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I can only Dream.
chapter seven
Pairing: Aaron Pierre x Black Original Character Warnings: Slow burn. 18+. Smut. oral (giving and receiving). sex. Summary: Iriye and Aaron experience a night of firsts.
Notes: FLY EAGLES FLY! Also, I'm excited to finally get this one out because I figured out the ending for this series, so enjoy the ride. It's gonna have some ups and downs. Comment, like, reblog, or send me asks. I want to hear your thoughts as I love responding.
MASTERLIST
Music floated throughout Iriye’s apartment, and Mariah Carey sang about it being her night, which set the mood. She was happy it was Friday and she had a date with Aaron.
For once, Iriye wasn’t on the lot that day, as she had decided to take a me-time day. She started with some Pilates, trying to remember the last time she had been to a class. Her instructor even asked her where she had been after her workout. She then headed for a quick lunch, walked around her favorite used book store, and got her feet and nails done.
Iriye came home and read a few emails before seeing the time and figuring she should get ready. She started getting ready, spending time scrubbing down in the shower. She exited the shower and moisturized, moving on to her skincare. After feeling refreshed, Iriye went to the closet to see what she had to wear.
As Iriye pondered an ankle-length dress, she heard her phone ring and grabbed it. She smiled as she saw who it was.
“How’s my favorite child?” The smooth voice flowed from the phone, Iriye seeing her mother on the screen.
“Mommy, I’m your only child,” Iriye chuckled.
“Same difference,” Eve, Iriye’s mother, stated. “Oh, you got the silk robe we took from the spa day we had. Where you heading out to?”
Iriye bit her lip as she shook her head. That day with her mom had been a trip.
“Who says I’m going out?” Iriye asked.
“You are shea buttered down my dear. You learned that from me. Do you have a date?” Iriye could hear the smile in her mom’s voice.
“Yes,” Iriye said as she sat on her bed, phone in hand. “I’ve been sort of seeing someone.”
“And by seeing someone, you mean having protected sex?” Eve inquired.
“Mom!” Iriye shook her head at her mother. “We are too close.”
“We raised each other practically,” Eve said. Iriye’s mom was merely twenty-two years old when she found out she was pregnant. But her mom was always too cool, even if she knew when to lay down the law. “You’re my grown daughter. I know you be having sex,”
“We haven’t gotten to know each other that biblically,” Iriye stated. “But he’s different than any man I’ve been interested in before.”
“How so?” Iriye picked at a thread on her cover.
“He’s so… authentically himself,” Iriye admitted. “I think sometimes he looks at me with rose-colored glasses.”
“And what’s wrong with that, sweetie?” Eve asked. Iriye sighed.
“Because what happens when he takes them off and sees me? Sees the good and the bad and the ugly,” Iriye admitted.
“Then you see if he likes what he sees or runs away,” Eve declared. “Not every man is like Jay,” Iriye sighed as she thought of Jay.
“You know he still calls Tamara,” Iriye mentioned. “I can’t fault her. They became great friends through me. But it still hurts. I feel like if I just… was a little more bending and willing to shine more-”
“Some men are just not built for women like you. Women like us. Their loss.” Eve shrugged after interrupting her. “You are so beautiful, intelligent, and talented. If a man can’t see that and step out of the way to let you shine, they don’t even deserve to be in your rays or your shadow.”
“I love you so much, Mommy,” Iriye said, trying not to get teary-eyed. It was blunt and straight to the point, but it was the truth served straight up. No chaser needed.
“Now wipe your tears and show me what you’re wearing. Because I know you took my favorite sweater dress, and I will get it back when I come out to visit,” Eve declared. Iriye got up and went to her closet, showing her options to her mother and purposefully skipping over the things she took from her.
Iriye was trying to clasp her bracelet when she heard a knock at the door. She headed out of her bathroom, looking through the peephole and saw Aaron crouching in it. She smiled softly as she opened the door, stepping back to usher him in as she tried to clasp the bracelet.
“Come in. I’m almost ready,” Iriye spoke, still struggling with the bracelet.
“Here,” Aaron shut the door behind him and approached her. “Let me help you,” Iriye tried again, huffing as she didn’t get it. She held her arm, clutching the bracelet in her hand. Aaron reached forward to find the clasp, his fingers gentle against her skin. He concentrated and finally got the clasp, Iriye smiling warmly.
“Thank you,” Iriye kissed him softly, Aaron smiling against her lips. “Hi,”
“Hello,” Aaron’s arms slipped around her waist. “You look-” He pulled back to take her in, his gaze sending a shiver down her spine. “I think there’s not enough words in my vocabulary that can describe how good you look,”
“Maybe I can help you figure some out. You know… since I’m a writer and all,” Iriye winked. Aaron pulled her back in for a deeper kiss. “Don’t we have dinner plans?” She asked against his lips.
“We do,” Aaron said between kisses before pulling back, his hands smoothing down to her waist. “You look so beautiful, love.”
“Thank you.” Iriye pulled away and grabbed her purse. “Lead the way.”
Aaron and Iriye drove in comfortable silence, mixed with pleasantries and an impromptu sing-along to a Sade song they both loved. As they got closer to the heart of downtown LA, she watched as Aaron navigated the streets, and soon, they entered a parking structure.
Aaron got out once they were parked and headed for her door, opening it for her. Iriye let Aaron help her out of the car, and she adjusted her dress. His hand slipped into hers, the tingles shooting up her arm every time they touched. Once they got to the elevator, Aaron pressed the button for the rooftop, and Iriye eyed him for a moment, him catching her eye.
“What’s on your mind?” Aaron asked, his smooth voice falling on her ears.
“The rooftop?” Iriye stated.
“You’ll see,” Aaron said, kissing her hand. She leaned into him softly, watching the numbers tick off as the elevator rose. Once the elevator stopped and opened, Aaron led her out to a hallway with a frosted glass door. They walked down to the door and Aaron held the door open for her
Iriye took in the rooftop, seeing it was an intimate restaurant. Some were seated inside the glass space and others were further outside on the balcony.
“Aaron, this place looks incredible,” Iriye said, turning to see him taking in her reaction.
“I’m happy to hear that, love,” Aaron stated. A hostess came up and led them over to a table outside. Aaron pulled her chair out for her, waiting till she was sat and comfortable before moving to his.
“Where did you find this spot?” Iriye asked, grabbing the menu so she could look at what she wanted.
“A friend I made while working manages it,” Aaron stated. “And the food is amazing.”
“Look how connected you are.” Iriye looked over the menu and saw what she was thinking about for appetizers. The waiter came over to bring them water and take their drink orders. Iriye was taken in by how the sun set and the night came alive in LA. “I love this view.”
“Me too,” Aaron said as he took Iriye in. Words couldn’t even describe how beautiful she looked. Her eyes met his, and a heat came across his skin.
“Stop it,” Iriye felt her cheeks warming up, the pit in her stomach clenching as she took in him looking at her. “You look very handsome yourself.” “I clean up nicely after a long day,” Aaron chuckled, sipping his water.
“Tell me about your day,” Iriye asked. Aaron raised an eyebrow, which she returned with one of her own. “Please,”
Aaron regaled Iriye with stories of set life, how he was faring with his co-stars for the show, and how he was making friends with the crew. He talked about how the craft team had given him a few snacks that he liked, even though he was trying to stay in shape while filming Lanterns. She found it refreshing.
“I really am fortunate to get to do what I love,” Aaron admitted after the waiter took their order for shared appetizers. Iriye took a sip of her drink that was brought over, humming at the fruity cocktail as she listened.
“You know you’re a rarity, right?” Iriye said. Aaron furrowed her brows. “This business has a way of jading people as they climb upwards and onwards. I’ve worked with a few people at different levels and rarely meet people who genuinely love what they’re doing. Who are grateful,”
“That makes me unique?” Blueish grey eyes stared into her soul, and Iriye had to focus.
“It does to me. No matter how big you get, you’re just you. Just Aaron,” Iriye shrugged, taking another drink. “I like that.”
“I’m glad you do.” Aaron took a sip of his drink. “What about yourself?”
“What about me?”
“Do you love what you do? Writing scripts and scenes for unique people like me to act out,” Aaron rattled out. Iriye took a moment to think.
“It’s a love and hate relationship,” Iriye admitted. “There was a time I hated it—four years into living here. I was working as an assistant for an executive. It felt like they were doing everything possible to make me hate my job. Took so much of my sanity. But I was determined to stick it out. And a year and a half later, I proved myself. She said I could be just like her and take her job. That day, I decided to find another job. Anything. I put my notice in and helped train my replacement when I hired them. I worked at a youth center afterward, trying to find peace of mind. During that time, I found happiness in writing about what I could and wanted. Doing Uber Eats and the odd set job. I never wanted to be that… miserable ever again working a nine to five to make someone else feel important.”
“Are you miserable now? Working on Paradise Lost and all?” Aaron asked.
“Not at all. Everything I worked so hard for is coming to fruition.” Iriye stated. “I’m doing what I love with people who love it just as me,” She admitted. A smile took over Aaron’s face as he reached for her hand, stroking it softly when she put it in his hand.
Appetizers came and went, and Aaron’s friend Troy brought the main courses and two drinks. Iriye was intrigued as Aaron and Troy made quick conversation, retelling how they met.
“Never met a more encouraging spotter,” Troy admitted. Aaron crossed his arms over his chest in thank you.
“Anytime, brother.” Troy and Aaron hugged each other up before Troy shook Iriye’s hand in parting.
The conversation over their main course was pleasant. Iriye learned more about how Aaron was the oldest and how he was close to his siblings and family. How he talked about them made her wish she had someone to share the times growing up.
“I feel like I’ve talked too much,” Aaron stated, Iriye picking off his plate since he hadn’t denied her the first time she did.
“Not at all. I find people with siblings interesting.” Iriye shrugged. “I’m an only child.”
“Your parents were one and done?”
“It was just my mom and I.” Iriye took a bite of his food, chewing and swallowing.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Iriye raised her eyebrow at Aaron. “About your father,”
“I’m not,” Iriye stated. “He left when I was eleven. And honestly, it was probably for the best. My mom and I were better off without him.” She said pointedly.
“How so?” Aaron asked her, his eyes searching hers for a truth. Iriye had to look down at her plate, feeling like she was growing harsh with the mention of her father.
“I… I’m not ready to talk about that,” Iriye simply said. She could see that look in his eyes—the one to dig deeper. “I just feel like it’ll ruin the night.”
“It won’t,” Aaron assured her.
“For me, it will.” Iriye wasn’t sure if she was ready to let Aaron know how she felt about the man responsible for half of who she was.
“I’m not going to pressure you,” Aaron said. “But just know, I’m ready whenever you are,” Iriye relaxed in her chair, those words washing over her. No pressure. Just patience.
“Thank you.”
By the time the check arrived, anticipation was the name of the game. Iriye was sipping her water, as Aaron had asked.
“I don’t want you falling asleep on me,” Aaron teased, Iriye watching as he wrote his signature. Iriye playfully let her heeled foot slide against the inside of his leg, watching as he stopped writing for a moment.
“Focus,” Iriye spoke, taking another sip of her water. Not even its coldness could calm the heat burning through her.
“You’re playing a dangerous game, Iriye.” Aaron felt her foot gently stroking his leg.
“It’s not a bad thing if we both win.” Iriye placed the cup down. “Yours or mine?”
“What are you asking, love?”
“Your place or mine,” Iriye raised a brow. Aaron put his card back in his wallet before sipping his water. Iriye raised her foot high along his leg. She was just so close when-
“You’re something else, Iriye Edwards,” Aaron had her ankle in one hand.
“What can I say? I know what I want. What do you want?” Iriye asked. She felt his fingers rolling her ankle softly in his hands. Aaron licked his bottom lip, those eyes of his growing darker.
“What I want… is to know how you look lying spread out on my bed,” Aaron breathed. Those words made Iriye take a deep breath, unable to break eye contact with him.
“That’s someth-”
“I’m not done,” Aaron interrupted. Iriye shut her mouth quickly, hoping no one else focused on them. “I want to be inside of you every way I can. See how you look when you give in to the pleasure I can bring you, Iriye.” Iriye caught the Jamaican twang at the end of his words and felt the anticipation roll up her back. “Smell your scent on my sheets, even after you leave. Is that something you want?”
“Yes,” Iriye breathed. Aaron smiled.
“Then let’s go,”
Iriye was buzzing as Aaron led her out of the restaurant and back to his car, her clutching onto his arm. It was the comfortable silence, fueled with the thrumming of her heart as she was mentally preparing for what was to come.
But all of it was thrown to the wind once they reached Aaron’s apartment and entered. Iriye didn’t have time to process as the door shut behind her, Aaron pressing her up against it as he kissed her.
Moans left Iriye’s mouth and found a home in Aaron’s. All the self control he held onto left as his hands went to her hips, sliding over her ass as Iriye wrapped her arms around his neck.
Chest to chest, Iriye felt their clothes were a burden. She moved to push her hands under his suit jacket until Aaron pulled away from the kiss to shrug it off.
“You look so sexy in that dress… I can’t wait to see it on the floor,” Aaron groaned. Iriye giggled as he dragged her to the bedroom, Iriye trying her best not to trip over anything.
Once inside the bedroom, lips clashed against as Iriye let her hands slide under Aaron’s shirt. He got the memo and backed Iriye to the bed until she fell into the familiar mattress. She leaned up to watch Aaron lift his shirt from his body, muscles and abs underneath the caramel skin.
“You can’t be real.” Iriye hummed, taking him in. Aaron smirked, grabbing her hand and dragging it down his abs.
“I am. All for you,” Aaron groaned, feeling her nails dragging softly against the skin. She sat up more, making quick work of his belt and unzipping his pants. The peek of his Calvin Klein boxer briefs made him even more appealing to her.
Iriye slipped her hands into Aaron’s pants, helping him get the pants and his boxer briefs down, seeing the one-eyed monster between his legs. She kept her eyes on him as she let her tongue lick at the underside of his length, a groan escaping Aaron.
Aaron’s hand slipped to Iriye’s goddess locs, seeing he was trying to regain some sense of control as Iriye worked the tip of his length into her mouth. She focused on the head, finding it was her favorite part of his length so far. She wanted to spend the night playing with it and discovering what made him tick.
“Jesus,” Aaron breathed, peering down at Iriye playing with the slit of his cock, tongue wiggling against it. She was a pro. He pulled back, watching Iriye’s mouth fall open as she moaned for more. “You look so sexy.” Aaron slid his cock against her lips and she sucked the head into her mouth playfully. “Open those pretty lips for me, baby girl,”
Iriye smiled before letting her mouth fall open, Aaron pushing his length in her mouth. She whined, relaxing as she let him fuck her mouth. One hand went to grip his ass as she encouraged him to fuck her mouth. The other one went to her dress, tugging up the skirt. She slipped her hands between her thighs, moaning around his length as she touched herself through her wet panties.
Aaron thrust a little faster into Iriye’s mouth, her gagging some. She grasped onto his ass as he pulled back, licking up to see his eyes were half hooded and his hand grasping into her hair. Iriye went deeper, seeing how much more his jaw dropped.
“Fuck…” Aaron breathed and Iriye pulled back to suck before taking him deep again, her hand moving her panties aside and slipping her fingers inside, fucking herself and moaning around him.
Iriye took him down further, gagging around his length as she relaxed, hearing Aaron praising her as she sucked him slowly. She wanted to savor him but she was fucking herself, her pussy growing wetter. She felt one of Aaron’s free hands trail down to the arm fucking herself.
“I can hear how wet that pussy is Iriye,” Aaron groaned. “Bet your fingers—- fuck—- feel so good inside. But not as good as mine.” Iriye nodded, moaning once again. She whined as he pulled back, seeing him kick off his pants. Iriye was about to take off her dress when Aaron grasped her hand, pulling it out of her panties. Her jaw dropped as he sucked her juices off of her fingers, moaning around them.
Iriye pressed her lips against Aaron’s, tasting their juices together as they kissed. His hands pushed her dress up and lifted it, leaving her in the black lacy bra and panties. Her bra was next, his hands slipping them down her shoulder as they kissed. She was bare to him except for her panties. Iriye pulled away, her staring into his darkened eyes and licking her lip.
“Aaron, I need you,” Iriye moaned as she moved her hand around his length, giggling when he groaned at her touch. “Please…”
“Please, what? Tell me what you need, love.” Aaron kissed her again.
“Aaron, please fuck me,” Iriye was helpless to her pleasure, needing him. She felt him pull away from the bed, reaching into his bedside drawer and opening a box of gold foil condoms, his length bobbing as he moved.
Aaron helped her up the bed, his fingers landing on her panties and pulling them off. Iriye moaned as he pushed her legs apart, seeing Aaron lowering to her pussy. “I need you.” She let her hands trail down his shoulders and dug into his shoulders softly.
Iriye let out a moan as he licked at her pussy, seeing her juices on Aaron’s lips.
“Please, Aaron.” Iriye begged. Aaron smirked up at her from between her legs. “Since you’re using your words,” Aaron trailed kisses up her body, her skin heating up more and more. Iriye moaned and kissed him back when he made it to her lips.
Aaron grabbed the condom, using his teeth to open it. He slipped it on as Iriye’s hand slipped to rub her clit and Aaron pushed it away. His condom covered length pushed between her lower lips, teasing her clit and a gasp came out of her. He slid his length between her lips a few more times, whines leaving her body as he teased her.
“Iriye…” Aaron groaned, sliding between her lips one more time before he grasped her cheek. “Keep your eyes on me. Let me know if you need me to stop.” Iriye nodded, her eyes locking on his. She felt him at her entrance, and he pushed in, Iriye gasping out.
Aaron could feel how warm she was through the condom, his length fitting inside of her like a glove. He had to focus as he fantasized about the moment he would feel all of Iriye wrapped around him. But his late-night and daytime thoughts were nothing compared to the reality below him, her legs beside his hip as his body pressed into hers.
Iriye tried her best not to squeeze around him, wanting to feel all of him, and she was.
“You feel so good, Aaron,” Iriye moaned, already beginning to feel intoxicated with lust. She cupped his cheek to pull him in for a kiss. “Move, please.” “Yes,” Aaron raised himself on his arms, pulling his length out before pushing back in, slow thrusts making Iriye whine. Her hands dragged from his hips to his back, nails grasping onto the caramel skin as she tried to focus on anything but Aaron taking her.
Iriye rolled her hips against Aaron, and groans fell from his lips. She could see he kept his chain on, and she leaned to kiss him. The way his eyes caught hers, the sight too much for Iriye to focus on so she kissed him, letting him swallow all the moans and gasps that came from her.
“Shit Iriye,” Aaron moaned against her lips. The moans, groans and smack of flesh meeting wet pussy filled the room.
“You’re fucking me so good,” Iriye cried out. “Harder, baby.” Aaron obliged her, hips moving deeper and faster into her. “Just like that,” Iriye’s eyes rolled into the back of her head. His hips moved into her, colliding with the flesh of her skin. Iriye wrapped her legs around his waist. Keeping him closer as he dug deeper into her.
“You like being filled like this?” Aaron breathed.
“Mhm,”
“That’s not good enough,” Aaron said, giving her a hard thrust into the fleshy spot that had a cry coming from Iriye. “Tell me. Talk to me, Iriye,” He groaned.
“It feels… it feels like you were meant to be inside me.” Iriye licked her lips, the lewd sounds of his cock moving inside of her echoed in his room.
Aaron watched her for a moment, seeing how her breasts moved with every thrust, the different sounds coming out of her as he moved a certain way. It made him want to lose it quickly, and he was okay with that as long as she came first. He could feel her walls tightening, and Iriye was getting worked up. That just made him thrust harder into her, her cries building more and more. Her pussy tightening around him as he coaxed her orgasm from her with his hard cock.
“Iriye…” He groaned, one of his hands sliding to her ass, to pull her harder into him. Her toes clenched at the feeling, liking how he was manhandling her as she grew closer.
“Don’t stop,” Iriye cried, her hand sliding down between them, her fingers finding her clit and rubbing it. Seeing her touching herself made Aaron focus on hitting her G-spot, the cries and moans between them making their breathing erratic and their movements following suit.
“Oh shit,”
“Yes! Right there,”
“Iriye!” Aaron growled into her ear as he rolled himself into her, feeling the pit in his stomach grow. His balls tightened up and he moved faster, needing her to cum first.
“Shit! Oh! Aaron,” Iriye rubbed her clit faster, cries leaving her body as his thrust becane faster. With a grasp of her ass to pull her against him, the damn broke and Iriye cried out as she came, her juices spilling and coating the condom.
Her walls tightening as she came had Aaron stuttering in a thrust before he fastened his pace once more, drawing Iriye’s orgasm out. It took him ix more wet thrust before he spilled into the condom, pulling Iriye’s hips closer to him. Iriye pressed kisses against his lips, cheeks, and shoulders, clutching onto him as they moved together, riding out their orgasms.
Their hips slowed, sweat clinging to their bodies as Aaron struggled not to suffocate her beneath the weight of his body. However, Iriye pulled him closer. Once he had regained his strength, he dragged them further up the bed. Iriye giggled as she felt his kisses all over her face before he found her lips. She moaned into his mouth as his hand rested on her stomach, and she whined. Aaron pulled out of her, and she whimpered, feeling her juices spilling out. He kissed down her body, lips moving to kiss and suck at her hard nipples.
“Aaron…” Iriye whined as she dragged her nails over his head as he kissed down. “You gotta…” She arched against him when he kissed down the softness of her bell, his tongue licking between her folds. “Let me catch my breath.”
“You got it, love.” He spread her legs over his shoulders. “Just breathe and let me taste you till you’re ready for round two.”
Iriye watched as Aaron devoured her, her night just beginning.
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.chapter warnings: This entire part is CNC. If you are not comfortable with that as a kink please do NOT engage with the material. Another large kink warning for this chapter is that Terry is a Sexual Sadist his pleasure isn't coming from the act of p in v sex. This part is about his pleasure specifically and his kinks. Nami benefits yes, I guess you could say, but Terry stands ten toes on "you're here for my pleasure".
🟡 🟢 🔴 ⚫
.word count: 8k

Kinks explored: CNC, Anal, Shibari, Spanking, Choking, Primal Play, Sexual Sadism, Sensory Deprivation, Dacryphilia. Somnophilia. Terry is very chatty.

