#Probably sleeps on his back with his arms crossed like he’s already dressed up nice to go to the grave | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

oharaslove · 1 month

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La Playlist

summary: You work at a Blockbuster store in Nueva York. Every day is the same, you daydreaming about a guy to come in and sweep you off your feet. To make you his. Will today be any different?

word count: 5k

tags: Miguel x fem!reader, 90's/early 2000's AU

warnings: PinV, unprotected sex (wrap it up guys!), oral f! receiving. Let me know if there is something else!

song:

youtube

It was just another day in this awful city, Nueva York.

Like always, you woke up thanks to your alarm, went to the bathroom, did your routine, and had breakfast, before getting ready for your job. But not as any other day, you decided to dress cute today, show your figure, look nice. You worked at a Blockbuster, nothing interesting. Not a single man worthy of your attention ever crossed the doors of the store, but something was telling you that today was going to be different.

You picked your best outfit, did your make up and hair and off you were, trying to get on time without messing up your appearance. You were the only working the opening shift, the mornings always being slow, and today wasn’t the exception.

Upon arriving you opened the store and got to work, placing the movies that were returned the previous day on their respective shelves. Once the work was done, you checked the notebook with the movies already on rent and the dates that they were supposed to be returned.

After staring at it for like half an hour you huffed. Can’t this day become any more boring? People came and went on the street, some glancing inside, but never coming in. It wasn’t like they were your knight in shining armor. None of the men walking in front of the glass seemed to catch your eye. Just when I dressed myself up. What a waste of time

You continued staring out the window for a couple minutes, elbow on the counter in front of you, with your chin resting on the palm of your hand.

The summer sun was beginning to enter the store, hitting your face lightly. The warmth spread through your body, lulling you to sleep. Trying to stay awake, you grabbed your mp3, plugged your headphones and began listening to music: La Playlist by Emilia Mernes blasting through your ears making you forget about the world around you.

You closed your eyes, feeling the music. You hummed to the rhythm, losing yourself into it, almost missing the ring of the bell of the door, signalling someone coming in. Almost

That split second could have been the biggest mistake of your life.

Opening your eyes, you expected a normal client, you know, a group of teenagers looking for something fun to watch, a nerd searching for his superhero movies or a woman trying to find a romcom capable of tearing her away from her troubled/awful love life.

What you did not expect was a Greek god entering through that door.

The tall man, with perfect tan skin and brown locks strolled into the store with his hands on his front pockets. He was wearing a black tank top on top of a white one with navy blue jeans. The sun hit his skin perfectly, it reflecting on his huge arms, accentuating his veins.

The longer you looked at him, the more perfect he was. His face was probably sculpted by all the gods combined, creating a perfect structure. High and sharp cheekbones, a beautiful nose and really kissable lips.

The guy nodded your way, acknowledging you, but you were too distracted to notice, daydreaming about all the things you would love him to do to you. The brunette turned his back to you, giving you a perfect view of his huge shoulders, his body built like an inverted triangle.

Oh, how you wished he could lift you up so you could wrap your legs on his tiny waist

You continued admiring him from afar, not even realizing you were biting your lip until you tasted blood. Pull yourself together girl, you thought. It is not everyday that you see a man like this. Time to shine.

Pulling yourself off the counter you tried to fix yourself, tidying your hair, smoothing your top and making sure your skirt was presentable. You took a deep breath, calming yourself, preparing for what you were about to do. You couldn’t mess this up.

You walked silently behind him, aiming not to startle him. He was in the science fiction section. Interesting. He didn’t strike you as the nerd type, but whatever. Your plan wasn’t to engage in conversation, but something else. Something more physical.

Stopping just a few centimeters away from him you couldn’t decide how to call his attention. Should you touch his shoulder? Or was that too much. You didn’t want to scare him off. You decided to go with a softer approach.

You cleared your throat lightly, catching his attention.

The man turned his neck towards you, looking you up and down with a smirk on his face. Oh.

“I was wondering when you were going to come and say hi” he said, the smirk never leaving his face.

His voice was smooth and low, turning your legs into jelly. He turned his whole body towards you, crossing his arms over his chest, making his biceps bulge. Damn, how you wish you could wrap your hands around them and squeeze them.

“Darling?” he asked, staring right into you.

“Oh, I-” you said startled. You didn’t think you were staring at him for that long for him to notice.

In that moment, the most beautiful sound you had ever heard erupted from his mouth. His laugh was like a breath of fresh air. His lips curled upwards, showing his white teeth. You could feel yourself growing hot. Your cheeks burning, your ears, and other parts too, but for entirely different reasons.

“Ay nena,” he began, after calming down. “You are so adorable.”

He reached forward, grabbing your chin between his thumb and index finger. You closed your eyes for a second, trying to calm yourself down and make sense of what he was doing to you. When you opened them back again, his eyes bore into you, a smirk back in his lips. He knew you were his. He had you just where he wanted, and you would let him do anything to you. Anything.

He stepped towards you, making you step back, before he used his other hand to grab your waist, keeping you in place, close to his body.

“Uh uh uh” he taunted. “Don’t run away from me. It is too late for that now.”

You gulped. Oh, the things his voice was doing to you, and he could tell.

His touch was burning you. The skin to skin contact becoming too much, but at the same time not enough. You needed him somewhere else, somewhere you couldn’t reach properly, not even alone in your bedroom, with no one but yourself and your running mind.

You knew he would make you see colors, but you needed to feel it, to sense it. You needed him to touch you, more than he was touching you now.

He inched his face closer, the air coming out of his barely open mouth hitting your face. The cologne he was wearing entering your system, like a drug, making you more obsessed of what you already were.

He stared down at you, running his eyes through your face, enjoying the reaction, the control, he had on you. You couldn’t help but do the same, staring at him through your half lidded eyes, drinking him in, inhaling him, feeling his chest touch yours with every breath he took.

The tension in the room could be cut with a knife, the temperature rising by the second. If neither of you took it to the next level, you feared you could explode.

The man moved the hand that was holding your chin to grasp your neck lightly, leaving his thumb free to run it across your skin. Beginning on your pulse point of your neck, pressing lightly, making a whimper escape your lips, despite your efforts of keeping it in.

His lips curled up, enjoying every little reaction he coaxed out of you. His thumb continued exploring your skin, caressing your cheek and continuing on your bottom lip. His eyes were focused on the trace of his finger, amazed at how your saliva coated his thumb.

The teasing was becoming unbearable, making you act. Gaining courage you grabbed his right wrist, keeping his hand close to your mouth, while licking his thumb, before sucking it between your lips.

For a split second, his smirk fell off his face, eyes opening, amazed and surprised by your actions. His eyes became hungry, darkening. His left hand grasped your waist harder, squeezing your flesh.

You continued sucking his thumb, moving your tongue along it, trying to not break eye contact, daring him to do the next move.

The thrill of getting caught made the situation so much hotter, your mind running with all the places he could take you in, the you *wish* he would take you in.

The man pressed his thumb into your tongue, catching you off guard, making you moan around him, closing your eyes. He used his thumb and index finger to grab your tongue and pull it out of your mouth lightly before moving forward and clashing his lips with yours.

The kiss was messy, hungry, hot. Teeth clashing against teeth, lips moving against lips, tongues fighting for dominance. You moaned into his mouth, the taste of him being exactly how you imagined.

He took the opportunity to enter your mouth, exploring it. His hands moved to your head, keeping it in place. One of his hands was on your neck, putting pressure lightly while the other played with your hair.

Your mind became fussy, the intensity of the kiss pushing all the thoughts out of your head, the only thing on your brain was **him**. Your hands started to wonder, starting at his chest, down to his tone abs and onto his head, playing with his perfect brown locks.

You pressed your body against him, your tits against his firm chest. The action making him moan in your mouth, making you smile.

His hand on your head grabbed a handful of your hair, pulling you backwards, away from his mouth lightly. You both were breathing heavily against each other, mouths still at each other’s reach. Your eyes were closed, not daring to open them, hoping this was only the beginning.

“Nena,” he said, breathlessly.

“Mmm”

“Look at me,” he demanded.

Opening your eyes slowly you were met with his. His hair was messy, thanks to you playing with it, his mouth merely centimeters away from you, looking plump from all the kissing.

You saw his mouth moving, clearly talking to you, but you were too dazed.

He pulled at your hair, making you look straight into his eyes.

“Sweetheart”

“Mmm”

“I said,” he continued. “Is there a better place for us to continue? I would take you right here, but I fear that there are a lot of prying eyes, and I want you all to myself.”

You looked at him with an open mouth, losing the ability to speak. *He wanted to continue*. He looked at you with a smirk on his face.

“Did the baby lose the ability to speak?” he mocked.

“I-” you gulped, your mouth feeling dry all of a sudden. “The-there is a backroom.”

“Good girl.” he smiled. “Show me.”

You nodded at the best of your ability with his grip on your hair. He let you go. The second his touch left your body you missed it, feeling empty.

You stepped back, your hands falling from his chest. Staring at his hungry eyes you could see he was becoming impatient, and so were you.

Carefully, you grabbed his right hand, tugging it towards you, signalling him to follow you. You walked towards the backroom, a million thoughts running through your mind.

You were fucked, you were so fucked. If another client entered those doors and caught you two in this situation, you were fucked. You would lose your job, and probably no other job would take you. But, honestly? Who the fuck cares? This was a once in a lifetime chance.

You had a Greek god behind you, who was willing to make you feel like never before. Among those thoughts were the things he could do to you. Whatever he did, you knew he was going to be good.

You reached the backroom closed door. You put your free hand on it, and looked back at him, making sure he was still there, despite feeling his warmth in the palm of your hand. You locked eyes with the guy, before looking past him to the front door, the fear of getting caught still on you back of your mind.

“Hey,” he said, snapping you out of your thoughts, your eyes staring back at him. “We are fine. I am going to take care of you.”

You wanted to believe him, oh so desperately. You were ready to throw yourself in his arms. The way he affirmed that statement making you feel safe, taken care of.

You smile shyly before nodding and making the final push on the door, opening it.

He let go of your hand, grabbing your waist and urging you into the small room, hurrying into himself before shutting the door, leaving the outside world behind.

“This is much better,” he talked into the darkness, the only source of light being the small gap between the door and the floor and wall. “I wish I could see you better though.” His hand never left your body, caressing the skin of your sides and front, becoming bolder.

Desperately, you tried to find the cord connected to the lamp on the roof. You needed to see him too, you wanted to see him in all his glory. Reaching across the air you grabbed the cord and pulled, the room becoming illuminated instantly.

Smiling, you looked at him, finding him already staring at you. He looked you up and down before licking his lips, the action making you nervous.

He stepped towards you, determination clear in his eyes. You walked back into the table behind you, your back hitting its side, trapping you between it and his body.

“I thought,” he said, grabbing your waist harshly, grasping at your flesh, making you yelp from the sudden action. “I’ve told you not to run away.”

“Am not.” you said, placing the palm of your hands on his chest, pushing back a little to stare at his face.

The man smirked, before pulling you towards him and taking your bottom lip between his, sucking at it, making you moan into his mouth. Both his hands were now exploring your body. Your hips, your waist, your back, your neck, every part of your body was being touched by him, except where you needed him most.

“Siir-” pulling back from the kiss, you whined not knowing his name. *How could you forget to ask that?*

“What’s wrong baby?” he said, caressing your cheek tenderly, far different from the touches he was giving you a few seconds ago while exploring your mouth with his tongue.

“I need you.” you said shyly, scared of meeting his gaze.

“Yeah?” he smirked, his lips brushing against yours, taunting you.

“Mmm” you nodded, not thinking clearly, his smell surrounded you, intoxicating you. The taste of him lingering on your mouth, your brain asking for more, your heart about to explode.

He chuckled, amused by how desperate you were, but so was he, you could feel it.

The man grabbed your neck, pulling you back again against him. His mouth coming in contact with your again messily. Your hands, that were on his chest, surrounded his neck, playing with the hair behind it, twirling, pulling, making him moan in your mouth, giving you the opportunity to explore him with your tongue.

His hands on your body moved to your hips, pulling you up. The sudden movement surprised you, making you bite his bottom lip, making him groan. He placed you on the table, your legs wrapping around his waist, just where they belonged.

He pulled back hissing, a slight cut on his bottom lip, a bit of blood pooling out of it. He touched his lip with his fingers, drawing out some blood.

“Cheeky,” he smirked, before smashing his lips with yours, smiling into the kiss. The taste of blood combined with his made you moan. The friction of your bodies was more intense thanks to the new position. You could feel his hard on brushing against your core with every push and pull of your bodies.

He for sure could feel how wet you were, the only barrier between the front of his jeans and your heat being your panties, thanks to your skirt being pulled up thanks to him.

His hands fell to your legs, massaging your outer upper thighs, squeezing the flesh, teasing you. His kisses moved to the corner of your mouth to your cheek and down to your neck, finding your sweet spot immediately, just as you two were meant to be from the start.

You pulled at his hair, making him groan and grind his body against yours, pulling a moan out of you, his hard on brushing against your clit with every thrust of his hips. His lips sucking at the skin of your neck. You moved your head to the side, leaving him more room.

You were panting now, his touch, his lips, his scent, him, was all you could think of. Your mouth opened and it was becoming difficult to breathe. Your chest rising and falling, as your hardened nipples rubbed against his chest.

His hands moved to your inner legs, inching closer and closer to where you needed him most. You could swear your wetness was spilling out of your panties and onto the wood of the table. You should be embarrassed, but you couldn’t care less.

Getting tired of your neck, the man moved his kisses down the center of your throat to the valley of your breasts. Moving one hand from your thighs to grasp one of your tits, making you arch your back, giving your all to him.

While one of his hands was massaging the skin on your inner thigh, the other was massaging your breast, his thumb caressing your hardened nipple through the material of your top and bra. Moans were spilling left and right from your chest, followed by whines and whimpers begging him to do more, to touch you properly.

“Sir, please.” you whined, out of breath. “Take it off, please.” you begged, shutting your eyes tightly, focusing on the feeling on his hands across your skin.

“Anything you want” he answered, detaching his lips from the skin of your chest, where he had been carefully sucking a hickey.

Straightening himself up, he grabbed the ends of your top, pulling it upwards, signalling you to put your hands up. And so you did, letting him pull the top over your head, leaving behind a layer of clothes between you two.

He groaned, after tossing your top behind, having a clearer look at your chest.

“You are so damn beautiful” he whispered, caressing your new exposed skin with the back of his fingers.

Using both his hands, he pulled the straps of your bra down, giving him access to your naked shoulders. Carefully, he inched closer, giving slight pecks on your skin, moving from your shoulder to your neck, and down to the other shoulder. You shudder, feeling exposed.

You pulled him closer, grabbing the fabric of his tank tops, slipping your hands beneath them, wanting to touch his warm skin. He hissed, feeling the contact of your cold hand compared to the skin of his torso. You could feel the muscles move beneath the palm of your hand, caressing his abs and chest and back again. He got the message, pulling back from your embrace, he grabbed his shirts and took them off, leaving him topless in front of you, in all his glory.

“Like what you see?” he smirked, clearly seeing your wide eyes and open mouth.

You bit your lip, and nodded, a smile creeping its way on your face. He chuckled before attacking your chest again with his lips, sucking the skin on top of your breast between his lips, biting it. You arched your back, the feeling too intense, but not enough.

His hands slipped behind your back, undoing the back of your bra, letting it fall. The cold air hit your chest, your nipples hardening further. Thankfully, the man grasped one tit in each of his big hands, massaging them, keeping them warm, making you moan from the friction.

Not long after, he replaced one of his hands with his lips, sucking your nipple into his mouth. His mouth was warm, the feeling shooting right to your core. You needed him to be down there. You were growing desperate, all the teasing was becoming too much for you to handle. Every second he spent far from your core was torture.

You used your hands to pull his hair, pulling his lips away from your breasts, while also pushing his shoulder down, trying to signal him to go downwards.

He pulled back, smirking, looking up at you smiling like the devil, while you panted, looking at him through half lidded eyes.

He kissed down your stomach, reaching the waistband of your skirt. The man pulled your legs on top of his shoulders, giving him full access to your pussy. Pulling your skirt up, he came in contact with your wet panties. He pulled them to the side, watching the wetness spill into the table. He groaned, delighted by the sight.

He used his fingers to gather as much as he could, before putting them on his mouth and sucking. Closing his eyes he moaned at the taste.

He grabbed your panties, pulling them down your legs, before diving right in into your heat. He took your clit into his mouth, kissing it, sucking, making you see stars. He used his tongue, pushing it and pressing at it.

“Siirr,” you moaned, arching your back, you pushed yourself closer to his mouth, and pressed your head against the wall behind you. You used your hands to keep him there, pulling at his hair, pressing his mouth closer.

He groaned into you, the vibrations making you whimper. He moved downwards, his tongue entering you. His muscle moving with experience, hitting all the right places. Your legs began to shake, your muscles turning into jelly, the pressure on your lower belly becoming stronger and stronger, like a ticking bomb, about to explode.

The man continued to explore your insides, his nose brushing against your clit deliciously, making you grind against him, trying to reach your high.

He pulled back, out of breath, your juices covering his chin, mouth, and nose. He moved his thumb to press circles against your clit, keeping you in that spot, still stimulating you, but not enough to push you over the edge.

“Pleasee,” you begged, wanting him back in your heat.

“Shhh, darling, I got you”

He dived right in, replacing his thumb with his mouth and pushing one finger into your hole, stretching you out. You moaned at the feeling, the pressure on your belly rising. He didn’t give you time to adjust, pushing another finger in, and then another, moving them in and out of you at a fast speed, hitting all the right places.

“Sirr, I-” you began, but you were unable to continue when a moan interrupted you. Your vision became blurry and your legs began to shake. You came around his fingers and onto his mouth, your body aching into him.

You shut your eyes, trying to regain control of your breathing. Panting rapidly you didn’t realize the man had stood up, leaving your heat. Your chest was rising up and down still, but you managed to open your eyes slowly.

Before you, he stood, face covered in your juices, his hard on prominent on his jeans.

“Do you-” you swallowed, still trying to catch your breath. “Do you need help with that, handsome?” you smirked.

He mimicked your expression, walking again between your legs.

“If you are up for it, beba” he said, right in front of your mouth. So close you could almost touch his lips with your own.

You wrapped your legs around his waist again, caging him and your arms around his neck before moving forward and capturing his lips in yours. The taste of yourself on his tongue made you moan, the kiss growing hungrier by the second.

Your nails dug at his back, scratching it. You moved your hands forward, towards his chest, running your nails through his skin, feeling the muscles rippled with every movement. You reached the waistband of his jeans, undoing his belt and the button of his trousers, pulling the zipper down.

While one hand moved towards the back of his head, keeping him close to your mouth, the other went downwards, massaging his dick through his boxers. He groaned into your mouth, making you smile for a split second before biting his bottom lip and pulling it. You moved towards his neck, sucking at it, while your hand wandered into his briefs, tugging at his cock, cupping his balls.

He threw his head back, groaning, giving you a good view of his Adam apple bobbing thanks to his hard swallowing. He grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand out of his pants, before pulling them down completely, letting his dick free, it hitting his lower stomach, once it came out of his boxers.

You stared at it, dumbfounded. His cock bigger than you had imagined, you didn’t know if you would be able to fit it in, but you needed it inside you.

He grabbed his dick, pumping it before putting it in contact with your pussy, spreading your lips with his tips, coating it with your juices. His precum was mixing with yours.

With one hand on the table beside you, he fell forwards, resting his head against yours. Both of you looked downwards, where your bodies were about to connect, watching him move his tip back and forth, and pressing it against your clit.

After teasing for a little more, he positioned himself in front of your hole.

“Are you ready?” He said, looking right into your eyes.

You look back and forth between his eyes, before nodding against him.

At your confirmation, he pushed his tip into your hole, the stretch being too much. You threw your head back, shutting your eyes. You bit your lip, trying not to let a sound out. The man latched at your neck, sucking at it, distracting you from the pain of his dick stretching your walls while entering you.

He grabbed your waist harshly, your walls pulsating and swallowing him in oh so heavenly. You grabbed his shoulders, trying to stay on this Earth, his dick making you see stars, and he wasn’t even all in.

He continued pushing, despite your whimpers and whines, knowing you could handle it. Once your hips were together, you let out a big breath, one you didn’t know you were holding. He lift himself up from your neck, being at eye level with you.

“Mmm, move.” you whined, opening your eyes slightly, looking at him.

He nodded, not being able to talk thanks to your tightness. He used both his hands to grab your waist to keep you in place. He pulled back, a small part of his dick leaving your pussy to be pushed back in again. He repeated the movement a couple of times before finding a steady rhythm.

The only sounds being heard in the room were the slapping of skin against skin and your heavy breathing. His hips grinding into yours, his balls hitting your ass rapidly. The man was pulling all his cock out before pulling it back in with force, hitting your sweet spot every time, making you moan uncontrollably. You scratched his back, trying to sit upright, his movements making you shake and bounce on the table.

Every now and then he would kiss your lips, before going down and kissing your neck and breasts, overstimulating you. His pace was becoming irregular. He was close, and so were you. He pecked your lips, before resting his forehead against yours, his breath hitting your face with every pant. His chest was rising up and down.

“Yes, right there” you moaned, brushing against his.

He groaned. “You-” he whimpered. “You like that?” he continued grinding his hips against yours.

“Yeah” you said, out of breath, nodding.

“Are you coming beba?”

“Mmm”

You shut your eyes, basking the feeling of him inside you, him around you. Just all of him. The pressure on your belly was about to snap again, only this time more intense than before. The man let go of your waist with one of his hands to rub circles on your clit. Your legs wrapped around his waist began to shake, becoming loose. You began to grind against him, chasing your high, your breasts brushing against his chest, your nails digging on his back, your moans getting caught by his kisses.

Just when you were about to come, the bell on top of the door rang and you heard the sound of low battery coming from your mp3.

Snapping your eyes open, you saw the Greek god of a man walking away from the store, after closing the door behind him, making the bell jingle.

You were in the same position as when he had entered; elbow resting on the counter, chin resting on the palm of your hand. Your mp3 had run out of battery, and all the events of this mystery man made you his, lost with it. The only reminder of that man was the wetness between your legs. A heat that you knew you wouldn’t be able to calm down when your shift was finished. Not even when you were under the covers, naked, imagining the man who just left your movie store.

HIII GUYSSS!!! I am so sorry for the unexpected hiatus. Honestly, I was soo sick, I could barely stand up from the bed to eat. Anyway, hope you like this!! It is my first time writing smut, so it might be a little rough on the eyes, sorry there!!

Anyway, I based this on the song I linked above. I really encourage you to listen to it! It is in Spanish, but it is really good!!

I hope that after writing this I can sit down and write Chapter 2 of the Soulmate AU. I promise I will finish it, I won't leave you hanging. I will keep you posted about how it goes.

I hope you enjoyed this!!

Thank you @glaciertea for helping me!!

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vbecker10 · 4 months

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The Dress

Pairing: Loki x female reader (Y/N)

Summary: You buy a new dress and Loki's reaction is better than you could have hoped for.

Warnings: Seeing how close I can get to writing an actual scene where the characters have sex lol they don't quite get there but it's gonna be super close

A/N: I wrote this instead of sleeping...

"Are you ready?" Loki asks from the living area.

"Just a second," you call back from the bedroom as you take a step back from the mirror. You adjust the thin straps on your new dress and smile to yourself. If this works half as well as you think it will, you are in for a fairly long night.

You step out of the bedroom and into the living area, "Okay, I'm ready."

Loki looks up from the couch and stands slowly without saying a word. He walks towards you, his eyes never leaving your dress.

"Y/N, my love," he says in a low voice and you feel goosebumps travel up your exposed arms. "What are you wearing?"

"Oh this?" you hold out your arms and look down then twirl so he can see the whole dress. "I just bought it, what do you think?"

"I think it is the wrong color," his eyes lift to meet yours and he methodically begins to roll up one sleeve on his black dress shirt, then the other.

You look down at your dress then back at him, feigning innocence you say, "I thought it looked stunning in crimson."

"You are playing a dangerous, darling," he warns.

"I just wanted to look nice for our anniversary," you continue to act as if you didn't purposefully buy this dress to provoke him. "You don't like it?" you pout dramatically.

He closes the distance been the two of you and you reach out to adjust his already straight black tie. Looking up at him, you smile but the look in his eyes sends a shiver down your spine. He was right, you were playing a dangerous game but it was too late to turn back now.

Your low heels help make your height difference less of a stretch but you still need to reach a slight bit as you place a kiss lightly on his cheek. "I think we should probably leave now, so we aren't late," you smile and move to go around him and get your purse.

He catches you with his arm around your waist and pulls you back towards him. "You are not leaving this apartment dressed like that," he says in a firm tone.

"But it's the only new dress I have," you cross your arms against your chest.

His hand travels from your waist to your lower back, his fingers trailing lightly over the smooth fabric. "I can fix that," his eyes lock on yours again. As his fingers slowly move up the back of your dress, the material shifts from a vibrant crimson to a deep emerald green, the silver detailing brightens to gold before your eyes.

"Much better," Loki's eyes roam up and down your body.

"So we can go now?" you giggle nervously.

"No," he answers, his hand still resting on your back.

"Why not?" you ask. You should have known you wouldn't have the upper hand in this game for very long.

"Because now I can't decide if I want to tear this dress off of you," you look up into his eyes as his fingers tail down your cheek and hook under your chin. "Or if I want to take you while you are still wearing it."

You feel a smirk slip across your lips and reply, "You could do both."

He smiles, "I think I will."

In an instant his lips are on yours and his hands pull you flush to his body. You kiss him back, running your fingers through his long curls. His fingers grip your hips tightly, he picks you up suddenly causing you to gasp in surprise but he keeps his lips sealed to yours, kissing you deeply. You wrap your legs around him, your heels slipping off your feet at the quick motion. One of your arms remains around his neck while you pull his hair just the way he likes it with your other hand, he bites your lip in response.

Loki carries you back into the bedroom moves to the foot of the bed and drops you carefully onto your back. He looks down at you with a smile and you know you are definitely not making your reservation. Your legs dangle off the edge and you begin to move towards the pillows.

"Come back here,” he chuckles.

He grabs you by your ankles and easily pulls you back to him, you giggle with nervous excitement. Loki kneels on the edge of the bed then he positions himself on top of you. His lips quickly find yours again as you feel his body press you into the soft mattress.

You make quick work of removing his tie and begin to unbutton his shirt as he presses his hips against you. He sits up to pull his shirt off once you finish with his buttons then he kisses you again. Your fingers run up and down his bare back as he kisses down your jaw, neck and collar bones. Your back arches to meet his lips as he kisses every inch of skin on your chest that is exposed by the deep neckline of your now green dress.

He raises his head from your chest and looks up at you, "Happy Anniversary, love."

Before you can respond, his lips return to your skin and his fingers slide up your inner thigh, causing you to moan his name as your eyes close.

I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did 💚💚 Please let me know if you want to be added to my taglist!

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sumsumstrashbin · 11 months

Text

𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐝 ~ 𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐮𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ✧

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 𝟗𝟓𝟎

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐮𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤, 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝, 𝐬𝐦𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝?

𝐚/𝐧: 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐮𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞

─────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────

The venue was packed to the brim with fans waiting to enter and watch the battle of their favourite bands. You had taken a reserved spot at the back of the building, giving you easy access to bypass the crowd. You made your way inside through the back door, winding through swarms of musicians and crew members hurriedly preparing for their time to shine on stage. Your eyes scanned the room, looking for the subject of tonight’s interview: Sirius Black.

You eventually spotted the door you were looking for, labelled with the band’s name. You knocked without hesitation, waiting patiently for someone to answer the door.

“Who is it?” A man inside shouted.

“Y/n L/n!” You answered back, crossing your arms.

You heard hurried footsteps thumping towards the door before it swung open, revealing the very man you were looking for. He leaned on the door frame, a cigarette hanging between his lips. He plucked it out of his mouth, leaning his head back to blow the smoke upwards.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of Miss L/n herself?” He spoke, a cocky smirk spreading across his lips.

“Did your manager not let you know that he had scheduled an interview for you?” You questioned, stepping past him and entering the dressing room.

“My manager? Oh, that guy. We fired him weeks ago.”

“Oh. Well we scheduled it last month, and I paid for this, so.” You stated, pulling your notepad and tape recorder out of your bag.

He shut the door, following you inside. “You paid to talk to me? Well, I’m honoured.”

“It’s my job. And you’re hot shit right now. Anyone would be stupid to pass up an opportunity like this.” You settled on one of the leather couches, setting your tape recorder down on the coffee table next to an ashtray full of extinguished cigarettes.

Sirius grinned with pride, taking the seat directly across from you. “I guess I am pretty hot. So are you.”

“That’s not what I meant.” You defended, flipping your notepad open to an empty page.

“But it’s what I meant.” He took another drag from his cigarette, this time not bothering to blow it away from your face. From the look on his face, it seemed like pushing your buttons was bringing him great pleasure. After a moment, he continued. “Alright, I’ll play nicely. Go ahead and ask your little questions.”

You nodded, clearing your throat and starting the recording. “As you know, I’ve already interviewed your bandmates before, so today’s questions will really focus on you. My first question is about the latest album you guys put out. What was the inspiration behind it?”

