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bookworm551 · 1 year

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Take the Edge Off | Part 7 | The Bet (2/2)

After losing your bet against Miguel, it’s time for you to pay up.

A/N: alrighty y’all, this is almost entirely smut. Full disclosure, I don’t do BDSM, so I wrote what I was comfortable with. Also, this is like the longest chapter I’ve ever written for anything, so you can see why I broke it up into parts and why it took me so long to finish. Still, I had fun with it :) also, miguel is soooo Lana coded <3

Warnings: smut, temperature play, spanking, handcuffing, sight deprivation, oral f-receiving, orgasm denial/edging, knife play if you squint, and the nastiest of them all—fluff

Word count: 7.5k

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

When you emerged from the portal, you were surprised to find yourself standing in a large room. It was similar to your own little apartment you had here on Earth-928, but this was much larger with full-size windows overlooking Nueva York. Despite its size, the apartment was scarcely furnished. There was a large bed on one wall, neatly made, and minimal furniture in the space. It seemed barely lived in, which you were sure was the case given how much Miguel worked.

"What a view," you commented as you stepped towards the large windows that displayed the city below. It was an impressive sight, the bustling vehicles in the air and on the ground zooming around almost like bees in a hive. It was like the people of Earth-57218 but with less beauty and more technology. You could feel Miguel's presence right behind you, and he took a second to watch the busy lives of the people below with you.

You were reminded of your thoughts from earlier that evening about living a normal life. Would he ever have thoughts like that, too? Would he ever think of you the way you thought of him?

Finally, he lifted a hand to the glass and gently tapped it twice with his finger. The glass immediately darkened, cutting off much of the natural light that had been flooding in before. "Don't get distracted," he whispered in your ear before pressing a kiss to your neck. "You lost the bet, and now it's time to pay up."

You felt a flutter in your stomach at his words, and you couldn't tell if you were nervous or excited at the prospect of him doing "whatever he wanted" to you.

"Well, I don't get paid until next Friday, so I can get you your money then," you joked, halfway turning to face him. When you looked up at his face, your heart sped up by the hungry look in his eyes. "Money is useless to me," he muttered. "You have what I want right now."

You wanted to reply that money wasn't useless to you, but when he snaked his arm around your torso and pressed his lips to your neck, he stole all the snark out of you. His body leaned forward against your own, and he bent over and lifted you up bridal style.

You chuckled lightly. "This is romantic," you commented as he walked you over to his bed. He set you down gently, and the bed sagged down as he hovered over you. "I would hardly describe what I'm about to do as romantic," he murmured, his eyes alight with lust.

You felt that same flutter of anticipation in your stomach again. "And what are you going to do?" You asked breathlessly. His eyes studied your face with a subtle smirk growing on his lips. "That's for you to find out," he told you smugly. "Why would I spoil the fun?"

You huffed in annoyance at his secrecy. In truth, you were nervous for what he may do to you. Was he going to hurt you? Was he going to leave you covered in marks? What sort of dark fantasies did Miguel O'Hara have hidden away?

He must have been able to read your apprehension on your face because his eyes softened slightly. "I want you to listen very closely," he said. "I'm going to do what I want, but you get to tell me where the line is, okay? That's all you have to say."

You blinked up at him. "Line?" You repeated softly. He nodded and confirmed, "Line." Your heart was racing now in anticipation. Safe words were new for you two, and you wondered how far he wanted to go. Still, it gave you a measure of comfort that he would ultimately defer to what you were willing to do.

He waited for you to respond, so you nodded your understanding at him. A faint grin pulled at his lips before he pressed them onto your own with a kiss. His tongue pushed into your mouth, and you gave a soft moan as he kissed you passionately.

His hands wandered down your arms to your wrists, and he gently removed your web shooters, causing your suit to disappear from your body. You were left laying in his bed in only your bra and underwear. There was a satisfied gleam in his eyes as he stared down at your mostly-naked figure under him.

"Do you remember our first time together?" He asked softly as he ran his hands up your stomach slowly and reached under your back. You arched your body to allow him to unhook your bra while replying with a smirk, "How could I not?" The image of him tied up and begging was forever seared in your mind, and you often thought of it late at night with your hand between your legs.

"Do you remember what I told you then?" He continued as he tossed aside your garment and began palming your breasts with his large hands. Your eyes were closed now in response to his sensual touch, and it made it difficult for you to focus on his question. "No," you admitted softly, shifting your hips to search for some relief from him.

Miguel hummed in mock disappointment, and his hands wandered up from your breasts to lift your arms up over your head. With one hand, he pinned your wrists to the pillow, and you suddenly remembered what he was talking about. I'll get you for this. You also remembered what he had said another time. Payback would be tying you up nice and pretty for me.

Your heart sped up as you realized it was finally time for you to face the music. Miguel saw the realization dawn on your face. "I think you remember," he murmured smugly. You took a shaky breath before nodding slowly. There was a sly grin that grew on Miguel's face.

With one hand still pinning your wrists to the bed, he kissed you. When he broke away from your lips, he whispered, "You know what I'm gonna do, don't you?" Eyes blinking open, you nodded your head without a word. Miguel's eyes danced with lustful intentions, and he continued, "And you're going to let me do it, aren't you?"

One of your eyebrows raised skeptically at him. "I don't really have a choice, do I?" You countered. An amused smirk grew on his lips as he stared down at you. "No," he answered. "No, you don't."

With that, he shot a web at his headboard and slowly, meticulously, he bound your wrists together, leaving you with about a foot of webbing between them and the headboard. You gave an experimental tug on the webbing that restricted your hands and found that he had securely tied your hands, leaving no room for them to pull or move. Your heart was pounding with the thrill of being completely at his mercy. You didn't think Miguel would actually hurt you, but the endless possibilities of things he could do to you made your breathing quicken.

When he was satisfied with his rigging, he leaned back to admire the sight of your body with your hands stretched above your head. "You look even prettier than I imagined like this," he muttered with a self-satisfied smirk. His words made your face glow with a faint blush, and you thought of something to say that would distract you from the warmth you felt at his praise.

"Aww, you think of me when I'm not around?" You asked in an overly-sweet tone, looking up at him through your lashes. Miguel's eyes darkened with desire, and he let out an amused huff. "I think of all the things I could do to shut you up," he said, sitting up and stepping off the bed. Your eyes followed him as he crossed the room.

