#exercise steadfast dart

[pesoglav]

Special Operations Forces of Spain and the Joint Special Operations Command of Bulgaria at the joint exercise "Steadfast Dart 2025".

[darkmaga-returns]

We saw the cancelation of the Romanian election in December 2024, the final month of the Political Year from Hell. Calin Georgescu, who the media declared as a far-right extremist, won the election. The establishment cried, “RUSSIAN INTERFERENCE!” and has refused to acknowledge the results. Tens of thousands of people took to the streets on Sunday to demand President Klaus’ resignation.

The media is not covering this story anywhere as the establishment fears mass civil unrest. The Romanian people are understandably outraged that their government is completely ignoring the democratic process and denying them the right to vote for their future president.

The neocons are behind this utter disregard for democracy. The establishment has blamed Russia and TikTok for interfering in their election. Yet, the clear reason that they will not permit Georgescu to take office is due to his anti-NATO stance.

NATO’s largest exercise for 2025, Steadfast Dart 2025 (STDT25), is taking place in Romania, Bulgaria, and Greece. Over 10,000 allied military personal from nine NATO nations are partaking in this joint exercise. As explained by the Sofia Globe, “The exercise involves air, land, naval and special operations forces; 17 ships; more than 20 aircraft and helicopters, including EF2000, F16, AV 8B HARRIER fighters and A400 transport aircraft; more than 1500 pieces of military equipment, including tanks, multiple launch rocket systems, self-propelled artillery, infantry fighting vehicles (IFVs) and armoured personnel carriers (APCs).”

[alaskaenmelena]

NATO Steadfast Dart Exercises in Bulgaria

[cavenewstimestoday]

NATO allies to pledge capabilities to address growing threats

In NATO training exercise Steadfast Dart, the Allied Response Force conducted military operations in Romania in January and February 2025. French, Spanish and Romanian forces trained under British command. Credit: NATO ST. LOUIS – At the June NATO summit in the Netherlands, allies will outline specific capabilities to contribute to the alliance. “It won’t just be a pledge,” UK Royal Marines Maj.…

[cyberbenb]

As Trump mulls cuts, NATO's integrity is on the line

With the start of Donald Trump’s second term in office, NATO finds itself on shaky ground — reports that the U.S. president might cut the alliance’s funding do little to ease fears.

A leaked White House memo revealed plans to slash the U.S. State Department funding for the next fiscal year in half, with almost no money allocated for the common NATO budget.

The cuts would come as the alliance faces its most dire security challenge since the Cold War, as Russia wages an all-out war against Ukraine and slowly sets its sights on NATO members.

The move would also underscore Trump’s disregard for transatlantic security, which is already challenged by reported plans to withdraw some U.S. troops from Europe and relinquish leadership of European allied command.

But not all is said and done. The U.S. State Department pushed back against the reports on funding cuts, implying that the memo was a “suggestion” and reaffirming its commitment to the alliance.

Furthermore, the State Department does not carry the U.S. costs for NATO’s common budgets on its own, sharing the responsibility with the Defense Department.

Nor should one fall under the Trump-induced illusion that the U.S. pays for most of NATO’s operations — Washington pays for roughly one-sixth of NATO’s budgets, making it conceivable that other members can plug the whole.

‘You’re fools’ — US may ‘take a pass’ on Ukraine-Russia talks if either side stalls, Trump says

“If for some reason one of the two parties makes it very difficult, we’re just going to say: ‘you’re foolish, you’re fools, you’re horrible people,’ and we’re just going to take a pass. But hopefully we won’t have to do that,” U.S. President Donald Trump said.

The Kyiv IndependentKateryna Denisova

How is NATO funded — and what share does US really pay

Trump has caused some confusion about the scope of the U.S. contribution to NATO’s budget. He once went as far as to claim that the U.S. covers 80% of the alliance’s funding, a wild overstatement that resembles his false statements on the aid sent to Ukraine.

The U.S. president has often accused allies of taking advantage of the U.S.’s defense spending, presenting their lack of contributions as a “debt” owed to Washington.

While it is true that the U.S. overspends other NATO allies by a significant margin — representing two-thirds of the alliance’s overall defense spending — this has no relation to direct funding of NATO’s budgets.

NATO military forces take part in a static display after Exercise Steadfast Dart 2025 at the Smardan Training Area in Smardan, Romania, on Feb. 19, 2025. (Daniel Mihailescu / AFP via Getty Images)

The alliance’s day-to-day operations are funded through direct and indirect contributions by its members, calculated by their gross national income (GNI). Around $5.2 billion has been allocated for this year’s common budget, only about 0.3% of the total allied defense spending.

“Every member contributes to this common funding pool based on the size of their economy,” said James Goldgeier, professor at the School of International Service at American University.

“This money is separate from the funding each country provides for their own defense spending, which is what we usually focus on,” the researcher told the Kyiv Independent.

The U.S. and Germany shoulder the greatest portion of NATO’s common budget — roughly 16% each, or about $830 million in 2025. They are followed by the U.K. with 11% and France with 10%, while the other members' contributions are counted in single digits or even below 1%.

The funding is divided among three budgets. The $550 million civilian budget, which funds NATO Headquarters operations, consultations, and related costs, appears to be the one threatened by Trump’s planned State Department cuts.

The civilian budget is mostly supported by members' foreign ministries, while defense ministries foot the bill for the military budget, including missions, exercises, command structure operations, and more.

The NATO Security Investment Program (NSIP), an investment fund used mainly for the development of common facilities and installations, among others, is also funded via national defense budgets.

The Pentagon has not escaped the wide-reaching budget cuts the Trump administration unleashed upon government agencies in the name of cost savings.

U.S. Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth holds a closing press conference at the end of defense ministers' meetings at NATO headquarters in Brussels, Belgium, on Feb. 13, 2025. (Omar Havana / Getty Images)

Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth has already taken the axe to supposed “Diversity, Equity, Inclusion” (DEI) projects, with even more cost-saving measures expected in the future.

To the public’s knowledge, the Pentagon’s NATO funding is not on the chopping block — yet.

Trump has made no secret about his dislike of NATO, often criticizing allies for insufficient defense spending.

It was also Trump who, in his first term, negotiated reduced U.S. contributions to the alliance’s budgets. When he first took office in 2017, the U.S. covered 22% of NATO’s operational costs.

European partners must be ready that the figure may continue to drop as Washington pivots away from the transatlantic alliance.

All the president’s men: Inside the closed world of Putin’s key advisors

In Russian politics, all eyes are focused on one man: Russian President Vladimir Putin. But as ceasefire talks continue, the world’s attention has also been drawn to those sent forward to do the Kremlin’s bidding — whether at the negotiating table in Saudi Arabia or in the backrooms of Washington D.

The Kyiv IndependentKatie Marie Davies

Warning signs for Europe

While non-U.S. NATO members would likely be able to sustain the budget without Washington’s support, the cuts would signal much darker implications.

“The Europeans could fill the gap because these funds are not very large, but a U.S. pullback from this common funding would be yet another sign that this administration does not view NATO as a common endeavor of alliance members with a shared purpose,” Goldgeier said.

In whatever shape the cuts may come, they could not happen at a worse moment. Russia shows no signs of relenting in its all-out war against Ukraine and is already issuing direct threats to NATO’s eastern members.

The Trump administration is, in the meantime, expected to withdraw some 10,000 troops from the alliance’s eastern flank, signaling that Europe is no longer its priority.

During his first official visit to NATO Headquarters on April 3, Secretary of State Marco Rubio — often seen as the “adult in the room” within Trump’s team — sought to reassure the partners that the U.S. has no intention of leaving the alliance.

“President Trump has made clear he supports NATO. We’re going to remain in NATO,” Rubio said at a press briefing alongside NATO Secretary General Mark Rutte.

He has, nevertheless, repeated Trump’s call to increase the NATO defense spending benchmark to 5% of GDP, a request in stark contrast to possible cuts to the common funding.

U.S. Secretary of State Marco Rubio (L) speaks during a joint press conference with NATO Secretary General Mark Rutte during the NATO Foreign Affairs Ministers' meeting at NATO headquarters in Brussels, Belgium, on April 3, 2025. (Omar Havana / Getty Images)

The more MAGA-aligned U.S. officials are less restrained. Elon Musk, the world’s richest man who now holds unprecedented powers in Washington, openly supported an exit from NATO, and some hardline Republicans even submitted a bill to do just that.

In December 2023, then-Senator Rubio co-sponsored a bill that barred the president from unilaterally leaving the alliance without congressional approval. But even if Trump may find it difficult to leave NATO formally, some observers point out that his actions might still render the alliance de facto irrelevant.

The U.S. president has already directly challenged the alliance’s most sacred cornerstone, the collective defense principle, by saying he would not defend those members who do not spend enough on their security.

“It’s common sense, right,” Trump said in the Oval Office in March. “If they don’t pay, I’m not going to defend them. No, I’m not going to defend them."

The Europeans got the memo.

“The West as we knew it no longer exists,” European Commission President Ursula von der Leyen said in April amid the increasingly strained relations between the two sides of the Atlantic.

Underscoring the changing times, Friedrich Merz, the soon-to-be German chancellor, and a devout Atlanticist, declared right upon his election victory that his goal was “to strengthen Europe as quickly as possible so that, step by step, we can really achieve independence from the U.S."

US proposes leaving occupied areas under Russian control, easing sanctions, Bloomberg reports

One of the officials told Bloomberg that the U.S. plans, which require further discussion with Kyiv, would not be a final settlement and that European allies would not recognize the occupied territories as Russian.

The Kyiv IndependentKateryna Denisova

[greatparadisestrawberry]

Look before you leap, or you could end up in some mighty hot water.

Imagine life as an expansive, mysterious forest-a place of enchantment where the light dapples through the leaves in shifting patterns. The paths you tread are yours to choose, and each step can lead to delightful discovery or untamed obstacles. In this sylvan landscape, your spirit is a nimble deer, leaping with grace over fallen logs and streams swollen by recent rains.

General:

Today finds you deep within this verdant realm of existence-your senses attuned to both the beauty and challenges that lie ahead. As our courageous deer, you may encounter thorny thickets representing unforeseen difficulties on your journey. You're likely to come across these hindrances at every twist and turn; they're part of today's terrain. Don't be surprised if someone close shows their less appealing side-like a hissing serpent hidden among fragrant flowers-and tries to embroil you in their coil of jealousy or resentment.

But fear not for tomorrow holds promise despite its own trials; it might feel like working under the midday sun when all you yearn for is a frolic in an evening glade. Your resilience will shine brightly-if only you can navigate these two days with poise.

Health:

In matters of health, consider yourself akin to the sturdy oak tree standing tall amidst those looming obstacles-the embodiment of strength even when winds try to bend its boughs. While navigating uneven ground and avoiding brambles that scratch and claw at your well-being may require extra effort now, remember that self-care is paramount.

Take time out from darting between trees; rest upon soft patches of moss bathed in sunlight filtered through emerald leaves above-a moment stolen for meditation or deep breathing exercises could replenish your energy reserves immeasurably.

Love:

When it comes to love's unpredictable path through this woodland dreamscape, keep your heart open like a lotus flower floating serenely on a forest pool-even if around you eddies swirl with emotional unrest from others who may briefly forget how tenderly their words should land upon another's petals.

Instead of getting tangled up in vines heavy with other people's grievances or insecurities (that rearing snake again!), trust that true connections will flourish under nurturing rays just as wildflowers do-an unwavering belief that partnership grows most beautifully when grounded in mutual respect and understanding.

Work:

As far as work goes during these couple days fraught with distraction (the desire for play tugging incessantly at one's sleeve), view diligence as planting seeds along fertile soil-each task completed brings closer the harvest season filled with abundance.

Even though colleagues might seem cranky-like clouds casting shadows over ripe fields-you need not join them in their tempestuous weather patterns but remain steadfast like mountains guarding the horizon: unshakable pillars against which storms break yet cannot move.

So embrace today's quest through nature's labyrinth-with thick underbrush teaching patience while beckoning clearings offer respite-and know by nightfall's descent into star-speckled darkness followed by dawn's rosy fingertips painting morning skies anew: If successful navigation has been yours throughout both shadowed woods and golden meadows alike...you'll emerge golden too.

[bastillia]

Innocuous (NSFW)

Read on Ao3

Summary: You’re a medical officer aboard the Steadfast, and you’ve found yourself caring for a gravely injured Kylo Ren. He seems to require some unconventional treatment.

Rating: Extremely Explicit

Words: 7.5k

Content warnings: Somewhat graphic depictions of injury, wound/bloodplay, burnplay, oral bloodplay, oral sex (f recieving), orgasm denial/delay, choking, inappropriate use of the Force (and of a medical device oops), rough sex, extremely minimal aftercare, Kylo Ren is a nasty fucking boy, LISTEN this gets a lil dark ok, so just please consider before clicking ok tysm

A/N: I scrapped and restarted this whole thing at least twice, but we finally got there my friends. Is this over the top? Maybe. Do I have a single regret? No. Please heed the content warnings, you may have a bad day if you don’t. This is pure unadulterated filth. Enjoy!

Strips of fluorescent light ribbed the vacant hall, white beams streaking reflections across the glossy black floor like a frozen lane of hyperspace as the urgent click of your boots perturbed the calm. The corridors of the Steadfast were all but barren this time of cycle, only disturbed by the occasional patrol of noc shift troopers trudging mechanically in unison. Devoid of the usual bustle of footsteps and orders, the static hum from the ship’s walls washed the air with a bassy din of ambient noise that might be calming, were your heartbeat not adding an anxious percussion to the silence.

You really had no reason to be awake, you should have taken your sleeping aid hours ago, but the endless scroll of patient files on your datapad had kept you up just long enough to see the alarm flash. Hardly a momentary blip, but the peculiarity of it was what propelled you from your quarters and heated your step with urgency now. Medical Bay: Intake - Officer’s Ward, it had flashed, and then disappeared just as quickly.

Tapping the access pad that led to the sequestered corridor, you waited for the door to slide open and slipped through. Needles crawled up your spine as your gaze shifted around the familiar yet eerily still hallway, which was making you nervous now for absolutely no reason. Each private room should be empty, you knew you hadn’t checked any officers in for overnight care, and you could recite your inpatient registry as if it were etched into the backs of your eyelids. Droids didn’t typically throw faulty alarms -- maybe your eyes had simply deceived you after a long and fucking exhausting day of post-mission damage control in the med bay. Echoes of that exhaustion now placed a terror within each shadowed room that you passed, something that your brain was convinced would surely jump out at you.

You stopped dead as you reached the final door, half-hoping this one was your imagination. He was still. Too still. Limbs sprawling over the edges of the cot, with haphazard bandages crossing his bare torso aimlessly. They were visibly soaked through with blood, contrasting the blanched sheen of sweat-drenched skin, a black mop of hair askew over the pillow.

A violent spike of dread lanced down your spine. You darted into the room, your medical instincts hot-starting and roaring in your eardrums as you alighted upon him with gentle precision. Two fingers flashed to the pulse point at his neck, depressing the slick, hot skin there as your frantic eyes fell to the broad rise of his chest. Pulse. Breathing. Both too shallow and fast, but present, thank the stars.

You released the held breath that was starting to burn your lungs. The alarm. What had sent it? You glanced around. Monitor wires lay scattered over the floor around the metal feet of the bed, not a single one connected. A fizzling noise behind you nearly snapped your neck as you whipped around. A nurse droid lay lifeless, crumpled and sparking against the far wall.

Oh.

You turned slowly back to the unconscious Supreme Leader, fear trickling coldly down your veins in a moment of consideration. He’d wanted to be alone.

Your mind suddenly supplied you with an image of yourself in place of the droid, bones crunched like scrap metal against the wall, eyes glazed, life flickering and dying in the fried wires of your veins. How easy it would be -- effortless, even -- For him to crush the life out of you with little more than a flick of his wrist. How… maybe that knowledge made you tingle, just a little.

You derailed that train of thought with a sharp shake of your head as your eyes flicked across his battered torso and up the column of his neck, settling on the tranquility of his face. Bruised and bloody as it was, he looked… peaceful. Freckles and moles dusting his skin like starry kisses to soothe the ache of battle. His features, always chiseled from the sternest isoform of marble, now softened in sleep. Suspended in a paradoxical state of youthful serenity even as his body worked in overdrive just to tether him to life. He was… just a man. And he was absolutely beautiful.

Maybe you stared at him, just a little longer than you should, before committing to your courage and snatching an antiseptic cloth. If one of you was going to die, at least you were the more replaceable option. And this was what you’d signed up for, wasn’t it? To serve the First Order, even perhaps at the expense of your life. For… the greater good, or something. Yeah. Higher purpose and all that. You were a good medic, and good medics were selfless. It definitely wasn’t because you, perhaps, didn’t mind entertaining the thought of those large hands around your neck, squeezing...

Fucking focus.

Expertly, delicately, you began to peel back the blood-soaked evidence of his attempt to self-bandage, baring the flesh of his torso. Stars, he was magnificent. Glistening skin lay taut over lean muscle, a finely-tuned war machine sculpted by years of hard training, evident even in the depths of sleep. The subtle ripple of his muscles expanding and contracting with each breath spread that insistent tingle through your lower belly as you meticulously swiped the blood and sweat from his body.

Your hands danced to the pace of your heartbeat. Quick and steady, as you tossed the cloth and fitted a needle onto a syringe tip. A light pinch of his skin here, so that he wouldn't feel the prick of the shot there. Pure habit, not that a small needle stick would hold a candle to his injuries in terms of pain. But you didn’t really want him waking up just yet. You pushed the plunger down to administer a microdose of bacta. Just enough to hotwire the healing process, without dulling sensation.

You'd mused privately to yourself on more than one occasion, that you thought he liked to feel the pain. Whether it was a show of control, or an exercise in self-punishment, you couldn’t say. But you'd learned early on, working here, never to bring a pain suppressant around the former Commander.

Maybe no one else had ever picked up on that, because it seemed you were the only person he ever allowed near him with a bandage. You didn't mind. Nor did you mind the way his eyes always followed you quietly as you worked, as you'd gently cleanse his wounds from the battles and conquests that he fearlessly led as the new Supreme Leader of the First Order. You certainly liked him better than the last one. You thought maybe Ren even liked the way your fingers would subtly worship his figure with every quiet and efficient pass of gauze. Maybe he knew where those fingers ended up later. Sick bastard. A smirk tugged the corner of your lip.

His arm was hanging over the edge of the cot, a cautery pen still held loosely in his bloodied fingers. You sighed, removing the device, and picked his arm up to lay it neatly by his side. The weight of it caught your breath in your chest, the solid and heavy cord of muscle dwarfing your hands.