Sirius leaned back in his seat, resting an arm on the back of the sofa. “I mean, at first we were just fucking around, Writing random shit, as you can probably tell. Some of the songs were purely nonsense. Later in the album is when the lyrics actually mean something. It’s really just about life. Ups and downs, highs and lows. Things that we’ve experienced in our lives, things that we want out of life. We did a lot of collaborating on the lyrics for this one. Usually Remus and I take the lead with the songwriting.”

You jotted down his response, nodding along with his words. “What song would you say is your favourite on the album, and why?”

“If I had to pick, I love Midnight Melody. It literally came to me one night while I was sleeping, and I woke up and wrote it right away. It’s really about reminiscing on past relationships, which is pretty obvious. I’m not the best at hiding messages between the lines, so they’re pretty blatant.”

You continued to conduct the interview, asking him more about what he has planned for the future and other things about his music. Towards the end of the interview, he had succeeded in loosening you up, even sharing a laugh with you a few times.

“You’ve got quite the reputation, Sirius. What’s the wildest thing you’ve done?” You questioned, leaning in with anticipation.

Sirius chuckled, also leaning forward to lock eyes with you. “Oh, darling, you don’t want to know. I’m sure you know that some stories are better left untold.” His voice was low yet confident, sending chills down your spine.

“Come on, Sirius. I’m sure everyone is dying to know.” You responded with a sly smile, hoping that he’d give in.

He shook his head, putting his cigarette out in the crystal ashtray between the two of you. “That’s all you’ll get out of me for today, Y/n. If you want more information, you’ll have to come see me after the show. Without the recorder.”

The tension in the air was suffocating, and his fixated gaze on you was making it hard to say no. Especially when he kept glancing down at your lips as he awaited your answer.

“I might just take you up on that offer.” You spoke after a moment, shutting off the recorder.

His grin widened as he watched you pack your things into your bag, heading for the door. He caught your wrist, drawing you back to him. “I’ll be waiting for you, Y/n. Right here, after the show.”

In the moment the interview felt so far behind you, as if it was a distant memory. Right now, all you could focus on was the way he was looking down at you, a glint of lust in his eyes.

“I’ll be here. Just make sure your bandmates aren't.”

“Oh, I’ll make sure of it, sweetheart. And look.” He let go of your wrist, gesturing to the doorknob. “Lucky for us, the door locks.”

─────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────

#sirius black #sirius orion black #marauders #sirius x reader #sirius black x reader #sirius x y/n #sirius black x y/n #rockstar sirius #sirius black au #sirius oneshot #sirius black oneshot #sirius black imagine #rockstar bf #rockstar sirius black #rockstar!sirius #padfoot #sirius imagine

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kjd55 · 1 year

Text

strawberry-scented body wash

in which rafe shows up on your doorstep, soaked from the storm outside, and stays over. things get a little heated.

content warnings: finger sucking, making out, rafe being unrafe-like and actually kinda nice?? bad writing?? i haven’t posted on here in over a year so i am rusty lol also this is unedited but enjoy

a knock on the door downstairs has you groaning and pushing away from the desk you’ve been seated at the last few hours, chipping away at the homework you’d been neglecting this week.

with final exams around the corner and college applications already sent, you were doing your best at fighting the infamous senioritis, albeit not doing a great job.

jumping down the stairs to get to the door as quick as you could, you shouted a “coming!” from your spot halfway down the steps.

you weren’t expecting anyone over, and when you finally open the door to find a soaking wet rafe cameron standing on your doormat, rain splattering onto your floor from the unexpected weather, you grabbed his wrist to pull him inside, desperate to keep the floors and more specifically, your socks, as dry as possible.

“what are you doing here?” you ask awkwardly once you’d shut the door. as much as you hate to admit it, you’ve had a crush on your best friends brother for a while. which sounds ridiculous, considering the fact that he loathes you, and your entire existence, for some reason.

he tucks his bottom lip into his mouth, glancing up at the ceiling, either in embarrassment or annoyance. probably both, and mutters, “my car broke down, and it’s literally pouring outside and uh..” he rubs the side of his face, another indication of his indignation, “well, you’re the only person i know around here and i was wondering if i could like…”

“stay here until the weather gets better?” you sigh, noting the hair matted to his forehead as he nods. “sure,” you reply, watching his shoulders sag in relief, “but only if you change your clothes, because you’re dripping wet.”

you turn around, silently cursing at the way you said those last few words. your cheeks grow hot when rafe snickers, catching onto it too.

not checking to ensure that he’s following you, you make your way back up the stairs, “i have something for you to wear.”

you don’t look at him as you hand him a hoodie and pair of sweatpants from your wardrobe, hoping he doesn’t see how flustered you are.

from the corner of your vision though, you see his eyebrows flick up. “there are literally my clothes,” he chuckles, and you want to die of embarrassment. you hope he doesn’t notice the fact that’d you’d picked them from the top of the pile. (they’re comfy to sleep in, okay?) “these are from when you threw up on yourself at that one bonfire and sarah made me give you my—“

“yes! yes, i remember, it was mortifying. i think about it too often,” you blurt, finally facing him and crossing your arms over each other, trying to make yourself as small as you feel. “my bathroom is over there,” you point towards a door behind your shoulder, “get dressed, ‘cus you smell.”

he says nothing, settling for rolling his eyes while walking towards the bathroom, and shuts the k door. you ignore how there was a subtle shine when he’d realized you still wore his clothes.

you settle on trying to finish your homework, and while you do, you hear your shower turn on. good, you think, knowing you’ll have more time to focus instead of bickering with him. still , you swallow a lump in your throat at the thought of rafe in your shower, and squeeze your eyes shut. stop being a perv.

after about 15 minutes, a few after the water was turned off, the door cracks open, and you glance over to find rafe make his way to you, wearing the sweats, and of course, no hoodie. you again focus on your work, but you feel as he leans himself over your chair and watch as you complete calculus questions.

you can’t concentrate, feeling the heat radiate off him, him arms on either side of your preifereal vision, and you groan, “do you mind— hey!” you whip your head over, and glare at the man towering over you, “did you use my body wash?!”

a corner of his lips tilt up, amused, and he shrugs. “so what if i did? also there wasn’t much left, so you’ll probably need to go buy more later.”

you scoff, knowing there was at least enough to last you until the end of the week (it was a monday). smelling the strawberry scent wafting off him, you stand, leaning against the front of your desk to try and close of the large gap in height between the two of you.

you regret this immediately, because now you have no choice but to make eye contact, and the look he gives you is scathing. your cheeks grow hot at the lazy look he gives you, your faces less than an inch apart.

you wet your bottom lip, which is suddenly dry, and his eyes flick down, watching almost predatorily as you try to tuck your bottom lip away from his gaze.

this always seemed to happen with the blond, anytime you were alone together, which was not often (for this exact reason), tension was always a third factor. you’d met him three years ago, when you’d gone to sarah’s for the first time and saw him, instantly growing a bedrudging crush on him.

you remember one night, where you were alone in the kitchen about a year and a half ago, when you’d been hoping to grab a glass of water before bed, and realized rafe was already in there.

he’d been on the other side of the room, and you tried to ignore his presence, with it being late, and not wanting to try to act normal in his vicinity (something that took too much energy out of you), you opened the cabinet with all the glasses.

embarrassment warned your skin when you’d realized there was nothing within reach, but before you’d have to ask, you’d felt rafe’s presence warm your back. he’d pressed a hand for ‘support’ (you know he was trying to tease you), and reached up to grab one for you. “you need to grow a little taller,” his voice rasped in your ear, sliding that damn hand to your waist, and squeezing a little.

you hadn’t realized you were holding your breath until he’d stepped away, you instantly feeling cold, at the loss of warmth, and shakily filled that glass, turning away to go back to sarah’s room.

remembering that time, and the situation you were in now, you grow hot under his stare, and instead decide to grow a pair and examine him. maybe try and make him squirm like he did to you, so easily.

starting with the apples of his cheeks, you noted a very faint littering freckles, only a few, that carried onto his nose.

unconsciously, you follow the urge to look back up to his eyes. if you were in a sound state of mind, you’d feel nervous. but with the way his eyes were half-lidded, eye lashes drooping so prettily, you couldn’t help but raise a hand to one of those lightly freckled cheeks.

his eyes widen ever so slightly at the unexpected move, and he swallows, shifting his body a bit. you know you’ve leaned closer to him, your noses only inches apart, but you wait to see what he’ll do.

you can’t help the feeling deep down that he’ll reject you. maybe you’re just another girl in his endless supply. you suppress that rational part of your brain, the one that’s been leading your thought process for too long. it’s not like you’ve ever seen a girl around him, not even at parties. if they’d ever tried talking to him, he’d shrug them off.

you feel his scorching touch where he grabs hold of your waist, pulling you a little closer, and a gust of air escapes you when you feel a thumb caress the underside of your ribs.

you stand there for a few seconds, really looking at each other. no one’s said anything for a while, but you don’t care. you don’t think anything rational would come out of your mouth anyway.

one of his hands creeps up, along your arm, up your neck, and holds your cheek now, too. he traces the shape of your bottom lip, and by accident, a noise meekly escapes your throat at the touch. his pupils dilate more, if that’s even possible, and he taps your lip with his thumb.

you realize there’s only one thing you could do right now, and hesitantly open your mouth. he slides that thumb in, and when you close your lips around it, he groans, watching your half lidded eyes as you begin to suck.

after a minute, he removed his thumb, and you don’t even have time to react before he’s smashing his lips against yours.

it isn’t a gentle kiss, by any means. it’s harsh, unforgiving, and so rafe. he takes control of every movement, and your grateful because you can barely function, so turned on by the entirety of what is happening right now.

your arms wrap around his neck, an attempt to deepen the kiss, if that were even possible, and you feel his tongue lightly trace your lip. you moan, into his mouth, and his hold on you tightens.

you feel so good right now, so wrapped in his presence. even though he just used your body wash, you can still smell him, that unmistakable scent overpowering the artificial strawberries.

he finally breaks away, lips puffy and wet, and watches you gasp for air. he smirks, satisfied with himself, and at the fact that he’s done the thing he’s been wanting do to for three years, and hopes that you’ll let him do it again.

#rafe cameron #outer banks #obx 3 #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x reader #x reader #obx x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe x reader #rafe x you #rafe x y/n #outerbanks x you #outer banks fanfiction #confession

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chronicbeans · 5 months

Text

Dead Plate (Haunted AU) x Reader (Part 1)

Training time!

Prologue, Part 1

TW: None

You wake up in a cold sweat. You don't remember it, but you are pretty sure you had a nightmare of some kind. You look to your clock, seeing that it's 3 in the morning. You sigh shakily, knowing that you don't have any time to try to go back to sleep. You beat your alarm by a whole hour, but you know that if you fall asleep again, you'd probably sleep through it.

You quickly take a small shower, before having some cheap cereal for breakfast. Then, you brush your hair and put on a nice outfit. You may not have the best first impression of your boss, but you want to make a good first impression on him! Plus, you don't have your uniform, yet... so, you might as well dress nice to give yourself some confidence.

After getting dressed, you hear the harsh noise of your alarm, screaming at you that it's 4. Sighing in disdain, you realize that you're stuck waiting for thirty minutes with nothing to do. You've already gone through your morning routine... though, you should set your alarm for 3:30 next time, since it took you longer than expected.

Looking out your window, you see that it's still dark out, as to be expected. It's not only early in the morning, but it's also winter... Man, you really don't like driving in the winter. Screw it, you're heading to work early, just so you don't have to spend thirty minutes dreading the drive. You put on a light coat, which is your only coat, then head to your car.

You arrive around 4:30, only for you to be hit with the sudden realization that you might've arrived too early. What if the doors are still locked? Heading out of your car, you march on up to the doors of La Gueule De Saturne, ready to knock on the doors-

You yelp, startled as they open before you can even knock on them. Looking up, you see a ghostly pale man with black hair and tired eyes. He looks expressionless, or as close as you've seen to expressionless on somebody before, at least. His eyes are locked onto you, as he speaks in a familiar voice.

"You're rather early... You must be the new waiter I hired." "Oh! Um... yes! I'm (Y/N) (L/N)." "Come in, then. Since you're early, we can start your training early." Damn it. You hoped he'd give you some time to rest... then again, this is a job. You follow him inside, looking around the main area.

It looks very lavish, if not a bit bleak. Greys, beiges, and white make the main colors of the dining area, with splashes of red velvet here and there. There's four tables with two seats each, two booths with four seats, and... two tables with one seat? You've never seen any restaurants with tables for one, before. Maybe a few cafés, but not full-blown restaurants.

Suddenly, Vincent points to a wall of the dining room, speaking in a slightly stern voice. "There is the partition window. When customers orders are ready, they'll be set on the counter there. Grab them and serve them to the correct guests." You follow where he's pointing, quickly spotting the partition window. Before you can comment on it, he points to the register. Wait... you're going to be working everything out front, aren't you?! You didn't sigh up for this!

"You're going to also seat the guests, as well as collect the money they pay for there meals. You'll earn tips. Make sure the customers like you, because they'll tip you higher. That, and you're the only waiter here." You stammer a bit at that, looking more than a little shocked. You don't argue, though. You want this job... You need this job. You aren't going to risk it. "Alright, Chef Charbonneau."

You turns to face you, again... He then crosses his arms, looking at you with a serious expression. "You better be good at your job. You are already making a better impression than the last waiter, but that doesn't mean you won't be able to let me down. I'm very strict, and have high standards."

You nod, looking back to him. There's an awkward silence, before he sighs and looks to the side. "You know you can talk to me, right? I may be strict, but I'm not a drill sergeant." You quickly nod, again, stammering. "Oh, yes! I just uh... I'm not the best at making conversation." He chuckles halfheartedly, before sighing.

Smiling, you are about to continue, before he cuts you off. "If you need anything, I'll be in the kitchen. The doors to the kitchen are over there." Vincent then points behind him, before continuing. "You can talk to me whenever you need something."

You look to the kitchen doors... seeing a small tuft of orange hair peeking from behind the circular window. It's probably one of the chefs. You look back to Vincent, nodding again. "Alright, Chef Charbonneau. What should I do while I wait for the bistro to open?"

His dark, tired eyes trail up to a clock nearby, causing your own (E/C) ones to follow. It's 5, now, so you have an hour. "Familiarize yourself with this room until then. I'm going to go get you your uniform." "Yes, Chef Charbonneau!" Then, the strange chef disappears into the kitchen.

You get to work, walking around the dining area and observing everything. There's a gray carpet, as well as a red one by the check-in area... this is actually pretty boring. You're basically just walking in circles around the room. The most exciting thing is when you saw a young lady walk by the window outside.

You hear the door to the kitchen open, as a lesser chef walks over to you and hands you your waiter's outfit. They then rush you to a restroom to get changed, handing you a bag to put your clothes into after you get the uniform on.

You walk out back to the dining room right in time to start working. 6 o'clock has hit. You see a few guests come in, finally giving you something to do. Quickly running over, you sit them down at a table for four. Writing down their requests on a notepad, you walk over to the partition window and hand the kitchen their orders.

As you do so, you notice something peculiar... none of the cooks have orange, or even ginger hair. They all have dark hair, with one person having blonde hair. That, and Vincent is staring at you like a hawk. You try to pay no mind to it... maybe the guy with orange hair is just out of view from the window? Either way, it's not important. You have to continue work.

The rest of the day goes by without any problems. Collecting your tips, you count them out to being around a hundred or so dollars. You help with closing, sweeping the floors and cleaning the tables, before looking to Vincent as you leave. "Have a nice night, Chef Charbonneau."

He looks to you, looking slightly shocked, like you had knocked him out of some odd daze. He slowly nods, before waving in return. "You, as well. Be sure to get here on time, tomorrow." "I got here early, so I'm sure I'll be on time, tomorrow." "The last waiter came in late on his second day... Just be on time." "... Okay..." That man is weird.

You nod in acknowledgement, then begin walking to the exit. The day has ended, and quite honestly, you need some rest... That, and you want to get to sleep early, just to spite you boss by being early two days in a row.

#dead plate #dead plate au #dead plate x reader #vincent charbonneau #vincent charbonneau dead plate #rody lamoree #dead plate rody #rody lamoree dead plate #marieanne vacher #manon vacher #dead plate manon #Haunted AU

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allkordelia · 10 months

Text

Keep Me Near Your Heart IV

Jaenara woke up with a pounding heart, her body shivering from the nightmare she just had and last night's events. She glanced at the empty side of the bed where Aemond had slept, feeling a pang of both longing and apprehension. She looked away from the empty spot to see Enith passed out in the armchair in front of the fireplace, Jaenara frowned at the state the maid was in and pushed the covers from her abdomen getting out of bed.

The poor woman's back was probably sore from how she was sleeping, jaenara walked over to Enith and tapped her shoulder but nothing happened so she did it the second time, and nothing happened again, so she grabbed enith's shoulder and shook her causing the young woman to stir and grumble.

"...huh, what," she said drowsily before snorting unladylike as she slowly drifted back to sleep making Jaenara's brows fly up in shock.

"Uh, I...I don't mean to wake you," Both of Enith's eyes snapped open when she heard her lady's voice, jaenara stepped back in surprise as Enith scrambled up off the chair using her fingers to brush her back in place.

"Forgive me, princess," Enith says with her hands clasped in front of her and head bowed, "I didn't mean to fall asleep--"

"It's alright, it happens," Jaenara replied softly making Enith lift her head quickly to look at the young princess.

Enith watched as Jaenara stepped away from her and turned back to the bed before back on and under the covers, Jaenara huffed as she soothed out the blanket before looking at Enith.

"Enith," Jaenara called making the handmaid turn towards her young mistress with wide and curious eyes, "I think I shall have my breakfast in bed," The thought of getting out of bed and getting dressed in only god knows how many layers and just to sit around your quarters doing nothing but reading and looking out the window out to the garden.

"Of course, princess." Enith says coming up to stand at the end of the bed, "Is there anything particular you would like for breakfast, m'lady." Enith asked, making Jaenara think about it for a moment.

"Some crumpets with a bit of honey will be nice." She said.

Enith smiles and nods.

"Crumpets with honey, excellent choice, m'lady." A small smile etched its way onto Jaenara's lips.

As Enith turns away to carry out her mistress's order, Jaenara faces away from the maid to look at the spot she slept in last night. Her mind wandered to last night and everything that happened, jaenara wrapped her arms around herself at the distance memory of Ser Cole's cackle. It made her remember why she needed to see Aemond.

"Enith," Jaenara called suddenly with her eyes remaining on the empty spot, the young maid stopped in the doorway and looked at her mistress, "If you...have the chance..." Jaenara looks over at Enith, "...will you see where my lord husband is." Enith stared at Jaenara for a moment thinking about going against her mistress' wishes, she hadn't been there for long but she could already tell that the prince was no good, but what royalty are.

"Of course, m'lady." Enith finally says making Jaenara nod her head in gratitude before leaning back against the headboard, Enith bows before turning around leaving Jaenara alone with her thoughts.

「 ⊹₊♚₊⊹ 」

As the morning sun cast a soft glow on the courtyard of the Red Keep, Jaenara spotted Aemond sitting alone on a stone bench, lost in thought. She approached him cautiously, her voice trembling as she spoke. "Aemond, we need to talk."

He looked up, his eyes filled with a mix of sorrow and confusion. "Jaenara?" His gaze flickered towards her face, a flicker of something crossing his expression before he quickly masked it. "What do you want to talk about?" He said as he turned his body to look at his wife.

"We will get to that...but first, where were last night?" She questioned, "I woke up and you weren't there, and the same for this morning." Aemond cast his gaze else before he planted his hands on his thighs and stood up.

"I couldn't sleep...so I returned to my old chambers after I went for a walk." He said Jaenara nodded her head slowly thinking why he couldn't return to their chambers, but she didn't want to question him even more than she needed to.

She wasn't there to know where he was last night, but to tell him some terrible news about his mother's knight and his mentor/father figure.

"Why are you asking me all these things, dove," Aemond asked as he walked up to Jaenara making her look up at him nervous.

Summoning all her strength, Jaenara took a deep breath and uttered the words that had been haunting her since the attack. "Aemond...Ser Cole attacked me last night."

It took Aemond a while for the words his wife said to register in his head before a scoff broke out of him making Jaenara frown. "That's impossible. Ser Cole wouldn't do that--"

"Aemond--"

"I have known him since I was a mere boy, Ser Criston is a noble and honorable man. He would never do something so horrible, especially to a princess." Aemond says taking a step forward glaring down at his wife, making Jaenara turn her eyes to the pebble floor, "So, are you telling me that man did something to you, why was he in our quarters." Jaenara looks up at him with tears I'm her eyes.

"I don't know, I woke and you were gone and when I didn't see you in the solar I thought to go look for you but then the door was locked and..." Jaenara couldn't stop rambling, she knew Aemond was going to be mad or even angry but it felt like he was blaming her, "...he unlocked the door he said it was for my protection that it be locked, and started saying things that made me feel uncomfortable and unsafe--"

"Unsafe? What did he say?" Jaenara shrugged her shoulders and tried to remember what Ser Cole said.

"I don't...I can't remember..but it was something about my mother and then he tried to kiss me and..." She trailed in distress shaking her head, she sniffed trying to keep her tears at bay, "...I was scared, aemond." She flicked her teary eyes up at him, aemond stared at her with a blank look contemplating if he believed her or not.

"If he attacked you then where are the bruises, hmm?" Jaenara didn't see any bruises on her when she dressed this morning, even though Ser Cole had been handling her like a rag doll, "Where are they, jaenara?" He challenged making tears slip down her cheek.

Her heart sank, realizing the enormous obstacle she faced. Even the person closest to her seemed to underestimate the gravity of her words. "Aemond, I understand this is difficult for you to accept, but Ser Cole did attack me, I saw his face, and heard his voice clear as day. I do not think there be a day that passes that I don't remember what he did to me." She said looking up at him.

A flicker of belief passed over aemond's face, but he quickly regained his composure. "I need proof, Jaenara. Accusing my mother's sworn sword and a loyal knight to our house without evidence could blow back in our faces..." he states, jaenara didn't have any proof, all the individuals present when Ser Cole attacked her were her and him, the others present after was Ser Ashford and Ser Krey.

Ser Ashford wasn't going to defend her nor Ser Krey even though it did look like he was worried about her. But, his loyalty lies with his brethren rather than the princess they have sworn to protect, and Enith gets there a bit too late but Jaenara doubts even if she had been there, she would have stayed silent as well.

"So, I must ask you, jaenara..." The young princess snaps back to the present and looks uncertainly at Aemond, "...Is it possible that you could....have dreamed or mistaken Ser Cole's advances." Jaenara staggered back from Aemond with wide eyes as if she had just been slapped, she couldn't believe he was asking her that.

More tears welled up in her eyes as her dread grew. "No." She argued, "I-I didn't imagine him attacking me, Aemond. I know he did." She insisted, aemond sighed jaded, his shoulders slumping as he looked at Jaenara, she could see the mixture of skeptical and weariness in his eye, "How can you not believe me after everything I just said, how can you doubt me, You wife of all people...over him." Jaenara couldn't deny that she was mad at Aemond, she wished that this could have gone a different way and not the way she already knew was going to go for her.

Aemond ran a hand through his shining silk hair. His voice softened, yet remained firm. "Jaenara, please understand that I love you. But you cannot simply point fingers at a trusted knight like Ser Cole without concrete evidence." Jaenara closed her eyes feeling betrayed by her husband, "But..." he said making her look at him, "I will look into it and find out the truth myself,"

"You will?" She asked with a glimmer of hope, Aemond nodded his head before putting his hand on Jaenara's arm.

"I will get to the bottom of this mess, but you must do something for me." Aemond inquired making Jaenara ask him what it was wanting to be helpful, "Trust me." Was all he said before pecking the top of her head.

Trust him. She could do that she thought, Aemond never lied to her before so if he says he will deal with it he will deal with it.

"I trust you, Aemond. With all my heart." Jaenara said softly.

Aemond paused, looking at Jaenara, her eyes held so much emotions that it touched something in him when she saw a single tear slide down the corner of her eye. A sudden feeling sparked inside of Aemond, he moved his hand to flicker away the tear making Jaenara look away shyly at the action.

"It's nice out. Let's go for a walk around the garden to clear your head" Aemond suggested sweetly, holding out his arm for her, jaenara took it with a gracious smile before being led away towards the garden.

「 ⊹₊♚₊⊹ 」

Jaenara was in her quarters reading when her husband, Aemond, burst through the door accompanied by the last man she wanted to see. Startled, Jaenara looked up from her book, her lavender eyes wide with surprise.

"What is this, Aemond?" she blurted out standing up, her voice laced with fear as she stared at Ser Cole.

Aemond's normally calm demeanor was replaced by a distinct air of determination as he approached, striding purposefully across the great chamber. "Dove," he began, his voice trembling with intensity, "We need to talk."

Her heart raced as a foreboding sense of unease settled over her. Ser Cole didn't have shackles on his wrists and ankles indicating that he wasn't under arrest for his crime against her, Jaenara looked at her husband fuming next to a smug Criston.

"Aemond, why have you brought him here?" she asked, her voice tinged with both trepidation, moving her hands to ball at her skirt.

Aemond paused, his grip tightening on the hilt of his sword, his knuckles turning white. "This man," he declared with a mixture of anger and determination, "is the very same man you accused of attacking you many moons ago, is that right?" Jaenara started to tremble as she nodded her head.

"Ye-yes he did--why is he here, Aemond?" Jaenara questioned unnerved by the other man's presence.

Aemond's throat contracted as he let go of his sword and stalked toward Jaenara, she didn't understand what was going on, she didn't understand why aemond looked so angry while Criston looked like he hit a gold mine. But, it doesn't matter why because what happens next is fill in the blanks.

"He is here for you," Aemond said darkly making Jaenara look at him frightened, aemond grabbed Jaenara by the arm roughly pulling her along.

"What, what do you mean--" She asked frantically as she dug her heels into the floor to keep from going any further, aemond was twice her size and could easily toss her over his shoulder but he settled with just shoving her.

Aemond pushed Jaenara roughly making her fall to the floor in front of Criston, she pushed herself up and looked up at him before looking at her husband who moved to squat down to be at level with her.

"Apologize." He demanded making Jaenara look at him confused.

"For what--what for?" She asked making aemond clench his jaw.

"You lied to me." He simply said before continuing, "You told me he attacked you‐‐"

"He did!" She cries, "Aemond, why would I lie to you." Aemond slapped Jaenara's hand as she reached out for him.

"Why didn't you tell me Ser Ashford and Ser Krey were there?" He asked suddenly making Jaenara look at him speechless that he knew, she looked over at Ser Cole and wondered what he told her husband, "Jaenara, look at me...said look at me!" Jaenara's face was turned roughly by aemond as he grasped her jaw, his gripe causing her eyes to well up and her hand to go to his wrist, "I ask you question and I want answers." Jaenara was crying mess on the floor, she didn't understand why this was happening to her, she hadn't done anything bad to Ser Cole or Ser Ashford yet they hurt her in a way she had never been hurt before it was worse than alys ignoring her.

"ANSWER ME!" He bellowed angrily making Jaenara flinch and cry even more.

"...I don't know, okay I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I..." She cried shaking her head, she didn't know why she was apologizing, it wasn't her fault, she wished Aemond would see that.

"I'm not the one you should be apologizing to." Aemond said turning his nose up at her scornful, "Get up." He spit grabbing her arm roughly and bringing her up with him, "Apologize now." He demanded firmly staring her down as they stood in front of Ser. Ole.

Jaenara's eyes were trained on the floor when she peeked up at Ser Cole, the older man wore a placid look but inside he was celebrating the look of defeat on Jaenara's soft features.

"Aemond, I...I can't." She whispered after she looked back down to the floor doleful.

Aemond clenched his jaw at Jaenara's stubbornness, he towered over her making her shrink and slowly back away from him but aemond's hand grasped her wrist before she could move any further.

"You will apologize or I will have that servant whip for attacking Ser Cole." He threatened, Jaenara looked at Aemond's confound.

"She...She has nothing to do with this, she wasn't even here when he attacked--" Jaenara squeaked in fright as Aemond's grip tightened on the spot above her elbow, his nails dug through the fabric, certain this time a bruise would be left.

He turned her so she could be in front of him.

"ENOUGH!" He bellowed angryily getting fed up with her "lies", Jaenara trembled next to him hiding her face, "Ser Ashford corroborated his story, so did Ser Krey, are you telling me they are liars too, that they would lie to their prince!" He shouted jaenara sniff willing herself to look at Aemond.

The intense glare was intolerable it made her want to look away but at the same time it didn't, it was obvious that Aemond believed Ser Cole over her. Especially with witnesses to back up the knight's story. So, what can she do? The small hope of aemond finding proof of Ser Cole's crime was long gone now, if she continued, she knew that Enith would be punished and Aemond would hate her forever unless...

"...I..l.." Jaenara gulped before licking her lips, she spoke in a low whisper, "...If I apologize...promise me you'll keep him away from me," Aemond squinted at her before he looked at Criston, the older man stood looking at them, but the knight's attention was solely on jaenara.