"Or all the things I could do to make you scream," he continued casually, approaching a door you assumed was his closet. "Or make you beg." He opened the door, and though you strained to see, the door blocked your view from what was inside.

When he finally closed the door, you noticed the silk tie in his hands. You wondered for a split second what it was for, but as he walked back toward you, it suddenly became clear. Crawling back onto the bed, Miguel gave you one final, smug look before gently placing the tie over your eyes and tying it securely behind your head.

"So many things to do," he mused quietly in your ear. "But I think we'll start here." He placed a brief kiss on your lips before slowly trailing down your body. You shivered at his touch, and being deprived of your sight made every kiss feel electric. Reaching for your breasts, he took one in his mouth, running his tongue over your nipple while his hands squeezed your tender skin greedily.

"Fuck," you whispered softly. Your back was arching off the mattress to press into his hands and mouth. His mouth moved lower to your stomach until he reached your underwear. He slowly removed the fabric from your waist, placing kisses down the inside of your thighs as he moved it down your legs. You groaned softly, shifting your legs to try and capture his head and failing. You wanted more of him. You needed more of him.

Just when you thought he was going to move back up to continue feeling your body, you felt his weight lift off the mattress. Your eyebrows scrunched together as you tried to determine what he was doing. Without your sight, you focused heavily on any sounds you could pick up, but Miguel was frustratingly quiet.

"I hope you're not planning on just leaving me here," you commented, desperate to break your anxious silence. Your little quip earned you a small huff, and you determined he was somewhere on the other side of the apartment. You also heard the sound of something opening, and you knew he was retrieving things, but you couldn't figure out what it was.

You wished your premonitory senses would activate to warn you about what he was doing, but your body seemed to know you weren't in any actual danger, so you were left to guess. Your heart leapt as you felt the mattress sag back down with his weight again. He wasn't touching you, but you could feel that he was kneeling next to you.

"Why would I leave you here?" He wondered thoughtfully, and you could hear the undercurrent of lust in his tone. "I have you right where I want you, and you're not leaving until I'm done with you." You shifted on the bed, eagerly anticipating when he was going to touch you again. To break the tension that settled between you, you joked, "Careful O'Hara, your mouth is writing checks your body better be able—"

You cut yourself off with a sharp gasp when you felt something painfully cold press against your nipples. You strained against your bindings to escape the freezing sensation, and after a few seconds, you felt the cold trail in small circles around your breasts before disappearing again, leaving you gasping.

Feeling the wet chill on your skin, you realized Miguel was using ice. "What were you saying?" He asked smugly as you recovered from the cold. You wanted to say something snappy, but you were at a loss for witty words. "Nothing?" He questioned and blew gently against your wet skin, causing you to shudder. Before you could answer him, the cold returned to your nipples, and you thrashed with a loud groan.

Miguel kept the ice against your skin even longer before lifting them off again. This time, he ran his tongue over one of your hardened nipples, and you groaned again at the feeling of his warm mouth against your cold skin. "What pretty noises," he murmured when he moved to your other breast. Your chest was heaving, and your skin was covered in goosebumps from both the ice and his touch.

After a few moments, Miguel lifted himself up off your body. Your hearing was strained as you tried to discern what he was going to do next, but Miguel didn't seem so interested in talking anymore. You tried shifting your legs to subtly feel for him, but he wasn't within reach of you.

Just when you were beginning to wonder where he was, a cube of ice was placed onto your chest just below your throat. Your breath trembled as it slowly melted down your skin, between your breasts, and toward your navel. You jumped when you felt Miguel's cool hands on your thighs, and he slowly wrapped his arms around them.

He had done that enough times for you to know what he was going to do next. Your pussy ached for his mouth while your stomach was tensing with the cold trail of the ice. Miguel placed a few light kisses to your thighs before his lips finally moved to where you wanted them.

You cried in alarm when you realized that Miguel had a small piece of ice on his tongue, and with his mouth vigorously eating you out and his arms wrapped tightly around your thighs, you had no escape from the freezing temperature against your clit. "Mmm, fuck!" You cried out as your body writhed in an effort to escape the cold pressing against your hot entrance.

The extreme cold was deliciously torturous as the ice melted against your pussy and his mouth. When the ice disappeared, Miguel continued eating you out fervently, and you were vaguely aware of the feeling of his webbing digging into your straining wrists. Your startled cries evolved into moans as warmth returned to his mouth and your clit, and his tongue was moving expertly in a way that was making your thighs twitch under his strong hands.

"Oh god, Miguel," you gasped, feeling a tightness form in your core that made you desperate for your release. Miguel moaned against you, the deep bass of his voice sending vibrations against your clit. You wanted nothing more that to wrap your legs around his head and run your fingers through his hair, but the webs at your wrists were still restricting you as well as his strong arms around your thighs.

You breathing turned into panting whines, and you were about to cum when Miguel lifted his mouth off of you. A desperate groan tore from your throat as you tried fighting against his hands to capture his head with your legs to no avail.

"Not yet, cariño," he murmured, sounding slightly winded. "I still have more for you." You could hear the smile that you were sure he was wearing while his body lifted up off the bed. You squeezed your legs together in an effort to give yourself some relief, but it was pointless. Nothing you did could replicate the feeling of his tongue.

Again, you focused hard on trying to figure out where Miguel was and what he was doing. "Are you trying to hide from me?" You asked in hopes of figuring out where he was. You were surprised to hear his amused chuckle right beside you. "I'm not hiding," he told you. "But I love watching you try to find me. You get so restless waiting for me."

Your skin jumped as he brushed his fingers across your stomach, and you could all but see the smug look on his face. "You have no idea what I could do to you," he continued quietly, and you gasped softly when you felt the sharp point of one of his claws trace over your tender skin. He let his claw wander up your stomach all the way to the hollow of your throat before pulling away again.

Your chest was heaving in anticipation for what he would do next. The throbbing between your legs was almost painful, and you were desperate for him to touch you again. You tried pulling your hands down again in vain and felt frustration course through your body at not being able to move.

Just when your anticipation was getting to be too much for you, Miguel came back onto the bed. You could feel his weight settled between your legs, and when you shifted them, you were pleased to feel his thighs between your own. Your lips were parted as you waited for him, your breathing quickened.