You quickly shook away the distraction, seating yourself on the bedside stool and turning to your most immediate concern: The deep, ripped laceration that bled from his lower abdomen. Vibroblade, you’d wager. It was oozing around the half-cauterized flesh, ugly and red from where he'd clearly begun to try and solder himself shut. You gently placed the cauterizer on the bedside stand. A crude tactic, and not one you would settle for, you decided as you retrieved a sterile suture pouch instead. Preparing another antiseptic cloth and gauze for the blood, you hovered back over the wound.

A realization started to echo along the tunnel of your focus, and the walls crashed away with a thump of your heart as you stared at Ren's flank beneath you, where his breathing had notably deepened and steadied. Your hands froze as your eyes shifted up the planes of his torso, cold spines gouging your chest as you reached his face. His eyes were open, fixed calmly upon your own stare, a flush restored to his full, pouted lips. Ice shattered in your veins.

"S-supreme Leader, I-” You dropped your materials onto the mattress, “You- you want to b-be alone, I'll j-just-" you were stammering, pushing your seat back, brain vibrating with panic. This was it. You escaped now, or you were joining the droid.

You made it about halfway to standing when a hand cinched on your wrist, arresting your movement. Your breath halted as you snapped back around, your heartbeat slamming in your throat.

Something boiled up behind his irises then, trapped so fiercely under the tempered surface of his eyes that his jaw locked tight and his chin quivered slightly with the strain of it. Your brain began to scramble. The look held an unmistakable need, a plea that said, so deafening in its silence, Stay.

You carefully held his gaze as you began to sink back down onto the small seat beside the bed. Your hand was trembling under his grip, every drop of air evaporating in your lungs as his pleading eyes burned through you. You slowly let yourself sit until your weight rested fully on the stool again.

Ren’s body slackened, releasing the air back into the room, and his head dropped back onto the thin pillow in a flutter of raven locks. His eyes drifted shut as a breath rolled through his nose and deep into his chest.

His grip had eased around your wrist, enough for your brain to now register the pleasant warmth of his enormous hand as it softly enveloped the lower part of your forearm. The sensation dumbfounded you for a moment as you stared between your arm and your Supreme Leader's face. The muscles in his brow twitched over his closed eyes as several more controlled breaths seemed to forcibly banish something from his body.

You came back to yourself as a trickle of dark blood drew your gaze back down to his abdomen, where it painted a river over bruised flesh before falling down his side to soak crimson sunbursts into the white sheet. You cautiously twisted your wrist free, and he let his hand drop softly back to the sheet without resistance. Hesitantly, you ran a hand across his skin, next to the gaping wound, inspecting the separated flesh. Firm muscles bunched under your touch, tugging at the ragged edges and inspiring another pulse of fresh red. You studied his face as his lashes lifted open again to meet your eyes. It took you a moment to find your breath.

"I... need to close this," you breathed, tracing a featherlight and completely instinctive touch of reassurance over his intact skin near the wound. He chewed the inside of his lip.

"Do it."

Your belly fluttered at the low command, his eyes never wavering from your gaze. You swallowed. Standing slowly to bend over his abdomen, you studied the open section of the wound. The edges were relatively clean, and it didn't look like the blade had made it deep enough to hit anything vital. The bleeding was nasty though, despite your meticulous cleaning job. His skin here would naturally be taut over firm abdominal muscles, a high tension area, you noted. You’d need to place dermal sutures if you wanted them to hold. Your brow knitted in preemptive sympathy.

“This is going to hurt.” You muttered.

Well, perhaps that was obvious. But stitching up conscious patients was not exactly your area of expertise, so maybe in a way, you were preparing yourself more than him. You were surprised at how well you managed to withhold the tremor from your hands as you quickly cleaned the wound again. It steeled your resolve slightly.

You tossed the soaked gauze, and plucked a curved needle and sinewy thread from the sterile bag. You readied your hand over the cleansed wound and flashed your gaze up to Kylo Ren’s eyes, waiting for... well, you didn’t know. Any kind of final approval or declination, maybe. He said nothing, but his eyes burned you steadily as his jaw locked in place, making the tightness in your chest flutter and twist. Swallowing, you turned back to the half-closed gash. You quickly threaded the first set-back stitch with nimble precision, and tugged the edges closed.

Ren’s muscles locked up with a full-body grunt, and a broad hand shot up from where it lay on the bed to grip the inside curve of your thigh. A jolt leapt through your body, setting your heart at a wild pace. Surely that was just a reflex. Surely he would let go. Blinking, you tried to find the voice in your chest.

"You… you have to r-relax." It came out more breathless than you intended as you fumbled only slightly with tying and cutting the thread. You paused to steady yourself, ignoring how warm your skin felt under his hand. A deep breath rolled through the Supreme Leader, and to your utmost shock, his core slackened obediently.

His hand did not leave your thigh. You took a breath and forced yourself to continue, fingers curling to pierce and thread the next suture through the tender, deep layer of skin. A lower, longer vibration left Ren’s nose as his large fingers gripped tighter into the soft pillow of your flesh. Your breath came shallow as your brain ignited, trying not to file that noise away under the category of pleasure. No. Stop that. You refused to indulge the thought, or the warmth that it shot through your lower body, as you refocused on your work.

You fixed your eyes firmly on your target, not letting yourself meet his gaze again. The next few sutures were accompanied by sounds from Ren that you diligently ignored. If you acknowledged what they sounded like, your focus would be obliterated. It already half was. But the growing hum at the apex of your thighs could not be indulged, could not break your concentration, even if it was just above where his hand… Oh.

Oh.

His thumb traced the slowest line along the crease of your groin.

It was impossible not to notice the stiffness that was beginning to tent his pants, close to where your face hovered over his lower abdomen. A shiver caressed your spine at the sight, as all of the heat in your body began to gravitate to the heartbeat in your cunt. You swallowed thickly. Stars help you, the sight of him. Supreme Leader Kylo fucking Ren, laying underneath you, his cock getting hard as you caused him excruciating pain. And you… you fucking... liked it.

His hand shifted then, sliding upwards to press a single, precise stroke along the concealed line of your heat. “Oh-” The soft moan came unwillingly from the bottom of your chest, and you braced one hand out on the mattress as your knees turned to liquid. Your body responded so automatically that it made your head spin, your thighs shifting wider, inviting his touch. You could have passed out when he curled his hand to pet another slow stripe over your clothed slit. 

Panting now, you lifted a pleading stare to meet his eyes. They were hooded black vats of desire, and your heart dropped right through your cervix as they drank you in. Your face tingled hot. Your brain wobbled along the line between finishing your task, and the primal need that was erupting through your belly. Either way, you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him to stop.

“Supreme Le-”

"Off." He interrupted lowly, pinching at the fabric of your pants. You weren't sure why you obeyed so fucking immediately, but before you could think, your thumbs were hooking into your waistband, and then you were stepping out of your boots, trousers, and underwear, kicking them carelessly across the floor. The tails of your white coat tickled your exposed skin as you positioned yourself back over his wound, wet cunt bared and leaking down your thighs. Cheeks burning with a heat that reached all the way down to your chest, you pointedly avoided his eyes. You tried to steady your hands, and you swore you could feel his gaze stoking a wildfire at your core. You swallowed, staring detachedly at your fingers.

No, the medic instinct in you wouldn’t allow you to leave your work half finished. If you had the wherewithal to think about it, you might have concluded that he knew this, but that didn’t mean he would hold back in making it as difficult as possible for you now that you were, well, in this state. Taking a breath, you threaded another stitch. This time he shamelessly groaned, and his fingers slipped easily through the silky heat of your slit. You gasped, almost doubling over again as you tied off the suture.

You finally looked at him. His nostrils were flared and his throat bobbed, as he watched his own long fingers collect the wetness that leaked from your core. Pleasure and shame waged war across your skin, and your knees went weak as he met your eyes again.

“Keep going,” he stated calmly, gesturing with only his eyes towards the wound that was now nearly shut.

“Fuck,” you whispered, eliciting a hiss of breath from the Supreme Leader as his fingers passed in a slow arc around the top of your stiff clit.

How you managed it, you had no idea, but in very little time you were looping the last thread over itself, tightening it, and cutting. You blinked, looking back along the neat line of sutures as Ren continued idly stroking at your slit, sending shocks down to your toes.

“D-done.” You stammered as you shuffled your supplies together and started to step back.

With a flash of rippling muscle, Ren sat up and captured the back of your neck, pulling you in just inches from the strong curve of his nose. Your materials clattered to the floor as your legs nearly buckled from the sudden weight of his proximity, his gaze pitching you in an inky black tide of lust.

“Gentle little thing,” he pondered, running a thumb under your jaw. Your lungs simply didn’t function any more, you decided, as heat chased the air from the bottom of your bronchioles and out into the space between you. “I’ve wondered about you.”

Your voice hiccuped dumbly in your chest. “Ab-bout me, S-supreme Lead- oh.” Your question hung unfinished from your slack jaw as the pad of his finger shifted wetly across your clit, shooting a liquid flame up your spine that burst in your brain.

“Mm,” he supplied in acknowledgement, his lust-blackened gaze all but swallowing you whole. “Such a pretty thing...” Heat flowered in your cheeks again. “So unassuming.” He slid two fingers down your slick folds towards your entrance, and the delicate stem of a whimper crawled from your throat.

“You want to let go.” He stated in a deep, near-whisper. “Don’t lie to yourself, officer, I can feel your need for it.” You shuddered. Absolutely you wanted to let go. You wanted to do a lot of things, but mostly anything that would elicit those sounds that he was making before, while you punctured his dermis with a curved fucking needle.

“Yes, Supreme Leader.” Your voice seemed far away in your own ears.

The hand around the back of your neck curled slowly until it tightened into the hair follicles at your nape, and the pinpricks sent a thrilling voltage through your nerves that made you gasp.

"Just as I thought," he hummed, the smallest hint at a smirk twitching on the corner of his mouth. “Your desires are far from innocuous.” The lust that thickened his voice had you clenching.

He held your hair tightly, the pain scraping down your spine and feeding heat into the coiling, writhing need that hummed above your thighs. He began to lean back and pull you with him, until you had to shuffle your knee onto the mattress to keep from falling. His hand abandoned the wet heat between your legs, and a solid arm slid impatiently around your waist instead, pulling your hips firmly over him until you straddled his lap on the generous cot.

The feeling of his clothed, straining cock nestling against your folds chased a whine over your lips, and Ren caught it in its tracks, drinking down the sound as his plush lips claimed your open mouth. Fire exploded through your body and your hands flew to his chest, sliding up over hot, bruised skin until your nails were dragging up his neck and into the inky softness of his hair. A deep growl quaked in his chest and his tongue slid greedily across the roof of your mouth, coaxing your jaw wider for him.

You felt his hands slide to grasp the lapels of your coat and yank them over your shoulders. With a thrill of excitement, you threw your arms back to allow him to shuck the garment roughly from your body. Your shirt followed over your head, forcing you to surface from the depths of the kiss with a vulgar wet sound. The second you were free, his massive hand trapped your wrists behind your back, and you gasped at the sudden feeling of immobility. Kylo Ren pinned you under his dark gaze, pulling your arms to arch your back and press your tits up towards him, his eyes devouring the bareness of you that he displayed for himself.

Then he lunged. His hot mouth latched into your neck and worked down to your chest, his strong grip arching you further until his lips pursed around your pebbled nipple. Your jaw fell open in a gasp as he slid his tongue across the bud and drew it between his teeth, pinching just hard enough to leave it aching, and mirrored the action on your other breast. He hummed as he moved back up to lick wet, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, sliding along your skin until you felt hot breath flood the sensitive hollow of your ear.

“I wonder how you taste, pretty thing.”

The sound that left you was fucking obscene, his words dissolving every bone in your body. You instinctually ground down on his swollen cock, seeking pressure lest your cunt actually rupture with need.

He began to lay back, his hands releasing your wrists, and your strained muscles flooded with relief. Clutching your thighs, he pulled your hips insistently to follow his face back to the head of the cot. A nervous tremor wracked you as he guided your thighs over his shoulders, the realization crashing over you all at once. You were about to sit on the face of the most dangerous man in the fucking galaxy. He closed his eyes and pressed his nose to your mons, inhaling deeply and releasing a growling moan that vibrated right up your body.

A deep magenta bruise flowered his temple and cheekbone, decorating the seam where the flesh of your thigh now ended and his face began. Your core clenched in anxious anticipation, and he turned his face to sink his teeth into the tender flesh of your thigh. Remnants of fear were still paralyzing your chest, but the bolt of pain that flashed up your body pierced through it and into your brain for a moment of blissful clarity. You moaned as you suddenly registered just how much pulsing heat was settling inside your walls, aching now to be soothed by his tongue. He ran his hands down your sides and gripped your hips, and he leveled a dark look up at you that liquefied your bones.

"Please…" you began to whisper.

In a flash, he took your hands and pinned them to the small of your back, then thrust his warm, flat tongue against your cunt with a low groan. Your mouth fell open in a silent cry as he licked a wide stroke up the length of your slit, parting your folds and dragging the flat of his tongue across your swollen nub. Tingling pleasure erupted through your lower body, the feeling of him warm and divine and utterly unbelievable. He moved slowly, almost lazily, lost in the taste and scent of you as he began to work that beautiful mouth over every inch of your cunt.

You shifted your hips in desperation, trying to ride his face and gain more friction on the ache that was coiling in your clit, but he locked your arms up roughly, immobilizing you with one of his huge hands around both of your wrists. You whined and he resumed his torturous pace, lapping at you indulgently, rolling his nose across your clit, building a hot pressure in your core that cried painfully for release.

When his lips finally pursed around your bud, his tongue sliding across it in a way that shot light behind your retinas, it was enough to send you reeling. “Oh, fuck-” you groaned as you felt your orgasm start to pull up tight and hot, your body desperately grasping at its relief.  But then it was plateauing, ebbing, as he slowed and slid his silky tongue away from that epicenter of pleasure.

“No, pl-please, please--” you wailed as you felt your impending orgasm slip away down your spine.

Ignoring you, Ren closed his eyes and swallowed with a grunt, sucking down the arousal that had gushed from your entrance, and you felt it travel through his whole body as he went rigid. He shuddered in consummate pleasure then, and your brain suddenly shifted from grieving your denied orgasm to wondering where his other hand might be. You imagined it wrapped around his own cock, and the thought tightened heat around your spine.

You craned a glance over your shoulder, but the sight that met you paralyzed your brain. His cock was free of his trousers, beautifully hard and leaking a bead of precum onto his stomach, untouched. His fingers were instead plunged into the neat line of sutures that studded his low abdomen, fresh crimson welling around his pressure-whitened fingertips as his body trembled. A protest shot instinctively through your chest. 

“Don’t-”

Two huge hands hooked over your thighs, smearing you with red, and yanked your ass back onto the warm, broad expanse of his chest, cutting off your objection with a breathy yelp. You had little time to bemoan the absence of his mouth at your center before your world was spinning, as Ren flipped you underneath him in a shockingly strong, fluid motion that inverted your senses.

You flailed an arm behind you for balance, but before you could get your bearings, he was hauling you effortlessly down the thin mattress by your hips. A squeak escaped you as your shoulders met linen, and then you were wailing as he devoured you again, his eager tongue sliding hot and heavily down your folds. 

He groaned and slipped two blood-drenched fingers into you, pumping and scissoring them slowly as he massaged your clit with his mouth. Shock and pleasure quaked in equal magnitude through your body, every instinct clashing in a spectacular array as your brain fought against itself. You wanted to be horrified, sickened even, but every nerve ending was screaming in nothing but wretched liberation.

In a wash of euphoria, you submitted to it, let your fingers find and lock into his sweat-dampened hair, let yourself sigh and clench around his warm, wet digits as they stroked against something devastating inside of you. He built you up like this again, higher, tighter, but before you could reach the apex of that perfect ache, just when you were whimpering with the promise of shattering into bliss, something began to coil around your spine. An invisible force -- the Force -- squeezing dark numbness down every nerve below your lumbar spine.

No, no, fuck. Tears rushed to your eyes and you choked out a sob, as you trembled in excruciating bereavement. Your wrists were wrenched to your side and tacked to the bed with that same invisible power while Ren continued to indulge himself in your numb cunt, sucking and lapping steadily at your wet heat. Your insides blazed with need and neglect as you watched him slide his fingers out of you and into his mouth, humming in satisfaction as he savored the mixture of his blood and your slick. That was it. You couldn’t keep quiet.

“Kylo, please-”

His eyes locked onto yours, lips still pursed around his fingers. You did not mean to call him that. You quailed suddenly, in your state of helplessness, at the sight of the large man as he began to crawl over you. He kicked off his trousers, looming until you were caged underneath his powerful body and staring helplessly up into the wicked excitement that roiled in his irises.

“Poor, poor thing,” He taunted as an electric current of sensation shot back down your legs, causing you to yelp. His hips rocked to part your slit with the velvety weight of his cock, his swollen and weeping head dragging moisture across your clit as it tingled with renewed feeling.

“So desperate to cum that you’d forget all respect for me.” The words dripped from his lips to pour over your neck as he nipped above your clavicle, seeping into your blood and heating it tenfold. He felt heavy and inviting and perfect, and you clutched your nails sharply into his sides as a crippling wave of need crashed down your spine. He hissed in a breath, letting it out in a nearly inaudible “Fuck.”

A tear spilled down your cheekbone. He was right, you were absolutely fucking desperate, coiled painfully tight after being ripped back from the edge twice. This was his particular brand of mutual torture, denying your release and losing himself in his pain. You needed to do something, anything, to fracture that infuriating, adamantine control. Anything to break the endless cycle of torment.

Your eyes were drawn down to a river of crimson that streaked into the valley of his hip, welling from the fresh spring of your sutures. A writhing, dark desire slithered up your brain stem, burning with some foreign audacity, and it moved your hand almost on its own. Fuck it, you could play this game, too. 

“Please, Supreme Leader,” You corrected yourself, letting your voice thicken through your tears to a noxious sweetness. “I’ll do anything.” 

Your palm slid to his low abdomen, collecting the warm blood with your thumb and sliding it back up towards the neatly closed wound. You slowly ran your slick digit along the raw edge, your breath catching in your chest as you flicked your gaze back to his eyes, just inches in front of yours. His lips hung open slightly, in disbelief, in want, it was impossible to say. But his pupils were blown wide and hungry as he stilled, the smallest twitch of his eye daring you, pleading you, to continue.

“Anything…” you emphasized in a whisper, holding his stare through your damp lashes as you pressed your thumb into the bruised, inflamed skin, crushing your finger straight into the raw nerves. You dug down, down, watching his lips slowly pull into a wild snarl of pain, his thick cock twitching against your folds as a ragged groan tore through his teeth. You were panting now, watching his eyes as they filled with liquid black fire, unblinking, burning through you.

