#I don’t even want him carnally I want him under a microscope

[cryptidowl]

It’s kinda funny seeing how people are collectively struggling to get the romance they want in BG3.

Not me tho, I’m as curious and morally bankrupt as the vampire.

[satoruhour]

LEGIT JUST DASHED HERE FKJAKJLASDFKJL

TA! Nanami won't leave my brain so pleaseeee 🥺just him assisting you with lab reports by eating you out

❄️

(ANYTHING BUT) LAB HELP

a/n: icy you got me thinkin about my own TA and the failures in which i am too scared to cop him 😭😭😭 / this was purely fuelled by my own carnal need for nanami after last week’s episode because WHEEEEEWWW !

wc: 5.5k

warnings: fem!reader, TA!nanami, reader is a big simp for nanami but vice versa too, reader has long hair in this, slight age gap? since nanami is a TA (27 / 22), m! masturbation, fantasising, semi-public masturbation, oral (f! receiving) / cunnilingus, fingering, hair pulling, little praise, degradation, use of ‘slut’, unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink, implied multiple rounds, n*sfw under the cut

the first time your TA walked in, your jaw drops. with a face and body like that, he should rightfully be in the modelling industry, not teaching you about dissecting and suturing mice and looking at atoms under a microscope.

all you know is that nanami kento was just like every teaching assistant — attending lectures just like the rest of the students, taking down notes for his tutorial and lab sessions, answering curious emails from everyone — but every interaction you had with this man was anything but normal, or at least that’s what you felt.

you’ve never viewed someone in such a deranged and filthy way before: pulling on his blonde hair and taking off that hideous cheetah print tie and telling him to his face that wearing a full suit while teaching makes him insanely older than he actually is; and also maybe after that, to push him right down to your cunt where he’d eat you out like you deserve.

“i just don’t get why he needs to use a suit at twenty seven years old just to teach — you’re doing your masters, like calm down a little.” you mumble more to yourself than your friend, but she likes every juicy detail you have about this attractive TA you keep talking about even if you sound like you hate him with how much you talk about the damn suit all the time.

but your friend only knows that if you could get his trousers, suit jacket, tie and shirt off of him, you would in a blink of an eye.

“maybe he wants to impress.”

your mouth twists, “who? only person he should be impressing is me.”

it’s all in good fun, with the way you’re talking — in reality, you don’t know what you’d do if the opportunity really presented itself to you. gossip, your legacy (or shame) carried by mouth, expulsion from the university, there were countless of unfortunate things if you do decide to go for the teaching assistant meant purely to help students in better understanding the material.

but it wasn’t one-sided. all those glances you thought nanami was sending you weren’t imagined, nor was it because you thought he was squinting due to bad eyesight. he remembers your name from the first tutorial he taught you, caught you lingering around the lecture hall, helps you a little too much during lab sessions and every time, he’s inexplicably drawn to you and your aura.

“good afternoon, ladies,” the familiar deep and collected voice snaps you out of the conversation, heart beating a hundred miles. you were in no way prepared for this, but you’re grateful for even one meeting out of class. your friend is insufferable though — from your peripheral you can see her giving the two of you a sick grin, “any chance i could ask for directions to this particular room?”

that was another thing; nanami wasn’t from this university. having completed his degree in another, he took his masters in the one you’re attending, wanting a breath of fresh air from the four years of his time in kyoto. that’s what you remember from his introduction, amongst many other things: he liked neutral colours, he’s interested in the philosophy of aesthetics, and he loved bread.

“babe, i’m going to head off for a class,” lies. she had no classes today at all, “see you tomorrow!” she bows briefly to nanami who only shoots her a tender smile and you turn to the side to bite your fist. you’ve become good at containing your reactions, though.

“oh! nanami-san, of course. headed there for a class?”

what kind of stupid question is that? of course he w—

“i’m heading there for a seminar, actually, starts in about,” he checks his watch, “10 minutes. the uni invited an external professor to give a talk that merges both the philosophical aspects of questioning life alongside the functions of the body, sparking thoughts of science and philosophy. thought it’d be interesting.”

you swallow and you swear you can feel your core pulsing. hot, intelligent and always pushing the boundaries and capacity of learning? you could only thank the gods that it was a cooler day, not being able to do anything if you actually do melt into a puddle.

“y-yeah! yeah, i know where it is.” you don’t, but the rooms are usually lined up pretty nicely, and you know you would be able to guide him successfully without much trouble; but when you’re checking the seminar room, you realise that they may have changed venues.

“crap . . five minutes. nanami-san, do you think maybe they sent a follow-up email with the change in location?” you’re more on edge than nanami is because you usually don’t like to be late for anything, recalling the jumble of numbers and letters he showed you earlier and lining them with the label plates outside the room.

“uh— oh, shit. yeah, i might’ve shown you the wrong email.” your jaw drops when you see the new venue.

“that’s . . on the other side of campus, nanami-san.”

“how long will it take?”

you wince at the disappointment on his face, “if you take the campus bus, at least fifteen minutes.”

nanami’s understandably mad at himself for his own mistake, knowing he’d miss a good chunk of the talk whilst travelling there, but he’s distracted from his self-loathing — taken aback at the quickness in which you offer to drive him.

“uh . . it’s probably maybe eight minutes there by car. my car’s parked close by if you want a lift—”

and nanami thinks it’s simultaneously the perfect and terrible day to send his car to the mechanics and settle for public transport. perfect because he might accept your offer to be close to you, terrible because he would much rather you sit in the passenger sit of his car rather than the other way around.

nanami forgets to be modest in your presence, so he accepts it without a second beat and follows you in a jog to the parking lot. there are scattered vehicles, possibly belonging to professors and maybe students, and the both of you come to an everyday looking corolla.

“okay! unlocked. i’ll try to speed and get you there in four minutes.” nanami can only manage a soft thank you, touched by your generosity and even more drawn by the determination in your face. with a turn of the ignition key, the man clutches onto the seatbelt as you lurch forward with the acceleration, and then you’re taking off.

you’re not the best driver, driving past yellow lights and terrible at changing lanes, but you get the job done. coming to rest in front of the humanities block, you’re arriving with the seminar starting just two minutes ago, and nanami looks at you like you just moved the moon and stars for him.

“thank you, (y/n)-san, truly,” he’s out of breath, maybe a little shaken up from the drive but it’s nothing he isn’t used to (gojo sucks too), “how can i repay you?”

you shake your hand, “a-ah, no it’s nothing. it was just an eight minute drive compressed into four.”

“no, really, let me pay back the favour.”

you bit your lip — you can’t possibly say the thing that’s on your mind. he would report you, you would have to be kicked out, your future crumbling before your eyes — you go for the tamer request.

“lunch, one day, then.”

nanami smiles at you and you feel like it’s cupid shooting his shot straight into your heart. you hardly see the man, smile, ever, so to have a genuine one directed at you made you squeeze your thighs together. there’s hope bubbling in nanami’s heart when he sees the effect of his smile: a glint in your eye and the quickened breaths, he may have thought your thighs move, too, but he didn’t have the balls to glance down to the one place he knew he wouldn’t be able to resist.

“how ’bout right after the seminar?” fuck. you’re grinning now and you see a little of nanami’s teeth in an amused smile.

“sure, nanami-san,” adrenaline sends you reeling, eyes boring so tirelessly into his that you wish he’d understand all the things you want him to do to you. he peeks a quick glimpse of your lips as they lick it before unbuckling his seatbelt, popping open the passenger door to head out. your hand instinctively goes up to stop him, “or should i say . . passenger princess.”

that prompts a full grin out of your TA, who lets out an attractive chuckle before leaving from your car, “sure, whatever you want to call me.”

you’re driving away happily, kicking your feet once you’re parked in another car park and giggling to yourself. unbeknownst to you of the small little thing nanami says after, “although i’d like it if you call me yours.”

the spiral starts from there. it was approximately two hours — you have two hours of going back to the dorms to choose something you knew you looked good in while continuing to text your friend in excitement. it was chaos between the hours of eleven to one pm, rummaging through your closet to find something suitable. you went through many rounds of outfits and with each photo to your friend you were losing hope.

“‘let’s just stick with the first’?” you scoff loudly after reading out her feedback, typing out a reply to your friend. it sounded a little agitated but you can’t help but heart the message wishing you a good luck.

before you know it, you’re hearing a knock on the window, greeted with the very nice sight of his suit jacket now removed and his blue shirt rolled up at the sleeves. it’s like he’s heard your thoughts too because even his ugly tie is bundled up in his hand.

“the AC wasn’t working.” he simply explains, once he’s in the car and he appreciates your gesture of turning yours to the max. you let your eyes rake over his figure, the pull of his shirt that looks too tight for him and the lines of his forearms, before he finally gets settled in and begs your eye contact.

“bummer,” you click your tongue, “but well, any places you have in mind?”

you start the car, pulling out of the lobby and nanami playfully hums, “not going to listen to your passenger princess’ struggles? do you hate women perhaps?”

“nah, i’m a toxic man who doesn’t care about his girl’s life.” that draws a laugh out of nanami, who sinks more into the seat. he’s more relaxed here than in class, than in lectures and it’s a nice sight to behold.

he echoes your sentiment with a small smile, “bummer.”

you both settle on an eatery pretty easily, with nanami keeping his promise of paying for your lunch (you made sure to pay back just a little with some bread, though, because how does a simple car lift equate to a whole lunch?). he was everything you thought him out to be: insanely insightful and smart; on a more physical level, jacked with such a pretty voice to the point you let him ramble about the seminar. it was the most animated you’ve seen him act.

since then, he’s become more open to accepting food items and hangouts with his students, although they never really hit like the first lunch he’s had with you. it was detrimental to his teaching, really, even now where he glares at your lab partner who you’re laughing with. it makes his stomach turn with jealousy, even as you exchange nudges while completing your worksheets.

he figures he can’t do anything but wait for you to initiate, mind muddled with thoughts of you and the possibility you were just being a nice person from what you did before, until you’re interrupting him from his rage-fuelled cleaning of the lab with a tap to his shoulder.

“nanami-san?” the students have filed out by now, a shell of what used to be a lab full of students groaning at the innards of the rats they were cutting open and the whispers of confusion at how to sew them back up.

“what is it?” he turns around too fast, almost knowing over a beaker by accident and when his hand goes over to catch it, you stabilise it as well. your hand encases his, the both of you resisting the urge to smile while you try to remember the question you so desperately tried to think of; anything to just talk to him.

“this is about um . . last week’s experiment about gas chromatography.”

“yeah?” nanami leans against the table, arms crossed and all and suddenly looking too buff that you feel a little lightheaded. his eyes skim over your body, a tight fitting shirt that accentuates your tits whilst you have some yoga pants on and if he bent you over, he’s confident he can see your pussy lips from behind the fabric. he knows it’s because you had a yoga class this morning, because he’s too invested in your life and you willingly give him what he wants.

“if the two mixtures contained the same alcohols but filled up to different amounts, do you know a method via the gas chromatogram to distinguish between the two mixtures?”

“uhm—”

nanami looks collected but he is sweating, approached at such a random time that he doesn’t have time to prepare except stutter through his answer. you don’t notice how you’ve been stepping closer and closer to him, either, until you’re an inch from one another.

“oh! alright, that makes sense.”

“anything else?” your TA looks down at you, hands just itching to bring you in. the lab is so quiet, now, save for the shuffling feet of the students outside but thankfully the windows are opaque. you could probably hear a pin drop if it wasn’t for your hearts pounding so loudly in your chests. your finger twitches with your incomplete lab report.

“right— well, yes, i was asking if you c—”

“babe!” the lab door slides open at the same time your friend calls out to you and you cough in embarrassment. nanami only clears his throat as the two of you step away and your cheeks burn, and he has to loosen the tie around his neck just for a bit.

“you told me to wait for you outside, right? well you were taking too long and . .” the other only continues his ‘task’ of cleaning up, looking anywhere but your direction as she continues to ramble, but he doesn’t miss the look of recognition on your friend’s face.

she mouths to you— i’m so sorry for interrupting, before she has half a mind to say something out loud and you’re clasping your hand over her mouth and ushering her outside hurriedly.

“shush— okay, thanks mr. nanami-san!”

he only waves a hand in farewell, but as soon as the door closes he collapses onto the seat. with head in hands, his mind wanders to the proximity in which the two of you were engaged in and the very, very uncomfortable boner in his pants. he’s so big that everyone can probably see it, frozen in place as he gets a sick idea.

“yeah, i told you to wait for me but not to barge in like that— oh my god! you should go on the records for having the worst timing ever.” you aren’t entirely disappointed, but it did seem like a good opportunity. you’re partly glad, too, because your mind now feeds you countless scenarios of nanami’s expressions turning into disgust and shock.

“dang, i’m sorry, but we do have to get going if we want to make it in time for that cafe event.”

your mouth twists, “yeah, i guess so.”

“if it makes you feel better, maybe he’ll want you more after this interruption.” she winks and you shove her playfully.

“now, you’re just trying to justify your bad timing!”

in that short time, you’re unaware that nanami has unzipped his pants and pulled out his hard-on through the hole of his boxers, insanely hard and body burning with regret. “lord, forgive me.”

he imagines you propped up on the (clean) lab tables, feet on his shoulders as he eats you out from below, or even hitting it from the back as he “helps” you with your lab report in the dorm, knowing damn well you won’t get anything done, or maybe even your mouth full of his throbbing cock sucking him off as he teaches.

nanami strokes his length in the empty lab room, knowing there wasn’t any classes any time soon from how often he’s looked at the timetables. there, he simply pumps himself under the table, biting at his shirt sleeves to muffle his grunts that he drools. it drops to the table, but he’s caring not one bit, because the feel of his hands just feel too good against him and the images of you only get lewder and lewder.

“s-shit . .” nanami swears quietly, hoping the slickness of his pre-cum doesn’t give him away, squeezing and moving his hands faster along his cock. his tip’s so sensitive — what would your mouth or pussy feel like? would you have let him rip your tights and fuck you silly just now? his hips are bucking into his hands, now, thinking of turning your sweet, sweet smile into something of pure sex, and before he knows it, he’s shooting his load onto the floor with a loud groan, thumbing his tip shakily. nanami’s breaths are ragged, guilt burning him alive while he washes his hand at the sink beside the tables and crouches to the floor, cleaning up after himself — nanami definitely wouldn’t be able to face you after this.

he was right. his mind was flooded with you in obscene positions and your saccharine voice twisted into moans and whines, he wonders if you taste as good as the pineapple juice he had the other day. even in tutorials, the students were wondering why the AC was turned up so high, because one glance from you made him hot and bothered. he liked to book it straight out of class, too, directing all questions to his email which he highlights very clearly in his slides, muttering something about being on a tight deadline with his thesis for his masters, but it’s never that serious — he’s usually heading back to quell the uncomfortable boner in his pants.

“prof? nanami-san?” you knew you’d find him in here in the professor’s office, probably going over lesson plans. your professor only shoots you a friendly greeting as nanami turns in his chair, he’s always happy to see his students while nanami swallows when you’re back in your yoga getup. it’s been a week, already?

“need anything, (y/n)?”

“oh, i need more of nanami-san, since it’s relating to my lab reports.” your professor usually conducted lab sessions, but nanami was the one to help with the reports, conveying the information of what to write and whatnot; well, it was also easier to talk someone who isn’t so intimidating and cool as your professor.

“kento, help me lock up after you’re done, alright?” your professor throws him the keys and you stifle a laugh at the way he stumbles out the door, “going home early to the wife, ahah . . guess i’m falling for her over again.”

that draws a laugh from both of you, bidding him goodbye with a smile on your faces before the mood turns tense again, and nanami looks up at you from his chair. you take him in: the manspread, the head tilt, the intentional (but you don’t know that) deep voice.

“yes, (y/n)?”

you gulp, remembering what your friend said — keep eye contact, slowly walk up to him, keep your voice nonchalant — it was easier said than done.

“cat got your tongue?”

you sputter and exclaim, “no— no i’m okay. i just wanted to ask about the alcohols used in the experiment last week.”

“ah, you’re still on that?”

his tone is laced with a slight disdain, possibly from how much he hates how you make him feel, coming in here to ask about your stupid lab report when he know you’re a bright student who hardly needs any help, coming in here like the two of you don’t want each other.

“y-yes, nanami-san.”

he stands and easily towers over you. from here, you can see his broad shoulders take up his shirt as he walks you back, buttons unbuttoned to reveal a bit of skin. you feel like prey being cornered, but nanami still has some sense of chivalry when he wraps an arm around your waist to prevent you from hitting the frosted glass door.

“mind telling me why your lab report from over two weeks ago is taking so long to be completed?”

reality seeps in for just a moment and his hand removes itself, hovering just over your body, “we still . . have a week to finish it up, nanami-san . .”

your TA takes a deep breath and you think that maybe that was the wrong answer, but all nanami does is step even closer to you and your hands have no choice but to rest on his toned chest. he can only hope no one can see your figure when you’re pressed flat against the frosted glass, but he knows this part of the uni is a little deserted this late in the afternoon.

“that’s not wrong . .” his voice is down to a whisper, closing his eyes for a moment when your hands travel over his chest. when he opens them again, they’re more than just the pretty, hazel ones you like to fantasise about, stained with a darker sort of lust that involves taking you, even if it meant doing it in the professor’s office. “but you’re always submitting it pretty early on, aren’t you? what changed, hm?”

you can feel his breath on your lips, wishing he would just take the first step because frankly, your pussy is throbbing and your body is already leaning into him even without his hand on your back. it feels natural like that.

“i got distracted.”

nanami’s breath moves from your lips to your neck, and you cheer in your head as he plants a gentle kiss there, but it’s not quite what you want. he hums into the crook of your neck, torturing you with wet kisses and sucking lightly.