Taglist: @nayaesworld @peachbuttetfly @heauxvibez @avoidthings @mymindisneverhere @eilujion @heytaewrites @insidefeelingofanadult @captainwithoutmakingitlove @kindofaintrovert @jimmybutlrr @beenathembo @virgomess @theereina @randomhood @ash-ketchumzzz @megamindsecretlair
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.summary.: It wasn't anything Nami did to make Terry so curt with her and nothing she did could change his mood or his plans.
Everything was pissing Terry off. He watched Nami busy herself around his kitchen. Everything. Her yellow dress wasn't right. He didn't like the straps and how they crossed in the back. He wanted her naked and he knew if he told her she would strip down for him. Yet, he didn't want that. Curling his hands into a fist he almost missed Nami walking over with a smile with their early dinner. He'd asked for the same dish she cooked two weeks ago he praised, though now he stared at the bowl of grilled chicken and roasted vegetables, pissed off.
"Is everything okay?"
Nami had notice his mood was off the moment he called her over. He did want to spend time with her. That wasn't the issue. Terry's eyes flickered up to Nami and then back to his plate.
"I'm not hungry anymore."
"Oh,' she says, slightly disappointed. “Okay, I’ll put this alway then.”
He said nothing and she took the plate back to the stove. She found containers and stored his food in the fridge before cleaning his plate. Terry could see the unease in her tense body.
"I think Daddy has been too nice to you." He paused. "And Sir, well, he may need some correction as well."
The words fell on Nami like ice cold water. She didn't know what to say but she didn't like the tone of voice he was using. It was different. Off kilter and she immediately knew who wasn't here with her. Daddy had been shelved and Sir took a vacation.
"You know what I do adore about you Nami is your auditory perception skills." He praised, but it was more of a back handed compliment from these new lips. "It keeps you one step ahead of me and I don't like that."
"I'm not trying to be ahead of you." What she should call him still was unspoken so the air around them tingled in silence for a few seconds.
"I'm sure you aren't."
She could hear the chair scrape the floor as he stood up. She resumed packing away the rest of the meal she had thought they would enjoy together. She felt like he was still standing there so she continued. Only pausing when she was finished, eyes focused on his lips instead of his eyes.
His posture was surprisingly relaxed. However, his arms were folded across his chest. His expression was unamused, lips pursed, and his eyes downcast. She realized he was sucking his teeth with a tight jaw, the gesture so unlike him.
"But you are and that needs to be rectified. Don't you think?" He asked.
Her 'yes' would be admitting to his statement and they both knew that. Any answer would admit it. She knew not to say 'no' because why would she lie? Nami's shoulders slumped forward slightly and she looked down at the floor. She saw his feet approach. A clean man she knew his feet were neat like his fingers. They stopped in front of her and his scent filled her nose. Smoke. Terry smelled like heavy smoke and it confused her. He always smelled clean or neutral. This scent was artificial and heavy. Intentional. Distorting. Distracting.
"I-'
She loved his hands. She had to remember that, but when he grabbed her jaw and squeeze, Nami whimpered in pain. He tilted her head up so they made eye contact. His fingers dug into her skin so tightly she could feel him pressing against the bones in her jaw.
"You need to look at me when you speak. That's basic respect."
He let her go and when she began to lower her head he pushed it back up, smacking the bottom of her chin roughly. Her teeth smacked together and her eyes began to water.
"Don't cry. I haven't done anything worth that yet."
Terry leaned down until they were eye level. Nami, overwhelmed, lifted her hands as if was going to push him away. Ever perceptive, her Dom grabbed her by the wrists and yanked the behind her back. Holding them there in annoyance.
"You've never come that closing to knowingly putting your hands on me. Don't make that mistake. Not tonight." He looked into her brown eyes with a glint in his own. Mischief spread through him and his lip curled upwards on one side. "You have a few minutes to let me know what you're feeling right now. Afterwards, I'm doing a refresher."
Nami held still in his grip, her shoulders beginning to ache as he pushed upwards on her arms. They were folded across her back, but the added push kept them rigid. She winced when she tried to adjust and felt his grip tighten.
"What's your name?" She whispered.
Terry hummed. "Are you smart, Nami?" He replied. "Because I asked you to tell me how you're feeling and here you are asking me a question."
Nami looked away from him. She didn't know how to navigate this situation. Being this close to him she noticed the scent of smoke grew thicker. Focusing on that she did begin to feel a little fear.
"You're setting a dangerous precedent that you don't give a fuck about your feelings. I accept that. So I won't care either." He let out a disappointed sigh. "I'm being mean,' he says, lowering his gaze to her, "let's do this in a way you are familiar with, shall we?"
Terry turned around and moved to the dining table. He turned around one of the chairs and plopped down into it, a smile on his thick lips.
"Come."
Nami took a step and froze when he snapped his fingers. "Nah, on your knees."
"What?" She spoke, the word falling off her lips, accidently.
"Excuse me?"
Nami's eyes widened as she covered her mouth with her hands. "I'm sor-'
"Shut up and do what I said. That's the apology.."
He could see her hesitation and if he wasn't pushing her boundaries what was the point? She was a little lamb, standing in his kitchen, and he was the wolf. He was ready to hunt.
"I don't want to come get you, Nami." Terry scratched at his jaw. "You know the only way out of this."
"I don't want out." She whispered.
Terry clasped his hand together and leaned back in the seat. His legs spread and he made himself look inviting, though the expression on his face was hard. Nami sucked in a deep breath and as she lowered to her knees she let it out. She couldn't see him over the island that separated them, so she used the few seconds to collect herself. The floor was cold under her hands, as she moved one leg and hand at a time. She had her head back, knowing if she came around the corner with her head down, he'd say something. Or in his mood, do something.
As she crawled around the island, she saw Terry glanced down at her. He didn't move, but his eyes followed her as she crawled towards to him. When she was closer enough, Terry wrapped a hand around her curls, twisting them into a makeshift pony tail he used to pull her up.
"You're going to hate me by the end of the night,' he speaks slowly, his hips rising from the chair while he pushes down his sweats. "Too bad I won't give a damn."
His dick springs free, semi-erect as he shimmies the sweats around his ankles. Nami's mouth opens instinctively, and he obliges. Guiding her head closer, he pushed the tip past her tongue, finding home int he back of her throat. Nami blinked through the gagging sensation, her hands bracing to the floor as his grip slackened. Terry slid closer to the edge of the chair, letting her stay on her hands nad knees with his dick pushed down her throat.
"We're about to go through your rules for today."
Nami nodded, slurping sounds filled his ear as she willed herself to remain still. Terry pushed her head further down his shaft, stopping when her nose brushed his lower abdomen. He hummed and reached between them to pinch her nose. Nami's eyes shot up to him and he met her gaze, a wink followed before he released her. He watched her struggle to breath around his dick, choking and blubbering messily as she regained control of her ragged breaths.
"The first,' he says, patting the top of her head, "you do not speak. You do not make a sound. I could be fucking you into oblivious and I better not hear it." He flicked her nose, a threat to pinch it again, and smiled when she inclined her head away from his touch. "How can you hear me if you're making all that noise?"
Nami wanted to give a sound of agreement, but she waited.
"Oh, see, that's selective listening." He ran his thumb around her lips, collecting some of the spit that had seeped out. "I want you active."
Terry removed her from his dick, thick spit and drool flooded from her mouth and he used his hand to wipe it all over her face.
"Eyes on me,' he snaps, tilting her chin up. "Two, if you want to stop then you need to use the safe word. Do you remember it?"
Nami nodded.
"Do you want to use it now?"
Nami shook her head.
"I'm not going to be gentle. I don't even care if you cum tonight."
His hand is slowly stroking his dick, the tip pressed to her lips as he talks. Pre-cum leaks over her lips but she keeps them closed.
"Three, follow my instructions."
Nami watches him stand up, his dick flush in her face. He stepped around her and yanked the dress off, tossing it somewhere in the living room.
"Crawl to the garage."
Nami bit back the urge to whine. Her throat was beginning to ache and so was her pussy. As she crawled, Terry followed her. When she was a few paces from the garage door he landed a smack to her left ass cheek. It popped loudly and Nami's knee gave out from the strike. A heavy hand wrapped around her ankle and dragged her back through the kitchen and to the dining table.
She couldn't hold back and the sudden strike to her skin made her scream. His hand hurt. The pressure he applied was tenfold. Terry rolled his eyes, and let out a breath through his nose.
"Go!"
He watched her crawl again, this time letting her hand wrap around the handle, before he hit her ass upwards, watching the recoil, the painful recoil. Nami pushed open the door, almost falling down the first stair into the basement.
Terry snatched her by the back of the head and brought her too her feet. "Ten."
He flips on the light and pushed Nami ahead of him. His hold on her hair tightening as she walks down the stairs. The room was cold. Along the walls were riding crops, shelves of toys, a basket of lube, and the St. Andrews cross bolted to the wall piqued her interest. There was a bed, but she was pushed to the floor in front of it. Her familiar yellow cuffs were already hooked to the bed. Terry sat in a chair he pulled from a side wall. Fluidly, he tosses Nami over his lap. He raises his hand and swings down, smacking her right ass cheek twice.
"Acknowledge by holding up the right number of fingers."
Her arm flew out as she flashed him two fingers. One of them she wanted to flash by itself.
"You only had three rules. Easy,' he hissed, "and you broke one so quickly."
Nami's played back the interaction a few moments ago. She crawled. Her body sagged into his legs.
Crawl to the garage. That was it. She opened the fucking door.
Terry finished her punishment quickly. She was disoriented each time he asked for the count, but when he go to ten, she threw her hands up as high as they would go. Her ass wasn't the only thing burning. Terry had landed hits to the backs of her thighs as well. He pushed her off his lap and stood as she dropped to the floor.
45. The submissive wants to feel used.
She knew he was going to go through that list of kinks, but she didn't know if she wanted Terry to be the one to do them. She didn't want out, but her body was screaming bitch run.
"Are you ready to play?"

She could hear chains and rattling. From the floor, she pushed to sit on her knees, and watched him. Colorful thick ropes dangled from his hands as he approached her naked form. Terry lowered on his haunches in front of her and his pursed lips looked inviting, but she knew better than to lean forward and seek him out.
"I hope I won't spend the rest of the night putting my hands on you."
He tipped her chin up with a finger. Again, Nami shook her head, still reeling from the previous spanking.
"We're going to take this at a reasonable pace." He showed her the yellow ropes. "Hands."
Nami clasped her hands together and held them out. The yellow rope was wrapped around them snugly. In his other hand was the end of a pully system that he connected the rope to. He stood and hooked the pulley back into the wall. There was a tug on the ropes as he tested he tension. Beside him was a table where he pulled a black eye mask from the drawer. It slammed shut and his silence began to unnerve her. She needed to hear his voice. It was fitted over her eyes.
Darkness flooded her eyes. Unable to see him she didn't know where he was in the room. His scent was still smoky and heavy, this time laced with an urgency she could practically feel. She tried to listen, hear where he was, but was betrayed by the brown noise he started to play over speakers. The static sound didn't soothe her anticipation, it added to the cacophony of anxiety she felt.
The pulley suddenly began to tug and Nami followed her arms as they were lifted above her head. When she was on her feet the pulley continued, lifting her to the tips of her toes before it stopped. She dangled there, barley touching the ground while trying to position her arms to they didn't lock up.
A hand flattened against her stomach and she was pushed backwards. She swung a few inches as she pulled on the pulley to some stability. As she regain her position a rope was thrown around her stomach and tied. She couldn't make out the pattern, but she felt three knots going down her belly. His breathing was soft and she could feel his breath fanning against her face. Terry kissed her as he tested the tightness of the knots. He bit her bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth as he pulled away.
A heavy hand landed on her knee and pushed it towards her stomach. There was another rope, binding her leg to her thigh. It left her on one foot and she could feel the cool air between her legs, the dampness she had been trying to stifle had reared its ugly ass betraying head. His hand dipped between her thighs as he admired his work.
"You should see how good you look."
He circled her, his hand dragging over her sensitive skin. The ropes pressed into her. The snug binding provided the touch she was craving for a brief moment.
"Fine ass." He breathed into her ear. "It's a shame what I have planned for it."
She wanted him to act.
He pulled her back against his chest. His hand crept down her stomach, dangerously close to her sex. Swatting her ass, Terry resumed being distant. She could hear ropes as they fell to the floor. A third was hooked into the knots on her stomach and she felt it being raised. Secured, Terry bought her other leg up to her chest and bound it the same as the other. The elevated open frog pose split open her slit and his greedy eyes fell to the way she was beginning to drip. He knew he was on the right track, but like her, he liked to fuck shit up too.
He walked to the pulley on the wall that held her hands up and released it. The tension slackened so quickly that Nami anticipated falling to the ground. However, the impact never came. She had instinctively clenched her eyes shut. The blindfold reminded her she was visonless when she opened her eyes.
Dangling from the ceiling, she was at his mercy.
"I know you don't remember the order of kinks on the list I gave you. But I am sure you are familiar with this one, baby."
Terry came to stand in front of her. He placed his hands on her hips and she had learned quickly how menacing his hands could be. From giving out pleasure to swatting her ass into hell, they were becoming a terror to her temperament. When he stepped between her thighs, she could feel his bulge; firm, rigid, hard against her sex.
"Perfect."
He steps away from her and if only she could see the grin on his lips.
"Acknowledge with your hands." He ordered.
Leather.
Wet.
Stinging.
He struck her with a long black riding crop on her inner thighs. Nami jerked against the only rope holding her up and Terry landed a corrective swat to her side. She twisted away from the sting.
She held up one finger, a tremble in her hand as it dropped and dangled beside her. The pull on her stomach was uncomfortable. She felt like she was being split down the middle. The crop slid down between her breast, circled her nipples before it smacked them both. Her body tried to curl in on itself, but the rope restricted the movement.
Each his was harder than the last, she was whimpering, trying to keep the noise down, but he wasn't making it easier. It was like he was hitting her to make her make noise. He wanted her to break. He wanted to hear her, but between the pain and his unrelenting strikes to her body, Nami felt warm. She couldn't rub her thighs together, but her pussy betrayed her even further and began to leak and drip to the floor. She wasn't sure if he noticed, but she could feel her slickness sliding between her ass cheeks.
The crop landed between her legs, stroking her cunt and coating the leather in slick. He popped her a few times, laughing slightly as she hissed between her clenched teeth. She knew he was building up to something, but the what still thwarted her.
For Terry she was a blank canvas and the crop was his paint brush. He littered her body with hits, ignoring the way she curled way from him. It was a game then and he chased her. The crop became an extension of him and when he drew his hand back, to swat her ass for what he was sure the hundredth time, he heard it. Like her cunt, her face was leaking. Fresh tears rolled down her face as she began to grasp as the air around her for something to hold on to. She wasn't outright crying, but when he walked to stand by her head, he could see her lips trembling. Her body was betraying her. He was elated to see her reaction. It wasn't about enjoyment.
This wasn't her playtime.
Terry grabbed her head and pulled her up, the blood rushed down her body and she instantly felt loopy. He pulled off the blindfold, her red eyes brimmed with unshed tears.
Nami studied his face. He wasn't looking at her. He was looking through her. Terry's tongue flatted against her cheek as he licked her tears. The salty taste almost as good as what he knew her pussy tasted like. He let her go, watching her body swing towards the floor before it was caught by her restraints.
She doesn't remember how many time he hit her but when her body was lowered to the ground and she was turned on her stomach, she knew he had. Of course he had.
He came to a stop beside her, the crop hung at his side. His dick strained against his sweats and threatened to burst out. Not that she'd mind it. She'd much rather be choking on dick than her tears. She pressed her forehead into the floor only for it to be yanked up.
"You stopped counting after seven. You missed the last thirteen. I'll add it to your tab. I want you to feel it."
Terry cut the rope around her stomach and legs, though he didn't leave her unbound for long. She could hear another drawer opening and slamming shut as she laid on the floor.
His disregard for her was hurtful as if he didn't care about how she was feeling.
You're setting a dangerous precedent that you don't give a fuck about your feelings. I accept that. So I won't care either.
This time she was crying from his distance and not the physical distance. He wasn't here with her. She could usually read him and figure out how to lure softness from him. Terry had been keeping himself at a distance and only perused her body when he wanted to. She had been resistant to him the entire night, pushing back in hopes he would break, but the past few hours hadn't given her any reprieve. He just became rougher, testing her limits, and kept his emotions in check. He didn't seem to have any buttons to push and Nami whimpered into the floor.
The rope was black this time as he pushed her on her stomach. Her feet were bound together first and he lifted them. The ache in her thighs and legs magnified as they fell to the ground with a hard thud.
She saw a flash of yellow and a dress was tugged over her head. The blindfold was put back on and she was pulled up and over Terry's shoulder. His hands smacked the back of her thighs in jest. Mocking her for crying.
"Oh, baby,' he jeered, "Daddy making you cry?"
Nami felt the chill of the air as they stepped outside to his car. She noted the sunset, the various colors muddled together from the blindfold and the upside down position.
"It's good for you. I want you pleading for me to let up and while your begging me for a break, I'm going to keep breaking you." His finger dug into the flesh of her ass. "I'm going to make you mourn, baby."
A few beeps later and she was on her feet as Terry opened the trunk of the car.
"Let's go for a ride."

Nami lied in the trunk of Terry's car as he drove. He had given her a yellow dress, but between the blindfold and her tightly bound wrists, she didn't know what it looked liked. Each bump of the road jolted Nami around the trunk and she ended up on her stomach, her hogtied hands and feet up in the air.
Positional restraint asphyxia, he had explained while she dangled from his basement ceiling. On her stomach, the strain in her arms and the tight space made the trunk feel even smaller. Nami laid her head down, breathing in slowly through her nose. He had taped her mouth shut and with the blindfold, she could only hear and it was driving her insane. The car came to a sudden stop and Nami rolled to her side unintentionally. She could hear his door slamming shut and the shuffle of his boots on the ground as he approached the back of the car.
From the outside, Terry rubbed his gloved hand over the top of the trunk, patting it twice before it opened. Nami flinched from the sudden sound and she could hear Terry speaking. He unclipped her hands and feet before dragging her out of the car. He snatched off the blindfold and helped her stand up.
"Welcome to my playhouse,' he muttered, a grin slowly creeping on his lips.
Legs weak, Nami was pushed towards the large house. She looked around in the cover of night, eyes blurry, and saw a long path that led to the backyard. She could see tall bushes over the fence line. Terry dragged her up the steps, picking her up off her feet twice to get her up the stairs faster. There was no change in his breathing, no struggle, no pause.
"I did what you liked,' he said flippantly, "now we'll do what I like."
Had they done what she liked? Maybe she liked being tied, but the way he tied her wasn't what she would call fun. As her eyes began to adjust, she noted the darkness of the house. She stood in the foyer, the new surroundings heightening her anxiety for what was to come. He left her there and she looked around, taking only a few steps into the living room.
Terry was a man starved at this point. He tasted her sweet pussy and wanted more. He needed more from her but he wanted her leaking everywhere. He wanted to choke her full of his dick.
Like a lumberjack, Terry stalked into the living room dressed in all black. His outfit consisted of his tactical gear, a grin, heavy boots and he even had a pair in his hand. Nami stood there, the rope bruises decorated her arms and legs in red and yellow splotches, the yellow peasant dress covered just enough. As sheer at it was she might as well be naked. She much preferred that than to this. He knelt in front of her and helped her into the boots. His rough hands trailed up her legs and back down. His eyes were lustfull with pupils blown like he was on drugs.
He stood up and pointed towards the back yard.
"I want to see how good those skills are." He whispered in her ear. "I'm going to give you a two minute headstart. Hide from me and don't let me catch you."
He pushed her towards the back patio door. He told her nothing about the house. It was designed by a company who specialized in primal play. The entire house was a Dom's version of paradise. The unique feature Nami pushed the door open and ran into was a maze. It was around six feet high of thick bushes. It was artificial for safety as on each wall of the bushes was a kill switch to flatten them to the ground. It was dark and the ground lighting was few and far in between. She had just enough to see. It was cool, the air a bit chilly in the temperature controlled place. Nami's heart raced in her chest as she rounded corner after corner, looking for a hiding spot.
"Fuck,' she cursed, panting as she came to a halt at a dead end.
She turned around, managing to slip down another pathway that led towards a fountain. She had two options to pick from and as the blood rushed behind her ears her eyes darted between each choice.
“You’re so fucking loud, Nami, damn. You’re making this too easy.”
Terry strutted into the area just a few paces from where she stood.
“Come here.”
Nami took a step backwards. He shook her head, remembering the words he told her just five minutes ago. Don’t let me catch you.
Nami turned on her heels and bolted down one of the paths. It was darker and colder in this area and she realized he set different temperatures for certain paths. Her breathing became labored as the path came to an end. Nami slapped her hands over her mouth to muffle her panting. The bushes were moving. He was running. This time he was too close to turn and go back. She could hear his heavy boots as they smacked against the ground. Nami clenched her eyes shut as his boots stopped just on the other side of the bush. She could vaguely see his silhouette as he drew closer. His boot came into her line of sight first. Then his legs. In the dark she could barely make out his features.
“Found you,” he sings in a whisper.
Nami takes a step back, the bushes stopping her. Her dominant reached out for her and she shook, dodging his attempt to grab her. Terry loudly kissed his teeth.
“Don’t play with me.”
Nami wasn’t just going to let him catch her. If he wanted to play then she’d play. Nimble, she waited for him to grab her a second time. She lifted her hands and slipped out his grasp, using the momentum, she spun and put space between them.
"Nami."
He reached for her and curled his hand around her neck. He was standing to his full height, breathing heavy, and she dropped her weight, the sudden change causing his grip to slacken. She smacked his hand away and ducked under him.
“Nami,” he growled. “If I get my hands-”
She didn’t wait for him to finish that sentence. Instead she ran back down the path, stumbling and detouring to the left instead of the right. These pathways were shorter, less dead ends but more curves and cut away bushes. She slipped in and out of them, panting from frustration as it seemed like she was running in a circle.
Her chest burned as she tried to keep her breathing down. She didn’t want to make too much noise and alert him to where she was. She also couldn’t drag this chase out. He wasn’t going to let her get away so easily a third time. She could hear the frustration in his voice a few minutes ago.
I'm going to tear that ass up!
His voice echoed through the maze and she couldn't pinpoint where he was.
When I get my fucking hands on you!
Nami's head snapped up then she looked down where the lights were. His shadow stalked closer and she walked backwards. He as on the other side of the bushes, just within reach, but out of sight. Slapping her hands over her mouth, Nami tried stepping forward, but his shadow stopped. Surely, if she could see his, he could see hers.
"Oh, look at that,' he teased darkly, "there she is."
She pressed herself against the bushes opposite of where he stood. She side walked, hoping he couldn't see her moving.
"There's no way to get away from me." He tsks. "You go left, I'll see you. If you take the right, that makes it easier to catch you. And Nami,' he says, his voice lowering, "when I catch you." He breathed in and let out a low moan. "That pussy is mine."
The thrill of the chase was wearing down as his threat on her cunt was said. Though, her clit throbbed at the possibility of being touched again, but her thighs still stung from his earlier punishment. She knew this time would be worse. He planned to lay into her. The soft material of the dress rubbed roughly against her taut nipples. She was aroused in a way that scared her.
“Come on out.” He sung. “I won’t bite too hard.”
She had to go left. Nami kicked off the boots, they were heavy and she was much lighter on her bare feet. The thick white socks followed and she tossed them over the hedge she knew he'd look, even for a millisecond- so she B O L T E D. He was right, he would see her if she went left, but in her haste and only when she rounded the corner that she realized she ran past him. Her body flung to the left, nearly toppling to the ground as she skipped slash skidded around the corner. She was sweating at this point and she wiped her forehead with the back of her hands. Her curls were damp around her face and the pretty bow he shoved in her hair had unwoven and was half hanging on to a curl.
"This nigga,' Nami thought to herself.
The slight skin tingling feeling of fleeing Terry had ignited a fire in her lower belly. She dared herself and reached between her legs. Sticky. Wet.
"Can't believe it can you,' Terry says as he approaches. "This nigga what?" He asked.
Fuck.
"This game was supposed to have a much……easier endgame, but you like to fuck shit up right at the finish line."
He looked and pointed over her shoulder.
"This is the Cave." He explained. "All pathways lead here unless I lead you out." He pulled his phone from his pocket and she figured he opened an app that changed the lighting. "Sound proof, underground." He mused.
Nami's head snapped up. Underground? Sound proof? Terry watched her; the way her shoulder slumped forward, but he could see she was trying to remain engaged. She had no idea what she had agreed to and standing there she had no idea how she was making Terry feel. Bricked.
The chase had awakened a piece of him he reserved for work. For training other soldiers. For when he was in the field. She was a target. His two worlds clashing in a satisfactory way and he felt the dopamine release, his body tingling with his own thoughts of filth and hard debauchery.
He was on her in seconds, hands ripping the fabric of her dress. He pushed her backwards, the ground changing from a hard gym mat material to plush carpets and tile. The end of the maze was a bedroom, stocked with whatever the renter needed at the time. There was an ensuite as well. Terry grabbed at Nami; her waist, her hips, thighs, whatever he could as he kissed her. She was guided to the bed and pushed to the center of it. He shed the gear and she realized it was weighted. Beneath it, his shirt was drenched in sweat and she knew her body was as well. He covered her body with his own, his clothes ending up somewhere across the floor.
"I should be fucking you right now. But instead, you made a lot of noise tonight. You had the audacity to cum when I told you not too, and you touched my pussy. You. Touched. Me."
Naked, Terry knelt between her legs, his hands sliding around her waist. His tip brushed through her wet slit, bumping her clit with each upward stroke.
"I mean,' he grunted, pushing in just the tip, "I know I'm going to fuck you like I hate you." He sunk a few inches deeper, his thumb finding her clit easily. "I'm going to push you to the edge, then snatch you back."
Nami felt her mouth slide open, her jaw aching as he slid two fingers into her mouth. He pressed them to the back of her tongue as his hips moved slowly between her legs.
"I should be fucking you like this,' he hums, accentuated his words with shallow thrusts. "But you disobeyed me." He flashed her a toothy smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I'm bullshittin',' he joked.
"I was never going to fuck you like this."