Heart pounding, you pressed further, building a pinpoint of pressure over the closed wound until you felt the fine strand of a suture give way under the pad of your thumb, popping open with a soft shift of flesh. A choked roar ripped itself from Ren’s chest as his hand came down on your throat. His eyes were glazed with a terrifying need, inches from yours, strands of hair beginning to mat on his face as sweat decorated his skin.

His hips began to sink heavily. The head of his cock pushed past your folds, pressing insistently at the tight heat of your entrance. You whimpered, pulse racing under his grip, and braced your hand involuntarily against his abdomen as your walls began to stretch, the wet sting reverberating up your spine. Your eyes shot to his, pleading, but found them fiendish.

"You’re going to take all of me, pretty thing." His voice was barely above a ragged whisper, caged behind rusted bars of restraint that were slowly splintering across his eyes as he broke you open. “And you’re going to cum around my fucking cock when I tell you to.”

It was all you could do to simply whimper and nod, his words paired with the intense stretch effectively wiping your brain blank now. And the stretch kept coming, endlessly, filling you completely, until you thought you might crack in half. When he finally sheathed himself, his body flattened down heavily on top of you, pinning your hips wide open. You couldn’t move your hand, his sheer mass was crushing your thumb inside the wet, raised flesh of the wound as you felt it leak warmly around the base. A sound caught in Ren’s throat, and a shudder wracked his whole body.

He laid there for only a moment, crushing the air from your lungs, bathing in the pain, before he lifted his torso and began to thrust. Still slowly, still so controlled, breath rolling hot and rabid down your neck. You pulled your thumb from beneath his skin with a sickening squelch. Trembling, a morbid urge had you bringing the hand up to your mouth.

You moved to flick your tongue out over the warm, coppery liquid that was now coating your thumb and beginning to run down your forearm. In an instant, Ren snatched your wrist and pinned it beside your head. Something utterly feral played across his eyes that made your stomach squirm.

He panted through his teeth, eyes drifting across your face to the hand that he had pinned down. “You want a taste, whore?” His tone was somewhere between incredulous and eager, only fueling your desire to pry further at the seams of his restraint. You bit your bottom lip, lifting a pleading look into his eyes, and nodded with a whimper.

“Yes, please, ple-- Ah!” He slammed his cock into your cervix, making you cry out.

He snatched your wrist up with a grunt and enveloped your thumb with the heat of his mouth, swirling his strong, silky tongue around your knuckle to collect the liquid. Your head spun as he drew his lips up and off of your digit, slamming your wrist back down to the mattress and crushing his mouth to yours. His tongue pushed ravenously past the guard of your teeth, and your palette lit up with the sharp mix of metallic blood and the remnants of your cunt on his lips.

It was deafening, the rush that cascaded between your ears and crashed down your body at the visceral taste, the sensation of his hot tongue swiping across yours, passing the grotesque mixture back and forth. You moaned into his mouth and he shuddered, gripping your jaw muscles to force your mouth open as he drew away, resuming the rhythm of his thrusts. He spat a thick emulsion of blood and saliva into your open mouth before releasing your face, shoving your jaw closed with the heel of his palm. From this angle he could see your neck ripple as you swallowed, and the sight had him deepening his thrusts with a low groan.

Yes, yes, finally. His cock stroked fire along your walls, the sensation of fullness making your eyes roll into your skull. Drunk from deprivation, you wanted more. You blindly reached down the contour of his obliques and drove your thumb back into his wound, finding the slight firmness of another suture and digging into his flesh until you felt a sinewy pop. Kylo Ren roared, his hips stuttering as his body locked up in a rippling wave of tension. Eyes wild, he gripped your throat again, yanking you roughly as your eyes flew open and met his.

“Fucking filthy slut.”

He slammed into you at a merciless pace, hurtling you past any possibility of orgasm and straight into overstimulation as your body burned around him. Your vision swam, your ears beginning to ring as he pounded you relentlessly. Blood struggled to reach your brain under his grip, building a pressure in your skull that made your face vibrate.

He slowed his pace suddenly, and heat sparked to the tips of your nerves again, alighting on every inch of your quivering skin and fuck, you were close. Oh, fuckfuckfuc--

“Cum. Cum for me. Fuck!”

Ren wildly snatched the cautery pen from where you left it on the bed stand, lit it, and plunged the glowing tines straight into the flesh of your thigh. White hot pain fractured your vision, locked every muscle down tight with a scream you couldn’t hear as your orgasm eviscerated you.

Breath stuttered back into your lungs in hazy, broken sobs. Euphoric pain was weeping from your nerves, flowing across your skin to rival the tears that now ran free and hot down your face while razorblades of pleasure still flayed your veins open. The ringing in your ears finally began to give way to low grunts breaking over the fragmented tide of your sobs.

“Good girl, g-ood, fuck-- shh... pretty fucking thing.” Ren’s deep murmurs faded into your eardrums, the words slurring and thickening through his teeth as he pried the tool from your sizzling flesh. He set it aside, pace unrelenting, and dragged a hand over your cheek. Sticky blood mixed with your tears as his fingers fastened into the flesh of your face. He watched your eyes come back into focus, his own glazed in primal rapture.

He propelled a few more slamming thrusts into the depths of you as the death throes of your orgasm withered on your skin. And then you were empty, gasping, and he was flipping you over so easily you didn’t know which way was up any more. Your breath was muffled by a pillow, and you turned your face just in time for a massive, dirty hand to come down on your cheekbone.

He crushed your face into the fabric, wrestling your hips upwards with his other forearm until your knees reluctantly shifted up to support them. You whimpered at the pressure on your skull and the throbbing pain that radiated from your thigh, but the sound deepened in your chest when you felt the blunt head of his cock graze along your swollen lips. Stars, you needed him to fill you in any way, your emptiness now entwining with your pain to send a cry of grief through your shuddering bones that could only be soothed by that voice, those hands, that perfectly thick cock in any part of you. Overcome, you moaned for it.

“Fuck,” he rasped, dragging his tip back and forth over your clit, adding skittering jolts to the ache that might as well be burning away your peritoneum like paper, causing your organs to pour out over the floor in gruesome mercy. He slid his hand back along the curve of your spine, releasing your face, and you gasped in the acrid taste of copper. His palms smothered your ass, fingers splaying wide and squeezing, pulling your cheeks up and apart for his view. It was filthy, the eroticism of it, but shame was a faraway song in the tempest of your need, barely heard as you clutched the sheets and arched in presentation for him. You heard a hissing intake of breath, which he let out in a slew of unintelligible filth as the fat head of his cock slowly split you again.

Even after just moments of vacancy you had to readjust to the size of him, but the stretch was utterly demulcent this time as he gradually sheathed himself in your aching walls until his head was grinding down against your cervix. Your eyes flew wide with a gasp as you clawed the sheet, streaking it redder, willing your body to relax around the merciless presence of his cock. He pumped his hips once, slowly, powerfully, and your eyes rolled back again as your muscles turned to warm jelly.

“Kylo…” You barely heard yourself moan out, and you had no idea whether he heard you either, as a loud groan suddenly kicked up his pace and the decibels of his rambling.

“Ffffuuck, feel sofuckinggood, so tight…. fucking perfect little cunt…”

You could die, you could actually fucking die from how it felt to lose yourself in this, how possessed you were by the repulsive freedom of it, of him, spitting filthy nothings into the thick air while you entwined yourselves in the dirty rut of shameless pleasure and pain.

You felt hot liquid trickle into the seam between your flesh and Ren’s with the next few smacks of his hips against your ass. His pace faltered, and he fell over you like a snarling carnivore, palms slamming down on the backs of your hands and pinning them beside your head. His breath tickled hot in your ear, and you shuddered, clenching around him.

“I’m going to make you cum again.” He snarled, before yanking you back sharply by your hair until you were nearly upright on your knees, your shoulder blades meeting the warmth of his chest. You caught a flash of blood-coated fingers as they reached around you and began to rub hot, wet circles over your clit.

“Like the filthy fucking whore you are. That I- fuck- knew you were.”

Your muscles gave out as he spoke, your body supported only by his overbearing strength, as euphoria wrapped your nerve endings in white flame. You were keening, though you could hardly hear yourself, as the pressure on your clit started to pull a second orgasm outward from your bones.

His hips pounded ruthlessly against your ass as he brutally fucked you, the force of it knocking air from your lungs with every impact. A glow began to erupt from your spine with the next few passes of his fingers over your clit, and then you were cumming, hard, sailing into an abyss of ecstasy that swallowed your sight. When you resurfaced he was roaring, his arm a vice around your ribs, his cock slamming deep and slow inside of your quaking walls and pulsing with his release. 

Ren collapsed on top of you, flattening you into the mattress. Dizziness swam through your blood, intensified by his weight crushing your lungs. He felt warm, sated, absolutely sublime as your spent hole fluttered around his cock, the sensation of his damp breaths on your shoulder easily overriding your need for oxygen. You were perfectly content to lay like this until you blacked out, if that’s what it would take to keep him there.

But then he was rolling off of you, a soft groan rumbling through his body as the cold air of the room kissed the sweat on your spine. It sobered you like an ice bath and you shifted away from him, suddenly feeling the weight of a needed distance between yourself and the Supreme Leader. You dropped your legs to the floor to stand, and pain ricocheted up your body from your thigh. You winced as your leg buckled in a blatant refusal to support your weight, catching yourself on the edge of the bed frame.

You instead sank back onto the small stool, and felt it become slick with cum as you grabbed wads of gauze from a drawer in the bed stand. Blood was gushing from his abdomen again, joining the sheen of bright red that mottled most of his skin as well as the sheets, and you began to work mechanically to staunch the flow once more. Kylo shifted onto his back and let you do it, his eyes falling shut as panting breaths oscillated through his chest. You were filthy, you registered, as you looked down at the red-brown crust of half dried blood that was smeared on your hands and all the way up your forearms.

You gently dabbed at his skin, slowly cleansing the mess and wrangling the bleeding back under your practiced control. The edges of your skin practically cried out in neglect, the dull pain that thrummed through your body begging to be soothed by even the smallest of tender touches that you didn’t dare ask for. The pain seemed to catch up to him as well now. He breathed through it, but you saw it lock up in his exhales, in the tense pull of his brow over his dark lashes. You let the pass of his skin under your palms soothe you both until his bare skin glowed clean and the bleeding was no more than a steady trickle.

Staring at his comparatively clean body under your blood-crusted hands, you suddenly felt disgustingly exposed in your nakedness. You stooped quickly to grab the leg of your pants where they lay on the floor, but Ren’s hand gripped your arm roughly, yanking your elbow back onto the stained mattress.

"Oh, pretty thing.” He growled. “We're not finished, yet."

[blueaphelion]

One more week until posting day for the Rebels Minibang! This is the last little preview until you get to read the whole fic on October 3rd :)

This fic is spicy and rated E!

“Running All Night”

A Skybridger fic set immediately after the events of the episode “Twin Suns”

Snippet #3:

Ezra couldn’t help glancing down at Luke’s smirking lips. Slowly, he leaned closer to Luke so their faces were only several inches apart. Luke remained steadfast in his position, not flinching or backing away in the slightest. Blue eyes darted downwards in the direction of Ezra’s mouth before flicking back up again.

Hesitantly, Ezra raised a hand towards Luke’s face, and asked softly, “Can I…?”

Luke bit his bottom lip, and then quickly nodded.

Ezra so desperately wanted to dive enthusiastically at Luke’s mouth, but he exercised Jedi-trained restraint. Gently cupping Luke’s cheek, they instead met in the middle with a soft touch of the lips. Featherlight grazes had electricity shooting down Ezra’s spine and pooling low in his abdomen, until he couldn’t take the softness anymore. He tilted his head and parted his lips slightly, allowing Luke deeper access and movement.

Their breaths came faster now between wet smacks and little hums. Experimentally, Ezra dipped the tip of his tongue between Luke’s teeth, and Luke gently bit down.

And with that, a dam broke within him.

It’s all downhill from there… ;)

[elmidol]

The Entangled Strings of Twin Puppets

Three Blind Tooke Part Two Precarious Harmony

Read on AO3

Warnings: nonexplicit mentions of previous noncon situations

In the long pauses before death, we seek solitude in the silence.

There are no poems, no words at all for us to hear.

Merely a look that ties us all together until at last it is gone.

Be careful not to blink, for those long pauses are fleeting moments.

Three Blind Tooke

Part Two: Precarious Harmony

Chapter Twenty-Five: The Entangled Strings of Twin Puppets

You had spent years training with the Resistance in order to deliver a kill shot to one of the New Republic’s most formidable foes: Kylo Ren. He was an enemy the New Republic had been oblivious to, much in the same way they had denied the threat posed by the First Order. That had, ultimately, been their undoing; Starkiller Base, prior to its destruction, had obliterated the entire Hosnian System, the Galactic Senate along with it. Your mother had perished that day. Your father had already passed away during the time you had been absent, though this you had not learned until after you had been taken captive by Kylo Ren. Your body was not the same after the attack that had nearly left you dead; the lightsaber wound had compromised your body. And so now you were to retrain yourself—both physically and emotionally—in order to discover a new means of killing the man that was your captor—your host.

It was ironic, that you were in some twisted way the guest of someone who had imprisoned you. Had done unspeakable things to you—all in order to break you down. The horrors of war were something that not all could understand. The sights that were faced by those at the forefront. The acts committed, all said to be for the sake of the greater good. Each side had its own idea as to what that greater good would be. There were always those torn in the middle. People so conflicted over their morals that they were ripped apart—at times, solely figuratively, while other times a literal instance of this would occur. It was not only the acts or words of the leaders of either side that led to this. For example, General Leia was the mother of Kylo Ren. The man who had formerly been Ben Solo; a fact you had learned only after being made his prisoner. You had been trained to kill him, all the while your general had not wished this. Splinter cells. Every piece working to do what they believed would help the cause.

Ultimately hurting one another. It had broken you completely in ways—to find that you could have compassion for an enemy…empathy. You despised his methods though you understood where they came from.

Both a prisoner and a guest of the Master of the Knights of Ren, you were presently alone in his living quarters. The door was locked, this you well knew, and yet it was not to keep you in. No, it was locked in order to keep out a specific individual.

You had heard much of the First Order’s General Hux prior to meeting the man. When you had spoken with him, you had eventually admitted your respect for him—as a leader, though his ideals were anything but those held by you. You despised what he stood for, and yet… It was with revulsion that you had to admit to yourself yet again that you had allowed the man to touch you, to have sex with you, and on more than one occasion. That he was your enemy was of no consequence; that did not toke the fires of your anger. It was that he had ordered the destruction of the Hosnian system, had essentially ordered your mother’s death—you had had sex with your mother’s killer.

When at last you finished with Kylo Ren, when you were able to kill the man who had stolen your freedom, you would deal with the redhead. You executed another four sit-ups then allowed yourself to lie down to relax. Your stamina was lacking. All the while Kylo Ren was healing from his injuries; his training with his Master would begin within mere days.

Patience. It was a mantra that was repeated in your head six times before you thought to yourself: the Rule of Two. This was what Ren had equated your arrangement with him to. He well knew that your intentions were to become stronger and kill him. All the while he used this as a means to strengthen himself. A façade of harmony.

The two of you.

He wanted to be the center of your world, as he had been for so long. General Hux would be a distraction, his very presence a threat to that rule of two. You grit your teeth and started to raise your torso. Another set of four sit-ups. It was taking its toll on your body, which was out of shape. Sweat dripped down your back. General Hux could not be your focus as much as Kylo Ren. That would render you sloppy, as you had been in the past. Focusing on too much at once. Not being patient.

There is no Resistance, you said in your head. The members of the Resistance would bench you if they could; take what information you were able to provide, yet allow you to assist no further.

In a way, you understood why this would be. It was not only your body that was compromised. You remained steadfast in your loyalties. Still, you could not deny that empathy. That compassion. Understanding your enemy and knowing that there were certain aspects of him that you could… You broke off that thought, afraid of it. Such a terrifying thing, learning that you could hate a number of individuals for what they did…yet care for specific members of that establishment as well.

Why did you kill my comrades? you wanted to ask despite knowing the answer. The sting would never fade. You would always sit there, shell-shocked in the face of the outcome.

You were now acting on your own. It would benefit the Resistance, the galaxy, and yet you were no longer under the rules that had governed your actions in the past. The rules of the New Republic itself. But fuck if my body isn’t resisting me...

You collapsed onto your back again. Tears of frustration stung your eyes. You had known ahead of time that it would take more than a single exercise session to get to where you needed to be. New limits. New rules. Finding a way to balance your loyalties and your heart.

The Rule of Two.

Panting, you listened passively to a quiet beeping that was coming from the device beside your head. The electronic tooke pet Kylo Ren had provided you as a form of entertainment. You reached to the side, lifted the device, and played a small game with the tooke. Your heart took a few moments longer to return to a normal pace. You felt utterly drained of energy, which caused your frown to spread further. You fed the electronic pet, set down the device, and placed both your hands atop your stomach, one above the other.

“You can do this,” you said to yourself. “Just relax. Patience…patience…”

Stars, you thought, you had been in isolation for part of your training as well as while imprisoned. With nothing to do. Biding your time. That had been before you had learned of your father’s demise. Before your mother had been murdered by the actions of the First Order.

A beeping drew you out of your thoughts. You rolled up into a sitting position as Kylo Ren was putting in the code to enter his quarters. And then you were on your feet when the doors opened—and you felt your stomach drop. The nozzle of a blaster was pointed your way. Not Ren. In the place of one monster was another. You lifted your hands into the air to show that you were surrendering—temporarily. A shiver caused your teeth to chatter together. The sweat that had poured from your body during your exercises now assisted in making you too cold.

You glowered at the man holding onto the blaster that was pointed in your direction. “As if I could not get any code that has to do with my ship, tooka,” General Hux said through his snarl. You kept your hands raised in the air for half a second longer before slowly lowering your limbs. Your eyes darted away from his face to the blaster. He seemed to want you alive, which meant it would be set to stun rather than kill. Even if you managed to wrest the weapon out of his grasp, it would do you no good; you recalled that it was encrypted to work only with his fingerprints. The redhead tilted his head back and stared down the length of his nose at you. “You will come out of this room now.”

“You’re…taking me hostage?” you asked mockingly. As if you were a free woman to begin with. You snorted at the thought.

“You may relax if you believe it is my intention to rape you,” he said evenly. You barked out a bitter laugh at that.

“No, General. You do far worse than that, don’t you?” The corner of his mouth twitched, however his expression did not twist away from the frown that was plastered there. You took a step forward towards the open door of Ren’s quarters. The moment you left the sanctity of this room, the moment you were truly taken into custody by the general of the First Order instead of the Master of the Knights of Ren—that would change the game once more. There would be no Rule of Two. There would be three of you once more at that point.