“by what? your friend? or perhaps it’s some external commitment that’s taking up a lot of your time?” nanami already knows the answer but he enjoys the way you squirm. “what is it?”

by now, your hands are trailing up his body, wrapping around his neck and playing with his undercut. his skin is so soft and he smells so damn good, and he sighs at your hands.

“by someone, actually.” you bite the bullet, forcibly removing him from your neck which is definitely starting to show the obvious blue black on the skin there. his hands this whole time have been placed against the door behind you, but the carnal need is too prominent that he wraps that same arm around your middle. the other, on your nape; the sheer size of his hand makes you whine and nanami smiles at that.

“mind telling me who is it? maybe i could give them a good talk, tell them to stop tormenting my smart girl.”

that draws out a visceral reaction from you, melting into his arms at the simple praise. nanami helps you a little, leaning in with an expression as needy as yours.

“you’re gonna talk to yourself?” a laugh is the last thing you hear before he crashes his lips against yours, a hand smartly going to the door to flip the lock before he pulls you flush against him. you moan softly when you feel his hard-on, against your front, manhandled easy by nanami’s arms as he whips you around to walk you to your professor’s desk.

“do you think he’ll sue us?” nanami kisses down your neck with him between your legs, hands fondling every inch of your body while you grind up against his pelvis. with such thin material such as your yoga tights between you, it feels so damn good.

“at most he’ll remove me as TA . .” as he speaks, you can feel the vibrations along your skin, legs instinctively bringing him closer. he doesn’t let you, instead pulling away from your body and goes to his knees, seeing just how soaked you are. he thanks god you weren’t wearing black, because there’s a wet patch that leaks too much — it’s clear you didn’t bother to wear underwear at all. “but that is if he finds out about this, right?”

you smile, feet pushing at his back towards your dripping cunt and you moan softly when he licks at your pussy through the fabric.

“yeah— yeah i guess so,” you’re then expecting his hands to pull at your waistband and you lift your hips knowingly, but you hear a stark riiip! that echoes throughout the office and you gasp, too focused on his pretty face to notice he’s dug his fingers into the yoga tights to tear it at your centre. the action turns you on, entirely sure you felt your pussy flutter at the sheer strength that he had.

“i’ll buy you new ones, baby,” nanami presses a gentle kiss against your clit and you shiver at the contact, hot breath threatening your demise by his hand, “they’re of terrible quality, by the way.”

you huff, “yeah, you kinda ripped it, nanami-san. plus, what’s terrible — not in quality but in looks — is your tie.”

nanami chuckles, caressing your inner thighs with gentle fingers, blowing lightly on your cunt, “personal vendetta against cheetahs?”

that sends shivers along your whole body, “n-no, just don’t really like the look of it.”

nanami hums, “i’m wounded.”

“you’ll live.”

he only laughs again, “okay, enough talking. i’m starving.” and starving he was — he latches his mouth onto your clit like a vice, sucking and flicking his tongue relentlessly you have no choice but to cry out his name. “taste so fucking sweet,” the sudden swear catches you off-guard, paired with the rasped voice and your hips willingly hump his mouth, “pussy made for me.”

“don’t say shit like that . .” you whine, embarrassed at the filthiness of his words and yet you’re sat here on a desk, pushing your sex more and more into his lips. “it’s embarrassin’.”

nanami clicks his tongue, “you’re still here.”

“yeah, shut up.” you push him further into your cunt to silence him, a loud moan leaving your lips as nanami slobbers over you — you’re so wet, spilling onto the floor. without warning, nanami slips a finger into you, easing it in and the sheer thickness of it prompts more mewls from you.

“k—kento . .” you hear nanami groan at the first name basis, shoving his finger deeper into you. he pumps it as his tongue works overtime, the slickness of which your pussy sounds out echoing throughout the room. “i’m c-clos—”

that seems to fuel nanami further, memorising how your body feels under him. you clench repeatedly around his finger, thighs twitching against him while your whimpers increase in volume, just like your incoherent babbles.

“i’m g’nna— kento, i’m c—” your back arches when you gush all over his face, juices squirting and making a mess out of his hair. nanami groans into your sopping pussy, slurping up your arousal shamelessly as you continue to give him everything of you. you’re shaking around him, moans slowly dwindling due to shame. by now, you’ve soaked through the bottom of your tights, letting him rip the seams for a little more access.

“wanna hear you, baby.” he easily multitasks, turning you around while removing his underwear, looking back at him while you shimmy your ass back into him. with a low moan, nanami drags his tip over your folds, collecting your cum and pushing it in with it. the stretch makes your jaw drop and legs tremble, pussy still sensitive from the previous orgasm.

you hold on to the wooden desk to the best of your ability but your iron grip makes the wood creak a little; it isn’t long before nanami starts moving.

“f-fuck . . you’re so tight,” the lewdness of the situation, your ruined tights, your ass moving with the force of his hips has him gripping your hips harsher than intended. his cock is just so fat, hitting your spots effortlessly as he rams into you from behind, “will this be enough motivation for you to finish that lab report, hm?” your perked up ass is receiving all the abuse from his pelvis, rutted into with pure primal need as the slaps of his balls against you gets louder and louder, just like your moans.

“g-gonna need more than this, kento—!” you’re whining as he reaches around to rub at your clit, messy and fast, surely drawing marks down the once flawless wooden desk. he just hopes there’s no one who requires the professor’s assistance because there was a clear indication that the office was open with the shining ceiling light but he was in no condition to answer any questions without panting.

nanami pushes down your lower back, cockhead hitting your spots over and over, “need more? of course you do, fuckin’ slut.” it’s a total 180 from the gentle way he’s kissed you earlier — a choked whine and a clench of your pussy tells him you like it . “oh . . she’s cock drunk already, huh?”

“yesyesyes! mmff— kento, please . .” he pulls on your hair from behind, made easy by the ponytail you had it in and you moan at the mixture of pain and pleasure. he takes it a little easier, resting his large palm at your neck and pulling, together with your hair. nanami sucks at the same spot as earlier, and the overwhelming sensations has you both arching your back and fucking yourself back onto him.

“pretty arch you got here, darling,” he pants out, fucking so hard into you with his support that your hands don’t even need to rest on the table. nanami knows you’re already close by the way you’re unresponsive, mindless babbling leaving your mouth while you let him use your limp body. “is it all for m-me?”

“mhmh— it is, it is—” you’re fucked senseless, letting him turn your head to meet him in a sloppy kiss. by now your pussy juices are spurting all over the place, staining the floor and table, dripping down his balls where with every slam of his cock you can here the wet pap! pap! pap!’s of it.

“y—yeah i know it is; that’s all you are, aren‘t you? a little cocksleeve for me.” nanami groans out, letting go entirely before wrapping his arms around you and trapping you between his front and the table. he’s flush against your back, thrusts faltering with each plunge into your warm, tight pussy as he feels you clench tirelessly and you don’t even to say it before you’re jolting in his hold.

“cumming, i’m cumming . . fuuuck . .” your body is so sensitive, shaking around his cock that continues to move into you. you cum all over him, listening to the dirty whispers he’s dumping into your ears.

“oh . .” nanami groans, “that’s a good little slut, s-shit—” your hips continue to move even though your brain tells you to stop, hands making terrible effort at reaching for him.

“wan’ you to cum in me, kentoo—” your grip on his forearm is tight, pleading with your doe eyes and small voice that has nanami grunting out in a dilemma, but your pussy’s too warm that he cums suddenly. his voice reaches a higher register, stuttering pelvis rutting into you with the intent of breeding you; he pumps you full of his seed, ropes upon ropes of white filling your womb. it’s so thick that you shiver again, yelping softly when he pulls out.

“look at that . .” nanami marvels at the amount of cum he’s dumped into you, using a finger to scoop it up before pushing it back in that you jump from the coldness of his finger. “a smart girl turned so dumb just from cock.” you give him an intoxicated smile, lazy and hooded as you lay limp on the table.

“only for your cock, nanami-san . .” you lick a stripe up the palm of your hand and he indulges you by stepping closer. he moans softly as your hand makes contact with his shaft, “or should i say . . sir?”

nanami ended up driving you back to your dorm, helping you to your room from how sore you were after that.

[prettywordsyouleft]

Experimental

Summary: As a scientist, it was up to Changkyun to ensure the variables in this experiment remained controlled. The last thing he expected was to become part of the experiment himself.

Pairing: Im Changkyun x reader

Genre: vampire au / co-workers to lovers au

Warnings: a snippet of vampire sexual urges but it’s all really tame tbh.

A/N: The final week of Frightful October is here! Welcome to The Classics! Who doesn’t love a good vampire story, huh? And because I forever enjoy writing Changkyun and science together, let’s continue that trend here!

Word count: 4059

[Frightful October Masterlist]

It all happened quite fast really.

One day, Changkyun was human and the very next day he was a vampire. Waking up in his new form had initially confused him. Much like Peter Parker in the Spiderman series, once the venom had run throughout his body, the physical attributes were the first sign to his change. Changkyun sat up in his bed, his vision increasingly sharper than it had been the day before. Rubbing at his eyes, he returned to staring at the curtains, letting out a yelp when the skin over his face started to feel overly hot with the stream of morning light hitting it.

Unlike Peter Parker, Changkyun’s changes didn’t excite him about being some amazing superhero with heightened abilities.

Instead, he let out a curse. An incredibly long, unintelligible string of profanity actually, dashing out of his room and into the bathroom with haste. He should have been more concerned, but he laughed incredulously as he swore again, no longer capable of seeing his reflection in the mirror at all.

And that was when Im Changkyun realised his experiments had adopted a very different variable that he hadn’t been prepared for.

“Are you alright?” you asked when Changkyun arrived in the lab two hours later, glancing up from the microscope you were observing slides of the specimen under and frowning. “Your skin looks deathly pale.”

With another bitter laugh, Changkyun nodded, slipping on his lab coat and coming over to your side. He knew enough about the blood you were working on together now that he expected the burning before he even took a single step forward. But it was unimaginable how overwhelming it all got. He could hear your heartbeat, steady and strong. Your blood was rushing through your veins, flowing down forks and pathways at a rate he had never anticipated. He could sense your next slightest movement before you made it and you suddenly had a scent permeating off your body he had never smelled before.

It was so delectable, he could almost taste it.

Still, to you, Changkyun appeared sluggish, perhaps a little unwell. His sudden transformation overnight was unbeknownst to you and you merely smiled warmly at him when he was close enough.

Far too close for a newly turned vampire, he thought.

“I’ve been monitoring the slides you made last night and there have been some evolving cells in slide seven,” you explained, picking it up and placing it under the microscope. Changkyun had seen it before you had placed it down, blinking rapidly at being able to pick it up without the assistance of equipment. Still, he humoured you, stepping in front of the instrument and looked down into it.

Of course, there had been some improvement. The hybrid cells had formed thanks to him and the mishap he had last night.

At first, he hadn’t wanted to admit he had made a mistake. As the head scientist on this project, he knew more than anyone else about the impacts of the specimen you were working with. Whilst there was no vampire present in this lab – or at least, there hadn’t been until now – the blood was potent enough that if a single drop touched human skin, it would end up being a fatal experience.

And then you’d wake up a vampire, just as he had.

It wasn’t even that simple. He had been on the brink of discovery, focusing on the cell structure in slide number seven that was showing possible indications on how to duplicate it enough to create a cure. Whilst vampires only made up 5% of the world’s population, the primitive creature comforts of drinking from the necks of victims was now in for a modernised revision. There was a market for medical research, to help vampires live more comfortably alongside humans. No more sucking them dry or using up blood banks that were exploiting the not-so mythical creatures for all they were worth. Instead, they would offer a synthetic drug with components that allowed the vampire to exist peacefully in a world run by humans. It wouldn’t cure them completely, but if taken regularly, it would keep the carnal urges at bay, allow them to walk in sunlight and even share normal interactions with humans.

He had been so close with a breakthrough, only to taint it with his own blood instead.

Looking at the slide, he could see the cells had morphed, enhanced by his blood that it had absorbed. Essentially, he had fed the deprived specimen when his finger had slipped whilst working last night, and whilst he had been focusing more on himself and trying to not get infected, he had abandoned the slide’s immediate changes.

Now up close, it looked beautiful.

“I don’t know how such a change could have happened,” you mentioned with confusion, lifting your hand to rest on his upper arm as you would often do in the lab. However, he knew it was about to happen and stepped away before you could touch him, your perplexed expression deepening at his jittery behaviour. Your eyebrows knitted together. “You okay?”

“Just watch that slide for me. Do not touch it with your hands.”

You rolled your eyes. “Who would be dumb enough to do that? That’s why we have specialised equipment, Kyun.”

“Of course. I’ll be up in my office if you need me,” he mumbled, leaving you on the lab floor and taking to the stairs in the corner, hurrying up them and into his sanctuary. Once the door was shut, he ran a hand over his face irritably, soon pulling away to inspect his finger. The cut was gone, as he expected it would be but still, it piqued his curiosity. As a scientist, it was an innate skill to always ask questions of the problems presented to him. He couldn’t understand how he had changed into a vampire when his actual finger hadn’t touched the slide. What had been contaminated by the blood before his wound happened? The outside of his gloves? Your chiding answer repeated in his head, and Changkyun replayed last night’s hours spent in the office. He marvelled at the speed in which his brain functioned, the clarity of his memory now exceptional. It was as if he was rewinding through CCTV, finding the moment of his accident and watching it unfold in his mind once more. He had been using the equipment expected of his team. Although his attention was definitely not on what was happening around him, and that was where the fault lied. He recognised there was more than one slide infected, leaping up from his chair and raced down the stairs right as you glanced up at him in horror.

“Changkyun, slide four is empty!”

He already knew where it had gone.

Explaining his mishap wasn’t something he wanted to do. Especially since he was now a vampire. He didn’t know what this variable meant to this team. Would you freak out and tell the officials? Were the past five years of his endless research about to go to waste now that he wasn’t effectively alive? Changkyun knew he couldn’t risk that, and yet he had no option but to let you know considering this project was as important to you as it was to him.

“You’re being really weird today,” you told him as he pulled you aside from your panic over the missing specimen, whining at his hand on yours. “Are you running a fever? You’re ice cold.”

“I’m dead.”

“Ha-ha, very funny, boss,” you replied, rolling your eyes. Changkyun didn’t respond and when you were done with your dry humour, you stared at him, unblinking.

“It was a mistake,” he mentioned weakly, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. “I wasn’t paying enough attention and-”

“Slide four?!” you exclaimed, looking him up at down as if you would find a visible sign on him. There was already enough physical evidence before you, but it didn’t give you the clarity you sought out in your current state.

“Slide seven is contaminated with my blood,” he told you and then heaved a deep breath. “Slide four contaminated me.”

“You’re really dead?”

“Want to grab a stethoscope and check for the lack of beats in my heart?” he offered dryly but you had already grabbed at his wrist, checking for his pulse. You dropped his hand with a dramatic gasp when you found no living signs within his body and Changkyun sighed.

“You’re… you’re a vampire?” you whispered and he nodded. “Really? You’re dead?!”

“So now we have this established-”

“Oh my God, Changkyun, you can’t be a vampire!” you wailed, tears springing to your eyes. You appeared to be in mourning of his loss of life and for a moment, he softened, reaching out to pat your back gently. You glanced up at him through the veil of your emotions, your expression changing. You then thumped him on the chest. “You absolute idiot!”

“Was that meant to be an attack? It felt like a fly landed on me,” he mused and you growled at him, thumping him again. Chuckling at your now weakened attack on his body, he allowed you to hit him three more times before he suddenly took your hands hostage, quirking a warning eyebrow at you. “Now, don’t excite me too much, Y/N. We don’t know what my new skills can do.”

“I can’t believe how stupid you are. Of all the people, who preached on and on about keeping the experiments stable and safe, it’s you who gets infected. Are you sure you didn’t just do it on purpose? Oh, look at me, the scientist vampire!”

“Okay, that’s enough,” he grumbled, all humour evaporated as he stared at you darkly. “Accident or not, I’m still your boss. And this is my experiment I’m leading. We’ve just got a new variable in place now.”

“Instead of using slides, I can use you?” you offered sourly, folding your arms across your chest. “Here, you didn’t have a vampire specimen in the flesh before, now you can use me.”

“Are you done?”

“No, I’m still frustrated,” you admitted with a heavy breath, looking up at him soon after. “Are you going to be okay?”

“Well, I don’t know. My studies tell me that I should be okay until I’m hungry.”

“Which is when? Should I go get you some blood? I think we have some in the chiller. What type do you fancy? A, O-positive?”

It all sounded so unfathomable to him right then and he merely glared at your rambling.

“What? I need to keep myself safe too. Soon you’ll be telling me how delicious I smell and want me to offer up a wrist or something.”

Changkyun swore for the umpteenth time today. “You do smell better than any meal I’ve ever had.”

You gaped at his announcement, but he merely moved to the chair behind his desk, shaking his head. “But I’d be damned if I ever drank a sip of your blood.”

Three days after his transformation, you had calmed down enough to see the benefits of having a vampire in the lab. Of course, Changkyun was concerned about the changes to his body and requested a full examination before your thoughts ran off with you. He did agree with you, advances on the research would be faster with his newly gained immortality. A test subject would be needed eventually, and this way he would be able to control the experiments on the subject since it would be himself.

Still, initial findings were needed.

“Okay, strip,” you instructed gleefully, Changkyun darting his focus to your wicked expression. “What, I need access to your body to get in-depth analysis, boss.”

“There’s no need to sound so exceptionally excited about it. There’s nothing major to uncover,” Changkyun grumbled, unbuttoning his shirt all the same. Your avid watch soon changed, the further his body appeared on display, the deeper the blush on your skin became. He smirked. “Or maybe, there is something to be excited over.”