A glint that Aemond saw whenever Ser Cole talked to a maiden or his mother, he looked away from the knight and back at Jaenara. Aemond wasn't sure at first when Jaenara told him about Ser Cole and he kept his word to her about getting the truth, and in the beginning, he did find out more about what occurred that night. He talked to servants who were in the wing when it happened, and they reported hearing feminine screams, and when he went to confront Criston. He was met with Ser Ashford and Ser Krey, and the older man explained what happened and Ser Krey backed him.

There was something off that he couldn't put his fingers on, the young knight, Krey, seemed skittish and unsure. But, he didn't wish to go further with investigating the situation, he had better things to do than chase down his wife's lies.

"Fine." He agreed with an eye roll before letting her go.

Jaenara took in a shaky breath before she turned around slowly, her eyes trained on the ground as she tried to urge herself to look up at the man and be done. Jaenara lifted her eyes to see Ser Cole standing there like self self-righteous statue with a look that made her want to...Jaenara exhaled through her nose before mumbling out her apology.

Ser Cole raised a brow, he took a step closer making Jaenara take a quick one back only to bump into Aemond's chest.

"I didn't quite catch that, princess. Can you repeat yourself?" Jaenara grinds her teeth together before repeating herself.

"...I'm sorry--" She started.

"Speak up, mouse." He goaded making Jaenara bite her tongue at the new nickname.

"...I said I'm sorry, Ser Cole." She repeated louder making Cridton lean back with a small smile.

"I forgive you, princess."

Jaenara huffed angrily before turning on her heels, she sidestepped Aemond and bolted towards her room, she closed and locked the door behind her. She didn't have the energy to see or talk to Aemond, he could go sleep on the sette or his old chamber. Jaenara isn't a violent person, but she never in her life wanted to cause harm to someone so bad, chilling thoughts of making Ser Cole pay for what he did bring a bit of comfort to Jaenara, but it also scared her.

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sweetly-yours-and-mine · 1 year

Text

Summary: Curling up together on a beach blanket at the beach

Pairing: Joel Miller x pregnant!Reader

Warnings: author was writing this until midnight last night and did not look it over once, talk of c-sections, high-risk pregnancies, doctors

Word Count: 2.4k

Though the sun is scalding, the air humid, Joel’s has you held tight in his arms, face pressed into the nook between your neck and shoulder. There’s an umbrella that protects your faces from the sun, and there’s sunscreen caked in layers on your bodies.

Sarah’s playing in the sand with Tommy, their rough-housing and loud laughs seemingly miles away from the paradise he’s created with you right now, and for the first time in a long while, Joel is completely at ease. He finds that even if he wanted to think about anything, nothing comes up. The true feeling of a blank slate of a mind unknown but entirely welcome.

The ocean is warm and comfortable to swim in and maybe Joel will have a dip himself, in a few hours. Tommy had one the moment you had all arrived. Had shucked off his clothes down to his swimsuit and kicked sand as he sent his sandals flying, a wild shout echoing around the beach.

It was nice to see Tommy so happy. It’s nice to see him so happy right now.

He was gone for maybe half an hour before he’d returned with a mile-wide grin, hair drenched to his head as he shook from side-to-side the way a wet dog would. He’d gotten water droplets on you and your dress. Joel had scolded his brother angrily but you’d only laughed and ended the back-and-forth that would have soon followed like the ring of a bell.

It’d be nice to go into the ocean, to cool off and wipe away all the sunscreen you’d smothered onto him.

But right now, his stomach is full, and there’s a gentle breeze ruffling up his hair and he can feel the slow up and down of your chest as you sleep.

Joel’s hand drifts down, down and rests on top of your belly, starting to gently round with his baby. Now that you’ve started to show, you’ve strengthened the primal urges inside of him to protect and nurture, having given him a right and proper reason to be overbearing and worrisome just as his nature calls for every time you or Sarah smile at him.

He starts to rub his hand against your tightened skin. You’ve started to glow. Sleeping beside you at night is like sleeping beside a star.

He remembers when you first told him you were pregnant.

You’d been scared more than anything, hadn’t even thought of doing one of those cheesy, cliche pregnancy announcements. You’d stuttered it out, early one morning with bags underneath your eyes, Joel, I’m pregnant, I’m sorry.

You’d said it all in one breath, didn’t even let the first bit settle in before you’d started apologising, having made up his mind for him. Then you’d poured him a cup of coffee and sat down.

So, first, he had to calm you down before he got to thinking about it for himself.

He thinks you knew that he may have driven himself a little out of his mind, despite the brave face he put on for you.

Another child meant another liability.

Already, he can feel the strains of it. Overly-dedicated to his daughter and to you, Joel could barely and probably still can’t fathom the idea of willingly letting another bit of his heart walk around in the open world as if it meant nothing to him, as if this was the way this was supposed to go and he was supposed to be happy about it.

Fatherhood.

You hum and shift underneath his hands, your eyes flutter open gently and a frown crosses your face for a moment as you try to place where you are. He runs the back of his hand against your cheek and murmurs something soft and sweet.

You’re barely awake but you’re starting to worry as well. He thinks you’ve started to pick up the habit from him, “Where’s Sarah?”

As you try to sit up, Joel helps you down again and cuddles you, “With Tommy, relax.”

Joel’s coming to your appointment this week to find out the sex.

He’s barely thought about what he wants. Sarah wants a sister. You want a girl.

Joel doesn’t know.

He tries to flashforward to five months later and imagine a baby in his arms, the beep of the monitors, your chest rising in the same shallow way it is now.

He thinks of a baby boy, with your eyes and his hair. Small and wrinkled. Joel already knows he’s going to think him the prettiest baby in the world, even if he won’t seem it to others until at least a few weeks later.

He thinks of a baby girl, with his eyes and your hair. Small and wrinkled. Joel already knows he’s going to think her the prettiest baby in the world, even if she won’t seem it to others until at least a few weeks later.

He’s been so occupied with concerns he’s deemed more important that he’s going to find out what you’re having and he doesn’t even have the faintest idea of what he wants.

With a deep breath, sounding like an ocean wave, you turn on your other side and tuck your head underneath his chin. Joel swears he hears a faint click when you do.

“Your thinking is very loud,” you nudge your nose into the divot between his collarbones.

He pulls you in closer until your belly presses just gently against his. Your hand drifts down from his shoulder and rests on his hip.

“Sorry.”

You take a handful of his skin on his side and squeeze, smiling against his chest, “Your love handles are coming in nicely.”

He’s still thinking of your baby. Thinking of how certain the doctor can be when she’s telling the sex and how badly it could mess up your lives if it was wrong. He supposes a gender-neutral colour for the walls would be the safest way to go.

The guilt crawls in now because he’s been meaning to take you to the store to pick out the colour and it’s been a promise he’s been renewing over and over again as he’s been trying to finish up the latest renovation that’s costing him more than it’s going to bring in.

The empty, satisfying feeling inside his mind is now long gone. He barely recognises himself anymore, doesn’t know why he’d thought he was at ease and relaxed.

“Joel,” you coo and look up at him. “Joel, baby,” you brush some hair away from his forehead with your fingers. He hears Tommy say something about letting up for a while and catching his breath. Sarah teases back and calls her uncle old. “Talk to me, where did you go?”

He’s at the hardware store now, standing in front of a wall of permutations of colours and shades. Nuances that he’ll probably never be able to pick up on without your help.

He’s back in the repurposed office of his house, brushing rollers against the walls with Tommy, anxiety hanging about him like a staticky cloud.

He’s-

“I still need to paint the nursery.” He blurts out the words in a small, deadly little pellet, dense and heavy with all his previous worries.

Barely missing a beat, “Alright. Where should we start?”

“We need to pick a colour.” The sentence trips over itself into a mumbled ball, rolling down your chest. You start to nod, your mouth opening when he keeps going, “I’ve been meaning to take you to the store for weeks now.”

“It’s alright,” when you feel the protest rise up in him again you push back against it. “I’ll go with Sarah.”

The spinning carousel of his mind halts suddenly, the ruckus of the carnival music dying down.

Joel hadn’t considered that option before.

“I don’t want you driving.”

“Then I’ll have my sister drive.”

He knows what you’re doing, cooling down each burst of flame that shoots out with a swift swipe of your hand. He knows you’re going to press him about this later, about sitting behind the wheel when you’re pregnant.

You’re an adept driver. He’s seen you parallel park the truck into spaces he’d pass by without a second thought.

Tommy teased him endlessly about it.

Still, that didn’t mean everyone else in the Texas state was an adept driver, nor did it mean that everyone else would drive by your car extra careful because they knew you were with child.

Joel just simply wasn’t comfortable. Not because of your driving, but every single, minute element that exists outside the world when you enter it.

Only a few years younger than Joel himself, who was on the cusp of a new decade, it was already a high-risk pregnancy. Your doctor had already sat down with you this week and discussed alternatives to natural childbirth.

“Fine. But take Tommy with you too.”

Your hands drift down again and rest on his sides. Joel always revelled in the primal feel of your skin against his, your hair against his body. He wonders if that’s how trees feel when wind brushes past them, or if it’s something else, like teeth sinking into hot flesh, sharp and relentless.

“Tommy’s going to be working.”

He shakes his head, “I’ll give him the afternoon off.”

For a long while you go quiet.

A million and one thoughts pass through Joel’s head while you do, but now it feels like he’s stepped out of the highway and onto the side of the road, out of the line of fire.

He murmurs your name and runs his hand along the side of your head, your silence starting to get to him, “What’s wrong?”

Unlike him, you know how to arrange your sentences to mean exactly what you want them to say. You don’t stew and boil inside your own thoughts until they come rushing out at the faintest question.

“Do you even want another kid?”

“What makes you think I don’t?”

You shrug and look down at your stomach. It’s taken some time to get used to moving around with it. Already, you feel inflated and off-balance. The baby has started to move as well, a strange, foreign experience that no pregnancy book could ever prepare you for. Fish-like, alien.

“I don’t know, you just…worry so much all the time.” Joel had never been easy for you to read, your condition making it worse, blurring the line between reality and your hormones. Maybe it would have been best to have thought about kids earlier on, to have brought another child to your relationship with Joel the way he had Sarah. “I-I…I know we talked about it before and you said you weren’t opposed to the idea but now it’s not just an idea and in five months…”

Joel lets out a sigh across your face. Usually comforting, it agitates you more.

That had also been a new thing.

Sensations and touches that normally you would revel in and actively seek out have you running away from them. You had to go and buy a new duvet cover for the bed set last week because the fabric was rough and itchy against your skin, making you lose what little sleep you were getting in the first place.

“I do want the kid, I do,” his voice gruff. He had such a unique cadence of speech. Despite having grown up only a few years apart, Tommy barely spoke like him. Joel was muted and just slightly mumbled. He didn’t talk the way most men did where they filled the room with their voice and got on your nerves because of it. “Work’s been a lot.”

Guilt grabs a firm grip of your heart for bothering him with stupid, made-up little notions inside your own head. For doubting he wants this when he is so clearly bending over backwards to make sure that this works, that this is possible.

“I’m sorry.”

The other day you’d come home from the doctor’s with the Caesarean section pamphlet in your hand and Joel had spent the rest of the evening combing over each and every chapter about it in the books he’d borrowed from the library.

“I’m sorry for makin’ you feel that I don’t want it. I do.”

You nod, shuffle closer to him again, “It's okay. I know work's been a lot."

There's still unfinished business for him though. You hear it churning inside his head, turning into butter.

Joel was strange like that in many ways. Quiet and reserved. You don't know if he was always like that or if it was only the way he's grown up with Tommy as his little brother.

He churns and churns inside himself until he goes sick with worry and thought and at the end of the day, what he says and what he wanted to say and what butter he'd made were three separate things.

"I'll take the afternoon off," he settles finally. "We'll all go choose the colour."

"You, Sarah, Tommy and my sister?" You lean back to look up at him and see the scratchy patches of soft skin in his beard.

It's going to be a disaster.

"Joel," you bring his face down to meet yours. The layers of emotions you see inside them are endless. "Joel. I'll go with Sarah. We'll go tomorrow, after her soccer game is over. We'll get lemonade and we'll walk to the store."

"I'll come pick you two up after then."

"Alright," you nod finally and venture to smile up at him. "You wanna go take a swim? Cool off the smoke coming out of your ears?"

His mouth twitches and he finally huffs out a laugh, "Alright."

In the dark crash of the waves, as he keeps swimming until his chest starts to ache, Joel thinks that maybe every time the ocean builds up it is like the first time, no matter that this is what it's been doing for eternity.

He supposes that things will be alright.

From the shore, he hears Tommy crack a joke and your bright laugh following it like a chime of a bell.

Thanks for reading, if you liked it, please consider leaving some feedback! I don't usually respond, but I obsess and re-read reblogs and comments constantly.

Masterlist here. Summer Drabbles here.

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nikethestatue · 9 months

Text

A Match Baked In Heaven

Chapter X

Howlin’ For You

Today

Breasts.

Boobs.

Mammary Glands.

Jugs.

Boobies.

Tits.

Fiery Biscuits.

Melons.

Baps.

Milkers.

Tatas.

Snuggle Pups.

The ‘girls’

Whatever one called them, here they were. Staring Azriel Night in the face. He could’ve thought of a few more names for them: ‘naughty pillows’, ‘honkers’, ‘knockers’, ‘the rack’...and on and on and on.

This pair was nice as fuck. He couldn’t deny it.

The generously bosom-y blonde across from him was a beauty named Mor. And this Mor was a stunner. Big brown eyes, hair like molten gold, tits for days, childbearing hips, a nipped waist.

He’d arrived early, yet she was already here, at a posh, faceless bar in the City. She wanted to go somewhere flashier, but Azriel didn’t want any more of his photos splashed across Daily Mail under the headline ‘Another One for Footie’s Bad Boy?’ so he chose this spot. It was filled with nervous and overly intense finance blokes, with an uneven ratio of 78% dicks to 22% pussy in attendance. If he didn’t know better he’d think this was a gay bar, but it wasn’t. It was a bar where ‘deals were made’ and no one paid attention to him. He was wearing a suit and easily passed for another manic finance bloke.

Mor was on her third drink already, but she was holding her alcohol well, though Azriel suspected that might have a problem somewhere there. Currently he wasn’t training or playing due to his injury, but he still stuck with sparkling water as was his habit. Those big bazoongas shifted beneath her bright red dress and even a blind man would’ve felt the earth shift when she moved, but Azriel remained…uninterested.

Yes, in theory, she was tempting and attractive in every way. If this was three months ago, he probably would’ve been pounding her on the way back from the bar, giving Dev an eyeful. Wouldn’t have been the first time.

Alas, currently, not only did he not care about her tits whatsoever, he also kept thinking about the cool 20 Day Advent Calendar that he bought for Pinky, where there was a special treat behind every little daily slat. He was unhealthily excited about this Advent Calendar and kept imagining how excited Pink would be about it, and how he and Elain would open it daily to reveal treat-of-the-day.

No tits were as desirable as the happiness of his dog. Besides, the only tits that were interesting to him, the only tits he wanted to touch and squeeze, the only tits he wanted to lick and bite, were Elain’s. Soft, ample, squishy titties–the only tits worth his time and attention. Whatever Mor was laying down, he sure as hell wasn’t picking up. The only reason he was here anyway, was because his ornery girlfriend demanded it and he was humouring her. A little bar talk with this loud woman was a small price to pay for having Elain in his arms through the night, making her accept him, slowly, but surely fall for him, submit…Yeah, it was worth it, even if he didn’t want to be here.

Five Days Ago

“You aren’t even that ill!” Elain protested.

Azriel offered a loud and very fake cough to demonstrate that he was indeed quite ill.

“I beg to differ,” he argued. “Are you really going to send a star athlete all the way to Canary Wharf, in the beginning of December? While he is half-dead from fever and has a broken leg?”

“Oh, now the leg is broken too?” Elain crossed her arms on her chest, shaking her head, looking at him. The good thing was that Pinky decided to take Azriel’s side, and now he sat by his side, working hard at giving Elain the biggest puppy dog eyes in history.

“You two are emotional vampires!” she declared, getting up from the table.

“We are emotional puppies!” Azriel argued.

“You are a traitor,” Elain hissed at Piglet, who whimpered pathetically.

“I’ll wash the dishes,” Azriel offered sheepishly.

She rolled her eyes and told him firmly, “you aren’t sleeping with me”.

“Umm,”

“No, don’t even think about it.”

“Where am I sleeping then?”

“In the guest room,” she said primly,

“Aren’t you planning to sleep with your husband in the same bed?” he queried.

“Yes. But you aren’t my husband.”

“But I will be,” he reminded her.

“Dream on, football boy,” she puffed her cheeks, while Azriel gathered the plates and hobbled with them to the sink. And then, he proceeded to wash the dishes like a good boy. It was silly, because obviously she had a dishwasher, but Azriel wanted to show how he would be a great husband-material, and how much potential he had in that department.

Elain didn’t say anything, but quietly began putting things away after dinner. Pinky was laying there like a log, watching them closely, monitoring every move.

Azriel was almost done with the washing up, when he stepped aside and suddenly pulled Elain to him, wrapping his arm around her waist.

Her breath quickened, but she didn't struggle in his hold. He pressed her into the counter and held her within the cage of his arms.

Elain smelled delightful. A heady mix of jasmine, with light undertones of warm honey and vanilla. Her scent was exactly what she was in life–a flower-lover and a baker. It was a perfect mix of who she was.

Azriel inhaled her deeply and felt her shiver against him. He leaned in and pressed his forehead to hers, savouring the moment. It was quiet, other than some instrumental Christmas music playing on Elain’s phone. So it made sense when Elain’s arms tentatively wrapped around Azriel’s waist and she pulled him a little closer.

“Why are you like that, my matchy?” he whispered.

“How am I?”

“Skittish. Afraid. You shouldn’t be afraid of me. I would never hurt you.”

She sighed sadly and whispered, “Others have said the same, and did, in fact, hurt me.”

“I am not ‘others’. I am it. I knew that I was fucked once I started wondering what your lips would taste like, and I am still wondering about that. I’ve been many different things in my life, and not all of them any good, but with you, it’s different.

“You smell like home. You feel like a wife. You act like the mother of my children. There is nothing I can do about that.”

“You fell hard,” she murmured.

“Surprised me too,” he chuckled, “but here we are.”

She took his hand in hers and looked at his scarred skin, absently rubbing the mangled flesh with her thumb. At that, it was Azriel’s turn to squirm a bit. He didn’t like close attention being paid to his hands.

But, all she did was whisper ‘beautiful’ and Azriel didn’t know what to do with that. So he blushed. Because it wasn’t something he expected, and coming from her, he knew that it was the truth. She found his hands beautiful.

She then took him by the hand and gently pulled him behind her, sneaking from under his arm.

“Gonna put me to bed, beautiful?” he chuckled.

“Don’t push it,” she warned playfully.

They went upstairs, Azriel being on his best behaviour, careful not to spook her and have her send him back down to sleep on the couch.

Elain’s upstairs wasn’t any less luxurious and stylish than the downstairs. The landing had built-in bookshelves and a loveseat and apparently Pinky’s own swanky pad, with a vast doggy bed and various cushions upon which he could ‘relax’ (not that his life was very hard and required much relaxation). In addition, part of the built-ins contained all his outfits, his toys, and bows. He had more clothes than Kim K.

“You are here,” Elain opened the door to one of the bedrooms. It was modern, comfortable, like a world-class hotel room. But impersonal.

“There is an en-suite,” Elain waved her hand to another door.

“And where are you?” Azriel asked immediately.

She gave him a look, but said “at the end of the hall. Should you require anything, knock and let me know.”

Then, after a beat, she added, “And since you sleep in the nude, please don’t forget to cover yourself.”

Azriel smirked and gently cupped the side of her neck, drawing his thumb over the tender skin of her throat.

“So you remembered then?”

Primly, as if they were discussing cottage cheese, she said, “it’s my job. I pride myself in remembering what my clients tell me.”

“Ahhh,” he nodded slowly, with a knowing look on his face. “And for no other reason I am sure, yeah?”

“Exactly.”

“Alright then, Ms. Archeron,” he pressed his lips to her forehead and gave her a soft, loving kiss, “good night. And if I do need anything, I will remember to cover my massive cock,”

“Ahh,” she gasped and he laughed, giving her another quick kiss.

She pushed at him, pretending to be oh-so scandalised, but there was no fire in her protests.

“Stop kissing me!”

“That’s a hard no from me,” he shrugged. “I only intend to kiss you more.”

“Why are you like this?”

“What? Charming? Sexy? Smart?”

“Yeah, all of the above,” she snorted. “Don’t you ever take ‘no’ for an answer?”

“Not really,” he confessed. “Definitely not this time around.”

“Why not?” she asked quietly, looking straight at him.

He licked his lip and then stated simply,

“Because you are mine.”

Today

“Three million.”

Azriel was so lost in thought, especially recalling how that night five days ago went, that he didn’t catch anything that Mor was saying to him. Not until he heard ‘three million’.

“Pardon?” he finally asked.

“I think that’s a reasonable sum,” she decided, flipping her hair behind her shoulder.

“For what?”

“Us!”

“Us? Us what?” his brow furrowed and he had no idea what she was referring to.

“That’s the exchange,” she pushed, leaning across the table towards him, and letting her boobs slide forward, the material of her dress barely containing them. Gosh, she was trying hard.

“Miss Hewn, lay it all out,” he all but snapped at her. “What do you want?”

“It’s what you want,” she corrected him and brought her martini glass to her bright red lips. An espresso martini, no less. What a revolting 80s drink that no self-respecting person would ever touch. But Azriel chose to keep his opinion to himself. Mor wasn’t Elain. He could tease Elain. She’d answer, she’d taunt him back. It would be wonderful. But he didn’t need to worry about Elain–she was a whiskey and lager and gin girl. Proper drinks. Classic. None of this frou-frou nonsense. He had no opinion on Mor because he didn’t give a shit.

“What am I exchanging for three mil?” he queried, crossing his arms on his chest and leaning back in his chair.

She mimicked his posture, and said in a firm, bland tone,

“A little birdy told me that if you don’t marry by the time you are thirty, you lose your chance at your inheritance…and I hear it’s over 200 mil. Lord Darling is worth what? About two billion? 10% of his wealth goes to his two adopted sons–you and your brother Cassian. Am I not correct?”

“You are alarmingly well-informed about Lord Darling’s finances,”

She shrugged and said with false innocence in her voice, “all public knowledge, Azriel. And I am a girl who does her research.”

Another one.

Another girl who was doing her due diligence. But unlike Elain, whose intentions were honourable and even a little naive, Mor seemed much more predatory. Her big eyes gleamed with excitement.

“So, if I am understanding you correctly,” Azriel sipped his sparkling water, wondering how long he had to stay here for, “you want me to pay you three million pounds,”

“Correct,” she nodded.

“For what exactly?”

“To marry you, of course, silly!” she smiled at him and winked.

“Oh…”

“Two years? Three?” she shrugged irreverently and finished her gross martini, while immediately motioning to the waiter for another drink.

The balls on her were…impressive.

If Azriel wasn’t so internally disgusted, he would’ve been awed.

But he was mostly grossed out.

“We marry, we stay together for a couple of years,” Mor continued easily. “I get my three million. You get your 200 million and then we part amicably. What do Americans call it? Irreconcilable differences. We wouldn’t be able to reconcile our differences too. I’ll even sign a prenup, and won’t ask for any spousal support or any bit of your money,”

“Generous of you,” he said dryly. “So this has been the plan from the beginning, I am guessing?

She shrugged innocently.

“I go where the money is.”

“Let me guess,” he interrupted. “You know all about how much I make too?”

Her red-tipped fingers gently caressed his hand, but in a condescending sort of way, like she was taming a wild animal.

“Of course I do, darling,” she smiled at him. “Of course, I do. 115 million contract with Arsenal over 5 years. Multiple multi-million pound endorsement contracts with big name companies–Adidas, Apple, Bank of England come to mind. Oh, Smart Water. Oh, oh,” she snapped her fingers, “a deal with that shaving company…You looked good in those adverts. All damp and half-naked, water dripping off of you,”

Azriel barely managed not to roll his eyes.

“How did you get through Elain’s rigorous screening?” he interrupted her litany, speaking frankly and not giving a fuck. He was past being Mr. Nice Guy or even Mr. Pretend to Be a Nice Guy for the Evening. He was going to be the dickhead that he usually was.

Mor laughed lightly and accepted another weird concoction from the waiter–a Lemon Drop, apparently. What was with this woman and her 80s drinks? They weren’t even classics. Just gaudy.

“Ohhh,” Mor did a sing-song thing with her voice. “Elain…Lady Elain Archeron, the 7th Marchioness of Londonfair, sister to Nesta, the Duchess of Velaris and to Countess Feyre Archeron.

“See, Azriel, I do my research on everyone. Did you know that the Duke of Velaris petitioned Queen Victoria some time around 1894 to have all the females in his family receive titles. Just the females, the same way the males would. And the titles are passed on to women in that family. Interestingly, the old Queen wasn’t exactly a feminist. In fact, she was sternly opposed to feminism and felt that women should obey and serve their men. Wonder what the Duke had to do to convince her? But whatever he did, apparently worked.

“The sisters’ mother was the Duchess of Velaris. Nesta was the Marchioness. Elain, a Countess. Feyre, a Viscountess. Once the mother died, the titles shifted to each respective sister. Interesting, isn’t it?

“You know how much they are worth?”

“No,” Azriel snapped. “I don’t, and I don’t care.”

“Pity. It is curious that Lady Elain has this strange profession. Very odd, don’t you think? A matchmaker.”

“She wants to bring happiness to others,” he said. “Love.”

Mor scoffed,

“Love. Yes, love. It’s adorable that you bought into her fantasy.”

“Her track record is impeccable,” he argued roughly.

“Oh,” Mor waved her hand, “I am not arguing, I know she is good at what she does. Poor lonely souls flock to her in hopes for their happily ever after.”

“And you didn’t?” he challenged. Dark, angry, cold rage was rising up in his chest, threatening to suffocate him. His own personal feelings aside, Elain was good. She believed in what she did. She was kind and thoughtful and careful with the feelings of others. She did want people to find their partners, and their happily ever after. Of that, he had no doubt. Therefore, anyone taking advantage of her sincerity and her beliefs made him see red.

“I did flock too,” Mor confirmed, almost chugging her Lemon Drop in one go and motioning for the waiter yet again. Jesus fuck. “Just not for love,” she continued. “It wasn’t exactly difficult to build up a story that Elain wanted to hear. My very unsuccessful first engagement, then a string of men who didn’t turn into anything serious, disappointments and my ‘yearning for love’,” she made air quotes. “The poor silly cow fell for it just like that,” she snapped her fingers.

At that, Azriel flinched, but Mor didn’t notice it. Instead, she ordered ‘Sex On the Beach’ and he almost died of embarrassment. When the kids on the team told him that they ‘died of cringe’ he now understood what they meant.

“If you know where to look, you’d find out that Lady Elain abruptly ended her engagement to Lord Nolan a few years back. I figured that he stepped out on her, and it turns out that I was correct. So I played that up to her, telling her that my fiance did the same. She was so easy,” Mor sighed dramatically. “I mean, what was I expecting? This is a woman who dotes on her lame legless pug and,”

“Pardon,” Azriel stood up abruptly and muttered, “I need to go to the loo,”

“Oh, alright then,” Mor nodded. “When you come back, we’ll discuss the details of the arrangement.”

Apparently, in her mind, everything’s been settled already.

Azriel left his jacket hanging on the back of his chair, but he figured it would be a small price to pay to escape. He veered off the path to the toilets and passed by the long, glass-covered bar, where he spotted Dev, who was sipping mineral water. Azriel motioned his head to the driver, and Dev got up promptly, his expression perplexed. His eyes darted from Azriel to Mor’s golden-haired head which loomed over the table.

Azriel came over and grabbed his driver’s arm, quickly ushering him towards the exit.

“Are you doing a runner?” Dev guessed, grinning at the panicked looking Azriel.

“Sure am!”

“Wait, so you pumped and dumped,”

“No pumping,” Azriel quickly, shuddering visibly, “only dumping.”

“You really gonna ghost her like that?”

“Honestly, it’s not my proudest moment, but I am afraid she is going to charge me for leaving. A tenner at least.”

Dev chuckled, and nodded towards Azriel’s lack of jacket,

“You’ll freeze your bollocks off,”

“Small price to pay to escape Miss Golden Arm over there. She really started the conversation with ‘you pay me three million and then I will marry you’.”

“Shit. For real?”

“Sure am. She is a thirsty one. Not for cock, but for a buck.”

Dev laughed and said, “Alright then, mate, let’s go. I’ll save you.”

Azriel tossed two hundred pounds to the barman and said, “For the lady’s drinks,” he pointed towards Mor. “And make sure she doesn’t drive. She’s had one, or ten, too many.”

By the time he slipped out of the bar, took the lift downstairs and came outside, to the frigid night, Dev was pulling the car around the corner.

Azriel all but collapsed into the warm cabin and rubbed his hands.

“Told you you’ll freeze,” Dev told him.

“What did you want me to do exactly?”

“Never seen you walk away like that from a woman before,” Dev commented, while he pulled away from the curb.

“Ehhh,” Azriel looked out the window, watching the sleek streets decorated for Christmas. “I wasn’t into it.”