A fresh wave of sweat began to form, beading on your flesh. This time it was from apprehension rather than exertion. Forced upon you instead of self-induced. You began to slide one foot backwards only to pause in your movements. General Hux had quirked a brow, challenging you with that expression.

“Are you content with being a small tooke then?” You narrowed your eyes while you watched him, more suspicion welling up inside of you. “A tooka, at least, has claws and teeth.”

“A tooke can defeat a rancor.”

“If the rancor first consumes it. Toxic… If you plan on eliminating me as well—and I am certain you are—you won’t be so reckless.”

Kriff, you thought as your heart fluttered in your chest. Kriff…he has a point. Or is he just that eloquent? So deceptive?

“You haven’t a choice when it comes down to it. I plan on taking you, whether you’re stunned and I am dragging you, or be it by you walking out of there.” Aware that it would do your compromised body excessive harm, and thus damper your plans, to even be stunned, you slid your foot forward this time. Then, lifting the limb, you took the first step towards the redhead. He said nothing, his face not betraying anything either. The man was observing you as he had so often in the past. Calculating. He knew better than to underestimate you.

You entered the hallway, fully exiting the quarters of Kylo Ren, and the door closed behind you. By then your heart was starting to race again. What sort of sick game were you being thrust into now? This was where General Hux was the player. Perhaps you were only his pawn, as you had been in the past. He waited until you were in front of him then gestured that you keep walking. The gun was pointed at your back.

You had at long last accepted Ren’s suggestion that you were, in some twisted way, his guest—and now you were being stolen away. Another hitch in your plans. No matter, you told yourself; you would adapt to the situation, as you had been forced to do ever since your capture.

“Did it thrill you, knowing that you were ordering my mother’s death?” you asked when the pair of you turned down the second hallway. You were not entirely certain where it was he was taking you. This was not the way to the general’s quarters; you had been there enough times to know better. General Hux did not respond to your inquiry, which caused your face to grow hot in frustration. Anger welled up inside of you. Knowing better than to unleash your rage, knowing that he had the upper hand and would simply shoot you there, you addressed him in a different fashion. “I hear your precious Starkiller Base was destroyed. Good riddance.”

“It is not often I am in the company of such a bitter woman.” A pause. “Turn left here.” You rolled your eyes though you complied all the same. Where? Where? Where am I going? “I do not understand Supreme Leader’s insistence on keeping Ren, on my rescuing him before the destruction of the planet.”

Ah, is this why he’s kidnapping me? It does not seem like him to be so petty. He must have other plans.

“And you…”

“Me?” you asked under your breath, grumbling now. After your mini workout, you were exhausted, though you refused to admit this to the man. In truth, you were nearly ready to collapse.

“You survived his blade in the past,” General Hux replied. You glanced over your shoulder, stumbling your next step. “Not that it hasn’t taken its toll.”

“Do you plan on experimenting on me? To prepare yourself for battle…against Ren?” No response. Not even a twitch. “Do you fancy yourself above him? Or is it… You seem to think so highly of yourself. I don’t see you as being content with being…not only under Ren, but the Supreme Leader as well. Your ideals may be the same, but there can only be one.”

“Has Ren taught you otherwise? That there can be…two, perhaps? Sith lore holds little interest for me, tooka, but I do know enough. He is merely toying with you.”

“You’re not doing anything different. Using me to your own advantage.”

You waited, leaving off on that note to see how he would react. Once more you were met with silence. Your walk was cut short when he directed you to face a door. General Hux reached past you, typing in a code that caused the door to open, and pressed the nozzle of the gun against you to urge you inside. You did not dare disobey, not giving up hope that you could eventually kill this man and the other.

There was not much inside the room. An interrogation table, a chair, and supplies set out on a ledge. “Before your mind goes to places it need not, I do not plan on harming you either. You can be useful to me.”

“Because you want Ren dead?”

“Yes—and that is hardly a secret. Neither of us is exactly fond of the other.” You turned around to face him at long last. General Hux lowered his weapon. “You’re interested to hear what I have to say.” Your bottom lip trembled as a wave of emotions went through you. This was your mother’s executioner. “Not all Sith have only a single teacher. And Ren is no Sith. His Rule of Two is a farce. I do understand the similarities. For you to reject my help… I suppose we would have our own duo as well. Wherein we wish to kill the other. Are using one another for our own purposes.”

It was supposed to have been just Kylo Ren and you. The Rule of Two. A third party. A second Rule of Two. That did not add up.

He was ruining everything.

He was perhaps your only means of defeating Kylo Ren, who would be receiving help from an outside party as well—Snoke. In a way, it only made sense. You would be allowed to discover some of General Hux’s weaknesses as well.

“You really don’t care that you’re responsible for my mother’s death.”

“I do not.”

You curled your hands into fists and grit your teeth. It took you a few moments to gather yourself. “This plan of yours—Ren will know.”

“His paranoia will be useful. He wants you. While he says that he would be willing to kill you, I doubt the sincerity in his words. Now, I need an answer, tooka.”

“Fine.” You felt numb saying it.

There had been two.

And now there were three—soon to be four, when Supreme Leader began his training. Puppets often did not know the identity of the true puppet master. There were layers of veils and curtains, each blocking the view one needed in order to see who it was that happened to be pulling the strings. You had the unfortunate advantage of knowing exactly who was pulling your strings. Kylo Ren and General Hux were the guilty parties. In the past, the Resistance had dictated your actions. Supreme Leader Snoke was doing all he could to manage the strings that held the Knight and General. All three of you, puppets in a play. The puppet master could be murdered, could become too confident in his role. Without his puppets, he would be nothing.

Thus with General Hux revealing his readiness to play against Kylo Ren, you were happy to jump at the chance to assist him. These two puppets. The main attractions of Snoke’s play. While you made an educated guess that more puppets were behind the scenes, you would leave them to the Resistance. Your focus would remain on where you could do the most damage, be effective in any way given that you were at the disadvantage with your health as it was.

At least now you would be allowed to use the First Order’s training facilities—within reason. General Hux was clever, and you sincerely doubted he would give you too much slack. That would be a noose around his throat.

General Hux was more than happy to display the smoking gun before Ren. You. You were a plaything for either of them. A willing puppet. It was the only semblance of freedom for you. This was your mindset as you crossed down the hallways and corridors of the Finalizer. You could hardly walk straight. Exhaustion from your meager exercise routine was setting in. You were equally drained on an emotional level. How long had you been playing this game with the two?

It had been longer with Ren than Hux. The Force user had snatched you from the fires of death—quite literally.

A monster that fed on the innocent; that had been the cause of many nightmares for you as a child. It had supposedly lived underneath one’s bed. If one were to place their foot over the edge of the bed, they could feel the monster’s breath. It had terrified you when you were younger. Caused you to rush to and from the bathroom when you found the need to use a toilet. As you grew older, your monsters changed shape—they became real.

The monster you had spent years training to hunt had taken your virginity. He had raped you on more than one occasion… And then you had had sex with him of your own accord—in a way. Being that you were a prisoner, your consent would be under scrutiny by many, and rightly so. The ability to consent meant you had freedom. Ironically, Kylo Ren granted you that amount of freedom, moreso now that you understood what it meant to be his guest.

Your host and captor was in his quarters when you arrived. He was seated on the edge of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees as he took you in. No mask, you noted. “You already know.” The words slipped from your tongue easily enough, and Kylo Ren offered a simple nod in response. “If the enemy of my enemy is my friend…that would mean both you and the General are my friends.”

“Ironic…” His voice trailed off, his thought not entirely spoken. It was strange, the familiarity you felt while with him. Alone. He had kept you isolated save for when he desired your company. You had learned to enjoy his touch, while at the same time you recoiled from it. Over time you had come to understand him, his brokenness. In a former life of his, he had been the son of your General Organa. Funny; she had never revealed that her son was your enemy. “You’re a resourceful woman…and the general is cunning. I should have suspected such results sooner.”

It took a great man to admit he was wrong. You admired your enemies’ strengths. Doing otherwise would be foolish, and allow them to gain the advantage.

“That first time you forced your way into my head… Why did you memorize the memories I pushed forward to keep you away from information on the Resistance?”

“I could feel you dying,” Kylo Ren stated simply. Your mind wandered once more to the way the lightsaber had felt piercing through your flesh. The smell of burning bodies, your comrades being incinerated in order to become a part of Ren’s ash collection. You had lain there waiting for your turn. Buried underneath the corpses of your fallen allies, you had anticipated it. Had welcomed death though a small portion of you had feared it as well. “In the Force… A light flickering in and out, fading… I reached out towards you—and when I discovered that it was you, the long-distance shooter that had taken my blade, I grew curious.

“I believed you would be easy to break. That it would be no trouble to take from your mind information on the Resistance, on the cell you were a part of. Those who have attempted to block me out in the past never offered up such personal information. It is with reluctance that I enter the minds of others…”

“You enjoy entering my head though?” you asked, the beginning of your question filled with a level of animosity that dwindled as you neared the end. It was hitting you in full, the meaning behind your own words. He enjoyed you. It was not as though these thoughts hadn’t floated through your mind before; you knew a part of him cared for you. This new depth made you uncomfortable. Admitting to yourself that, had the two of you been aligned with one another, the pair of you would have possibly loved each other.

Shrinking away from the thought, you transferred your gaze to the wall behind Kylo Ren. It was so plain. Sometimes you missed being on a planet. Even when you had been with the Resistance, you had felt homesick. Home is where the heart is.

Your parents were dead. You had been fighting for them—for everyone, but for them especially. You crossed Ren’s quarters until you arrived at the surface that had so held your gaze. Kylo Ren did nothing to deter you. He remained silent; the only noise coming from him was his breathing. It was familiar to you, relaxing. A part of you wondered why it was General Hux had once more forced his way into your life. It would benefit you, to be certain; and yet, in some ways, it had come too soon. There were pros and cons to the deal you had with him. Accepting his help as you were… You shook your head again.

“Before… When you had first captured me, I had been able to exercise for a slightly longer duration before tiring. Am I worse now? Will things continue this way?” In a way, you were speaking to yourself. Yet you did not mind Kylo Ren listening in on your musings. “Accepting the General’s assistance… He may provide the medical care I need as well, which is the only way I can hope to defeat you.”

“I hardly fault you for placing yourself into a position that will be to your advantage.” Hearing him say this caused your mind to stop racing. You lifted both your hands, running them along the top of your head. “It is no different than my own training.” You half turned to stare at his back. You wondered if he sometimes watched you simply by using the Force. He had already stated that he felt for you, that that was how he had discovered you were the one still alive. Which meant he had quite probably been meditating as your comrades had been placed into that furnace.

You had dreamed of what it would have been like to be burned alive. Those were never nightmares for you. Bad dreams, perhaps; but you would not label them as nightmares. At that point in time, you had been in a poorer position, had not accepted that you and Ren could use one another. The majority of the time you were with him, you had dreamed of home. Alas, when you had returned to Naboo, it had been…unpleasant at best. A nightmare, your mind supplied.

Kylo Ren rose from the bed while you watched him. The man moved towards the refresher, into which he disappeared. You crossed the room as well. Stripping out of your clothes, you set both your hands on the mattress. You wore only your underwear. This allowed you to stare down at your scars. The one from where Kylo Ren had pierced you, and another where he had singed you in the side with his lightsaber while interrogating another Resistance member. You grit your teeth at that memory. The man had broken, spilling secrets you had insisted he could hold—you could have taken it, even if it had meant your death.

You slipped your hands along the mattress as you climbed onto the bed in full. Your abdomen was sore. Fatigue was setting in. Hmm… It’s close to time for a new chip… Could that be the cause? The endometriosis…all my internal injuries… The doctor said… Each of your thoughts trailed off, though they strung together quite nicely. You laid down on the bed, curling up on your side so that you could properly watch the door to the refresher.

It was part of your arrangement with Kylo Ren that your medical needs would be taken care of. You curled your arms around your midsection. Having believed that he was simply using the toilet, you clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth in annoyance upon hearing the shower turn on. He would be cleaning his wounds and changing his bandages. You did not want to wait that long to ask him the questions that had arisen in your mind. Thus you shimmied to the opposite edge, dangled your legs over the side of the bed, and moved up onto your feet.

The door was not locked, not that you had expected it to be. Kylo Ren wanted to be kept on his toes with you. Allow you chances to attack—only now, you would bide your time more and not be foolish in your attempts. You pushed open the door and walked over to the toilet. You sat on the closed lid, your arms once more around your midsection.

“When will the chip be switched?” you asked, ensuring that your voice was loud enough to carry over the sound of the spray. Kylo Ren merely muttered out your name. You waited for several seconds before deciding to humor him. Your hands pushed down your panties and then you busied yourself with unhooking your bra. You climbed into the steaming shower with him.

Immediately you were pleased that you did so. The warmth felt great on your body. Ren did not make it a point to touch you, nor did he deliberately avoid you. He brushed against you here and there as he washed himself. You were allowed to remain under the spray for the most part, save for when the man required it to rinse off soap. Ren once more stepped into the spray, and you pressed your front against his back.

“A physical exam is scheduled for tomorrow,” he said. “It may not be due to the need for a replacement chip, although the possibility is likely… You’ve adjusted the way you had been exercising. You have hardly taken into consideration that the majority of your training occurred prior to your death.”

That was true, you noted, setting your palms flat against his shoulder blades. The man hardly flinched under your touch, though he did tense a little. He was not one who enjoyed others touching him without his permission. You had taken note of this; it was a reason you had always been baffled by the fact that he often had contact with you. Kylo Ren shifted around, turning so that your hands were on his chest. You tilted back your head to peer up at his face.

The scar was faint, yet it was there. Your eyes traveled along it before you met his gaze in full. “That was your fault.” That you had died—he had placed you in the care of Miovtha. And that you had lived; his reaction to your death… “Had I been on… That is to say—if either of us had been on the opposite side with the other…me with the First Order, or you with the Resistance…”

“Are you looking for affection due to losing your parents?” He often deflected when it came to anything remotely sentimental. Your eyes dropped to his chest, and you rested your head there. This man had killed his father; he had told you as much, had chastised you for even momentarily mourning Han Solo. Your hands shifted down to the light scar that was the remains of his bowcaster wound. He had used a generous amount of bacta and other ointments to reduce the visibility of the scar. In truth, it was still in the process of healing. “Mm… that isn’t it at all. You are truly curious about me… How sweet.”

In the past, you would have cursed him for implying such a thing. More and more, however, you were discovering how alike the two of you were in certain respects. Devoted to the cause; on opposite sides of this war. “Complimenting you in any manner is a waste. You’re arrogant,” you shot. Ren’s response was to grunt then cup your face in his hands. He smirked down at you when he tilted your head back so that you were forced to meet his gaze. You narrowed your eyes half-heartedly at him. “You have theorized that Snoke will not order you to kill me… He may eventually.” Your mind could not fully escape from the memory of him murdering his own father; though you had not seen it with your own eyes, your imagination provided plenty enough of a visual.

“I have already informed you, tooke: you help to increase my power. Killing you would be a waste.” Your bottom lip quivered at that. How many of your allies had this man killed? He murdered countless on the battlefield—yet your death would be a waste? It was a disgusting compliment you wished could not have been bestowed upon you. Kylo Ren’s mouth found yours. Though you did not respond, you did nothing to push him away either. He kissed you only that single time, and then left your mouth and his in close proximity. “Were you ever in love, tooke?”

Despite the hot spray of water, you felt a sudden chill. There was a sort of desperation in his voice as he posed the question. As though he wished to own you entirely, be the only individual you had ever considered spending your life with—even if another reality would have had to have existed.

“Not like that,” you said, knowing it would do you little good to lie. He had been in your mind before, and he would quite likely visit it many times more. Ren dipped his chin a fraction of an inch. His suspicions had been confirmed. The hands that were cupping your face dropped to his sides.

Kylo Ren turned around, shutting off the shower and then reaching out to grab a towel for himself. After wrapping the cloth around his waist, the Force user seized the spare towel and gave it to you. You clutched the towel against your chest. It took you a few moments longer before you fully snapped back to the present and proceeded to dry yourself.

“I will show you, Tooke, how sentiment is a weakness. It will be your downfall.”

You stared after him as he exited the refresher. You were still drying off at that point. Shaking your head, you could not help but wonder if sentiment would be his downfall. You wrapped the towel about your body, your bare feel pattering on the floor as you walked over to the exit.

“Do you believe that I won’t be able to kill you…because you were my first? Because I think about how it might have been?” You dropped the towel when you arrived at the edge of the bed. Kylo Ren, as naked as you, sat atop the blankets. He was cross-legged when you knelt at his side. Your hands were on his thigh, and you felt his gaze lingering on the two tattoos of his names. His fingers trailed along the tattoo of Ben Solo. “I used to pretend that you could be him… But no one can return to the past. It doesn’t work like that, no matter how much we want to cling onto things. I may be sentimental…but I’m learning. I understand that now.”

“You had to die to learn,” he said, his tone one of mocking.

You tilted your head to the side, cringing as you fought off a wave of pain. “You did as well. It may have been on a more…figurative level…but—“ You were forced to swallow your next words when the man’s hand flew to the back of your head, and he tugged you forward, your lips meeting his. Both of you kept your eyes open, your tongues battling for dominance. Your fingertips dug into the flesh of his thigh. His tongue pressed down on yours, forcing you to submit to him.

The moment you stopped fighting, Ren broke away. “You are afraid, tooke. What will you do once you at last kill me? The general is working alongside you for the time being, however you have to be more on guard with him… Which leads me to wonder: do you plan on using him to strengthen yourself…only to betray him first. Once he is out of the way, you will kill me—or die trying.”

You flinched, ripping yourself away from him entirely. Your heart was pounding in your chest, racing and drumming in your ears. He had read you like an open book without first invading your mind. The two of you knew one another too well. Which meant that your own suspicions were likely true: that a part of this man loved you. You gulped at the thought, the realization.

“Which memory was it?” you asked, your voice so small. Ren’s wide eyes searched your face, as though the man was looking for an out. Snoke’s pupil and you: two puppets becoming further and further entangled with one another. General Hux’s strings, likewise, were adding to that tangled mess. If the three of you were not careful, your movements would be limited and the puppet master would cut your strings—not to free you, but to instead break you, burn you, eliminate you. “Which memory made you want me?”

“How devoted you were to your parents. That you would throw away your life, your freedom…to save them.” You furrowed your brow at the mention of freedom. Kylo Ren chuckled. “Joining the Resistance meant you had to sacrifice so much. The idea of even having a family of your own… You were willing to put that off indefinitely to further the ideals of your mother and father. Your relationship with them was…interesting. The way you disagreed with much, and yet… You were so devoted.”