A warm, almost hot, liquid poured over your stomach, causing your back to arch and a gasping moan to emerge from your mouth. The heat contrasted so sharply with the chill of the ice that had melted on your skin that it made your body shiver involuntarily. Miguel chuckled darkly at your reaction, pouring more of the hot liquid over your nipples, causing another moan to escape your throat.

The heat felt good once the initial shock subsided, and so when it started to drip down your stomach and off your sides, you sighed in satisfaction. Miguel took a hand and ran it across your body, spreading the oily substance all across your torso. You pushed your body into his hand to encourage him. His other hand also started rubbing the oil across your skin, slowly digging his fingers into the tissue around your hips, up your sides, to your breasts, and around your shoulders.

You moaned at how good it all felt. Being Spider-woman was definitely a harsh and physically demanding job, and you were almost always in some type of pain as a result of it. Your muscles were always tight and your skin always bruised. Now, laying there while Miguel slowly massaged your body with warm oil, you felt like you had died and gone to heaven.

"What did I do to deserve this?" You wondered softly. Miguel hummed in response. "Do you like this?" He asked quietly, his voice soft and deep. You nodded, your voice useless as his fingers reached under your back and massaged the muscles there.

Every movement was slow and intentional, and in that moment, you could've convinced yourself that this was more than just fucking, more than just losing a bet. You wanted to believe that so badly, but that was dangerous thinking. Still, when he kissed your neck while massaging your back with warm oil, you let yourself savor the intimacy of it all.

His hands moved down to your hips and then to your ass, his fingers digging deep into the muscle. You sighed deeply as you lifted your thighs to encourage him. He ran his hands down the outside of your thighs and back up again on the inside. Your breath shuddered as he slowly pushed your legs up, and you wrapped them around his waist, desperate for him to be inside you. "I know, babygirl," he chuckled. "Not yet."

You groaned in frustration. The ache you had for him was almost painful. "Please," you whimpered softly, the desire to feel him stretch you out making you desperate. Miguel hummed thoughtfully, his hands roaming over the skin of your thighs. "I do like it when you say please," he conceded. "Say it again."

You sighed in exasperation. Of course he was going to drag this out. You squeezed your legs around him tighter to bring him closer, and a thrill ran through your body when you felt the head of his cock at your entrance, making you groan in anticipation.

A sharp sting on your ass startled you and made you yelp in surprise. It took a second for you to realize that he had actually spanked you. It sounded more painful that it was, but being deprived of your sight meant that your sense of touch was heightened, and you definitely hadn't expected him to do that.

"I told you not yet," he chastised you sternly. "Now, say it again." Your heart was hammering in your heaving chest. "P-please," you stuttered, trying to think straight. You wished you could see his face or feel his body. It was driving you crazy letting him tease you like this.

"Much better," Miguel murmured softly, rubbing his hand over the spot he had smacked. He teased his length against your hot entrance, causing your breath to hitch and your legs to tighten around him. Seeing your reaction, he moved away again, and you groaned, pressing your head back into your pillow in frustration.

"You're so needy," he said. "Why should I give it to you?" You shifted restlessly under him. Why was he torturing you like this? "Please," you repeated, trying your best to hide the desperation in your voice, "I need you to fuck me."

Miguel hummed in an almost disinterested manner. Clearly, he wanted to hear more. "Because you're the only one who can do it right," you answered breathlessly, raising your leg to brush against the side of his body. "You're the only one I want, Miguel, so please, fuck me." Miguel cursed under his breath. You knew hearing his name would soften his resolve, and you bit your lip in anticipation for what he would do next.

When you felt him tease the head of his cock against your entrance, you sighed softly and had to fight the urge to try pulling him in with your legs again. Instead, you waited with baited breath for him to push into you. As you waited, scarcely allowing yourself to breathe, the mattress sagged down around you as you felt Miguel lean over and hover inches above your body.

"Breathe, baby," he purred in your ear, smugness evident in his voice. The way he spoke was sinful, and you struggled to listen to his instruction. With effort, you managed to take a deep, shaky breath. Miguel placed a gentle kiss under your jaw and murmured, "There's my good girl."

With your second breath, he pushed into you. The air caught in your throat at the feeling of him stretching you out. How did he feel so good every time? Your head pushed back against the mattress as his hips came flush against yours. Your pussy caused Miguel to groan softly, too. "You always take me so well," he commented smugly.

His thrust were slow, tantalizingly slow, and you strained against your bindings as your arms instinctively longed to wrap themselves around his shoulders. "Mmm, shit," you moaned. "You feel so good." Your words made him increase his pace marginally, but it was clear that he was holding back.

You could tell that he had one hand planted next to your body to support himself while the other wandered down between your breasts to your stomach. "Do you feel me here?" He asked as his hand gently pressed down on your lower stomach, right above where his cock was moving in and out of you.

Pornographic sounds poured from your lips from the pressure he was placing. His hand was pressing down against your G-spot from outside your body, and as he moved his hand in small circles, the pleasure it brought you made your hands strain against their binding.

Miguel, too, was enjoying the pressure he added. He was grunting quietly at the feeling of your pussy squeezed around him, and it wasn't long before he picked up the pace and began moving in you at a quickened tempo. His hand came off your stomach as he started thrusting into you faster, and instead, he wrapped his strong arm under your lower back, forcing your body to arch off the bed.

A long whine rose up from your mouth as he railed into you. He was holding you at an angle that made his dick hit just right inside you. You couldn't even breathe properly from the blissful feeling his cock deep inside you. Under your blindfold, your eyes were rolling back into your head, and your legs spread even further apart to allow him to completely bury himself in you.

Your name was falling from Miguel's lips in between quiet curses. Evidently, he was enjoying himself as much as you were, and you could feel how his whole body was consumed with pleasure above you. Having to rely primarily on your hearing for clues, you were more than pleased by the grunts and moans he was making.

With your back still arched from Miguel's arm, it wasn't long before you felt the tightness in your stomach start to form again. Your thighs started to quiver, and your breathing became ragged as you prepared to be overtaken with pleasure, but just when you were reaching your tipping point, Miguel pulled completely out of you.

You let out a loud, frustrated groan at the loss of his cock inside you. Denying you of your orgasm again felt cruel, and you squeezed your thighs together to try and give yourself some relief as you had before to no avail. "Please, Miguel," you whined, begged. "Don't stop."