“Uh-uh,” Dev only muttered, with a knowing look on his face. “Where to then? Canary Wharf or Russell Square?”

Azriel shot him a glance in the mirror, and Dev continued lightly, “I wasn’t planning on being done with the evening by,” he glanced at the clock, “7:08 pm. But here we are. So, where are we going? Home? Or where you wanna be?”

“What do you mean?” Azriel demanded.

The driver huffed and snickered.

“Come on, Az. I’ve known you for 20 years. Known you since we were lads.”

“So?”

“Seen you with all kinds of birds, and here we are tonight, and I am watching you walk away from Miss Busty without a second thought. And I can see you itching to go back to that posh neighbourhood and see your posh lass and her mega posh pug. Tell me I am wrong?”

Azriel rubbed his chin and looked back at the window.

“Russell Square,” was all he said.

Dev smiled widely.

“On my fucking way, lad.”

Because yes, Azriel wanted to be with his woman. And wanted a repeat of the night from five days ago.

Five Days Ago

Five nights ago, Azriel did not keep true to his word.

Well, technically, he didn’t promise to stay in his room. He didn’t promise to stop kissing Elain. He didn’t promise anything, other than to cover his cock if he went to her room. And he did.

He covered his cock.

He wore his boxers, to be precise.

He settled for the night–or at least for the immediate couple of hours–but as soon as the door closed, he heard scratching and banging, growling and barking.

“Piglet no!” came Elain’s urgent pleas. “Az is going to sleep. So should you. Go to your bed. Right now!”

Instead, there was snapping and more growling.

“Piglet, no. You had chicken and rice, you took a nice walk, you played with Az, and it’s time to call it a night. Go to bed.”

There was a pause, and then more aggressive banging on the door, which Azriel hoped wasn’t Pinky ramming his head into it.

“I swear to god, Piglet Pinky Archeron,” Elain exclaimed sternly and Azriel just about fell off the bed, at the sound of the middle name,

Piglet Pinky Archeron Night. Thank you very much.

“I am going to take you to the vet!”

A shocked, horrified whimper was the answer.

That was a hella threat then.

And then Piglet started crying and Azriel couldn't take it anymore. He got out of bed and threw the door open. With that, Piglet in turn threw himself in his arms like the floor was lava. Azriel wrapped his arms around him and whispered, “It’s okay, my boy. It’s okay. I am not going to send you to the vet,” he glanced at Elain, meaning to give her the stink eye, and only to notice her shocked expression.

Oh yeah…he was naked, other than for his underwear.

“Ummm,” she mumbled…”I…well, I…if he…you know he is quite loud if you want him to sleep in the room,” she rambled on, as her eyes darted here and then, trying to avoid the sight of his naked flesh.

That’s right, sweetheart. Keep looking.

“I am dressed,” Azriel pointed out with a smirk.

“I…I,” she huffed, swiping her hand over her brow, “I wouldn’t call this ‘dressed’ Mr. Azriel…”

“Mr. Azriel?” Azriel teased. “What happened to Mr. Night?”

“Yes, yes, of course. Mr. Night!” Elain nodded frantically, “that’s what I meant, of course. Naturally. Mr. Azriel.”

He kept staring at her, smiling, while she muttered, “Mr. Night!”

Then he shrugged and told her, “I rather like hearing my name on your lips, beautiful. ‘Azriel’ me all you want. Come on in then,” he jerked his head, inviting her in.

“Come where?” she baulked.

“To my comfy bed, obviously,” he explained like she was a bit stupid. “It’s only nine o'clock. According to the Daily Mail I am a ‘debauched footballer’--so what the fuck am I doing in bed at this hour? It’s fine for Pink, but you and I can spend some quality time together,”

“I couldn’t possibly,” she kept muttering, while he grabbed her hand and tugged her along.

“Don’t worry little virgin,” he assured her, “I’ll leave your virtue intact, if that’s what you’d like,”

“I am not a virgin!” she hissed at him and he laughed and then the three of them piled onto the bed, under his significant bulk and strength.

But first things first…

He got her in bed with him, which was a massive accomplishment. Took two months, but here they were. Now, he needed a minute to wrap his mind around the fact that Elain Archeron, his Elain, was in bed with him. Thankfully, Pinky offered him that opportunity, when he jumped off the bed, screamed excitedly, and then began running frantic circles around the room.

Watching the pug’s antics, Elain laughed and whispered, “major case of the zoomies.”

“For the laziest dog, he sure does pack a lot of energy,” Azriel commented, carefully arranging himself next to her, trying to be inconspicuous, like this was normal for them.

Nothing was normal.

None of this was normal.

Even the fact that Elain was barefoot, and he was seeing her pretty toes for the first time, had Azriel spiralling internally. She was usually formally dressed, and when he did catch her in casual attire, it was strange enough. But Elain barefoot? Her toenails were painted a light pearl colour and he couldn’t stop staring at them. He couldn’t stop staring at the difference in their sizes: at how much bigger he was than her. He was a big man, but her little pale feet seemed almost childish next to his large, beat up, calloused ones. His muscular legs reached almost to the edge of the bed, and he looked rough and wild compared to her, his skin a deep golden brown, tattoos peppering his body here and there, all the sinewy tight muscles bulging and shifting beneath his bruised, scarred, scratched skin. She was soft and creamy, pale and resembled a marshmallow or a cream puff. He resembled a gnarly log.

He extended his arm and Elain naturally leaned into the crook, laying her head on his shoulder.

She wore grey pyjama pants with pugs on them (obviously), and a red Arsenal t-shirt, with Azriel’s own number. Like a proper girlfriend should. Though it made his chest warm and everything inside of him squeezed with strange wormy happiness, because this wasn’t the jersey that he gave her. This was a different shirt, which she clearly bought for herself, and now wore to bed.

There was nothing sexy or alluring about her mismatched night outfit, but to Azriel, it was somehow perfect. Undoubtedly, the ensemble that she had on earlier–the shorts, the knee highs, and the jumper–was Pinterest-worthy in its enticing sexiness, and nothing beat half of her ass falling out of those shorts.

But this was good. Like it should be.

He rested his chin atop of her head and then she reached across him and tugged a blanket on top of his body.

“You’ll grow cold and will never get better,” she complained.

“Is my naked body messing with your little ladyship sensibilities?” he teased. “What’s it like with Lord Eris? Brace yourself, Sally, and think of England?”

“I hate you so much,” she said flatly, shaking her head with disdain.

“No, matchy. You like me,” he said assertively.

She tensed a little against him, but he only stroked her shoulder lightly, keeping her in place.

Piglet finally tired out from his zooming and attempted to climb back on the bed, but he couldn’t reach that high up, so he began whimpering frantically, now wanting as much attention as possible and fearing that he was missing out.

Azriell scooped him up with his available hand and placed him at his side.

“You can stay here, but you are not Beyonce, so no one will be entertaining you. Calm down and go to sleep. It’s me and Ellie time.”

Piglet pouted at him, but then burrowed himself in the blanket and quieted down.

“Try to keep the farting to a minimum,” Azriel warned, but Piglet only snorted at him.

Azriel draped the rest of the blanket over Elain, and then boldly grabbed her hip and hoisted her leg up and over his own.

There was a moment there, where they just looked at each other, their bodies connected, the intimacy of the moment almost stifling.

It was then that Elain asked,

“What do you want, Azriel? From me?”

He looked at her, studying the lovely contours of her face, and after a long pause, said,

“I want everything from you. I want you in the worst way. I need your taste. Your scent. I want to know what your skin would feel next to mine. I want to crawl so deep inside of you, that you won’t be able to extricate yourself from me ever. Not ever. Not with a spoon. Not with an axe. Not with a prayer. Not with a saw. And I want it all tonight. I want it every minute of the day. And I know that I can’t have it. So I yearn and desire, and I suffer, because I cannot have it. I cannot have you.”

“It’s a violent image,” she whispered at last, watching him in awe. “Your love is possessive, and nearly scary.”

“Nearly,” he agreed, “but not quite. I simply didn’t know that I could feel this way about anything. About anyone.”

“Are you going to start spouting poetry?” she smiled and lightly traced her finger over his jaw.

“I usually don’t need to resort to that,” he chuckled. “But if you’d like me to give you a little speech about how you’d bewitched me, body and soul, I could do that.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve read Pride and Prejudice!” she gasped in shock.

Azriel laughed quietly, “Fuck no! But I’ve seen enough gifs from the movie to remember that line.”

“I love that movie,” Elain admitted dreamily.

“Absolutely no surprise there,” Azriel concluded.

He then pulled her closer and slipped his arm lower, so he could cup her lovely ass, and when he did, she didn’t even fight him. That’s my girl, he thought.

“What should I get Pinky for Christmas?” he pondered, as he glanced at the sleeping pug.

“I don’t think that he cares all that much,” Elain admitted, while her little finger kept making circles on his skin, travelling from his neck, down to his shoulder and chest, as she traced the lines of his tattoos.

“Come on, of course he does! I do too. What should I get him?”

“Well,” she thought, “the things he likes the most are: empty Amazon envelopes, the padded ones. Socks. You can get him an old shoe. A stick, of course. He likes a good stick. Any kind of hose that he can tear up–pantyhose are his fave. An empty box. And of course the thing that he loves the most in the world is,” then her voice dropped to a whisper and she said into Azriel’s ear, her voice barely audible, “meatloaf.”

Even though Elain was whispering, the magical word still caused Piglet to stir sleepily. He waited for a moment, before falling back asleep.

“See?”

“Wow, he really must love it,” Azriel barely contained himself, stifling his laughter. “I guess I know what we are having for Christmas!”

The next hour and a half were spent in blissful warmth. Azriel took out his phone, and they proceeded to watch a bunch of comedians on Netflix. They laughed at the same jokes, and Azriel found it endearing.

“I think we need to get a tree,” Azriel decided at some point. “I would’ve thought that you’d be completely Christmas-obsessed and everything would be covered in Christmas spirit. Kind of like in ‘Elf’.”

Elain sighed and frowned.

“What?” he pushed, stroking her head.

“I didn’t feel like it this year, I guess,” she said lamely.

“Why?”

“I dunno…”

“Come on. Tell me.”

“I am not feeling festive, I suppose.”

The vague admission didn’t sit right with him and he turned her face up, so he could look at her.

“What happened?”

She bit her lip and sighed,

“I don’t know…I guess I didn’t see myself in this place, under these circumstances, at this stage of my life,”

“What circumstances?”

“Single, I suppose,” she sighed again. “I figured that by 28, I’d be married, maybe even with children. For sure with someone significant in my life. Now I'll be 28 in less than two weeks, and I guess I just broke up with my long-term boyfriend? I am not even certain where we stand with him. And then there is you, and you are all kinds of confusing,”

“I am not confusing,” he argued. “I am your boyfriend. I don’t really care that you can’t bring yourself to acknowledge this yet, but I am. You ain’t single. You are mine. And if you want me to put a ring on your finger on your birthday, I will, if it will make you happy,”

Elain elbowed him harshly and snapped, “Stop talking like that! We barely know each other! We,”

“We know each other plenty. What don’t I know about you and you don’t know about me? Short of an anal probe, you’ve asked me every question imaginable. You know what I like to eat, where I grew up, how I fuck, what I wear, where I live, and I know that you love your pug, and your sisters, and that sometimes you are lonely, and that you love watching couples that you set up end up married and happy, and you’ve been hurt in love, and you love apple crisps and are sweetly rough around the edges despite being a Lady.”

“I don’t know how you…fuck,” she cleared her throat.

“I can certainly show you that right now,” he offered. “I’ve been ready to fuck you since you’ve been eyeing my happy trail the day we decorated for Halloween,”

“WHAT!!!!” she cried out. “I was not!”

“Sure were, baby, sure you were,” he teased and squeezed her ass cheek hard, “you think I didn’t notice? You think I didn’t let you watch for as long as you wanted?”

“Oh my god, you are horrible!” she smacked his bare chest. “I wasn’t. It was just there. Your stomach! You were showing it to me,”

“Uh-uh. Anyways. This Christmas will be brilliant, for you and for me. A new start, a new beginning,”

“Beginning of what?” she asked timidly, her expression hopeful and eager. She liked what he was telling her.

“Us, Elain Archeron. Us. Argue all you want, but I ain’t letting you go. And I am taking Pinky to get us a tree!”

He drove the point home by reaching and cupping her breast. He squeezed it tightly, bouncing it within his palm. It didn’t escape him that Elain wasn’t wearing a bra under the t-shirt, and her soft full tits have been rolling around all evening long next to him and driving him crazy.

She squeaked in surprise, and attempted to throw his hand off, but once he brushed his thumb over her nipple, she stilled and her breathing hitched audibly.

“You want me to show you how I fuck?” he asked quietly, swiping his thumb over the hardening nipple.

“You promised,” she protested breathlessly. “You said you won’t pressu-,”

“I did,” he nodded. “I did. But let me promise something else now then,”

“What?”

“I will fuck you, Ellie. And you are going to love it. And you’ll ask for more.”

When Azriel was 9 years old, he stole an eclair from a bakery. His class was some kind of class trip to the theatre. They were brought to Covent Garden and he walked around there, eyes wide open, his mind blown. He’d never been to a place more exciting, or beautiful, or wealthy. All he knew were hospitals, drab council estates, and his football, which he often played on concrete. He gawked at the shops, all the restaurants and pubs, and the bakeries. Gorgeous displays of wonderful things everywhere.

Azriel always had quick, sticky fingers, and though he didn’t like thieving, sometimes, it was necessary. Basic necessities were hard to come by, and when he could, he stole–socks and belts, toothpaste, combs, tissues, candy. He made it a point not to steal for no reason, and not get in trouble needlessly, over something trivial.

That day, they passed by some French sounding bakery–it was all gleaming marble, and outlandish displays of croissants and pastries, cakes and tarts, and rich people drinking coffee and buying bread. Nine quid for a loaf of bread. Outrageous!

But there were two types of eclairs that he couldn’t tear his eyes from. One covered in a chocolate glaze, and another sprinkled with hazelnuts and decorated with cream roses. He couldn’t stop looking at them–two girthy decadent stunners that called his name. All he wanted was to sink his teeth into one. Or both.

So he went for it. He pinched them. Wasn’t difficult. He was small and no one paid any attention to him. Besides, even if someone did notice him, they’d assume he was here with a parent. It took a minute, tops. In and out, and two eclairs were nestled in a paper bag, and then in his school bag. Later that night, he and Cassian snuck out, and ate the eclairs sitting on the crumbling stoop of a building.

Up until tonight, Azriel Night had never tasted anything better than those eclairs. Never did anything more sumptuous, sinful and blissfully delicious pass his lips. Never.

Not until he sunk his teeth into Elain’s soft, delicate neck.

In his defence, the scent of her hair, her body, the mix of honey and jasmine and vanilla made him dream of those delectable pastries. And somehow, his lips found their way to her cheek, and then, to her gorgeous neck. His mouth travelled the length of her throat, placing hungry, hot, desperate kisses on the lightly perfumed, warm skin.

Elain moved and moaned softly beneath him, and he woke up fully, feeling her luscious breasts splayed beneath his chest, her small, firm hand gripping his bicep sleepily. He wasn’t sure if she was awake or if she was also dreaming. But once he started, he couldn’t stop. He buried his face in the crook of her neck and inhaled, while he kissed over the trembling pulse point, the hot pumping of blood erratic and needy beneath his lips. He licked her vein, before kissing gently below the ear, only to return to the neck, and cover it in more kisses, peppering it with small bites.

Elain’s eyes fluttered open and she looked up at him in the darkness.

He wouldn’t have it. Didn’t want any arguments or debates about this. Gripping her chin firmly with his fingers, he turned her head to the side, allowing him all the access he needed to her neck.

“Shhh,” he shushed her. “Let me have this…”

Her nails dug into his skin, but she didn’t fight him that moment. Her eyes closed and she inhaled deeply, back arching sexily and a needy little moan escaped her lips. He kissed her deeper, and his hand slipped back to her breast, which he covered with his palm. God she was soft. Soft and smooth and delicious in every way. And as his teeth and lips dug deeper into her skin and he sucked on her mercilessly, while realising that nothing compared to her in any way. She was his. That fluttering little heart beat for him.

He squeezed her breast harder, his fingers closing on the nipple, as he twisted it between his fingers, pinching it hard enough for her to gasp loudly.

“Oh fuck,” she moaned, “oh god,” because he pulled and pinched her nipple again, causing her to shudder next to him from both pain, but also pleasure.

Azriel figured that she hadn’t experienced true pleasure in a long time now. He was going to fix that.

“Enough,” she moaned at last and pushed him away slightly. “Not yet…”

“Okay,” he said quietly and pulled away from her neck. Flipping on his back, he covered his eyes with his forearm and willed himself to calm down. Elain was panting next to him.

When he glanced at her, her hair was a mess, her lips were parted, and she was holding her breast, while a bruise bloomed on her neck.

“Shit,” he whispered, rubbing his face. “I am sorry. Did I hurt you?”

She was silent, staring at the ceiling.

“Ellie, I am sorry,” he muttered worriedly, “forgive me. I am sorry, I overestimated my,”

“It felt good,” she said suddenly.

“Oh. Well, that’s good, right? I thought that I was too,”

“Rough? Yes. But you warned me about that,”

“And…is that okay?”

She thought about it and said, “No one’s ever been like that with me. You are different,”

“I should hope so!”

“You are so heavy,” she commented, “I love your weight. You are solid and so muscular,”

Amused he repeated, “That’s what you like? My weight?”

She pressed her fingers to her neck, “You bit me.”

“Yeah. Sorry about that,” he whispered sheepishly. “Didn’t mean to,”

“I think that you did. You marked me. I can feel the imprint of your teeth.”

Maybe he did mark her.

He bit her like a savage. Like an animal in heat during mating.

He’d never bit anyone like that before.

And he wasn’t sure what to make of it.

So he didn’t explain or say anything further. He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her to him, parking her curvy ass in the cradle of his hips. It seemed that she waited for him to say something, but when he didn’t, she tucked her hands beneath her cheek and settled in, with him holding her in his arms.

It was Piglet who nosed into Azriel’s neck, huffing and snorting, clawing at him lightly.

It was barely light outside, but that was to be expected. December in London wasn’t exactly full of sunshine and blue skies.

“He needs to go poop,” Elain groaned sleepily, though she made no effort to open her eyes and only snuggled closer to Azriel.

He smiled and patted her butt, before kissing her head and sitting up.

“Sleep, baby. I’ll take him.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, surprised.

“I am sure. Take a break. I’ll pick up his turds, no problem.”

She snorted a laugh and then turned away and pulled the blanket over her shoulder. Azriel climbed over her–totally unnecessarily–and made sure to sit on her for a second too, while she screeched and tried to swat him away.

“I thought you loved my weight?” he reminded her with a laugh.

“Not this much!” she yelled, and slapped his thigh. “Ohmygod, you are almost naked!”

“Sure am, baby. Nothing but a thin piece of cotton that’s standing between you and my cock n’ balls.”

“It’s too early for your sex talk,” she complained.

“Sweetness, when we are married, be prepared for some morning sex.”

“It’s especially too early for your marriage talk.”

“Never!”

“Make sure to put a coat and a hat on him,”

Azriel picked Pinky up and muttered under his breath, “You do remember that he is a descendant of wolves?! Now he eats fuckin’ meatloaf and wears a hat to go outside.”

At the word ‘meatloaf’ Piglet howled happily.

“That’s for Christmas,” Azriel promised him.

Leaving Elain to snooze, Azriel picked up his clothes, and then found a bathroom in the hallway. It was right across from Elain’s bedroom, where he didn’t dare go yet, but he figured that that’s the one she used for herself. When he entered, he was proven correct. It was the prettiest bathroom imaginable–with a gorgeous view outside, no less. As with everything in this house, it was a perfect combination of modern and classic, tiled simply with white tiles, it also had a modern tub, and a glass shower.

He already imagined their babies splashing in the tub and him fucking Elain in the shower.

Yeah, he always had a vivid imagination.

He looked around, snooping through the cupboards and cabinets. Elain had a moderate amount of products for her hair, only a couple of body lotions, which he sniffed, perfume–custom made, which explained her unique scent–period pads and tampons (he noted the brands, so he could buy them for his own place), same for toothpaste (they used the same one) and finally, he opened the medicine cabinet. No prescription drugs. Just a few utilitarian things and that’s about it, other than the flat disc, which he was pretty familiar with. He took it out and opened it. Low dosage birth control pills. He tsked, seeing as Elain wasn’t very careful about taking them. He figured that she probably didn’t care, since her ginger prick wasn’t here, but that also pleased him because she definitely wasn’t fucking anyone right now.

As he wrestled with Piglet, who was ready for a bath apparently, Azriel considered what to do. He found a pack of toothbrushes, brushed his teeth, noting that he was looking better than yesterday, combed his hair, and then slipped the birth control pills into the backpocket of his joggers.

No need for these anymore, sweetheart.

Did he feel bad about messing with Elain’s birth control–not really.

He just stole it.

At least he didn’t replace the pills with sugar pills, which he briefly considered.

He wasn’t a good man, and he never pretended to be one.

But he wanted his cum to fall in fertile ground, when the time came for that. Ellie didn’t need any birth control.

By the time he and Pinky returned from their walk, Azriel carrying two cups of coffee and a bag with pastries, Elain was up.

For a moment, he worried that she was going to question him about the pills, but she didn’t say anything, only laughing at Pinky’s ridiculous outfit. It was some kind of knit poncho with a hat attached to it. He looked like an idiot, but Azriel loved it, and so did Elain apparently.

“I love walking with him,” Azriel announced, setting breakfast on the counter. “No one pays attention to me. Everyone is only interested in him. Someone even asked him if I was his new dogwalker!”

Elain burst out laughing, while Piglet began zooming around the first floor and Azriel sat down across from her.

“I have a proposal,” she said at last, lacing her fingers together, as she stared him down.

He rolled his eyes and threw his head back.

“Oh god. I am not in the mood for proposals. Unless you are being a modern woman and asking me to marry you. Then, it’s a yes.”

“Well, no.”

“Figures.”

“But it is connected to marriage.”

He sipped his coffee and then said dejectedly, “What now, beautiful? You better make it good.”

“I promise to go out with you,” she announced grandly, and he laughed.

“Isn’t it a little too late for that? Considering that I am sleeping in your bed now?”

“No. Proper dating,” she insisted. “Like if you are my boyfriend,”

“I am your boyfriend,” he reminded her.

“Can you listen to me!” she snapped, and he rubbed the back of his neck before finally saying, “fine. What do you want?”

“You agree to go out with two more candidates,”

Shaking his head violently, he said, “no, no, no. No way. I am done with all that.”

“You’ve gone on ONE DATE!!!”

“No,” he corrected. “I’ve gone on three dates, with one person.”

“Exactly!” she did not relent. “With one person. That’s not enough. Nuala is one candidate. You must go on at least two more.”

“I don’t have to do anything. I am happy where I am at–with you.”

“Mr. Night,” she began, but he waved his hand,

“Fuck off with the Mr. Night, beautiful. We are done with all that. And I am done with the matchmaking. I am matched already.”

“Do you take pride in your work?” she asked seriously.

“Obviously.”

“And just because you are friends with someone from an opposing team, would it stop you from scoring against them?”

“Probably not.”

“Well, consider me your opponent.”

“That’s not even remotely the same. Your comparison is absolute shite. You aren’t my opponent. And I am not scoring against you. I wanna score with you.”

“Two people! Is that so much to ask? If it doesn’t work out, then we know that this is real,”

“I already know that this is real. I don’t need to go on dates with random lasses to know that I’d come back to you.”

“What if you are infatuated?”

“I am infatuated. But it’s much more than that. Also, why am I gonna waste time on courting others, when I have work to do with you. You are still all shifty and weird with me.”

“Because you are my client!” she exclaimed with exasperation. “This isn’t something I’ve ever even considered doing! Let alone actually…doing it.

“And I need to know for myself that this is right for us. For me. I have to know that I am not selfishly shortchanging you.”

“You aren’t,” he insisted. “But if I must, I will go out with two more matches. No more,” he warned her sternly. “No more, Elain. I am not kidding,”

“I understand.”

“If it doesn’t work out–which it won’t–I am done and done, and I am dating you. That’s it.”

“But you have to be truthful and sincere about it. Not just say ‘no’ to them because you want to be cross and contradictory,” she added quickly.

“Fine.”

“Good.”

“But if they aren’t for me, I will be honest about that too.”

“Fine.”

Lady Morrigan Court-Hewn.

30 years old. Socialite. Handbag and jewellery designer. Graduated from St. Andrews with a degree in International Studies. A fencing champion at the university, and an accomplished equestrian. Still rides professionally.

Previously engaged to Lord Vincent Eris Autumn, son of Earl Beron Autumn. Notable previous relationships include Prince Harry, Henry Cavill and a brief fling with Ronaldo.

Hobbies: Car racing (F1), horses, fencing and wine tasting

Today

And that’s how Azriel ended up here.

‘Professional drinker’ was definitely omitted from Mor’s profile. As was, ‘expert gold digger’.

As Dev drove towards Russell Square, Azriel checked his phone.

Baron Kier Court-Hewn lost most of his fortune about ten years ago. He bred racing horses, and five of his top steeds needed to be put down due to some disease that they all got. With the death of the horses, the family fortune dwindled. That explained Mor’s ‘research’ into everyone’s finances. It wasn’t surprising that Azriel was primed for the taking.

He wouldn’t have cared about the money thing all that much–it was understandable, everyone wanted money–if she weren’t so vocal about her cunty opinions about Elain, and her calling Pinky ‘lame and legless’.

It’s been a busy week and he was feeling antsy for not having seen Elain and Pinky for four days. He set up the meeting with Mor as soon as Elain got him her information, preferring to get that out of the way. Then he had to travel to two games, and even though he wasn’t playing, he still had to attend. There was a meeting with disadvantaged youths from East London a couple of days ago, and a whole day shooting an advert for Christmas with his team.

Thankfully, it was almost holiday time.

Once Dev pulled up to the townhouse, Azriel said, “don’t wait up”.

Dev smirked and told him, “I wouldn’t think of it!”

Bracing against the cold, Azriel rushed up the stairs and banged loudly on the door. Pink’s excited barking and scratching was heard on the other side.

“What is it?” came Elain’s faint question. “Piglet, what’s going on?”

Bark-bark.

“Is it daddy?”

Fuck yeah it’s daddy!

The next moment, the door opened and Elain was smiling at him.

“Get dressed, beautiful,” Azriel ordered. “Put a hat on Pinky. We are going tree shopping!”

#elriel #elain archeron #azriel #azriel and elain #pro elriel #elain #elain x azriel #A Match Baked In Heaven #new chapter #elriel fanfic #acotar fanfiction #Elriel fanfic #my writing #my fanfiction

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tallymonster · 11 months

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Memories of Us Chapter 5

Chapter list: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 |

So from this point on I'm going to be uploading on a slower speed, probably about twice a week at most just to keep working on it a little bit. Thanks to all the reblogs, likes, comments, everything! Keeping me going here, and it's pretty great ❤️❤️

Thanks as always to my darling @micropoe10 who read this and pushed me to keep going.

Inspired by @cheesy-cryptid 's piece 💜

Chapter 5

"seemed to stop my breath"

The night of the gala had arrived and Octavia was already exhausted from all the preparation. Not even the work she did to set up the gallery was this frantic. It started with an afternoon of trying on at least 15 different dresses, followed by an appointment at a fancy salon Astarion set her up in.

He insisted on paying for it, even though she kept trying to talk him out of it "Octavia, please. I know how much I pay you, just take the gift. Besides you work for me, you represent the museum. You have to look not like how you usually do, it's a party, dear. So be a good girl and trust my personal team."

Her hair is done in a half up, three roses made out of her own hair placed carefully on the back, the rest in curls cascading her exposed shoulders. It takes a while, but when it's done it's perfect. The dress she ends up with flows to the floor, its off shoulder sleeves flutter as she glides downstairs. It's black with flowers embroidered on the edges and up the center.

She's waiting for Gale outside her home, the black cloak she's wearing over her shoulders blows gently in the breeze. She adjusts her hair and fixes her dress. Gale strolls around the corner, he walks up the small set of stairs up to Octavia's door. He's in a black fitted suit, silver embroidery going up the legs of the trousers, lapels, and sleeves of the jacket as well. He holds out a small bag with a small ribbon on it.

"I felt like this gift was an appropriate apology for the whole 'walking in on you sleeping in a mess of documents with our boss' and of course tonight's festivities! I figured this would make your hair even more elegant." Octavia slides the bow off the top of the small bag, she pulls out a velvet box containing a moon shaped hair pin.

"You really didn't have to do this, you know. It was only slightly embarrassing." They smile at each other and she hands Gale the box as she places the pin in between the rosettes in her hair. "Well, what do you think?" she asks. "Impeccable. Simply Exquisite." Gale has a faint blush across his cheeks. He clears his throat and extends an arm out to her.

"Thank you, truly. You and Mr. Ancunin really know how to make me feel appreciated. You two are the best friends I could ever ask for, and I've only known you for about two months. Now I feel like I have to get you some nice pens or something." She chuckles as she links her arm into Gale's as they start their walk to the museum.