“Who knew an overworked scientist would find enough time to hit up the gym,” you breathed, supposedly out of hearing. Though you realised his improved hearing had picked up on your admiration and you coughed loudly, turning away from him to gather your equipment and hopefully some more composure.

“What’s first?” he asked as he sat with his legs dangling over the edge of the examination table, and you turned far too quickly, his hand reaching out to stabilise you. He quirked an eyebrow at you. “Are you fit to examine me?”

“Get over yourself, of course I am,” you muttered, taking a deep breath. Staring up into his eyes as opposed to his naked torso, you listed off all that you wanted to check. The basic stats had already been kept on record since his change, Changkyun monitoring his own health. Of course, apart from the whole lack of a heartbeat and aversion to sunlight, he felt physically perfect.

And your findings supported this. “The x-rays show no abnormalities and your reflexes are off the charts. Sight is far superior than before and you aced your hearing exam. Only one thing left.”

“Ultrasound?” he concluded and you nodded. He moved onto the examination table again, resting into the back support that you had raised up so he could watch your findings. You wheeled the machine over and started setting up; now relatively quiet for someone who normally had a lot to say.

“Is it all becoming too much for you today, doctor?” he teased and you glanced at him, your expression vulnerable. Changkyun frowned, wondering what you were thinking of.

“Is it true about the uncontrollable sexual desires?” you asked softly as you gently dabbed gel onto the points of his bare chest that you would use to help the wand glide over his skin. You dare didn’t look up, but the rosy flush to your skin was enough to excite Changkyun.

Still, he shrugged in answer. “I’ve been a vampire for three days, what would I know about it?”

The truth was he was acutely aware of the multitude of urges of his new existence. Not only did he track your vitals constantly, but he had vivid fantasies over how he wanted to hear your heart rate spike from him bending you over the table behind you. He wanted to take you as his own and carry you through elicit passion until your human body could no longer continue.

Then again, Changkyun didn’t quite need to be a vampire to have sexual fantasises over you. He’d been having them for as long as he had known you, just not to the extremes they were at now. And he had never been bold enough to act on any of them.

He wondered how long he would be able to hold out on them now.

“I guess it’s another myth. We’ll have to cross it out of our studies.”

“There’s no need to be that hasty, Y/N,” he breathed, arching under the feather-like touch of the wand on his chest. He was annoyed that it wasn’t your hand instead; his desires now heightened thanks to your opening of the topic. Glancing away from your sudden look in his direction, he tapped at the screen. “I want a full study of my heart. That is the one area we need more information on. The findings we have suggest it’s the heart that stimulates the disease so let’s start with that.”

“Of course,” you answered firmly, picking up the task and expertly examining the inner areas of his chest. As you worked, Changkyun tried to focus on any findings of his own. Instead of his chest, he watched you. Were you comfortable with his new form already? You showed no fear towards him, that was evident. But could he trust that you would protect his identity from the higher-ups? That part he hadn’t quite figured out yet. He was prepared to close the experiment down if it kept you safe, and open a private case-study away from here to focus on ways to improve his condition.

But having you onboard had always been a requirement for his studies and without you, he didn’t know what he’d do.

“You’re right; I believe the vampire qualities stem from your heart. I’ll need to study the new slides of your blood cell count, but for now, I am seeing several abnormalities to your heart.”

Changkyun didn’t answer, too lost in staring at you. What more would he have to give up to have you stay at his side? He couldn’t be cliché and say he’d give up his life for you. That was already taken away. But could he exist away from you? His brooding intensified, so focused on his thoughts that when your hand touched his bare chest, he flinched, reacting out of instinct.

You were underneath him on the table in lightning speed, both arms pinned under the weight of his hands. Despite your wide stare, you weren’t frightened at all. He was breathing heavily over you, panting from the outburst.

“Changkyun, did you lie?” you asked softly, your dry swallow echoing in his ears. “It’s not a myth is it?”

“Vampire or not, desires about you have always been there, Y/N.”

“Will you do anything about it?” you hoped, lust surfacing in your gaze. He could take you right there and then. Fulfil all he wanted to, answer every craving.

Instead, he climbed off of you, shaking his head in rejection.

“We need to know all about how I work first. I’m not risking your safety just because I want you.”

You had always been a hard worker, yet since the heated moment during his examination, you were further dedicated to your work. From the first moment you stepped into the lab, you were right to it, taking notes on the slides you were monitoring. You requested more examinations throughout the week, and barely stopped to eat lunch and dinner from being so consumed with your studies.

If Changkyun hadn’t been the subject, he would have been thrilled at your determination and work ethic.

However, he was growing concerned by the day. The discoveries made were all positive, but working so closely alongside you was giving him quite the headache. He was wrestling with his morals, the wickedness of his vampire side battling with the remnants of the human mind. He craved more of you as each hour went by.

It was soon the weekend and Changkyun had given you the day off, spending his own in the lab. The artificial lighting made him feel as if he was still able to function, knowing that he couldn’t join you in running into town to get the groceries since the sun was out. He realised even if you did love him back that your relationship couldn’t be normal now. No dates, not unless they were at night. He couldn’t just go out anywhere either, triggered by the slightest changes around him. Being relaxed and carefree with you was basically impossible.

When one touch from him could crush you.

The weather had turned by the time you arrived back, your clothes sodden as you stepped into the lab, heading for the kitchen to put away your purchases. Just looking at you heated him completely and he snapped the titanium instrument in his grasp in two as if it was a toothpick. You reappeared, gasping at his predicament, blood dripping from his hand.

“Changkyun, you’re bleeding!” you cried, dashing over and he backed off just as fast, pressing himself into the wall. He felt an imprint forming behind him but he didn’t care, watching you to ensure your movement stilled. Looking away to the blood on the table, you went to clean it when he hissed.

“Y/N, leave the lab, now. Go shower and change and I’ll clean this up.”

“But you’re hurt-”

“NOW!” he roared and it was enough for you to back off, turning on your heel and racing towards the exit. He could smell the change in your mood, frightened by him for the first time since he became a vampire. Now out of his sight, he slumped onto the floor, hanging his head.

Nothing could be normal between you as a couple.

The next day you didn’t appear in the lab, and Changkyun didn’t call you down either. He focused on watching over the four slides he had been experimenting with and not on the tears he would hear you shed from upstairs now and then. The weather was still storming outside, the sun nowhere in sight when he left the lab in the afternoon to retrieve a book from his room. Staring at the outside world, he felt compelled to walk out into it, smiling when the rain hit him. His skin didn’t burn or tingle, the sky cloudy enough that this world was safe for him to be out in. He didn’t know how long he walked for or how much he stopped and stared up at the heavens raining upon him, but when he heard your desperate cries behind him, he finally turned, noticing the tears in your eyes.

“Why are you out here?!” you asked, spluttering over your emotions. “Are you okay?!”

“I’m fine! The rain doesn’t hurt at all!”

“Really?” Sniffling back your tears, you stepped closer. “You’re fine?”

“I’m fine. It’s just the sun I can’t be out in!” He laughed, and you grinned, the shared moment easing some of the troubles between you both. You moved until your arms wrapped around his waist, firmly gripping at him so he wouldn’t push you off.

“I don’t want you to leave me,” you told him, pressing into his body further. “I can’t lose you.”

“It’s dangerous around me though, you saw how I was the other day.”

“We’ll figure it out; we’re both pretty good at solving puzzles.” Looking up at him, you squinted against the rain still falling upon you both. Changkyun angled his head enough so that the water didn’t fall onto your face. You beamed. “See, you just solved that problem.”

“You’re stupid for loving me, you know.”

“If it helps you any, I’ve loved you a whole lot longer before you became immortal, Changkyun.”

“Just don’t be like the typical female characters in movies who fawn over their vampire boyfriends like they’re something amazing. I’m still the quirky guy you’ve known since university.”

“I have to get a vampire boyfriend first and that’s been proving rather difficult,” you retorted, scrunching your nose up in disgust. “I basically threw myself at you and you denied me. Guess I’m too human for you now, huh?”

“It’s nothing like that,” he confirmed, cupping your face in his hand gently. “Though I do worry about hurting you.”

“Worse comes to-”

“Don’t finish that sentence; your heart has to keep beating.”

“Why?”

“Because it sounds beautiful,” he told you, leaning down to kiss you. It felt long overdue, the sweetness of your first embrace soon overwhelmed by a hunger that he was certain stemmed more from you than him. He was surprised by your eagerness, allowing you to call how long the kiss lasted. And when you pulled away, you grinned.

“You protect my heart and I’ll do whatever I can to make sure you can walk in the sun again.”

“That sounds like an unfair agreement. Do you know how much control I have to maintain when I’m around you?” he pointed out, taking your hand in his. Then he held up your linked hands and shook them. “I could break your hand right now.”

“You won’t,” you assured with a smile and Changkyun rolled his eyes. “You know, I could work on a way to make you stop existing if you piss me off too much. Scientist, remember?”

“And am I now your biggest subject?”

“I guess you could say that. I need to open up a new case study when we’re back at the lab.”

“What’s it about?”

“How to be a human in love with a vampire,” you told him, smiling demurely. “Reckon I’ll find out all the answers?”

“I’m not sure,” he mused, leaning down to kiss you again. “But you have a lifetime ahead of you to find out.”

_________________

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For sentence prompts: "I'll always be on your team" starker 😊

I’ll Get You Up On Your Feet

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark (Starker) Rating: General (G) Word Count: ~2.5k Notes: I’m not the biggest Noah Cyrus fan, but I thought of her song Team almost instantly. I kind of went from there - I hope you enjoy the cheeky fluffiness, nonnie! Warnings: None, it’s saccharine sweet, y’all.  Summary: 

Tony is used to the media blowing his name up. He’s dealt with it his entire life. Peter, on the other hand, is still adjusting. A nasty comment on a special picture gives Tony insight on Peter that he never had before. 

do the thing, send in all the prompts 

For the most part, Tony didn’t mind being a household name.

A lot of years, his name had a negative connotation connected with it – whether it was because of his weapons industry monopoly or the playboy portion of his notorious nickname, people turned their noses up at his name in the headlines.

His stint in the desert changed not only his perspective, but the general public’s, too. Everyone loved a good sob story, even if it came at the price of a bit of Tony’s sanity and the inherent safety he felt up until that point. Though the Iron Man suit brought him positive notoriety, Tony pursued the good he could do with it for purely selfish reasons. He survived the miserable conditions and all odds bet against him for a reason. That guided his moral compass.

Then, he met Peter Parker. At first, his interests were strictly on Spider-Man and the brilliance that Peter could create when behind the mask. Even in pajamas and pool goggles, he moved marvelously and got the job done without any hesitation. It became abundantly clear that with a good support system, the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man could easily be a hero that the world needed.

Try as he might, Tony did not possess the strength to keep Peter away from the dangerous situations. Besides the fact that they needed the skill and intelligence he possessed, Tony was acutely aware of the truth that Peter did belong amongst them and his youth was not an exclusionary criterion. It couldn’t be – not when Peter understood what it was like to carry the world on his shoulders.

After Thanos, there wasn’t denying anyone’s worth – the entirety of the Avenger’s collective put everything they had into the plan, execution, and inevitable defeat of the biggest foe the world took on to date. From that point on, there was no point in trying to deny anything – especially when it came to Peter. The boy he met in the small apartment in Queens was no longer the youth Tony forced himself to categorize him as. It was easier to think of him as a kid than admit that so many things he saw in Peter were exactly what he was looking for.

Even though the realization came, Tony still felt a little hesitant. He offered Peter a position in his lab that equated to something full time in R&D while he went to school, so they were always around each other. There seemed to always be a power balance between them – one that, when the media got a whiff of, would be the highlight of the story; not the relationship that Tony knew they could have. Though, the more he thought about it, the easier it was to see that any relationship with Peter would be scrutinized – their history together was too deep.

Peter did not have the same qualms, however. Tony noticed the flirting when he first started working in the lab. It wasn’t subtle, though, he didn’t think Peter was trying to be. At 20, Tony remembered the ruthless way he went after the things he wanted – he recognized the hunger for that in Peter’s eyes almost instantly. Tony tried to resist it for as long as he could, but the siren call of a connection that just made sense couldn’t be fought. Especially when, in most circumstances, Tony was a hopeless mess that never picked the right fights.

At least Tony felt the satisfaction of finally making the first move. It was only a matter of time, the two of them were dancing around each other – Tony let himself lean into Peter’s touches more and when the dam broke, he pulled him in by the hips and pressed their lips together so tenderly. Peter’s gasp gave him just enough room to deepen it; and suddenly, the line was crossed.

Most of the people around them took to their relationship pretty easily. Of course, the team had a few reservations about objectivity, but with the way Tony was trying to take a step back from the actual battle part of the Avenger gig, it wasn’t too difficult to reassure everyone that missions would come first. When it was reasonable, at least. Though, Tony didn’t voice that to anyone but Peter. May wasn’t hard to convince once Peter was able to make her understand that the move was recent and that at 20, he was more than capable of making his own choices.

For the sake of actually enjoying things between them without the world’s opinion, Tony and Peter spent the first 2 years of their relationship keeping it on the way down low. They were plenty open in front of the team and around Happy and Pepper who were surprisingly supportive of the whole thing – but in public, Tony tried to keep the dopey smile off his face and worked exceedingly hard not to touch Peter, no matter how much he wanted to.

When Peter graduated college, Tony took things one step further between them and got down on one knee in the comfort of the sleek kitchen of Stark Tower. The dark tungsten of the ring looked good on Peter’s skin and immediately drew media attention when it was in pictures the very next day. It seemed like a good time to finally let the world know about the love that ran so deeply between them.

Of course, Tony’s worst fears showed their ugly head almost immediately. Every media outlet that ever wanted to say something bad about Tony decided to pick apart the entirety of their relationship – starting when Spider-Man joined the Avengers. It was a rough blow to the wall he created around the precious thing between him and Peter. They’d been in the dark hiding for so long, it took him a little while to adjust to the bright light of unrelenting cameras flashing and rumors being created just because.

He figured that letting a news outlet like People take care of the photography for their wedding would calm the craziness down a little bit. The entire thing was understated and highlighted who they were together as a couple. Peter smashed cake in his face, and they ended the night with the cheesiest walk under sparklers that were some of the hardest things to procure out of all the wedding supplies that ended up being necessary.

The photos were beautiful and the write up that went with it actually did justice to the sincerity of the relationship between him and Peter. It took the heat off of them for a little while – the cuteness and novelty of two of the world’s superheroes getting hitched sparked an entirely different discussion than the age different between two consenting adults.

That’s what he thought, anyway.

A couple weeks after coming back from their honeymoon, Tony found Peter on the couch looking at his phone with the grumpiest expression. The ache to rub the crease between his brows away settled in the tip of his fingers, but he ignored it, sitting on the cushion next to him instead. “What’s up, Pete?” Tony asked as he leaned in to press a soft kiss to his husband’s temple.

“Pepper told me not to ever look at the comments when I first joined up, you know?” Peter mumbled, his voice a little hoarse from the obvious emotion coursing through him. The question was rhetorical – that was rule number one when trying to keep ahold of sanity while constantly under public scrutiny. Peter knew that, too – but sometimes desire easily bypassed rational thinking.

“I put up the most beautiful picture from our wedding. The one where you’re gazing at me like I’m the greatest gift to the world. And I forgot – just for a second. That people suck.” Peter shrugged, the defeated gesture making his heart pang.

For the longest time, Peter didn’t want to sit in the limelight – Tony and the rest of the crew did what they could to make sure Peter’s identity remained a secret. It was enough to get him through high school and then another year or two through college before it got too hard to hide. Tony remembered the conversation they had about Peter taking the last step out of the dark vividly – even then, he’d been apprehensive. More than anything, Tony understood the mourning of his private life.

Wrapping his arm around Peter’s shoulder, Tony pulled him tightly against him, the shininess of the ring on Peter’s finger catching his eye – he still got a little giddy thinking about the look on his face when Carol pronounced them husbands. He grabbed up that hand and pressed a kiss to the ring and the knuckles surrounding it.

“It sucks, doesn’t it? Being under the microscope of people that don’t know you or anything about you or your life. The judgement of a populace that only gets news presented to them by people that have an agenda.” He bite down on all the other comparisons that wanted to flow out of his mouth – Peter got the point, he could see it in his eyes.

“What doesn’t suck, though, is the fact that you’re mine. Or the fact that despite what people want to believe, our relationship is built on a foundation that is unshakable and as pure as the carnality of a marriage can be. Fuck them, Pete. If I’ve learned anything, that’s all the really matters. We didn’t save the world to live within it half-assed. I love you. No one gets to take that away from me – or us.”

Peter leaned into him; the frantic nodding of his head felt against the solid part of Tony’s chest. He recognized strong arms circling around his middle, crushing him against Peter in a way that he’d grown familiar with over the years. His husband was so incredibly cognizant of the truth of his statements – Tony could tell by the silence that engulfed them, and the way he merely squeezed him tightly.

“You’re right, Tones. You’re right. It just got under my skin – the way people decided to disregard something that’s so real and pure and honest. I always want to defend you. Your character shouldn’t suffer because love for you came in the package of someone that’s younger. It’s grossly unfair,” Peter retorted, the huff in his breath making his voice come off pouty and the slightest bit childish.

It warmed Tony’s heart.

“Pete, the fact that you’re on my team is more than enough. I’m used to the outlandish things people want to paint me with. You’re all I need. Knowing that you don’t think those things, is the easiest way for me to stay firm and not care about what people think.” Turning a little, Tony grabbed Peter’s cheeks softly, his thumbs tracing the seam of Peter’s lips.

“I’ll always be on your team,” Peter whispered, his lips kissing at Tony’s thumb with every pass of the digit. “I love you, Tony.”