Tired was an understatement. Nami's limbs were weak, her shoulders sore, his thighs ached, and her ass felt raw. Terry had laid into her like he said he would and he she was, counting out the slaps to her ass again.
33.
Thirty-three.
He added the thirteen from earlier and had been very intent on her counting each one of them.
Nami was positon on her hands and knees while he stood in front of her, pumping his dick in and out of her mouth. Her hands dug into the bed, gripping the sheets as he rode her face. The swell of her ass was read, fifteen hits later, and he broke off to fuck her throat. Her collar, which he had taken off prior to the start of all this, was replaced with a belt that was snug around her neck. The rest of the belt was curled around his hand as he pulled, listening to her gag and struggle to breath. He reached down, pinking her nose closed before shoving his dick across her tongue.
He pulled out and released her nose, the belt slacked and right before he struck her ass for the sixteenth time, he collected her spit and drool in his hand to use. Nami raised her hand, signing the number sixteen before her attention went back to the dick in her mouth.
"That's it,' he coos tauntingly, 'suck my dick."
Her head bobbed up and down as she looked up at him. His eyes were on her, focused, but didn't show any emotion or even pleasure.
"Such a good little slut." He crooned. "This is what you're here for,' he explained. "There you go,' swallow that shit,' he grunt, pushing into her mouth and holding her still again.
The tension on the belt was sure to leave marks, but Nami was beyond caring. There were no mirrors but when she looked at her wrists and saw the bruising, she knew her body matched. She was littered in red hand prints and rope bruises. She felt the him deep in her bones. Terry was unsettling. His voice lacked emotions. Though she understood the dick twitching in her mouth.
Terry pulled her of, his dick falling out of her mouth with a wet pop. her mouth was flooded with spit and precum and she pooled it in her mouth before pushing it out. Terry watched it stream to the bed, creating a puddle.
"Turn around, ass up."
The anal plug he had neglected shone as the light hit it. He'd been admiring it all night, watching the way it was sucked in each time she clenched. Placing a hand between her shoulders, he pushes Nami into the bed as his dick slipping through her wet slit.
He didn't ask if she was ready. His hips snapped forward and she almost slide across the bed. How could she want something and pull away from it at the same time. Her pussy was sore and swollen from his lack of attention. She was beyonce aroused.
She feel him grab the belt against and she's pulled backwards by it.
Ride it like hydraulics, I am such a tyrant….
One hand planted on her hip he kept her still as his thrust in-and-out while she clung to the bed on her knees. She clenched her teeth with each thrust, stomaching all nine and a half inches from the shallow thrusts. He didn't hold her for long. His hand resumed striking her ass. As if she could see him, she stretched her arm out, counting seventeen in sign language like she had when she reached ten earlier. He followed through with a few more strikes and she clenched around him. He pulled back on the belt and she gagged, tongue rolling out her mouth as she reached towards the belt.
"Oh?" He says, his hips snapping against her so roughly he could feel his balls slapping up against her clit. "Is this too much?"
He knew it was. Pushing her back down, he ditched the belt and held her hips. He pulled back to watch how his dick slipped in and out of her. Terry admire his own work. How he stretched her open, how he pulled more and more slit from her pussy, and how he was the cause of her drooling. The silence between them was loud, but couldn't get any louder than the sounds her pussy was making.
"Dick makes you act right, hm?" Terry slapped her ass twice, alternating cheeks. He brought her up, and pressed his chest to her back. "You should be doing that regardless. Nothing a little correction won't fix."
The loss of his dick had Nami searching for him again. She felt his hands as they flipped her onto her back. The bed was pulled from her neck and she reached up to touch the sore skin. Her throat was sore and when she had full control of her breathing, Nami turned on her side, erratically sucking in as much air as she could. Terry felt like a distant participant. As if the motions he was going through were robotic and disconnected from the relationship they had built. He put up a solid wall between them, encasing her in his world without letting her into his. This was more than a physical game. It was mental. He was in her head and it made her question her own reality.
Was she really at this man's mercy?
The anal plug, in it's cute silver and yellow design, was pulled from her ass and tossed beside her head. Something was opened as the sound of a cap filled her ears. Cool and thick, lubricant was drizzled between her legs and his fingers smoothed from her ass to her clit.
"Pussy fat as fuck,' he noted, "a fucking shame I didn't want to eat it."
Grabbing her chin, he forced her to look at him. As he had any time he was in her face. "This is where I'm going to nut tonight,' he says as the fat tip of his dick pokes around her asshole.
The sensation was new and she wiggled as her legs spread to accommodate his body between them. His initial push was slow, the stretch past the first ring of muscles made her hands clench beside her. This was something she wished he had bound her for.
Nami's hands became sweaty, her legs move towards her chest as she tried not to kick him away as he pushed forward again. Inch my painstakingly thick inch, Terry seated himself in her ass. Hot and tight, he drew back for his first thrust. She didn't know how to feel. Instead, she braced her hands on the back of her thighs. Nami was well aware of how thick his dick was. She had it down her throat and stuff in her pussy like she was a Thanksgiving turkey. He felt bigger, thicker, longer, reaching parts of her that release pleasurable feelings. Feeling him in her ass was different. He stretched her open, mold her ass to his dick, and fucked her roughly. Terry planted his hands on the sides of her head as his hips rocked back and forth.
"Nasty ass,' he hissed, spittle landing on her face the same way his sweat had. "Look at me when I'm fucking you."
Nami knew it would come back to haunt her later, but she flattened her hands against his stomach, needing a break from the sensation of being fucked in the ass. Terry didn't stop moving, but she saw the glint in his eyes and could hear the gears turning in his head as he logged away her rule breaking for later.
He bore down, applying more weight to his thrusts, jerking her up the bed until he had her by the headboard. Terry braced one hand on the headboard and the other grabbed Nami's hands and pinned them above her head.
"I know you aren't running," he moaned, the sound deep and growl-like.
"Please,' she whispered, "Terry, please, I can't….'
His name felt foreign on her lips.
Terry ignored her please, her body twisting beneath him to get away from him egged him on. Encourage him. He let go of the headboard, balancing on his knees, before his hand struck her outer thigh.
"Shut up." He seethed.
It had all set in for Nami as he fucked her. His body taut and rigid as he chased his high. She could feel his dick throbbing, the stuttering in his hips as he faltered and fell forward, almost on top of her.
Her touch triggered him and though he knew it wasn't sexual, his body treated it like it was. Her hands on his stomach felt she had unlocked his orgasm. The fire in his belly built fast, but Terry was faster. He pushed her face into the bed, his weight spread out over his hand and hips. That hand slid down and wrapped around her neck. His thumb pressed into her skin, rubbing back and forth as he chased his own high.
Beneath him Nami was a mess. She had wrapped her legs around his waist. With no other place to put them she used them to hold on to her dom as he did Dominate things to her ass. Weeks of prep didn't prepare her for the real thing. Being rode like a horse, Nami's breathing hitched, her own orgasm nearing. Her eyes fluttered as she watched his face. The lines around his eyes crinkled as he smirked.
"I'm a bastard I know,' he murmured. "But you like this shit,' he asked.
Did she? Or was it the satisfaction she was chasing that she liked, because Terry? Let me chase you Terry? This fucking mean tyrant?
"You're mean,' she breathed out, a hint of defiance in her eyes. "So mean,' she cried.
His fingers found her swollen clit. He played with it roughly, pulling, pinching, and rubbing so harshly that Nami didn't know if she was coming or going. Her toes began to curl, back arching upwards before he slammed his hand into her chest and pushed her into the bed. It disoriented her and she lost the orgasm.
"I think the fuck not." He shouted.

Ice cold water pelted on her body as her eyes shot open. Nami went to move when an arm tightened around her waist.
"Keep still baby,' Terry whispered.
Nami tensed. She opened her mouth to protest when Terry whispered in her ear for her to relax and calm down.
"Hey,' he says, when she beings to panic, her body shaking from his touch.
Confusion knit through his brows as they drew together. She didn't know where she was. She just knew the person she was with probably wasn't done with her. The aches in her body detailed the night she had with her dominate. The reminders were littered all over her body.
"Nami."
How was she going to apologize for blacking out?
Terry turned her around and she realized they were sitting on the floor of the shower.
"They scene is over. I need you to look at me and take a few deep breaths."
He held her face in his hands. The gentleness drastically different from what she had experienced that day. She didn't know what time it was. She just knew that she was overwhelmed, wired, and slightly scared. He leaned in to kiss her and she flinched. He took no offense. He knew she had to fully come down from that high. Everything he put her through wasn't normal by most standards. He pushed her to her limits mentally and Nami wasn't sure how she felt. For her their dynamic had shifted. She couldn't treat this like some one off or some once in a blue moon event. Terry had flipped her inside out. Rewired her in a way she didn't understand. He owned her body at this point.
He used her.
"Tell me how you're feeling."
There was still an edge to his voice. A bite he was trying to ease away.
"I'm sore." She croaked. "I touched you. I'm sorry!" Her voice cracked and she started to cry again. "I passed out!"
Terry was far from upset with her. He had spent the day dragging her through his ticks and the fact that she only touched him, intentionally, once was a miracle. How she was able to have that restraint when he was unrestrained on her body needed some rewarding.
"36." He replied. "I still fucked you. I made you into my little Twinkie, twice."
"Huh?"
36. The submissive wants to experience somnophilia.
He ignored her and turned on the warm water. Helping her to her feet, he held her up and bathed her. Starting his aftercare while she regained some strength to stand on her own. He kissed each bruise, rope mark, and red splotch on her warm brown skin. His praise mingled with the rhythmic pelting of the shower water on the tiles.
You did good.
Such a good girl you were.
Nami let her head fall back against the shower wall as he lowered to his knees. Her leg was lifted up and onto his shoulder. His mouth latched onto her clit, sucking slowly as she looked down at him.
Those blue green eyes stared back up at her. She recognized them this time and breathed out a sigh of relief.
"Oh, Daddy,' he whimpered. "I missed you."
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what they don’t tell you about writing is AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!! AAAAAAAAAAHH!!!
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"You're setting a dangerous precedent that you don't care about your feelings. I accept that. So I won't care either."
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Me sitting here thinking someone can make my graphic for my Terry fic and me realizing it's me. I have to make it, especially since I want to post a preview.
#terry richmond smut#terry richmond fic#Terry Richmond fanfic#terry richmond fanfiction#terry richmond
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Not me writing a Terry fic.
Terry Richmond hit the black fanfic community on tumblr like crack in the 80s(I ain’t mad at it though 😏).
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COUNTDOWN

Zerina and Aaron had built a quiet but strong relationship over the years, choosing to keep their romance private, known only to their closest friends and family. As their careers skyrocketed, both found themselves navigating the pressures of fame while striving to maintain the bond they’d formed long before the limelight. But with their rising success came the inevitable sacrifice of quality time together. Their once-steady connection was now limited to late nights and stolen moments, with days filled with work and promotional commitments. word count.: 3.2k warnings.: foul language, smut, slight dirty talk. read at your own risk. a/n.: This was supposed to be posted lasted night, but some editing has lead to things being changed, 😭😭. But finally here we are. enjoy!
My baby is a ten
Zerina’s heels clicked against the black wood floors. The fruity sweet scents of honey and peaches instantly greeted her as she opened the door to her salon, she hummed in approval, glancing at the candle warmer on her coffee table that had two fresh melts, her eyes then traveled to the two mugs of coffee sitting next to two slices of chocolate caramel shortbread and miniature forks. She loved miniature things—her own mini-brands collection getting bigger and bigger by the day– and only one person truly knew her love for tiny items. As she moved further into her private salon, his figure emerged from the shampoo area.
“Hi baby.” He has that sweet boyish grin on his face, stalking towards her with open arms. She embraces the warm hug with a sigh, his lips pressed to the side of her head.
“I thought you were filming?” Green Lanterns had started a few weeks filming a few weeks ago, and that meant his schedule was getting busier by the day, rarely making time for a phone call. Zerina charged it to the head as she knew it came with the career of being an rising actor, but she couldn’t deny that she was missing him.
“I am.” He hums, pressing soft kisses along her face, his overgrown beard scratching at her cheeks with each press of his lips in her face. “We had a few technical issues the last few days so they gave us a little break after doing some table reads.”
She looks up at him, moving her head back when he tries to kiss her. “How long have you been free?”
Aaron pauses with a sigh. “Just a few hours, took the first flight back” He had gotten in the night before truthfully, but he wanted to see family he hadn’t seen since the London Mufasa premiere–who then immediately began scolding him for not going to her first. It was a little white lie, but one couldn’t hurt, Not when she was in front of him right now looking and smelling the way she does. Zerina had chosen to wear a white dress that conformed to her curves, a high slit exposing her bronzed thigh. She smelt like vanilla the paired easily with the peach scent of her hair. She smelled like peach cobbler and he was sure she tasted like one too. The black boho braids styled into a side part that stopped past her hips. His favorite protective style on her. The parts were fresh meaning she had just done them. Perfect.
“Aaron.” Zerina wanted to press further but he was quick to easy her worries.
“I’m here now, and I wanna spend time with you before you start your first client.” He hums against her neck, squeezing her tighter in his arms until her melodic laugh fills his ears. Her arms wrap around his neck, letting his lips linger along her jaw.
“You need to shave.”
“Do it for me.”
Aaron sat in the black salon chair with a low grunt, since putting on more weight, and toning out his muscles, he fit a bit more snug shifting to spread his legs and get more comfortable.
“Mhm, you’ve been working out big daddy.” Zerinah bites her lip while giving him a once over, the white shirt he wore clinging to his frame showing off the weeks of training that filled out his chest and arms.
He chuckles, staring up at her, “oh you’ve noticed?”
Zerina smirks, moving to set up the clippers on her station, “I’d be blind not to notice.” Once everything was set up, she moved to stand in front of him, his arms opening as an invitation for her to stand between his legs. His large warm hands push up the bottom of her dress to feel her smooth skin under his fingertips. “You look good.”
“I’ll look better once you get me right.”
Zerina had become Aaron’s personal stylist since the day they first met on the set of Brother. Her jokingly saying his barber fucked him up turned into him booking her for his every cut and trim. Her skilled hands had him looking like a five course meal no matter where he went. Nobody got him right like Zerina.
“I can’t have my baby out here looking like a 2.” She smiles, grabbing the gold babyliss clippers, clicking them on as the low buzz of them filled the room. She pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “My baby is ten.”
Aaron couldn't do anything but smile and return the kiss. “Hey Alexa, play Countdown.”
Okay. playing Countdown by Beyonce on apple music
Boy
Oh, killing me softly and I'm still fallin' Still the one I need, I will always be with you Whoa, you got me all gone, don't ever let me go Say it real loud if you fly If you leave me you're out of your mind
Zerina grabs his neck, her small hand barely fitting around the wide girth of it, she tilted his head to the left, the clippers in her dominant hand to shave off the small patches of hair on his cheek. His hands beneath her dress rubbed and squeezed her thighs.
“Aaron.”
He hums from his chest, moving his hands up to grab her ass. Zerina turned his head over to shave the other side.
“Let me finish this first.”
He pressed a kiss to the inside of her arm where she had a small yin-yang koi fish tattoo inked into her skin. He gives her one last squeeze and drops his hands, the bottom of her dress falling back into place.
Zerina couldn’t help but giggle at the pout on his face as she stepped back to switch out the guards on her clippers to blades. “It’s just until I'm done with your beard and hair.”
“I want to cut that off.” He tells her, making her frown. Zerina loved his hair, his hair being practiced for doing men’s braid styles–A new service and class she wanted to offer to her stylists, and new potential clients. Zerina loved playing in his hair. “It’s time, pretty girl.”
Aaron knew at some point he would have to cut his hair, and while he didn’t care, he knew it was a big deal for Zerina. His hair was she enjoyed doing, it was her favorite form of intimacy,
“I like your hair.”
“I know.” He pulls her back in his arms, kissing the pout on her face, he whispers gently against her lips. “You can wash it one last time before you cut it.”
“I’m turning them into loc extensions if I do.”
He chuckles, knowing she was going to do exactly that. He would let her do anything to avoid an argument on not keeping his hair. “Whatever floats your boat mama.”
My baby is a (ten)
Zerina leaned down to kiss his full lips while her soapy fingers scratched at his scalp, massaging the tension spots with her knuckles in circles. He eagerly returns the kiss, sucking her bottom lip between his own. The discomfort of leaning over him while standing had her moving to straddle his spread legs, his hands grabbed her waist and pressed her down on the bulge in his pants.
“Ya feel me?” He nips at her lips, grinding the front of his pants on her clothed center. Zerina whimpers, sliding her fingers out of his hair to rinse out the soap.
“Mhm.” She relaxes into his touch, rocking her hips in time with his. Their kisses turned sloppy with every swap of spit, and tongue sucking. Zerina loved kissing Aaron, his way of adding pain and pleasure to every swipe of his lips on hers to the way his hips grind against hers.
“Gotta finish your hair.” She reminds him before he takes things too far.

“Oh fuck!” Zerina moans out as Aaron, thrust his hips inside her from behind, his hands sliding up the expanse of her back, his right one going further up to let his fingers scratch at her scalp. Zerina had wanted to protest, her head still a little sore from the tension of the freshly done braids, but the snap of his hips timed with him gripping a handful of her braids to yank her head back had a soft yelp leaving her lips. The moment she finished Aaron’s haircut, and had him looking like he should be on the cover of GQ, The way she stared at him through the mirror while checked himself had Aaron bending her over the salon chair making her take every inch of him like the good girl she was. Aaron was the perfect size for her, his girth stretching her out in ways that had her toes curling. The slight burn tingled her skin.
“Mhm, missed you so much mama.” He groans, watching his cream coated dick glide in and out of her clenching pussy with ease. He hadn't seen her in almost two months and it had been a good three months since he was last inside her like this, and even when he was rushing to get them both off, he relished in the feel of her velvet walls, making note to have her in bed tonight.
“M’missed you to” She gasps just as the head of his dick curved to find that spot, hitting it over and over. Zerina squeezed and dropped her head on the back of the chair, trying to hold in a moan. Not satisfied with the sounds, He plants his feet firmly on the wood floors, his left hand gripping at her hips to keep her steady, the hand with a tight grip on her braids, pulls her back until her back presses into his chest. The new angle caused him to slip out with pop and protest.
“Gotta be quiet baby.” He husks in her ear, moving her from the salon chair and guiding her towards one of the larger chairs in the waiting area. He was quick to put her in a sitting position, spreading her eagle style with her legs over the arm of the chair. The new view let her see the monster between his legs coated and dripping in her slick. It sat heavy and full between his toned thighs. Her haze stricken brown eyes followed him as he dropped to his knees and lay his hands flat against her thighs. Zerina whimpers, mouth agape and head thrown back just as his lips meet her wet lips, using his tongue to flick the swollen nub.
“Don’t want your clients to hear us, do you?”
The salon still opened and eight on the dot. Aaron cleaned and bleached the remnants of their encounter while Zerina adjusted herself and opened up the doors to her first client of the day–who happened to be a close friend since the start of her career.
“Z, girl, you gotta get me right.” The client in question had been Kelly Rowland. A star in her own right. The two had been working together since the filming of The Seat Filler and Kelly didn’t trust anyone else to do her hair, Kelly pulled her into an eager hug she easily reciprocated.
“You know I got you girl, have a seat.” She pats the chair with a smile, the soft door clicking shut turns their heads in that direction, Aaron smiles with a wave.
“Morning Ms. Rowland.” He claps his hands in a slight bow to greet her.
“Mhmm. Aaron Pierre, that's Mufasa.” Kelly smirks while sitting down. “How are you?”
He chuckles walking over to Zerina. “I'm good and you?”
“Better now that your wonderful girlfriend fit me in her crazy schedule.”
“She is the most sought out hair stylist in the A.” Aaron praises, though he wasn’t wrong, Zerina basked in the compliment and leaned into the touch of his hand on the small of her back, the other tilting her chin up for a quick kiss. “I'll be back around for lunch, what do you gotta taste for?”
Zerina smooths out his shirt with a hum, keeping her dirty thoughts of wanting his dick shoved down her throat to herself . “Panera Bread sounds good.”
“Toasted italiano? Greek goddess salad and a citrus punch?” He rattles off her order by memory, also making a mental note to get her a slice of caramel cake from a local dessert shop down the street.
“You know me so well”
Aaron grins, kissing her nose. “See you in a few hours.” He taps her ass and heads out with a million things to check off his to-do list before coming back for lunch to his mind.
“Just so you know Z. Y'all are loud as hell.” Kelly laughs, removing her hat to put in her purse.
Zerina gets warm in embarrassment and avoids responding to that. “What are we doing today?” She runs her fingers through Kelly's short hair.
“Surprise me.”