He smiles and confides in her, "I also wanted to thank you for accepting my request to attend tonight's event with me. The idea of bringing my mother was tempting," he grimaces slightly "but I'm glad you are here in her stead." Gale lets out a laugh with slight embarrassment. "She and our family tressym loved making remarks while I was trying to get ready, something about having a good time and not coming home without a wife."

They laugh as they cross the road, the museum's entrance aglow with the other guests filing in. Octavia exhales and grips onto Gale's arm a bit tighter. "Don't worry, these things are usually more talking about our work than ourselves, you'll be fine. Besides you have me! I'll be right by your side, unless you don't want me to be. You can tell me to go away any time." He winks at her and she feels the nerves melt away somewhat. She nods and pulls him towards the entrance, "Alright then. Let's do this."

Tag list (thanks to everyone who has asked to be tagged, it's extremely flattering 🥰 if anyone else wants to be tagged let me know!)

@justporo

@satanicspinosaurus

@sleepy-timaeus

@tragedybunny

@davenswitcher

#bg3 #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 astarion #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #astarion bg3 #my fic #fic tag: headcanon #fic: memories of us #long fic #its almost party time #should i start dropping hints in the tags?#see if anyone reads them 👀

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imaginesmai · 1 year

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Once upon a fairy tale - Ubbe Ragnarson (6)

Other parts: Once Upon A Fairy Tale Masterlist

Plot: the morning of the hunting raid arrives, and new feelings are revealed.

The hunting raid came sooner than you expected. After a week of being treated like a princess and not an unwanted guest, you considered for the first time staying a little longer.

When you woke up that morning, you were surprised by the sound of soft snores close to you. Ubbe was always the first one to leave the room in the mornings, and you had never woken up before him. But that day you saw him lying in the mattress on the ground, one leg falling off. You had not offered him the bed back, and he hadn’t asked, so someone had brought a mattress that was now an improvised bed.

Ubbe looked entirely peaceful, with his mouth partly open and his hair disheveled. From you were sitting in the bed, still under the covers, you could see his naked back and left leg. The thin sheet that was covering him last night barely let you anything to the imagination, and you felt any trace of sleep flying away from you, as other thoughts concerning those shapes filled your mind.

Color rose to your cheeks before you moved your eyes back to his tattoos.

Sleeping with a man was scandalous, but sharing a room with Ubbe didn’t feel like breaking any rule. You went to sleep facing different directions, turned your back while one of you was changing and avoided talking about it.

Still, it felt nice to share a room with someone, you thought. Back at Wessex, the only one who stepped inside your chambers were the servants to light a fire and prepare baths. You guessed that, given you would have to share your personal rooms eventually with a man, Ubbe wasn’t the worst choice.

“ ’y are you staring?”

Lost in your thoughts, you looked up from Ubbe’s tattooed back and found his half-open blue eyes, still laced with sleep. Not enough sleep, it seemed, to stop him from giving you a smug smile.

You quickly looked away and moved to the other side of the bed, ready to start your day and forget about that moment.

“Don’t stop on my account” he chuckled, turning on his side and watching you get up from the bed.

“I wasn’t staring. I was mentally asking you to stop snoring” you defended yourself, curling your toes when they touched the cold floor. “You snore a lot, you know? And you’re very loud. Also, it is very rude to sleep naked when there is someone else in the room. You look like a common peasant”

“Seems you have lots of things to say about me sleeping” he stared as you drew back the curtains. “And that you think a lot about me”

You noticed his eyes on your legs, which were barely covered by your night undergarments. The hot weather had arrived earlier that year, as if it didn’t want you to leave without suffering it. So, seeing as Ubbe slept naked and didn’t have an issue with it, you had been using a short nightdress above your knees and short sleeved.

Light filled the room and saved your blush, because Ubbe had to cover his eyes with his arm. Also, it gave you a brief view of his chest and lower belly, where blonde, dark hair started to grow. With the sun light, you could see every shadow of his body and guess what was hidden under the cover.

The servants’ words from last year appeared in your mind, and you looked away. Because you couldn’t afford to think about of someone else in that room, probably not so long from now, while you never saw him again.

“You could have warmed me” he complained, still not opening his eyes.

“It’s late. You should be already up”

Picking up your dress for the day and shoes, you locked yourself in the bathroom before he could say anything else. You only had a few hours left in Mercia; by night time, you would be back home, not taking the boat like usual, but crossing the border by land. Part of you wanted to spend every minute of that time enjoying his company for the last time. After sixteen years, it would be weird to never see him again, or at least not in the usual circumstances.

You should prepare yourself for the possibility of seeing him with someone next time, with the queen of Mercia, whoever he chose it to be.

Last night, after dinner, it really hit you that it was the last time you would step in that castle as Ubbe’s bride. As Ubbe asked you to keep your feet away from his face and you told him not to snore like a bear, it really hit you.

You had talked with your father and he knew your intention of going back to Wessex. He hadn’t said anything else, just hugged you tight and pressed a long kiss against your forehead.

When you exited the bathroom, your mood was on the floor; apparently, as was the day. The sun was no longer shinning, but dark clouds were covering it and giving the room a solitary make over.

“Has the bathroom offended you?”

Ubbe was still in the room, changed to his formal clothes and with his hair tied in the usual long braid. You didn’t answer, your lips pressed tight. In front of you, there was another empty morning, because with your father and him gone, there was little to do. If it rained, you wouldn’t be able to go out in the gardens, and Aslaug surely wouldn’t be an entertainment.

Before you could leave the room, Ubbe stopped you.

“Y/N”

The way his name fell from his lips made something to you, you didn’t know. As if it was a whispered chant. Standing in front of you, he crossed his arms and met your annoyed glance with a raised eyebrow.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, receiving nothing but a small pout from you. “You look like someone stepped on your flowers. You should look happier”

“Well, I don’t”

Ubbe waited patiently for you to answer, not moving from his place.

He too felt like things weren’t on its place. After his argument with Hvitserk the previous day, his head had been a mess. And he couldn’t say it was only because of his brother, since he hadn’t been the one appearing in his dreams.

That night, he had dreamt about you. It wasn’t the first time, but that time, it was different. You were standing in the courtyard again, dressed in a white dress while other people danced around you. It was your weeding, and he had tried to catch you.

Only for you to move through the crowd and away from him. If, once he had woken up, he had felt the need to check for your sleeping form on the bed more than once, no one needed to know.

“It’s just – the weather” you moved your hand in a vague gesture towards the window, looking away from him. “And it’s the hunting raid. Which means you’ll be gone and my father will be gone. And Amerie, the gardens’ girl, isn’t here, which means I’ll have to spend my last day in Mercia with your mother. You know how torturous will that be?”

“Since she’s my mother, I think I have an idea”

“You don’t. She doesn’t speak to me anymore!” you complained, knowing it was another excuse for your mood. “And – Hvitserk isn’t going either, which promises me an eventful day of staring at two people who don’t want me here”

“You can always come to the hunting raid”

“I can’t!”

You were growing more exasperated by seconds. It wasn’t the weather, it wasn’t Aslaug and it wasn’t Ubbe. You didn’t know why your mood was so foul that morning, only that there was a knot on your throat that felt heavy.

“I’m not allowed to go hunting. Apparently, last time I asked I could lose my vagina if I ride a horse, which I’ve been doing for years with a perfect vagina. As if their concern about my vagina was behind any of their prohibitions”

With an amused smile, Ubbe watched you as you ranted about the reasons they gave you when you asked. He knew you couldn’t go – didn’t agree, because he had seen you ride and hunt before, and you did it far better than any of the men who decided you couldn’t. As children, you had put dead rats on Ubbe’s bed in more than one occasion, and he had dared you to kill a pigeon by throwing stones.

To his surprise, you had.

Growing up with a girl like you, not afraid of getting dirty and hitting back, had kept his mind open on the woman’s role. He knew it wasn’t fair, neither that you weren’t allowed on raids or that you had to marry someone to rule.

“And today I’m leaving” you finished, meeting his eyes. “I should be happy because I’ll finally sleep in peace and won’t have to smell like horse in my room”

“I don’t always smell like horse”

“You do. All the time” you assured him.

Looking at each other, Ubbe noticed how close you were. Maybe you weren’t touching, but he had never felt closer. Not even when you had your arms wrapped around each other while you rolled through the ground. His eyes, without his brain consent, traveled down your nose to your lips, which were pressed in a thin line.

He noticed the small scar on the bottom one, probably his doing. For a moment, he wondered how they would feel. If they were dry or soft, if you would open them or make him beg for it.

If you would let him put his hand on your cheek and kiss you right then, without thinking about the consequences.

Before his brain could fully disconnect from the actions of his body, you talked.

“I should be happy, but I’m not, because now I’m not even sure I’m taking the right decision here”

You noticed how his eyes lowered to your lips, how he wet his with the tip of his tongue. Even though the sun no longer warmed the room and a cold breeze seeped through the windows, you felt warm. You wondered how many inches were between you, if they were enough so that you could grab his hand, maybe more.

You wondered if, leaning forward, you would meet his lips or you would have to lift your heels from the ground.

Before any of you could wonder about anything else, there was a knock on the door from the servant, who was there to make the bed and clean the room. As every other morning, only that they usually arrived when Ubbe was gone.

He moved away first, clearing his throat and letting the young boy come in. You looked down and blinked in what felt like forever, even more confused than when you woke up.

The sun didn’t come up. In fact, before breakfast was over, it started to rain.

Summers in Mercia were soaked most of the time, and it usually didn’t bother you. But as you ate your last breakfast, you felt like throwing punches to the rain.

The hunting raid would leave soon, and wasn’t cancelled because of the weather. The forest was close to the castle and there would be enough people to make it safe. If only, the animals would take cover from the rain and it would end sooner. You told yourself that it was for the better, as the sooner it ended, the sooner you would be home.

Ubbe and you didn’t talk during breakfast. Sigurd made small conversation and Ragnar tried to include you in the planning of the day, but it didn’t work. Not even your father, who had enjoyed his time with Ragnar like no other year, was talking.

From the kitchens, they served food fit for a king. Eggs with bacon, buttered bread, different juices and fruits, and many other plates that you hadn’t seen. You couldn’t tell if it was because of the raid or your departure.

Hvitserk nor Aslaug were with you that day. The prince wouldn’t be on the raid, you learned last night, as he preferred other activities, and Aslaug was nowhere to be found. That left a Lothbrok in the castle, so Ubbe could participate.

Before you could say goodbye or ask him if you would see him later, he excused himself and left, not looking at you. Soon after that, breakfast was over and it was only your father and you walking to the stables.

“Our things are packed already” Ecbert informed you, walking with his hands behind his back. “They must be finishing yours right now. But if you need anything, you can always tell them to wait”

“I know” you answered, looking at his hunched form. “Will we leave once you come back? Right after?”

“I guess so. There isn’t a reason for us to stay. Right?”

He looked at you with inquisitive eyes, stopped walking, and you doubted. Once the engagement was broken, you didn’t have a reason to stay. It would be a friendly separation, for the best of both kingdoms. It was the right thing to do.

“I was just wondering if we will stay for dinner. Because I haven’t slept much, and sleeping in a carriage is always uncomfortable. My back feels terrible after, and I get every type of bruises” you explained, nodding at him. As if you were making sense. “And – I know it’s rude to say, but father, maybe it’s best if you rested before the trip. After a long day the best thing you can do is rest”

“Are you calling me old, Y/N?”

“No! But father, I care about you. And your health. What if after a day out you get tired? It’s two days journey back home, maybe it’s best if we wait. Just for a day. Don’t you see?”

“What I see is you making excuses once more” he frowned. “Like you always do when the storms seasons end and you don’t want to leave Wessex. But now you don’t want to go back?”

“It’s not – you’re not understanding me!”

Before you could get more worked up, or snap at your father, he gripped your shoulder and gave you a small smile. There were wrinkles on his eyes, his cheeks and forehead. He did look old, and tired.

A knowing silence passed by, where he seemed to read your mind just by looking at you. That was how things were with him; he just knew. When you were faking the chicken pox, when you got yourself food poisoning, he knew. Growing up with him as a single parent made him know you like the back of his hand, and with those few, rambling words, he knew.

Closing his eyes before talking, he took a deep breath.

“You haven’t asked my opinion yet” Ecbert told you. “You have taken your decision, I know, but it’s a big one and you’re allowed to ask for second opinion. And I haven’t given your mine because it’s your choice, it should always be. But I have one”

“And what is it?”

“I think, Y/N, that what happened at the courtyard was unacceptable. No one should have to go through that, even less you. Because I love you more than anything, I want to leave right now and lock you away so it never happens again” he said, his voice breaking at the end. “And I will always be sorry that I wasn’t there for you, that I didn’t listen and broke the arrangement sooner”

“But?” you guessed.

“But, my sweet darling” Ecbert chuckled sadly. “I love Ragnar, I always will. I know it was a mistake that won’t be repeated while he’s king, because I have trusted him with your life before. And I know Ubbe. I see his father in his eyes, in his sense of responsibility, in the way he acts. He won’t let that happen again. I stand on my thought, Y/N, that if you let him, he’ll be a good husband.”

“You don’t know that”

“I do. Because he looks at you just as I looked at your mother”

It surprised you that your father talked about her. As a child, you were curious, and tried to learn about her life and their marriage. But your father grieved in silence, decided to spend the rest of his life taking care of you, meeting your every need and assuring you a future. That was why he approved the marriage proposal for two young kids from Ragnar, why he traveled for two days every year with his bad knee.

Your mother was a blurry memory for you, created with pieces of information you had obtained through other people. If your father talked about her, it wasn’t about their relationship.

So you waited in silence, watching as his eyes got brighter each second.

“She would have hated every second of the agreement, and would have probably fought Aslaug a few times. I’m not sure we would even be friends with Mercia anymore” he chuckled sadly, looking at you with grief and sorrow. “She… she was the woman of my life, Y/N. And we didn’t love each other when we met, but I grew to love her. You can too. Ubbe will take care of you, will make sure you have a good, healthy life. And you don’t look too disgusted with the idea anymore”

You weren’t, you thought. Staying meant losing the chance of choosing your future, but in certain way, you were making a choice. It meant uncertainty, because Ubbe had been nice while he thought you would leave. But that morning, you had seen his doubt.

Maybe what your father had always said was true, and you could grow to like him. Not to love him, not yet, but you could see yourself waking up in his chambers again, taking walks together and sharing meals.

“Let’s do this” Ecbert proposed when you didn’t say anything. “Let’s say I’m and old king, because I am. My knees won’t take well a hunting raid and a carriage trip back to Wessex. And my back certainly won’t survive it. So, maybe, we could wait until tomorrow. Maybe the next day. You never know with my age”

“Father, I don’t know” you admitted. “I don’t know if I want to stay, if I want this. It’s only been a week”

“No, Y/N, it’s been sixteen years. And you do know. You know that you don’t want to leave. So we stay”

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

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@66vikings

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writtenjewels · 9 months

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Partner part 4

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

Jason leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, waiting impatiently for Salim to wake up. Jason wasn't a morning person by nature, but he'd been too restless to sleep last night. The knowledge that Salim would get up soon was all that kept Jason from pacing the space.

It was only his second day here and Jason was nearly crawling up the walls. He needed something to do. Salim probably thought he was doing Jason a favor by giving him so much free rein; what Jason would prefer was some sort of direction. Today promised to be a good start.

Salim finally got out of bed. He padded around his room—Jason was quick to look away when the man started to dress—and then made his way over to Jason's room. He looked a little startled to see Jason already awake and waiting for him.

“Good morning.”

“Hey,” Jason nodded back. “You ever try grits?”

“I'm not sure what that is,” Salim admitted. His eyes darted curiously over Jason. “You already dressed and bathed?”

“Uh, yeah.” He actually showered, and he did it late last night. Jason hoped the hot water would relax him enough to sleep, but it somehow had the opposite effect. As for the clothes, they were brought in from his house by Salim's servants. The plain shirts and trousers were more Jason's style than the fancy stuff available in the palace.

“So what are grits?” Salim prompted him. “Is it the 'weird shit' you promised?”

“You shouldn't sound so excited to eat weird shit,” Jason teased him. Salim responded with a smile. The guy really looked nice when he smiled. Jason let out a cough to cut through the awkward feeling building inside him. “Grits are ground corn in milk,” he explained.

“That doesn't sound too weird,” Salim decided. “It'll at least be less messy than the Sloppy Joes.” His eyes twinkled in a clear hint he was teasing. Jason had to bite his lip to keep from smiling. “Have you decided what you want to do today?” Salim asked, gesturing for Jason to sit with him.

“I figured I'd keep ya company.” Jason spoke the words casually, punctuating with a shrug. Salim's eyes brightened and his smile grew wide. Jason's lips twitched up to match.

“We'll be holding hands when we're out,” Salim reminded him. He took Jason's hand as demonstration. The grip was unexpectedly strong and calloused. Salim leaned forward, the teasing gleam returning to his eyes. “But don't worry: I won't cuddle you. I have to draw the line somewhere.” Jason let out a soft snort and gently pushed the man away.

The two chatted as they ate breakfast. Jason found he liked talking to Salim and kept trying to say things that would make the other man smile. Salim, in turn, peppered their conversation with stupid jokes.

Jason almost didn't want the moment to end. But neither did he want to stay cooped up in the palace all day, so once the meal was cleared away he followed Salim into town. The moment they were outside, Salim clasped Jason's hand. Their fingers threaded together and Salim squeezed. The last time Jason held hands with anyone, he was probably seven or eight. It was a little odd doing it now.

The two of them went around like that all day. Jason mostly stayed quiet, watching Salim interact with the people. Inevitably someone would ask, “Who is this?” Salim squeezed Jason's hand every time and smiled. “My new life partner,” he answered. It was weird the first few times, but eventually Jason got used to it.

And he got used to feeling Salim's hand. Everyone they came across thought it was a sign of intimacy, but to Jason it felt like something else. It was comfort, assurance, security. He gave Salim's hand gentle little tugs and squeezes whenever the man needed a boost. I'm here, he said with every squeeze of his hand. Salim shot him a quick look and the smile returned to his face.

It was late when they finally returned to the palace. Salim lifted Jason's hand but seemed to second-guess whatever he intended to do, and let it drop.

“That wasn't too bad, I hope?” Something about that phrasing bothered Jason.

“It was okay.”

“I won't ask you to do that often, I promise.”

“I said it was okay,” Jason snapped, the words coming out harsh.

“All right.” Some emotion flickered on Salim's face but he turned his head before Jason could understand it. “I'm going to spend some time in the garden,” Salim announced. “Have a good night.”

“Okay.” Jason didn't know what else to say. His emotions were in a confused jumble. He tried to shake himself out of it. He was only here to get away from his shitty life; he only stayed so Salim wouldn't be bothered by the matchmaker anymore. There was nothing more to it.

So why did he feel so empty now that Salim's hand was no longer holding his?

#house of ashes #jason kolchek #salim othman #jason/salim #jalim #jason x salim #jason kolchek x salim othman

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soaps-hoe-141 · 1 year

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Drowning In The Depths

So my friend made a lil drawin of Price and Speck and I am absolutely in love with it. Look at them, cute af. Thank you for that @missmurder357

Part 5

Pairing: Price x Male!Reader

WC: 23.3k

Synopsis: Got a lil competition inbound, some more of Cerberus being the besto boi, and some NSFW content cause I truly just cannot stop myself. I am insatiable so feed

Warnings: NSFW smut, mentions of blood but I'm not describing it

The shower you'd shared with John hadn't lasted very long after you'd both already been satisfied for the time being. And as you both slipped back into the locker room you split up to head for your individual lockers. It was silent enough you could have heard a pin drop, not an awkward one though, it was comfortable. Like when you could call someone and just sit on the phone with them listening to their breathing for hours. You pulled on a pair of sweats and groaned as you took a seat on the bench in the aisle, hand sliding over the stitches in your thigh hidden beneath the fabric, testing the pain that sparked along your thigh at the touch.

Movement caught your eye and you turned to see John, now dressed in his jeans and t-shirt you’d seen on him earlier, those blue eyes watching you closely. As he took a step forward he asked, "You still good Speck?" His head tilted with the question, arms crossing as he neared you.

A slow nod followed his question in answer before you said, "Yeah I'm good." His eyes watched you, not believing you for a second and so you threw out the social niceties you usually stuck with when talking to people. A shrug lifted your shoulders before you grumbled out, "Tired. Been blown up,” you lifted the finger of one hand, “shot,” another finger raised, “knocked out, interrogated, fired I guess," you paused before muttering, "again," under your breath. That got the furrowed brow as you stared at the five fingers you’d already raised and lifted a second hand to count on it, "Got smacked in the face by a door. Almost got shot in the head. And then just got manhandled in a shower." One corner of the Brit’s mouth quirked up in a smug smirk before you huffed out and held up your eight fingers, "So yeah been a long damn day John. I'm fine, but I'm tired."

John nodded, smiling when you held up your hands to show him the tally, "That's fair." His eyes followed you as you stood back up from the bench and turned around to throw the two towels into your duffel bag. You needed to do laundry anyway, not like you had much to wash in the first place. After losing the one set of clothes to the explosion and subsequent blood stains, and even more to the makeshift bandages you were down to a pair of jeans, a pair of sweats, the pants you'd worn on the mission, and two t-shirts since you'd lost the other to your bloody nose. Well that and the Georgia Bulldogs hat you never went anywhere without, and the pair of cowboy boots shoved at the bottom of your bag with all the stuff that reminded you of home.

Arms wrapped around your bare torso without warning, his mouth beside your ear as he whispered, "You sure you don't want to come back with me, Love?" Oh God, you leaned back into him the moment that word left his mouth, "I've got all that room in my bunkhouse now since Ghost is gone. I'm sure the Lieutenant won't mind. Probably wouldn't even notice if you don't come back all night." It would be nice to sleep next to a warm body, well a warm body that wasn't a dog anyway. Like he was reading your mind he rumbled low, "He likes dogs. He'd take care of the pup. You wouldn't even have to ask, Love."

Oh yeah, you were liking the sound of this more and more. Every word he spoke was accompanied by a hum of satisfaction from your throat at the prospect. The pads of his fingers dragging their rough texture over the skin and soft curls of your bare abdomen. “Come back with me, yeah? I’d give you a nice massage, work all those aches out of your muscles.” A light kiss pressed against your neck before he suckled at the skin, you’d thought he was spent but apparently he was just getting started. “And then I’ll fuck you till the sun-” a buzz in the pocket of his jeans cut off his coming promises.

He froze and just like whenever your own phone had buzzed he waited as another notification went off. Damnit no, not now he was just getting to the good part, “Don’t stop now.” The request slipped out before you could stop it, and you could see the tumultuous look in his eyes. You could see his desire to listen but you knew the need to check was, annoyingly, far greater at the moment. Still his fingers squeezed into your flesh, stalled by your plea and yet still asking for your permission, “I didn’t mean that," you forced out a huff of amusement to put him at ease. "Answer it,” one hand pulled off of your stomach and slid into his pocket as he grabbed his phone, both of you frustrated with whoever it was currently trying to get in touch with the man behind you.

The phone was just out of your sight as he looked down at the message. It only took a couple seconds before he slid the phone back in his pocket, returning his hand to where it had previously been. “You gotta go then?” He nodded and hummed an affirmative against your shoulder, seeming almost disappointed in himself for leaving you behind. “I’ve gotta go see Soap anyway, you can give me that massage some other time. Not like I'm going anywhere yet right?” John seemed to tense at that, at the prospect you were going somewhere ever. He didn't seem to like that idea in the slightest and to be fair you didn't either but you doubted he got any say in upper management.

He pulled you tighter against him for just a few heartbeats before his hold began to loosen, “We should talk more though Speck. About us I mean,” the request made you tense up but he made an attempt to soothe your unseen worry with an easy smile. Quickly saying, "I'll let you know when I'm done,” he pulled away from you with one last squeeze at your hip. When you turned to find him he was already backing up towards the door, “Shouldn't be too long. They can't have gotten much out of the guy yet.” He seemed to think better of that statement and chuckled out a quick, “I hope,” before he unlocked the door and stepped out.

Alone again while you watched as the door closed behind him. He wanted to talk about you and him? Was there a you and John though? Sure it'd been some good fucks, well some really good fucks, but did that mean you were something now? Your only experiences with a relationship was a girl you'd gotten pregnant at eighteen and only married because that was what your parents had told you was the right thing to do. It'd been the only time you'd ever been with a girl before. You'd just wanted to see what it was like and to be honest you'd hated just about every second of it. But you'd been a horny teenager back then, you could have gotten off to a fuckin soup ladel back in those days.

But John was different, sure you'd recognized that the second he'd begged you on the couch to let him take care of you. When you'd said things you had no control over you knew he was unraveling you at your seams. But you weren't worth his time. You didn't even have a job anymore, and wasn't that all you were good for? That's what your ex-wife had always told you anyway. You remembered her vividly telling you, on more than one occasion that, "Since you can't take care of your kid, take care of this house, or take care of me I guess the only thing you're good for is that shitty paycheck you bring home every month. Even that doesn't take care of us though."

And she'd been right, the only thing you'd ever brought to your only real relationship had been disappointment, weariness, and nonchalance in regard to everything that had driven that woman up the walls. She could have screamed at you for an hour straight, she had before, and the most she'd get from you was a quiet nod or shrug. You never even fought back with her, it was how you'd been raised. Besides your job was to fight, to kill people, you didn't want to experience the same things just trying to sit at home and relax. Just give her what she wants and she will leave you alone. But you hadn't been able to give her what she wanted, she always asked for too much of what you didn't have.

Anxiety pounded in around you, clutched at your heart in a way that forced you to sit down on the bench. Good Lord, were you having a heart attack? You pressed your fingers to your neck, feeling for the pulse you knew would be racing just beneath the skin. Sure enough it was, your breathing getting rapid now as you fought the memories down. The other hand pressed to your chest, feeling the pound against your sternum. Letting your hands drop to your thighs you held them in an iron grip, arms shaking with the effort to control yourself. Can't control the past Speck, but you can control whether you pass out right here on this bench.

John isn't her, for one he's a fuckin man idiot, and God is he an attractive one. The thought washed a wave of amusement over you, a small smile turning up your mouth despite your racing heart. Here you were thinking you were in the middle of having a heart attack and you were still thinking about that damn Brit. A flash of his blue eyes in your mind broke your memories of the past, settled your racing mind long enough to feel the grip you currently had on your thigh. As well as the pain that was flared there the longer you held it. Your fingers released in a second and as you stared down a stain of blood spread on your jeans. "Damnit," you muttered, letting out a sharp sigh at the sight.

Always something. You didn’t bother with a shirt, Soap would make you take it off as soon as you got there to tend your wounds. Besides, both of yours smelt more than ripe and you weren't about to walk around after a shower smelling like sweat and wet dog. Slinging the packed duffel bag over one shoulder you headed back to the bunkhouses. Cerberus lifted his head when you came in, Ghost was nowhere to be seen still and he didn't look like he'd moved anything in yet either. "Hey Cerberus, you good in here?" His tail wagged lazily behind him but he made no attempt to move, exhausted after everything that had happened and still recovering.

To be fair if you weren't 100% sure you'd popped a stitch in your thigh you would have probably crawled into bed right then and there. But the little growing stain on your pants made it very clear you needed to go find the dark haired Scotsman. Leaning down you ran a hand over the top of his head, his fur had dried completely by now and the smell of wet dog had begun to dissipate, clinging only to the towel he’d been laying on. “Alright buddy, hier,” it took him a couple seconds to get up and make his way over to you. When he finally did, you patted your bed and said, “Hopp,” watching him jump up and look back at you before you finally said “Geh Schlafen.”

Cerberus immediately laid on his side, tail thumping a couple times against the sheets before he closed his eyes. You gave him another rub between the ears before heading back out the door. So close, nearly done. Just gotta get this checked out and then you can sleep for however long they allow it. One last push, that’s it, just one last push.

Down the stairs and down a couple bunkhouses until you get to the one that Soap and Gaz shared. Up the stairs and a light knock on the door. Your progress halted for a moment though not sure if you heard a voice inside or not. Another light knock and you were certain you heard a voice that time.

You pushed the door open and took half a step inside before your eyes locked on the bodies currently bent over the bed and half naked. The one behind with dark hair and a mohawk, that was Soap. The other with blonde hair that you didn’t recognize. They didn’t even turn around, probably hadn’t even heard you over their own sounds and the quiet words they were saying to one another.

Why didn’t they lock the door, Jesus Christ, so much mental scarring could have been avoided if they had just locked the damn door. Instead you pulled the door shut behind you, letting out a sigh as you took a seat on the step, rubbing at your eye while you shook your head. You’d already seen too much of these men’s personal lives, too damn much.

It wasn’t like you were trying to sneak up on anyone, you were just trying to get your wounds looked after by someone who had a little more than a staple gun to do it with. Slowly your head tilted as you thought to yourself, ‘Who was the guy Soap had been plowin?’ Big, bigger than you that was for sure. Huh. Well you’d see soon enough whenever they were finally done. If you made it that long anyway, they looked like they could go at it for hours in there.