Ironic, that this was what he told you; given that his devotion continued to endear him to you in a way.

“I am still devoted,” you argued. Kylo Ren nodded, a smile spreading on his face. You refused to back down as you had in the past, did not lower your gaze. You were devoted: to the cause of destroying him. In a twisted way, you were devoted to Kylo Ren. “This is all a mess.”

“You have proven on more than one occasion that you easily adapt,” he drawled. You sighed and started to run your fingers through your hair. “Would you like to eat with me, tooke?”

Deflection yet again, though this time in a different manner. He acted as though he did not long for your company, phrased his requests as inquiries to make it seem as though you were the one who needed this. General Hux was not the only individual making your job more difficult than it should be. You were far too drawn to your captor in the same way he was drawn to you. Respect and longing. Neither of you could allow sentiment to interfere with your jobs. Perhaps, you thought, that was why Kylo Ren committed monstrous deeds. The man who had once been nothing more than a creature; Ren stared at you with those wide eyes, as though he was pleading with you.

“Yes,” you replied.

Ren lifted up his datapad from the bedside table, flicking through a few screens. You guessed that he was putting in an order for food. When he had finished with this task, the Force user went to his closet. He pulled on a pair of loose pants then grabbed out a large shirt and a pair of your panties. You dressed when these two clothing items were tossed over to you. Ren rejoined you on the bed, the man closing his eyes while lying beside you. You watched him.

“Why did you warn me?” His eyes reopened, and the man was staring at you with a questioning look. “All those times, hinting that I would not be free even if I escaped… You dropped hints that you were, in some twisted way, being merciful with how you were treating me. Allowing me those moments to try to kill you. Why?”

“It does not matter.”

Funny, you thought; he said that sentiment did not matter.

You sighed and looked to the door so that you could watch for the food to arrive. All the while your mind continued to sort through events in your life since your capture. How this man purposely antagonized you. Hurt you—tried make you hate him in some ways whist also dissuading you from demonizing him. He wished to be viewed as human though he respected your need to kill him. You would never give up fighting, not really. Yet you sometimes longed for death.

He’s like me… I hate it.

[myaekingheart]

The Hazards of Love

Part 2: The Consequence

@naruto-fantasy-week Day 2: Mythical / Monstrous [Kakashi Hatake x Rei Natsuki (OC)] Sometimes fate has a funny way of bringing people together. And sometimes Mother Nature has a funny way of ripping them apart. [Inspired by the Hazards of Love by The Decemberists] read on AO3  CW for some violence, esp. involving a pregnant woman. 

PS: F*ck Danzo lmfao

               That fateful night in the woods prompted a devout rendezvous between Rei and Kakashi. Every night, they sprawled across the ground to speak of books and study the stars. When she was cold, he would wrap her in that cloak she gave him and held her close. When she dozed off, he would braid flowers into her tangled hair and caress her cheek and surveil whatever dangers might threaten her peace. He refused to consider the forest’s disapproval, spying eyes on them always. No, when he was with her, everything was peaceful and right.

               The first winds of autumn had swept through the village when Rei was finally confronted. Rumors swirled like falling leaves about where she went every night, of what felonies she was committing. Her housemates would poke her with their chopsticks at breakfast, desperate for answers. That was the trouble with living in a commune such as this: everyone knew everyone else’s business. And whatever they did not know, they were liable to drag out by any means necessary.

               At first, their questions were easy to dodge. Rei would brush them off and just say she had gone out hunting. She was sure an excuse like that would please Danzo. Then the sickness came.

               Rei was beginning to run out of excuses for why she was oversleeping or grew dizzy during sparring matches. Her comrades scrutinized her as she shuffled down hallways, concealing her waistline with large books. She no longer made eye contact or argued. That fiery spirit of hers had been extinguished by the consequences of her actions. Their suspicions reached a fever pitch until one night at dinner, clasping her hand over her mouth as she silently excused herself. Danzo watched her bolt into the hallway with a furious gaze. He could no longer avoid it. Something had to be done.

               Rei could feel his sinister presence as she caught her breath, swallowing back whatever was prepared to come up. Danzo stepped out of the shadows, lips taut and face stony. “You and I need to have a talk” he said and in his voice, she detected the grit of a growing threat.

               “If you don’t mind, I’m kind of busy right now” Rei croaked. She smoothed her hair back and attempted to push past him. She may have avoided vomiting now but she knew it was only a matter of time before her digestive system sought revenge.

               Danzo, however, could not have cared less what was convenient for her. He watched her over his shoulder, smirking as he asked, “Running late for another sexual escapade?”

               Rei froze in her spot, her heart leaping into her throat. It took all of ten seconds for her shock to transform into offense. “Excuse me…?” she asked, voice sharp and cold as steel.

               A smug smile touched Danzo’s face as he turned to face her. “Don’t act so dumb” he replied. “I know what you do when you sneak out every night. It’s as clear to me as your expanding waistline.”

               Rei’s hand automatically flew to her stomach in defense. “You’ve been spying on me” she accused.

               “It doesn’t take a prophet to understand a woman’s sins” Danzo replied. “I can only hope you’re prepared for the consequences of your whoring around.” Rei’s entire body grew clammy as she watched him hobble nearer. She willed herself to move but it was no use. Danzo reached forward and gripped her forearm, sneering in her face. “You think you’re so clever but your disobedience will be the death of you. I aim to run a respectable establishment here and refuse to let you dirty the water with your promiscuity. To think, a pregnant assassin. Disgusting. I just wonder what irascible blackguard is the father?”

               The insinuation of Kakashi’s villainy was the last straw. How dare he? Newfound fury bubbled up deep inside Rei as she growled, “The only blackguard here is you.” She broke free of Danzo’s grip and turned to return to her room but her actions, of course, did not come without punishment.

               Seething, Danzo reached for her again and tugged her back hard, causing Rei to stumble to the ground. She screamed and flailed in an effort to break free but her only success was attracting the attention of her comrades. They peered through doorways and down stairwells, none daring to interfere as Danzo dragged Rei into the foyer. “You have disrespected me for the last time” he snarled, unlocking the front door. A cold gust of wind burst down the hall, the sky overhead dark and dreary. “I hope the wolves provide ample punishment!” he shouted as he then shoved Rei out into the wilderness.

               She coughed violently as she connected with the ground, the door slamming hard behind her. From the windows, she could feel her comrades’ watchful eyes, the way they judged her. The thought of their pity made her nauseous. She nearly shouted for them to fuck themselves as she rose to her feet, but thought better of it. There was nothing more to be done of the situation now. She did not look back as she steadied herself and began her descent into the unforgiving woods. She only had one goal and one goal only: to find Kakashi.

               Rei moved slowly as she squinted into the darkness. The moonlight contorted the trees so much so that if she didn’t know any better, she’d say the forest itself was transforming around her. Every crack of a twig and hoot of an owl left her uncharacteristically on edge. The only thing with any potential to soothe her was the stirring inside her belly, though even that was a loaded feeling. She rested her hand upon that small bump as she traversed the wilds, wondering what kind of world she was bringing this child into. A world where men exercised no sympathy and nature itself was cruel and intimidating. Perhaps she deserved it, though. The further she trekked, the guiltier she felt about the way she had handled this whole situation. Everything had begun so beautifully and yet when she discovered what had become of her, she hid within her shame. She kept her distance, she erected impenetrable walls. She knew Kakashi felt her restraint. She could see it in his eyes, the way she’d flinch whenever his fingers brushed against her thigh. She hadn’t had the strength yet to tell him about the baby. Now, however, he would have to know.

               The snapping of jaws in the distance stirred Rei from her thoughts, her hand flying to the dagger at her thigh. In times such as this, she was grateful to at least be armed with that much. If only she had thought to grab a pair of shoes while she was at it. The rocks and bugs were cruel to her bare feet, already swelling from the extra weight. And when her scattered brain convinced her that she had passed the same tree four times already, her hope truly began to wear thin. It was no use.

               Sighing, Rei settled down at the base of a large tree and wrapped her arms around her belly, squeezing her eyes shut tight in an effort to prevent herself from crying. “Please…” she whispered into the ether, “Please just bring him to me. Tell Kakashi that I’m here. Someone. I beg of you…”

               She knew it was pointless but she was at wit’s end. There was nothing to lose. A soft breeze brushed against her cheek, a flurry of dying leaves cascading down the dirt pathways. The unborn child shifted inside of her and Rei finally allowed herself to break down.

               The mere mention of Rei’s name sent Kakashi hurtling. He dropped everything to follow her scent, darting through the forest with his heart pounding in his ears. He transformed as he went, claws shortening into dirty fingernails and fangs shrinking into a human mouth. Her cape fluttered behind him, untying it from his neck as his paws became hands so as to transfer it to his waist. With every steadfast step, a silent prayer. Don’t touch her. The canopy of the trees overhead was suffocating. The forest was watching.

               And then he found her, knees drawn up and head buried in her hands. His heart broke for her. “Rei…”

               The moment she heard his voice, her head snapped up and a yelp escaped her lips. He ran to her, wrapping his arms around her, letting her cry into the crook of his neck. He petted her hair and whispered encouragements to calm her. He had forgotten how incredible it felt to hold her, and yet he could tell that something wasn’t quite right.

               Kakashi waited for her to catch her breath before he began asking questions. The most pressing was the simple, “What is going on?”

               Rei fought the urge to break down again as she mustered the strength to explain. “I felt so sick and ashamed of myself, I-I couldn’t bring myself to look at you but then everyone found out and—and I got kicked out and…” she stammered, until finally she couldn’t take it anymore. With shaky breaths, she reached for his hand and pressed it to her belly. The baby replied with a light kick straight to his palm. Rei sobbed and turned her head away from him, bracing herself for the aftermath.

               Kakashi blinked, his eyes widening, as he comprehended what, exactly, was going on. He wasn’t sure if he truly believed it. And even if it was real, how could she be so sure that this was his doing? Of course, if he was not responsible, then that would mean she was unfaithful which he also could not stand. But kneeling there, his hand pressed to her stomach, deep down he knew this was unmistakably his. He laughed an airy, incredulous little laugh as he forced the words out of his mouth. He almost felt as if saying it would confirm that it was real. “Rei…” he whispered. “You’re…you’re pregnant…”

               Sniffling back tears, Rei nodded and Kakashi could feel her grip tighten around his hand. Her fear was almost palpable but he did not want her to be afraid. Cupping her cheek, he gently turned her head to face him and pressed his lips to hers in a sweet, passionate kiss. She restrained herself at first but once she was certain the act was genuine, she fell into it naturally and the stress melted away all at once. When they broke the kiss, he pressed his forehead to hers and ran his fingers through her fiery hair. She wiped her eyes and asked, “So you’re not upset with me?”

               “How could I be?” Kakashi asked. “I’m going to be a father. Our own little family. I couldn’t ask for more.” Rei fought back another round of tears, this time of relief and happiness. He wiped them away with his thumb and held her close and in those moments, he had never felt more protective of her. She was the embodiment of his future, the harbinger for the rest of his life. His lips brushed against the tip of her nose as he whispered, “No more crying now. Everything is going to be alright. I promise. So long as you’re with me, I’ll never let anything happen to you. Or our child. I’ll keep you safe and take care of you. Both of you.”

               Rei laughed tearfully, drawing him closer so as to press her lips hard against his. He held her close, hand always pressed to her belly, as he cuddled her to sleep. Just watching her filled him with an insane, unadulterated gratitude. His love for her was so vast, so uncontainable, he could hardly handle it. He brushed the hair out of her face and rubbed tiny circles across that small bump, envisioning a secluded cottage in the woods where they could spend their days gardening and reading and raising their little family. It was all so idyllic, so pure. If he hadn’t known any better, he would’ve even argued it unattainable. But not with her. With Rei, anything was possible. He had never imagined he could ever love and be loved in this way and yet here he was. All because of her. Her love for him gave him strength and purpose. He had never known such love, the volume of which was undeniably reflected in the little life stirring inside of her. They were going to be a family and for once in his life, Kakashi was at peace.

[royal-writer]

I Get to Love you

It's a promise I'm making to you: Whatever may come, Your heart I will choose Forever I'm yours Forever I do

- - - -

Another descriptive ns/fw piece with mild dirty talk and consensual very tame light bdsm. Basically Essamon is some horny bastards and I want to experiment with my style some more. Whoops.

Gods, she wished he’d stop pacing in front of her like that. He smelled like distractions; deep woody fragrances, leather, just a fine hint of jasmine and coriander. The seductive aroma wafting off of her husband had her lifting her head as he moved around the room like a caged animal. He’d pitch another log into the chimney stack; momentarily disguising his cologne with the smell of smoke, and then be on the move again. Account books were left stacked on the desk and coffee table with each round, set down with a steady hand. Letters from townsfolk and other territories addressed to them folded over everything in a cascading mountain of articles.

She tisked as he made to pass her again, careful to scoot her paperwork to the side so they wouldn’t be blown off. “Feeling cooped up today, m’lord?” Her hand flattened the parchment that contained a census of the current food stores as she glanced up at him, catching the deep sigh radiating in his chest. Her gaze softened at the frustrated sound, murmuring gently, “Perhaps a break is in order? We could share a snack, or check on if the garden needs tending? I could look over those ledgers for you, if you’d like to step out and stretch your legs? A bit of sword practice, or a walk maybe?”

He snorted with discontent. Changing his walking pattern; which really by now should have left a worn path in the floor, the nobleman skirted between the low table and the sofa to sink down beside her. He expelled a dejected rush of air, dropping his face in his hands as she reached out to him.

“Poor dear,” Essätha comforted, kneading her hands into taut shoulders and down his back. Goodness he was mouth-watering. She wanted to sink her teeth into him; picking up the faint spicy cinnamon she hadn’t noticed before in his after shave. He flexed beneath her touch a few times; the rippling bands of muscles in his back and arms firm beneath her grazing fingertips. He had such a fine sculpted figure; not built like bulky cold marble or too yielding and soft. He was strong in all the right ways, inside and out.

Grabbing the lining of his cloak, she guided the fabric off of his shoulders as he shrugged leisurely to help her. His arms rolled backwards, dumping the apparel onto the couch. She could feel the question of his glance moving to observe her, the onyx of his pupils, the ocean of his iris. She ignored his unasked inquiry to slide her hands beneath the collar of his navy jerkin; palms working against his shoulders in hard circular motions and fingers dipping into his undershirt. Her nails left crests and grooves as they dug into his flesh.

Amon hummed deep in his throat with appreciation. His body shifted; turning from the waist and then scooting across the cushions to better face her. All the while her hands worked; rubbing and palpating into the tension of his body. From his shoulders, alongside his neck, down to his shoulderblades and up again. The stiff fabric of his clothing kept her from sliding her hands further down arms to tease him, much as she wanted to.

“You need rest,” she chided with an unhappy frown. His tension was beginning to evaporate beneath her fingers, easing the strain and pressure in his muscles tight with stress. Essie squinted into his face, watching slowly as the creases of concentration began to magically disappear. His jaw went slack; mouth parting slightly as he dragged air into his nose, and out of his mouth gradually in a relaxed breathing exercise. She grinned with triumph, leaning in to press a kiss against his open-mouth. He startled; grunting as she pulled away with a mischievous giggle.

He reached for her. His eyes darting from her butterscotch golden brown down to her mouth, over her throat, and to her braid which he picked up where it lay on her shoulder. He rubbed the coils between his rough fingers periodically. His gaze was blazing as he returned it back to her face, leaning in close to breathe, “I don’t need rest. I just need you.”

She glided her tongue over her lips slowly. “Sly move,” the noblewoman purred, slithering her hands from beneath his doublet towards his chest. Gods, she was hoping he’d say that. A fiery bolt of intense need shot straight through her loins. With proficient hands, she steadily undid each of the fasteners of his jacket while her touch whispered over him. His jaw clenched in response; adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. Hungry but patient, he dropped the tresses of her hair to stroke his broad hands from the nape of her neck down. Light against her waist, rounding her hips, and urging her into his lap.

A heated moan passed his lips. Amon groped her rear, pushing her hungrily forward into the tenting of his slacks. Her sigh came out shaky with desperation as the last clasp snapped open beneath her fingers. Her mind was flying through a turbulent storms; strikes of electricity sizzling through her bones and crackling in her veins. Her breathing hitched as she twisted and turned, panting heavily through a foggy cloud of yearning.

He was an addiction. Intoxicating. The Lord of the Emerald Expanse didn’t need to do anything to garner her attention or spark her appetite. She always wanted him in some fashion. His voice; steady, calm, profound. It was rich like chocolate but could be deep and rumbling as an approaching twister. Intense. His breath, curling the hair against her neck as he exhaled close to her ear. She shivered in response; goosebumps breaking out everywhere. The taste of him; the salt of his skin and texture beneath her mouth that was just him.

And oh gods the feel of him. There was so much to feel, so many edges and hollows she imprinted to memory. The places she could touch that drove him crazy. Tickle his ribcage, slid her digits over hills and down dips and across slants, grip his study limbs, fondle him everywhere. Her heart raced for him even now. The calluses of his hands on her ass, the prick of his teeth grazing her neck, the hair on his chest which she smothered and plundered over as she untucked his shirt. She wanted it all. Every delectable piece of him, always. Her dashing Amon; so handsome, so gentle and polite.

He made her feel alive and worthwhile. He made her feel more then what she was, and what she was capable of. He made her feel attractive at her worst. He believed in her, even when she’d forgotten how. Even when no one else did. He was certainly a sexy man with plenty of attractive qualities, but even the most beautiful man couldn’t keep her heart if it wasn’t for what reflected inside. Amon had values and morals. He was dignified, respectable, chivalrous, and honorable. He was courteous and patient, gentle and brilliant. There was so much beneath the surface of his valiant heroism. He was sensitive, a bit scarred, and perhaps not always as fearless as you could believe. But he was courageous and steadfast; ultimately the most authentic and bravest, most loving beautiful soul she’d ever met.

Even now, grinding his length into her center and sucking on her neck, his action was tender consideration. He could fuck her hard into the sheets until she went cross-eyed and her lungs burned and felt ready to collapse, and he’d still be thoughtful and gentle. Whispering to her sweet nothings, holding her close, seeing to her pleasure and kissing her slowly with satisfaction as they rolled around tiredly when all was done. Everything would feel sore and slick with a crazy dull ache and he’d touch her everywhere; strumming her heartstrings, easing her cramps, soothing her into a peaceful slumber nestled against him.

“Ooohh Amon,” she sighed, gyrating her hips encouragingly against him as he left a dark hickey against her hairline. Her hands were too eager to explore the canvas of his chest. A piece of chiseled craftsmanship. With jerks and tugs at buttons, she opened up his button-up and shoved at his arms. Marvelously receptive and submissive, Amon let go of her ass long enough to allow her peel of his collared shirt and undershirt. She wasted no time in excavating her discovery.