Lunch time had rolled around pretty quickly, having finished Kelly and a few other clients' hair, the rest of her team made their way in for their shift. She still had another hour before her next client came in and she used that free time to guide her stylists through some of their clients.
“You wanna make sure you get the roots.” Marcel irons in one hand, and rattail comb in the other Zerina parted a section of the hair, using the comb to get out in knots. “If you have too, make smaller sections.” She demonstrates the motion, doing a singular pass over it. “Don't apply too much heat or you risk damaging it.”
“Yes ma’am.”
Zerina goes back to walking around and checking on the rest of the clients who manage to book with her making sure no one needs anything and offers drinks and snacks to those waiting in the sitting area. Zerina shop was the talk of the town with high praises from big names like Kelly Rowland, Zendaya, Teyanna Taylor, and even the icon herself Angela Bassett singing her praises. She would’ve never thought twelve year old Zerina who discovered her love of doing hair from watching her mother do hair would turn her into one of the biggest celebrity stylists in the industry.
“Zerina?”
She turns to see one of her styling assistants, Amara. She was only sixteen, but knew long before now that hair was something she wanted to do for her career. Amara watched Zerina’s career kick off, learning all the tricks and tips she could get from her youtube channel Z Style’s. One lucky encounter at the Atlanta Hair Show, had Zerina taking the young girl under her wing.
“You okay Amara?” Zerina noticed the nervousness in her features and the way she avoided eye contact with her while fiddling with her fingers.
“I think I messed up.”
“How?”
‘Can you come look?”
Zerina follows Amara to the shampoo area where Ms. Gladys, a loyal client of hers, sat at one of the bowls, her features morphed into scowl, hands furiously pulling at her hair, with each pull more and more hair came out.
“I was washing her hair, and grabbed the conditioner to add after the last rinse, and that started happening.” Amara rushes, clearly upset at thinking she messed up on something as simple as washing and conditioning a client.
“Amara, go take you a break and maybe help Rose up front.” Zerina tells her, moving along to her private studio to grab the pink barbour coat to put on. “You’re not in trouble, just calm down and I’ll handle Ms. Gladys.”
“O-okay.” Amara leaves nervously, but grateful to not have to experience a potentially rude customer interaction for the first time. Zerina walks towards Ms. Gladys, fully prepared to do damage control.
“Good Afternoon Ms. Gladys.”
“Zerina, I think that girl messed up my hair.” she furiously pulled at her hair as more and more of it fell out.
“I will look into that, why don’t we go into my private room and see what we can do, and I’ll do my best to fix it, free of charge?”
Gladys purses her lips, “fine, but don’t make me regret it.”
Zerina knew she wouldn’t. Her private booth had everything she needed, wash bowl, dryer, chair and station all aligned it against the largest wall. She started with washing Ms. Gladys hair first, rinsing out whatever was used on it, she then washed and conditioned it with her homemade honey peach shampoo and deep conditioner. She was able to notice only some spots were patchy, but once she washed and blow dried she would be able to better tell.
“Okay.” Zerina claps her hands, they face the large gold floor mirror, Gladys also able to see the state of her hair. “Most of the hair loss is in the center of your head, so I was thinking I can do a braided bun, I have some left over hair you can choose from or we can go completely short and start over.”
Gladys turns her nose up at both options, but the idea of starting over and having healthy, thicker hair sounded promising.”
“What do you suggest?”
“I would start over, you would be gorgeous with a short cut.” Zerina says truthfully.
“Then let’s cut it.”

Aaron stepped into the busy salon with lunch and dessert in hand. He had expected around noon that business would pick up so he spent that time going home to get a work out and a much needed shower in. He crossed a few things off her honey-do list. The most important ones in his mind:
Change the light bulbs on vanity
Pick up packages
Put up shelves in guest room
All eyes went to him as he walked in, ladies whispering amongst themselves and giggling. He does a slight wave, moving swiftly to the back of the Salon. He spotted her stepping out of her private suite with one of her regulars. The older women twirling in the mirror at the new style.
“Oooh weee, Zeri,” She squeals, tapping the short curls that were currently set with some oil sheen spray. “You did your thing with this one. “
“I’m glad you like it. I hope there's no harm done?”
“Oh of course not. Amara was just learning, but somebody here might be setting that girl up.” Gladys points. “Don’t let your reputation suffer at the hands of somebody evil.”
“Yes ma’am. Should I book you for three weeks from now?”
“Yes please. And Hey mufaaasaaa.” Gladys wiggles her fingers at him with a smirk as she left. Aaron chuckles.
“Hi, Ms Gladys.”
“Mhm,” She snorted with a smirk, giving him a once over. “You one lucky girl Zerina”
“Bye Ms. Gladys!” Zerina laughs.
“Mhm.”
Aaron shakes his head, pressing a kiss to her head just as she reaches his side. ‘I brought lunch.”
“Good I’m starving.”
Aaron adjusted her position in his lap, his left arm around her waist held her steady while the right side fed himself some of the family sized broccoli cheddar soup he got for himself. She nibbled on her toasted italiano and stole bites of his own as they ate in silence.
“What do you have planned for the rest of the day?” He asks her, wanting to align the rest of her schedule with dinner reservations with some close friends, and maybe a night at their favorite lounge. Peaches.
“I have a traditional sew in to do and one more silk press. Then there is some stuff I need to fix around the shop.” His eyes follow her hands reaching in the drawer next to her to pull out her list of things to-do. He gave himself the reminder to do that for her while she finished her last clients. “Why?”
“Dinner reservations at Mabella’s. I wanna see you dressed up.”
We dressing to the (nine)