In the meantime you sat on the porch, the stain on your leg growing slowly and the sounds inside the bunkhouse behind you increasing in volume right along with it. Base residents came by every now and then, probably taking a shortcut to wherever they were actually headed. They glanced at you on the steps with a weird look, probably wondering who the hell you were and why you were just sitting outside for no reason in this heat. That was a fair question you were beginning to ask yourself at this point.

Without even realizing it at first your leg began to bounce, a low grumble leaving you, “I need a pack of damn smokes. Wonder if anyone else on this team smokes.” A sigh left you as you reached to check your phone for the time but then remembered you no longer had one. Damnit why couldn’t you just sleep? Well you could always just duct tape something else to your leg…or just duct tape by itself since you were kind of running low on clothes now. It would hurt coming off, but damn if it wouldn’t be nice to go to sleep right now.

Fuck it. You pushed yourself up from the stairs and were about to head down when the door finally opened behind you. A masked face slipped out from behind the heavy door, freezing the moment hazel eyes landed on your face even as the door shut beside him. Your expression stayed flat, lips pinched into a tight line while an eyebrow raised curiously up at the Lieutenant. Well you’d found out who the big guy was, but damn if you wished you hadn’t. You know he really didn’t look like a blonde underneath all that grease paint and his mask.

“What are you doing here?” The thick accent fell out of the man’s mouth, almost catching you off guard. Yeah, definitely the Lieutenant. His shirt was incredibly wrinkled with the collar pulled halfway to the side and baring half of his shoulder. The balaclava was barely covering the neck you knew was sporting several hickeys and bite marks. You’d seen them on his pale flesh. Some were older than others so it was unlikely that this was the first time they’d ever been together. Unless this was some kind of Sacred Band of Thebes thing they all had going on, God you hoped not. You were pretty open minded but the idea of bouncing around from one guy to another was just not your forte. But then again…No, not for you.

The two of you continued to stare one another down for a moment, the memory of watching the two of them even if it had only been for a second was still trapped in your memory. He expected an answer though, or at the very least for you to get out of the way and quit blocking the stairs. “Soap said he wanted me to come by to put new bandages on. Hence the no shirt. Well that and it's freakin hot.” He nodded slowly, eyes narrowing at you through the mask before you asked, “What are you doin here though? You haven’t even moved your stuff over yet.”

You could see the flick of his eyes, the attempt to mask the truth as he did his face when he answered, “Same.” And the second you crested the top of the stairs he was moving by you and disappearing down the path. Presumably to move his stuff over to your shared bunkhouse. Shaking your head you pulled the door open. Immediately you were assaulted by the smell of sex in the room and turned to find Soap in only a pair of shorts laying on his bed with his hands behind his head.

He peeked open a single azure hue before closing them again, his smile beaming at the ceiling while he stretched out like a cat in the sun. Good Lord he was a cocky one wasn’t he. “Hey, I’m kinda tired. You mind being quick about this? Pretty sure I popped a stitch.” That caught his attention as he sat up, looking up at your bicep and forearm with a furrowed brow. You tapped your thigh instead and his eyes traveled down to the growing stain of red on your pants.

A finger pointed you to a chair as he pushed up from the bed, “Take yer pants off then Speck. Gotta plug yer leak first.” That turned the corner of your mouth up in a smile. At least he was funny after he made you wait on the damn stairs. He dug around under his bed for a second before dragging a big black bag out and dropping it in front of the chair you were sitting in. He plopped himself into the chair opposite you. Watching as you lifted your hips and slid your jeans down your thighs revealing the slowly leaking wound to him. “Damn, how’d you do that then?” He’d already donned a pair of gloves as he reached forward and inspected the wound carefully.

Shrugging you leaned back, “I’m not sure. I was just kind of squeezing my thigh and when I looked down it was bleeding through my jeans.” Soap gave you a skeptical look then, but didn’t question you further especially when you grumbled out, “Only got two pairs now. Two pairs of pants and two shirts, what a wardrobe. Gonna be walking outside as naked as the day I was born here soon.”

The Scotsman gave a low chuckle of amusement as he reached down to dig through the black bag, “Is that really all ye got?” Your quiet nod had him shaking his own head, “Ye might want to talk to Price about that. Or maybe Laswell since yer all about that covert shite." He pulled out a needle and worked to thread it, with his tongue sticking out just a bit between his teeth as he focused.

You watched for a few quiet seconds before asking, "So what was Ghost doing here? I was expecting him to already be sleeping. Everyone's gotta be exhausted after all that bs today." Blue eyes flicked to you as he missed the eye with the suture, scowling at the needle as he tried again.

Finally the suture threaded through and he finally answered, "He was just asking if we're working out tomorrow." He lied so easily it nearly made you smile and call him on it. There wasn’t even a hint of hesitation in his voice as he spoke, a masterful performance. You might have even believed him if you hadn't known any better.

The memory of their bodies slapping against one another still scarred your memory and burned your retinas though. "Huh, is that right?" He nodded his affirmative as you went quiet and he slid the needle through your skin, restitching the wound. Another question came to mind then, "Soap I've gotta be honest, you don't exactly look like a medic. You seem more like the guy Cerberus would alert to every time you're around. Explosions and fire and all that."

His smile reappeared on his face in an instant as he answered, "That's cause I am.” When he glanced up at you he caught your confusion so he explained, “Price sent me to learn all this stuff. He said I kept getting hurt or some shite, it was kind of funny actually there a few times. Said if I was the one that needed it all the time I should be able to fix myself up because apparently that’s just efficient or something. Which is pure mince.” You nodded at that, as he pulled out a roll of fresh bandages and started to wrap your thigh. "Besides no one else really knew any medical stuff back then so having someone who knows the basics at least is a good idea."

Another quiet nod and he taped off the bandage on your thigh, waiting till you pulled your jeans back up before he went to work on your arm. "Since you asked me a question I think I should get one myself." What’s the worst that could happen? Questions were harmless, you didn’t have to answer if you didn’t want to. Your quick nod was the only encouragement he needed to keep going, "So, what's up between you and the Captain? You two know each other or something?" Well that was a less than ideal question he could ask. Questions in fact were not harmless it seemed, and he more than expected an answer if the look he was giving you right now was anything to go by.

Shifting in the chair you leaned away from Soap trying to think of a viable answer before finally giving him a shrug not daring to meet his eye, “No one knows me Soap. That’s how it’s supposed to be. I’m just your average guy with a dog that you see walking down the street and then you forget. Nothing about me is memorable, nothing about me is meant to be recognizable. That’s the point.” He eyed you carefully, obviously your explanation wasn’t doing it for him. He knew you were avoiding answering the question. You couldn’t lie to him. Fuck, come up with something, say something, anything, “What about you and Ghost? What’s up with you two?” Now that shut him up. For a moment anyway.

Soap’s words clammed up in less than a second while he thought about how to answer that question. You watched as he leaned over your extended forearm wrapping the bandages around your wound, “He’s my friend and you’re avoiding my question Speck.” He smirked up at you through his long, dark lashes, “Why is he so pissed off at you?” Oh that’s what he’s talking about? Well shit you thought he’d figured out that John and you were doing the same thing that he and Ghost were.

Anger you could explain. Anger was easy for you, “Probably because I’ve been thwarting all of you for eight months and you couldn’t even figure out who I was, why I was doing it, or even how I was doing it. I showed all of you up with just me and a dog and a guy trying to kill me.” Soap pressed the tape on the end of the bandage at your forearm and narrowed his gaze at you with a good natured smirk on his face.

He moved up to your bicep and shook his head, “Oh now that’s jobby.” He pressed against the wound there to draw out another shift in the chair from you, “You didnae thwart us, you were taking their families ye bawbag.” You gave him a shrug as you looked down where he was wrapping your arm. You’d gotten the conversation away from you and John at least, but it still made you uncomfortable to talk about the people you’d hurt.

The look of nonchalance, the look that could have rivaled a corpse’s, spread over your face at the memory. The mask you put on to hide the feelings that raged beneath. “It doesn’t matter how I did it, Soap, it just matters that I did it. Me and a dog did what you and the rest of your squad couldn’t.” Soap scoffed at that as he slapped the tape onto the last bandage and you kept pushing his buttons with your words, “You and the rest of those guys never would have even gotten us if Cerb and I hadn’t just been put through an explosion.” The Scot sat back in his chair, mouth open in disbelief at what you were saying even with a smile on his face, “And don’t forget the fact that I was being chased by more than just yall.”

Soap crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head, “What ye think yer better than us then?” You gave a shrug with a smug look coming over your face in place of the nonchalance, “Oh now that’s just- No yer not, we could take ye even on yer best day. We are literally the best out there. That’s what we do,” Soap threw his used gloves into the trash as he stood back up, moving to put the bag back in its place as well.

You stood up and smirked, “Correction, you’re the best the United Kingdom has to offer. Not many to choose from there I’m afraid.” You saw the laugh shake his shoulders as he bent over, disbelief obvious in his gaze when he glanced back at you, “It’s a bet then Soap.” A dark brow raised at you in question, watching as he stood back up from where he was sliding the bag back under the bed. “Cerb and I win, you buy me a bottle of the good stuff, you guys win and I’ll admit the UK is better than the US.” You fixed a smug smirk to your face then, “We’ll wipe the floor with your asses. Easy as pie. Anything you want to do, we’ll win.”

A step towards you, crowding your personal space as you continued to smile down at him, “Yer on then. Tomorrow 13:00. Sound good ta you?” You tilted your head to one side, glancing above his head before tilting your head to the other side as if you were contemplating his challenge. Finally you gave him an answering nod, “Good then. Go get some sleep. I don’t want ye complaining tomorrow when ye lose.” Backing up slowly from him towards the door he added before you left, “Meet at the mess in the morning. I’ll let the guys know what we’re doing.” A quick nod and finally you were out the door, free to go back to your bunkhouse. Thank God.

Trudging up the stairs you headed into the shared bunkhouse. Ghost barely even glanced up at you from where he was laying down with his phone in his hand as he scrolled through something. Stripping free of your jeans you threw them on top of the duffel at the foot of the bed. You didn’t bother with the sheets too tired to move Cerberus who was in no shape to move off the bed anyway. His chocolate eyes followed you from where he was stretched out on the pillow. You wrapped around his body rather than move him, electing to use him as your pillow rather than the fresh pillow you’d been allotted for the time being. It didn’t even take five seconds once you’d pressed your face into the black void of fur before you were dead to the world around you.

There wasn’t nearly enough time between when your eyes closed and the furry, black pillow beneath you was shifting and whining. “Shh Cerb,” you groaned into his brindled fur but the second you spoke he was standing up and forcing you off. You rolled to your side and cracked open an eye, staring at the waving black tail that had made its way over towards the door. Your eyes closed against the harsh light streaming in through the two windows that all the bunkhouses sported. Surprisingly your internal alarm clock hadn’t woken you up and there was certainly no phone to do it instead.

The rumbling voice from the door was the only thing that jolted you back into the present and the situation you now found yourself in, “Good to see you’re still here.” John stood at the door bringing you back to reality and the memories that came with it. “Figured you ran off again or something,” your look of confusion as you sat yourself up on your elbow prompted him to clarify, “My bunkhouse. You were supposed to be there last night after you got through with Soap. I was waiting for you, Speck. Something happen?”

Ah shit, you’d completely forgotten about that after you’d made your bet with Soap. You’d been so exhausted, your entire body weary and aching, last night it’d slipped your mind as you basically fell into the bed across from Ghost. Instinctively you flicked your gaze to where the Lieutenant was supposed to be. Thankfully the bed was empty of the large body.

“I, um, I forgot, shit my bad” you answered lamely, sitting up in the bed with a grimace as the injuries flared to the forefront of your mind. You felt bruised and broken from everything that had happened. Battered from the explosion that had thrown your life into the chaotic mess that it was beginning to feel like now. “Sorry, I was exhausted, I didn’t mean to blow you off,” you pushed yourself up to the side of the bed, stretching your muscles out with a languid roll of your body. John was watching you as Cerberus paced the room back and forth, his energy reserves seemingly restored now.

Standing up on shaky legs you took a step forward, Cerberus darting in front of your feet and tripping you up accidentally. A strong hand splayed across your chest, your own hands grabbing hold of his sides as you steadied yourself. He was wearing clothes but you could still feel the warmth beneath the fabric of the fatigues he was wearing.

You could remember the scarred skin just beneath where your hand was resting on him. It was a bit jagged like he’d been cut with a knife there, and as you ran your fingers over it you swore you could feel the textured skin there. His whispered words against your ear had you struggling to breathe though as he asked, “You good there, Speck?” His fingers were wrapped around your ribs, and you became glaringly aware of the fact you weren’t wearing a shirt. Nor were you wearing any pants and the blood rushing below the waistband of your underwear was moving faster than a river.

Nodding quickly your voice went up an octave as you answered and tried to back up before you realized that would be ten times more embarrassing than just staying still, “Yeah, yeah I’m fine.” You shifted in his grip, this wasn’t your fault right? You’d just woken up to the voice of the man you’d been wanting for eight months. One time in the shower wasn’t enough to end that streak of starvation. Clearing your throat you tried to keep your voice casual this time, “I’m sorry about last night, it was a long damn day John.” There was a smile on his mouth when you looked up, his brows raised in a way that was annoyingly endearing. Stepping back slowly you glanced out the window catching sight of the sun, “What time is it?”

The smile fell before he answered, “11:30 why?” Your eyes went wide in front of him, causing his dark brows to rise with a bit of worry in his gaze. Clothes, you need clothes, and Cerberus needs to take a piss and you need to take a piss. God too much to do and not enough time to do it before you had somewhere to be.

His hands let you go as you took a couple steps back and answered, “I made a bet with Soap yesterday to try and get out of his bunkhouse a little faster.” Turning you moved towards your duffel before going through the last pieces of clothes you currently owned. A quick sniff had you recoiling as you dropped it and shook your head in frustration, “Damnit I don’t even have pants.”

The man behind you cleared his throat and you turned to see him patting a set of fatigues as he laid them on the table. “He mentioned something about that at mess this morning. Laswell is handling getting you some other clothes for more clandestine things and another set of fatigues, but I had an extra set of these laying around for today at least.” Damn did that man look good standing in the light of the window with that little smile on his mouth. Knowing he'd just saved your ass from the shit talk Soap would have dished out for a lame excuse like 'I didn't have any pants.' God he was perfect.

Stepping towards him you smirked down at the clothes, flipping the collar back on the shirt before asking quietly, “How did you know my size?” Fingers grazed over your hip, his other hand reaching for your chin to tilt it up as he pressed a kiss to your lips. Once again stepping into your personal space with renewed fervor to taste and feel you. A deep hunger was aching in the both of you that hadn’t been satisfied by your relatively short time in the shower yesterday. It was not even a fraction of what you had missed out on over the past eight months. And in no way was it satisfied by what little time you'd been able to spend together so far.

His hand slid down your side, mirroring the other at your opposite hip. Lips danced over yours as his finger played a familiar tune over your bare skin, turning your thoughts to mush until you could think only of him. How did he do that? God he was absolutely magical. The hands at your hips moved around to dig into the flesh of your ass, and he smiled against your mouth as your hips rolled against his. Both of you finding a familiar ache that needed to be sated and knowing only one person could satisfy it right then and there. Your teeth sunk into his lip right before a whine sounded from the door, claws scratching against the doorframe and breaking your concentration.

There was a soft chuckle against your mouth as the hands pulled you flush against him again, a promise for later now as the both of you began to cool off. “I pay attention, Love,” he finally answered your question. Another quick kiss pressed against your lips before he pulled away and muttered, “Plus I have one of your shirts. You left it at my house that night,” his hands slid back up your back before he finally stepped back, just narrowly missing tripping over the now pacing dog.

A sigh fell out of you at the loss before you were able to get your head back on right. You glanced at Cerberus who was still pawing at the door with his quiet whines. Damn if you didn’t love that dog like your own son. “Thanks for the fatigues, you wouldn’t happen to know where Soap wants me to go, do you? Or maybe what he's cooked up?” You pulled the pants on as John watched with eyes that held nothing behind them but impure thoughts. Before you caught his attention with a quick wave and broke him from his trance anyway.

He sniffed and ran a hand over his mouth before shaking his head, “No clue what he has planned for you no. He just mentioned we’re all supposed to be at the mess by 13:00.” You pulled the shirt on over your head as he continued, "Figured I should come make sure you were awake. And, well, still intact enough for a bet." He eyed you with that smug smile that made that little voice in your head say, ‘Show him just how intact you are.’

Not right now though, you had a bet to win and a meal to eat. “Hier,” you said with a gruff voice, taking a seat on the edge of the bed as Cerberus ran at you, taking a seat between your knees while you fitted him with his vest and lead. Slipping it around your waist you stood back up and found John's gaze again, "So where's the mess then? Cerb and I need to eat before we do whatever this is." Your fingers ran over the head at your hip as the Brit led you out of the bunkhouse.

The mess hall was brimming with bodies, thick with the nearly overwhelming noise of idle chatter between friends. It seemed the lunch rush was already in full swing. Joining the line with the dog at your side, your eyes followed the Captain as he weaved through the people to a table occupied by the men you'd met in the squad. Even the blonde woman was there, the one who had taken the prisoner yesterday. Maybe you’d finally get to meet her then.

The line moved slowly as you filled your tray with enough food for you and to slip some to the Dutchie, protocols be damned. Dancing through the mingling bodies with Cerberus at your side you finally made your way to the table where everyone else was sitting. Konig, Watcher, Soap, and Ghost sat on one side with the blonde woman on one side of John and Gaz on the other. It left you with only one place to sit, across from your new roommate and next to Gaz. Cerberus laid down next to you on the floor, out of the way so no one kicked or tripped on him when they passed by..

Shoveling in a mouthful of food you finally tuned into the conversation they were all having. "-heard Cap so panicked. Thought he was gonnae stroke out when I found the earpiece all smashed to wee bits on the ground. Sayin’ the feckers done run off without us." Watcher gulped down some of his drink, a smile on his face as he sat between Soap and Konig.

"Da," Konig answered as he looked between the blonde woman and Gaz. "He had that man on the ground yelling at him. The whole time the man is just yelling back 'No English! No English!' And the Captain is still asking where Speck is and shaking him like a, um," the German paused. Turning to Watcher and asking, “How do you say Schlagsahne?” The ginger seemed to think for a second before he leaned over to whisper something to Konig and the big man nodded quickly, “Skooshy cream.” John was taking a chilled sip from his own glass, closing his eyes against the teasing from the team with a poorly hidden smile on his face.

You however were looking between them all and shaking your head before asking, “The fuck is skooshy cream?” Eyes turned to you, seeming to just notice you’d sat down. Meanwhile your eyebrows were still raised in question, wondering what the hell they were talking about.

Gaz laughed beside you and shrugged, “You know mate, the squirty cream you get from the supermarket. You shake it up real good, it’s white and foamy.”

Another shake of your head in confusion as you asked, “Are ya talkin about shaving cream?” The Brits around you shook their heads in unison, you could even see amusement hidden in the hazel eyes across from you behind his mask. The big man tilted his head back and you saw his mouth open beneath the mask, acting like he was spraying something inside. Your head tilted until Soap finally made the spray noise to accompany it and it finally clicked, “Oh! I get it, you’re talking about whipped cream. You brits and your weird ass names, I swear man.” You shook your head and took a bite from the pile of food on your plate before slipping an apple slice down to the dog beneath you.

John was the one who made a disagreeing noise in his throat as he leaned forward on the table to look past Gaz at you. “Our weird names? It’s not our fault Americans don’t know proper English.” There was a smirk on his face when you looked sideways at him, nearly choking as you tried to laugh and forgot you were still stuffing your face full of food.

He watched as you chewed a forkful of the food, finally swallowing down most of it so you could actually take in a breath and answer, “Proper English? Not my fault Americans learned how to say everything we need to in the least amount of words possible. Yall are just jealous cause you’re over there piecing together thirty sentences to say what we can say in ten words or less.” Taking a long drink from your cup of water you pulled the tray of food closer and leaned over to take another bite. You hadn’t realized just how hungry you were before but it had been way too long since you’d last eaten a real meal.

It was Soap who finally turned to you and asked, "Alright, alright so what the fuck actually happened in there huh? You went in and all we could hear was, 'blah blah bark growl blah' from yer mic and then a gunshot." The Scotsman didn't even attempt to mimic the languages you had been speaking inside the home, knowing he would never be able to even come close, especially only from the memory of you speaking.

You smiled around your mouthful of food and shook your head, avoiding the eyes on you from around the table. Ripping off a piece of the meaty portion of whatever this was you’d gotten from selection available. A hand slipped under the table and you felt Cerberus licking it off the tips of your fingers before his head fell back to the floor. You expected all of them to have been back to talking to one another but instead they were still watching you expectantly, waiting for you to give your account after having heard everyone else’s side of the story.

Shifting on the bench seat, no longer used to having so much attention on you, you gave a quick shrug, "He told me we couldn't talk outside so I followed him in. Figured I was dead whether I went inside or refused so might as well make an attempt to get what we needed. Plus I had Cerberus and he wasn't alerting so I figured…Fuck it, you know?" Chuckles in varying degrees of cynicism echoed around the table as you lifted your cup to your lips and took a long drink of water.

A raised hand from the man beside you stopped you from going on as he asked, “Fuck it? That’s the only plan you had?”

Swallowing hard you shrugged and nodded at Gaz, “Well yeah. Fuck it is about the only thing I think when I’m making a decision. Either I don’t go in and I come back empty handed and you kill me for not keeping up my end of the deal,” you paused to see Ghost nod slowly and continued, “Or I go in and they kill me the second the door is closed. At least goin in I didn’t have to worry about getting smacked in the skull by a sniper I couldn’t see however many yards away. So I went in.” The others around the table seemed to be both confused and concerned.

All except for Ghost who was nodding as if he agreed with your assessment of the situation you’d been in at the time. “Well he was acting weird so I asked him if someone else was inside the building and low and behold there was. He failed to mention there was another exit back there or that there were two of them, but whatever. So I grabbed a knife from the kitchen and went to the first door down the hall. And I would have commed you but I couldn't exactly speak in English at the time. Didn’t want them to know I was coming. That’s why I switched from Pashto to Farsi mid-conversation." You paused to take another drink and another bite of the food, handing some more down to Cerberus.

Watcher raised his hand then and you glanced at him, head tilting before he asked, “You speak Pashto and Farsi?” A quick nod had him asking another question before you could speak, “How many languages do you actually speak?” He seemed simply curious but it had you shifting on the bench again. People only asked that question when they thought they could exploit it, at least that was usually your experience with them anyway.

When the others seemed to get a hint of curiosity though you got the sense you were expected to answer. “Well if you’re talking about just straight up fluency then ten. If you’re talking about how many languages I know enough of and understand enough of to hold a basic conversation then it gets a bit muddy.” The confusion around the table prompted you to clarify as you cleared your throat and sat up, “So technically I know Arabic, Pashto, Farsi, Spanish, English, Hebrew, Swahili, Zulu, Yoruba, and Oromo all fluently. However, I do know some basics in the Niger-Congo dialects but there are so many dialects in that region it’s kind of hard to count how many I would actually be able to speak and converse in and understand.” The eyes around the table were beginning to make you uncomfortable with their stares as you added quickly, “So yeah, I speak ten languages fluently.”

Another shovel of food to take a quick breather as well as a drink before you continued, "So I went to the first door in the hall. Had Cerberus go in first but the guy we tracked down got out through another door and then out the back exit. I didn’t know there were two doors for one room, you know? So I went after him down the hall with Cerberus but all the sudden I get smacked in the face by a fuckin door. There was another guy in one of the rooms." You shrugged and tilted your head, "And I took that personally. So I put a knife through his arm, sent Cerberus in through the door, and then I took his gun. Must have lost the earpiece during that little altercation, you all saw the rest though I guess. Saw enough to find me at least." Ripping another portion of the meat off you slipped it under the table to the waiting dog beneath.

Gaz clapped you on the back and shook his head, "Fuck it, mate." You nodded at that and tipped your cup towards them before tilting it back and downing what was left of the water. The dark skinned Brit beside you turned to Soap then and leaned forward, “So now that we’re all finally here are you gonna tell us what’s going on?” The dark haired Scotsman glanced your way as if you were gonna say something but you were still downing your breakfast and lunch combo, too busy to pay him any mind now. Besides you were finally out of the spotlight you weren’t about to thrust yourself back in unnecessarily.

Soap finally cleared his throat and said, “Well cowboy over there and me made a bet yesterday. He thinks he’s better than us.” Eyes turned to you in unison and you shot your gaze back down to the plate feigning more interest in whatever this jelly-like stuff on your plate was than the conversation currently being had. “So I figured we’d put him to the test, lads. Sniping, clearing house, I mean the works, see how good he really is. If we win he has to admit that the UK, and more importantly Scotland, is better than the US. If he wins we pitch in and buy him a bottle of the good stuff.”

They all acted as if they weren’t interested in what Soap was selling, but anything having to do with competition and bets had more than piqued their interest. The woman on the other side of John spoke up next, “So then what am I doing here Soap? I’m not involved in this.” Another American? Huh, that was interesting.

The Scot held up a finger and nodded, “Aye ye are Laswell. You’re gonna be our neutral party and therefore our scorekeeper.” She seemed to think for a moment before finally nodding her agreement and Soap cast his glance around the others sitting at the table, “So how’s about it lads?” Sounds of agreement rose up from everyone at the table then as Soap turned your way, “Whenever you’re done eating then, Speck.” You smirked his way and lowered the tray below the table.

Cerberus finished off the rest of the food on the tray before you slid it back on the table and shrugged at Soap, “We’re ready.” Soap pushed up from the table, beckoning everyone with a wave of his hand out of the still crowded mess hall. The group followed in staggered packs, Laswell talked quietly with Watcher and John while Gaz and Ghost muttered together and Konig and Soap were joking together as they led yall. You lagged behind the group, watching them all with quiet interest. They’d definitely been together a long time, and they obviously had deep roots with one another.

“First up,” Soap’s voice drug your attention up from the asphalt you’d been watching pass underfoot, “Who is the better sniper?”

You glanced between the sniper rifles on display and the men who were obviously pleased with this being the first challenge, “You know Soap when I said we’d beat you at anything I meant more like cleaning house drills.Things that tested both Cerberus and I, not seeing who the better sniper is.” The dog barked unprompted at that, as if he agreed and wanted something to do now that yall were up and moving.

Ghost huffed as he grabbed one of the rifles off the table, inspecting it for a moment before he said, “Cause you know you’re going to lose. Now hurry up,” he started towards the three stations already setup. You lost track of him as you turned back to the tables.

Two more rifles were currently waiting on the table in front of you. Your head tilted as you looked at them taking a step forward and jokingly asked the Scotsman, “What’s this one for Soap? Is Cerberus supposed to be taking shots now too or something?”

A deep voice made you tense then as it answered for Soap right by your shoulder, “That would be mine, Speck.” John took his rifle off the table and followed Ghost to the three stations currently set up for yall. You shook your head and let out the breath you'd sucked in, a quick glare flashing down at the rifle. “So what then yall get two tries and I only get one?” You questioned Soap as you followed behind the other two men.

The Scotsman shook his head following beside you, “You’ll get two tries, the best of those two will be what Laswell scores. They each get one try,” he pointed to John and Ghost in turn. You gave a slow nod of understanding before Soap added with a grin, “Unless Cerberus wants to take your second set of shots for you. He might be better than you, Speck.”

Your eyes locked onto Soap before you muttered, “Brummen,” listening to Cerberus’ growl rumble out of him towards the shorter Scotsman. The little flinch made you smile as you reached down to run a hand over the dog’s head, chuckling at his reaction.

“Would ye stop doing that?” Soap sounded exasperated but you could see smiles from the others behind you. “He’s going to start thinking I’m lunch or something!” The man grumbled at you before pointing to your target down range, “Get ready. Or you won’t be winning shite,” another light chuckle left you as you knelt. Casting a glance to your left and right where Ghost and Price were already sighting down range you knew this was going to be bad. Christ you were about to get fucked in this first competition and you could already taste it. Just swallow the bitter pill and get this done with, you’d hit it out of the park with the next one…hopefully.

Setting the rifle down you laid on your stomach, glancing to your right and muttering, “Platz.” The dog sunk down to his belly and you set the stock against your shoulder. Aiming down the sights you let out a sigh, muttering to the Dutchie beside you, “Hope you’re ready Cerb, we’re gonna have to blow it out the water after this.” You caught sight of Ghost on your left turning your way, watching as you fiddled with the scope for a second and adjusted yourself on the ground.

The Scottish voice behind you caught everyone’s attention, all three of you on the ground rolling to look behind you at the man, “Ok boys! You each get five shots at five hundred yards. Except for Speck he gets ten, five on each of the two targets down range.” They both glanced your way before nodding and letting the Scot finish, “The best out of Price and Ghost gets judged for us, and the best out of both of Speck’s gets judged for him. Laswell is keeping score. Got it?” The Scotsman received three quick thumbs up as the three of you rolled back to your stomachs.

It was the woman who took over after that, “Ghost you’re going first. Ready Lieutenant?” It took a few long moments before Laswell finally said, “Fire when ready then.” You watched the man closely, his chest rising and falling with slow breaths until the gun finally went off. A resounding bang echoed by your ears, the other four shots coming in quick succession once he’d gotten a good feel for the trigger.