You felt the weight of the bed shift around you as he moved back. "Not yet, babygirl," he told you, sounding out of breath. You wondered if he had been close to finishing, too, but before you could ponder any further, Miguel's hands wrapped around your hips and flipped you over like you weighed nothing.

With a gasp, you found yourself lying on your stomach. You understood now why he had tied your wrists the way he had. With the length of webbing between your hands and the headboard, you were able to turn over and support yourself on your knees and elbows without any uncomfortable twisting. Now, you were positioned on your stomach, and Miguel's commanding hands propped you up on your knees with your ass up to him.

You felt his hand glide across your back, his palm still slick with oil. "I've been wanting to see you like this for a long time now," Miguel commented under his breath. "You look so fucking perfect on your knees." You let out a short huff at his words. "Are you just going to stare, or are you going to do something about it?" You asked impatiently, still frustrated at being denied your pleasure.

A sharp pain stung your ass as he slapped you in punishment, forcing a gasp from you. "Watch your tone," he told you in a warning voice. You took a shaky breath before nodding submissively. Your heart was beating wildly in your chest in reaction to him spanking you as well as in anticipation of what he may do next.

Juxtaposing the pain he had just inflicted, Miguel placed slow, deliberate kisses up your back starting from the base of your spine. You moaned softly as his lips trailed up your body, seeming to press a kiss over each vertebra. As his mouth moved up your back, his hands roamed up the sides of your body, gripping at your soft skin.

Your breath hitched as each kiss served as a countdown to him being back inside you. His lips wandered up between your shoulders to your neck as his hands gripped your breasts under you. At that point, you were so desperate for him that you arched your back and pushed your ass back toward his hips with a quiet groan.

"Use your words," he prompted in a low voice, and his lips tickled your ear as he whispered to you. You whimpered softly before replying, "More." You could feel how his whole body was hunched over yours, and you could only imagine how his muscular torso looked as it enveloped your frame.

"Mmm, you can do better than that," he stated, and he nipped at your earlobe while teasing his cock against you. You whined and tugged at your bindings again, wishing for the millionth time that you could move freely. "Please, Miguel," you groaned, "I need you to fuck me."

You had almost expected him to drag it out like he had done so many times before, but perhaps hearing you say his name satisfied him, or perhaps he was just as eager to continue what he had so abruptly interrupted. Either way, he didn't require any more begs and pleads before slamming his cock deep into you.

Cries of pleasure tore from your throat as Miguel began pounding into you mercilessly. Your salacious sounds intermingled with the wet smacking of his hips against your ass as he thrust in and out, over and over, into your aching cunt. Miguel growled at the sensation of repeatedly burying his length inside you, and you could hear him grunting under his breath, "Fuck, just like that."

You buried your face in the bedding under you to muffle all the sounds you were making. Arching your back, you pushed your ass up as far as you could, and the feeling of him railing you like that overtook any coherent thought you may have had. You felt Miguel's oily hands grabbing at your waist harshly as he tried keeping a grip on your body.

Suddenly, you felt his claws dig into your hips sharply. You gasped and clenched your teeth at the painful sensation. It was different from his fangs, which still had some degree of pain. This was pain in the most sensitive parts of your waist adjacent to your stomach, and it outweighed the pleasure you were feeling instead of enhancing it.

You hissed sharply in reaction. For a moment, you struggled to remember what he had told you at the beginning. Finally, you uttered, "Line," so quietly that you wouldn't have been surprised if he hadn't heard you, but he did.

Immediately, you felt the sharp sting of his claws retract from your torso, and he grew still before pulling out of you. "Are you okay?" He asked in a low voice, and you could hear the notes of concern in his voice. His hands rubbed up your back gently, and you nodded, trying to regain your breath to explain. "It just hurt a little more than I like," you admitted finally.

Gently, he turned you over onto your back again to assess you while his fingers lightly massaged your waist where he had pricked your skin. He placed his lips against your stomach and murmured, "I didn't mean to. You just feel so good." He placed another kiss to your skin before saying, "We can stop."

You quickly shook your head. "No, don't stop," you rushed. "Just...no claws." His fingers continued massaging over the scratches on your skin. "I won't," he promised. "I'm going to make you feel good."

His kisses trailed down slowly from your stomach, and your breath hitched as his lips traced over your sensitive skin. As he kissed you, he inserted 3 fingers into you, earning a soft moan. He moved slowly at first, working to rebuild your trust in him by curling his fingers inside you with a deliberate slowness. As more moans sounded in your throat, he increased the speed of his fingers and lowered his mouth down right above them.

All the echos of pain from his claws were banished by the pleasure his tongue brought you as it lapped at your swollen clit. Your whole body tensed as his hands and mouth worked together in an apology that spoke louder than any combination of words he could say. He told you he was going to make you feel good, and he was clearly telling the truth.

"Oh, fuck," you gasped as your hips moved of their own accord to increase the pressure of his mouth. You wished desperately that you could see him, see how his dark eyes were looking up at you lustfully, see how his muscles were flexing as he moved his fingers in and out of you rapidly. Instead, you had to rely on a combination of your memory and your imagination to recreate the image.

As you started to grow closer to finishing, you tried to suppress any indication that you were about to cum so that Miguel wouldn't keep denying it to you. You tried swallowing your noises, but you couldn't help the way your breathing started to come in short gasps as you felt the familiar tightness forming.

Sure enough, when Miguel heard your tell-tale panting, his fingers stopped moving, and he lifted his mouth off of you. A long, frustrated whine tore from your throat as he pulled his fingers out of you. "I know, love," he murmured, sounding out of breath. "Wait for me."

The mattress shifted as he moved himself up, and before you could make another complaint about his teasing, he pushed his cock back into you. Your whines turned to moans as he started moving inside you, and he snaked his arm under your lower back again and lifted your torso into an arch. He pounded away into you, and at that angle, his length hit your G-spot every time.

You couldn't speak as all the air had been snatched from your lungs. The best you could do was make quiet, strangled moans as pleasure overtook every other feeling in your body. Though your eyes were still blindfolded, you were seeing stars, and above you, you could hear the grunts that Miguel made with every thrust.