z.village: @onherereading || @ranikyani || @prettyfilmz || @nayaesworld || @simplyzeeka || @luvrsluxe || @disc0fairy || @queeny23 || @novahreign || @usoinked || @ranikyani || @murrylove || @simplyzeeka || @milt-9221 || @thevelvetwhispers || @secretlifeoofmarpessa || @londonberry70 || @ayeeeitsmiracle || @ticalsstallion|| @theogbadbitch || @venusesworld || @keyaho
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MASTERLIST
Author's Note This is my first attempt at fanfiction—so bear with me! The Art of Moving is a series of standalone stories that can also be read as part of a larger collection. There’s no set posting schedule or end date for the series. I am just practicing my creative writing.
The male protagonist is an Aaron Pierre face claim, and an antagonist with a Ruben Loftus-Cheek face claim (If you squint, you might see them—but I’m not comfortable naming a real person just yet. Let’s be imaginatively delulu, okay?).
While there is an original character (OC), I’ve worked hard to avoid defining physical characteristics like height, weight, skin tone, facial features, eye color, or hair. This allows every Black woman to read the character in her own way.
I’m not from the U.K., so if the slang feels off, let me know (don’t—I’m sensitive! 🤭).
Lastly, I do not consent to my work being shared or duplicated on any other websites or platforms.
The Art of ... Serendipity
The Art of ... Tea and Rain
The Art of ... Distraction
The Art of ... Theo & Noa
The Art of ... Kneading Love
The Art of ... Breaking News
The Art of ... Amsterdam
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@bae1305 @fakxmbj @n3utral98 @truilyglori @whore-for-loki @wrecklessabandonment @secretlifeoofmarpessa @purpletigerpanda @invertedempress @disc0fairy @barbiezolanski @thisbeautifullifeofmeandyou @jaszys-fantasy @poshprincess88 @bigestyoutoo @sugarcookie-23 @hxneyclouds @notapradagurl7 @honeys-archives @goldenjasssy @oscarisaaclovebot @todorokishoe24 @onherereading @motheroffae @piscesdashcam @brattyfics @msuncensered @simplyzeeka @beenathembo
chapter seven
Pairing: Aaron Pierre x Black Original Character Warnings: Slow burn. 18+. Smut. oral (giving and receiving). sex. Summary: Iriye and Aaron experience a night of firsts.
Notes: FLY EAGLES FLY! Also, I'm excited to finally get this one out because I figured out the ending for this series, so enjoy the ride. It's gonna have some ups and downs. Comment, like, reblog, or send me asks. I want to hear your thoughts as I love responding.
MASTERLIST
Music floated throughout Iriye’s apartment, and Mariah Carey sang about it being her night, which set the mood. She was happy it was Friday and she had a date with Aaron.
For once, Iriye wasn’t on the lot that day, as she had decided to take a me-time day. She started with some Pilates, trying to remember the last time she had been to a class. Her instructor even asked her where she had been after her workout. She then headed for a quick lunch, walked around her favorite used book store, and got her feet and nails done.
Iriye came home and read a few emails before seeing the time and figuring she should get ready. She started getting ready, spending time scrubbing down in the shower. She exited the shower and moisturized, moving on to her skincare. After feeling refreshed, Iriye went to the closet to see what she had to wear.
As Iriye pondered an ankle-length dress, she heard her phone ring and grabbed it. She smiled as she saw who it was.
“How’s my favorite child?” The smooth voice flowed from the phone, Iriye seeing her mother on the screen.
“Mommy, I’m your only child,” Iriye chuckled.
“Same difference,” Eve, Iriye’s mother, stated. “Oh, you got the silk robe we took from the spa day we had. Where you heading out to?”
Iriye bit her lip as she shook her head. That day with her mom had been a trip.
“Who says I’m going out?” Iriye asked.
“You are shea buttered down my dear. You learned that from me. Do you have a date?” Iriye could hear the smile in her mom’s voice.
“Yes,” Iriye said as she sat on her bed, phone in hand. “I’ve been sort of seeing someone.”
“And by seeing someone, you mean having protected sex?” Eve inquired.
“Mom!” Iriye shook her head at her mother. “We are too close.”
“We raised each other practically,” Eve said. Iriye’s mom was merely twenty-two years old when she found out she was pregnant. But her mom was always too cool, even if she knew when to lay down the law. “You’re my grown daughter. I know you be having sex,”
“We haven’t gotten to know each other that biblically,” Iriye stated. “But he’s different than any man I’ve been interested in before.”
“How so?” Iriye picked at a thread on her cover.
“He’s so… authentically himself,” Iriye admitted. “I think sometimes he looks at me with rose-colored glasses.”
“And what’s wrong with that, sweetie?” Eve asked. Iriye sighed.
“Because what happens when he takes them off and sees me? Sees the good and the bad and the ugly,” Iriye admitted.
“Then you see if he likes what he sees or runs away,” Eve declared. “Not every man is like Jay,” Iriye sighed as she thought of Jay.
“You know he still calls Tamara,” Iriye mentioned. “I can’t fault her. They became great friends through me. But it still hurts. I feel like if I just… was a little more bending and willing to shine more-”
“Some men are just not built for women like you. Women like us. Their loss.” Eve shrugged after interrupting her. “You are so beautiful, intelligent, and talented. If a man can’t see that and step out of the way to let you shine, they don’t even deserve to be in your rays or your shadow.”
“I love you so much, Mommy,” Iriye said, trying not to get teary-eyed. It was blunt and straight to the point, but it was the truth served straight up. No chaser needed.
“Now wipe your tears and show me what you’re wearing. Because I know you took my favorite sweater dress, and I will get it back when I come out to visit,” Eve declared. Iriye got up and went to her closet, showing her options to her mother and purposefully skipping over the things she took from her.
Iriye was trying to clasp her bracelet when she heard a knock at the door. She headed out of her bathroom, looking through the peephole and saw Aaron crouching in it. She smiled softly as she opened the door, stepping back to usher him in as she tried to clasp the bracelet.
“Come in. I’m almost ready,” Iriye spoke, still struggling with the bracelet.
“Here,” Aaron shut the door behind him and approached her. “Let me help you,” Iriye tried again, huffing as she didn’t get it. She held her arm, clutching the bracelet in her hand. Aaron reached forward to find the clasp, his fingers gentle against her skin. He concentrated and finally got the clasp, Iriye smiling warmly.
“Thank you,” Iriye kissed him softly, Aaron smiling against her lips. “Hi,”
“Hello,” Aaron’s arms slipped around her waist. “You look-” He pulled back to take her in, his gaze sending a shiver down her spine. “I think there’s not enough words in my vocabulary that can describe how good you look,”
“Maybe I can help you figure some out. You know… since I’m a writer and all,” Iriye winked. Aaron pulled her back in for a deeper kiss. “Don’t we have dinner plans?” She asked against his lips.
“We do,” Aaron said between kisses before pulling back, his hands smoothing down to her waist. “You look so beautiful, love.”
“Thank you.” Iriye pulled away and grabbed her purse. “Lead the way.”
Aaron and Iriye drove in comfortable silence, mixed with pleasantries and an impromptu sing-along to a Sade song they both loved. As they got closer to the heart of downtown LA, she watched as Aaron navigated the streets, and soon, they entered a parking structure.
Aaron got out once they were parked and headed for her door, opening it for her. Iriye let Aaron help her out of the car, and she adjusted her dress. His hand slipped into hers, the tingles shooting up her arm every time they touched. Once they got to the elevator, Aaron pressed the button for the rooftop, and Iriye eyed him for a moment, him catching her eye.
“What’s on your mind?” Aaron asked, his smooth voice falling on her ears.
“The rooftop?” Iriye stated.
“You’ll see,” Aaron said, kissing her hand. She leaned into him softly, watching the numbers tick off as the elevator rose. Once the elevator stopped and opened, Aaron led her out to a hallway with a frosted glass door. They walked down to the door and Aaron held the door open for her
Iriye took in the rooftop, seeing it was an intimate restaurant. Some were seated inside the glass space and others were further outside on the balcony.
“Aaron, this place looks incredible,” Iriye said, turning to see him taking in her reaction.
“I’m happy to hear that, love,” Aaron stated. A hostess came up and led them over to a table outside. Aaron pulled her chair out for her, waiting till she was sat and comfortable before moving to his.
“Where did you find this spot?” Iriye asked, grabbing the menu so she could look at what she wanted.
“A friend I made while working manages it,” Aaron stated. “And the food is amazing.”
“Look how connected you are.” Iriye looked over the menu and saw what she was thinking about for appetizers. The waiter came over to bring them water and take their drink orders. Iriye was taken in by how the sun set and the night came alive in LA. “I love this view.”
“Me too,” Aaron said as he took Iriye in. Words couldn’t even describe how beautiful she looked. Her eyes met his, and a heat came across his skin.
“Stop it,” Iriye felt her cheeks warming up, the pit in her stomach clenching as she took in him looking at her. “You look very handsome yourself.” “I clean up nicely after a long day,” Aaron chuckled, sipping his water.
“Tell me about your day,” Iriye asked. Aaron raised an eyebrow, which she returned with one of her own. “Please,”
Aaron regaled Iriye with stories of set life, how he was faring with his co-stars for the show, and how he was making friends with the crew. He talked about how the craft team had given him a few snacks that he liked, even though he was trying to stay in shape while filming Lanterns. She found it refreshing.
“I really am fortunate to get to do what I love,” Aaron admitted after the waiter took their order for shared appetizers. Iriye took a sip of her drink that was brought over, humming at the fruity cocktail as she listened.
“You know you’re a rarity, right?” Iriye said. Aaron furrowed her brows. “This business has a way of jading people as they climb upwards and onwards. I’ve worked with a few people at different levels and rarely meet people who genuinely love what they’re doing. Who are grateful,”
“That makes me unique?” Blueish grey eyes stared into her soul, and Iriye had to focus.
“It does to me. No matter how big you get, you’re just you. Just Aaron,” Iriye shrugged, taking another drink. “I like that.”
“I’m glad you do.” Aaron took a sip of his drink. “What about yourself?”
“What about me?”
“Do you love what you do? Writing scripts and scenes for unique people like me to act out,” Aaron rattled out. Iriye took a moment to think.
“It’s a love and hate relationship,” Iriye admitted. “There was a time I hated it—four years into living here. I was working as an assistant for an executive. It felt like they were doing everything possible to make me hate my job. Took so much of my sanity. But I was determined to stick it out. And a year and a half later, I proved myself. She said I could be just like her and take her job. That day, I decided to find another job. Anything. I put my notice in and helped train my replacement when I hired them. I worked at a youth center afterward, trying to find peace of mind. During that time, I found happiness in writing about what I could and wanted. Doing Uber Eats and the odd set job. I never wanted to be that… miserable ever again working a nine to five to make someone else feel important.”
“Are you miserable now? Working on Paradise Lost and all?” Aaron asked.
“Not at all. Everything I worked so hard for is coming to fruition.” Iriye stated. “I’m doing what I love with people who love it just as me,” She admitted. A smile took over Aaron’s face as he reached for her hand, stroking it softly when she put it in his hand.
Appetizers came and went, and Aaron’s friend Troy brought the main courses and two drinks. Iriye was intrigued as Aaron and Troy made quick conversation, retelling how they met.
“Never met a more encouraging spotter,” Troy admitted. Aaron crossed his arms over his chest in thank you.
“Anytime, brother.” Troy and Aaron hugged each other up before Troy shook Iriye’s hand in parting.
The conversation over their main course was pleasant. Iriye learned more about how Aaron was the oldest and how he was close to his siblings and family. How he talked about them made her wish she had someone to share the times growing up.
“I feel like I’ve talked too much,” Aaron stated, Iriye picking off his plate since he hadn’t denied her the first time she did.
“Not at all. I find people with siblings interesting.” Iriye shrugged. “I’m an only child.”
“Your parents were one and done?”
“It was just my mom and I.” Iriye took a bite of his food, chewing and swallowing.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Iriye raised her eyebrow at Aaron. “About your father,”
“I’m not,” Iriye stated. “He left when I was eleven. And honestly, it was probably for the best. My mom and I were better off without him.” She said pointedly.
“How so?” Aaron asked her, his eyes searching hers for a truth. Iriye had to look down at her plate, feeling like she was growing harsh with the mention of her father.
“I… I’m not ready to talk about that,” Iriye simply said. She could see that look in his eyes—the one to dig deeper. “I just feel like it’ll ruin the night.”
“It won’t,” Aaron assured her.
“For me, it will.” Iriye wasn’t sure if she was ready to let Aaron know how she felt about the man responsible for half of who she was.
“I’m not going to pressure you,” Aaron said. “But just know, I’m ready whenever you are,” Iriye relaxed in her chair, those words washing over her. No pressure. Just patience.
“Thank you.”
By the time the check arrived, anticipation was the name of the game. Iriye was sipping her water, as Aaron had asked.
“I don’t want you falling asleep on me,” Aaron teased, Iriye watching as he wrote his signature. Iriye playfully let her heeled foot slide against the inside of his leg, watching as he stopped writing for a moment.
“Focus,” Iriye spoke, taking another sip of her water. Not even its coldness could calm the heat burning through her.
“You’re playing a dangerous game, Iriye.” Aaron felt her foot gently stroking his leg.
“It’s not a bad thing if we both win.” Iriye placed the cup down. “Yours or mine?”
“What are you asking, love?”
“Your place or mine,” Iriye raised a brow. Aaron put his card back in his wallet before sipping his water. Iriye raised her foot high along his leg. She was just so close when-
“You’re something else, Iriye Edwards,” Aaron had her ankle in one hand.
“What can I say? I know what I want. What do you want?” Iriye asked. She felt his fingers rolling her ankle softly in his hands. Aaron licked his bottom lip, those eyes of his growing darker.
“What I want… is to know how you look lying spread out on my bed,” Aaron breathed. Those words made Iriye take a deep breath, unable to break eye contact with him.
“That’s someth-”
“I’m not done,” Aaron interrupted. Iriye shut her mouth quickly, hoping no one else focused on them. “I want to be inside of you every way I can. See how you look when you give in to the pleasure I can bring you, Iriye.” Iriye caught the Jamaican twang at the end of his words and felt the anticipation roll up her back. “Smell your scent on my sheets, even after you leave. Is that something you want?”
“Yes,” Iriye breathed. Aaron smiled.
“Then let’s go,”
Iriye was buzzing as Aaron led her out of the restaurant and back to his car, her clutching onto his arm. It was the comfortable silence, fueled with the thrumming of her heart as she was mentally preparing for what was to come.
But all of it was thrown to the wind once they reached Aaron’s apartment and entered. Iriye didn’t have time to process as the door shut behind her, Aaron pressing her up against it as he kissed her.
Moans left Iriye’s mouth and found a home in Aaron’s. All the self control he held onto left as his hands went to her hips, sliding over her ass as Iriye wrapped her arms around his neck.
Chest to chest, Iriye felt their clothes were a burden. She moved to push her hands under his suit jacket until Aaron pulled away from the kiss to shrug it off.
“You look so sexy in that dress… I can’t wait to see it on the floor,” Aaron groaned. Iriye giggled as he dragged her to the bedroom, Iriye trying her best not to trip over anything.
Once inside the bedroom, lips clashed against as Iriye let her hands slide under Aaron’s shirt. He got the memo and backed Iriye to the bed until she fell into the familiar mattress. She leaned up to watch Aaron lift his shirt from his body, muscles and abs underneath the caramel skin.
“You can’t be real.” Iriye hummed, taking him in. Aaron smirked, grabbing her hand and dragging it down his abs.
“I am. All for you,” Aaron groaned, feeling her nails dragging softly against the skin. She sat up more, making quick work of his belt and unzipping his pants. The peek of his Calvin Klein boxer briefs made him even more appealing to her.
Iriye slipped her hands into Aaron’s pants, helping him get the pants and his boxer briefs down, seeing the one-eyed monster between his legs. She kept her eyes on him as she let her tongue lick at the underside of his length, a groan escaping Aaron.
Aaron’s hand slipped to Iriye’s goddess locs, seeing he was trying to regain some sense of control as Iriye worked the tip of his length into her mouth. She focused on the head, finding it was her favorite part of his length so far. She wanted to spend the night playing with it and discovering what made him tick.
“Jesus,” Aaron breathed, peering down at Iriye playing with the slit of his cock, tongue wiggling against it. She was a pro. He pulled back, watching Iriye’s mouth fall open as she moaned for more. “You look so sexy.” Aaron slid his cock against her lips and she sucked the head into her mouth playfully. “Open those pretty lips for me, baby girl,”
Iriye smiled before letting her mouth fall open, Aaron pushing his length in her mouth. She whined, relaxing as she let him fuck her mouth. One hand went to grip his ass as she encouraged him to fuck her mouth. The other one went to her dress, tugging up the skirt. She slipped her hands between her thighs, moaning around his length as she touched herself through her wet panties.
Aaron thrust a little faster into Iriye’s mouth, her gagging some. She grasped onto his ass as he pulled back, licking up to see his eyes were half hooded and his hand grasping into her hair. Iriye went deeper, seeing how much more his jaw dropped.
“Fuck…” Aaron breathed and Iriye pulled back to suck before taking him deep again, her hand moving her panties aside and slipping her fingers inside, fucking herself and moaning around him.
Iriye took him down further, gagging around his length as she relaxed, hearing Aaron praising her as she sucked him slowly. She wanted to savor him but she was fucking herself, her pussy growing wetter. She felt one of Aaron’s free hands trail down to the arm fucking herself.
“I can hear how wet that pussy is Iriye,” Aaron groaned. “Bet your fingers—- fuck—- feel so good inside. But not as good as mine.” Iriye nodded, moaning once again. She whined as he pulled back, seeing him kick off his pants. Iriye was about to take off her dress when Aaron grasped her hand, pulling it out of her panties. Her jaw dropped as he sucked her juices off of her fingers, moaning around them.
Iriye pressed her lips against Aaron’s, tasting their juices together as they kissed. His hands pushed her dress up and lifted it, leaving her in the black lacy bra and panties. Her bra was next, his hands slipping them down her shoulder as they kissed. She was bare to him except for her panties. Iriye pulled away, her staring into his darkened eyes and licking her lip.
“Aaron, I need you,” Iriye moaned as she moved her hand around his length, giggling when he groaned at her touch. “Please…”
“Please, what? Tell me what you need, love.” Aaron kissed her again.
“Aaron, please fuck me,” Iriye was helpless to her pleasure, needing him. She felt him pull away from the bed, reaching into his bedside drawer and opening a box of gold foil condoms, his length bobbing as he moved.
Aaron helped her up the bed, his fingers landing on her panties and pulling them off. Iriye moaned as he pushed her legs apart, seeing Aaron lowering to her pussy. “I need you.” She let her hands trail down his shoulders and dug into his shoulders softly.
Iriye let out a moan as he licked at her pussy, seeing her juices on Aaron’s lips.
“Please, Aaron.” Iriye begged. Aaron smirked up at her from between her legs. “Since you’re using your words,” Aaron trailed kisses up her body, her skin heating up more and more. Iriye moaned and kissed him back when he made it to her lips.
Aaron grabbed the condom, using his teeth to open it. He slipped it on as Iriye’s hand slipped to rub her clit and Aaron pushed it away. His condom covered length pushed between her lower lips, teasing her clit and a gasp came out of her. He slid his length between her lips a few more times, whines leaving her body as he teased her.
“Iriye…” Aaron groaned, sliding between her lips one more time before he grasped her cheek. “Keep your eyes on me. Let me know if you need me to stop.” Iriye nodded, her eyes locking on his. She felt him at her entrance, and he pushed in, Iriye gasping out.
Aaron could feel how warm she was through the condom, his length fitting inside of her like a glove. He had to focus as he fantasized about the moment he would feel all of Iriye wrapped around him. But his late-night and daytime thoughts were nothing compared to the reality below him, her legs beside his hip as his body pressed into hers.
Iriye tried her best not to squeeze around him, wanting to feel all of him, and she was.
“You feel so good, Aaron,” Iriye moaned, already beginning to feel intoxicated with lust. She cupped his cheek to pull him in for a kiss. “Move, please.” “Yes,” Aaron raised himself on his arms, pulling his length out before pushing back in, slow thrusts making Iriye whine. Her hands dragged from his hips to his back, nails grasping onto the caramel skin as she tried to focus on anything but Aaron taking her.
Iriye rolled her hips against Aaron, and groans fell from his lips. She could see he kept his chain on, and she leaned to kiss him. The way his eyes caught hers, the sight too much for Iriye to focus on so she kissed him, letting him swallow all the moans and gasps that came from her.
“Shit Iriye,” Aaron moaned against her lips. The moans, groans and smack of flesh meeting wet pussy filled the room.
“You’re fucking me so good,” Iriye cried out. “Harder, baby.” Aaron obliged her, hips moving deeper and faster into her. “Just like that,” Iriye’s eyes rolled into the back of her head. His hips moved into her, colliding with the flesh of her skin. Iriye wrapped her legs around his waist. Keeping him closer as he dug deeper into her.
“You like being filled like this?” Aaron breathed.
“Mhm,”
“That’s not good enough,” Aaron said, giving her a hard thrust into the fleshy spot that had a cry coming from Iriye. “Tell me. Talk to me, Iriye,” He groaned.
“It feels… it feels like you were meant to be inside me.” Iriye licked her lips, the lewd sounds of his cock moving inside of her echoed in his room.
Aaron watched her for a moment, seeing how her breasts moved with every thrust, the different sounds coming out of her as he moved a certain way. It made him want to lose it quickly, and he was okay with that as long as she came first. He could feel her walls tightening, and Iriye was getting worked up. That just made him thrust harder into her, her cries building more and more. Her pussy tightening around him as he coaxed her orgasm from her with his hard cock.
“Iriye…” He groaned, one of his hands sliding to her ass, to pull her harder into him. Her toes clenched at the feeling, liking how he was manhandling her as she grew closer.
“Don’t stop,” Iriye cried, her hand sliding down between them, her fingers finding her clit and rubbing it. Seeing her touching herself made Aaron focus on hitting her G-spot, the cries and moans between them making their breathing erratic and their movements following suit.
“Oh shit,”
“Yes! Right there,”
“Iriye!” Aaron growled into her ear as he rolled himself into her, feeling the pit in his stomach grow. His balls tightened up and he moved faster, needing her to cum first.
“Shit! Oh! Aaron,” Iriye rubbed her clit faster, cries leaving her body as his thrust becane faster. With a grasp of her ass to pull her against him, the damn broke and Iriye cried out as she came, her juices spilling and coating the condom.
Her walls tightening as she came had Aaron stuttering in a thrust before he fastened his pace once more, drawing Iriye’s orgasm out. It took him ix more wet thrust before he spilled into the condom, pulling Iriye’s hips closer to him. Iriye pressed kisses against his lips, cheeks, and shoulders, clutching onto him as they moved together, riding out their orgasms.
Their hips slowed, sweat clinging to their bodies as Aaron struggled not to suffocate her beneath the weight of his body. However, Iriye pulled him closer. Once he had regained his strength, he dragged them further up the bed. Iriye giggled as she felt his kisses all over her face before he found her lips. She moaned into his mouth as his hand rested on her stomach, and she whined. Aaron pulled out of her, and she whimpered, feeling her juices spilling out. He kissed down her body, lips moving to kiss and suck at her hard nipples.
“Aaron…” Iriye whined as she dragged her nails over his head as he kissed down. “You gotta…” She arched against him when he kissed down the softness of her bell, his tongue licking between her folds. “Let me catch my breath.”
“You got it, love.” He spread her legs over his shoulders. “Just breathe and let me taste you till you’re ready for round two.”
Iriye watched as Aaron devoured her, her night just beginning.
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chapter seven
Pairing: Aaron Pierre x Black Original Character
Warnings: Slow burn. 18+. Smut. oral (giving and receiving). sex.
Summary: Iriye and Aaron experience a night of firsts.
Notes: FLY EAGLES FLY! Also, I'm excited to finally get this one out because I figured out the ending for this series, so enjoy the ride. It's gonna have some ups and downs. Comment, like, reblog, or send me asks. I want to hear your thoughts as I love responding.
MASTERLIST
Music floated throughout Iriye’s apartment, and Mariah Carey sang about it being her night, which set the mood. She was happy it was Friday and she had a date with Aaron.
For once, Iriye wasn’t on the lot that day, as she had decided to take a me-time day. She started with some Pilates, trying to remember the last time she had been to a class. Her instructor even asked her where she had been after her workout. She then headed for a quick lunch, walked around her favorite used book store, and got her feet and nails done.
Iriye came home and read a few emails before seeing the time and figuring she should get ready. She started getting ready, spending time scrubbing down in the shower. She exited the shower and moisturized, moving on to her skincare. After feeling refreshed, Iriye went to the closet to see what she had to wear.
As Iriye pondered an ankle-length dress, she heard her phone ring and grabbed it. She smiled as she saw who it was.
“How’s my favorite child?” The smooth voice flowed from the phone, Iriye seeing her mother on the screen.
“Mommy, I’m your only child,” Iriye chuckled.
“Same difference,” Eve, Iriye’s mother, stated. “Oh, you got the silk robe we took from the spa day we had. Where you heading out to?”
Iriye bit her lip as she shook her head. That day with her mom had been a trip.
“Who says I’m going out?” Iriye asked.
“You are shea buttered down my dear. You learned that from me. Do you have a date?” Iriye could hear the smile in her mom’s voice.
“Yes,” Iriye said as she sat on her bed, phone in hand. “I’ve been sort of seeing someone.”
“And by seeing someone, you mean having protected sex?” Eve inquired.
“Mom!” Iriye shook her head at her mother. “We are too close.”
“We raised each other practically,” Eve said. Iriye’s mom was merely twenty-two years old when she found out she was pregnant. But her mom was always too cool, even if she knew when to lay down the law. “You’re my grown daughter. I know you be having sex,”
“We haven’t gotten to know each other that biblically,” Iriye stated. “But he’s different than any man I’ve been interested in before.”
“How so?” Iriye picked at a thread on her cover.
“He’s so… authentically himself,” Iriye admitted. “I think sometimes he looks at me with rose-colored glasses.”
“And what’s wrong with that, sweetie?” Eve asked. Iriye sighed.
“Because what happens when he takes them off and sees me? Sees the good and the bad and the ugly,” Iriye admitted.
“Then you see if he likes what he sees or runs away,” Eve declared. “Not every man is like Jay,” Iriye sighed as she thought of Jay.
“You know he still calls Tamara,” Iriye mentioned. “I can’t fault her. They became great friends through me. But it still hurts. I feel like if I just… was a little more bending and willing to shine more-”
“Some men are just not built for women like you. Women like us. Their loss.” Eve shrugged after interrupting her. “You are so beautiful, intelligent, and talented. If a man can’t see that and step out of the way to let you shine, they don’t even deserve to be in your rays or your shadow.”
“I love you so much, Mommy,” Iriye said, trying not to get teary-eyed. It was blunt and straight to the point, but it was the truth served straight up. No chaser needed.
“Now wipe your tears and show me what you’re wearing. Because I know you took my favorite sweater dress, and I will get it back when I come out to visit,” Eve declared. Iriye got up and went to her closet, showing her options to her mother and purposefully skipping over the things she took from her.
Iriye was trying to clasp her bracelet when she heard a knock at the door. She headed out of her bathroom, looking through the peephole and saw Aaron crouching in it. She smiled softly as she opened the door, stepping back to usher him in as she tried to clasp the bracelet.
“Come in. I’m almost ready,” Iriye spoke, still struggling with the bracelet.
“Here,” Aaron shut the door behind him and approached her. “Let me help you,” Iriye tried again, huffing as she didn’t get it. She held her arm, clutching the bracelet in her hand. Aaron reached forward to find the clasp, his fingers gentle against her skin. He concentrated and finally got the clasp, Iriye smiling warmly.
“Thank you,” Iriye kissed him softly, Aaron smiling against her lips. “Hi,”
“Hello,” Aaron’s arms slipped around her waist. “You look-” He pulled back to take her in, his gaze sending a shiver down her spine. “I think there’s not enough words in my vocabulary that can describe how good you look,”
“Maybe I can help you figure some out. You know… since I’m a writer and all,” Iriye winked. Aaron pulled her back in for a deeper kiss. “Don’t we have dinner plans?” She asked against his lips.
“We do,” Aaron said between kisses before pulling back, his hands smoothing down to her waist. “You look so beautiful, love.”
“Thank you.” Iriye pulled away and grabbed her purse. “Lead the way.”
Aaron and Iriye drove in comfortable silence, mixed with pleasantries and an impromptu sing-along to a Sade song they both loved. As they got closer to the heart of downtown LA, she watched as Aaron navigated the streets, and soon, they entered a parking structure.
Aaron got out once they were parked and headed for her door, opening it for her. Iriye let Aaron help her out of the car, and she adjusted her dress. His hand slipped into hers, the tingles shooting up her arm every time they touched. Once they got to the elevator, Aaron pressed the button for the rooftop, and Iriye eyed him for a moment, him catching her eye.
“What’s on your mind?” Aaron asked, his smooth voice falling on her ears.
“The rooftop?” Iriye stated.
“You’ll see,” Aaron said, kissing her hand. She leaned into him softly, watching the numbers tick off as the elevator rose. Once the elevator stopped and opened, Aaron led her out to a hallway with a frosted glass door. They walked down to the door and Aaron held the door open for her
Iriye took in the rooftop, seeing it was an intimate restaurant. Some were seated inside the glass space and others were further outside on the balcony.
“Aaron, this place looks incredible,” Iriye said, turning to see him taking in her reaction.
“I’m happy to hear that, love,” Aaron stated. A hostess came up and led them over to a table outside. Aaron pulled her chair out for her, waiting till she was sat and comfortable before moving to his.
“Where did you find this spot?” Iriye asked, grabbing the menu so she could look at what she wanted.
“A friend I made while working manages it,” Aaron stated. “And the food is amazing.”
“Look how connected you are.” Iriye looked over the menu and saw what she was thinking about for appetizers. The waiter came over to bring them water and take their drink orders. Iriye was taken in by how the sun set and the night came alive in LA. “I love this view.”
“Me too,” Aaron said as he took Iriye in. Words couldn’t even describe how beautiful she looked. Her eyes met his, and a heat came across his skin.
“Stop it,” Iriye felt her cheeks warming up, the pit in her stomach clenching as she took in him looking at her. “You look very handsome yourself.” “I clean up nicely after a long day,” Aaron chuckled, sipping his water.
“Tell me about your day,” Iriye asked. Aaron raised an eyebrow, which she returned with one of her own. “Please,”
Aaron regaled Iriye with stories of set life, how he was faring with his co-stars for the show, and how he was making friends with the crew. He talked about how the craft team had given him a few snacks that he liked, even though he was trying to stay in shape while filming Lanterns. She found it refreshing.
“I really am fortunate to get to do what I love,” Aaron admitted after the waiter took their order for shared appetizers. Iriye took a sip of her drink that was brought over, humming at the fruity cocktail as she listened.
“You know you’re a rarity, right?” Iriye said. Aaron furrowed her brows. “This business has a way of jading people as they climb upwards and onwards. I’ve worked with a few people at different levels and rarely meet people who genuinely love what they’re doing. Who are grateful,”
“That makes me unique?” Blueish grey eyes stared into her soul, and Iriye had to focus.
“It does to me. No matter how big you get, you’re just you. Just Aaron,” Iriye shrugged, taking another drink. “I like that.”
“I’m glad you do.” Aaron took a sip of his drink. “What about yourself?”
“What about me?”
“Do you love what you do? Writing scripts and scenes for unique people like me to act out,” Aaron rattled out. Iriye took a moment to think.
“It’s a love and hate relationship,” Iriye admitted. “There was a time I hated it—four years into living here. I was working as an assistant for an executive. It felt like they were doing everything possible to make me hate my job. Took so much of my sanity. But I was determined to stick it out. And a year and a half later, I proved myself. She said I could be just like her and take her job. That day, I decided to find another job. Anything. I put my notice in and helped train my replacement when I hired them. I worked at a youth center afterward, trying to find peace of mind. During that time, I found happiness in writing about what I could and wanted. Doing Uber Eats and the odd set job. I never wanted to be that… miserable ever again working a nine to five to make someone else feel important.”
“Are you miserable now? Working on Paradise Lost and all?” Aaron asked.
“Not at all. Everything I worked so hard for is coming to fruition.” Iriye stated. “I’m doing what I love with people who love it just as me,” She admitted. A smile took over Aaron’s face as he reached for her hand, stroking it softly when she put it in his hand.
Appetizers came and went, and Aaron’s friend Troy brought the main courses and two drinks. Iriye was intrigued as Aaron and Troy made quick conversation, retelling how they met.
“Never met a more encouraging spotter,” Troy admitted. Aaron crossed his arms over his chest in thank you.
“Anytime, brother.” Troy and Aaron hugged each other up before Troy shook Iriye’s hand in parting.
The conversation over their main course was pleasant. Iriye learned more about how Aaron was the oldest and how he was close to his siblings and family. How he talked about them made her wish she had someone to share the times growing up.
“I feel like I’ve talked too much,” Aaron stated, Iriye picking off his plate since he hadn’t denied her the first time she did.
“Not at all. I find people with siblings interesting.” Iriye shrugged. “I’m an only child.”
“Your parents were one and done?”
“It was just my mom and I.” Iriye took a bite of his food, chewing and swallowing.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Iriye raised her eyebrow at Aaron. “About your father,”
“I’m not,” Iriye stated. “He left when I was eleven. And honestly, it was probably for the best. My mom and I were better off without him.” She said pointedly.
“How so?” Aaron asked her, his eyes searching hers for a truth. Iriye had to look down at her plate, feeling like she was growing harsh with the mention of her father.
“I… I’m not ready to talk about that,” Iriye simply said. She could see that look in his eyes—the one to dig deeper. “I just feel like it’ll ruin the night.”
“It won’t,” Aaron assured her.
“For me, it will.” Iriye wasn’t sure if she was ready to let Aaron know how she felt about the man responsible for half of who she was.
“I’m not going to pressure you,” Aaron said. “But just know, I’m ready whenever you are,” Iriye relaxed in her chair, those words washing over her. No pressure. Just patience.
“Thank you.”
By the time the check arrived, anticipation was the name of the game. Iriye was sipping her water, as Aaron had asked.
“I don’t want you falling asleep on me,” Aaron teased, Iriye watching as he wrote his signature. Iriye playfully let her heeled foot slide against the inside of his leg, watching as he stopped writing for a moment.
“Focus,” Iriye spoke, taking another sip of her water. Not even its coldness could calm the heat burning through her.
“You’re playing a dangerous game, Iriye.” Aaron felt her foot gently stroking his leg.
“It’s not a bad thing if we both win.” Iriye placed the cup down. “Yours or mine?”
“What are you asking, love?”
“Your place or mine,” Iriye raised a brow. Aaron put his card back in his wallet before sipping his water. Iriye raised her foot high along his leg. She was just so close when-
“You’re something else, Iriye Edwards,” Aaron had her ankle in one hand.
“What can I say? I know what I want. What do you want?” Iriye asked. She felt his fingers rolling her ankle softly in his hands. Aaron licked his bottom lip, those eyes of his growing darker.
“What I want… is to know how you look lying spread out on my bed,” Aaron breathed. Those words made Iriye take a deep breath, unable to break eye contact with him.
“That’s someth-”
“I’m not done,” Aaron interrupted. Iriye shut her mouth quickly, hoping no one else focused on them. “I want to be inside of you every way I can. See how you look when you give in to the pleasure I can bring you, Iriye.” Iriye caught the Jamaican twang at the end of his words and felt the anticipation roll up her back. “Smell your scent on my sheets, even after you leave. Is that something you want?”
“Yes,” Iriye breathed. Aaron smiled.
“Then let’s go,”
Iriye was buzzing as Aaron led her out of the restaurant and back to his car, her clutching onto his arm. It was the comfortable silence, fueled with the thrumming of her heart as she was mentally preparing for what was to come.
But all of it was thrown to the wind once they reached Aaron’s apartment and entered. Iriye didn’t have time to process as the door shut behind her, Aaron pressing her up against it as he kissed her.
Moans left Iriye’s mouth and found a home in Aaron’s. All the self control he held onto left as his hands went to her hips, sliding over her ass as Iriye wrapped her arms around his neck.
Chest to chest, Iriye felt their clothes were a burden. She moved to push her hands under his suit jacket until Aaron pulled away from the kiss to shrug it off.
“You look so sexy in that dress… I can’t wait to see it on the floor,” Aaron groaned. Iriye giggled as he dragged her to the bedroom, Iriye trying her best not to trip over anything.
Once inside the bedroom, lips clashed against as Iriye let her hands slide under Aaron’s shirt. He got the memo and backed Iriye to the bed until she fell into the familiar mattress. She leaned up to watch Aaron lift his shirt from his body, muscles and abs underneath the caramel skin.
“You can’t be real.” Iriye hummed, taking him in. Aaron smirked, grabbing her hand and dragging it down his abs.
“I am. All for you,” Aaron groaned, feeling her nails dragging softly against the skin. She sat up more, making quick work of his belt and unzipping his pants. The peek of his Calvin Klein boxer briefs made him even more appealing to her.
Iriye slipped her hands into Aaron’s pants, helping him get the pants and his boxer briefs down, seeing the one-eyed monster between his legs. She kept her eyes on him as she let her tongue lick at the underside of his length, a groan escaping Aaron.
Aaron’s hand slipped to Iriye’s goddess locs, seeing he was trying to regain some sense of control as Iriye worked the tip of his length into her mouth. She focused on the head, finding it was her favorite part of his length so far. She wanted to spend the night playing with it and discovering what made him tick.
“Jesus,” Aaron breathed, peering down at Iriye playing with the slit of his cock, tongue wiggling against it. She was a pro. He pulled back, watching Iriye’s mouth fall open as she moaned for more. “You look so sexy.” Aaron slid his cock against her lips and she sucked the head into her mouth playfully. “Open those pretty lips for me, baby girl,”
Iriye smiled before letting her mouth fall open, Aaron pushing his length in her mouth. She whined, relaxing as she let him fuck her mouth. One hand went to grip his ass as she encouraged him to fuck her mouth. The other one went to her dress, tugging up the skirt. She slipped her hands between her thighs, moaning around his length as she touched herself through her wet panties.
Aaron thrust a little faster into Iriye’s mouth, her gagging some. She grasped onto his ass as he pulled back, licking up to see his eyes were half hooded and his hand grasping into her hair. Iriye went deeper, seeing how much more his jaw dropped.
“Fuck…” Aaron breathed and Iriye pulled back to suck before taking him deep again, her hand moving her panties aside and slipping her fingers inside, fucking herself and moaning around him.
Iriye took him down further, gagging around his length as she relaxed, hearing Aaron praising her as she sucked him slowly. She wanted to savor him but she was fucking herself, her pussy growing wetter. She felt one of Aaron’s free hands trail down to the arm fucking herself.
“I can hear how wet that pussy is Iriye,” Aaron groaned. “Bet your fingers—- fuck—- feel so good inside. But not as good as mine.” Iriye nodded, moaning once again. She whined as he pulled back, seeing him kick off his pants. Iriye was about to take off her dress when Aaron grasped her hand, pulling it out of her panties. Her jaw dropped as he sucked her juices off of her fingers, moaning around them.
Iriye pressed her lips against Aaron’s, tasting their juices together as they kissed. His hands pushed her dress up and lifted it, leaving her in the black lacy bra and panties. Her bra was next, his hands slipping them down her shoulder as they kissed. She was bare to him except for her panties. Iriye pulled away, her staring into his darkened eyes and licking her lip.
“Aaron, I need you,” Iriye moaned as she moved her hand around his length, giggling when he groaned at her touch. “Please…”
“Please, what? Tell me what you need, love.” Aaron kissed her again.
“Aaron, please fuck me,” Iriye was helpless to her pleasure, needing him. She felt him pull away from the bed, reaching into his bedside drawer and opening a box of gold foil condoms, his length bobbing as he moved.
Aaron helped her up the bed, his fingers landing on her panties and pulling them off. Iriye moaned as he pushed her legs apart, seeing Aaron lowering to her pussy. “I need you.” She let her hands trail down his shoulders and dug into his shoulders softly.
Iriye let out a moan as he licked at her pussy, seeing her juices on Aaron’s lips.
“Please, Aaron.” Iriye begged. Aaron smirked up at her from between her legs. “Since you’re using your words,” Aaron trailed kisses up her body, her skin heating up more and more. Iriye moaned and kissed him back when he made it to her lips.
Aaron grabbed the condom, using his teeth to open it. He slipped it on as Iriye’s hand slipped to rub her clit and Aaron pushed it away. His condom covered length pushed between her lower lips, teasing her clit and a gasp came out of her. He slid his length between her lips a few more times, whines leaving her body as he teased her.
“Iriye…” Aaron groaned, sliding between her lips one more time before he grasped her cheek. “Keep your eyes on me. Let me know if you need me to stop.” Iriye nodded, her eyes locking on his. She felt him at her entrance, and he pushed in, Iriye gasping out.
Aaron could feel how warm she was through the condom, his length fitting inside of her like a glove. He had to focus as he fantasized about the moment he would feel all of Iriye wrapped around him. But his late-night and daytime thoughts were nothing compared to the reality below him, her legs beside his hip as his body pressed into hers.
Iriye tried her best not to squeeze around him, wanting to feel all of him, and she was.
“You feel so good, Aaron,” Iriye moaned, already beginning to feel intoxicated with lust. She cupped his cheek to pull him in for a kiss. “Move, please.” “Yes,” Aaron raised himself on his arms, pulling his length out before pushing back in, slow thrusts making Iriye whine. Her hands dragged from his hips to his back, nails grasping onto the caramel skin as she tried to focus on anything but Aaron taking her.
Iriye rolled her hips against Aaron, and groans fell from his lips. She could see he kept his chain on, and she leaned to kiss him. The way his eyes caught hers, the sight too much for Iriye to focus on so she kissed him, letting him swallow all the moans and gasps that came from her.
“Shit Iriye,” Aaron moaned against her lips. The moans, groans and smack of flesh meeting wet pussy filled the room.
“You’re fucking me so good,” Iriye cried out. “Harder, baby.” Aaron obliged her, hips moving deeper and faster into her. “Just like that,” Iriye’s eyes rolled into the back of her head. His hips moved into her, colliding with the flesh of her skin. Iriye wrapped her legs around his waist. Keeping him closer as he dug deeper into her.
“You like being filled like this?” Aaron breathed.
“Mhm,”
“That’s not good enough,” Aaron said, giving her a hard thrust into the fleshy spot that had a cry coming from Iriye. “Tell me. Talk to me, Iriye,” He groaned.
“It feels… it feels like you were meant to be inside me.” Iriye licked her lips, the lewd sounds of his cock moving inside of her echoed in his room.
Aaron watched her for a moment, seeing how her breasts moved with every thrust, the different sounds coming out of her as he moved a certain way. It made him want to lose it quickly, and he was okay with that as long as she came first. He could feel her walls tightening, and Iriye was getting worked up. That just made him thrust harder into her, her cries building more and more. Her pussy tightening around him as he coaxed her orgasm from her with his hard cock.
“Iriye…” He groaned, one of his hands sliding to her ass, to pull her harder into him. Her toes clenched at the feeling, liking how he was manhandling her as she grew closer.
“Don’t stop,” Iriye cried, her hand sliding down between them, her fingers finding her clit and rubbing it. Seeing her touching herself made Aaron focus on hitting her G-spot, the cries and moans between them making their breathing erratic and their movements following suit.
“Oh shit,”
“Yes! Right there,”
“Iriye!” Aaron growled into her ear as he rolled himself into her, feeling the pit in his stomach grow. His balls tightened up and he moved faster, needing her to cum first.
“Shit! Oh! Aaron,” Iriye rubbed her clit faster, cries leaving her body as his thrust becane faster. With a grasp of her ass to pull her against him, the damn broke and Iriye cried out as she came, her juices spilling and coating the condom.
Her walls tightening as she came had Aaron stuttering in a thrust before he fastened his pace once more, drawing Iriye’s orgasm out. It took him ix more wet thrust before he spilled into the condom, pulling Iriye’s hips closer to him. Iriye pressed kisses against his lips, cheeks, and shoulders, clutching onto him as they moved together, riding out their orgasms.
Their hips slowed, sweat clinging to their bodies as Aaron struggled not to suffocate her beneath the weight of his body. However, Iriye pulled him closer. Once he had regained his strength, he dragged them further up the bed. Iriye giggled as she felt his kisses all over her face before he found her lips. She moaned into his mouth as his hand rested on her stomach, and she whined. Aaron pulled out of her, and she whimpered, feeling her juices spilling out. He kissed down her body, lips moving to kiss and suck at her hard nipples.
“Aaron…” Iriye whined as she dragged her nails over his head as he kissed down. “You gotta…” She arched against him when he kissed down the softness of her bell, his tongue licking between her folds. “Let me catch my breath.”
“You got it, love.” He spread her legs over his shoulders. “Just breathe and let me taste you till you’re ready for round two.”
Iriye watched as Aaron devoured her, her night just beginning.
@wildwomanalereyia @teenage-aria @skvrpion @absentmindeddreamer @blackpinup22 @liv10002 @styleismyaddiction @jungwonsgfs @hooliemooliedonutshawp @hippiesandpeacesigns @blowmymbackout @justagirlwho-believes13 @caribbeangyalsworld @melovedorks @moihasarrived @ashanti-notthesinger @xx-mintyxx @iluvchrisbrown @ash-ketchumzzz @deijalee @pyramidlight @xosharieee @kaylaahisthebestest- @chaniceandrea @kimmivlixx @saveadanc @kaylalb @queenbritbrat @kceeee @naughtynolly-blog @myawesome56 @chainingxday @nononoks-blog @kinginwithbreezy-blog @apple123cg @jazziejax @lauren1000000 @withoutmusiclifewouldbflat @venusincleo @loveschrisbrown20 @brwnskingirlll @iamfredtina @cozyashhh @modelmemoirs @kimiasinterlude @rpayn22 @mscarter123 @lolola22267 @thesweetestdrug @valarghoulis @nyifly22 @zimsilandela @teheeboo @blveeeeeee @5starsirl @yassbishimvintage @23jammy @prettiegal @vadeadiugularis @gabbywontlose @pinkkycherrish @slashervalley @aqueenwasmadehere @lee-jennie @wuzzzgoood
#aaron pierre#aaron pierre fanfic#aaron pierre fic#terry richmond smut#aaron pierre smut#terry richmond fanfic#terry richmond fic
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A Black QB with his Black wife won tonight. Fuck it. I'm gonna finish chapter 7 tonight!
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How most of the actor and his muse is being written
"you're the writer, you control how the story goes" no not really. i wrote the first sentence and then my characters said "WE WILL TAKE IT FROM HERE" and promptly swerved into an electrical fence.
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Crimson Obsessions | A Terry Richmond Vampire Series