He flipped the safety back on and let the stock of the gun settle back on the ground as he sat back on his knees. He turned back to Laswell and you listened as the woman said, “That’s gonna be hard to beat.” You turned to catch sight of her with a pair of binoculars up to her eyes as she stared at the target Ghost had been aiming at.

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath. Running a hand over your forehead as you turned towards Ghost, “How bad is it?” The Lieutenant glanced your way and you heard the laugh from him rather than see it with his mask still on. The big man shook his head as he continued to stare down range. Well that was definitely not a good sign.

Shifting on the ground you picked the stock of the gun back up, holding it to your shoulder as you sighted down range. Ghost was still chuckling to your left while you could hear the others whispering behind you. “You’re fucked Speck,” the deep British voices on either side of you were finally kind enough to inform you.

You cast a sideways look at them before sighing out, “Yeah no shit, Sherlock.” Aiming at the target you took in a breath and flipped the safety off. As you let out your next breath you squeezed the trigger, nearly surprised when it finally went off. A bit heavier than you were expecting but hey you hit the target. Half a foot below the inner red. “Son of a bitch,” you adjusted slowly to the quiet laughs around you, putting them out of your head. Never had you claimed to be a sniper, and thank fuck for that or this would have been so far past embarassing.

Another shot and this one was three inches too low, and it drew out another round of laughs. Again you adjusted and the shot went high this time. Too much. “Are you even trying, Cowboy?” Soap asked behind you and you raised a hand over your shoulder, middle finger high in the air in a one finger salute. “No sniper school in the US then?” You shook your head and adjusted again, this time the bullet hit the edge of the red at least.

The next two shots danced around the red and then your first set of shots were done. Laswell hummed behind you and said quickly, “That certainly isn’t gonna do it Speck. You’re up John,” your eyes flicked over to the man on your right. He was stock still, but you didn’t see tension in his form. You could see the rise of his back with every inhale, and the fall every time a breath left him. He held the stock of the rifle against his shoulder, staring down the range at his target.

The sight was akin to watching a painter envisioning their masterpiece before putting it on canvas. Or a composer hearing a tune in their head before they played it. To be completely frank he was beautiful and 100% without a doubt completely in his element. And you, well you were so completely distracted by him he could have aimed the rifle right at your head and you'd have been none the wiser. Too busy admiring the way his body seemed to relax into the rifle at his shoulder, more than comfortable with the weight against him.

He took a few moments longer to set up his shots than Ghost had, adjusting the scope of the rifle a couple times, whispering something to himself about wind and bullet drop. However when he took them it was in much quicker succession, emptying his clip in under seven seconds, you counted every single one, before lowering the stock to the ground and sitting back on his heels. “Nice grouping John, you’re getting a bit slow though. Should start taking more shots at the range,” he huffed to your right and when you glanced back Laswell was smirking behind the binoculars. They were obviously joking, so they’d definitely known each other for a while.

It brought the question to your mind again: Who even was this woman? You had yet to be formally introduced to her but the rest of the squad seemed familiar with her. It was just you in the dark at this point then it would seem. Though you wished you had been acquainted with the only other American on your new team. "Last round for you Speck, fire when ready." Her voice broke you from your thoughts and you shifted on the ground again, aiming to the target on the right this time.

Just breathe and squeeze the trigger slowly, and don't make a fuckin fool of yourself. That's it, that's all you gotta do. Deep breathe in, stock of the gun to your shoulder, safety off, deep breath out, squeeze the trigger, gun fires, red dot hit. It was the first one you'd managed to get a clean shot on yet and pride ran through you at the accomplishment. Don't get cocky now though, you've still got four more to hit. Another shot, and another clean hit through the red, nearly flush through the first hole. Another shot and it veered an eighth of an inch to the left, but it was still cleanly through the red. Three down and two more to go, you've got this Speck just keep breathing. Another shot and you're over adjusting again, calm down, half in the red and half off, you could hear the woman behind you already docking your score. One last shot then you were done, and that's when it always falls apart isn't it. A beautiful pattern and grouping thrown off by a wind you couldn't possibly have foreseen.

The shot goes wide to the left, missing the red by an inch. You push yourself up to sit back on your heels, hands bracing on your thigh as you glance over your shoulder at the woman. It wasn't necessary though, you already knew you'd lost. She shakes her head, "141 gets the first win." Soap pumps a fist in the air, quietly celebrating their win as you turn back to look at the targets set up down range.

John and Ghost stand up on either side of you, the Lieutenant asking Laswell, "Who did better? Me or the old man?" Old man? John was far from old, or maybe you were just saying that cause he made you feel like a teenager again. That was certainly a possibility. Laswell however wasn't divulging that information as she handed Soap his binoculars and stepped away from the two men. "Come on Laswell, who won?" She merely shook her head much to the Lieutenant's annoyance.

Standing up you grabbed your rifle, putting it back where you'd found it on the table and glancing at Soap. He was smirking as he watched you, but he was quick to stop when you gave a little smile and chuckle. Losing at this wasn't worth being upset over, "I'm not a sniper Soap. I got a dog so I never had to do all that math and bullshit." John laughed as he put his rifle back on the table as well and joined the others of the group, shaking his head as he went. It was the truth though, you'd gone to EOD training before you'd let them throw you into marksman training, fuck math. "What's next Soap? I'm dying to know."

The Scotsman cleared his throat and caught the attention of everyone once again as they all quieted around you, "We're running the obstacle course next, get ready!" Groans resounded from many a mouth as Soap shot glares around to the rest of the squad, "This is for our pride as men, as Scots and Brits and Germans. Git yer heads on right lads, we have a competition to win." They all looked at one another, he was surprisingly motivating when properly motivated himself.

John however was not taking the Scot's bait, "I'm not running the obstacle course Soap. If he manages to beat every single one of you at it with a dog strapped to his waist then he can have that win as far as I'm concerned." You smirked at the men in front of you, now an obstacle course that you could do. Both you and Cerberus were more than capable of giving them a run for their money on that.

The Scotsman seemed to think on it for a moment before nodding, it wasn't worth it to argue with John on this, "Fair enough, Captain. You can go with Laswell and wait for us at the end then." With that the blonde American and the brunette Brit headed off in their own direction, muttering together as they went. Soap turned to the rest of you and beckoned you all with a wave, "Alright so it's a five kilometer circuit. Speed and stamina, you've gotta have both if you want to win this." You most certainly did, five kilometers so that was three miles. Shit that was easy pickings for you and Cerberus, that was less than a daily run for the two of you.

Stopping next to a wooden marker, Soap turned back to you, "There are obstacles along the way that both you and the dog have to get over. Don't cheat, man that's just sad, aye?" You gave him a nod, like momma always says God don't like cheaters. "Unless there is physically no way for Cerb to do it, like with the tire flips." Another nod and he pointed at the line drawn in the dirt in front of you. "Line up then, I'll let the Lieutenant count it down though. Have at it Ghost," the Scotsman shot the big man a smile as he joined the growing line of men.

It was you, Cerberus, Ghost, Gaz, Konig, Watcher, and Soap all at the line as you unclipped the lead from Cerberus' collar and whispered, "Fuss." He was attached to your hip, looking up at you with his tail wagging behind him. You had to give it to the Dutchie, he was always up for some friendly competition. Especially when it came in the form of showing off his athletic abilities.

Ghost cleared his throat and took a look over everyone's head down the line on either side before saying, "On go. You go before I'll drag you back and have you doing push-ups till you pass out." He got quiet noises of agreement from the men around him, including one from you and a soft yip from Cerberus at your prompting. Another glance down the line before he said, "3, 2, 1," he paused to glare, assuring no one was making an early break, and then yelled, "Go!"

You took off, Cerberus bounding at your side along the clearly marked trail. Your thigh was already starting to burn, and fuck if that bandage wasn't chaffing the shit out of you. You would be aching all over by the end of this thing and you knew that for a fact. Ignore it. You had a task right now and you would be damned if you weren't about to clean up at this thing. Watcher and Konig were the first two to fall behind the speeding group, though to be fair neither seemed all that interested in the competition to begin with. Especially not when it came to running the course, the two two seemed more than happy just to watch everyone else duking it out. They were probably just in this for the PT at this point, the PT and the laughs.

Coming around the bend you hit the first obstacle, a crawl through the mud under rope netting you dove to your stomach. Cerberus was right behind you, you could feel him inching forward between your thighs as you both crawled through. Ghost, Soap, and Gaz were on par with you, trudging through the silty dirt at your shoulder. The second you were out from under the netting you were back on your feet and running. Cerberus let out a few loud barks behind you before he caught up, sticking to you like glue as he always did. Though you had to admit he was pushing you faster than you were used to, it was like the Dutchie knew you were competing and was trying to get you moving faster.

None of you seemed willing to give in at this point, arms pumping as you all urged more speed into your already grueling pace. It was doubtful they were even considering the length of this course at this point, more focused on not letting you and Cerberus out of sight. They weren't considering that you'd been running at a dog's pace for nearly twenty years straight, even longer than that really. This pace was as close to a jog as Cerberus would let you run. Having to keep up with the most athletic animals in the world had made this easier than they could ever imagine though.

The tire flips were where you finally started to pull ahead. Despite the burn in your thigh and arm at every flip of the huge rubber obstacle you made it to the end first. Ghost was right behind you and the dog that was near howling at you like a drill sergeant to go faster. The big man was struggling though, he was fast but could he keep that pace up the whole run? Maybe if it weren't for the thirty other things you had to do in between all that.

Your stomach nearly dropped at the sight of the next obstacle ahead. A moment of doubt in Cerberus' abilities wormed into your mind as you hesitated. Two platforms about ten yards apart from one another with thin rope nets, the holes big enough Cerberus could get his leg stuck if he wasn't careful. The two platforms were about twenty feet up in the air, with a ladder on one side and a rope down the other. Ghost pulled ahead of you as you hesitated a bit, reaching the ladder before you and starting the climb up with ease. Damn you should have been the first one on that ladder. You had to get up there before Soap and Gaz got here or else you were gonna be out of this. Fuck it.

You were right below Ghost as you started the climb, glancing down to the pacing dog beneath you and saying, "Hopp." It took him a second as he worked it out in his mind, looking up at the both of you climbing and turning the command over in his mind. This wasn't the first time Cerberus had climbed a ladder though and you were certain it wouldn't be the last. You were a quarter of the way up as the Dutchie started up the rungs finally. Just as Soap and Gaz came around the bend in the trail and watched the climbing dog with surprise in their eyes.

A smirk found your mouth as you focused again, pulling yourself onto the platform behind Ghost who was already crossing over the net with ease. By the time he was dropping down using the rope on the other side you were hauling Cerberus up onto the platform with you. "Hier Cerberus, kriechen," you started over the netting as he crawled behind you, albeit slower without the addition of opposable thumbs to grip onto the rope with. And the added danger of his limbs falling through the ropes.

Ghost had disappeared around the next bend but you could make it up, you had time. God you hoped you did anyway. Gaz and Soap both made it over to the other platform before Cerberus could get across to you, but as the Scotsman was climbing down he finally got to your side. Barking excitedly at you before you issued a quick, "Bleib," watching him settle as he inched towards the side. You grabbed the rope and climbed over the side of the platform, sliding down quickly. Feeling the burn in your hands as you did.

The second your feet hit the ground you yelled up to the dog who was still peeking over the side down at you, "Hier," and the missile came off over the side in a second. He was insane, Cerberus would have literally trusted you with anything. You held his very life in your hands with every decision you made and command you issued to him. The second he hit your arms his body turned to liquid and you softened his landing on the dirt. Forearms braced underneath his torso and feeling the way his muscles jarred at the impact. Within the next rapid heartbeat the two of you were running again. Ignoring the now climbing Watcher and Konig in favor of catching up to the disappearing Soap and Gaz.

There was no time for pacing yourself, not anymore. It was an all out sprint right by the two Sergeants even as Soap seemed to kick on another gear as he tried to keep pace though eventually he fell behind again. It took you longer than you expected to catch back up with Ghost though. He was halfway across the poles by the time you made it there. His elbows bent and his feet just above the ground as he used his hands to walk over the twenty yard span. Your shoulder was aching just thinking about it, but your pride would be aching more if you didn't get on with it and let yourself fall behind again.

Fuck it. Hands bracing on the metal you pushed yourself up on bent elbows. "Good lord," you muttered, an amused laugh coming from the man in front of you at the quiet curses falling from you. Pain was lancing through your whole shoulder now as a grimace bloomed on your face. But you were right behind the Lieutenant now, Cerberus pacing the twenty yards beside you and very nearly taking off with Ghost before he remembered he was with you, not the big man.

The second you were at the end and your boots touched the ground you were leaving Soap behind on the bars with the other quickly approaching Sergeant. "Christ, how is he so bloody fast!?" You heard the frustrated comment behind you from the Scotsman. There was no time or breath to answer him, you could only smile as you rounded the bend chasing after the Lieutenant.

As you came up on Ghost you could hear his rapid breaths. He'd been pushing too hard for too long, letting you and Cerberus run him at your pace rather than the pace he was used to. You pulled ahead, gliding by him seemingly with ease, though the hitch you could feel forming in your thigh knew otherwise. It couldn’t be too much further now, just keep ignoring it and finish strong. With no one left to chase it was just you at the pace you were comfortable with. Thigh and arm burning with the shocks of pain, still not really recovered from the aches and injuries of the day before but never would you willingly admit that. Lose or win you would take it in stride.

God, how long have you been running now? Just as the thought crossed your mind you caught sight of Laswell and John, both standing with crossed arms just beyond your last obstacle. A fifteen foot vertical wall with two ropes attached to either side. Could your shoulder even handle that? It hadn't even been able to hold your weight with the help of a climbing harness before. Oh this was gonna suck ass so much.

We're not stopping now, you didn't just run this whole course to give up at a frickin wall. "Bleib," the Dutchie stopped dead in his tracks, tail waving behind him as he watched you run towards the wall. Your foot found the wall first as you ran up, fingers wrapping around one of the ropes as you started the grueling climb, barely even glancing over your shoulder when you heard a curse. Cerberus’ barks followed after him but you didn’t have time to look behind you.

Ghost was here then. Move faster, Speck, because this big bitch will scale this wall in no time at all if you don’t. You slung your good arm over the top of the wall as you hauled yourself up. Cresting the wall you finally glanced down, he was halfway up this side. A smile found your mouth and you saw his eyes narrow behind the mask before you grabbed hold of the rope on the other side and slid down with a loud, "Oh fuck me!" Pain stung up your leg as you picked your foot up for a moment, but you could whine about it later. "Cerberus, hopp," you yelled back at the dog still waiting for you on the other side of the wall.

The Dutchie broke out at a sprint, Ghost stopping his climb as he hooked his arm over the top and looked back. Even from this side of the wall you heard the quiet comment from the Brit, "No fuckin way." Oh hell yeah. One of the most athletic animals in the world and you were so proud of the fact Cerberus was about to be able to show off in front of all of them.

Soap didn't stop his run for the wall as he came around the bend but you could see him staring wide eyed at the dog with Gaz right beside him. The two paused as they both grabbed hold of a rope and looked up. Cerberus scaled the wall faster than any man or woman could have. Running up the side with pure power and determination. He slowed as he reached the top, Ghost watching him hook his front paws over right beside him. His hind legs scrambled at the wood for a moment and worry coursed through you that he wasn’t going to make it. Fifteen feet was more than he’d ever climbed before. Shit had you pushed him too far?

A quiet whine echoed down from the Dutchie before you saw a gloved hand wrap into his scruff on the other side and give him the boost he needed to perch on the top of the wall. Right before he shot his body off the top and over the other side like the rocket he was born to be. You could see his eyes searching for you, your arms lifting to cradle his belly as he slammed into your arms and you softened his landing. You couldn't break it completely but you could minimize his risk of injury. It didn’t stop your own body from hurting but that was secondary to the pain of the animal’s. Protect him first and you could handle yourself afterwards.

The last couple of feet were easily yours as you finally collapsed beside Laswell and John with Cerberus barking wildly beside you already wanting to run the course again. The Brit was looking down at you with a smirk and his hands in his pockets, while Laswell was watching with narrowed eyes. You lifted a finger and said between heaving breaths, "One for me,” you held up your other hand with a little wince before finishing, “One for you." John shook his head and glanced down at his phone as he pulled it out of his pocket.

There were a few seconds of silence before he leaned over to whisper something to Laswell and then said to you, "That's a new record Speck. Congratulations. You beat Ghost’s old record by half a second." You gave him a thumbs up before letting the tired arms fall back over your eyes. Trying to get your breathing back under control.

Listening to Ghost hit the ground a few feet away before he too joined you with his heaving breaths, taking a seat with Soap and Gaz in tow. Konig and Watcher showed up a minute later, dropping down on the other side of the wall not breathing nearly as heavy as the rest of you had been. John didn’t seem too happy about their seeming laxness though as he told them, "Keep slacking like that, you'll be running the course for the next week. Until you pass out. Pick up the pace next time you two."

Watcher and Konig both nodded as the ginger answered for them, "Of course Captain. Sorry," and a few silent minutes passed as everyone caught their breaths.

Laswell finally broke it though with a quick, "Speck won that round just in case anyone was wondering." You shot a pleased smile at everyone gathered in the group then, rubbing Cerberus between the ears with a few quick and quiet words of praise for him.

Soap rolled his eyes though, "Yeah Laswell. Figured that one out when I watched his dog fly off the top of the wall like he was about to elbow drop a fucker through a table." A low laugh escaped you at the thought. God you loved this dog, "Alright whatever, next up we're cleaning house. Let's go," the Scotsman pushed himself to his feet helping Gaz up next to him.

A groan nearly fell out of you at the thought of moving now. You'd put everything into winning that obstacle course without any regard to the challenges that would come after it. Now your shoulder was aching and your thigh was burning. A break was what you needed but the reprieve wasn't coming any time soon sadly. Instead a hand was thrust into your line of sight, the familiar calluses drawing your eyes up the long arm to his ocean hues. Taking hold of John’s hand he helped you to your feet, waiting as you clipped Cerberus' lead back on his collar before you both trailed after the rest of the squad.

His voice was quiet, meant only for you as he whispered, "I didn't think you would be able to beat Ghost honestly. That was impressive. He has held that record for a long time now," his eyes found you for a quick moment before he focused on the group ahead. The praise pulsed through every limb, invigorating your once tired body. Striking new life into your exhausted limbs, "You're looking a bit tired though, Speck. Does that mean you're not coming with me to my bunkhouse tonight?"

Oh fuck. Your abdomen tightened at the words he was using to hide his intended meaning. At the dirty thoughts now running rampant through your mind and completely unchecked. Pressure was building and you needed to stop it before anyone else caught sight. Looking up at the Brit you caught his smirk. That asshole, he knew full well what he was doing. Man was playing dirtier than a five dollar whore. And the worst part was you couldn’t stop the reaction he was getting out of you either.

Your mouth turned into a scowl as you muttered back to him, "Keep it up and I'll make you regret it tonight John. Quit trying to distract me." Speeding up you merged with the rest of the group, putting him at the back of your mind for the moment. You couldn't afford to be distracted by the thoughts of that beard between your legs or those eyes looking up at you. Fuck no, not right now. You had a bet to win. Then you could have the Captain for as long as you wanted, or as long as you could manage anyway.

The next building you entered, by the grace of God, was air conditioned. You and Cerberus both needed to cool down after that long ass run. Ghost didn’t bother to stick around for Soap’s little summary of this competition as he made his way up a set of stairs to a viewing platform overlooking the whole thing. He must have already known what the Scotsman had in store for you.

This time only two automatic weapons were awaiting you on the table and you gave a thought at how long it had taken Soap to set all of this up. It had to have taken a long time to get the obstacle course setup for y'all, and not to mention all the targets he had to set out for the sniper competition and all at five hundred yards. He’d certainly put a lot more thought into this than you had originally thought he was going to. The man seemed to live for competition. It also made you wonder what the hell else you were all supposed to be doing today.

The Scotsman turned to you then with a smile on his face and a cocky tilt to his head, “Just me and you this time, Cowboy.” It’d been a long time since anyone had the balls to call you that. He really was an endearing one you had to give it to him, “We clear each room till we hit the finish line. You have one pistol and one automatic weapon, two pistol magazines and two automatic magazines.” He gestured with a jerk of his chin to the other half of the table before continuing, “We have a Fennec for you since that’s what you were using when we found you but the ammo isn’t live.”

You nodded slowly as you moved towards the table, lifting the gun with your good hand to test the weight. “Alright, I’m following you so far,” you gave him a quick smile. At least you could still lift it comfortably without having to use your other arm too much. Especially after that damn obstacle course. God you were never going to get over that damn thing.

He cleared his throat to capture your attention again and your eyes found him quickly, “You hit a non-combatant you get a penalty. We both get one chance, that’s it. You can watch from up top because I’ll be going first. Get a feel for it,” Soap grabbed his pistol and M4 with you watching quietly for a few moments. The Scotsman added over his shoulder as he made his way to the starting line, “The situations will also be changing with each round. Sometimes there will be hostages, sometimes you will have potential bomb threats. Your approach to the situation will be judged just as much as your time, so keep that in mind.” He did a once over of his gear real quick and turned to look at you, making sure you understood the rules.

“Got it,” you answered him and threw him a quick thumbs up. “Break a leg Soap,” you said before looking around when a hand tapped you on the shoulder. Gaz nodded to the stairs that everyone else was heading up prompting you to follow after them. You looked down at the rooms with people milling about inside as you leaned against the railing, resting your leg while you had the chance. Hostages it seemed was the first scenario picked for the Sergeant. You looked down at Soap standing outside the door as he readied himself. The second the door flung open Price hit start on his stopwatch and the Sergreant’s time began.

The first room had three enemy combatants, and it only took three shots for Soap to count them out before he moved on to the next door with surprising rapidity. He didn’t even take a second to slow down as it too flung open, a man with a gun held to a hostage's head shouting at Soap in Arabic to back up. The Scotsman didn’t bother to attempt to negotiate though, he simply pulled the trigger and before the other man could even try to react he was being called out. Soap freed the hostage and frisked them quickly for weapons before directing them to remain out of sight and behind him.

The third room was an ambush zone, you could see it before Soap even opened the door. One wall was longer than the other and as he moved to clear the left side an enemy combatant rounded the corner on his right, grabbing the gun in his hand and forcing the barrel down to the floor. A hard kick to the stomach and a quick flip of the pistol out of its holster to double tap the man and he was continuing on though.

Damn this kid was fast. Not once had he slowed down and stopped moving yet and he was very nearly done. The next door swung open before he reached it and he put a splatter of paint on the man’s chest, shoving by him into the next room. Three hostages were tied on the ground and he worked to cut through their bindings quickly. With his back to one hostage you watched as the woman slowly turned and pulled a pistol from her waistband.

Before she even got the weapon all the way out though Soap had her arms trapped at his side underneath one of his own. His own pistol under her chin as he said, “Drop the gun.” When it clattered to the ground he released her hands and reached down for the weapon to shove it in his own waistband and out of reach. Still pointing the pistol at her he ordered her to the ground, securing the woman’s hands before directing all the hostages safely out of the training room with his own hostage at the head of the group like a body shield.

“Time!” Laswell said to your left and you watched John click the button to stop the timer on his phone. You glanced their way as he showed the phone to the woman and she gave a slow nod at the numbers. Soap was at the top of the stairs in a heartbeat with a smug look on his face, he knew he was good and he didn’t care who else knew it either. “Two minutes flat Soap, good run. No penalties either.”

The Scotsman gave a quick nod, “Nobody’s faster than me, Speck. That’s why I hold the record.” Huffs of amusement rose up and shaking heads were seen from around the group but no one had anything to say in terms of disagreement. Even if Gaz did look mildly annoyed at the arrogance on display. “You’re up next, good luck,” your eyes narrowed at him as you headed back down the stairs with Cerberus at your side.

Grabbing the gun in your left hand you tested the weight again, experimenting with the pain in your shoulder as you stretched it out. “Just like the apartment buddy, we can do this one, yeah?” You knelt beside the dog, running a hand over his head and muttering, “Time to work for real this time.” His eyes bore into yours, still panting from the heat outside and the run. “Gib laut,” he barked once but as you gave the command again several echoed throughout the indoor training area.

“Zurück,” you muttered watching him back pedal slowly towards the door, until you held up a palm to him. He froze, even the barking stopped as he watched expectantly for whatever he was supposed to be doing next. Your eyes shot up to Soap then as you asked, “Rules of engagement for the dog?” It seemed he hadn’t thought of that based on the look in his eyes. That was like half of your kit and he hadn’t even thought about it?

Finally the Scotsman said, “No biting anyone, not in this scenario anyway.” He turned to yell at someone on the other side of the training area, “Go get the bite sleeves, Wade!” When he turned back you looked back down to the dog and set your shoulder to the side of the door.

Just like any other training session, except now you had people watching and you were down an essential tool you were very used to. And why did this feel like more of an audition than a fuckin competition at this point? Oh well, make do with what you’ve got. Adapt to the situation at hand and blow them out of the water. “Fuss, Cerberus,” he moved to your side and you pushed open the first door.

The second you stepped inside the first room you spotted your first hostile. One shot and one down. A sweeping arc around the rest of the room but no one else was in there. “Voran,” you muttered and the dog ran a sweep of the room, searching as you made your way to the first door quickly. As you lined up on the door he regrouped on you and you pushed into the next room.

A splatter of paint hit the doorframe near your head as you moved into the room and you raised the rifle to splatter paint all over his glasses. He stepped back and your eyes flicked around the room catching sight of a man hiding behind a desk. You fired a shot at the last second into his chest watching the man step back into the corner. Checking the rest of the room a growl came from Cerberus, and in the next second you heard the door opening behind you into the next room. Swinging around you double tapped two shots into his chest.

Keeping your eye on the now open doorway you muttered, “Voran,” again, watching Cerberus move quickly into the next room with you right behind him. It was the ambush point, the room Soap had almost gotten shot in the first time. This time though the dog froze and you watched him sink to the ground. An explosives scenario then, lovely. You checked the first corner and then around the second as well before you looked down at Cerberus.

His eyes shot up to you and then to the last door before you whispered, “Bleib,” and left him laying down behind you. He couldn’t assist so no reason to put him further into danger right now. Don’t slow down, your time couldn’t afford for you to stop now. You pushed into the final room and very nearly took a fist to the face as you side stepped. Instead the fist smacked into your right shoulder, the limb going numb at first before pain ran through your fingertips.

“Oh fuck you!” The barrel of the Fennec slammed into his chest as you fired off three paint rounds into his chest. A foot slammed into his chest next as you kicked the guy back with a growl. Your arm was still dead but at least the room was empty now. Except for the decoy bomb in the middle of the final room staring back at you. A grimace painted your face as your arm curled into your stomach and you knelt beside it.

The timer ticked down from forty-five seconds and you glanced up to the group staring down at you. Your next decision depended on how many people would be affected if you left it. This was a role playing situation though, and you didn’t have enough information to make a decision to disarm or get the fuck out. So you asked them quickly, “Is this a heavily populated area?”

Surprisingly it was John who answered your question rather than Laswell or Soap, “Affirmative. It’s a school and the children haven’t been evacuated yet.” You nodded slowly as you continued to inspect the bomb, pulling a knife out of your pocket as your eyes wandered over what you could see. Another spasm of pain jolted down your shoulder as you shifted but you could ignore it, for a few more moments anyway. You traced the wires carefully from what would have been the actual bomb to the timer. Disarm the timer first and worry about the possibility of a remote detonation second.

Unless the timer has a backup detonator, fuckin hell. Thirty seconds, was that even enough time? Three wires, all of them going into the same port on the timer, so the likelihood of a secondary detonator on the bomb itself was unlikely. Safe to remove the timer from the equation then, hopefully. It’s been too long since you were in EOD training. Which wire to cut, you ran your finger up the length of each wire again, inspecting it for a few more moments before you finally shook your head, you could be wrong but you only made a real mistake once right? The muttered, “Fuck it,” fell out of your mouth before you severed the wire.

The timer went dead and you inspected the rest of the bomb. Remote detonation was still possible. Removing the face of the timer with the knife you stared down at it carefully. The wires connected only to the timer then. A smile lit up your face as you stood back up, still hugging your arm to your stomach, feeling the pins and needles in your fingers as the sensation came back. “Let’s go Cerb, fuss,” he was at your side in a second as you swept your way out of the rooms.

Crossing over the last doorway you heard a loud, “Time!” You laid the gun on the table and reached for your shoulder with a quiet grunt. The pain was finally working its way into the foreground of your thoughts, no longer content with being in the background. Slowly you made your way up the stairs, joining the rest of the group as you hid the grimace once more. “Two minutes and fifteen seconds but that was great situational awareness, Speck.” The woman paused as she seemed to think, considering the two runs carefully before she finally said, “Soap was faster though. I’m gonna have to give this round to him.”

You sighed and shook your head as the Scotsman pumped his fist, “Aye, ye hear that lads. Soap has done it again.” There were groans and mutters to tell him to shut up, but you stayed quiet. It drew the azure hues to you with a furrowed brow before the man seemed to realize you were still holding your shoulder, “We should take a break though. Pick it up tomorrow?” Thank God he’d suggested it because there was no way you were going to do so.