He hissed through clenched teeth sharply as she lapped her tongue over his nipple. With a sassy smile; all bravado and brazen, she repeated the gesture until he grunted, a string of elvish fizzling out. Essie could make out some of it; the fragments of words of endearments and cherished love and lust, but it was difficult to understand in the deep guttural tone. She crooned with appreciation, enjoying his response so much that she scraped a fang against the tip in hopes of hearing it once more, circling her hips back to brush against his.

Another sharp intake. She smirked, roaming her feather-light grazing touch over his chest. His muscles flexed in response. The soft curls of his chest hair beneath her touch and rigid structure of him. Her digits moved lower, inspecting the denser trail that lead beneath his pants. Amon’s breath quickened, rushing against her as she drew his nipple into her mouth to taste him.

“Essätha, Essätha,” he chanted weakly. “Essätha, darling…” With a helpless groan, he pushed his hard-on into her palm. Her lips sucked harder upon his skin and he bucked, a gravely low sound cutting through him and vibrating through his chest. She laughed breathlessly against him, placing tender kisses gently against his torso. Her thumb worked lazily on the strapping of his belt, and her other hand traced the shape of his arms, following the shape of his back, pinching his nipple gently as she moved on scrap her teeth against his other nipple and start again.

Amon’s head fell back roughly against the back of the sofa. Both hands found their way to her bottom and he squeezed her roughly, writhing beneath her touch as she kissed and circled his nipple. She flicked the tip with her tongue and he curved towards her; lifting his hips to grind against her hand. Breathing him in deeply; the spice of his fragrant skin a delicacy, she dropped her head to lave and nibble down the middle of his abs. Her tongue swept over his quivering midsection, her teeth finding a rigid line to sink into gently.

Pawing her way down his build, Essätha finally drifted down to belt buckle where her other hand cupped his erection. She pulled the prongs free, and dragged the strap through the belt frame and loop loosely. “Mercy, my love,” Amon pleaded hoarsely, rotating his hips to feel the her touch beneath the straining bulge of his trousers. Glorious, she thought to herself wickedly. He was begging for relief now as she worked the leather band from his pants, taking her sweet leisurely time. Her mouth, for the meantime, latched on to his shoulder to suck firmly on his flesh.

Essie tossed the belt aside. Her breathing sounded just as ragged as his; rolling over his skin damp from her lewd tongue and drifting lines of sweat. “You taste as amazing as you feel,” she purred, dotting soft kisses against his collarbone. He gasped, fidgeting, nails embedding into her ass as he kneaded her the moment her tongue descended, tracing the carving of his chest in a single stroke south. “I need you,” Amon sputtered shakily. “I’m so hard for you. Nnng, good girl.”

Good girl. Gods, she loved it when he said that, all hot and bothered and needy. Oh she had some plans to be good to him, but not necessarily a good girl. Her breath billowed over the dense pubic hair disappearing into his pants, her eyes turned up to her husband. Heated and smoldering, she took in the fluttering of his half-mast eyes and the jump in his throat as he swallowed deeply. His jawline moved, clenching and unclenching as he caught her studying gaze.

She splayed her hands over his chest like an anchor, and leaned in. Her teeth caught the edge of one button of his pants, and worked it. It popped through the hole and Amon froze, gaping at her with his tongue running hungrily against his lips. Grinning with confidence, she moved on to the next one, aware of just how close she was to his throbbing cock. Shocking how still he could be when she was so close; her air brushing against the flaps of his opened slacks against his undergarment as she gripped the next button. She worked it carefully; an expert lover’s twist and flick, and it snapped open as her nailed raked against his torso and chest hair, lowering as she lifted her head.

She teased him, slipping her fingers into the opening of his trousers. The nobleman stilled. A breathless pause. He hitched for air, groaning the moment her fingertips grazed along the base of his stiff member. His hands, having lost her rear as she dropped lower, went for her shoulders in a bear trap’s vice grip. He whined openly as she dipped her tongue along his navel, into his belly button, and caressed over to his hip to nip the protruding bone.

“Mmmm, I love it when you grab me,” she whispered, kissing her way across his abdomen towards his other hip. He spasmed; cursing in common and elvish as her fingers brushed lower as his legs snapped open wider. She stroked his sack and he gave a sudden and sharp cry as her teeth dragged along his other hip bone, biting gently. “I’m so wet for you, m’lord Amon. You’re a sexy stud, and I want to fuck your handsome cock until you feel boneless and forget how to walk.”

“Ugghhh Essie,” Amon whimpered. He wriggled, shallow huffs of air expelling rapidly from his chest. His butt lifted from the couch as she gripped the leg of his pants, and yanked them part of the way down. Her mouth formed into a frown and she removed her hand from palming his warmed scrotum. He choked with longing, leaving crescent moons on her shoulders with impatience as she tugged his askew clothing down to his boots.

“Climb on my lap, darling. Fuck the formalities, I want to feel you.” His voice was raspy. Stroking a velvety touch along the cords of her neck, he gasped with exhilaration. She hummed, her lashes skimming the top of her cheeks as she forced his shoes off, barely reasoning with the knots or loosening them. They were thrown across the room with a thud, his socks and pants following moments after.

Ignoring the thickness in his imploring voice; the deeply profound want of his faint words, Essätha settled on her knees between his legs. His small clothes were the only barrier between her, and his erection. She raised a lingering smile to beam up at him, dropping kisses along his knees. He groaned, straining as her tongue and teeth joined. Brushing her pillowed lips against his skin, skimming teeth, lapping with her tongue. Her fingers seduced every inch of his sublime figure. Caressing his waist, nudging his legs apart, scrapping along the sensitive raised goosebumps while her eyes locked on to his. She savored each moan that escaped his lips and echoed in the depths of his lungs.

Down his ankles, back up along his shins, and against his knees. She licked the inside of his thigh and he shuddered, rolling her name out with ecstasy. His hips drove forward in an invitation. He was a temptation she couldn’t refuse. Her husband, so fetching and delicious. He was a fantastic lover in every way, but there was so much to appreciate in this view. The trust. The reception. He held to her shoulder with one hand, and gripped the cushions with the other for support, clasping and unclasping his fist from the furniture as he groaned with submission to her dark desires and sinful foreplay.

Her tongue danced over his skin, moving up closer and closer to the edge of his drawers. Amon gyrated his hips, thrusting towards sanctuary. Essätha snickered, drawing spiraling shapes with her fingers over his torso in a sensual, erotic display. “Would you feel better if I kissed your poor, weeping shaft m’lord?”

The flushed color in his face grew darker and deeper. He groaned, mouth-gaping, pupils huge. His mouth closed, and he swallowed before opening again. He was speechless. She cooed at him with pity, placing a kiss along the very edge of the fabric that separated them. Once more, he threw his head back violently into the sofa, growling with frustration. “I’m not hearing an answer,” she chimed, grinning wildly.

“Yes! Yes yes, fine, please- do something-” He choked; a long drawn out gasp staggering out of him as she kissed the head of his erection through his underclothes. She grinned broader as his eyes closed, mouth twisting up and throat flexing with each withheld grunt as she lapped the damp spot on the front of his undergarments from his arousal. The musk of his need was heady and strong.

As he keened for more, Essätha sank slowly back on her knees. Her tongue drew across her lips with suggestive slowness, catching his eyes as they pried open with hopeless abandonment. Moving her hands low, she hooked her fingers into the waistband of his drawers, and pulled experimentally. With an arching eyebrow, she dragged his knees together, resting her breasts against them as she whispered low and husky, “I have an idea in mind. In the bedroom, if you want to try it, m’lord Amon.”

“You’re torturing me dear,” Amon complained, his nostrils flaring. But there was no hiding the interest brewing in his gaze, his tongue moving over his own lips now. “What sort of idea? And does it involve you removing any of your damn clothes, too?”

She laughed quietly. “All in good time,” she promised, slowly climbing back up. With a hand placed on either side of his legs; fingers sinking into the fabric of the couch, Essie leaned in to ghost her lips upon his. It’s not enough. He moved nearer; claimed her mouth with his own. It’s all yearning and pleasure. Far from soft; his teeth bruise her lower lip and his tongue claimed her until she quivering. Another stab of her most vulgar desires send a wave through her as she clenched her thighs close together, a moan tumbling from her mouth into his.

He released her from the glorious spell of his lips. Every nerve ending was hyper-aware of the blaze of his mouth, caressing a long line down the side of her neck. Panting heavily, Essie ran her fingers through his beard, up to the side of his face, and cupped his cheeks. The hard calluses of his palms found her blouse and crept beneath, skimming along her pelvis. They moved to her back, tracing an old scar before flattening out.

She pulled away, placing a hand to his forearm firmly to retract the sinful gentleness of his hand claiming her. With a frustrated snarl, Amon placed a tender kiss to her lips. Sweet and soft, gliding his tongue along the seams of her lips until she was relinquished control briefly once more. His hands lingered on her waist a moment longer; massing into her bare skin, before he flopped back into the seat with a pout. His skin was glowing, and his eyes dark with lust and triumph to see her weak-kneed, trying to stand but wavering.

Beckoning him with a pointer finger, Essätha reached down to grasp his hand. He held to her hand, clasping her carefully. As he stood, he placed her hand briefly to his chest, over his heart in a symbolic gesture that made her pulse skip a few beats. He wore the fondest, most adoring smile and it was aimed like a perfect arrow through her heart. With a scarlet blush creeping deeper into her neckline and causing a haze of color to her skin, she chewed on her sore lower lip and tugged at him to follow.

She tripped and narrowly missed a puppy-love fall from glancing over her shoulder at Amon, but he dragged her back into the safety of his chest. With a grin broad and knowing as she inhaled sharply, feeling the bulge in his underclothes against her, Essätha kicked aside the boot she nearly fell over. She scowled at it, head down, and hurried the rest of the way past the disorganized clothes and coffee table brimming with ledgers. Some of the paperwork managed to fall to the floor in their haste to pass, and she quickly kicked the door to their private quarters closed behind them. Let any daring housemaid catch the sounds coming from their room and see Amon’s clothes in the sitting room, and be so brave as to try the coming in.

With more ferocity then she believed to have, she shoved her husband back into the door. He drank her in like a desperate drunk, and they sighed in unison against each other with relief. She moved against him; hips undulating, humping him greedily and grinding into his length. It’d be a lot more comforting to feel the contact of skin against skin, and not the friction of her clothes trying to mask the basking warmth of her sun.

He gripped her back and bottom, smothering her against him. “Mmmmf, my Essie,” he growled possessively, drawing on each syllable. She lunged for him once more. Wanting more; tasting his lips as the back of his head smacked against the hard oak. He groaned for her loudly as her hand squeezed to his, her free one tugging at his black locks roughly to tilt him just the way she wanted him. Enough to deepen the kiss, and weave her tongue carnally against his.

Swiftly and suddenly, Essätha leaned away from him. The cold seems to hit him all at once; his mouth hanging open, a shiver racing down his spine. He unfroze after half a second and reacheed for her once more, trying to gather her close, but she stepped away. With a scolding tut, her finger tapped his lips lightly. Amon didn’t hesitate; puckering his lips to kiss her digit as the soulful depth of his gaze swept over her like a salacious caress. For a moment she’s utterly lost in the fathomed depths; lost in the abyss of his pupil devouring his iris before she remembered herself.

Moving quickly, she stepped over to the nightstand as the nobleman detaches himself from the door. He moved as though in a dreamy romantic state, not quite making it to her by the time she fumbled through, and manages to produce a length of silk, and then a second. They were extra fabric pieces to a scarf she’d made herself for Josephine, and she’d tossed them thoughtlessly into the dresser one day, thinking that maybe one day be of use. Today seemed as good a day as any.

“You intend to tie me up, with those…” His voice was soft, but compelling. A predator lay in wait in his gaze, ready to pounce. Hungry, at the end of his chain, wanting to sink his teeth into flesh and possess her in all the ways that made her scream for him. There was doubt in his regard to the fabric; but a dangerous wanton expression creeping into the tints of color on his features.

She lowered her gaze, biting into her aching lower lip. “Not if you don’t want me to.”

Amon made a thoughtful sound in the back of his throat. Reaching up to stroke his beard; in a gesture that was comical as it was cute, he gave a slow nod. “Alright,” he agreed, a lazy smile spreading on his face. “What would you have me do, my lady?”

A thrill of eagerness momentarily stole her breath. With a voice more breathless than she intended, Essie indicated with a jerky hand towards the bed, hissing her demand: “Lay down.”

“Commanding,” he murmured, his voice deep and sultry. He moved past her; the smell of him distracting her just as it had before. He took full advantage of her gawking state, brushing his hand against the side of her bosom as he whispered hoarsely, “I like it.”

“Bed,” Essätha ordered, voice cracking. She was going to lose resolve with a look like that. The back of her mind whispered to her, knowing full well he could bring her to that edge again and again until she was howling for it. He could make her scream until she lost her voice, if he wanted to. But this was her game, and she had every intention on seeing it through.

Her beloved Lord Amon sank into the creaking bedframe wordlessly. His eyes said everything the crafty, smug smile of interest of his smile did not. But he wouldn’t be cocky for long (ha). Wearing a seductive smile of her own, she slunk from the end of the bed up to crawl atop of him, and straddle him. He groaned in agony; her clothes still a hindrance as he glided his hands firmly to her sides.

She held out her hand, and he froze. Obedient and silent, but watchful, he placed his hand in her grasp. She twined the rope carefully around his wrist, creating a cuff. Knotting it firmly in place, she gave the material a few jerks and tugs to test its strength. It didn’t fray or split. It wasn’t much of a distraction from the urgent look in Amon’s gaze, or the way he swayed his hips from side to side to try diverting her focus. Which it did. Easily.

Scowling, Essätha leaned over him to tie the other end of the silk to the bedpost. She shifted closer, concentrating on the knot she was making. It proved difficult as Amon breathed heavily against her chest, sitting up enough to skim his nose along her throat. Breathing deeply, he groaned: “You’re beautiful. How long are you going to toy with me like this, darling?”

“Until I’m satisfied,” she retorted, keenly aware of the feverish gasping in her voice. Taking his other wrist, she began the process of looping it and knotting the material like before. Once she leaned in to tie it to the opposite bedpost, her devious little husband tormented her in return. His hips lift; rocking his erection into her crotch as his mouth latched on to a nipple through her shirt.

Cursing shattered words in various tones and languages, Essätha shamelessly rode the shape of his package with a muted whimper. With an internal shiver, she reminded herself of what she wanted to do, and managed to squirm free with a gasp. Sitting back on her knees and far from the proud smirk pinned to the Illiad heir’s face, she gave him a serious glance. No matter how lecherous of an Aphrodite she could pretend to be; raw, aloof, charming, disarming, she was still just as enthralled and drawn to him as he was to her. Her body might want to give in to the immediate gratification of passion; quick and rough or cuddly and soft, but she could wait until she’d gotten her fill of making him lose his mind.

Amon shifted, and the bedpost creaks. He gave a tentative tug on the binding with his arm, and the tension pulled the length taut. His eyes wander from it, to her, and back again as he gave another jerk. His muscle strains, and the silk holds firm as the entire bed rocks from the effort. His eyes dart back to her once again, and his blown pupils consume her whole.

“I quite like this look,” she purred, stroking a hand absently over his chest. The tips of her fingers step across his navel, up his tense abdomen, and to his nipple. She strumed her thumb against him as he groans. “Lord Amon Thomas Illiad, my submissive husband, all tied up just for me,” Essie breathed, leaning in to hover above the heat of his body. “I bet you’d like to be inside me, right now. I bet I could make you orgasm. I wouldn’t even have to do much, would I? Kiss you here,” she pressed her lips softly over his throat. “Maybe here.” Another, over his nipple. “Or here.” Against his rapid heartbeat, and he moaned. “Touch you in just the right places, and you’ll just explode.”

The realization seemed to hit him. Truly trapped; the silk too well-made to rip or tear from his brute strength. He groaned; loud and low, trying to angle himself as much as possible to try brush his length against her. She bent upward just enough to avoid giving him the contact he ached for, and a whine settled in his throat. “Essätha, please,” he begged, dragging in air in short bursts. “Please. I want you. I need you, Ess’. Please.”

Gods, she felt drunk with power. This man; her man, a proud Illiad, praying and beseeching to her. He craved her. He wanted her in ways both filthy and amorous; wrapped around each other, frisking, touching, nuzzling, kissing. She wasn’t so blind and stupid not to see the way people looked at her over the years. She had appeal, if people could get past the random patches of scaly growths on her skin. For Amon her scales weren’t a hindrance. What she was didn’t stop him from pressing his mouth over her every curve and angle as he’d glide his hands over her, embrace her, and whisper words of flattery in her ears as he loved her. There was no greater joy and honor than to hold and love this man.

Or in this case, nothing was more satisfying than to leave him begging for more. Her valiant husband’s gaze coasted over her, and follows the hypnotic gestures of her hands. She smiles slowly, skimming them down the front of her camisole to the hem. Gathering the thin cloth in her hands, she began to drag it slowly up her body. Revealing her stomach; the planes of her belly. It hiked up higher, just beneath her ribcage and then beneath the shape of her small bust. The light against her warm skintones was luminescent, casting a drapery of shadows against her hips and curves.

Amon licked his lips in response, and lurched forward. The wooden frame of the bed protested, and the silks yanked him back into the pillows with a ragged gasp parting his stunned lips. She snickered, flirting her half-mast eyes across his expressive gaping face before flipping the garment the remainder over her breasts, and pulling her head out. With a flick of her arm, she sent the top fluttering off to the floor, her chest rising and falling with her eagerness. It gave the small mounds of her breasts a bit of bounce, which captured his attention for a lengthy intermission.

“Goddess,” the nobleman crooned, giving no indication on if he meant her or a true deity. Judging by the fixated attention of his gaze groping her however, she felt sure she knew the answer. The flush of color in her face heightened in response. Playing her fingers across her collarbone, she grazed lower; momentarily stopping to mold her palm against her breast. Amon heaved for oxygen, sucking in large gulps of air, as her hand relaxed and skimmed lower to her pants.

Bending forward, Essätha reached down to push the fastener through on her slacks, one at a time. She shed them aside, revealing the lace-covered panties beneath. The Briarton Lord let out a noise both miserable and primal. Her movement is slow and cruel; peeling back the dense cloth to show more and more of her supple thighs, all the way down to her knees. She raised her ass in the air, reveling in the way he huffed and wrestled in the restraints to lean forward at the edge for her. Bracing with one hand, she wiggled the apparel down further, and repeated the gesture on the other side until every nude contour is visible, save for the hidden crown of his lust beneath her knickers.