With the angle he was holding you at, it wasn't long before that tightness returned. Your thighs started to quiver as your breathing grew shallow again. "Don't stop," you pleaded desperately between ragged breaths. He didn't respond, but he also didn't stop. His own breaths came in quick pants, and you heard the sound of splintering wood above your head which you realized was his claws digging into the headboard.

Finally, you hit your breaking point. All of Miguel's edging paid off because your legs began shaking uncontrollably as your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave. You were practically screaming as you came hard around him, every nerve in your body ablaze with ecstasy. The intensity of what you were feeling was indescribable. You couldn't even feel how the bindings around your wrists were cutting into your skin as you writhed under him; there was only complete and utter pleasure.

Miguel groaned loudly at how you tightened around his cock, and with a few more quick, desperate thrusts, he was gasping your name as he came inside you. Your quivering legs wrapped tightly around his torso as you continued riding your high while his muscles tensed in pleasure. Together, your bodies were both shuddering, and your minds were both clouded with overwhelming bliss.

As the haze of your orgasm finally began to lift, you registered the sounds of your heavy breathing along with Miguel's. There was also the sound of more splintering wood as he withdrew his claws from the headboard above you. His head rested on your shoulder as he recovered from his high, his hot breath fanning against your skin. Your legs fell away from his waist as your body went limp. Neither of you moved for a few moments as you took them to remember how to speak again.

Finally, with a short grunt, Miguel pulled out of you, earning a quiet whine from you. You felt empty without him, and as he pushed himself off your body, you felt exposed, unprotected. You hated it.

To your tremendous relief, however, he cut away the bindings around your wrists and lifted the blindfold from your eyes. Your arms ached from all the times you tried pulling them down, and you groaned softly as you brought them down to your sides. Blinking your eyes opened, the scene around you looked blurry, but you could still make out Miguel's face hovering above you, some of his hair dangling over his dark eyes fixed intently on you.

You raised up one of your newly liberated hands to cup his cheek as you tried forcing your eyes to focus. He placed his hand over yours and pressed a soft kiss to your palm. "How do you feel?" He asked finally, breaking the long stretch of silence between you. He sounded exactly how you felt—spent.

You couldn't answer him; the ability to form words hadn't fully return to you. Instead, you pulled his face down to yours and kissed him like it was the last time you could ever do it. His hand left yours to slide under your back and pull you closer as he kissed you with as much passion as you gave. Your arms were finally able to do what they had longed to do the whole time and wrapped themselves around his neck to hold him close.

You didn't want it to end, didn't want to pull away from him. This was more than just lust, at least it was for you. If he had asked you to stay with him in that bed forever, you weren't sure you would say no. It was a dangerous temptation.

After a moment, Miguel broke away from your lips. "Are you feeling alright?" He asked softly. You nodded your head, still not ready to use your voice. "Was it too much?" He questioned, his eyes scanning your face for any signs of discomfort. You shook your head mutely, and his lips started to quirk upward at your silence.

"Can you use words?" He asked in amusement. Your lips pulled up to mirror his smirk, and you shook your head in reply. "That good?" He surmised with no small amount of pride. You rolled your eyes before nodding at him. In all honesty, it was the best you'd ever had. He was the best you'd ever had.

Your hand dropped from his face to rest on your stomach as you sighed deeply with closed eyes. Your body still hummed with the aftermath of your high, and you felt you didn't have the energy to do anything except lay there with him.

Miguel glanced down at your hand and carefully lifted it off your body to inspect it. Around your wrist were angry red markings from when you had fought against your bindings. They didn't even hurt really, but they didn't look pretty either.

"I'm sorry about this," he murmured softly as he traced his fingers over the skin of your wrists. You looked up at his face and realized that this was the first time you had ever heard him apologize about anything, and by his gentle voice and concerned face, you knew he was being sincere.

His eyes moved away from your hands to look at you, and you offered him a soft smile. "Payback," you whispered, finally breaking your own muteness. Your comment seemed to assuage the concern he had for accidentally hurting you, and a subtle smile formed on his lips. "Payback," he agreed.

You held his gaze for a moment, relishing the way his face softened at you. There was a sheen of sweat on his skin that gleamed in the dim light of his room. Neither of you said anything, you simply admired each other in silence while your bodies were still humming with pleasure.

"We should get cleaned up," he murmured finally. You closed your eyes with a quiet groan. "I don't want to move," you told him with a sigh. He smirked down at you before sitting up. "Come on," he said quietly as he moved his arms under your body.

You giggled as he picked you up and carried you out of bed the same way he took you to it. His skin was warm, and when you leaned your head against his chest, you could hear his steady heartbeat in his chest.

He carried you like that into his bathroom before setting you down in front of the shower. It was extremely spacious with the shower head placed high above you. He turned on the water, and after a few moments, steam began filling the air, and you stepped under it together.

Neither of you spoke a word the whole time. You were still reeling from everything he had done to you, and Miguel didn't seem to mind the silence. There was something intimate about the two of you together, completely exposed for each other and yet not engaging in anything sexual.

Miguel had wordlessly offered you a wash cloth that you were now using to lather soap onto your body. As you washed away all the evidence of your activities together, you were replaying what just happened in your mind. Babygirl, cariño, love—all those nicknames he gave you in the heat of the moment echoed in your head. Did he ever mean them? Or did he just get swept away in all the sweat and hormones and say them?

You watched as he let the water run over his head, and you noticed all the scars that scattered across his back. It took all your willpower not to trace your fingers across his muscular shoulders. You loved seeing him with his guard down, and as he wiped away the water from face, you were reminded that he wasn't some untouchable deity like some of the other Spiders thought; he was just a man.

You weren't sure how long you were in there before Miguel finally turned the water off. You stood and waited while he retrieved two towels for you both. He ran his over his hair before tying it around his waist. Then, he came over and wrapped your towel around your body.

You were about to make a quiet joke about how you could do it yourself, but as he covered your body with the towel, he kept his arms wrapped around your form, his body engulfing yours as he pulled you against his chest. He held you like that for a few seconds, and the idea of you speaking in a moment like that felt irreverent.

Finally, he broke the silence between you by whispering, "You're staying here tonight?" It seemed like less of a question than an assumption, and you wondered if you had only imagined the hopeful tone in his voice. Wordlessly, you nodded. Of course you would stay the night. You would stay every night if you could.