pairing: Aaron Pierre as Terry Richmond x Justine Skye as Camille DeWaterson
summary: The usually reserved and responsible Camille DeWaterson celebrates her sister's final moments as a free woman in the streets of New Orleans . After stumbling into a club that promised temptation and decadence, she’s drawn into the clutches of a true predator who wants more than a simple dance. Terry Richmond, a vampire with unimaginable power and connections, has used his club to draw in unsuspecting victims for decades. But when he gazes upon Camille DeWaterson, an obsession immediately begins. And he doesn’t want to just feed and fuck. He desires something much more sacred and permanent.
warnings: 18+, dark romance, obsessiveness/possessiveness, mentions of drugs (weed) and alcohol, intoxication, mentions of sexual acts, graphic violence, AAVE, light smut? (dry humping)
word count: 7,258
glossary:
Indulgences: human beings that vampires deem romantically and sexually desirable
The Veil: the dark magic that enhances supernaturals’ ability to manipulate the human world
Ambrosia: an aphrodisiac and euphoric substance that makes humans more open to the propositions of supernaturals
Camille's song: Drugs-UPSAHL | Terry's song: She-Tyler, The Creator
Pt. One
Camille
Camille DeWaterson was beginning to have doubts about letting loose for her sister’s bachelorette party. As she looked at the lacy outfit her sister demanded she wear, Camille inwardly groaned, thinking that nothing good would come from tonight. Just as Camille was about to step away from the full length mirror, her sister came behind her and looked at her through the mirror with big, drunken puppy dog eyes.
“Pleaseeee, CamCam,” Chloe DeWaterson slurred, snaking her arms around her sister’s waist. “Remember, you promised me.” Camille sighed. She did promise her sister that she would leave her responsible, goodie-two-shoes nature in Houston so she could fully enjoy the revelry of their seven days in New Orleans. For the first two days, she had been able to unwind during the spa trip, the wine tasting, and the afternoon tea. But as the girls’ night approached, her relaxed attitude began to fade.
As the eldest daughter of the DeWaterson family, Camille was raised with one clear expectation: perfection. Her father drilled into her the importance of a flawless social image, and to earn his approval, she shaped her life around his vision of what was best for her. As a top student at her prestigious boarding school in Virginia, Camille had secretly longed to attend the charter school back in her Georgia hometown. She enrolled at the University of Texas to be closer to the boy her father had chosen as her future husband, despite begging him for permission to attend Spelman. Camille dutifully attended social events alongside other women, all of them under pressure to climb the social ladder—though those gatherings often left her with little time for the friends who truly understood her. Since she could remember, Camille had been striving to uphold her Black American Princess image, a role she knew all too well but one that often left her feeling unfulfilled.
In contrast, her sister Chloe was constantly rebelling. She dropped out of Dartmouth to pursue fashion school in New York City, ran off to Los Angeles to live with her ex-boyfriend, and once stripped naked and leapt into a fountain at a charity event their mother had organized. Chloe embodied the essence of a free spirit, her laissez-faire attitude both something Camille admired and envied. Yet, despite her rebelliousness, Chloe still allowed their father to shape the most important aspects of her life—including her marriage. In an effort to refine her image, Colin DeWaterson Sr. orchestrated his daughter’s marriage to Simon Chazal, a longtime family friend. He argued it would offer Chloe the stability she needed, while also providing him the coveted connection to a wealthy Creole family—something he’d been angling for since moving the family to New Orleans when Camille was a sophomore in high school.
Although Chloe fussed for months about the arrangement, she eventually agreed once Simon voiced his true feelings for her. Chloe didn’t feel the same romantically, but she deeply cared for the man who was one of her closest childhood friends. She knew he would never hurt her, and he always supported her creative outlets. Besides, denying the union would put Chloe’s inheritance in jeopardy. And even though she was doing more than fine financially with her clothing line and YouTube channel, she had grown accustomed to a lifestyle that only a DeWaterson fortune could support.
So, she was getting married in two days to a man she didn’t love in the middle of her 20s. Although she had accepted her fate, she wasn’t going down without a fight. Chloe was determined to have a bachelorette party that she would never forget.
Full of decadence, empty of decorum.
And to make that happen, she made her good girl older sister promise to do everything she said. Which is why Camille was wearing a racy black catsuit that could double as a mosquito net.
“You look sooooo sexy, CamCam,” her sister continued, rubbing her cheek on Camille’s shoulder. Camille’s face grew hot as she stared at her reflection. She couldn’t deny that she looked like she had stepped out of a man’s fantasy. But how could she focus on the group’s wellbeing and make sure no one wandered off if she was constantly getting approached, which her outfit would no doubt cause. She looked around the room at the group of women who ranged in age from 24 to 27, carelessly pouring dark liquors down their throats and passing a perfectly rolled blunt between each other. As the 29 year-old, Camille felt compelled to be the protective, sober one for the night. The mom.
As if reading her mind, Chloe spun Camille around to face her. “Cam, I’m serious. You never get the chance to let go. Please just be tonight. We’re all grown. We’re not your responsibility.” Before Camille could protest, the rest of the bridal party chimed in with a variety of agreements, the loudest of which came from Camille’s best friend, Kali.
“Cammie baby, pleaseeeee throw that good girl shit out of the window. We love you for it, but it’s time for a break, sweetheart,” she exclaimed, passing her a shot of Don Julio. Camille took the small glass, feeling the weight of the expectant eyes watching her. Fuck it. When was the last time she was able to get drunk with her girls? In her picture perfect life, these opportunities didn’t come around often. So Camille took a deep breath and downed the shot, leading to an echo of cheers from the rest of the women in the room. Kali proceeded to pour chaser in her mouth as Chloe giggled in her ear. “Who knows, maybe you’ll meet a big, strong man you can ride. All. Night. Long.” Camille chuckled, playfully nudging her sister. She held up her left hand and shoved the heavy engagement ring in her sister’s face. “I’m pretty sure this���ll keep all the big, strong men away from me,” she fired back.
Chloe grinned, showing off an equally impressive engagement ring. “Well I guess I have to take this off because there’s no way I’m not getting any dick tonight.” Camille gasped while her sister just laughed, pulling her out of the room, the group making their way to their Uber Black.
Three hours later, Camille drunkenly stumbled through the streets with her friends, carefree and lost in the thrill of the night. After three daiquiris and four shots, she couldn't have cared less about anything beyond the present moment. Bouncing in and out of bars and clubs, she felt like she was on cloud nine, and there was no part of her that wanted to come down anytime soon.
“Oooooo, let’s go there next!” Chloe exclaimed, pointing to a building with traditional New Orleans architecture draped in Spanish moss. At first glance, the building itself looked unassuming. But the red lights pouring through the windows and entrances hinted that it was a club. And the line of people that snaked around the block hinted that it was a really popular club. One that they couldn’t possibly pass up. Chloe and her entourage headed towards the building. But the closer Camille got, the more something felt… off. An undeniable pull, a magnetic force drawing her toward the building. She didn’t mind it, not really; she was all for making a great night even better. But the strange sensation sent a shiver down her spine, heightening her senses and making her more alert than she’d been all evening. She tried to slow her steps, to pause for a moment to gather her thoughts, but her legs moved on their own, carrying her forward like she was being guided by some invisible hand, trailing behind her sister.
Three bouncers casually stood at the entrance, ignoring the pleas and bribes of the people at the front of the line. But their heads snapped towards them when Chloe approached.
“Excuse me,” Chloe started, turning on her signature innocent and coy act. “We don’t want to be unfair to everyone who’s been waiting, but do we have to stand in such a long line?” Chloe batted her lashes up at them, smoothing her hand over her white ‘Bride’ sash. The one closest to her leaned forward with a smirk, causing a soft gasp to ripple through the entire group.

