he knew well what he was doing to them. their angel had a bit of devil inside him and if this wasn't proof of it, they didn't know what was. "your body pressed against me— caressing me, unraveling me," they were certainly unraveling now as they panted between words. "carving sweet promises into my skin, whispering hot desire, fiery in my ears." they were mixing words up, they knew it now and they groaned a plea. "i can't, fuck baby i can't—"

❝ oh, don't you worry your pretty little head, darlin'. ❞ the reassurance is murmured low and soft as the hand that spread their legs open slips around their hip to cup the curve of their ass and beau gives the muscle there a firm squeeze. ❝ you ain't gonna be needin' an aromatic. i'm fixin' to take my time. i wanna enjoy every second of this. ❞ it's hard for beau not to take a moment simply to admire the breathtaking sight of his partner ― no, his fiance ― spread out and propped up on his thighs. good lord, he ain't never seen nothin' or no one more beautiful than ziggy turner.

his other hand slips in between their legs, teasing their hole with slick digits before slowly easing a finger inside. now beau is ravenous enough for his partner throughout the week that they don't need a whole lot of preparation, but he's always been fond of a little foreplay. there's very little in this world that beau enjoys more than watching their partner squirm and blush with pleasure, feeling them tighten around his fingers and rut back against his palm. another finger slips in and stretches a little and beau can feel his own arousal throbbing with every little breath of sound that escapes ziggy's flushed throat.

❝ how bad d'ya need it, sugar? ❞ beau asks, and there's a teasing quality to the husky tone of his voice as he continues to work his fingers in and out of his partner at a pace he knows borders on agonizing. fingertips graze against a spot he's come to know by memory ― he could read ziggy's body like a map for how well he's learned it by now ― and beau squeezes their hip tight to hold them in place and keep them from jerking up off of his thighs. ❝ keep spillin' all them pretty words for me. ❞

[murdcrofcrows]

THE END.

"the moment i relax is the moment something gets worse. you surely haven't forgotten that i used to be you, right? i know how these things go." constant pressure, constant need to be on, and the pressure and stress only mount higher in this position than it had in archies. but donny has been the master of his own stress for most of his adult life. his learned behaviors make it impossible not to tamp it down the moment it starts to feel out of control. he knows exactly what the words are supposed to be, which smile is appropriate for the camera, when to look appropriately contrite.

the mention of his son causes a momentary tightening in his jaw, eyes slitting before he manages to return to the pleasant neutral expression that he's certainly been accused of practicing in the mirror. weston disappearing has certainly been the biggest headache of this entire ordeal. the boy is surprisingly resourceful, staying off the radar of most of his spies and only coming up when it seemingly would piss donny off the most.

just like his middle child to rebel in the most frustrating way possible. even diana hadn't been able to give him any clue, and his daughter was normally quite adept, at the very least, at keeping track of her brothers. inexplicably, she liked them, despite their failings.

"if his name is going to come up, let it come up. we can spin it. he's still in shock and grief over his mother, absolutely devastating to witness his breakdown, acting out, etcetra. besides, the jackals are the least of anyone's worries right now. unless they start publicly declaring for the shamrocks, the cultists, or turning this little war into a three way standoff instead of just staying the hell out of it, they're background players at best. i'm sure one of your informants could get me in touch with their leader. perhaps have a chat about keeping them that way, for now."

there's a pause, a moment where donny looks archie over and then offers a small hum. "do you think your brother could pass you anything about shamrocks next moves? he's affiliated, isn't he? or is he too strung out to actually retain information?"