He pulled away from your body after another second, allowing you to secure your towel around your torso. He left you alone in the bathroom as you continued drying yourself off, and when you came back out to his room, you found him under the covers with his eyes closed. You thought he was asleep for a moment, but as you approached the bed, his eyes blinked open to look at you.

Letting your towel fall away, you crawled into bed with him. Without a word, you gave Miguel a long, slow kiss before settling down next to him. Almost as soon as your head hit the pillow, you realized just how exhausted you were by your excursions together, and you felt yourself drifting off in no time.

You were brought back to consciousness when you heard him whisper your name. "Hmm?" You replied lazily, unsure of whether or not you imagined it in your dozing. Your eyes were still closed as you heard him sigh.

"You can come on the mission."

You were definitely imagining things now. Your eyes fluttered open in confusion, and you found him looking at your face expectantly. "What?" You questioned, unable to process what he had said.

"You can come on the mission with me," he repeated softly. You lifted your head up off the pillow as you understood what he was telling you. "But—but I lost the bet," you told him. His lips bore a faint smile at your reaction. "I told myself if you could make it to sundown, I'd let you come," he explained.

You stared at him, dumbfounded. The complete surprise you felt at him completely eclipsed any sort of joy you would feel at being able to go on the mission. Finally, you asked, "Why?" He didn't respond for a moment, but when he did, he said, "You were right. You are one of the best."

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Not only had Miguel O'Hara changed his mind, but he had admitted that you were right about something. Never in a million years would you have thought that even one of those statements would be true, let alone both.

"Don't get too excited," he warned, noticing your reaction to his words. "After this, no more missions with me. This is just the exception." A smile slowly grew on your face, the idea finally settling into your mind that you got to be on the coveted team to bring down the anomaly. "Because you need me," you asserted playfully.

Miguel rolled his eyes at you. "Don't push it," he grumbled, making you chuckle. "Okay, fine," you replied as you laid your head back down on the pillow, and after a beat of silence, you added with all the sincerity you possessed, "Thank you." You both stared at each other wordlessly for a moment until he said gently, "You're welcome."

With that, you closed your eyes again and let sleep finally overcome your body.

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fictionadventurer · 2 months

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Just made myself emotional about Lily and the explorer.

He left his home as soon as he could because it was this boring country town. Then he comes back and meets this girl for whom his boring hometown is this terrifying fantasy world. And he's determined to show her that it's worth exploring, and in the process of showing her its wonders and seeing it through her eyes, he starts to see the beauty he had overlooked and gains a whole new appreciation for his home.

I can't think of another portal fantasy with this dynamic, and I'm obsessed with it as a romantic arc.

#lily between worlds #which unexpectedly came to mind #and i realized that all my 'read all the victorian books now' cravings could be satisfied by thinking about this story #with bonus worldbuilding elements that satisfy any cravings for culturally intricate fantasy worlds

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kuwdora · 2 months

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Saturday Morning Vid Recs - Video Games

@poetikat ! So you like video games. WELL! I come bearing video game recs from around the Internet, deep into old vidshows of yester-vidding fandom-year, and my bookmarks and recs posts. There’s always way more video game vids out there, esp on AO3 - search for your video game fandom and the Fanvids tag and see what comes up in your results.

Some of these vids date back a decade or more and some are very recent. They’re all awesome and so interesting to watch.

Video Game Vids!

America by @beccatoria. Mass Affect: Andromeda. #colonialism

Hard Times by absternr. Portal. I laughed and cried. Gonna make you wonder why you even try.

Riverside by milly. Tomb Raider (2013). I see how everything is torn in the river deep", Lara PoV. Vid for the 2013 Tomb Raider game.

River by milly. Tomb Raider (2018) This is so fucking gorgeous. Stand and deliver. / Made for VividCon Challenge "Full Circle" in 2018, a sequel/parallel to "Riverside". Reverse Dance by @aurumcalendula. Dishonored. A great character vignette! Billie through the years.

Pop Galaxy by AbsoluteDestiny. Super Mario Galaxy. ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️. I’m really in love with the use of the camera angles from the game, and this pop medley is very much a banger of 2013. It’s so much fun.

Scream and Shout by @rhoboat77. Assassin’s Creed. I’m forever screaming about how awesome this vid is in my head but now I share it with everyone. Forever shouting because rhoboat captured all of the game footage!! To make THIS VID. The skill and talent and sheer fucking perseverance to perform some of these actions in the game specifically for this vid. Everything is permitted.

Pop That Lock by @kuwdora. Final Fantasy VII: Remake. Cloud/everyone. Final Fantasy + Adam Lambert = my groove. You got the key to your release, so pop that lock until you’re lighter than air.

D U S K by niyalune. Outer Wildes. This game is gorgeous and this vid is so fucking beautiful and full of wonder and heart "The universe is, and we are."

We’re Here Because We’re Here by violace. Journey 2012. We're here because we're here. Maybe it's really that simple.

Brother (Last Ride) by @kuwdora. The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt. The wolves of Kaer Morhen. I captured all my own game footage for this vid! A first for me. We face the fire together, brothers 'til the end. Never Seen The Light of Day by violace. Bioshock Infinite. This character study really takes you on Elizabeth's journey! Amazing song choice and what a game. And the truth shall set you free. -- A tribute to Elizabeth.

Birds, Birds, Birds by bironic. Wingspan. Tabletop game play, video game, trailers. Bironic has done it again and created something so incredible and something I haven’t seen before and inspired me and struck everyone full of awe and love. I got birdies, dawg.

9 to 5 by @eruthros. Lego Star Wars. This is so damn cute! It's a tough life for a clone trooper or stormtrooper.

One Foot by @kuwdora. Star Wars: Jedi Fallen Order. Cal Kestis my beloved. Taking this one step at a time.

Start Wearing Purple by @findmeinthealps Mythic Quest. Not a video game per se but about the people who make them. Poppy Li and Iann Grimm. Hot messes who end up making some great and terrible choices along the way. All your sanity and wits, they will all vanish, I promise.

Hurry, Hurry, Hurry by @marahsarie. Outer Wildes. This vid!! is so cute!! and wonderful!! All my friends and all the loose ends and this love of mine, 'cause I'm running out of time.