Tony leaned forward and pressed their lips together then, his eyes closing when Peter wrapped his arms around his middle and pulled him in closer. He still needed to go back to the lab and finish the latest experiment they were working on, but in that moment, it felt more important to keep Peter close and enjoy the fact that his husband loved him so damn much. Enough to be offended by the shit people said about him, to want to stand up and defend him for all he’s worth.

The unfortunate truth of the matter was, Peter would have to get used to it – Tony couldn’t escape his past or the fact that the people believed that he owed them a piece of himself. Of course, Tony didn’t need to throw that in his young husband’s face just yet; there’d be more than enough time for that learning lesson. Instead, he let Peter lead them through a deep kiss, their lips kiss swollen when the need to breath pulled them away from each other.

“I love you too, Pete,” Tony muttered against Peter’s lips, “but, I know you knew that already.” He pulled back and tossed Pete a beaming smile. A moment later, an idea slipped across the front of his mind and made the look on his face transform quickly from affection to mischief.

“Want to really say fuck ‘em?” he asked, getting up off the couch and pulling Peter with him.

He walked them down the hallway until they were outside of their bedroom – Peter quirked a brow at him but didn’t say a thing. Tony walked them forward until he was kicking off his shoes and crawling into the middle of the bed. “Come on,” Tony beckoned, his back flat against the mattress and arm spread open wide for Peter to settle in against his chest.

Peter, being the beaming baby that he was, didn’t hesitate to crawl into the space Tony left for him, his face settling into the nook of his husband’s shoulder. Tony wrapped his arm around Peter’s wide shoulders and pulled him close.

Getting his phone out of his pocket took a bit of maneuvering, but he finally did and fucked around with it until the camera was facing them. “Be extra cute, Petey,” Tony said, his voice soft as he lifted the camera above them. Wrapping Peter up and turning his head, Tony snapped a few shots – his thumb hitting the button over and over again.

Greedy hands took his phone from him before Tony could swipe through the different pictures he’d taken. It was all well and good – he and Peter both looked amazing in any pictures they ever took of each other or together. The prints from their wedding they decided to have put up a couple of days ago were proof of that.

A soft rush of air leaving Peter’s lips had Tony looking over, his eyes softening when he saw the picture that Peter was looking at. Tony’s lips were spread in a smile against Peter’s forehead. Peter’s eyes were closed and the expression on his face was absolutely blissful. His hand was on Tony’s cheek where the gleaming wedding ring was abundantly obvious. The natural way they fit together came through in the picture – there was no deny it.

“Put that one up. Force those shitty people to see just how good we are together.”

The vibration in his pocket a little while later had him pulling his phone out. Grinning when he saw the @PeteParkerStark Instagram notification and quickly went about pulling the post up. He closed his eyes and let out a soft sigh when he saw it – the little reminders of why Peter Parker Stark was his husband never failed to blow him away.

There, under the picture they’d just taken, was a caption that read – ‘fuck ‘em <3’.

[cchellacat]

Snapshot

“I hate the way you talk to me, and the way you cut your hair. I hate the way you drive my car. I hate it when you stare. I hate your big dumb combat boots and the way you read my mind. I hate you so much it makes me sick. It even makes me rhyme. I hate it- I hate the way you’re always right. I hate it when you lie. I hate it when you make me laugh; even worse when you make me cry. I hate it when you’re not around, and the fact that you didn’t call, but mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you; not even close; not even a little bit; not even at all.”

This was my prompt for @littledarlinhavefaithinme 10 Things Challenge. Sorry it’s so late my love xx

Wintershock

Bucky/Darcy

18+

“I hate you!”

“No, you don’t”

“Yes, I do....”

Bucky slides out from under the counter, pulling his hair back and snapping the elastic around it.  Darcy stands in the doorway, hands on hips and silently fuming.

“Fine, why do you hate me today Doll?”  He drawls it out, Brooklyn accent thickening as he cocks a brow and gives her a slow grin as he prowls closer to her.

Darcy bites her lip trying to stop the smile from forming, fuck it makes her knees weak when he looks at her like that.

“That, right there, that is why.”

Bucky frowns, consternation clear on his face.

“What?  What did I do?” He reaches out and catches her wrist, tugging her playfully till she falls against his chest.

“Don’t talk to me like that!” She uses the now close proximity to poke his chest ineffectually with one pointed finger.

“Like what?” Bucky rubs his nose to hers before dipping and stealing a fast hard kiss that makes her moan low in her throat, her whole body now molding itself to his.

“Like you know what I look like naked, damn it!” She pushes away from him as he chuckles into her mouth and he lets her go with a reluctant sigh.

Darcy stomps off, cursing under her breath, Bucky is left feeling slightly confused.  To be fair he often feels confused, especially since he started hooking up with Darcy. 

He watches her go, hips swaying and licks his lips...  he does know what she looks like naked, like a god damn fantasy. He’s determined she’ll give in eventually, let him take her out, date her, do things the right way. He knows she’s everything he ever wanted, but he also knows she’s wary of relationships, scared that if she falls for him he’ll just be another one of the jerks who used her and cast her aside when they were done. It drives him crazy the anyone has used her like that because she’s perfect to him in every way.

Bucky steps off the elevator running vibrainium fingers through his hair, it’s shorter than he’s had it since ‘45.  It was strange watching the last of the Winter Soldier fall away as Natalia cut it this morning, like he was shedding his old life, or maybe even reclaiming his first. 

He holds a tray of coffee in his free hand as he searches the labs for Darcy.  It takes him longer than usual to find her, getting stopped by a half dozen people, most of them staring and smiling at him and trying to flirt, at least till they suddenly seemed to realize who they had come onto, then they’d make excuses to get away. 

Darcy finds him before he finds her, the sound of her heels clicking purposefully have him turning to greet her.  He’d know that Staccato rhythm anywhere, she walked with a purpose and vitality that exuded confidence, he’s come to appreciate that little twist of heel in her step, it makes him smile just hearing it. She stops in front of him, scowling.

“I hate you!”

“Doll, you wound me,” he brings a hand to his heart, “I brought you coffee.”

He turns on that old Barnes charm and offers her the tray. The way she eyed him actually had him a little unnerved for a moment and he wants to fidget, she always makes him feel this way, like he’s some bug under a microscope being assessed and judged, but she’s been looking more and more confused with each meeting, like she doesn’t understand why the other shoe hasn’t dropped yet, doesn’t get why he keeps coming back no matter how much she pushes him away.

He smiles anyway, tilts his head, taking in the pretty picture she makes in her black dress, it’s all business today which means she’s got meetings with some of the department heads. His girl practically runs the R&D department, there’s not a project she doesn’t oversee and secure funding for and the scientists love having her around, the place would be a mess without her.

Darcy grabs the coffee and glares half-heartedly, red lips pursed, watching as he runs his hand nervously through his hair again.  She makes a choked noise and bites her lip.

He kept coming back, kept chasing her, she doesn’t understand why, he’s had her, multiple times, it seemed he’d spring up out of nowhere regularly and it wasn’t just for sex.

He kept bringing her flowers and chocolate and... fuck, he always seemed more interested in making her cum than taking care of himself. If she wasn’t careful she’d get her heart broken. She’d been through this too many times before, men always got bored of her, they only wanted her for sex and she’d come to accept that.

She enjoyed sex, I mean why shouldn’t she? It didn’t have to mean anything and sex with Bucky was insanely good, like, ruined her for all other men good.

Then there was the fact that he wanted to talk to her, listen to what she had to say and would laugh at her stories, always asking for more, it made her nervous. He was slowly turning her world upside down with his sincerity, but he seemed determined to wear her down, to convince her to him a chance... maybe it’s time to stop running.

“You cut your hair.”  She stated, shooting a nasty look at Pearl from accounting who sidles past, winking at Bucky as she goes. Darcy reigns in the urge to slap her or make some snippy comment about taking a picture and refocused on Bucky as he shot her a smug smile, damnit. He seemed to know what she was thinking.

“Yeah...  Felt like I needed a change.”

“I hate it.” She sounds less certain this time, eyes filling with heat as she really takes in the change. Jesus Christ, he looked hot. All she wanted to do was run her hands through it, maybe give it a hard tug while his mouth was between her legs. She closes her eyes briefly and tries to think of something else.

“You hate my hair sweetheart?” 

He knows she doesn’t. Sees the way she curls her tiny fists as though holding back from something.

Darcy rolls her eyes and shakes her head, there was no way she was going to let him see that he was finally getting to her. He has that self-satisfied smirk in place like he thinks he’s won something.

“Did you have to cut it like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you just dropped out of a GQ cover shoot, no one is getting any work done, they’re all too busy staring at you.”

Bucky’s lips lift into a crooked grin, she looks cute when she’s flustered, he can see her resisting the urge to run her own fingers through the new cut.

“Here,” He digs in his pocket and brings out a pack of peanut buttercups, holding them just out of reach.

Darcy swears and reaches for them, he holds then above her, teasing her with her favorite treat.

“Bucky!”

“Thought you hated me Doll...”

“Give me the god damn candy Barnes.”

“Give your best guy some sugar, sugar,”

Darcy presses her lips together, stifling a giggle from the cheeky smile he gives her and stands on tiptoe, kissing his lip's quickly. He grins like he just won a prize and drops the treat into her hand, enjoying the childish glee which suffuses her expression. He grabs her hand in his and she follows along beside him right up until he suddenly scoops her up and tucks them both out of sight inside a supply closet.

Twenty minutes later a disheveled Darcy emerges from the closet, her shirt askew and her hair loose from the bun she’s had it swept into earlier. Bucky follows her out, catching her arm and pulling her back in to steal a soft heady kiss before letting her go again.

“Dinner.” Its a demand, not a question.

Darcy bites her lip, eyes bright and finally, after two months of trying to convince her he was serious about them, she nods her head.

“Saturday night, pick me up at seven.”

Bucky whoops and swings her up not caring a bit that half the techs in the labs were staring at them.

He’s got it, a proper date, he’ll plan the whole thing out. He wants to show her how special she is, that he’s not dating her on a whim or to satisfy some carnal itch, she makes him giddy, the way she smiles, how much she cares, she makes him laugh, to him, she’s everything.

“Jesus Bucky!  Not so hard!”

“This damn car’s older than I am.”  he gripes, foot pressed to the floor as he wrenches the wheel again, taking them round a corner at speeds Darcy could have lived without.

“I hate you!  I am never letting you drive my car again!”

“I love you too Sweetheart, now pass me my gun and hold the wheel.”

Darcy shrieks as the hail of gunfire strikes the back window and does as she’s told.  Worst first date ever!

“Would you stop that?”

“Stop what?”

“Staring at me.”

His shoulders rise nearly to his ears as he shrugs uncomfortably and looks away.  The tiny confines of the jet make it hard to put any space between them, which is what Darcy had been trying to do since their clusterfuck of a date two weeks ago.  Every time she got him cornered he ran, he couldn’t now though.

Eyes cast down again she pretends to read her book.  He’d ignored her trying to talk to him when they first boarded, she’d given up trying an hour later when it seemed all she was going to get were noncommittal grunts.

This time only ten minutes pass before she feels the weight of his eyes on her again.

“What?”  The demanding tone ricochets in the tiny compartment like shrapnel.

Blue on blue caught stubbornly as his mouth tightens in a thin line.

“Nothing.”  He finally mutters, looking away, fingers tapping aggravatedly on his thigh.

Darcy slams the book closed and leans forward.

“I-”

“Hate me, I know, I finally got the memo doll.”

“Oh don’t try that bullshit with me, Barnes, seriously, what is your fucking problem?  So what if the date went badly?  You’ve not spoken to me since you left me in medical.”

“You nearly got killed!”

“I know!  I was there!”

“Than why are you trying to talk to me?”

“Because all you’ve done for two weeks is make puppy eyes and run every time I track you down!”

“I nearly got you killed Darce...  I didn’t know what to say.”

Darcy rolls her eyes hard and leans over, pointed finger once again poking his chest.

“You say, let's try that again Darcy, this time without the kidnapping and murder grenades.”

The look of confused surprise is adorable.

“You’d still want to go on a date after we got shot at?”

Darcy throws her hands up and leans back, crossing her arms.

Silence reigns in the compartment, heavy with unspoken words.

“Darce?”

“What?”

“Pick you up at 7 on Friday?”

Darcy’s brow arches, her arms falling as she sighs.

“I hate you.”

“It’s a date.”  he grins before tugging her out of her seat and into his strong arms.  Darcy yelps as she’s moved to straddle hard thighs, her heart racing already in anticipation of what was coming next....namely her.  She smiles as his mouth covers her in a playful teasing kiss and melting into his hold wraps her arms around his neck, relieved to be back where she belonged.

He’s always in her apartment, it feels likes he’s all but moved in permanently.  His books sit on the coffee table, a gun safe takes up a previously empty space under the kitchen counter, there are numerous knick-knacks from around the world he somehow has time to pick up from whatever mission he’s been on recently, littering the surfaces. 

Darcy throws off her jacket and kicks her shoes off, wandering down the hallway to the bedroom.  Just as she enters the room she finds herself suddenly tripping, gravity catching her and hauling her down. 

“Easy sweetheart, I gotcha.”  She’s caught by a warm, wet wall of muscle, her momentum now pressing every inch of her to him.

“Christ on a cracker Bucky, what the hell...” looking down she spies the combat boots that have been left loitering in the entryway to the room.  Where on earth had he come from?

“I didn’t think you’d be home yet doll.”  She takes in the damp hair and naked chest, beads of water still clinging to skin.

“Seriously? Are you trying to kill me?”

“Sorry doll, forgive me?”

A long-suffering sigh escapes her, she’s too tired to tell him off for leaving his boots lying around.

“One condition-”

Before she can complete her demand he produces a bar of chocolate, pressing a kiss to her cheek as he lets her go.

“Okay and I-”

A glass of wine is pressed into her hand like magic.  Darcy squints at his all too innocent expression, mouth opening to-

“’m not a mind reader, just know what my girl needs after a long day.”

“I hate you.” she replies without any ire.

Bucky smirks.

“Love you too Doll.”

She’s never going to live this down, he’s told her a dozen times not to leave without her tracker, telling her she’d get her ass kidnapped.. again.  God, she hates it when he’s right.

The cell is dimly lit, but oddly comfortable considering she’s been kidnapped by what she assumes is probably some previously thought defunct offshoot of Hydra.

Six hours later when the sounds of fighting break out and the thick steel door swings open she’s too thankful to say it out loud.

Bucky strides through the door, murder etched on his face and scoops her up without a word.  Darcy just clings to him, thankful to wait for the lecture on personal safety till later.

He told her he was away on a mission. It’s why when she spots him, she decides to follow him.  He’s meant to be in Egypt, not New York.

He loses her on 5th Avenue and she mutters angrily all the way back to the Tower. 

When he appears the next morning she pretends like nothing happened, like she hadn’t seen him in the city and he acts like he hadn’t lied to her about it. 

Silently she begins to count down the days till his things will surely disappear from her apartment before it’s only him left, the last thing to leave. 

Darcy distracts herself with work and Jane and corralling her merry bunch of mad scientists, putting off the inevitable. 

She’s going to enjoy whatever time they have left.  In the deepest part of her she cries and tries very hard to hate him for the lies.  She thought he was different, she thought he was the one.

Bucky pats his pocket for the fifth time and fidgets in his seat.  The restaurant is half empty and the table service has been terrible.  But it’s the place he’d first met her, although he’s not sure she remembers as they dither over ordering dessert or heading home to raid the freezer for ice cream.

“Have we been here before?”

The sudden question snaps him out of his reverie and he glances across the table.  She’s been subdued lately, but he hasn’t been able to figure out why.

“I was wondering if you’d remember.”

“Remember what?”

“First time I saw you.  I was having lunch here with Steve and Stark.  You blazed in and threw Starks drink in his lap.”

She tilts her head quizzically.

“This is where...  I don’t even remember you being here.”

“We weren’t introduced till the week after, you stormed right back out again after making him sign some papers.”

“Oh..”  Her bottom lip is caught between a flash of white as he rubs his palms over the sides of his thighs.  When she looks away he stands, coming round the table, dropping to one knee.

“Darcy...”

She turns back, eyes widening at his new position and location.

When he reaches into his pocket for the ring she gasps, one hand covering her mouth and the other gripping the tabletop.

With the worst possible timing, a passing waiter trips over Bucky’s foot, sending himself and a tray of food crashing to the ground, leaving Bucky kneeling there, covered in carbonara, mouth half open and a blue velvet ring box in his hand.

He gapes, horrified by the turn of events then closes his eyes.  When he opens them again it’s to the sound and the sight of his girl giggling helplessly, head shaking as she laughs. 

“Omg, your face... baby...  oh my god were you going to propose?”

“What do you mean were, sweet cheeks, this is it, this is my life. I swear to god my Ma must be watching this from heaven and having a fit.  My life's a disaster Darce, but you make everything better. I don’t want to do it without you.  Even if it means getting coffee for breakfast and ice cream for dinner for the next sixty years.  Marry me, Darcy, make me the luckiest son of a bitch in the world.”

She nods her head, still laughing, tears streaming down her face while he struggles to fit the ring on her finger.

“It’s beautiful Buck... when did you even have time to buy it?”

“Took a day a few weeks ago instead of taking the op in Egypt.  Spend it scouring every jewelry store in Manhatten.”

The ring is new, but the design is old.  A princess-cut diamond flanked by garnet petals sparkles in her finger.

A curious expression drifts across her face at his answer and she bites her lip hard before swooping forward and kissing him.

“I hate you,” she whispers lovingly into his mouth.

Warmth spreads in his chest.

“Gonna need you to do that for the rest of my life Doll.”

“Not gonna be a problem soldier.”

They pay and go home to eat ice cream.  A long hot shower later they fall asleep on the couch where they were cuddled up reading to each other. Bucky snuggles her close and throws a blanket over them, thanking every deity he can name for giving him a second chance and her.