He was beyond gorgeous. Deep dark skin, sparkling white teeth, a full beard, and expensive gold jewelry. Camille knew that her sister probably experienced love at first sight.
“A lady as pretty you should never have to wait for anything, and neither should your friends,” his Southern drawl rang through the air as he stared into Chloe’s soul. “But we got rules here, baby girl.”
Chloe visibly shuddered, stepping closer to the Adonis. “What do I– I-I mean, what do we have to do to get around these rules?” Chloe panted. The bouncer exchanged a look with the two others, who watched the group intensely… almost hungrily. His eyes shifted back to Chloe’s, glinting with something mischievous. “Tariq, you got any more of them special wristbands?” The bouncer on the far left pulled a set of wristbands from his pocket. They were such a bright red, they seemed to glow in the dark. He pulled a small bundle from his pocket and handed over seven. The lead bouncer looked back at all of them, his lips turning up to show off his perfect teeth. “Now I can get y’all in here right now with these wristbands, but y’all gotta understand that they come with a lot of responsibility. These are only for the ladies that can be the life of the party. Can y’all promise that?” The women nodded eagerly, but Camille’s nod carried some hesitation. The bouncer noticed, making a mental note that he would relay to his friends who were waiting inside.
“Anything for you, daddy,” Kali said, earning a sharp glare from Chloe. All three of the bouncers laughed at Kali's bold comment. “Well since that was such a convincing yes, all I need to see is some ID and y’all can go ahead. Be sure to put them wristbands on though… wouldn’t want to miss out on free drinks and plenty of company.”
The group squealed, practically throwing their driver’s licenses at the three men. They ignored the groans of protest from the people still waiting in line as they put on the red bands. Chloe excitedly moved towards the front door, but was stopped by a strong hand softly grabbing her arm. “One more thing,” the fine ass bouncer stated coolly.
“Yea, sure. Anything…” Chloe let out in a breathy tone. The man gave her a wicked smile. “Save me a dance, baby girl.” Chloe practically turned into a puddle. A shy, smiley puddle. “Yes, sir.” Chloe giggled softly, her gaze lingering on his. That was Camille’s cue to separate the two. She could see it in her sister’s eyes. She was five seconds away from letting that man bend her over in front of everyone. And she just couldn’t let something that scandalous happen on her watch.
The group descended down a wide, dimly lit staircase, its shadowy corners tightening around Camille’s nerves. But as they stepped into the heart of the club, her breath caught in her throat. The scene that unfolded before her was nothing short of electrifying. Red lights bathed the room in a seductive glow, casting sharp contrasts against the sleek black couches and the sea of gyrating bodies that seemed to go on for forever. Couples grinded against each other, lost in the pulse of the music, while women danced on every available surface, adding to the wild, carefree atmosphere. Bottle girls weaved through the crowd, effortlessly balancing trays of shots, bottles, and sparklers, contributing to the chaotic glamour of it all. The music throbbed through the air and vibrated through the walls and floor. It was overwhelming, all-consuming, and Camille knew she'd have to shout just to make herself heard. “Damn, we should’ve started here first,” Kali yelled, doing a 360 to get a full view of the place. Camille nodded, awe slowly replacing her unease.
Suddenly, a stunning bottle girl, who seemed to appear out of thin air, stood in front of the group with a tray full of shots. “Ladies, welcome to Crimson, and thank you for being our very special guests,” she spoke, momentarily glancing at their wristbands. “Can I interest you all in free ambrosia shots?” Something was off about her smile. It seemed too… eager. The alarm bells returned for Camille. Just as she was about to politely decline and guide the group to a more tame section of the club, Kali reached out and grabbed one. She downed it before Camille could object.
“Damn, this is good as fuck! You can’t even taste anything, it’s like juice!” She gave the rest of the bridal party an encouraging smile, before turning her attention back to the smirking bottle girl. “Can I get, like, two more of those?” She asked, already reaching for the tray again. The bottle girl smiled brightly. “Absolutely! And feel free to put any empty glasses back on the tray.”
Camille noticed the way she emphasized empty as the rest of the women reached for their own shot. Chloe threw her head back in a swift motion, a shocked look passing across her face. “There’s no way there’s alcohol in these,” she giggled, placing the empty shot glass on the tray and picking up another one. “Here, Camille, try one!”
Camille almost protested, her instincts screaming to back away. The vibe of the place had her on edge, and she didn’t trust the girl handing out free shots, her smile too wide, too mischievous. But then she remembered her promise to Chloe—and she couldn’t let her down. Camille took the shot from Chloe’s hand and threw it back, hoping the act would be enough to satisfy the bottle girl and move them along. But as the liquid burned its way down, something unexpected happened. The sweet strawberry and honey taste lingered and an insatiable craving for more swept over her. Without a second thought, she grabbed the last shot on the tray and sipped it greedily, the flavors dancing on her tongue. Within moments, a wave of euphoria crashed over her, sweeping away any remaining caution. Like a freight train, the carefree attitude she'd left behind the moment she stepped into Crimson hit her again—but this time, it wasn’t just cloud nine. Instead, she soared to cloud one hundred. Whatever she just drank was far beyond ordinary alcohol. But in that instant, Camille couldn’t have cared less. The rush, the high, it was too intoxicating to question. She was going to chase it, as far and as fast as it would take her.
The cackling of her friends began to fade as a new song caught her attention. It was sultry and fast-paced, and it beckoned her to the dance floor. Her legs carried her to the center of the club, directly under its beaming red lights, giving the crowds in the balcony levels a perfect view of her. And she let herself get carried away by the music. She didn’t know how long she danced for. She just knew that her waist, her ass, and her legs moved to everything that poured out of the speakers. She felt like a butterfly flying freely, untethered. Until two large hands gripped her waist, pulling her back into a broad, warm chest and a thick, long, twitching bulge.
Terry
Terry spotted her as soon as she entered his establishment, his dick immediately standing at attention. A lace-clad goddess who decided to grace the venue with her presence. Although she was leading a group of gorgeous women, her beauty outshone them all—no contest. Not even the shorter one who shared her skin tone and some of her features that she pulled along with her. Sisters, Terry concluded. Although the smaller one, clearly a bride-to-be, was meant to be the star—draped in a form-fitting white dress, crowned with a glittering tiara and veil, Terry’s eyes could only focus on the woman guiding her through the sea of people. He leaned forward in his seat on the fourth-level balcony, subtly tapping the two women on his lap to signal for them to move. They pouted and muttered as they reluctantly stood, but Terry’s attention remained fixed, unaware of their protests. His focus was entirely on the woman below, and he couldn’t look away.
“Boss, we got a few more Indulgences coming in right now. The best group of the night. But the one in the lace might be a problem. I think she can kinda see through The Veil.”
Terry didn’t bother to respond. There was always one human who felt a little more wary when they approached Crimson, the city’s most exclusive club and a hedonistic sanctuary for the wealthiest vampires in the country. It wasn’t uncommon for humans to be drawn to the club’s magnetic pull, an irresistible force that lured them in without them even knowing why. Most would fall victim to the allure, standing in outrageously long lines for the mere chance to step inside. But then there were the others—those with a natural wariness, a sharp intuition that hinted at the dark magic just beneath the surface. They could sense something off, something they couldn’t quite put their finger on, but it was enough to make them hesitate.
In those rare cases, Terry knew exactly what to do. If they were enticing enough for his clients, he made sure they got through the door and stayed for as long as he needed them to. After getting the heads-up from Jabari, Terry had already made his move. Amber, one of his most trusted bottle girls who frequently quenched his thirsts, was dispatched with a tray of ambrosia shots, ready to meet the group of women and pull them deeper into the club’s intoxicating web. A simple push, a little encouragement.
Terry observed as the group warily watched Amber. The first one to accept her offer was a thick, lighter woman with a bob who seemed to be full of personality. One by one, they consumed the golden liquid and he watched them all fall victim to the euphoric feeling that ambrosia brings about. The beauty who caught his eye was the last one to drink after some convincing from the soon-to-be bride. She gave her a weak smile and tossed it back, momentarily exposing her slender neck. Time seemed to slow as she gulped down the liquid, her tongue absentmindedly licking the remainder from her perfectly glossed lips. Terry groaned, imagining those same glossed lips wrapped around his length, leaving stains around his dick as she gagged around him. Fat tears spilling from her big, pretty eyes as he used a fistful of her hair to keep her in place and fuck her throat.
As his latest fixation reached for another shot, this time with enthusiasm, he mentally expressed satisfaction in Jabari’s picks for the night. The whole group exceeded the standards of what an Indulgence should be. From the corner of his eyes, he could see a few of his clients watching the group, their bright red wristbands giving them the greenlight to approach them. As the best supernatural sanctuary in the country, Terry had a reputation he had to maintain. And that included keeping a steady stream of the best Indulgences walking through the doors of Crimson.
The practice of supplying Indulgences had evolved quite a bit since Terry turned hundreds of years ago. In the old days, Indulgences, the breathtaking humans that were deemed desirable enough to feed from and fuck, were a rarity. The lack of modern technology and medical care led to most humans being sickly and in a constant state of survival. Therefore, Indulgences were limited, and most were often fought over or accidentally killed. But as the standard of living increased, they became more plentiful. Vampires noticed and began to invest heavily in the wellbeing of humans. Better farming techniques, improved access to education, innovations in science and technology. All of these things were investments vampires were willing to make so their precious humans would become better off. Now, it’s gotten to the point that Indulgences could be found anywhere. But they couldn’t be approached anywhere. Humans, especially women, were particularly cautious. They often denied the company of vampires in ordinary settings, and their denials were respected under supernatural law. So vampires like Terry had to create spaces that connected Indulgences with vampires, lowered their inhibitions, and motivated them to freely offer their veins, their bodies, and their hearts.
Crimson had been known for the best Indulgences since the 1940s and tonight, Jabari ensured that the reputation continued. Terry made a mental note to reward Jabari for his good judgment. His eyes continued to follow the pretty little thing as she made her way to the dance floor, her barriers lowering with every step she took. Once she got to the center of the club, Terry knew that all supernatural eyes were on her, so he spoke telepathically.
Mine.
One word was all it took, and instantly, everyone knew she was off-limits. Terry was more than just a club co-owner. He was a king in his own right, ruling an empire of power, wealth, and influence that stretched far beyond Crimson’s doors. Decades older than any vampire in the room, his presence commanded a respect that no one dared to question. He was one of the first to utilize The Veil, the arcane system of magic that allowed supernaturals to bend the mortal world to their will. Over the course of his long life, he had slaughtered countless creatures—vampires, goblins, lycans—all without a flicker of hesitation. He was a monster in the truest sense of the word, and only a fool would dare to challenge him.
So, as his clients swarmed the other women eagerly, Terry’s word hung in the air like an impenetrable shield. She remained untouched and unbothered, and no one would dare lay a finger on her.
As the mystery woman swayed seductively to the beat, Terry began his descent to the ground level of Crimson. Humans and supernaturals alike scurried out of his way as he stalked his unsuspecting prey. Growing closer to her, he watched as she threw her arms above her head, flaunting her red wristband. He smirked, knowing she had no idea what was in store for her. He stopped behind her, taking the time to appreciate her body and inhale her scent. Her Coke bottle shape was barely covered by the black lace outfit that showed off her black thong. Intoxicating notes of vanilla, jasmine, and lavender fluttered around her, making his mouth water.
Terry gripped her waist firmly, tugging her back into his chest and her ass into his hard on, causing her to gasp softly. She paused her sexy little whining to look at Terry, craning her neck to get a good view of his 6’3 frame. He smirked as her jaw dropped as she examined his face. Still in a euphoric haze, her eyes began to swirl with lust, awe, and need. Terry grinned down at her, wrapping his arms around her even tighter. She whimpered lightly, rubbing her ass against his print, causing a deep rumbling in his chest. He leaned down, placing his mouth next to her ear. “What’d you stop for, princess? You were giving me such a nice show,” he purred, licking the shell of her ear. A moan passed her pretty ass lips and her head lolled to the side, giving Terry full access to her neck. He chuckled, watching the light thump of her jugular under her skin.
“Come on, baby girl,” he groaned, tracing the major vein with his tongue. “I came all the way downstairs to dance with you, don’t stop now.” She giggled sweetly, looking back at him with a naughty glint in her eye. Then, she began to work her magic. Bending over and placing her hands on her thighs, she expertly rolled her hips to the music, grinding her plump ass further into his dick. Terry bit his lip at the sight, matching her sensual movements, the world disappearing around them. To Terry, it was only him and her left in existence. Twisting, grinding, and rolling against each other. As the song came to an end, she rose to lean back against him, peering at him over her shoulder. Terry decided that he let her have enough fun taking the lead. He had to show her he was a man of control. He spun her around to face him, pulling her dangerously close to him.
She gulped as he pressed the entirety of his covered length against her torso. Gripping her ass, he captured her mouth in a dominating kiss.
Camille
Camille’s breath hitched as the unreal stranger placed a heated kiss against her lips, slipping his tongue into her mouth. If she were sober, she wouldn’t believe that she was making out with a random man whose name she didn’t even know. Especially a random man that looked like him. His broad, muscular frame loomed over her effortlessly, even with the four-inch heels adding height to her 5'7" stature. Dressed in sleek black slacks and a casual sweater, his ensemble was effortlessly cool, paired with two gold chains that gave him a smooth, 90s vibe. The combination of his honey-brown skin and understated wealth gave him an undeniable magnetism. The sweet, woody scent of his cologne washed over her senses, an intoxicating blend that mirrored the raw masculinity oozing from him. His dark hair was pulled back into neat cornrows, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw and the meticulously groomed facial hair that framed it. His full, luscious lips curled into a smile—slow, deliberate, and full of promise. And then there were his eyes. Those eyes. They were the kind that could pull you deeper under his spell with every glance. They promised nothing but a night fulfilling her most carnal desires.
A man this handsome could only be the devil.
His hands moved from her ass to her thighs as he effortlessly picked her up and wrapped her legs around his waist, their kiss never breaking. His tongue mercilessly sucked on hers, making her breathless and delirious. Camille tried her best to keep up with the man but he was insatiable. His lips skillfully moved over hers, making her eyes droop and heat pool in her most intimate areas. There was nothing she could do but submit to him and his passion. So she wrapped her arms around his neck and let him lead the head-spinning exchange, which pulled the most lewd sounds from the back of her throat. He shifted her slightly in his arms, making his dick rub directly against her throbbing clit. “Fuck,” she yelped, throwing her head back at the burst of pleasure the movement gave her. The stranger didn’t stop his onslaught of kisses, his mouth nipping and sucking at her jaw, her neck, and her collarbone, continuing to grind his pelvis into hers. Camille sucked in a sharp breath, feeling a delicious tension build in her pussy. The man’s hands gripped further into her flesh and he chuckled in her ear. “If you keep making those pretty little sounds, I’m gonna make you nut on this dick all fucking night,” he growled before he shoved his tongue back into her mouth. His raunchy promise and dominating tongue sent Camille toppling over the edge. With a pathetic, needy moan into his mouth, she shuddered in his arms, a blinding orgasm rippling through her body.
He pulled away from her, watching as she convulsed in his arms. His eyes, which seemed to shift between steel blue and hazel green, stared directly into her soul, making another pitiful moan pass through her lips. As she slowly descended from her high, their gazes locked, their breath heavy and unsteady. In that moment, something passed between them. Something unspoken, something more profound than lust or two horny bodies grinding on a dancefloor. It was an electric undercurrent, too elusive to define, but too powerful to ignore. Was it tenderness? Devotion? Whatever it was, Camille felt it course through her like wildfire, a quiet intensity that seemed to vibrate in the air around them. And from the heat in his eyes, she knew he felt it too. That look, their connection—intense, undeniable—was all it took to jolt her back to reality.
This has gone way too far, Camille thought. She shook her head lightly, trying to break herself out of the trance she was under. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered to the gorgeous man she was clinging to. His eyebrows furrowed, his grip tightening as she attempted to get out of his hold.
“Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt you?” His deep, rich voice asked her sincerely and she blinked slowly as her pussy throbbed, begging to be stuffed by the hard on that was still pressed into her crotch. Fuck, this was so wrong. She was a taken woman. “No, no you didn’t do anything wrong,” she smiled down at him shyly. “It’s just that… I-I shouldn’t have done this and I don’t want it to go too far.” He laughed.
“We’re grown, baby girl. What happens beyond this stays between us.” He stated, placing an open-mouthed kiss on her jaw, making her squirm against his bulge.
“That’s the thing,” she sighed, raising her left hand to display her ring. “An engaged woman shouldn’t have even let it get to this point.” The stranger’s hypnotizing eyes moved from hers to the band around her left ring finger, which he stared at for a second. Disappointment, and another feeling that she couldn’t place, flickered across his expression. Then his eyes shifted back to hers and he nodded in understanding, gingerly placing her back on her feet. He kept a hand on her waist, his confident smile returning. “Thanks for the dance, Ms…” his voice trailed off expectantly. Camille opened her mouth to respond, but was swiftly interrupted by her best friend’s yelling.
“Cam! Cam! Come on, we gotta go! Some weirdo tried to like, I don't know, eat Chloe!” Kali yelled frantically, tugging Camille. “What!? What are you talking about? Where is she?!” Camille ran behind Kali, completely abandoning her momentary lover. She and Kali ripped through the crowded dance floor and rushed to a set of stairs that led to the second story of the club. Chloe sat slumped against the banister, sobbing into her hands as the rest of the group and the bouncer from earlier tried to console her. “Chloe, baby are you okay?” Camille’s little sister shot up at the sound of her voice, throwing herself into her arms.
“Oh Cammie, it was awful,” she sobbed as Camille held her. “Some guy and I were dancing but he wanted me to do coke with him so I tried to get away from him. But then he started trying to fucking bite me and-and–” Chloe sobbed harder. Camille turned to the bouncer. “Where is he? Did he get away?” There’s no way the club would let him get away with something like that, right?
“No ma’am, we’ve got him in custody upstairs. He won’t be able to hurt anybody else.” He reassured Camille, but his eyes remained on Chloe.
“Cammie, I don’t want to stay here if he’s still here,” Chloe hiccuped, holding onto her sister tighter. Camille stroked her cheek, guilt consuming her. She should’ve stayed with her sister. She never should’ve wandered off! She wouldn’t have gotten hurt if she wasn’t getting tongued down by a man she just met.
“It’s okay, we don’t have to stay here any longer,” she sighed, kissing her sister's forehead. The fun, tipsy, and carefree Camille was gone. The rigid and responsible Camille returned as she ordered the rest of the bridal party to make their way to the entrance.
“Is everything alright over here?” The smooth, deep voice made Camille shiver. She knew who it belonged to immediately, but she refused to face him, embarrassed of how she behaved a few moments ago. He must've followed her when she ran with Kali. She could feel the heat rolling off of him, letting her know that he stood dangerously close to her. But she couldn’t focus on the Casanova that made her cum from simply grinding and kissing. She needed to focus on her sister.
“A patron tried to fee– bite one of the ladies in this group, boss. I rushed to help her once I heard screams. We got him upstairs,” the bouncer replied hurriedly, his eyes trained on the man behind Camille. He grunted in response.
“Ladies, I apologize for this encounter. Crimson takes great pride in vetting its patrons and it's unacceptable that a character like this slipped past us. He will be taken care of,” her mystery man spoke with authority. Camille glanced at him in shock as she rocked her sister, who was now only sniffling. Did he own this place? Who really was the man she dry fucked danced with tonight?
He gazed back at her for a moment, but turned his attention back to Chloe’s knight in shining armor. “Jabari, please escort these ladies out and ensure that we get them the best transportation back to their accommodations.” Jabari nodded, helping them get their bearings. As Camille prepared to turn on her heel, soft, thick lips quickly pressed against her cheek. “Get home safe.” The mystery man gave her one final glance before swiftly climbing the stairs. She stared after him, her heart, and her pussy, aching from the fact that she would never see him again.
Camille felt so disappointed in herself as Jabari ushered them into a sleek, black Cadillac Escalade. Her sister’s night was ruined because she slipped up and left her alone. She should’ve never let her guard down. She should’ve never taken those shots. And she definitely shouldn’t have given that man a dance. Because that’s all she could think about.
How her body molded into his. How she responded to his touch. How he gazed into her eyes. How wet she got for him. And that orgasm… she couldn’t even remember having one that good before… especially not with her fiancé. It felt as if she had found her soulmate, only to be torn away from him, her chest aching with every passing second.
Camille shook her head, a desperate attempt to clear her thoughts. She shouldn’t be thinking like this. Not with her sister’s head in her lap as their driver pulled off towards their hotel. Kali and the rest of the girls chattered quietly as Camille stroked her sister’s hair. Hopefully the one hour at Crimson didn’t overshadow the entire night for her.
Camille sighed and leaned her head against her seat’s window. I just need to get back to Houston, she thought. And then I’ll be able to forget about him and put this night behind me.
Terry
Terry’s jaw clenched as he peered out of the window, watching Jabari get the group of women into the luxury SUV. Jabari closed the front passenger door as the last one put on her seatbelt. He then jogged to the driver’s side and briefly spoke to the chauffeur. After a tap on the hood, the driver sped off in the direction of Bourbon Street. Terry stepped away from the window and turned to look at the center of the room. A man dangled from a meat hook attached to the tall ceiling, thrashing in the chains used to restrain him. Terry’s blood boiled as he watched him struggle, muffled pleas trying to pass the gag in his mouth. His face was barely recognizable, but Terry knew it was Justin Grey. The 20-something year-old son of some Hollywood executive who was turned six months ago. Terry knew he was too young and immature to behave himself around Indulgences. But his business partners thought otherwise. Justin’s $5,000,000 donation was just too enticing to pass up.
Both of Justin’s eyes were nearly swollen shut. Bruises bloomed across his face and neck. His nose was obviously broken. A gash on his cheek leaked blood onto the floor. Although the man’s vampire status would’ve dulled the pain of a human’s attempt to hurt him, the ass whooping he got from his fellow supernaturals had him writhing in agony.
Terry shook his head as he poured himself a glass of whiskey. If it wasn’t for this motherfucker, he would be in one of the private rooms upstairs with his recent dance partner, letting her ride his face and his dick until the sun rose. But no. He had to deal with this bullshit. Bullshit that ran seven perfect Indulgences out of his club. It wasn’t the end of the world, his clients would still be satisfied. There were about fifty men and women walking around Crimson with the red wristbands. Only fifteen clients were present today, so they had plenty to choose from. But he could tell that the bachelorette party was a fan favorite, since most of his clients eagerly joined to beat the man who ran them off. They circled Justin’s upside down form, waiting for Terry to give them the greenlight to finish him off.
Terry sipped the dark liquor slowly, savoring the burn in the back of his throat. He walked over to Justin and crouched down near his face. Justin took labored breaths, flinching as Terry’s hand reached for the gag in his mouth. In one fluid motion, Terry yanked the rag out of mouth, sending blood and teeth scattering across the floor. Justin cried out. Terry just stared, giving him a sarcastic smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“Friends, guests…,” Terry started as he slowly rose to his feet. “What is the single most important rule when handling Indulg–”
“Terry, man come on. I-I didn’t… I j-just got a little carried awa–” Justin began to beg.
“Shut. The Fuck. Up,” Terry gritted. No one moved, no one dared to reply, so Terry began again. “Indulgences should never… ever… be forced to do anything. No matter what. It is our responsibility to convince. To seduce. Our interactions with humans, especially Indulgences, are meant to be mutualistic. We give as much as we take. If we go around abusing them and acting entitled, we’ll eventually lose access to them. And if we lose access to them, our chances of survival get real fucking slim.”
Terry took another slow sip of whiskey, his expression calm, but his words laced with venom. Contrary to popular folklore, vampires didn’t loathe humans, they thrived on them. Humans were their life force, their source of entertainment, their companions in an otherwise meaningless existence. They brought color to the gray monotony of their extended lifetimes. Disruptions to this delicate, symbiotic bond were rare, but when they happened, they were never taken lightly. Terry and other vampires had spent centuries cultivating these relationships, and this small transgression was a threat to that hard-won balance. What made it worse was that the woman who had captured his heart was entangled in this mess. But despite the simmering rage beneath his calm exterior, he refused to let this minor setback derail his evening. He was still going to put someone through a mattress tonight, so he was going to make this quick.
Jabari walked into the room, nodding towards Terry to confirm that the women were heading back towards their hotel. He nodded back, taking a final sip of whiskey before placing the glass on a nearby surface.
“Everyone, please don’t let the foolish actions of one ruin your night. When you’re ready, return to the main area and have your fun,” Terry spoke diplomatically. Then he turned his attention to Jabari, who glared menacingly at Justin.
“Jabari,” Terry called calmly. Jabari’s eyes snapped in his direction.
“You were interested in the girl that Justin attacked, yes?” Jabari simply nodded. Terry hummed in response. “Will you do the honors and kill him? Try not to be too loud, we don’t want to disturb the rest of the club.”
Jabari grinned, shifting into his supernatural form as he stalked toward Justin.
“No, NO! Terry please, I-I-I learned my lesson! It won’t happen again!” Justin cried out as Jabari’s eyes shifted to a deep red, his canines elongating and his nails sharpening.
Terry drowned out Justin’s screams as Jabari's claws pierced his flesh, ripping him apart. He knew Jabari would finish the job right, so he made his way towards the door without looking back, pulling his business phone out of his pocket. Now that the situation was handled, his mind could return to more pressing matters. The lovely little vixen who put him under her spell in less than twenty minutes. He swiped through the electronic records that another bouncer, Tariq, sent him. They displayed copies of all of the driver’s licenses that were scanned that night. He searched through dozens of photos before he landed on one that made his heart skip a beat.
Camille DeWaterson.
04/26/1995.
Houston, Texas.
Each passing second that Terry’s eyes lingered on the photo solidified his decision. The decision he made when she had rushed off to tend to her sister now felt inevitable—he was going to pursue her with everything he had. The moment they shared on the dancefloor wasn’t just a fleeting connection; it was raw, too real to dismiss. When she had looked at him, there had been something in her gaze, something that bordered on reverence. As if he had become her anchor in a world full of uncertainty. He couldn’t shake the intensity of it, the desire to see that look again, to make her feel that way once more. And the way she came undone in his arms? It was so fucking erotic. If she writhed against him like that just from some kissing and touching, how would she act underneath him as he stretched her out. Would she scream his name? Would she beg him to let her cum? Would she wet up his sheets? He was determined to find out. And once he did, he would never let her go.
Besides, she obviously needed to be saved from her engagement. No properly satisfied woman would have acted how she did. It was practically a cry for help. A bat signal that said she needed someone to take care of her body, mind, and soul. And Terry knew he would be the best person to do so. Not the lame ass nigga she was with now.
He took a screenshot of the driver’s license and tucked the phone back into his pocket. Tomorrow, he would dig through the internet for everything linked to his new obsession. But right now, he needed to find some relief and bury himself in some pussy. He was still hard from the dance he got and Camille’s ID picture only made the tightening in his groin worse. He waved over Amber as she headed in his direction. Once she stood in front of him, he wordlessly threw her over his shoulder, hauling her upstairs towards the private rooms.
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@nayaesworld @slvt4her @writingsbytee @kaylaahisthebestest @notapradagurl7 @23jammy so sorry if I missed anyone, please comment so I can add you for next week!
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1000 words unto this new chapter but so many fics I gotta read plus I started on my first Terry Fanfic and then I started getting ideas for our favorite girl who is always at the scene of the crime in the actor and his muse. One that might involve Kelvin...