Extending her arm, she dropped her slacks over the side of the bed. A stern squeak emits from the posts as he tugged at them once more. A trace of pity hits her, seeing the strain in his face, in the muscles of his arms, in the pull of his eyes. In the most enamored, awe-struck voice, he managed to speak; his voice husky and deep, “Undergarments. Remove them.”

“I’m sorry, are you commanding me?” she taunted, moving to loom over his struggling form, smiling broadly. Keeping herself aloft with one hand, she used the other to cradle his face. He sighed deeply with enjoyment, nestling his face into her touch. A turn of his face, and he kissed her pulse-point gently, searching her face for a sign of reaction.

He must have found what he wanted, because he grinned. She realized she expression became vulnerable; staring, wanting, a jolt in her heartbeat and mouth parted with flush lips. With a scowl burying her heated need, she snatched her hand back, caressing it instead down his bare chest instead. “Was that a Lord command, a I’m-Your-Husband command, or a I’m-Desperate-To-Be-Fucked command?”

To her delight, he appeared suddenly sheepish. His throat jumped, and he rasped: “My apologies, my love. I demand nothing of you. The shackles, they just…” His voice faded out as she hovered closer. Lightly pressing her lips to his with sympathy, she kissed him softly. Her words breathed against his ear; light as a butterfly’s wings, “Not so easy having no control, is it?” She felt him nod, swallowing thickly once.

In a sign of forgiveness, Essätha leaves sensual kisses across his neck, carefully nipping along his sensitive skin. She stops to lap at his nipple, enjoying the faded growl in the back of his throat as she brushed her breasts to his torso. His chest hair tickled her erogenous zone. Moaning weakly, she traveled over the model of his magnificent chest; suckling and nibbling down to his underwear. There’s a damp spot from the dew of his pre-cum and where her tongue had been earlier. She strips them away; sliding over his body to throw them across the room.

She exhaled, breath fanning over his straining cock. “Gloriousss,” she managed to hiss. Her tongue stroked the inside of his thighs in a single line towards his balls, and he keened with pleasure. Her cheek grazed his rod as she moved up along his leg. She left wet, lewd kisses along his leg; listening to the rapture of his his voice rather than the words in a tongue of elves that made little sense to her.

Shimmying lower down the bed, she anchored her knees for support, and lured her tongue over the head of his cock. His reaction was instantaneous. Amon arched; his hips lifting, and a ragged moan poured out of him in a reverberating tones. Without looking up, she feels the burn of his eyes on the top of her head as her braid falls on his thigh. She encouraged him to nudge his legs wider for her, dragging nails against one leg and taking a steady grasp of the base of his length with the other. Through clenched teeth, her husband draws out a fizzling gasp of hope.

Swirling her tongue along the head of his manhood, she tasted the tangy musk of his desire. Her lips kiss along his slit and she engulfs just the head, sucking lightly. He pulled up like a bow strung too tight; tense, rigid, stiff in the groin as he grunted loudly. The moment he urged his hips up again, requesting more, she retracted; laving her tongue down his shaft and back up again slowly. She paused to leave an open-mouth kiss on the underside of his length before repeating the gesture; smoothly gliding her tongue over the other side of his dick and back up to leave a filthy kiss beneath his leaking slit.

A string of ‘please’s tumbled out of his mouth. Essie offerd him a sinister smirk, casting a glazed look up at his face. He’s more flush than ever. Wriggling into the mattress, he huffed and screws up his mouth with vexation. It’s gone in a flash; parting his mouth into a gratifying cry of euphoria as she dipped her head once more, taking him into her mouth to suck deeply before popping him out with a prurient wet kiss.

“Essätha,” he appealed, twisting his hands to hold the silken lengths. She hummed at his inquiry, lowering herself to lap along the base of his erection. Her tongue darted out against his scrotum; dipped lower and moved along his sack. A whimper escaped the nobleman and he thrust into her hand that still gripped him, wheezing helplessly as she took one ball into her mouth and sucked gently. “More,” he wailed involuntarily.

She was more than eager to please. His reactions were perfect. Yearning and hot. She danced her tongue along the sensitive skin, moving him up and down in her mouth. From one, she moved on to the other; leaving his balls shining with her saliva. Her nose pressed into the base of his cock as she stroked him gently, up and down. His legs trembled with the effort to remain steady, to not plunge himself into fucking her hand and mouth in a sad attempt to finish himself. A ravenous moan of bliss fueled him as he sank into the covers, head lulling, mouth open.

“Good girl,” he gasped, her tongue flicking at the skin along his dick and scrotum. She kissed and licked her way back up his member, listening to the unsteady roughness of his breathing. He groaned as she sucked the tip of his head once more. “Essie, please. Please.”

Gradually, she bobbed her head. Lowering further onto his cock, she takes the girth and weight of him deeper. Her throat flexes, her cheeks hollow, and she sucks him a little tighter the deeper he goes. Amon’s groans grow animalistic with hunger; constant, wild, and passionate. He flexes his hips forward, as far as he’s able, scrambling for more.

In a rhythmic motion, she begins to fuck him. Swallowing the pre-cum leaking from his slit, she moved her lips over him and dipped her tongue along the side. It grazed him; swirling and flattening in different directions. Her hand fists him all the while; clenching and relaxing, moving up and down to caress and bring him higher. She cupped his balls in her other hand, breathing deeply through her nose, and massaged them slowly. He babbles some sweet-nothings, but it’s near impossible to make out in a rush of crude words and whining.

Darting her eyes over him, she appreciated the erotic dance of his hips, the helpless writhing of his body. Perspiration drenched his skin. She relaxed the suction, aiming her tongue to throttle over the head of his hardness before taking him deep once more. His eyes open and close; moving from her to the ceiling, hissing through his teeth. She can make out the slight chaffing against his wrists even from where she was; turning a reddish hue as he struggled against his bonds.

“Close,” he bit out. “M’close.” Another gasp, and he bucked up towards the heat of her mouth engulfing him. She winced; tears momentarily blinding her eyes from the sudden jab to the back of her throat before he settled back into the bed. His length passed the spread of her full lips, and Essätha dragged in a large breath, licking her tongue along the slit of his cock one last time before sitting up. Her jaw ached. She let go of his dick and ballsack slowly to rub along her jawline for a moment. Despite herself, a smile pulled at her aching face, watching her Lord lounge in the sheets, trying to catch his breath with eyes shuttered to the world.

While he was wonderfully preoccupied and trying to regain composure, Essie rolled off of him to crawl further up the bed. She fumbled with the nightstand, producing a condom from its contents. Leaving the drawer open, she ripped open the packet and pitched it. Taking the contents from inside, she rolled the damn thing down his shaft, still slick from her mouth. It fit snuggly in place, right where it should, with the end slightly extended as it should be.

Gripping the edges of her panties, she yanked them off in a single fluid gesture. They fell off the edge of the bed as she slipped forward, straddling her husband by the hips. An ecstatic moan of impatience dragged out of her chest. Amon’s eyes snapped open wide and sudden as she slid down, allowing his cock to glide against her folds wet with want to brush her clitoris.

The entire headboard lurched forward with a defiant shirek. Twisting his wrists, a bellowing sound of remorse filled the room from his lungs as she moved again, a shaky sigh moving past her lips. Gods the pangs of need were torture. She was starving for just a pinch of his love, just a bit of his fiery elation and the taste of his lust. Just a little relief. Her walls clenched against nothing, wanting more as her mouth fell open, that sweet bundle of nerves in her bud blooming as her back arched to move against him once more.

Slamming his head back into the pillow, Amon drove his hips forward maddeningly. “Untie me!” he relented, his eyes catching hers. She blinked sluggishly, lost in the dark colors of his eyes for a moment not comprehending as he turned the cuffs around in his grip. “Essätha. Please. Untie me. I need to touch you.”

Wearing a saucy smile, she inclined over him. “So elaborate for me, my beloved: a blow job doesn’t get you hot and bothered enough to demand being released, but my pussy against your cock does?”

He groaned, gyrating his hips once more to grind his shaft into her clit so her eyes fluttered shut, and she mewled with astonishment. His lips wet his lips, and he groaned softly, “Untie me, Essie. I want to feel you. I want to hold you. I want to participate and please you by the Light of Pelor, please.”

His gaze was rounded with pleading. With a hitch in her breath, she leaned back. The nectar of her want glistened against his erection as she hung just above against his chest, dotting a kiss to his upper collarbone while reaching for his left hand. “You are a sentimental softie, m’lord,” she murmured, unfurling the first knot as she finished close to his ear, making him shiver, “I love it. I love you, m’lord Amon.”

Calm. His scorching eyes slipped over her face with in the soothing silence. She felt a sense of unease; as though she may have been tricked, as her hands worked on the last knot. His free hand moved to her face, brushing frizzy strands of loose hair from her braid aside. He cupped her chin, examined her swollen lip, and stroked his thumb along her jaw. As the silk slackened on his other wrist, he pulled his arm free to hold her cheeks instead. Turning her face, Essie pressed an apologetic kiss to the tender area of his skin, worn from the fabric chafing at his flesh.

“I love you, Essätha Meduza Illiad, my wife,” he rumbled conclusively. He followed her as she pulled away, his lips mirroring over the outline of hers as she panted. Pulling his legs in just enough to offer support as they sat up; her in his lap, he ran his hands down her throat. She trembled beneath the light contact, barely grazing her shoulders and massaging down her curves. He halted as she lifted her hips; kneading her ass and guiding her forward.

Her eyelashes fluttered. Slowly, she sank down on his member. A synchronized set of moans pushed past their lips. The broad hands on her rear smoothed up her back, embracing her close. With a steady thrust, and rotation of his hips, Amon moved deeper. She clenched against his cock, keening pitifully. By all the gods, he felt incredible. She was soaked for him, and he fit so perfectly inside her.

They moved slowly; finding a gradual pace. Feathered kisses lined her jaw, up her cheeks, to her forehead, and over her nose. Essie gasped, gripping his shoulder and his waist while rocking into him. He found her lips. A tender pressure; careful of her inflamed lower lip. His tongue swept against her own as her mouth parted and she shuddered. It was gone too soon. Her head spinning; already dizzy and lightheaded from the waves of heavenly bliss as he moved on to leaves kisses down her throat. Scrapping teeth against her skin, circling his tongue against her sweaty skin.

Amon’s hips bucked firmly up into hers. Throwing her head back, she moaned with ecstasy. With a hand against her back keep her steadily in place, her breasts squished to his chest, Amon edged a hand between them to the juncture of her thighs. His pointer and middle found her clitoris and he circled her nub. Flicking the hood, rubbing her furiously, she ground into his hand and moaned close to his ear. Her fang caught his earlobe and she licked against the shell as he bit her neck gently.

“Darling,” he grunt; honeyed with fondness. He jolted; driving his hips at just the right angle to spark a dangerous fire inside. She whimpered, riding him fast. His groans increased in tempo and strength, and he kissed her vigorously, repeating her name over and over again like a prayer. “Essätha. Essätha. Essätha-”

The nobleman let out a loud groan. She could feel the ripples of him spilling into the rubber as he continued to move. His fingers changed tactics; one barely whispering a coaxing gesture against her sensitive bundle of nerves, and the other tickling just to the side. It was a strange combination, but the sensation worked. She jumped; hissing. Her thighs pressed close, moving against his limp erection. Too close though. It was right there and he cursed; trying to help her chase it-

The world faded, and she toppled into paradise. Screaming his name weakly with release, her walls fluttered and pulsed around his cock. Her climax coated the condom, and dripped on to the sheets as she slumped weakly against her husband’s chest, gasping. His hand retracted from her mound and she quivered once more, resting her head to his shoulder.

Sucking her juices from his fingers, Amon wrapped his arm back around her. She winced as he guided her off of him; a slight burn in her loins. He rolled the condom back up, and ditched the used latex off to the side. His beard rasped against her cheek as he nuzzled her. A kiss pressed to her temple and he flopped back into bed, guiding her with him to lay sprawled out across his torso.

Leaving a delicate, romantic kiss to the underside of his chin, Essätha exhaled heavily with contentment. “That was extraordinary,” she stated quietly, lifting her head to gaze at him with a sultry smile. “Good for you?”

“Fantastic,” he replied, chuckling.

She grinned. “Think you’re ready to go back to work?” she teased.

“Absolutely not,” he scoffed, rubbing a hand to the back of her neck, urging her forward. “Now com’ere you, it’s my turn. And I want to kiss all over your gorgeous smiling face, to start with.”

Snickering, Essie climbed closer to the temptation of his crafty grin and tranquil, loving eyes to meet his gentle mouth in an intimate kiss. A strong arm around her, another tucked in the loose curls around her ear where they’d fallen. He breathed her in; kissed her sweet and soft, and whispered a poetic verse in elvish she recognized that made her insides melt. This moment and this man, it was all hers. And as she smiled into the kiss, she knew in the depths of her heart, nothing could possibly make her happier. She found refuge with him. She found home, with him. He took such care of her heart and its misshapen form; and her soul, which some days she still wasn’t sure wasn’t tainted by some blot of darkness.

“I love you,” she muffled against his lips once more. “I love you,” he repeated quietly, caressing her spine. She sighed pleasantly, arching into his touch. With lowered lashes, she allowed herself to be vulnerable. Limp; safe in his arms. The safest place she ever knew. His mouth pressed to the corner of her own and she curled up into him. Nothing to fear touched her here; no doubts, no sorrows. Only happiness. Only him. Her hands slipped over his cheeks, rubbing his beard and gliding up into his hair. She drew him deep into her lungs, kissed him tenderly in return, and did something she’d never done before, until she had him.

She lived. Perfectly happy, lost in the moment, and cradled in the security of his arms. Home, loved, and utterly and totally at peace, with him, her beloved Lord Amon.

[alaskaenmelena]

NATO Steadfast Dart Exercises in Bulgaria

[yashkonu]

Offer me rest, offer me rest.

In those rare moments, the important ones, when every object and every movement is necessary, sounds become different. Their meaning becomes different.

When an old guitar is strumming soft chords and groups of friends are murmuring stories, the crackling of the hearth is texture. When it feels like the world is holding its breath, when steady hands find clasps and buckles and knotted laces, the sound of the fire is the melody itself. Soft, soft words form its harmony, and percussion is granted by the muted thump of steel and leather meeting cloth. Rest, says the song. Here is home, here is peace.

“Lay aside your gauntlets, brave warrior, lay aside your bracers. Here your hands only hold your cup and bowl, the hands of those dear.”

“God of the home, I lay aside my gauntlets and my bracers. In these walls I need not guard against the bite of axe and blade.”

Weiss and Ruby watched from the doorway in reverent silence as metal and time-worn leather fell away, thudding against the rug before the hearth. Velvet took each of Pyrrha’s hands in turn, placed a brief kiss on her scarred knuckles.

“Lay aside your breastplate, steadfast defender. Your heart is safe here, safe to be warmed by fire and by love.”

“Home-keeper, hearth-tender, I lay aside my breastplate. I open my heart, entrust it to you and to this place.”

Clasps were undone with a sharp clack-clack, buckles and laces slid free, and a solid thmp announced the thick plate meeting soft carpet.

Velvet’s hands traced down her sides, lifted away her mail and shirt. The silent watchers shared a blush and made a spirited effort to look elsewhere.

In this way and by these words, Pyrrha’s forge-wrought second skin gave way. Lit as she was by the glow of the hearth, the pair by the door saw broad shoulders licked by firelight, an emerald gleam when she turned. A soft sound slipped between Weiss’s lips, an oh tinged with awe. Ruby gasped quietly, maple in autumn whispered low.

Velvet held out her arms, palms up, and a moment later a thick, neatly folded robe appeared to fill them.

“Longing of soldiers, hope of the weary, offer me comfort, offer me rest.”

With practiced motions, Velvet wrapped her in the robe and cinched it snug around her waist. She raised a hand to cup Pyrrha’s jaw, murmured just loud enough to be heard. “For you, my guardian, I offer all. For your safe return, there will always be rest for you here.”

Pyrrha smiled, and the glow of the rare moment returned to harmony.

In another moment, the fire was simply warm. Pyrrha watched it crackle, offered quiet thanks when Velvet pressed a steaming mug into her hands and took a seat at her side.

“Another year.”

“Another year. You’ve been well?”

Velvet huffed a laugh. “You’re just like Coco and the others. Yes, I’ve been well enough.”

Pyrrha sipped at her drink and hummed appreciatively. A slice of orange, a stick of cinnamon, a dollop of honey, and a generous shot of whiskey, all added to a mug of hot tea. No surer way to let the warmth seep into her bones. “I’m glad to hear it; only a few years past I was prodding you awake every time I came to visit.”

“Those were… quiet years.” Velvet shifted where she sat. How quiet exactly, she couldn’t be sure. The better part of each had simply passed her by. “And you know, the longings— ”

“—The longings are enough to keep you well, as I often hear.” Pyrrha remarked into her drink. “We’ve known one another for a very long time, Velv. You know as well as I do that there is more than one sort of ‘well.’ That’s why we do these visits, dear one.”

Softly came the reply. “I know, I know. I am… well enough.”

Silence fell, broken only by the fire. Pyrrha passed her mug to Velvet, resolved to change the subject. “Interesting guests, those two.”

A smile graced Velvet’s face at the mention of them. “Interesting certainly describes them.”

“I couldn’t help but notice, they seemed… familiar with you.”

“Ah—yes.” Trepidation clung to Velvet’s tone, and she lowered her eyes to the mug. “May I lean against your shoulder?”

“You may.”

Velvet did so.

“… They came back, Pyrrha. They came back.”

Pyrrha blinked, caught off-guard by the news. “In the same turn? But—”

“I don’t know how, but they did. They stayed here, and they left, and—” Velvet’s voice cracked, and she took a sip before continuing. “—And then they came back.”

Pyrrha looked long at her face, expression unreadable. “… May I put my arm around you?”

“You may.”

Pyrrha did so, and Velvet’s posture relaxed.

“Are they good sorts? I can tell you don’t mind having them, but lately you’ve been glad for any company at all.”

Velvet huffed a breath that might have been a laugh, and passed the mug back to Pyrrha. “They are good, yes. As different as can be, the two of them, but deeply good.”

Pyrrha took another breath to reply, but a fond note in Velvet’s tone formed the last piece of a puzzle she’d been quietly solving since she arrived. Her eyes darted to the hearth, to the blade above it, to the tip’s position, reversed.

“You offered it to them. Oh, Velvet. You really offered it to them, didn’t you?”

“…”

“You trust them that much? Enough to send your claw back out into the world?”

“I—it would protect them, Pyrrha. It would ensure their safety, and if anyone deserves my protection-!”

“Velvet, Velvet.” Pyrrha gave her shoulder a soft squeeze, murmuring low. “Don’t trouble yourself, dear heart; I only want to know what I’ve missed. You trust them that much, do you?”