The phone is clutched tightly in her hand, the shape of it indented in her skin.  Three days, five hours...  That’s how long she’s been waiting for him to call and tell her he’s okay, that he’s holed up in some safe house or podunk hospital with no internet or cell service.  She taps the glass, checking her call history before swiping and rechecking that the settings are right, the ringer’s on, she’s not on silent or do not disturb...  Grabbing the wire beside her she plugs the phone in to charge, again.  How many times had she done that now? 

The phone rings, some telemarketer, she declines the call, furious that it isn’t him, that it might have stopped his call from connecting. 

Running her hands through her hair she gathers it up, snapping one of Bucky’s hair ties around it in a sloppy bun. 

The quiet of the apartment is getting to her. She stares out the window, watching the silent rush of life sixty stories below.  It doesn’t make sense, how can everything look so normal, how can everyone else still be moving, living?

Cold cups of coffee are scattered around the apartment, keeping company with the small momentoes of their life.  The book he’d been reading to her before he left, her socks left under the coffee table where he’d thrown them after he’d peeled them off her feet, intent on stripping her bare before he’d fucked her into the couch the night before he left.  Her bag and shoes left at the door beside his combat boots, the ones he kept for weekends when he drove his bike upstate, her perched behind him, arms tight and body pressed into the soft leather of the jacket that hung on the peg beside her fluffy cardigan and the Gryfindor scarf she’d knitted for him last Christmas. He was everywhere, in every corner of her life, every crack and crevice, he’d wormed his way in, inch by subtle inch until she couldn’t remember what it felt like before she’d known him. 

The soft wrap of knuckles on wood has her spring from the armchair.  Opening the door the pale face of Natasha Romanoff stares back.  Darcy steps back, silently allowing the women to come in. 

“Why don’t we sit.”  She’s never heard Natasha so quietly calm before.  The other woman is usually three parts snark one part sincerity.  Arms crossed, Darcy stands her ground, shaking her head. 

“Where is he, Natasha?”

The widow tries to place a comforting hand on her arm but she angrily shrugs it away.

“He’s gone Darce...”

She whips round to see Steve framed in the doorway.  He looks wrecked, face bruised and bloodied.  It’s the way he looks at her, his eyes full of silent sorrow and apology that makes her prickle.

“No.”  Darcy doesn't know if she’s denying the words or refusing to accept what he’s saying without speaking, but she shakes her head, futilely repressing the welling panic and grief threatening to overwhelm her.

“I’m so sorry.”

“No,” she snaps, “you don’t get to say that.  He’s not dead.”

“The building was blown up Darcy.  The whole thing collapsed and the fires were raging for over twelve hours...  Even Bucky couldn’t survive that.  We looked for him, no one saw him get out before it went up.  There are no reports of anyone matching his description in any of the medical facilities within a hundred miles of the explosion.  It’s been three days.”

Steve’s begging her to understand but what her heart tells her is that she can not give up on him.  Not yet, not ever. 

Bucky promised he’d come back. He’s never broken a promise to her, he’s not going to start now.

“He’ll come back.  He always does.”  The finality of the statement ends the discussion and both level sympathetic glances at her which she pointedly ignores.

They leave her alone, the apartment door closing quietly as she finally lets her knees fall out from under her.  Bone wrenching sobs burst forth from her lips as her body heaves out her worry and grief. 

“I hate you...  I hate you so much right now...  I hate how much I love you.  You have to come back to me so I can tell you that...”

Whispered words of loss fall around her like ash.  She hates it.  She hates how alone she feels.  Hates that he made her need him.  Hates that when he’s not around it feels as though her world is falling apart. The engagement ring winks mockingly from her finger.  A promise of a life together.  He has to come home, he just has to.

~Six Weeks Later~

“I love you.”

Words spoken into heated skin as pre-dawn light suffuses their bedroom.

He came back, he’s all around her, every inch of him pressing into her.  The affirming sounds of harsh breath, low moans, the symphony of skin against skin as his body slides over hers, fills her with warmth, relief, happiness. 

His hips, safely cradled in hers, his cock buried deep in the tight, silky heat of her leaves him undone and yet complete, grounded, he’s home. 

It’s slow, drawn out.  They make love with each touch and kiss, breath life back into each other with each joining of their bodies. 

Climax closes in for them both, her back arching further, meeting the increased pace of his thrusts as she clings tightly to his shoulders.

His body tenses as the tingling feeling creeps up his spine but he holds back, waiting... When he feels her finally begin to cum, he lets go, her walls clamping around him like a vice as he pounds faster, his hands gripping her ass so he can push deeper and then it hits, not a breath of space between them, bodies shaking and moving through it, his pelvic bone pressed hard on her clit as she gasps his name, her legs tightening around his waist, keeping him locked in place, he couldn’t get away if he wanted to, she was so tightly wrapped around him.  He empties himself inside her, filling her up, some primal satisfaction that she’s full with his seed, that the scent of him will cling to her for days.

The scent of sex and satisfaction lies heavy in the air.

They lie there as the sun rises, bodies replete and at rest as the light slowly fills the room.

“I love you.”  She says it again and he kisses her softly, slowly, burning the memory into both their minds.

“You don’t hate me anymore?”  He asks her lightly and she rolls her eyes, sighing.

“ I hate the way I don’t hate you; not even close; not even a little bit; not even at all, because I never hated you.  I hated that I fell in love so fast.”

“I loved you from the minute I saw you, doll, I’m never going to leave you again, I promise.”

She runs a hand through his hair gently, taking in the sincerity in his eyes.

“You can’t promise that.”

He shushes her with another kiss.

“I told Steve I quit.  No more active duty.”

“Are you serious?”

“Completely.”

“Why?”

“Can’t risk it, not anymore, not when I’ve got you.”

“I’d never ask you to-”

“I know, it’s why I’m doing it.  You deserve to be happy and so do I.”

She’s speechless, but it doesn’t matter, all that does is that she’s not going to lose him again.

“Besides, someone has to keep an eye on you.  You might take over the world if I didn’t. My tiny megalomaniac.”  He teases.

Darcy blushes hotly.  He’s mostly teasing she decides after a moment, after all, she’d taken everyone out of her way to keep the search for him going, even against all the evidence.  If she hadn’t he’d still be rotting inside some Hydra prison cell. 

His eyes crinkle with mirth as he rests his forehead on hers and she wrinkles her nose.

“I hate you.” 

The End.

@omnomsauruswrites   @eurynome827   @loricameback   @southerncross47

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[hayaomiyazaki]

for oscar wilde’s birthday: my favourite quotes from the picture of dorian gray

“Yes; she is a peacock in everything but beauty,” [...]

“Laughter is not at all a bad beginning for a friendship, and it is far the best ending for one,” [...]

“Unconsciously he defines for me the lines of a fresh school, a school that is to have in it all the passion of the romantic spirit, all the perfection of the spirit that is Greek.”

“[...] Without intending it, I have put into it some expression of all this curious artistic idolatry, of which, of course, I have never cared to speak to him. He knows nothing about it. He shall never know anything about it; and I will not bare my soul to their shallow, prying eyes. My heart shall never be put under their microscope.”

Lord Henry went out to the garden, and found Dorian Gray burying his face in the great cool lilac blossoms, feverishly drinking in their perfume as if it has been wine.

“[...] That is one of the great secrets of life—to cure the soul by means of the senses, and the senses by means of the soul. You are a wonderful creation.”

“I wonder who it was defined man as a rational animal. It was the most premature definition ever given.”

His principles were out of date, but there was a good deal to be said for his prejudices.

Talking to him was like playing upon an exquisite violin. He answered to every touch and thrill of the bow. . . . There was something terribly enthralling in the exercise of influence. No other activity was like it. To project one's soul into some gracious form, and let it tarry there for a moment; to hear one's own intellectual views echoed back to one with all the added music of passion and youth; to convey one's temperament into another as though it were a subtle fluid or a strange perfume: there was a real joy in that—perhaps the most satisfying joy left to us in an age so limited and vulgar as our own, an age grossly carnal in its pleasures, and grossly common in its aims. . . . He was a marvelous type [...]

“Perhaps, after all, America has never been discovered,” said Mr. Erskine; “I myself would really say that it had merely been detected.”

“People like you—the wilful sunbeams of life—[...]”

“When one is in love, one always begins by deceiving oneself, and one always ends by deceiving others. That is what the world calls a romance.”

“Most people become bankrupt through having invested too heavily in the prose of life. To have ruined one’s life over poetry is an honor.”

“Our proverbs want rewriting. They were made in winter; and it is summer now; springtime for me, I think—a very dance of blossoms in blue skies.”

“Have you seen her to-day?” asked Lord Henry. Dorian Gray shook his head. “I left her in the forest of Arden. I shall find her in an orchard in Verona.”

The fresh morning air seemed to drive away all his sombre passions. He thought only of Sibyl. A faint echo of his love came back to him. He repeated her name over and over again. The birds that were singing in the dew-drenched garen seemed to be telling the flowers about her.

“One should absorb the color of life, but one should never remember its details. Details are always vulgar.”

“Dorian, from the moment I met you, your personality had the most extraordinary influence over me. I was dominated, soul, brain, and power, by you. You became to me the visible incarnation of that unseen ideal whose memory haunts us artists like an exquisite dream. I worshipped you. I grew jealous of every one to whom you spoke. I wanted to have you all to myself. I was only happy when I was with you. When you were away from me, you were still present in my art. . . . Of course, I never let you know anything about this. It would have been impossible. You would not have understood it. I hardly understood it myself. I only knew that I had seen perfection face to face, and that the world had become wonderful to my eyes— too wonderful, perhaps, for in such mad worships there is peril, the peril of losing them, no less than the peril of keeping them. . . . Weeks and weeks went on, and I grew more and more absorbed in you.”

There seems to him to be something tragic in a friendship so colored by romance.

[...] men feeling a natural instinct of terror about passions and sensations that seem stronger than themselves.

Outside, there is the stirring of birds among the leaves, or the sound of men going forth to their work, or the sigh and sob of the wind coming down from the hills and wandering round the silent house, as though it feared to wake the sleepers and yet must needs call forth Sleep from her purple cave. Veil after veil of thin dusky gauze is lifted, and by degrees the forms and colors of things are restored to them, and we watch the dawn remaking the world in its antique pattern. The wan mirrors get back their mimic life. The flameless tapers stand where we had left them, and beside them lies the half-cut book that we had been studying, or the wired flower that we had worn at the ball, or the letter that we had been afraid to read, or that we had read too often. Nothing seems to us changed. Out of the unreal shadows of the night comes back the real life that we had known. We have to resume it where we had left off, and there steals over us a terrible sense of the necessity for the continuance of energy in the same wearisome round of stereotyped habits, or a wild longing, it may be, that our eyelids might open some morning upon a world that had been refashioned anew in the darkness for our pleasure, a world in which things would have fresh shapes and colors, and be changed, or have other secrets, a world in which the past would have little or no place, or survive, at any rate, in no conscious form of obligation or regret, the remembrance even of joy having its bitterness and the memories of pleasure their pain.

For the canons of good society are, or should be, the same as the canons of art.

“I love scandals about other people, but scandals about myself don’t interest me. They have not got the charm of novelty.”

“My dear fellow, you forget that we are in the native land of the hypocrite.”

[...] Youth smiles without any reason. It is one of its chiefest charms.

He knew in what strange heavens they were suffering, and what dull hells were teaching them the secret of some new joy. They were better off than he was. He was prisoned in thought. Memory, like a horrible malady, was eating his soul away. 

“Romance lives by repetition, and repetition converts an appetite into an art. Besides, each time that one loves is the only time one has ever loved. Difference of object does not alter singleness of passion. It merely intensifies it. We can have in life but one great experience at best, and the secret of life is to reproduce that experience as often as possible.”

“You had better take care. He is very fascinating.” “If he were not, there would be no battle.” “Greek meets Greek, then?” “I am on the side of the Trojans. They fought for a woman.” “They were defeated.”

The dead leaves that were blown against the leaded panes seemed to him like his own wasted resolutions and wild regrets.

“Destiny does not send us heralds. She is too wise or too cruel for that.”

“Look at that great honey-colored moon that hangs in the dusky air. She is waiting for you to charm her, and if you play she will come closer to the earth. You won’t.”

[ilovemesomekillianjones]

You Make Me Better

BASED ON THIS POST by @bleebug and subsequent comments from @thesschesthair and @seethelovelyintheworld Thanks ladies for this inspirational prompt, I had a great time writing this.  Thanks to @laschatzi and @xhookswenchx for read through and beta services!

Also on ao3 and ffnet

CS Neighbors AU where Emma is a nurse and Killian is her definitely-faking-it hypochondriac neighbor who uses illnesses and injuries as an excuse to talk to her.

*~♥~*

Emma had just put her dinner together and sat down on her couch with a nice glass of red wine, and Netflix ready to go. The upside to working in a small private practice was for the first time since attending college, Emma Swan had a somewhat normal schedule. It allowed her peaceful evenings to herself to do what she pleased. Tonight she’d been home from another long day for a mere half an hour and was beyond ready to relax.

“Swan!”

“I should have turned off the goddamn lights,” she muttered.

“Swaaaan!” the interloper persisted, pounding on her door again.

The downside meant a certain pesky neighbor soliciting free medical advice on the regular. Rolling her eyes, she put the television remote and her glass of wine on the coffee table, knowing he wasn’t going to let up.

It wasn’t that she couldn’t be neighborly, but Killian Jones was a menace. The man was a hypochondriac of the worst kind - a fake hypochondriac - some new illness ailing him weekly. She flung her door open just as he was poised to knock again. The breeze it caused carried in his scent, and Emma was olfactorily assaulted by just one of the real reasons Killian Jones drove her crazy.  The next havoc he wreaked on her was the sight waiting before her. Killian Jones, shirtless… again, gingerly propped up against the frame of her door. Last time he’d shown up shirtless he’d insisted that a tiny mosquito bite on his back was a case of the shingles. She wondered if his shirtless visits were nothing more than a chance for him to flaunt his altogether delicious chest: just the right amount of definition and muscle covered by taut skin that pulled as he gesticulated his every word, all overlaid with beautiful black chest hair that descended into a thin trail disappearing under the waistband of his pajama pants.

“Swan, thank the gods you’re here, lass. I need medical assistance.”

And therein was another assault on her senses, that goddamn accent. She could listen to him all day and all night. Sometimes she did listen to him in the middle of the night, when that bastard invaded her dreams.

Looking into his crystalline blue eyes as he spoke to her through perfectly shaped lips, Emma almost didn’t hear his desperate plea for help. Goddammit, get ahold of yourself!  “What is it this time, Jones?” Emma spoke casually, hoping he wouldn’t see how he affected her.  

“I seem to have to have a lump, right about here,” he said, feeling himself up in her entryway. “Ah, there it is.” He grabbed her hand and placed her fingers right above his nipple, then pressed her hand into his skin.

Well, this was one of the five senses he’d yet to affront. He felt delectable under her palm. Emma rolled her eyes at his smirk, trying to curtail the urge to slide her fingers through his chest hair, and maybe even tug on it a little. “I don’t feel anything, Jones.”

“That’s because you’re not hitting quite the right spot, love.” As per usual his tone alluded to a carnality Emma found to be on her mind more than was probably healthy.  He wrapped his hand around her wrist and slid it up a little further along his pectoral. He followed by placing his hand over hers, and kneading them over his warm flesh.

Emma’s breath hitched at his maneuvering, damn him, she thought. “I still don’t feel anything,” she half accused and half groaned. Why was he doing this to her?

“Are you quite sure, Swan,” he asked cheekily, eyebrow arching toward the heavens.

Two could play games. Emma pushed into his chest, then pinched him, hard.  Ignoring his yelp, she continued to push him back farther. “That’s your pectoralis minor muscle, I’m sure it feels the same on the opposite side.”

“You should check just to be sure. Early detection is key,” he pleaded, turning the pout in those baby blues up a notch.

She could feel a blush creeping up her neck again, she wanted to touch his chest more, she wanted to caress it and lick it and- “Your breasts are fine, if you’re unhappy with my medical opinion you should probably see an oncologist. Good Night, Jones.” She’d pushed him back far enough that she could close the door on his menacing ass.

“Fine Swan, but you’ll regret it if you’re the death of me!” he called through the door.

“Doubtful,” she mumbled, sagging against her door; she could hear her own lie in her response.  He looked, sounded, smelled, and felt perfect. The only frontier left unexplored was taste. Emma stomped her foot against the floor as her lusty mind betrayed her, she felt like flailing her arms about in frustration. Yes, Emma Swan was a highly frustrated young woman. There was always something wrong with them, she thought. Of her more serious relationships, one had been ready to get married a month into dating, one had bailed during a pregnancy scare, and the other just hadn’t done anything for her, good man, just no chemistry.  

After finishing her dinner and cleaning up, Emma turned on Netflix. She became increasingly resentful every time she realized she was thinking about him, and not watching her show. God he was hot though, and that accent did things to her insides.  An uncontrollable shiver ran up her spine when she thought about how that chest hair would feel grazing across her breasts.

Killian had seemed to be the full package when she met him. Realizing she was moving in, he’d offered to help her by taking her few boxes of possessions up to her apartment. He had grinned widely when she pushed the elevator button to his floor. As she stopped to unlock the apartment next door to his he’d said, must be fate. He was intelligent, kind, could carry a conversation, and of course he was drop dead gorgeous.

She soon saw a different side of Killian Jones, the hypochondriac. Within her first month living next door he had insisted he was dying from overdosing on children’s Tylenol, the idiot. Blathering on about being scared, and things he still needed to do in life. He’d wanted her to hold him in his final moments, the man was drama incarnate!  She’d never forget the time he’d claimed a broken rib, coming straight from the park where he’d been playing football with friends; he’d shown up, dirty, sweaty, and looking all kinds of fuckable, and of course shirtless. She snorted when she thought of the time he’d wondered if he could have prostate issues...