Anything For Love (Including That) by caramarie Mass Effect/Dragon Age. Thanks for the terrible romantic choices, Bioware.

For more video game vids:

Vidding community on dreamwidth - see the games tag: dishonored, carmen san diego,resident evil and more.

Vividcon Database: 2013 Video Games Vidshow

Spring Equinox 2013 theme: Game On! which includes video games (and sports game themes)

Vidding Discord: ask for recs from more vidders!

Previous Saturday Morning Vid Recs:

Women!

Space and Robots

Animals

Follow the tags to keep up with recs this summer:

#saturday morning vid recs

#kuwdora vid recs

#kuwdora recs

A helpful guide I wrote:

How to Leave Feedback on Fanvids

#saturday morning vid recs #vid recs for poetikat #kuwdora vid recs #kuwdora recs #vid rec #vidding #fanvid #fanvideo #fanvids #fan video #fan videos #fan edit #video edit

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sunshine-for-serotonin · 2 years

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Self indulgent Nsfw Erik Destler Post!!

Based on my headcannons

Tags(warnings????):French, stalking, Yandere Erik, clothes stealing, dacryphillia, male masturbation, desperate Erik, light overstim, light edging, Erik really needs you to fuck him senseless, modern!reader ended up in 1800s France through magic means

It truthfully hadn’t been a slow thing, Erik thought. You had shown up so suddenly through a portal in the middle of an opera practice giving everyone a fright. Many people were quick to accuse the opera ghost of trickery, however thankfully you were able to convince the managers of your innocence, and were offered to stay as long as you helped around on set. Rather unfortunately for you though, Erik had taken a special interest in you. Christine long forgotten, Erik watched how you interacted with everyone and noted just how kind and ethereal you were, and soon enough, him watching you interact with others turned into watching you during his every waking moment.

Eventually after some more stalking, Erik decides he is ready to let you meet him. Upon leaving a rabbit trail of notes detailing you on how to make your way below the opera populair, you find him standing in front of his boat, almost nervous in stature. After brief introductions you decided to talk more in-depth with the famous opera ghost, and you found yourself growing fond of him, even setting up times to visit the masked man of your own accord! As for Erik, he seemed to spiral down the rabbit hole of love faster than he ever had before. Images of you embracing him, or the two of you kissing and experiencing other romantic moments plagued him in his sleep, and when you hugged him for the first time, he officially passed the point of no return.

It started off with small things at first, taking items like hair ties, strands from your hairbrush, and even your soaps, things that you could easily brush off as simply being misplaced. Eventually though, Erik began to take larger things, like your favorite night gown, your bras, and even your favorite pair of lacey underwear. Of course you had your suspicions about Erik, but that all slipped to the back of your mind as the month of the crews biggest opera was upon you, leading Erik to where he was now.

Truly he didn’t mean to catch you while you were dressing, it was simply an accident! But here he was in your closet, the place he was just about to exit to see you before he became fully aware of the sight in front of him. Erik bit down on misshapen lip hard, hands hovering over his pants, desperate to ground himself before he lost his composure and made a mess in your closet at the sight of your bare visage. Quickly turning on his heel Erik moved the false wall that lead to his underground abode, walking as fast as he physically could without breaking into a dead sprint. Heavy pants left Erik’s mouth as he made it to his sleeping quarters, and he was sure his face was a brilliant rouge hue as he removed his mask and wig. Wasting no time Erik got on his knees and opened the top drawer from underneath his vanities mirror, pulling out a pair of your dirty lingerie and what he believed he remembered you calling a ‘hoodie’. Quickly yet gently, he placed the clothing articles onto his sheets as he stripped himself bare and clambered back onto his bed. Rolling over to the side, Erik quickly snatched up one of your pillows he stole as well as your lingerie. Eriks body was practically in up in flames as he let his fantasies take over; your body positioned above his hips as you lowered your top half to kiss him passionately, the way your pussy would rub up the length of his cock to tease him as you smiled into the kiss. Eriks neck was just waiting for you to mark him up, he thought to himself, for your lips to suck on his skin and your teeth to play with him as you saw fit. Deciding he needed to be completely surrounded by the closest thing he could get to the real you, Erik hastily shoved your stolen hoodie over his gangly body as he had seen you do so many times before.

Grasping at your lacy underwear and raising the article to his mouth and nose, Erik took several deep inhales while his free hand roamed over pale flesh, massaging circles into his hips as they jutted into the air uncontrollably and his back arched, desperate for your soft touches. He wanted you so, so badly, wanted your hands all over his body and your lips on his as he made you feel good in anyway you wanted. Low and high pitched moans alike spilled from Eriks mouth as he began to lick and suck on the fabric of your underwear, wishing it was you he was mouthing at. Closing his eyes Erik imagined you there with him in that moment, cooing at him and calling him a good boy for eating you out so good, the way your thighs would wrap around his head and squeeze as he pushed you over the edge, how absolutely delicious you would taste as Erik pushed his tongue as deep as he could inside of you to desperately drink down your orgasm while you lovingly caressed his face. Eventually his free hand began to palm at his erection roughly causing his moans to increase as beads of precum dripped down his cock onto his stomach and the hem of your hoodie. Desperate cries of your name spilled from Eriks deformed mouth as he brought himself to the edge, teasing and tugging at his cocks head just like he imagined you would, only to pull back abruptly, practically mewling at the loss of touch. “ Mon a-ange, I need more! Please, please, p-please, oh- it feels so good, I-I feel so good! Please touch me more, please!” At those words Erik scrambled to grab at your pillow before pulling it as tight as he could to his body, his cock snuggly positioned in between his stomach and the satin case. Letting out needy whimpers and whines, Erik began to grind against your pillow rapidly while your name fell from his lips like a prayer. Images of you on top of him sent Erik’s mind absolutely reeling, he could practically taste your lips on his and feel the way you would clench around him as you reached your own climax. “Please, I-I-I- hmnnh- I’ll b-be, ahh- I’ll be so good for you, mmm-!!” No sooner had those words left Eriks mouth, Erik orgasmed hard as tears gathered in the corners of his eyes. “ Merci! Merci, mon cheri! Please keep going! I feel so good, I feel so good!! Je t’aime, je t’aime, j-je t-t’aime!!!” Erik couldn’t help himself as his speech slurred and stuttered with the overwhelming amount of pleasure assaulting his senses, and yet all he did was hold your pillow tighter and grind even faster as teardrops fell from his glassy eyes. He wanted you here with him right now! Wanted you to use him for your pleasure and tell him he was doing so good for you! Erik needed you to kiss him till he was breathless and fuck him dumb, marking him with your lips all over his body! He needed you to tell him in between moans how much you loved him, how he belonged only to you, and that you would never leave him for anything! “Im yours!! Im all yours, mon ange!!! Please orgasm for me please, please, please!!!! Use me, tell me I’m yours, mon ange please!!!” More tears slipped down Erik’s face as his eyes rolled into the back of his head, and with a final broken high pitched moan Eriks hips stuttered as cum once again splattered onto your pillow and his lower abdomen. After a few seconds of calming down Erik rolled to his side and grabbed a fresh pillow, and gently maneuvered your hoodie from his body onto it with the grace of someone handling a priceless artifact. “Je t’aime, mon amour. I hope that someday this will be real….. je t’aime.” Erik kissed the pillow that was wrapped in both your hoodie and his arms before finally drifting off to sleep with a smile on his face and you in his dreams.