“… I do. That they turned me down only tells me I’m right to trust them.”

Pyrrha hummed thoughtfully, watching the firelight dance along the blade. “May I speak with them, while I’m here?” At the look of concern that crossed Velvet’s face, she chuckled and returned the mug. “You seem to need this more than I, worrying god. I only want to see what sort they are for myself. You needn’t fear for the little ones.”

Velvet sighed, relieved, and nodded. “You may. Only… do be nice.”

Pyrrha laughed bright and clear, holding Velvet close with a smile. “Be nice, she says. May I kiss you, Velvet?”

A pink tint rose to Velvet’s face. “You may.”

She did so.

The next morning found Weiss rising early. Her thoughts were roiling in her head, and she would throw her worries into training as she had always done. She dressed quickly and simply, drew up her hair, and headed out behind Velvet’s home to where the rising plains met the treeline.

Fog still hung dense in the cool morning air, but that was fine. It would make an excellent canvas.

Weiss stretched carefully, easing each group of lean muscles still stiff from a night’s rest. It wasn’t technically necessary for her task—gods knew most of those at the university had not been the sort to exercise rigorously—but Weiss had always found that mental focus followed physical wellness.

“Concentrate,” she murmured, drawing herself up into a relaxed posture, “Do not draw on the magic, but rather feel for it. Listen for it, and then ask.”

It began slowly, a stirring in the fog that surrounded her. It drew itself denser, gathering in a swirling, rippling pool around her. She moved with it, subtle motions of her hands and feet, guiding the sleeping magic with her eyes closed and her mind open.

…Until a presence cut into her current. Something simple as a pebble in the flow, but it set a crease to her brow. She whirled suddenly toward the source, a protest half-formed on her lips—

—And froze.

“Good morning, Weiss.”

Pyrrha raised the point of her weapon from where it had been trailing through the spiraling fog and flashed Weiss a cheery smile.

Silently urging her racing heart to calm itself, Weiss bowed her head. “Good morning, Pyrrha.”

The god gave a short bark of laughter, waving a hand dismissively. “Please, you needn’t. Even if you were the sort to show reverence, I am no god of yours.”

“No? You make me wonder what sort of god you are, then.” The fog dissipated with a wave of Weiss’ hand, and she walked back toward the home.

Pyrrha followed, drawing up a pair of chairs. “I am sure you’ll learn in time. Sit, please. I would like to talk to you, if you don’t mind.”

Weiss took the offered seat with all the peacefulness of a mouse keeping an eye on an owl.

“I spoke with Velvet last night.”

“Did you now?”

“She told me something of the pair of you, but… I suppose I am simply curious.”

Weiss sat back in her chair with a huff. “And I suppose I’d like to know what about us warrants curiosity. We’re little more than travelers.”

“As you say,” Pyrrha said with a secretive smile, “but I would ask a few things nonetheless.”

“Very well.”

“You are a mage, clearly, but… not only the sort who stirs currents in sleep, mm?”

“It’s not as though I hide that much. Yes, I studied at a mage’s college far west of here.”

“And your companion?”

Weiss flinched, and keen eyes caught the movement. Pyrrha said nothing. There was no need.

“Ruby was never one for classrooms and lectures. Fields and forests suit them better.”

“I can tell, you know. Whether they were ‘the sort’ or not, they would never have been allowed in. Am I wrong?”

Weiss sighed, pinching the bridge of nose for a moment before continuing. “If the purpose of this conversation was to remind me that my dear friend was turned away—rather cruelly, I might add—from a place which should have encouraged their growth, I’d just as soon not have it.”

Pyrrha brushed aside the remark, pressing on. “They do not have the ability to work magic—not as you do. No amount of lecturing would change that.”

Weiss’ eyes darted sharply to hers, a cold edge in her expression. “Anything else you would like to remind me of? Any other old wounds you’d care to reopen?”

At that, she finally slowed, sweeping a considering look over Weiss. “…No.” She huffed a single breath that might have been a laugh. “No, and Velvet made me promise to be nice, so I should heed her words. No, Weiss, I have a purpose in asking.”

Weiss’ reply was dry. “I await with bated breath.”

“Ruby could not go with you…”

“… And I continued on. In spite of… later protest by them. Yes.”

“Was it worth it?”

Weiss looked out into the treeline, into the receding fog, worrying her lip. “I don’t know. I’ve learned more from Ruby than I could ever begin to learn in that prison of a school, and I regret hurting them with my absence.”

“But?”

“…But I learned more there than most have the opportunity to learn, regardless. I cannot shy away from my good fortune in that.”

Pyrrha looked her over, bright green eyes seeing past the surface of her words, her body language. “And if the opportunity to learn more, to grow more powerful, presented itself—would you leave them again?”

“They could not drag me away. Not from Ruby, and not from—not from any of my loved ones.” At the last, she turned to meet Pyrrha’s eyes again.

A flash of a smile crossed her face, and Pyrrha gave an approving nod. “We all learn loyalty sometime. It seems you’ve learned it well.”

“And you? When did you learn it?”

Pyrrha chuckled under her breath as the sun broke the clouds, the last of the morning fog retreating into the shade of the trees. “Weiss, young Weiss,” she said with a crooked sort of grin, “I am all that loyalty has to give.”

She stood, stretched, and turned back toward the home. “Velvet was right about you, Weiss. Your sister would be proud.”

Weiss’ eyes shot wide, but Pyrrha had stepped through the door before the question could reach her lips.

Slender fingers drifted through Ruby’s hair in slow, even motions, repeated again and again as they lounged on Weiss’ lap.

Ruby piped up, a sound like a half-dozing sparrow on its roost. “What kinda god d'you think Pyrrha is?”

“A soldier’s god, of some sort.”

“You don’t say.”

Weiss tweaked their ear none too roughly. “She comes bearing armor and speaks of loyalty to one’s companions. If I knew more, I’d have said it.”

“Mm.” The attention was turning Ruby’s eyelids heavy, but their thoughts carried on. “She kinda reminds me of my first captain. Really intense, but… good? Intense for the right reasons.”

While Weiss contemplated their words, there was a soft rap on the door. Velvet’s voice came, muffled somewhat by the wood. “I brought tea, if you two would like it.”

Ruby rolled reluctantly from Weiss’ lap, finding their footing just before they could tumble off the bed entirely. “Comin’!”

Velvet offered them a mug when they opened the door, and they took it gratefully. Something rich with spice and steaming hot; a favorite of theirs on cold nights.

The other mug she handed to Weiss before taking a seat on the edge of the bed. “I imagine you two must have… more than a few questions about all this.”

Ruby found their spot again, this time against Weiss’ side rather than on her lap. It was a difficult compromise, but they’d bear it for the tea. Once suitably settled, they took a sip and hummed. “It… has been pretty out there, yeah. We’ve got a bunch of stuff we’re wondering.”

“Mm. Suppose I’ll start,” Weiss murmured into her mug. “Since this morning it’s been stuck in my mind… what sort of god is Pyrrha, exactly?”

A flicker in Velvet’s expression was smoothed carefully away before she answered. “Pyrrha is, well, a soldier’s god.”

Ruby gave the both of them a withering look that managed to convey ‘you don’t say,’ and Velvet relented.

“Alright, alright. She… there was a time when Pyrrha was not a god. It shows, I think, in the way she carries herself. Most gods do not bother to lay aside their burdens.”

Weiss’ brows shot up. “She was mortal? That—how is that possible?”

“That, I cannot tell you,” Velvet answered with a rueful grin, “and the answer would only disappoint you. What I will say is… I do not recommend it.”

With a shake of her head, Velvet continued. “At any rate, she is a god of soldiers, but—mm. She is the god of those who pay loyalty’s price.”

Ruby took a gulp of tea and tilted their head. “Loyalty’s… price?”

Velvets face darkened, and she bowed her head before speaking. “It is… the price of standing fast to see others to safety. The price of refusing to abandon or betray the trust of those who rely on you. An arm, an eye, a life.”

“Oh,” Ruby breathed.

“Mm.” Weiss stared into her mug. “Seems I should write to Winter.”

“Hey Velvet? Can… can I ask how you and Pyrrha met?”

Velvet’s lips pressed into a thin line. She thought of a blade hung over a hearth, its purpose unheeded but never forgotten.

“We met in… difficult times.” She sighed, her shoulders dipping slightly. “I do not think I should say more without Pyrrha’s permission.”

The memories refused to stay buried, even now. The smell of blood, the copper tang on her tongue. Fear like dense smoke, blinding and choking. Difficult times, indeed.

And Weiss and Ruby were so small, so fragile. Spring flowers, newborn chicks, still-blind pups, and she—

A tiny voice swept into her thoughts. “… Velv? Are you okay? If you don’t wanna talk about this right now, that’s okay.”

“Ah-” She shook herself, casting aside the memories once more. Young yet battle-weathered hands pressed a mug of warm tea into hers, and she found her smile again. “Thank you, Ruby. To make a very long story very short… hard times turn us hard as well. Those times are gone now, and we are better for it.”

I am better now. I think. I hope.

Young eyes searched her face, wondering and worrying.

Ruby woke up restless the next morning. Returning to sleep was a lost cause; they had too much on their mind. They sat up, yawned, and placed a feather-light kiss to Weiss’ temple. It wouldn’t do to wake her early; she’d be grumpy until lunch.

They moved with practiced silence as they changed into suitable clothes and fetched their spear. Training would help to hammer their thoughts from a hopeless tangle to a seamless thread.

In the moments before dawn, the home and all around it bathed in ruddy twilight. Ruby took their time to stretch and warm their sleep-stiff muscles, then took up the spear once more.

Basic stances and thrusts were a good starting point. The movements were burned into their muscles from years of repetition, natural as breathing. It had to be, to keep the motions strong on the front lines.

If the soldier beside them fell, there would be no room for flaws in their defense. If the soldier on their other side fell too, then three lives were under their care. To feel the fire of that responsibility meant they could tolerate no mistake. Thrust there and there with the force to pierce mail, strike there, half-turn for the momentum and strike again there.

Always always always keep your ears sharp because your flanks are exposed and there are footsteps behind you pivot and turn and STRIKE—

Metal rang against metal, and Ruby snapped back to the present with a yelp.

“Good morning, Ruby.”

Beyond their crossed weapons, Pyrrha calmly held Ruby’s eyes. Ruby trailed their gaze from the point of steel down to Pyrrha’s hands; it wasn’t a weapon they’d seen often before—a bardiche, if they remembered the name right. A polearm a touch longer than their own spear, with a simple bladed head to it.

Finally, they remembered themself and took a step back, their spear at their side. “Ah—’m sorry, I get,” their voice dropped to an embarrassed mumble, “I get a little too into it sometimes.”

Pyrrha planted the butt of her weapon on the ground, leaning a bit of her weight onto it. “Soldiers who’ve seen combat train differently than those who haven’t. It’s clear which you are.”

Ruby fidgeted. Pyrrha had the same razor eyes as their old captain; the sort you needed to make the decisions captains make. “Are you, ah, gonna do some training too?”

“Something like that.” In a single expert motion, Pyrrha leveled her bardiche toward Ruby. “It’s been a long while since I had a good spar.”

“O-oh! You want to—with me?”

Pyrrha gave a quick shrug, but the point of her weapon didn’t waver an inch. “I’d like to learn a bit more about you, and crossing blades is a surefire way to do so.”

Ruby’s chuckle was tinged with nervousness, but they leveled their spear all the same. “It’s not often you get the chance to spar with a god, I guess.”

“I don’t recommend holding back.” With a flash of a smile, Pyrrha struck.

Ruby quickly found her advice worth heeding. Gleaming steel darted and swept, and Pyrrha moved with terrifying precision. Blocking the first string of blows left their hands stinging, and they leapt back to collect themself.

Speed and range together, that would be their chance. Keep her at bay, let the weight of the bardiche at a distance create openings—!

Pyrrha wasted no time in closing the space. As Ruby ducked a swipe and rolled to the side, they found the blunt end of her weapon under their heel. They toppled back, only finding their footing with a quick twirl to plant and push off of their spear.

“You analyze, close to overthinking,” Pyrrha mused as they circled a few paces apart, “but you trust your gut when planning fails. You have reliable instincts.”

They held their position, daring half a step forward. Circling any more would only corner them against Velvet’s home or steer into Pyrrha’s dominant side. This would have to do; they gripped their spear a fraction tighter, muscles tensed and poised to strike…

And the door to the home opened and closed. Weiss’ voice cut through their focus, “Ruby, what are—”

The shift of Pyrrha’s gaze toward the sound rang alarm bells deep in Ruby’s marrow. They moved without thought, because thought was too slow.

When the moment stilled, cold steel rested against Ruby’s throat. Pyrrha searched their face, and smiled when she saw Weiss directly behind them.

“Ah,” she murmured, half to herself. “So that’s the sort you are.”

[recluse-art]

to lose

i bring you fluff!!!!! to help soothe any present or future wounds over schism….

“No.” His refusal was stated adamantly, leaving no room for argument.

“Sasuke…” She tried to turn her wide, doe eyes on him. It wouldn’t work, not this time. Not if he wasn’t looking directly into the pools of lavender.

She grabbed his crossed arm in a show of desperation. “I promise that what happened last time won’t happen again!”

The Uchiha was deliberately looking away from his girlfriend. She wouldn’t rope him into going, no way.

“What if…” She was thinking, exercising her options. “What if I take you to that weapon convention you’ve been wanting to go to? I can call out of work?”

He shook his head, steadfast in his decision, still staring off elsewhere.

“I’ll cook tomato dishes for a week!”

No response.

“A month?” She cringed at the thought of consuming all of those tomatoes.

“You could cook tomato dishes for a year and I’d still say no,” he was monotone, unimpressed with her attempts.

Hinata huffed audibly and laid her head on his shoulder in exhaustion. She had been trying to convince Sasuke to go to the Hyuuga dinner party for weeks and he hadn’t budged, not even an inch.

He uncrossed his arms and put one around her to tuck her into his side more comfortably. He wasn’t mad at her or anything - he was just asocial and especially didn’t want to attend this prestigious family event. Staying home sounded like a much better alternative. He wouldn’t have to bat off snide remarks and ignore frosty, accusatory glares.

Silence settled between the two, with Hinata stewing over a good scheme to get Sasuke to go. The man in question was relaxed on the couch, grateful for the reprieve.

Suddenly, Hinata turned to face him with a slow grin spreading on her face.

He raised an eyebrow in suspicion. That expression can’t be good, at least not for him.

She placed her lips near his ear and spoke in a low, sultry murmur.

Onyx eyes widened at her proposition and Sasuke nodded immediately. He would go to the damn social function, but only because he’s wanted to do this for so long.

She pulled away to look at him, beaming.

The clanging of metal colliding with metal echoed in the field they used as a training ground. A few trees and bushes were smoking, singed by stray fireballs.  A crater marred the ground, where a particularly nasty chidori struck.

The Uchiha pulled out all the stops on this session; he hadn’t fought the Byakugan user in so long. She didn’t hold back either, managing to disable his right arm by hitting a crucial chakra point.

Training with her caused his heart to beat wildly, and it wasn’t just from the exertion of physical exercise.

Her gaze became focused, sharp, and she was just the slightest bit aggressive, especially when the odds were against her - it seemed she had a secret competitive streak. She moved like water, artfully dodging thrown weapons and blasts of fire, and she struck like a snake, her gentle fist anything but.

It excited him.

The two individuals were sweating, already three hours into combat in the blazing Konoha sun. When they began to pant in quick, short bursts, they decided to take a break in the shade of oak trees.

“Why don’t we spar any more?” Sasuke asked in between sips of water from his canteen.

She eagerly drank from her own, equally as thirsty. Then her drinking slowed, she was hesitant to answer.

“Well…” She looked down. “It’s just…”

He stared at her, expectantly.

“… you mope.” She finished lamely, glancing at him to gauge his reaction.

“What?” Sasuke tilted his head, confused - he did not mope. It was beneath him.

Hinata fidgeted with her hands, old habits surfacing.

“Remember last time? When I…” she tried to search for the right word, but couldn’t find it, “When I beat you?”

His expression remained neutral and he nodded.

“You sulked around the house for three days before Naruto dragged you out to train.”

“I didn’t…” Sasuke began, but could not continue. Did he really mope? Sure, sometimes he went through minor mood swings but he wasn’t a sore loser… Was he?

“And the time before that, when it was a close draw but my shadow clone managed to distract you long enough for me to bring the kunai to your neck?” Her voice was small and she paused, as if she didn’t want to reveal this information. “You didn’t speak the whole walk home.”

Flashbacks of the (few) moments he lost, whether in battle or in games, put a bitter taste in his mouth. He felt the ghost of indignance rise up to haunt him and was struck with the revelation that he may have been more affected by losing than he thought.

He blinked, trying to digest this.

Hinata rested a hand on his back in consolation, smoothing over sore muscles, “I hate seeing you sad…”

Her opal eyes were fixed on him. Her brows scrunched up in concern.

The worry on her face struck him with its intensity and he had another epiphany.

This woman… this woman loved him. For all of his faults, his petty tendencies, his possessiveness, his demons and past actions, she still cared for and fussed over him.

She diligently chipped the ice away from his heart and resuscitate it from the black, shriveled lump that it was. God knows what he would be doing now if she didn’t come into his life, he probably would have wandered - lost and fractured after the war.

Although he was bad at losing, he was good at winning. He treasured Hinata more than any revenge or rivalry that had driven him in the past.

Fuck, he was so in love with her.

A light touch on his right arm brought a rush of chakra flowing back into the limb. He took the opportunity to cup her cheek and bring their lips together in an almost bruising kiss.

Her boyfriend’s sudden affection caught her off guard, but she wrapped her arms around him and welcomed the embrace.

Slightly chapped lips moved against each other in fevered movements, it was overwhelming. Then his teeth nipped at her and she drew away to breathe.

A blush tinged her cheeks and his own were dusted with light pink. Their eyes were dilated and their dark hair mussed up. When Hinata’s tongue darted out to soothe her bottom lip, it was abundantly clear that they wouldn’t make it home.

Before she could voice the questions that were dancing in her eyes, he tugged her into his lap and stole another kiss. This one was slow but just as passionate, matching the lazy summer heat they were basking in.

When they pulled away, the adoration in Sasuke’s gaze made her heart leap. A shy smile appeared as she asked, “Everything okay?”

“More than okay,” he affirmed with a smirk.

He didn’t know what god he appeased to have her in his life - it was more than he ever deserved - but he would not forsake her.

A wandering hand slipped beneath the mesh top to trace her spine and she shivered.

“Why don’t I finish what I started?” He whispered, mischievous.

Since most of the oxygen had escaped her lungs, she could only press her lips to his in affirmation.