“I believe I may have an enlarged prostate,” he whispered.

“Why do you think that,” she whispered back, looking out into the hallway to see if there was someone else around. “What’s with all the cloak and dagger?”

“This is a sensitive matter, Swan, I’d have thought you would understand that.”

“Oh, well yes, of course I understand.”

He stood there looking at her, “Well are you going to invite me in or question me out here in the hallway?”

Opening the door, she swept her arm in a grand motion signaling for him to enter.  

He sat down on her couch, looking around at her apartment. She felt like she was under a microscope, her sparse decor a little embarrassing.

“How is it a lass as pretty as yourself doesn’t surround herself in the same beauty?” he asked.

Emma didn’t know how to respond to that, she’d always sucked at receiving compliments. “Umm, I just haven’t had much time to go out and buy home decor and shit.”

“And shit?” he laughed heartily. “Darling, this is your domain, habitat, abode, your home. It should be everything you desire.” He ran his tongue along his lower lip after practically purring the word desire.

Emma found herself staring at his mouth, wondering what that tongue might feel like running across her lower lip. No, Emma!  Shaking away the errant thought, she went back to the matter at hand. “So what’s going on with your prostate, Jones?”

For a moment he looked as though he hadn’t the slightest clue what she was referring to before answering her. “I don’t know, isn’t that what you’re supposed to figure out?” he smirked.

Emma narrowed her eyes, feeling as though he was issuing a challenge.  “Ok, what symptoms are you having? Some of the most common would be the frequent urge to urinate, slow or impeded flow while urinating, and trouble achieving or maintaining an erection. Are you having trouble getting it up?” she asked point blank, staring at him with wide eyes. She mentally high fived herself. That ought to take him down a notch.

“I assure you I am having no issues achieving or maintaining anything,” he answered in a slightly affronted tone. “The Captain always performs.”

Maybe not, was there anything to take him down a notch? “Are you experiencing pressure? Perhaps you need your prostate milked?” she suggested. “I have gloves, are you allergic to latex?”

“Actually, I am feeling much better. I think I’ll be just fine,” he sputtered. He stood up, preparing to make his exit, she assumed.

“Oh, don’t be afraid,” Emma said sweetly, “it shouldn’t hurt, many men find the sensation arousing.” She couldn’t believe herself. Was she taunting him? Teasing him? Flirting? The look on his face was so worth it though, somewhere between shock and well, she wasn’t quite sure.

“I’ll take your word for it, love.” His hand was up behind his ear, rubbing nervously, and she found the motion endearing. “I think I’ll take my leave now. Good night, Swan.”

“Good night!” she replied in a sing song voice. She had felt a small sense of victory. It was always him making her uncomfortable, with his chest on display, and reasons she needed to touch him. She’d finally managed to get to him. An inkling in the back of her mind asked just what game they were playing, but she stuffed it to the far recesses of thought, trying to bask in her victory.

“Fuck,” she muttered, turning off her show, and slamming the remote next to her. Taking a deep drink of her wine, she wished not for the first time that Killian was not her neighbor, but rather some guy in a bar that she could have her way with, and never see again. One simply did not fuck one’s neighbor though. She was pretty sure she read that in the Miss Manners column... or was it Dear Abby?

*~♥~*

After a restless night’s sleep filled with dreams of a cocky, blue eyed pest, Emma finally resolved herself to the fact that there was no more sleep to be had. Looking at her bedside clock she noted that it was only a quarter past seven. Just one more thing she could blame on him. Fucking sleep disturbing asshole.

She got out of bed, threw her hair into a ponytail, and got dressed to take a jog. Nothing like a brisk morning run to clear her mind, blow off steam, and get those endorphins flowing. Putting in her earbuds she headed for the elevator. Pressing the down arrow and humming the melody pumping into her ears, she began to stretch, reaching her joined hands first skyward, than behind her to open up her chest. The elevator doors opened, Emma hopped in and selected ground level. Placing one hand on the back wall of the elevator, she reached behind her and grabbed her foot to stretch out her hamstring, switching to the other she jumped when the elevator finally lurched to life. Standing tall she rotated her torso stretching her back and shoulders. Finally she bent at the waist reaching for her toes, giving her legs one final stretch.  

When the elevator came to a halt she turned around to exit and walked straight into a wall of man. A fucking cocky blue eyed man. His hands had shot around her waist, steadying her as she stumbled backward. Her eyes narrowed in anger as she focused on his face to see a fully entertained expression.

“That’s quite the routine you have there, darling, care to demonstrate for me? I’d hate to pull a muscle.”

Emma’s mouth dropped open. He was shameless. Slapping at his hands she brushed past him to exit the elevator. “You won’t be laughing when you’re in pain because you didn’t prepare properly,” she huffed as she headed for the building exit.  As soon as she hit the street she set a brisk walking pace, focusing on her music and the simplistic purity of an early morning run.  Before she knew it that show off was breezing by her. That ass had the nerve to turn around and blow her a kiss as he jogged backwards. She scowled at him and silently wished he would trip, but more so she wished he didn’t bring out her inner two year old. He turned back around and picked up his pace.  Normally, Emma would walk the first block to warm up a little, but she was not going to let Jones beat her in a foot race.  Stepping it up she was keeping pace with him in no time.  

“So kind of you to join me, Swan,” he smiled as if he’d won a prize.  

She rolled her eyes as she picked up her pace again, leaving him behind. Smiling to herself, she felt a smug sense of accomplishment. She’d been ahead of him for several minutes now, wondering where he was, she chanced a glance behind her.  “What the-”  He’d disappeared. Perhaps he’d given up; for some untold reason that didn’t sit well with Emma. Before she had a moment more to dwell on it, that bastard popped up 30 feet in front of her, now shirtless. “Goddammit,” she cursed, wiping the sweat that was dripping down her brow.

“What are you doing way back there, love?” he called out as he annoyingly jogged backwards again while waving to her.

Growling, she broke into a semi sprint to catch up to him. “Shortcuts will get you nowhere in life, Jones,” she scolded, noting his soaked t-shirt now hanging from the waistband of his shorts.

He just chuckled at her indignant tone, infuriating her even more.  That was how they found themselves in a full on sprint around the local park and back home. As they reached the entrance to the building Emma began to stretch once more, the last thing she needed was to be cramping up for the rest of the weekend.  She ignored the shiver that shot through her body as he watched her unabashedly.

“Good form, Swan,” he complimented in a reverent tone.

“You should stretch too or you’ll be in pain tomorrow,” she recommended as they stepped into the elevator.

“I’ve been doing this long enough to know what my body can take, I’ll be just fine, but your concern for my safety and well-being is touching.”

Emma was zoned out, temporarily entranced by the way his tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip. The final frontier, tasting Jones. She realized he had ceased talking and was smirking at her again. “Yeah, I mean...umm, what?” she asked.

“I said your concern for my safety and well-being is touching,” he repeated slowly, emphasizing his last word. “Wherever did you go, Swan?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Perhaps I would,” he answered with a tinge of hope in his voice.

The elevator doors opened and Emma quickly exited, needing to get away from this exasperating man. “See you later,” she said as she ducked inside her apartment.

Yep, he was an absolute menace, this run had the opposite result of what she’d hoped for. Envisioning the way the sweat glistened upon his body in the morning sun, and remembering the way his muscles and tendons had worked powerfully under his skin, Emma felt that telltale weightless sensation rush through her lower regions. That sensation that only ever ended with Emma satisfying herself and his name on her lips. She groaned as her nipples hardened and her clit began to ache, her panties were as damp as her sweat laden clothes. “Fuck you,” she muttered to her body’s betrayal.

Walking quickly to her bedroom she stripped all of her clothes off and spread herself out on her bed. She could hear Killian’s shower running through her bedroom wall, and the thought of hot water cascading down his body only served to fuel her desperation. Emma brought her hand down to her entrance and ran her fingers through her wetness, whimpering out of sheer need. Stroking her fingers back up, she gently rubbed small tight circles against her clit. The smooth wet glide and the sounds of flesh against flesh worked her higher, her breathing coming in short pants as she pinched lightly at her nipples with her free hand. That’s when she heard it, or rather heard him. She froze, listening for that long drawn out moan again. Sweet mercy, there it was again, Emma began petting herself, new arousal coating her fingers, and fuck if this wasn’t the hottest thing she could remember in forever.  Just the thought of him, cock in hand stroking furiously had her walls fluttering. She was almost there, when he grunted followed by a small shout, she plunged her fingers inside her slippery channel grinding down on her palm. It took just three little thrusts to bring her off, whispering his name over and over again. She struggled to catch her breath, and her hearing was hollowed in one ear. Goddamn that was good, she mused as bliss continued to thrill through her body.  These were the endorphins she’d hoped to release with this morning’s run. Guess all it took was some self love, she thought. Emma’s body felt boneless as she lay relaxed and sated on her bed deciding if she should shower or just bask in the comfort. She’d had her eyes closed for two or three minutes when there was an incessant knocking at her door. She decided to ignore it, she wasn’t expecting anyone on this now decidedly glorious Saturday morning.  

“Swan, please, please, please, open the door,” Killian pleaded.

“Oh fuck!” Emma panicked jumping off her bed. Scurrying to her bathroom she washed her hands thoroughly, threw on her bathrobe and tried to smooth out her hair.  She splashed some water on her face to try and cool herself off, hoping the flush would fade, like immediately. Fuck he’s going to know what I was doing!

“Love, please,” he called out.

“Okay, okay, I’m coming!” The unintentional pun was not lost on her, and she was sure she’d just pinked to another level. Shit! Will he be able to tell by looking at me?

She opened the door slightly and peeked out at his once again shirtless form.  “What?”

“Lovely to see you too, darling,” he grumbled. “I need your help, please let me in.”

“I can’t right now, I need to shower,” she told him, not opening the door any further.

“I need you to relieve this muscular discomfort I’m experiencing.”

Emma’s eyes widened comically, hadn’t he just relieved his own discomfort? “You can take care of that yourself,” she said as she attempted to close the door.

“Emma, please,” he spoke seriously.

She was shocked to hear her actual name come from his mouth, he never used her name. It was always Swan, or some endearment that would’ve made her cringe if anyone else said it.

“Okay, come in.”

“I can hardly walk, would you mind helping me?”

Before she could answer he threw his arm around her shoulder and balanced his weight between her and his right leg. As they hobbled over to the couch she noticed he was not putting any weight on his left leg.

Emma laughed as she realized that her poor stubborn neighbor had a leg cramp. “Told you to stretch,” she chuckled.

“Now is not the time for ‘I told you so’s’ love. I almost died.”

Emma burst into full on laughter, “Calf cramps don’t kill, you’re such a dork!” She bent over him helping him to sit down on the couch. She tensed when she heard him inhaling deeply at her neck. Oh fuck, will he be able to tell by smelling me?

Killian narrowed his eyes. “It wasn’t the cramp that almost killed me. You see, I was in the shower when suddenly this cramp attacked me, almost causing me to fall. Who knows what could’ve happened had I hit my head, or broken my neck or...”

Oh. Dear. God. Emma didn’t hear another word as she blankly sat down at the foot of the couch. Had she really just masturbated to the sounds of her neighbor’s extremely painful leg cramp? She wanted to hide, be swallowed into the cushions of her couch, dissipate into thin air, something, anything to not be right here, right now.  

“Paging Dr. Swan!”

“Oh, sorry. I ummm, okay what do you want me to do?” she asked out of sheer guilt. Not that he knew... but she knew.

“Oh, plenty darling,” he smirked.

“Be serious!” she chided, slapping his leg.

“Oi! That hurt,” he hissed. “For starters how about you don’t hit the patient. Then, could you please use those magical healing hands of yours to massage this cramp away?” he finished sweetly.

Emma looked down at his calf. It really was a doozy of a cramp, she could see the muscle contracting under his skin.

“I don’t mind you staring at me Swan, but I don’t think it’s going to help. Perhaps you could massage and stare?” he suggested.

Emma huffed out a deep sigh and walked away.

“Alright, just the massage then, lass?”

She returned a moment later with a white tube and a pair of gloves.

“I thought we already agreed that I do not need my prostate milked, are you really so anxious?”

Emma didn’t know whether to laugh or slap him again.  “Shut up,” she said lightly, “it’s Arnicare, it’ll help soothe the ache after it has been massaged in well.” She began to put on the gloves.

“No gloves, I’m allergic to latex.”

“Of course you are,” Emma rolled her eyes. He probably said that to all the girls.

Squeezing a small amount of the gel onto her palms she rubbed it around and then set to work on Killian’s calf. She wondered how many places she would get to touch Killian Jones without touching him where she actually wanted to. Head out of the gutter, Emma! She delicately smoothed along the contracting muscle, she could feel as it started to relax a bit. Then she set to work massaging it away.

He moaned as she worked the area, “Gods that feels amazing, darling” he mumbled.

Her eyes went wide, for Christ’s sake that was the same noise he made in the shower. Pain and pleasure sounded the same when elicited from this man’s mouth. She worked the area for a few minutes more increasing pressure slightly until the knot was no longer present. Getting up from the couch she walked to her kitchen to wash her hands, then dug around in her cupboards for a heating pack.

“Heat this up and apply it to your calf for about twenty minutes. It might hurt over the next couple days because it was pulling quite tightly. Just rotate ice and heat, take Ibuprofen if you need to. For my sake, please read the bottle, I wouldn’t want you to risk overdosing on over the counter pain relievers again.” She giggled at his huff of annoyance, and maybe chagrin. “See you later Jones, I gotta shower.”

“Can I be of assistance to you, Swan, it’s only fair I return the favor you know. Love Thy Neighbor and all that,” he winked as he tossed out his suggestive offer.

“I think I can handle it on my own.” Emma rolled her eyes, escorting him to the door. If she rolled her eyes anymore at this man, they might truly get stuck that way.  

“Oh, I’m quite sure you can handle a great many things all on your own, love,” he said, looking her up and down as he ran that goddamn tongue over his bottom lip.

Emma turned what she could only assume was a Guinness Record breaking shade of red, before she pushed him out the door and slammed it shut. He fucking knew.

*~♥~*

Emma was relieved when she didn’t see Killian for a couple days. She needed some time to pretend that he did not know about her Saturday morning solo delight.

Almost a week had passed when she finally heard from him, it was well into her evening when a knock sounded. She was more excited at the prospect of seeing him than she wanted to be.

“I am freezing cold, feel me.”

“Well put on a goddamn shirt to start with,” she said, rolling her eyes at having to voice the most obvious solution.

“I can’t stop shaking. I feel weak, and I am freezing.” He stepped toward her, grasping her hand and placing it on his cheek. “See, I’m dying aren’t I? What is it? Malaria? The Red Death? The Black Plague?” Killian’s voice became more dramatic as he ticked off his ridiculous diagnoses.

“Easy tiger, unless you’ve been traveling out of the country, time traveling to the 14th century, or you’re a storybook character from the mind of Edgar Allen Poe, I think we can safely rule out all of the above.”  He’s from a book alright, straight off the cover a Harlequin romance novel, she thought. Emma realized her hand was still on his cheek and pulled it back, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. She prayed for him not to notice.

“Swan! I am contagious, you’re flush darling, I’ve already infected you!” He bit his bottom lip in feigned alarm. The bastard knew.

Emma rolled her eyes, and walked back inside her apartment. Heading to her kitchen she grabbed the bottle of Tylenol, then walked back to the door where he was waiting patiently. “Here, take two of these-

“And call you in the morning,” he interrupted cheekily.

She couldn’t stop the giggle before it was out of her mouth. What the fuck! she thought, I am not a babbling schoolgirl, I am a grown ass woman. A doctor for fuck’s sake. “Take two of these and you’ll be good as new. In fact take the bottle, and take two pills every 4 to 6 hours. If your fever doesn’t break after 24 hours you should see a doctor.”

“That’s what I am attempting to do. You are a doctor aren’t you?”

Emma couldn’t argue that logic, she supposed she could write him a script if he had something more serious than the common cold. “Fine, let me know if you don’t feel better.” She couldn’t believe the words as they left her mouth, yet she couldn’t deny him her help.

“Aye, Doctor Swan. Thank you for saving my life yet again,” he told her, grabbing her hand to place a gentle kiss to her knuckles.  

*~♥~*

Later that evening she laid in bed letting her mind wander, somehow she just knew that the medicine was not going to help, he would be back. He always came back. She could still feel the tingling of his manicured-to- perfection beard on the palm of her hand, and she imagined what that tingling would feel like between her thighs.

She desperately needed to figure out what was going on. She already knew he wasn’t really a hypochondriac. Did he just enjoy annoying her? Was he teasing her? Flirting? Emma didn’t do long term, so the very thought of him playing the long game was a little intimidating, but she also didn’t hate his antics. She was confused, that was the only thing that was clear. She decided when he came back, because he was magically not cured, she would address this thing going on between them.

*~♥~*

When he didn’t come back the next day, she was a little disappointed that he hadn’t needed her again, and a lot disappointed that she felt disappointment. No attachments, no roots, look out for yourself and you’ll never get hurt, right? she asked herself. Perhaps he actually did just need the Tylenol, and there was no ulterior motive this time.  By the afternoon of the second day she decided she couldn’t wait anymore, anticipation and nerves were eating at her, she needed to address their situation, or whatever it was.

She knocked on his door and waited, when he didn’t answer she decided to take a page out of his book and pounded impatiently, calling his name through the door. The sight that greeted her was not at all what she expected. Killian was covered head to toe, including a plaid robe, and a huge fuzzy blanket wrapped around his head and body, all she could see was his face. His eyes were glossy, his nose was swollen and red, and his lips were very pale.

“Killian, what happened? What’s wrong.”