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Make Me Weak, Part 4
Pairing: Sex Therapist!Terry Richmond x Sub!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader
Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Cursing, mentions of depression, anxiety, and description of sexual issues. Power imbalance, Shy!reader. Dark!Terry. Dom!Terry, AU Terry, a whiff of angst, all consensual. Sorry if I missed some. I'm not a therapist and while I do not make light of therapy, this is purely for my own fun. Please seek real medical attention when necessary. Bad English slang. Cole's faceclaim is Tosin Cole!
Summary: You said you were committed to healing and that meant backing up what you say with action. You decide to take yourself on a little bookstore date and end up meeting the delicious Cole. When it comes time for your session with Dr. Richmond, however, you find that you're really nervous to tell him. And when you do, it has disastrous consequences.
Word Count: 5,801k
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | AO3 Link
A/N: Okay, I've been a bitch about this series and I feel bad. I never want to discourage you from asking about the series or talking to me about this series, especially newbies who just found me! Asking for updates isn't very helpful. I'm still sensitive about my shit! But I will *always* welcome fan theories, discussions, or general screaming into the void. So, because I received a sweet ask about it, enjoy this chapter! Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.
You
I am who I am and I love me.
It was silly to repeat affirmations to yourself but you found that the more that you did it, the more you genuinely began to feel better about yourself. Dr. Richmond helped you realize that it was due to your RAS - Reticular Activating System.
It acted as a filter against all the data you took in every day. Since it could only process so much, it only highlighted what was important – things you tend to focus on most. If you told yourself that you weren’t confident and your RAS would show you ways in which you weren’t confident.
But if you fed it positive things, like how you loved yourself, it tended to back that up. The outfits you chose looked good on you. The way you did your hair looked great. And over the course of the next few sessions and weeks, you began to walk with your shoulders pulled back. Chin raised high.
You were still working on it, but in conjunction with living inside your body and repeating these affirmations, you simply felt…better. Not one hundred percent healed but there was light at the end of that long, dark tunnel.
And not focusing so much on sex allowed you to explore the world a bit differently. You could look people in the eye, you could speak up a little more, and you stopped focusing so much on “the right thing”. There was no such thing as the right thing and it was high time your RAS understood that.
You took your newfound good feeling for a spin by taking yourself on a date. It was something small. You were only going to the bookstore for one book and maybe grab some coffee. It shouldn’t be a big thing, but coming from a hypervigilant family, you so rarely indulged in things for yourself guilt free.
Dr. Richmond constantly reinforced the message that you were in control. So what better way to embrace that than to go somewhere and just…be. Live in your skin and not worry about what others think.
You walked into Barnes and Noble and inhaled the sweet aroma of coffee and paper. You were home. You glanced around at the other patrons and you still felt exposed, but you had a right to be there.
The soft carpet underfoot muffled your steps as you passed by displays for Booktok books, #Girl Boss, and villain origin stories. You shook your head at the silliness. Booktok was a fuckin’ lie and none of the other books looked remotely interesting.
You walked to your favorite sci-fi and fantasy section, glancing at titles and book covers, and picked over which one you would spend the day with. There were so many colorful titles. So many authors and ideas to explore.
You ended up finding a vampire book and took it to the counter to purchase. Done, you headed over to the small cafe, the smell of coffee and pastries strong. You ordered your favorite coffee and a muffin to go with.
The tables were mostly empty, most people off at work at the moment. You had the day off, so you truly had nothing to do. And it made you feel wonderful instead of nervous. The day was yours. And it felt like yours in a way it hadn’t before you started seeing Dr. Richmond.
Before, it was like you took life as it came. Each inconvenience was like a cosmic heat seeking missile, intended to personally fuck up your day. But taking control…literally meant taking control. You did things because you wanted to. Talked to people when you wanted. And it was freeing.
You sighed as you settled at a small dark wooden table. Whatever your insurance was paying Dr. Richmond they needed to double it. Had your previous therapists been anything like him, you would have achieved an orgasm a long time ago.
It was still weird to discuss your deepest, darkest thoughts with someone who looked like him, but every session left you with a better relationship with hope. You were still nervous to completely embrace her, but you were glad to see her in the light of day for once.
You fiddled with your bottom lip as you shook off thoughts of that man and got lost in your book and snacks. The day melted away as you read and sipped coffee, stopping occasionally to snack on the muffin.
You were getting to a really good part in the book when movement in front of you made you look up. It took all your willpower not to swoon and fall off your chair.
A man stood in front of you with deep mahogany skin, a sharp long face, and a skinny frame. He held about three books in his large hands and there was something about him that screamed “grown up”. Maybe it was the way he stood or the polo and slacks combo that made him look more professional. Whatever it was, it worked.
“I’m sorry, I see you’re reading. But I had to introduce myself. Feel free to tell me to bugger off,” he said. His English accent held your body and pussy hostage as he gave you a crooked smile. Nothing at all like Dr. Richmond’s patient smirk but it was delicious all by its lonesome.
“No, no. I was about to take a break anyway,” you managed to say. Goodness he was pretty. Rich, dark skin. He sported an afro with kinked ends that really worked for him and a trim goatee. The oatmeal colored polo offset his deep skin and you found yourself squirming in your seat.
He nodded his head. “I’m Cole. I saw you held that book and I can’t find anyone else who’s read it. Do you like it so far?”
You introduced yourself and picked up the book. It was a young adult novel called Immortal Dark, a dark academia book about Black vampires. So far you were digging it and you told him as much. “Would you like to sit?”
“Aw, cheers,” he said and smiled. He had a wonderful smile and you found yourself cataloguing all the ways he ticked your boxes. He was smooth and chocolatey, definitely a plus. Had some bass in his voice like he was on his grown man thing, always a good sign. He read for fun, yes please!
Although, you couldn’t help comparing him to Dr. Richmond. He wasn’t as tall, voice not as deep, and then you mentally slapped yourself. Dr. Richmond was so far off limits, he may as well be on another planet. Cole was here, available – and more importantly – he came to you!
“I got something on my face?” Cole asked.
You giggled and shook your head. You were so nervous and giddy that your hands shook. “No! I…sorry, you don’t really seem like you’d be into a book like this,” you said.
Your biases were definitely showing. So much of reading, especially young adult books, were geared towards women. The men in your life didn’t read for fun but those who did were mostly into graphic novels or non-fiction books like Kitchen Confidential by Anthony Bourdain.
“Are you judging a book by its cover? Oh, that’s raw,” he said. He didn’t have a posh accent. He definitely had to be from the “hood” in England. You were dying to ask about it but it was probably the first thing people did. You wanted to be cool in his eyes. Aloof. A little more mysterious.
Men approached you before but this was the first time after seeing Dr. Richmond that a man made you…excited. Excited to talk and not worry about his intentions. It was so damn refreshing, you wanted to kiss Cole just for this experience. Or maybe you just wanted to kiss him. It was weird. It usually took a lot more for your defenses to lower. But sue you, you were a sucker for a good, sexy accent.
No, you stop that. No analyzing. No retreating to your head.
“No! Not like that. Like…guys don’t really share what they read so I always wondered what they gravitate to,” you said.
“I get that. No, I’m into all sorts of books. Primarily, sci-fi or psychological horror. Don’t matter the set up,” Cole explained.
“Psychological horror? For real?” You asked.
“What, you scared?” He asked, lowering his eyebrows in a quiet challenge.
“Hell yeah!” You said and giggled. “I’m a huge scaredy cat. Horror is just not my thing. A thriller, maybe. Let’s see what you picked up then.” You waved your hand towards the stack of books he had in front of him.
Cole smiled and pushed the stack towards you. “Judge away,” he said.
You smirked and picked up each book, looking through the blurbs and tried to gauge what would make him choose these books. Two sounded really interesting but the last one, you shuddered from the cover alone.
“No judging, but there’s no way in hell I’d read something like this,” you said, pointing to the third book. The cover had a creepy mix of teeth and eyeballs. You wanted no parts.
“Fair. Let’s see your list, then. You must have a Goodreads,” he said.
You took out your phone with a smile, going to your digital bookshelf. You did read mostly romance, no surprise there, but there were other books on the list that you weren’t that embarrassed about. Turnabout was only fair play.
Cole took out his own phone and you spent the rest of the afternoon comparing books on your respective shelves. There were quite a few that you had in common and you engaged in a friendly debate.
“Wait, what? Percy Jackson could dog walk Harry Potter,” you said.
“Harry literally has a wand,” Cole said as if that settled the whole debate.
“Exactly. It’s a crutch! Percy Jackson suffered no fools!” You said. “He mailed the head of Medusa to Olympus as a giant ‘fuck you’. When he was twelve!”
“After defeating Voldemort when he was eleven, Harry literally defeated a big ass snake when he was twelve. Please, have some respect for my mans,” Cole said.
You went back and forth a few more times, arguing your case. Neither of you were willing to budge and you ended up throwing up your hands. “It’s that English in you. You’re gonna cap for Harry no matter what,” you said.
“Oi, I take offense to that,” he said, adopting a thicker English accent.
You giggled and shook your head. “You are something else,” you said.
“And you’re gorgeous,” he said. A slow grin spread across his face and it made your belly flip.
You looked down at your book and fiddled with the edge of the hardcover, tips of your ears burning. “Not so bad yourself,” you said.
“Not so bad? I’m pretty alright, yeah?” He dusted off his shoulders and flexed his muscles, his bicep bulging. He was deceptively built and your eyes bugged out.
“No way!” You said. You reached out to poke his bicep; nope, totally real. You realized what you did and snatched your hand back with an apology.
Cole reached out and grabbed your hand, rubbing his thumb across your knuckles. He looked down at your combined hands and smiled. “Would it be alright if I got your number?”
You wanted to purr. The way he said “numba” just made you want to eat him up with a spoon. You nodded. It was more than alright. Your imagination tried to run wild, wondering if he could deliver what you wanted.
He was well-read, cute, and a bit goofy. He stood by his convictions and kept receipts. Could you follow his lead in the bedroom? Would your mind relax enough to orgasm with him? You didn’t want to put the cart before the horse, pulling back on hope and strapping her to a chair to take a chill pill.
You just met this man. But…it was fun to wonder.
You nodded. You swapped phones and inserted your contact information. When he received his back, he smiled at your name. Then his smile dropped. “Yo, the time! It flew talking to you,” he said, the quick grin returning.
“You stop!” You said and giggled, feeling giddy and girlish.
“You’re easy to talk to. I have to run but I wish I could stay,” he said, genuinely sounding sad that he couldn’t.
“Me too. But, you have my number. Don’t be a stranger,” you said.
“I don’t plan on it. It was really great meeting you.” Cole grabbed your hand and dropped a kiss to it like an old school gentleman. You grinned when he pulled back and your eyes met.
“It was really great meeting you. Even if you cap for Harry Potter,” you said, the gremlin in you unable to resist the dig. Something to break up the tight wire between you.
“Ah, gonna hold that against me, then?” He asked.
“I’m sorry, I must,” you said with a shrug. There was no way you would give up on your Percy, he identified as a problem.
“I’ll convince your cute ass soon,” he said.
You gaped at him as Cole winked at you. He stood up and scooped his books, giving you one last devastating smile before leaving. You covertly watched him walk away but he looked back with a wave and another sultry wink.
Be still, your heart. It was about to jump right out of your chest. You wanted to squeal and jump around like a crazy person. Instead, you immediately texted Brooklyn for an emergency phone call. This had to be discussed right this second!
And even as you collected your things and made to leave Barnes and Noble so you could talk freely, you couldn’t help feeling like you were letting Dr. Richmond down.
You
You watched Dr. Richmond as he settled into his chair on the opposite side of the coffee table. A few sessions ago, he moved from behind his desk and you appreciated the extra view. It also helped to feel like a conversation and not sitting for an interrogation.
He balanced a notebook on his lap and you had to tear your eyes away from the noticeable, heavy bulge in his pants. And that was him not erect. Lordy lordy. You wiped your hands on your jeggings.
“Alright, time for a check in. Did you do your homework?” He asked, his deep baritone caressing your ears. He could read a phone book and you would absolutely melt. But that wasn’t why you were here.
You nodded and opened your journal, flipping to the latest entries. You skimmed over your bullet points, trying to find the train of thought that led you to your notes.
“Okay, so, it is like..beyond fucking hard to be assertive!” You started.
Dr. Richmond chuckled but he motioned for you to expand on it. “I guess I was always taught to shut the hell up and let others speak. And when I tried speaking up, people thought I was playing or didn’t take me seriously so I learned to keep that shit to myself. Hence, why my head so big,” you said.
Dr. Richmond chuckled again and shook his head. “Keeping things bottled up just makes it explode later down the line,” he said.
You nodded. “Exactly why people say I got an attitude problem. Like, people see me blowing up out of nowhere but not what leads to it. And my commitment to keeping the peace just made me miserable. I still have some trouble, I keep thinking no one cares what I think. But!” You hurried to say since Dr. Richmond was about to open that gorgeous mouth.
“That doesn’t mean I can’t still speak up. Nothing will change if I don’t. So I’m pretty proud of myself. The annoying coworker I told you about? She kept trying to talk over me, so finally, I said ‘excuse me, I’m still talking’.” Your heart had hammered so hard in your chest when you said that but the look on that coworker’s face was everything.
You held things in, sure, letting others dominate conversations and then felt angry and bitter that you let it go for so long. What was the point of engaging in a conversation if you didn’t get to talk as well? They could talk to a wall and leave you out of it.
“That’s great! You should be really proud of that,” Dr. Richmond said.
His praise cascaded like a waterfall through your nervous system, calming it instantly. Self-praise was always a good thing but there was something unique about receiving praise from someone you admire. And you truly did admire Dr. Richmond. His mind was brilliant, his insights spot on, and who could resist that face?
Mentally, you compared him to Cole. They were…just too different to genuinely compare. You had been exchanging texts with Cole for the past week, learning more about him. He was a bit of a slow texter, but the conversation never stalled or fizzled out. And you had to remind yourself again, there was no chance in hell Dr. Richmond would cross that line with you.
The thought of Cole during your therapy session turned your stomach to jelly. It both felt too full and too empty. A nervous, gnawing pit grew and grew the longer you thought about how Cole made you feel. But you couldn’t pinpoint exactly why you were nervous.
“Is there something more?” Dr. Richmond asked.
You fiddled with your journal, digging your thumb into the hard edge. You…shouldn’t say, right? It had nothing to do with your therapy. But, didn’t it? If you took Cole seriously, this would be why you were going through this whole song and dance.
Getting to that big ‘O’ was for you, first and foremost, but Dr. Richmond also promised that you’d be able to achieve it alone or with a partner whenever you wanted.
Dr. Richmond called your name and you looked up at him guiltily. It was too hard to concentrate on his hypnotic steel blue eyes so you tried to find somewhere else to look. His nose was too cute. His glasses framed his face deliciously. And those lips…the bottom lip was prominent and pink and…
Nope. Not going down that lane.
You focused on a spot just behind him and hoped he didn’t pay attention. “I’m…kind of nervous to say,” you admitted.
Terry lowered his pen and gave you a patient smirk. “This only works if you’re honest and willing,” he reminded you.
You pressed your thumb further into your journal but that was no longer a big enough distraction. You leaned forward and finally attended to the zen garden, picking up the rake to shovel sand.
Tiny Spiderman and Obi-Wan Kenobi Lego figures sat in the sand so you pushed them around too. It still wasn’t stimulating enough. So you stood up and paced, working the excess energy out in a different way.
You felt grown up standing up for yourself to your coworker, but you were right back to the scared, frazzled girl who couldn’t make words work. Your stomach did somersaults and flip flops, leaving an all too familiar icky feeling in your chest.
Why was this so damn hard? Why weren’t the answers falling in line? What the hell was wrong with you?
Terry
Terry took a deep breath as he watched you spiral out of control. He hadn’t seen this side of you since the first session. You adorably chewed on your bottom lip, a crease between your eyes, as you processed…whatever it was that zoomed through your mind.
Selfishly, he wanted to shake you until you dropped all of your secrets. But that was unhinged and he didn’t want to go to jail. He waited as you self-soothed, pacing the length of the couch.
After a minute or two, you seemed to unravel, rubbing your head and obviously kicking yourself. “Hey, whatever it is, this is still your space. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. You’re always in control,” he said. Though he wanted to say the damn opposite.
He rubbed his goatee and took another deep breath. This wasn’t about him. It wasn’t about his feelings. It wasn’t about what he selfishly thought about. You were off limits. Plain and simple. He loved his job and he wasn’t going to risk it, no matter how perfect you were.
“That’s not it!” You said, walking back and forth.
“Then say it,” Terry said. His imagination ran wild with what it could possibly be. You blamed yourself for so much, berated yourself for so much, what else was there?
“I met a guy!” You finally snapped and then paused mid-pace as if someone found your off switch. You flopped onto the couch and dropped your head into your hands.
Terry’s chest began to burn but he ignored it for the more pressing concern. “Are you upset you met a man or…?” Terry asked.
“No, more like…I’ve been working on being in control and being more assertive. That was literally the homework. But when it came time to say…I don’t know why I wanted to hesitate. Like this is for me, this is my journey, so like…”
“Hey, circle of control. What can you control?” Terry leaned forward and asked.
You deflated and rubbed your head. “My thoughts, my actions, my words, etc.,” you said.
Terry nodded his head. “And we know that healing…” Terry prompted.
“Is a journey. This is me doing too much, huh?” You asked, finally meeting his eyes. The crease between your eyebrows lessened with each breath you took.
“Not doing too much. You can’t control your healing journey. You’re going to mess up. You’re going to backtrack. There’s no ‘right way’ to heal. Right?” Terry asked.
You took a deep breath and leaned back on the couch to stare at the ceiling. Your cheeks puffed out with the effort and Terry took the time to look over your unguarded face. He…didn’t like the worry in your eyes when you got too hard on yourself.
But that wasn’t his business. You weren’t his to keep. He had to repeat that a few times in his mind as he adjusted in his seat and grimaced. “Tell me about this man,” he said, nearly through clenched teeth.
You showed no sign of noticing his attitude as a shy smile crept across your face. An image floated through his mind of finding whoever the fuck it was that put it there and knocking his fucking teeth in. Terry adjusted once more, no longer able to sit comfortably.
“His name is Cole. We met at a bookstore and like…he’s English and smart, well-read, and goofy,” you began, telling him all about…Cole. What a stupid ass little boy name. And the way your voice softened talking about him…
Terry rubbed his goatee and fought the urge to pace himself. This was…normal. It was healthy. You were supposed to meet someone. And yet…
“And like, way after when I was telling my friend Brooklyn about him, I kept wondering if he could be the one to dominate me the way I want?” You said, adding a question mark at the end there. You couldn’t look him in the face as you spoke and Terry’s baser instincts won over his rationale.
“You don’t sound so sure,” he said.
Your beautiful eyes snapped to his and your lips parted. “I..I guess…” you said.
“During our first session, you admitted that you were probably submissive but do you know if it’s actually submission that you want? If it’s something more nuanced? If you don’t know that, how can you recognize the type of dominant partner you want?” He asked, firing off the questions. He knew he wasn’t being fair but he was also a man and he wasn’t perfect.
Hearing you talk about…Cole…the soft lilt of your voice…the dreamy look…he refused to abide. Without waiting for you to answer, he continued on.
“We haven’t discussed why you’re into submission or what about it appeals to you. We haven’t discussed your interests and what you need from a partner. Or what to recognize. Do you know the difference between a dominant, caring partner or a little boy who likes barking orders?”
You inhaled sharply, but Terry was on a roll now. He let the chains loose around his own ironclad control and he had no intention of letting up right now. His chest burned too much. His body felt too off center. His vision had narrowed until there was only you sitting there in that same red hoodie and light wash jeggings that often found its way to his dreams at night.
“Do you know the difference between a dom, a daddy dom, a brat tamer, a pleasure dom, findom, or an owner dom? How about submissive brats, service subs, sub princess, pet play, bedroom submissive, or rope bunnies? Do you only want to be a sub in the bedroom or do you want the full experience? A variation of it?”
Your chest rose and fell in rapid waves as you glared at him. Your nails dug into the golden brown leather on the couch. That should have been his cue to shut up. To stop talking and think about what he was doing. But the look on your face as you talked about Cole filled his vision and egged him on. Made the acid in his chest worse.
Terry flipped through his notes. “You also said that you were into the ‘semi-asshole alpha male types’ when you read, but reading fiction doesn’t always translate to reality. You can enjoy disgusting things in fiction but abhor it in reality.”
“Stop,” you whispered.
“You’re open about the shallow things, shooting off what you’ve personally gathered to be true. But when it comes to the harder questions, the harder answers, it’s like you dance around it and you’re just not the type to tap dance like that. At least not here. You’ve been unflinchingly honest from the first session, so what’s changed?” Nothing helped to ease the blazing heat in his chest. He rubbed at it, fisting his hand against his chest and fought the urge to beat against it like a computer that didn’t want to work.
“Shut up,” you whispered again.
He heard you. But that other side to him, that need for answers that made his mouth work faster than his brain, didn’t want to hear. Didn’t want to listen.
“I’m not saying this Cole person couldn’t give it to you. But if he doesn’t, are you able to articulate why that is and tell him what you do need? What is that you want to achieve? Because if it’s just a fast track button to an orgasm, I’m not your therapist,” he said.
Shit. He hadn’t meant to say that. Seeing red, he went too far. His hands turned sweaty as he looked away from you.
“I’m not a fucking child and you can’t speak to me like that,” you said, your voice low but laced with venom.
“I’m sorry–”
“I’m not a dumbass that doesn’t know her left from her right. I may not know all of the terms but I’m smart, capable, and more than able to use my words to communicate what I want. I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t brave enough to ask for help in what I need. And you’re supposed to be on my side! You’re supposed to help me!”
“Please, forg–”
“I’m not done!” You stood up and swiped at your eyes. The sight of your tears, at what he caused, made his chest burn in a different way. It was a sharp, shameful burn that burrowed deep in his heart and made him want to apologize until he was blue in the face.
“You don’t get to sit on a high horse and criticize me through this journey. We just got done saying it’s a journey. So you can’t expect me to have all the answers to all these questions right off the bat. Your job, the reason we’re here, is to fucking help me! Help me figure out what I’m looking for and explore what I need. Maybe Cole will be open to it. But he’s not the first man who started out promising and then showed his ass somehow.
“I’m already trying to stop myself from spiraling. Is he a chubby chaser? Is he even into Black girls like that? He’s from England, is he even sure he wants to be with an American? There’s cultural differences, background differences, and that’s without adding sex to the occasion. Is he even interested in my body or is this a box he’s trying to check? Like I don’t fucking know!
“I can’t control what comes next. But I damn sure know that you’re being extremely unfair. And rude as hell!”
Your chest rose and fell with the force of your words. Terry felt the full weight of your scolding like a cold shower in the middle of winter. He couldn’t look you in the eye. Couldn’t face what he’d done. What he’d said.
He’d forever turn this over in his head and puzzle out why he went off as he did. It was unprofessional. Gross. Demeaning. You didn’t deserve it.
“Say something. You had plenty to say before,” you said and crossed your arms.
“I have absolutely no excuse. I am deeply, deeply sorry for my actions. I…” Terry licked his lips. Fuck. He was out of his depth. And he hated it. Hated that he was off center. Unbalanced. Unmoored.
“I don’t have the words to convey how fucked up that was. I’m…just as invested in your journey as you are. Perhaps too much,” he said. He rubbed his goatee, mind already spinning with how he was going to make it up to you.
“You were right on all accounts. My job is to help you and guide you and explore your needs. This isn’t about me. And I made it about me. Please, please let me course correct.” He pleaded with his eyes, put every ounce of regret he could muster into them, to get you to see how sorry he was. Fuck. They needed a stronger word than sorry.
Your fingers tapped against your bicep but you didn’t make him wait long. It was your kind heart. Any other person would make him grovel and plead on his knees. He wasn’t above it, honestly. Strangely. Not when it came to the puzzle that was you.
But you weren’t just a puzzle. He simply liked…talking to you. He never knew what was going to fly out of your mouth next. What new piece you would reveal for him to turn over in his mind. What new insight you gave that made him see the world differently. He didn’t want to lose it.
Dammit. Selfishly, he just didn’t want to lose it.
“I really want to tell you to fuck off. But you’ve given me hope that I’m not a freak. I want to keep going. But you have to do better,” you said.
Terry nodded his head. “Picture of professionalism,” he said.
Your mouth twitched, but you weren’t ready to forgive him. That was good. He didn’t want to charm you into disregarding your boundaries. And he wasn’t going to manipulate your feelings.
“I’ll see you next week,” you said. You gathered your purse and journal and stormed out of his office, leaving him to lean back in his chair and curse himself ten ways from Sunday.
Terry
Terry lost track of the rep count as he continued to lift on the bench press. Sweat covered him from head to foot, plastering his loose gym clothing to his body.
His arms screamed bloody murder and he would definitely feel it once he stopped. But he couldn’t stop right now. Couldn’t get his arms to stop pumping. He was out of breath, vision blurry with sweat, but he persisted.
Today was…unacceptable. While he preached about the circle of control and mastering emotions, he knew himself inside and out and knew how intense he could get. He trained not only his body but also his mind. He controlled his feelings but there was nothing mature about how he acted today.
You weren’t his and…well, that was the core of it. You weren’t his. So he didn’t have the right to be jealous of Cole.
Were you talking to him right now? Were you agreeing to a date with him right now? It was none of his fucking business. But he wanted it to be.
For the first time all night, his unerring rhythm dipped and he nearly dropped the barbell on his chest. He extended his arms and paused, his arms finally starting to feel the exhaustion. He carefully placed the weight bar in its place and groaned as he sat up.
Aches and concerns finally registered, his body too spent to lift his arms any longer. His chest screamed in pain with each inhale and exhale and he wheezed as he feebly stretched.
Sweat raced down his forehead, stinging his eyes. He grabbed the towel from the floor beside him and wiped his head and face. Immediately, more sweat droplets rained down so he gave himself another once over.
That was the problem. Over the past few weeks as you peeled back your layers for him to peruse over, he fell. And fell. Until he looked forward to your sessions. Looked forward to watching you discover more of yourself. It was exhilarating watching you figure these things out. He was only glad to be there with you on that journey.
But that professional ambition melted away to desire. He wanted more. He wanted you. He wanted.
And for the life of him, he couldn’t think of a good reason why he shouldn’t let himself have it. There was his job, sure. He wasn’t the first doctor to fall for a patient. He could drop you and explain why.
However, he did make the promise that he would get you what you wanted. How could he pass you over to someone else? How could he lose access to that beautiful mind of yours?
All of this predicated on the assumption that you were even interested in him. Sometimes he thought he caught glimpses of you checking him out, but it could be explained away too easily.
Now that he admitted that he wanted you, his brain worked over time for solutions. He either had to let you go or fight for you.
And the dom in him wanted his fucking sub.
Need more Terry? The Secret Terry Richmond Files | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3
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I'm not ready!!!

"You know, what I do adore about you, ℕ𝕒𝕞𝕚, is your auditory perception skills." He praised, but it was more of a back-handed compliment from these new lips. "It keeps you one step ahead of me and I 𝕕𝕠𝕟'𝕥 like that."
There's Sir and Daddy, but....this one is unnamed for now.
Catch Up On R.E.L.Ls:
🎀 Part One 🎀 Part Two 🎀 Part Three 🎀 Part Four 🎀 Part Five 🎀 Part Five II
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"You know, what I do adore about you, ℕ𝕒𝕞𝕚, is your auditory perception skills." He praised, but it was more of a back-handed compliment from these new lips. "It keeps you one step ahead of me and I 𝕕𝕠𝕟'𝕥 like that."
There's Sir and Daddy, but....this one is unnamed for now.
Catch Up On R.E.L.Ls:
🎀 Part One 🎀 Part Two 🎀 Part Three 🎀 Part Four 🎀 Part Five 🎀 Part Five II
113 notes
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