“Hell yeah,” you mumbled and leaned back against the railing for a moment. Soap stepped towards you, his brows raising and you shook your head, “Nah man I’m good. Just need a break. Besides it’s getting late, we’ve been at it all afternoon.” You let your hand fall away from the pulsing limb, heading back down the stairs. A shower and some food sounded heavenly right now.

The rest of the group were quick to follow out of the indoor training area. Everyone seemed to be done with the competition for the day, including Soap who called after you, “Come see me later for some fresh bandages. Ye need to keep changing them!” You gave him a thumbs up as you turned to find Laswell. You still had the whole clothes issue, to sort out before you were walking naked around this base.

The woman raised her brow at you questioningly before you spoke, “Hey Laswell right?” She gave you a quick nod before you continued, “Soap and Price said you could handle my clothes situation? And I figured I should ask you about getting Cerberus some more dog food? He’s nearly out and I doubt yall are gonna let me leave base to go get it myself.” She smiled at that but you didn’t know if that was her agreeing with the statement or not.

Finally she answered, “The clothes should be in your bunkhouse already. Fatigues and civilian clothes. I’ll get someone to handle the food this time, but Wade handles all the supplies for Bravo team so you’ll need to talk to him next time you need something.” You gave a quick nod as she departed with another smile, heading in the direction of the mess hall.

The rest of the squad seemed to have cleared out as well, all except for John who still had his hands shoved in his pockets and a smile on his face. And his eyes, God he had bluest damn eyes, they were glued to you. “You gotta stop doin that, John,” his head tilted questioningly as he stepped towards you. “The watching, the smiling, someone is gonna notice. Your team aren’t exactly idiots. They can be stupid, but they aren’t idiots.” He shrugged as he took another step closer, his eyes traveling down the length of your body.

The guys you’d been shooting at inside the training op filed out of the building behind you, and for the most part he ignored them. You did as well, they weren’t your problem right now. Until the door shut again and he glanced back to watch the group disappear around the building. As the last one rounded the corner his eyes snapped back to you and his fingers shot to your shirt, pulling you forward to press a hungry kiss to your mouth. It was shocking but certainly not unwanted, not even in a place so open as this.

He tasted better than any meal you’d ever had, the hand in your shirt not nearly enough contact to satisfy the growing need in your stomach. Just as fast as his mouth had covered yours, the hungry, devouring heat pulled away again. You watched his tongue reach out to wet his lips, that smirk finding his mouth again as he tasted you on his mouth. “What was that for?” You looked nearly taken aback by the suddenness of the kiss, finding yourself already aching for more.

His voice was dangerously quiet and you recognized the desire in his voice the second he spoke, “You’ve been walking around with my name on your arse all day, Love. I’ve barely been keeping myself at bay,” he started by you, a hand sliding down beside him to grab at the ass he had mentioned. His fingers were squeezing at your flesh with a promise for more. Damn. You hummed at that as you turned to follow him with your eyes and he kept walking. He glanced over his shoulder for only a moment before jerking his head in a quiet signal for you to follow him.

A smile spread over your mouth as you followed against the wiser wishes of your brain which knew you needed a break. The wrong head was thinking now and to be honest, if it kept having great ideas like this you might just let it. You dropped Cerberus off at your bunkhouse, filling his food and water bowl before you left. Before you even knocked on the door to John’s bunkhouse the door swung open and his fingers latched into your shirt again and pulled you inside before he slammed the door shut.

His mouth found yours again and his tongue teased at your lips, seeking to rediscover the passages he’d mapped out eight months ago. Your back found the door as he caged you in with his body, his form seeming to block out the only light source in the bunkhouse. You heard the lock turn behind you before his hand ran across your lower back, seeking something and you were pretty sure you knew what it was.

Oh yeah you definitely knew what it was. Slowly his fingers slipped lower and he dipped below the waistband of the pants to get a handful of your ass, kneading at the soft flesh. He hummed into your mouth, and you felt his mouth turn up with a satisfied smile. He’d finally found what he was searching for, “Love this arse.” His other hand reached around to join the other as he pulled your hips into his. Grinding his hard erection into your own hardening length through the thick fabric of both of your pants.

A moan fell out of your mouth at the friction, pressure building quickly below your belt and you were wanting more, needing more. His tongue dipped into your mouth, a low growl rumbling in his chest as he finally tasted your mouth. The man was near feral after keeping his hands to himself for so long, and God so were you. Yesterday in the showers hadn’t been nearly enough for either of you.

His lips pulled away from yours and he rolled your hips forward against his own again. Both of you savored the feel, wanting more but not willing to break apart just yet to get to one another. His nose pressed into your cheek a couple times until you finally looked up, eyes locking on his. “I want to see this arse bouncing on my cock, Love. Now.” Your head tipped back into the door as his mouth found your neck, sucking and kissing at the exposed skin greedily.

God he was intoxicating. You would have never let anyone else talk to you like he does, but everything he said, and it didn’t matter the situation or even what he was saying, it always went straight to your cock. And good Lord you wanted him inside you just as bad as he wanted to be there.

A hand reached up, leaving your skin to hook a finger into the neckline of your shirt. It drug down your heated flesh, exposing it to him slowly. And then his lips were sucking hard at the skin of your collarbone, teeth capturing it with a nip hard enough you knew he was going to leave a mark but you didn’t care as he drew out another low moan from you.

It didn’t occur to you that you were doing it until your hand was pushing him back. Gaining a moment of reprieve to get control of your thoughts and your body. That dark look was still in his eyes but he stayed put, watching you with a smug smile until you were turning the tables on him. There was no sense in trying to act like you didn’t want this just as bad, he was all you thought about most of the time. Your mouth was on his again in a moment, devouring every inch of him you could get ahold of. Tugging at his shirt to pull it out of the clean tuck he always walked around with. Always so meticulously dressed and groomed, and damn if you didn’t want to be his undoing.

His smile against your mouth drove you insane as he mirrored every movement you made. Pulling at your shirt with his rough fingers, dragging it up over the planes of your stomach until you were forced to break away. Neither of your shirts lasted another heartbeat as you flung yours to the floor with his following right behind it. Then without missing a step you were attached at the lips again, backing him up slowly to his bed in the corner of the room. Waiting until his knees buckled and he sat back on the bed, letting him watch the sway of your hips as you took a seat on his lap, straddling him as he tried his best to muffle a groan.

Strong hands grabbed at your waist, grinding the swell of your ass down onto his rock hard length barely contained in his pants. The noises he was making were driving you up the walls. He pulled away from your mouth again, taking a moment to catch his breath as his hips rocked up into yours, “I’ve been wanting you all day." His lips pressed into the skin just below your jaw, his beard scratching an itch you didn't even know you had. "I couldn’t even run that course cause you made me so hard when I saw you wearing my name on you like a tattoo. Bloody hell, Love, your arse looks so good in these,” his fingers ran over the bare skin of your waist, hovering just above the waistband of the pants.

Slowly his mouth kissed a trail down your neck and over your collarbone until he found what he was looking for. Teeth nipped at the sensitive bud before he sucked your nipple into his mouth. A gasp left you at the sensation, your chest pressing up to seek more of his mouth even as your hips ground down onto him. Listening with a satisfied smile as he moaned out against your flesh. Your hands were in his hair before you could even think about it, your own head tipping back to enjoy the attention he was paying you. God you just wanted him to fuck you already. You needed to cum and this had already gone on long enough. "God John your mouth is fuckin perfect," you felt his smile against your skin and his hum vibrated your chest before he pulled away, kissing his way to the other side.

His mouth went to work again, the sensations lighting your mind up with pleasure and building the pressure below your belt even more. It was too much, the ache was starting now and God you needed him. Needed something touching your length or at least that deep place inside you. Your hands fell from his head and you looked down, finding his blue eyes already watching you curiously. "Feels so good, but I need you. Want you to fuck me already," his eyes closed at the request. Mouth pulling away as he rolled your ass down against his erection again, feeling him twitch at the words even through the fabric.

Your fingers found his pants, working at the buttons quickly as he did the same for you. It wasn't until a loud knock came at the door that you saw his eyes dart up and his look darken with something akin to malice rather than the lust that had been there moments before. Watcher's voice pierced through the door at the worst moment it could have, "Captain! Laswell sent me are ye there?" His lip curled at the words even as the doorknob rattled, the Scotsman was trying to open it only to find that the deadbolt in fact was locked. "Captain? Are ye asleep in there or something? Dinnae make me walk to go get yer bunk key. Please Captain, just answer the door," the young man sounded near desperate.

Nearly as desperate as you sounded with your face burying in the crook of John’s neck to muffle your quiet groans as your hips rolled across his lap. Searching for something to ease the ache as his disruption did nothing to put a cork in your overflowing desire. Another knock as John sighed into your bare shoulder, pressing a light kiss to the skin as he rolled to lay you down on the bed. "I'm coming, hold on," he called back, pressing a kiss to your mouth and lowering his voice to mumble against your mouth, "Won't be long, Love. I'm sorry," he stood back up and you watched as he bent to grab his shirt and pull it back on. His fingers worked quickly to rebutton his pants even after you'd diligently worked to undo them.

God you were wearing too much, your skin felt feverish now even after he'd already moved away from you. Sitting up you worked quickly at the laces of your boots, glancing up only for a moment when John opened his door and the orange light of the setting sun outside filtered in. One hand on the door and his other on the doorframe you were suddenly very thankful that it opened in on the other side so you didn't have to worry about Watcher getting an eyeful of you currently stripping in his Captain's bunk. With your boots finally off you laid back on the bed again. Finishing undoing the rest of the buttons and fishing into your underwear with a quiet sigh of relief as your hand finally found the aching length as you worked slowly.

Your eyes flicked back to John, catching sight of his furrowed brow and tense jaw as he shook his head, "Now? Seriously?" A sound like a yes came from the man outside whose voice was considerably lowered now that he wasn't having to yell to get John's attention. "Fuckin hell Watcher, fine whatever. Tell her I'll be there in a minute," the door slammed shut and the deadbolt clicked again. Your eyes shut tight as you twisted your wrist, another sigh falling out of you at the feeling, and you rocked up into your own hand chasing your high. "Fuck you're a perfect sight, Love," your head tilted on the pillow, eyes opening lazily to find him as your abdomen flexed on a particularly pleasurable stroke.

The burning desire in his eyes was back now even as it was clouded with annoyance that you desperately wished wasn't there. "Need you, John, please," his hand reached down, cupping himself through the thick fabric in an attempt to soothe his own aching member. He took a step towards you, and a pulse of heat ran down to throb at the base of your cock. His hand was what you wanted, not your own. You could have your own any time, but right now? Right now you could have his and it was all your mind could think, chanting for him to touch you.

A sound edging on pain clawed up his throat as he tried desperately to adjust himself again. "I've gotta go for a few minutes," your hand stalled for a second before starting back up again. "Stay here, I'll be back." You nodded quickly as your hips left the bed, still thrusting into your own hand, "Fuckin hell I swear I'll be back. Just stay here, yeah?" He knelt beside the bed for a second, leaning over to press another kiss to your mouth even as you moaned. "Here," he fished into a bag and pulled out a bottle as he handed it to you. "You better not finish without me, you understand?" You forced yourself to nod to him again, eyes shutting for a second as you fought back your climax with a groan. When your eyes opened again he was giving you that smug little smirk before he backed up to the door. He left quietly after that, though you heard the lock click into place as he did. At least no one was gonna walk in on you…hopefully.

How were you supposed to keep yourself from finishing though? Did he just want you to edge yourself into overstimulation? Knowing him he probably did. "Please don't be gone for too long," you muttered, glancing down at the bottle he'd given you. Lube, that man was a frickin boy scout if there ever was one. He always came prepared no matter the situation. Popping the top you poured some over your length, smearing it up and down your shaft as you bucked into your now slickened hand again. The image of blue eyes danced in your head, as well as the body you knew he sported beneath his clothes.

Teeth drug across your bottom lip at the thought, a hum rumbling up your throat. That man was too sexy for his own damn good, and he had you wrapped around his finger. God you were playing right into his damn games. Laying here in his fuckin bed jerking yourself off right to the edge before you were pulling your hand away with shaky breaths. Not even able to control your head as it jerked and your eyes shut tight as you staved off your orgasm. "Mm fuck, please," you begged but he wasn't there to hear your pleas, wasn't there to see the need on your face as your climax danced out of reach again and you hungrily began the chase it once more.

------(John POV)------

Christ he was aching. He couldn't get his thoughts off the man he'd left in his bunk. The way every muscle he could see had tensed with need, your sweet little mouth begging to be fucked. Another pang of arousal shot down below the belt and he had to stop the groan in his throat. Nails digging into his palm as he was nearly running across the base at this point.

Watcher had said she was waiting for him in the office which thankfully meant no OP, so he shouldn't be away for too long. He threw the door open, eyes staring hard at her for a moment before she looked up and he shut the door behind him. If looks could kill his friend would have been dead before he'd even opened the door, "What's so urgent Kate?" His arms crossed over his chest, protecting himself from the hard gaze she was currently leveling right back at him.

Holding up a file she laid it on the other side of the desk. "The rest of his personnel file came in from the contractor he was working for. Do you want to read it all yourself or do you want the short version?" So that's what was so urgent? He had told her he wanted to know the second it came in. To be fair though that was before he'd pinned Speck to the wall in the showers and fucked his frustrations out yesterday.

John waved off the file she was trying to hand him with a shake of his head, "I'll read all of it tomorrow, I have something to do. Just give me the short version right now." She nodded and sat the file down in front of her. Leaning back in her chair as she thought quietly to herself.

It took her a moment before she finally figured out where to start and then she shrugged, "He was a SEAL. A good one according to his AARs. In the Navy for twenty years right out of high school. He was Bravo One for a long time and he ran a good team, one of the best. Remember about a couple years ago though, that team that got taken out in Afghanistan?" She waited for him as he thought, finally nodding when it sparked a hint of familiarity in him, "That was his team. He was the only one that got out. Lost his whole team, all eight of them, including his dog at the time. The Navy tried to railroad him. Tried to pin everything on him, all the fault. He was investigated, but the case was dismissed after it went to trial. They never had anything on him, they just wanted to make a show of it I think." Laswell paused to look up at him, watching his now guarded expression. "He retired from the Navy after that, got divorced, and he's been working for the same contracting company since. Nothing notable since that happened though, not until now anyway."

The man nodded slowly as he took the information in, tapping his finger against his bicep as he thought. "And what did they say about it? About why they tried to have him killed?" His head tilted at the question while he watched her.

She merely shook her head and offered him another shrug, "They said it wasn't them. That his handler has been off the books for nearly four months. And with Speck in deep cover the only one who knew how to contact him was his handler for safety purposes. They have no idea where the handler is or why they've been doing all of this. My guess is they probably bought them off." The Captain let out a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose, still trying to sort through everything she'd already said. "I think he'd be a good investment though, John. I've read his AARs, he's good, and you've seen him in the field and in training. He knows what he's doing."

He shook his head, "Don't make any moves yet. Let me think about it. Now if that's all you needed I've got something to do," she gave him a slow shake of her head in response. He very nearly growled in frustration but managed to ask with a mostly neutral tone, "What else?" His brows raised when she slid the picture of the man they'd taken into custody across the desk to him.

Laswell watched as he picked it up, nodding slowly down at it before finding her eyes again, "I know who he is, but he is refusing to talk. Won't speak a word of English to me. We brought in a translator but that apparently isn't good enough for him, he wants the guy with the dog. He wants to talk to Speck." John's eyes found the far wall as his jaw tensed. What could the man possibly want with you? "Do you know where he went after Soap's little competition?" The brunette nodded his head slowly in affirmation and she said, "Great, I'll send someone to get him."

Blue eyes widened and he shook his head, "No, Kate. I'll go get him. I need to talk to him anyway," her eyes narrowed, inspecting him closely now with his untucked shirt and his pants riding just a bit too low on his hips. She was about to say something, make some kind of guess as to why his shirt was so wrinkled and covered in dirt even though he hadn't crawled through the obstacle course today. Fuck he'd picked up Speck’s shirt again, he had to stop doing that. "I'll be back, Kate," he huffed and was out the door in a moment. He needed to hurry and get back to you or he was gonna lose his mind.

------(Speck POV)-------

Moans fell out of your mouth as you fought back your climax for what had to be the hundredth time now. "Fuck John, hurry up," you groaned fingers digging into the sheets as your heart raced. Forcing your hand away from your throbbing cock, he'd been clear about you not finishing while he wasn't there and you had every intention of listening to him. What you wouldn't give to hear him right now with an answering groan though. To have his fingers caressing your skin, the rough pads of his fingertips catching along every scar. Just the thought was enough to have you fighting back your orgasm again as your lips fell open in a silent scream. "Please, fuck, need to cum. God John please," you were begging to no one though. He wasn't there to hear you, to release you from the promise you'd given him.

Not until the lock clicked and the door swung open. His eyes found you, barely keeping it together on the bed as relief flooded you at the sight. The throb in your cock was aching to be soothed. You needed to let go. He needed to get the fuck over here and he needed to do it now. The door shut behind him and he locked it again. You watched his hand grab at himself through the fabric again, working to soothe his own aches, watching your now naked body with a hungry look as you stroked yourself with a slow rhythm. "Please, I need you John," the quiet whine left your mouth and you could see him melting as you begged for him.

He was at the bed in a second, leaning over you still fully clothed as his mouth found yours. His hand ran down the tense muscles of your abdomen as he reached down to stroke you just once and you couldn't stop it this time. Sucking in a gasp of air your whole body tensed with the effort, back arching off the bed and heels pressing into the mattress as you bucked up into his hand mindlessly. The world around you ceased to exist even as your arms wrapped around his neck and you pulled him closer. You were fucking yourself into his hand with reckless abandon, the overwhelming pressure finally being released after you'd fought it back for what had felt like forever.

When you came back to yourself you realized you had buried your face into the crook of his neck at some point. Your moans were muffled only by the skin of his throat and his own quiet coos of encouragement while he worked you. Tears stung at the corners of your eyes and you hadn't even realized you were crying, relief flooding through you in a crashing wave after finally feeling your release. He was still stroking your cock slowly until you whimpered quietly into his skin and he pulled his hand away, letting you relax back into the mattress. The calluses ran up the length of your side and caught across your sensitive, burning skin to stoke the fire in your limbs without even meaning to.

Your own voice sounded foreign to your ears as you muttered a quiet, "Shit I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I tried not to, I really did," his fingers squeezed at your ribs as he pulled your body up against his despite the mess you'd made all over your stomach. A soft shh came from his mouth as his head shook, fingers running soothingly over your back. You felt him shift you so you were sitting on his lap once again. It was as if he'd never been gone to begin with. He ran his hands up and down your back slowly, his nails dragging over your skin and making you shift on his lap turning his quiet shushing into a low hum of satisfaction.

Pulling you out of where you'd buried your face he looked up at your flushed features with a smug smile. God that fucking smile, it did things to you that were truly unholy. "Feel better now, Love?" You shut your eyes and let your forehead fall forward against his, shaking your head slowly in answer. Sure you'd reached your peak, but it hadn't been how you wanted to reach it, with him buried inside you driving every thought from your mind and leaving only room to think about how good he felt. "No?" Your head shook again in another quiet answer as his nose bumped against yours, his words whispering across your cheek. "Good," he muttered as his mouth finally found yours again, his mustache tickling your upper lip and drawing out a smile against his mouth.

You couldn't stop yourself from grinding down against his still hardened length, his moan like music to your ears. He was just barely muffled by your own hungry and searching mouth. "You're sorry right?" He whispered against your mouth and you gave an affirmative hum as your mouth kissed a trail across his jaw and down to his neck. You could taste the sweat on his skin, had he run back here? Damn he was just as horny for you as you were for him. "Make it up to me then, Love," good Lord he was a vicious man. But how could you deny him when he asked in that needy voice.

Your hands pulled at his shirt quickly, bunching it up in your hands as you lifted it over his stomach and chest. Your mouth left his neck for barely a second as you helped him strip free of the confining fabric and muttered, "Your skin tastes like sweat. Did you run back here?" He nodded as your mouth worked over his collarbone, tongue flicking out to taste the salt on his skin again. "Did anyone see you, John?" Your fingers worked slowly at the buttons of his pants even as he grinded your hips down on his lap again.

A low hum vibrated his chest before he growled out, "I don't fucking care if anyone saw me. Couldn't wait to be inside you, Love," his chin tilted down to rest on the back of your head as your mouth pressed into the dip between his pecs. Kissing at the patches of dark brunette hair along his chest. God his dick wasn't the only thing that was huge, huh? Each pectoral felt like a pillow underneath your lips as you nipped and sucked at the soft flesh, but when his fingers dug into the flesh of your ass you felt the muscles harden beneath your unwavering attention.

Finally you finished your slow progress at opening his pants, your fingers dipping inside to palm him through his underwear. His forehead fell further down to rest against your shoulder, eyes traveling down your naked front to watch your hand as you groped him through the fabric. Lighting every one of his nerve endings on fire with your relentless teasing. He huffed out in a quiet threat, "If you don't hurry up I'm gonna do this myself, Love." His beard scratched against your cheek as you pressed your face against his. You earned a gasp as you delved into his underwear finally. Lips pressed against your shoulder, his breath playing across your bare skin as he fought to control the noises escaping him.

"Oh fu-" his next gasp cut off mid sentence, teeth sinking into the muscle of your shoulder as he fought to muffle his moans. A pained growl left you but you didn't stop pumping his member, reveling in his quiet huffs for air. Your shoulder was on fire even when let go, whispering a quiet, "S-Sorry. Need you. Right now I n-need you."

Nodding you squeezed the base of his cock, driving back the orgasm you knew was building, edging him just like you'd edged yourself until he’d come back. He sighed against your skin before you muttered, "Lay back." His head lifted, hands coming up to cup your face as he watched you curiously for a moment. You leaned forward, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before tilting your mouth to whisper against his ear, "Please lay back.” A quick nod followed your request and he laid back on the bed, that burning gaze staring up at you as he propped his head up with one arm. His other hand rested on your thigh, his thumb stroking your thigh in slow, little circles.

Interest sparked in his eyes as you slid back along his thighs, pulling at the waistband of his pants until you couldn't pull them down anymore. Starting to slide off his lap completely he stopped you with a strong grip on your hip, shaking his head slowly. Without even needing to ask his hips lifted off the bed, and you couldn't help but admire the way his muscles tensed below his skin. You were lost to the sight until he cleared his throat beneath you and you hurriedly pulled the pants and underwear down to free his cock.

Reaching across the bed towards the pillow you grabbed the bottle of lube he'd given you earlier. Squeezing some out on his length as he hissed at the cold. And then your hand was around him again, warming the slick liquid and spreading it over his length. His lips parted, his breath quickening as your hand worked him. The man couldn't stop his needy moan. Neither could you when your own length came into contact with his, and you could feel the throb of his pulse against your own skin. Your hand wrapped around the both of you, pumping a few times before you asked, "Still want to watch my ass bouncing on your cock?"

The noise he made was near enough to send you over the edge again as his fingers tightened around your hip, "Fuck yes. Want you to ride me till you're screaming my name," your wrist twisted at the tip, thumb sliding over the head of his cock. His head tipped back and his eyes shut tight as he fought to keep himself still underneath you. Groaning out his impatience when your hand released him again.

You turned around in his lap, sliding backward along his length as his leaking erection glided between your cheeks. His hand slid up along your back before you glanced over your shoulder at his face. Those blue eyes were captivating, especially when he glanced up at you with his teeth dragging over his bottom lip humming quietly in satisfaction to himself. Lifting up you saw his other hand reach down, his cock slapping against your ass until he pressed himself at your entrance. He obviously felt how slick your hole was because in the next second he asked, "Bloody hell, did you prep yourself while I was gone too?" A slow nod had him slamming inside you, too pent up to hold himself back any longer. "Oh my- Feel so fucking good, Love."

Your muscles tightened and spasmed around him, a strangled gasp in your throat at the sudden fullness. God you hadn't expected that. He burned your walls as he tried to move but your hands on his hips stopped him. Short, quick breaths were all you could manage for a second as his hands rocked your hips forward and back slowly, needing to feel some kind of friction. Why did he always feel so big? He'd just been inside you yesterday too, he shouldn't feel like there was this much of him. Should he?

Moving your hands from his hips to his thighs your chin fell forward, finally catching your breath and loosening around him. You lifted off him slowly about halfway before the hands at your waist were pulling you back down with a vicious slam. He pressed against every wall, every corner of you driving you near madness at the sensation. “‘M feel so big Price,” you moaned loudly, lifting off again and bouncing back down.

You set a steady rhythm, letting his hands wander over the expanse of your skin. The pad of his index finger ran across the bullet scar at your hip as you rode him. The memory of when you’d told him the story of that one flashing in your mind. He’d asked so many questions that night, and not all that you’d been willing to answer. “Call me that again,” he breathed out and you smiled as you slammed back down, rolling your hips back and forth. Grinding on him and running his length over the bundle of nerves that had you gasping out in pleasure again.

You glanced over your shoulder again at him, head tilting in question with a smirk on your mouth, “What? Big?” He groaned and you watched his eyes flick up from where he’d been watching himself disappearing inside of you. His gaze turned into a glare letting you know that was not what he had meant. “Price then? The name I walked around with on my ass all day? That name?” His eyes shut and his head fell back, hips thrusting up off the mattress reaching somehow impossibly deeper inside of you.

Resuming your steady rhythm your teeth grazed over your bottom lip. He liked being talked to, and that worked both when he was in control and even when he wasn’t it seemed. “Give me another pair and I’ll wear your name all week,” his fingers squeezed hard at your flesh, spreading your cheeks with his hands. You caught sight of him nodding along to your words where he was laying. “I don’t think I could wear it on missions though. You seem a bit distracted by it. Can’t have your thoughts back here in the bunkhouse when you’re supposed to be keeping me alive.”

It didn’t take long for the image to dance behind his eyelids of you running a real mission with them, his name still stitched into the pocket on your pants. He sat up as he jerked your hips flush with his. His mouth right beside your ear when he growled, “I don’t need you to wear my name. I’ll make sure everyone knows this arse is mine one way or another.” His beard scratched against your shoulder as he flipped you over, bending you over the edge of the bed and pressing your face down into the mattress. One hand still holding your hips as the other tangled into your hair.

Oh, he was gonna be the death of you. There was no doubt that his face would be the last you saw because you were certain you could never let him out of your sight again. He impaled you relentlessly, bruising your insides with the force. The pressure that had been building at the base of your cock was becoming unbearable. You needed to find your release and you needed to find it now.

The same thought seemed to be crossing his mind as well, as the hand holding your hip slid around to your front. He stroked your length in time with his thrusts, angling his hips down to hit the place that had your abdomen tightening at the shock of pleasure. “You close?” You nodded vigorously into the mattress, turning your head to look up at him as best you could with his hand still tangled into your hair. “Gonna cum for me Love? Let me finish inside you again?” Another quick nod but the look he gave you made it clear he wasn’t satisfied by a mere nod this time around.

“Please fill me up, Price,” the words slipped out of your mouth before you could even really think about them. “I wanna be leaking with you when I leave here,” he smiled and it didn’t take but a few more thrusts before you felt him spilling inside you with a moan. His body fell over your back as he kept rocking into you, drawing out the shocks of his own orgasm as he pushed you ever closer to your own. His hand was still tight around your own erection as he stroked your length. A twist of his wrist at the head of your cock though and you were spilling across his fist and sheets.

The second orgasm was just as strong as the first, your toes curling and back arching underneath the heavy weight on top of you. Both of your chests were heaving with effort as he slowly pulled out. You could feel his seed dripping out of you, already leaking down the back of your thighs with how much he’d spilled. He pushed himself up with one hand, the other landing a firm smack on your cheek causing you to flinch before you smiled. “Love, this arse is perfect,” you glanced up catching him in the act of watching the muscle jiggle after he’d slapped it with a smug smile on his face.

Climbing up onto the bed you laid yourself out, relaxing across the sheets as you watched him pulling his pants back up and fastening them with deft fingers. You watched him lean down to grab the two shirts on the ground, looking between the two before he finally pulled one over his head. Then he was grabbing your clothes off the floor, folding them quickly to lay them on the bedside table. Looking down at you, still naked on his bed, his head tilted and while his mouth no longer had that smile you could see it in the corners of his eyes as they crinkled, “Feel better now?”

A yawn escaped you before you managed to nod, “I feel great now. Can’t say I’ll feel the same in the morning but for right now yeah I feel good.” He smirked and sat beside you, his hand running along the expanse of your shoulders. His fingers massaged into the muscles, running over the place he’d bitten you earlier. Soothing the sting as he leaned over to press his lips to the spot with a smile. Then both his hands were working at the aches from the past few days, his strong hands digging in with barely any effort on his part.

You let out a groan at the tension being released and a small smile turned up the corners of your mouth. “Good to hear, Speck,” he seemed to hesitate then. You caught the look in his eye but you failed to find the reasoning behind it. Not until he cleared his throat and finally said, “I need you to get dressed though. Laswell needs your help. Well I need your help.” Your eyes closed, a sigh nearly escaping you. Should have known better than to get comfortable, right?

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