“I did not get better doctor. I was planning to inform you, but I haven’t felt up to leaving my bed.” His voice was hoarse and he grimaced as he brought his hand up to massage his throat. “It hurts a bit to talk, but I must tell you it is like hearing angels sing to hear you say my name,” he whispered.

“What?”

“You’ve never called me by my first name, lass.”

She rolled her eyes, “You never call me by my first name either, but that’s beside the point right now. I told you to go to the doctor if the fever wasn’t gone after 24 hours!”

“I haven’t left my bed, Emma. It is only your voice that made me drag my arse to the door. And I have in fact used your first name if we are debating the topic.”

She blushed at the emphasis he put on her name, as though it were a sacred word.  One moment she was lost in his eyes, not knowing what to say, and the next moment he was swaying before her. She was able to catch him as he faded in and out of consciousness.

“Have you been taking any medicine? Have you been drinking enough fluids?” Emma asked as she put her hand to his forehead. “Oh shit, you’re burning up!” She supported his weight as best she could and guided him to her apartment. She led him to her bed, and pulled the blankets back, helping him to lay down. She was directly over his chest when he wrapped his arms around her.

“This was a plausible excuse for grabbing me, but next time don’t stand on ceremony. You could’ve had me in your bed ages ago, love.”

“You’re delirious, I’ll be right back,” she told him, not waiting for his rebuttal.

Gathering some washcloths, a bowl, a few bottles of water, and Nyquil, Emma headed back to her patient. She was unsurprised to see he was passed out, sprawled across the whole of her bed, mouth open, and snoring as only someone with a stuffy nose can. Sitting on the side of the bed, she took the opportunity to run her fingers through his hair, brushing it back from his forehead.

“Not exactly how I pictured our first time in bed together,” she mumbled.

He stirred a bit, his body restless, she didn’t want to wake him but he needed fluids and something to take the fever down.  “Killian,” she said softly, she shook his arm a bit.

“What?” he whined. “Let me sleep, I am tired, cold, my head is pounding, and I hurt all over.”

“That’s why I need you to get up and take something for the fever, you’ll feel so much better.” She waved the foil package of liquid gel tabs invitingly.

He made for a comical sight still wrapped up like a peasant woman in the winter, as he struggled to sit up. “Fine.” Petulance was cute on Killian Jones.

She handed him a bottle of water, “Drink up.”

“Give me the bloody pills.”

“Uh, just because you feel like shit doesn’t mean you get to forego manners,” she scolded him. “Drink first, you’re dehydrated.

“Am not,” he argued like a two year old before taking a long drink. “Apologies, give me the bloody pills, please.”

She snorted at his crankiness, handing him the Nyquil. “Lay back down, your fever should break soon. You probably want to sleep through that.”

“I would sleep much better if I had someone to cuddle me. Perhaps a massage again. You healed my cramp. I truly do hurt everywhere,” he smirked, waggling those damn eyebrows.

“Cuddle with your blanket, Jones. You poor delirious dork.”

He scoffed at her refusal, but was out moments later. Emma poured one of the water bottles into the bowl and sponged his head with a cool cloth. She freely admired every facet of his face without fear of being caught drooling. After making a quick call to her favorite nurse - August, to ask for a huge favor, she went to the kitchen to make some chicken noodle soup. Emma didn’t like to brag, but she did love to cook, and would have gone to culinary school had healing people not been in her blood.  Once she had everything simmering she went to go check on him.

“My beautiful Swan, there you are!” Killian said merrily when she peeked in on him.

She chuckled at his exuberance, “Someone is feeling better.” She noticed he’d finally un-burrowed himself, having removed his blanket and pants. Why his pants? Too bad the robe is still on, Emma thought.

Patting the bed beside him quite vigorously he nodded her over, “Come on, love. I have discovered what ails me!”

Emma walked over to the bed and had a seat, “What’s your diagnosis, Dr. Jones?”

“Ooh, like Indiana Jones?”

She just laughed at him again, “Okay, what’s your diagnosis, Indiana Jones?”

“Lovesickness! I’m afraid I’ve no immunity to your charms, love.”

Emma’s eyes went wide, pink rising on her cheeks as she looked anywhere but at him. Focusing on her nightstand she suddenly noticed an object that she had not placed there. “What the fuck?” she held up the offending object.

“That’s me rum flask,” he said jovially, reaching for it.

Emma held it out of his reach. “What are you a pirate? And where did this come from?”

He patted the pocket of his robe proudly indicating where he’d been hiding his treasure. “Aye lass, and I’ve come to steal you away. ‘Tis the only cure for my lovesickness,” he said, serious as could be.

“You’re not supposed to drink alcohol with Nyquil.”

“Why on earth not?” he asked indignantly.

Emma narrowed her eyes at his tone, “Because I said so, and because Dextromethorphan and Ethanol don’t mix well, the combination can make you loopy as fuck and say stupid shit!”

“Oooh, because you said so. Bossy little thing, you are,” he teased.

“Be serious, this can be dangerous, how much did you drink?”

“I can’t be serious, love. I am ‘loopy as fuck and saying stupid shit’,” he quoted her, affecting a perfect American accent.

“Goddammit, Killian, how much?”

“Two sips, I promise Dr. Swan,” he said solemnly.

She was midway into a sigh of relief when he burst into song.

“I take two sips in the morning, I take two sips at night, I take two sips in the afternoon, it makes me feel alright, I take two sips in time of peace, and two in time of war, I take two sips before I take two sips, and then I take two more.”

She stared at him, part of her wanted to crack up at his impromptu remake of Sublime’s Smoke Two Joints, the other part wanted to call her nurse back and add syrup of Ipecac to the list, just to torture this idiot a little bit.

“You know Swan, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I am a full grown man.”

Manchild, Emma thought.

“Every time I’ve come to you it was merely a ploy to garner your attentions, spend time in your vivacious presence.”

His florid words were making her blush again, how could he be so ridiculous one moment, and sweeter than pie the next?

“I do know how much alcohol and Nyquil I can handle, love.”

“You thought you were overdosing on children’s Tylenol-”

“A thinly veiled attempt to speak to my beautiful neighbor,” he cut her off, folding his arms over his chest.

Emma heard the knock on the door that she had been waiting for. “Okay Casanova, you wait here, I’ll be back .”

“Casanova is but a boy. It’s a man you need, Swan.”

Rolling her eyes she went to the door. She’d called her nurse to pick up the things she needed for Killian once she’d realized he might have more than just a common cold.

“Thank you, August, I appreciate you running all this over,” Emma told her nurse, and close friend, August Booth. “I don’t think it’s strep but I want to check, did you grab a test kit?”

“It’s all in there, Emma,” he assured her.

“Alright, thanks again, you’re a lifesaver,” she said, giving him a hug.

“Who is this?” Killian asked, now standing in the hallway.

“I told you I’d be right back,” she sighed. “August, this is my neighbor, Killian. Killian this is-”

“Aye, I’m your neighbor, he’s your August. Perhaps I should be gathering my things. Apologies mate, I didn’t realize-”

“This is August, my colleague,” Emma finished raising her voice above Killian’s.

“Pretty, British, and polite? He’s a keeper, girlfriend,” August winked at Emma. “Dr. Blanchard and Dr. Nolan said they’d split your patients tomorrow. They want you to take the day off, make a long weekend out of it and … I believe they said, play doctor with your hot neighbor.”

Killian’s eyes lit up like Times Square on New Year’s Eve. “So you’ve heard of me?” he asked smugly.

Emma’s eyes went from deer caught in headlights to evil eye as she silently forbade August to admit she’d spilled her hot neighbor stories.

Killian looked between them, one eyebrow raised in question, one side of his bottom lip bit between his teeth, “Come on August, ‘fess up mate.”

August dramatically locked his lips and threw away the key, right before he winked at Killian and nodded his head vigorously.

“I knew it!” Killian claimed in a more than triumphant tone.

Emma gasped in outrage. “We’ve been friends since… like forever, August Booth! You’re on shit detail as soon as I walk into the office Monday morning.”

August bent down as if searching for something, finding his imaginary key he unlocked his lips and asked, “So you’ll take tomorrow off to play doctor then?”

“Ooh, I like him, Swan. Very quick on the uptake.”

Ignoring Killian, Emma put her hands on her hips and scowled at August. “Seriously? Just go, I’ll see you Monday.”

“Yes! Your brother owes me twenty bucks. He said you had no interest in making nice with Tall, Hot, and British over here. Blanchard and I said-”

“Oh my god, August, just go! Now, or I’ll make it two weeks on shit detail!”

“Fine… Mary Margaret was right, you need a good-”

“Don’t fucking say it!” she yelled.

With that August took his leave, hightailing it out the door before Emma literally kicked his ass through it.

“So lass-”

“Go to your room… our roo-, my fucking room, and don’t say another word,” Emma told him without even looking in his direction.

“But what if I’ve mixed too much Ethernet and Dexterwhatsitcalled?”

“You’ll be fine, just go,” she said quietly.

Emma sat down defeatedly at her kitchen table. Outed by her best friend, her willpower and resolve bet against by her sister-in-law. August was surely on his way to rub it in David’s face. Her own brother was going to know she was shacked up with Tall, Hot, and British. Before she could get too worked up her phone chimed with an incoming text.

AB: I did you a favor ♥

ES: Et tu brute

AB: Now who’s the drama queen?

AB: If it makes you feel better, there was no actual bet. It was an attempt to push you in the right direction. You talk about him all the time, you two are like kindergarteners. He may as well pull your pigtails while you kick his shin.

AB: Emma? Did you already run off to take his temperature? Orally or Rectally?

Emma couldn’t help but snort at the text.

ES: Enough, you guys are forgiven. Now leave me alone. I have a patient to treat.

AB: Get it girl!

Emma got up from the table and walked toward her bedroom. She was a grown up and could admit her feelings. He’d admitted his. He might not remember, but maybe he would. When she peeked into her room she was somewhat relieved to see he was asleep again. Since he was snoring open mouthed again, she took the opportunity to swab his throat quickly to run the strep test. As she waited for the results she checked his vitals while he couldn’t tout his innuendos about playing doctor with him. His temperature had come down, and his heart rate and blood pressure were perfect. The test came back negative, so he either had a bitch of a bad cold, or the flu; good thing she’d had her flu shot.

Emma went to get the rest of the supplies from the bag that August had delivered. She put together a tray for him with a bottle Pedialyte, water, cough drops, tylenol, kleenex, and Vick’s rub,  and put it on the nightstand next to him. Grabbing a sticky note she wrote him a quick message to drink the Pedialyte first, then water, and to wake her if he got hungry.  

*~♥~*

Emma woke the next morning to the smell of fresh brewed coffee and the sound of the shower running. Well if he was in the shower, he must feel a little better, right? she mused. She got up off the couch to pour herself a cup of coffee and realized then that it wasn’t the shower but the washing machine running. Wondering what he was washing, she headed to her room. When she opened the door she noticed her bed was stripped bare, and that Killian was nowhere to be found.  She felt her heart squeeze a little, and as she stared at her empty bedroom she mentally berated herself for every hope she’d entertained the night before.  

“Emma-”

“Oh shit!” Emma yelped, clutching her heart. “You scared me to death,” she yelled as she spun  around on Killian. “It’s rude to-” she stopped mid sentence as she took in her truly hot neighbor. His hair was still damp from the shower and hung down over his forehead. He was shirtless as usual, all lean cut muscle, and holy hot hell, all he wore was one of her thin pink towels wrapped around himself. She wanted to reach out and grab him by the waist, caress his hip bones with her thumbs as she clutched onto his sides; follow that thin dark trail of hair with her lips as low as he’d let her.

“To stare?”

“What?” she asked, still in a daze. She could only hope she wasn’t drooling, because she had definitely been caught ogling.

“You were telling me what’s rude, lass.”

“Yeah, what does that have to do with staring?” She felt like she was having a conversation about space time continuum at the moment.

“It’s rude to stare? I’ve no clue where you were going with your sentence,” he explained.

Emma shook her head trying to focus. She was having a hard time thinking about anything other than how much she wanted to be that towel right now.  For fuck’s sake, get ahold of yourself! She blushed as she realized he was making fun of her. “Yes, it is rude to stare, but it is also rude to sneak up on people,” she said softly.

“It was not my intention to sneak up on you, darling. I umm...” his hand shot up to fidget behind his ear. He was cute when he was nervous, and Emma knew he was nervous anytime that hand went to his ear. “I seem to be locked out of my apartment, and I’ve also no clothes as mine are in the wash with the sheets,” he reddened as he spoke. If she wasn’t witnessing this moment herself, Emma would have thought it impossible for Killian Jones to actually experienced bashfulness.

Emma chuckled at the universe’s attempt to even the playing field. “Hold on,” she told him. She walked to the closet and pulled out a duffel bag. “Here. Some of my brother’s clothes are in here. You can borrow whatever you need. There are extra toothbrushes in the bathroom cupboard, too. I’ll call the Super to unlock your place.”

“Don’t you just have another one of those I can borrow?” he asked, gesturing to her pajamas.

Emma looked down and laughed as she imagined Killian in a Jack Sparrow nightie. She walked out leaving him to change. After making the call to get Killian’s apartment unlocked, she grabbed herself another cup of coffee. When she turned around she almost spit out what she’d just sipped. “What the hell are you wearing?”

“You said anything, this lovely number was in the duffel. Not my color?”

“I am fairly certain that belongs to my sister-in-law,” Emma laughed out. “It does bring out the blue in your eyes though,” she flirted. He was a sight to see in Mary Margaret’s paisley halter top, and a pair of David’s sweat pants. “How did you even get that to fit?”

“I am very svelte, Swan. And it is very stretchy,” he said, pulling at the fabric. “I guess I’ll change,” he sighed, walking back to her bedroom. “I’ll just go with this old favorite,” he said as he reemerged… shirtless.

“You are such an exhibitionist,” she joked.

“You’ve no idea, love. Consider yourself lucky I dress at all when I come to your door.”

Her skin burned from the mental image that jumped into her mind. “Does that actually make me lucky?” She couldn’t believe the shameless way the words left her mouth.

He laughed heartily, both eyebrows reaching for the sky, a bit of pink coloring his cheeks again.

“You hungry?” she asked.

“I am starving, lass. I’ve barely eaten anything since I came to your door the other night.”

“No wonder you were so loopy last night,” she rolled her eyes. Going to the fridge she pulled out eggs, bacon, and pancake mix.

“Loopy or not, I meant everything I said last night.”

She turned around to look at him, to gauge the sincerity of his statement.  It did not surprise her to see that there was no sign of deception, no smirk upon his lips. Instead it was just him looking back, waiting for an honest response in return.

“Good.”

The smile that spread across his face, crinkling his eyes at the edges triggered her own happy smile. “You want to make the pancakes or the eggs and bacon?” As they cooked together Emma marveled again at how easy and natural it was to be around him.   

“Since you’re making confessions, how about you tell me which times were made up, and which were real?”

“And just what do I get in return if I spill my nefarious ways?” he asked, suggestively tapping his finger to his lips.

Emma scoffed, “You wish.”

“Aye, love, I do, but if we do not have an accord, perhaps just a confession of your own?”

Emma figured he would ask how she felt about him, and she had already decided she wanted to explore this thing further, so what did she have to lose. “Deal.”

Emma put her hand in Killian’s when he stuck it out to shake on their agreement.  “Alright Jones, ‘fess up.”

“The overdose on children’s Tylenol, fake, my best mate’s son’s medicine, left behind after I watched the little hellion. I didn’t realize that’s what I’d grabbed, I meant to grab at least an adult medicine.”

Emma couldn’t help but laugh at that. And the thought of him willing to watch a friend’s son warmed her heart.  

“Possible broken ribs, fake. Nothing more than an excuse to show up at your door shirtless. Prostate, definitely fake, and an unfortunate choice in illnesses on my part. Although you did put quite the image in my head with your offer to treat me, Swan.” He ducked his head chuckling softly.

“Well, regarding your prostate, I must confess, I did not say anything that is not true,” she grinned devilishly. She relished the way his head shot up, a tinge of blush coloring his cheeks again. “Oh, is your fever coming back Jones? You’re awfully flushed,” she teased him. Emma got up and began clearing away the dishes, and Killian followed suit.  

“You darling, are a little minx. Where was I before you distracted me? Ah, yes, next was my leg cramp after our jog, mostly real, sick with the flu, very real, lovesickness… the realest of them all. My turn!” He had rambled the last few illnesses off at lightning speed.

Emma whirled around in her place where she was depositing the dishes into the sink. “Wait, wait, wait. Mostly real? I felt the cramp. What do you me-”

“Uh-uh, love, my turn. I spilled, now it’s your turn,” Killian said as he sauntered up to her. Reaching around her with both hands, he placed his dishes inside the sink.

God, he smells good. It took sheer force of will to keep from snaking her arms around him to pull him closer, as he crowded her space. She couldn’t help but admire his chest, and torso, and those goddamn hip bones jutting out, calling to her to suck on them. She could feel her insides pulling as the desire to touch and maybe finally taste him coursed through her.

“Swan, where have you gone again, love?”

“I’m right here,” she said, sounding much breathier than she liked. “So what’s your question?” He was like an inferno, still in her space, and he’d rested both hands against the counter on either side of her. Surrounding her.

“What were you doing before I came to your door with my leg cramp?” The bastard had that smirk on his face, and that bottom lip was sucked into his mouth as he softly bit into it, his anticipation was palpable.

She felt dizzy, and hot, and breathless as she debated her choices.  Fuck, this was so not what she expected his question to be.  Her eyes darted nervously between his lips and the floor, and oh my god, what do I say? she panicked internally. “Okay, a kiss then?” she asked, hoping he was open to her negotiation. Before she could even process her next line of defense, his lips were on hers.  

After a moment’s hesitation she was kissing him back. She pulled him flush against her, and as he wrapped his arms around her waist, she threaded her fingers into his hair. She wanted to explore every inch, touch, rub, and hold everything Killian had on display.  There was no sound save for the meeting of their lips, until he moaned… that moan. A sizzling heat flashed through her, and she was pure driven desire. She opened her mouth to him and lightly flicked her tongue against his lips, before licking along the seam. She groaned her approval when he allowed her in. Finally, the last frontier, tasting Jones. And what a delectable treat it was. He lifted her to sit on the edge of the sink, and her legs automatically wrapped around him. It seemed he wanted to explore as much as she did, his hands were caressing her frame, then squeezing her thighs before settling under her nightie, massaging along the heated skin of her back.

Breaking apart to breathe, Emma couldn’t resist asking, “If you can massage this well, why did you need me to massage your leg cramp?”

“Do you really want to play Q&A with me again?” he smiled tauntingly, “I don’t lose.”

“I didn’t even have to try when I renegotiated the terms of our agreement just now,” she bragged as she let her hands wander the expanse of his chest.  

“Did you stop to consider that your reaction was enough to answer my question?” He waggled his eyebrows at her, and a cocky grin took over his ravished lips. “The kiss was an added bonus,” he said huskily, a burning intensity simmered in his eyes as he stared at her, daring her to disagree that he already knew her truth.

“Goddammit,” she muttered, burying her face in the crook of his neck, too mortified to maintain eye contact.

Taking his hands out of her shirt, he brought them both to her cheeks and lifted her head to look at him. “Open your eyes, love.” When she didn’t open her eyes, he kissed her delicately, before bringing his mouth to her ear. He sucked her lobe into his mouth and bit down softly, causing her to moan again. “Would it help, Emma, if I told you I was doing the same thing?” He chuckled at her sharp intake of breath, and the way her eyes popped open.

Emma nodded her head silently, her pupils dilated and she waited for him to continue.

“I couldn’t help myself, love. When I got into the shower all I kept imagining was you jogging, your breasts bouncing, and pert ass on display. Mmmm, the flush of your body, and your ragged breath. I wanted to be the reason you were hot and sweaty, and fuck I was so hard.”

Emma’s breath picked up as she listened to Killian, “Tell me more,” she whispered, flexing her legs around him, pulling him in just that little bit more.

“I knew you were a dirty little thing, Emma Swan,” he murmured, lifting her off the counter he walked them over to the couch.

Emma had to bite down on her lip to keep from crying out when he picked her up, his firmness pressing against her in just the right spot.

Turning around, Killian backed up till his calves hit the couch, then he tapped her thighs, signaling her to put her feet down on the cushions. He sat down then pulled her on top of him to straddle his lap. “Do you want me to tell you how I took myself in hand, wishing it was you?”

The ache between Emma’s thighs was real, and having her legs spread was not helping, there was no friction to be had. Emma busied her hands at his chest, refusing her urge to relieve her own ache.

He was palming her ass, squeezing it, and god if he would just pull my ass to him a little bit I’d be able to grind against him. Fuck even her inner monologue sounded desperate. With what he already knew, she didn’t understand why she was feeling too shy to just rut against him like there was no tomorrow.

“How I couldn’t even keep quiet as I stroked myself to thoughts of you. Thoughts that brought me to completion disappointingly quickly.” He rested his forehead to hers, his voice barely more than a hoarse whisper, his breathing heavy.

Fuck it, she thought as she pushed against him, taking her pleasure.

He grunted as she grinded her hot core over him. “How tense my body was as I came harder than I ever have. Is that what you want me to tell you, Emma?” his voice was deep, thick with want, and he practically growled her name. He grabbed onto her thighs guiding her over his cock.

“Yes,” she sighed, riding him a little faster. She leaned in and caught his lips with hers, sucking hard at his bottom lip. Dipping her tongue inside his mouth, she flicked it against his in tempo with her hips. The feel of his fingertips digging into her thighs was just on the pleasurable side of painful.

“Gods you are gorgeous. You were gorgeous that morning, mussed hair, and that little robe. I could smell your sweet arousal when you helped me to sit down, and that beautiful flush ran all the way down between your breasts as you leaned over me. I wanted to take you right there.”

“I would have let you,” she panted.

Killian threw his head back at her words, just the thought of being inside Emma was enough to propel him to the edge. “You’re going to make me come like this Emma. Like a fucking adolescent, and I don’t even care. Tell me you’re going to come for me.”

“Yes, Killian, for you,” she told him looking into his hooded eyes, “I came for you that morning too, I could hear you in the shower. When I heard you moaning all I could think about was you touching yourself as the hot water rolled down your body. Just the thought of you jerking off had me impossibly wet. When I heard you shout out, I came for you right then.”

“Fucking hell,” he muttered, “that’s it love, let go.”

And just like that Emma fell apart for him, his name on her lips just as it had been with every orgasm since the day she’d met him.

Hearing his name fall from her lips he couldn’t hold out a moment longer, he came hard, groaning out her name.

Emma slumped against him, “God, I needed that.”

“Killian will do,” he laughed.

“Shut up, Jones.” She sat up to kiss him again, “Thank you.”

“For what? That amazing orgasm?”

Emma slapped his chest, “For telling me about… you know,” she trailed off, looking down at her hands splayed over his chest.

“Emma, we just came together, fully clothed, while telling each other about masturbating to thoughts of each other. Why would you get shy now?” He brushed her hair back behind her ears, then tilted her head up. “There is no reason to ever be shy around me.” He slid his hand up from her chin, smoothing his thumb over her cheek, then he pulled her in for another kiss.

Listening to him talk so casually about such intimate things Emma couldn’t help but be enamored. “When you put it that way, yes, it would be pretty stupid for me to be shy about anything. I do have a question though.”

“Ask away, love.”

“How did you fake that cramp? I saw it, I felt it.”

It was Killian’s turn to be embarrassed, as his hand shot up behind his ear and he grinned nervously.

“Oh, look who’s shy now,” she teased.

“Fuck it,” he muttered, “the cramp was real darling. My body tensed up so hard when I came that I actually gave myself a charlie horse.”

Emma giggled, a light cheery thing as she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. He was so right, with what they’d said and done today there wasn’t any reason to ever be embarrassed, about anything. Standing up she held her hand out to him and dragged him off the couch and then down the hall.  Once they were in her bedroom she turned to face him and grabbed both his hands in hers. “In our endeavor to never be embarrassed, and be comfortable and proud about our feelings, I really want to feel you inside me,” she practically purred.

Killian’s response was physical as he hauled her flush against him, wrapping their joined hands behind her back, he kissed her soundly.

The way he pinned her hands behind her back and bucked his hips had her desperate. “Someone’s ready to go,” she murmured, feeling his length against her belly.

“I am always hard for you Emma,” he told her between kisses.

“Maybe I can help you with that.” She pulled her hands from his hold and untied the drawstring on his sweatpants letting them drop to the floor. Stepping back to admire the full picture, she hummed appreciatively at the sight before her, “I see now my fantasies pale in comparison.” His hair was still awry from where she’d raked her fingers through it, giving it a roguish ‘just been ravished’ look. His shoulders were broad, framing a toned torso; as she followed his happy trail she noticed that even his belly button was cute, in fact she wanted to kiss every inch of his taut belly.

“I know I am devilishly handsome, but I am getting quite lonely waiting for you to finish your perusal of my goods. Perhaps it’s my turn?”

Emma raised both hands in the air, giving Killian easy access to strip her bare. “Peruse away.”

Killian lowered her hands placing one on each of his shoulders, “Perhaps I wish to savor the moment as well, love.” Placing his hands on her hips he trailed them up each side of her lean frame. He watched her nipples pebble through her thin nightie as his thumbs stroked the underside of her breasts. Each time he passed his thumbs over her he reached a little higher, teasing her, making her crave the touch she knew was coming. When he finally grazed her nipples she whimpered at the sensation causing his cock to jerk. “I do like it when you make noise,” he told her.

Emma slid her hands down his chest and copied his motions running her thumbs across his nipples, “Does that feel good for a man?” she asked.

“Aye, what you’re doing feels very good,” he told her.

“I need more, Killian, please,” she whispered, then she leaned forward to kiss him, plunging her tongue into his mouth, while continuing to play with his nipples. She could feel new wetness coating her panties as he groaned into her mouth.

“You’re making it difficult for me to take my time, darling.”

“Then don’t.” She reached for his hand and placed it between her thighs, “See what you do to me?”

“You are soaked,” he breathed out as he pressed his hand to her panty covered core. Her answering cry spurred him to action. Grabbing the hem of her nightie he pulled it up and over her head in one fluid motion. “Bloody hell, lass,” he murmured as he took all of her in. He led her to the bed where he laid her out, and climbed over her. He kissed her chastely on the lips, “I’ll be right back.”

“What, where are you going?” she half whined.

Killian kissed a trail along her jaw, and down her throat, stopping to suck on her pulse point.

Emma turned her head to the side for him as he worried her flesh with his teeth. His mouth was magic, sending pulses of heat straight to her core. He continued to move down her body, and when he finally reached her breasts, her nipples were straining for his touch. He suckled one, the warmth and wetness of his mouth making Emma cry out, while he rolled her other expertly between his thumb and middle finger. She held his head to her, not wanting him to release her, but she could feel her arousal coating her thighs, and she couldn’t stand it anymore, she needed to be touched. Reaching her hand down she spread her folds with her fingers and slid her middle finger through her wetness, then ran it back up to her clit. She drew slow circles not needing to get off, just needing a soothing touch. She moaned as the sensation of each of her pleasure points being loved took over her body.

Killian looked up to watch Emma when he heard her, she was a vision, eyes closed, lips parted and panting as she pleasured herself. “As much as I love the sight of you spreading those swollen folds, I want to be the one to take care of you right now.”

Emma jumped, not expecting to hear his voice. She opened her eyes looking a bit chagrined, “I told you I need you,” she told him, still rubbing herself gently.

He pulled her hand to his mouth, sucking her middle finger into his mouth and humming appreciatively. “I have dreamed of tasting you,” he told her as he settled his shoulders between her thighs. Splaying her legs wide, he spread her folds and licked along her core.

“Oh, thank you,” Emma gasped. She placed her hand on the back of his head, grabbing a fistful of hair and tried not to buck too forcefully or push too hard. She didn’t want to smother the poor guy before she’d even experienced his glorious dick, which by all accounts was in need of her worship, if his hips rutting into her mattress were any indication. When she felt his finger circling her entrance she shamelessly canted her hips.

He chuckled at her impatience, then quickly pushed into her, not wanting to tease her too much. He paused when he felt her adjusting to just his digit. He clamped his eyes shut, willing himself to stay calm, because if she felt this tight right now, he couldn’t even fathom how amazing she would feel squeezing his cock. Adding a second finger he picked up his ministrations if for no other reason than his now burning hot desire to bury himself in her balls deep. He pumped his fingers up into her making sure to hit that spot that had her panting praises, all the while steadily caressing her clit with his tongue. He could tell she was getting close as her grip tightened in his hair.

Emma pinched at her nipples with her free hand while she clutched at his hair with the other. She couldn’t help the sounds that she was making, he had her on the edge of bliss. He pulled her right over the edge when he covered her clit with his mouth and sucked with such precision she saw stars. Or maybe it was just those little white spots you see in your vision when you start to black out. Either way it was intense and she was having a hard time catching her breath.

Killian crawled back up to her looking into her dazed eyes, “Told you I’d be right back, darling.” Leaning down he sucked her bottom lip into his mouth, pulling on it. He growled when she attacked, plunging her tongue deep inside his mouth, like she couldn’t get enough of him.

Emma reached around him and grabbed his ass squeezing it, then pushing him down to her center, she guided his shaft through her folds, moaning at the feel of his tip as it passed over her clit. She snaked one hand down between them and gripped him in her warm hand, “Fuck, I can’t wait to feel you Killian.”  

Killian pumped into her hand savoring the wet glide now that she’d coated his cock. “Show me where you want to feel me, love.”

“Right here,” she whispered, lining him up.

“You don’t even know how long I’ve waited for this.”

“Probably for as long as I have. Since I met you,” she told him unabashedly.

He chuckled at her candor, “Aye, you do know then.” He slowly pushed into her just his tip, marveling at her tightness. Killian held back when he heard her hiss, “Does it hurt?”

“Only in the best way.”

Resting his forehead to hers he began to slide in again, “You are so warm, and wet, and fucking tight, gods you are perfect.”

Emma cried out as he drove deeper than she’d ever felt, she reveled in the stretch as she adjusted to his size. Her temporary discomfort subsided as he kissed her through it, and continued to attend to her breasts. Resuming her grip on his ass, she urged him to move. “Show me what you’ve got, Jones.”

His resolve to take things slowly slipped a bit when she prodded him. Pulling out almost completely he lovingly drove home again, testing her readiness. She didn’t wince or tense up this time, and he smiled at her devilishly. He pulled her legs up higher around his waist, then leaned forward and pushed her hair back from her forehead, he wanted to see every expression as he made love to her for the first time.  

Emma praised the impossibly long stroke of each pass as he more than filled her up, telling him how good he felt. She’d never had someone watch her, look into her eyes, the intensity sent a chill through her body. She clutched his biceps as they rolled and flexed with his every thrust. “Harder.” He grunted as he slammed home, grinding against her each time he was fully sheathed. “Yes, just like that, Killian,” she gasped.

The slap of skin, the wet sounds of flesh on flesh, and their small pants, and moans were all that surrounded them. They focused on giving and taking their pleasure and nothing else. He pumped into her harder and faster, willing her to climb that hill with him again. “Fuck Killian, I’m gonna come again. Don’t stop.”

“Yes Emma, let me feel you come all over my cock,” he ground out through gritted teeth.

His words were her undoing, her stomach tensed and her thighs constricted around his waist holding him to her as she worked her clit against him a final time.  The spark of all consuming release that had been building flared hot as quiver after quiver of ecstasy stole through her body. Emma didn’t recognize the low moan spilling from her lips as her body experienced the deepest completion she’d ever been brought to.

The constriction he felt wrapping around his cock was more than he could take, he fucked into her, torn between wanting to draw out this rapture and needing gratification.  

“Come, Killian,” she whispered hoarsely. She threaded one hand into the hair on his chest, and placed the other on his cheek. She watched the pleasure take over his face, meeting him thrust for thrust, wanting to give as good as she’d gotten.

Those two little words set him off, he thrust his hips powerfully, burying deep into her as his release shook his body. “Seven fucking Hells, lass, that was…” he trailed off, unable to verbalize a word worthy enough of the orgasm he’d just had.  He rested his head against her chest, trying to catch his breath. He tried to keep some of his weight off of her, not wanting to crush her, but he was reluctant to move from the haven of her thighs.

“Yeah it was,” she breathed out, knowing exactly what he meant. She cradled his head between her breasts and pushed his matted hair from his forehead. “Lay,” she told him. She inhaled sharply when their combined release spilled from within her as he pulled out, sending a late jolt of pleasure through her lower belly.

Killian acquiesced laying against her, indulging in their post-coital bliss, together. It was not lost on him that she was holding him, taking care of him as she had every time he’d come to her for help, be it real or made up. “Fuck,” he muttered, pushing up and looking at her. “I’m so sorry, love. How could I be so careless.”

Emma pushed herself up on her elbows, clueless as to his sudden mood swing. “What is it?”

“I didn’t... I didn’t use a condom. I’m so sorry, Emma.”

“Killian calm down,” she said, gently running a hand through his hair. She grabbed his arm and wrapped her leg around his to roll him to his back, then straddled his waist. “Listen, I’m on the pill, and I trust you. Plus, I only have latex condoms, and I really don’t want your dick falling off. I can just imagine you at my door crying about penile anaphylactic shock.” She burst out laughing at the offended look on his face. “It’s okay Jones, I’ll take care of you no matter what fake illness you bring to my door.”

“First off, I have never come up with anything that asinine, Swan. And secondly,” he continued no longer sounding insulted, “I have another confession.”

“Oh yeah, and what is that?”

“I’m not allergic to latex.”

“You prick! I knew that was just a line. So long as I’m the only girl you’ve ever used it on, I’ll let it go.”

“Aye, love, I’ve never used that line on anyone else. I just wanted to feel your skin on mine while you massaged me, especially after smelling your heavenly scent that morning.”

Emma leaned down and rubbed her nose to his, “So sweet and dirty all at the same time, I like it.”

Killian looked into her eyes, “Dr. Swan, I do seem to have one more issue,” he said huskily, squeezing her behind.

She smiled at him sweetly, cocking her head, “Tell me all about it,” she murmured.

“Well doctor, I seem to have some swelling, can you help?”

Still straddling his hips, she squeezed her thighs around him playfully. “Where is this swelling?”

Killian canted his hips up and his hardened cock poked her backside.

She chuckled, “Lucky for you I know just the cure.” Pinning his hands above his head and sliding down his body just a little, Emma Swan set about curing her ailing neighbor once more.

*~♥~*

“You know love, it is my turn to ask you a question again,” he mentioned as they sat eating chicken noodle soup.

“I don’t know if I can handle anymore Q&A.”

“I promise darling, this is a simple yes or no question.”

Emma nodded her head for him to go ahead and ask.

“Would you allow me to take you out on a proper date, Emma Swan?”

She laughed loudly, a truly happy laughter. “It’s about fucking time! That’s more along the lines of what I thought you were going to ask the first time.”

“Is that a yes?” he asked with more boyish hope than swagger in his voice.

“Of course! I’m in this for the long haul,” she told him. She felt as if a weight had been lifted as she took that leap of faith.

“Nice to have you along for the ride, Swan,” he winked at her, “the long haul will be so much more fulfilling to traverse with you.

Emma blushed at the sweetness in his words. “Take me to dinner, Jones, I want to hear all about why you thought faking illnesses was a better approach than just talking to me.”

End

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