#yandere Erik destler #yandere poto #erik destler x reader #erik destler #phantom of the opera #smut #yandere

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author-a-holmes · 2 years

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Nanowrimo 2022 - Day Ten

And... we're officially well behind lol.

It's okay though. There's still time. And even if I write nothing else this month, I've made 5k progress!

I have plans for making this weekend a 10k weekend to try and catch up. Gonna set myself up with a Social Media ban, and just write all day on Saturday and Sunday, and see where I end up.

The last five days weren't a complete collection of zero days though. Although I didn't count any of it for nano, I did spend some time editing another chapter of Changeling.

That needed some rewriting. So I've got some words in, just none of the words I actually needed.

The 787 words I did get were done between 11 pm and midnight on the 10th, so right at the 11th hour. I'm hoping that's a sign of things beginning to pick up again.

How's everyone else doing?

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sarahreesbrennan · 2 months

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MULTIPLE Starred Reviews for Evil

I can’t thank Booklist & Emily Whitmore enough seeing both sides of my epic romantic portal fantasy, in which scheming ‘Barbie’ crashes into Game of Thrones. I so wanted both sides of the story to come through, from chaotic humour to high fantasy and tragedy. And both stories are love letters to the stories and the tropes and the fandoms I’ve loved, and to living through art and changing the story by being in it.

#sarah rees brennan #writeblr #readblr #book reviews #Sarah Rees brennan #fandom #game of thrones #barbie #booklist #Portal fantasy #isekai

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pixie-in-a-moonlantern · 6 months

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KILL ME LIKE A LOVER

Durgetash | explicit 18+ Enver Gortash x f!Durge / Halsin Silverbough x f!Durge smut, sex, p in v sex; homicidal urge, light bondage in a non-sexual setting, graphic threats of violence; prolonged emotional/physical hurt, comfort, fluff, love confession, 2 romantic relationships (separate for now, hinting at possible future poly f!Durge/Halsin/Gortash)

❗ Closely follows events of the first fic: I Don't Like You (Tumblr | AO3)

Read on AO3 for more context and comfort (I'll be very grateful if you toss me a kudo there as well, even if you read and reblog here ♥ - remember, fic writers share their work for free!)

13,795 words in 10 chapters

My Spotify playlist for this couple »

“You’re back,” he whispers, and an almost maniacal glow radiates from him. “And something in you is drawn to me, I can see it. It makes me hopeful.” He tilts his head to the side and brushes hair away from my neck. “Did you really not expect me to use every resource at my disposal to convince you to stay?”

I gulp. Gods, I should never have gone to see him. Some things are best left buried, some fires best left extinguished. But I poked a bibberbang and now my world is ablaze.

01 She walks escorted.

The Watcher walks beside me the whole way to Wyrm's Rock. I try keeping my head down, but any hope of not being noticed is lost with every thundering step the Watcher takes. People hold the Baldur's Mouth gazettes and point at the hallowed hero as she walks escorted to the City's would-be savior for an audience.

I wish I could just open up a portal to the Hells in the sidewalk and jump in. Gortash is going to pay for this one.

We finally reach the elevator to the audience hall and the stupid clanker squeezes in with me. I bulge my eyes, just about ready to go on a murder spree.

"Seriously? It goes straight up into the tower, where else do you think I could go?"

"There is no need for alarm, citizen," the Watcher assures me monotonously, not moving an inch. "I was instructed to deliver you safely directly to the Archduke, Lord Gortash."

"Would you chill with the 'Archduke' already?" I groan, head lulled back. "You know he's not one yet, right? No matter how many times you repeat it."

The Watcher doesn't respond. Perhaps Gortash expects such quips from people and instructs his hellish machines to not react. Or—perhaps if I was other people the metal hulk would just smash me on the spot for such a comment. Fucking tyrant.

What was even wrong with me when I willingly worked with this man, having just as deprived plans for the Sword Coast myself? Did I accidentally get lobotomized into a sane person? That would be one Hell of a joke on fate. And on Bhaal.

I imagine he must be simmering in his own rage, watching his prized child run around helping refugees. That little fantasy cheers me up. I lean on the side of the elevator and just chuckle to myself through the ride, mocking Daddy dearest in the relative privacy of my skull.

The Audience hall is deserted once more. The Steel Watch form a line in between the columns from the entrance to the dais on the other side, standing at attention. It's like some sort of welcoming ceremony, but just for little ol' me.

I reluctantly scale the acres of red carpet over stone flooring, feeling my chest tighten.

Gortash watches me as I approach, the remote-control suit of armor still stomping next to me. This time, he sits on the throne in all his grimy glory like the shameless usurper he is.

Except... he doesn't look grimy. Did he bathe again? What in the Hells does he think he can pressure me into doing?!

... again.

If there's a term for how his face simultaneously brightens and darkens, I can't recall, but that's exactly what happens. He's happy to see me and has very unsavory thoughts about it.

The Watcher only peels off my path once I'm literally at the lowest steps before the dais. I cross my arms over my chest and give Gortash my most unamused expression, even though my heart is racing with both fear and excitement.

He smiles as if he didn't notice it and opens his arms wide in a grand welcoming gesture. "My dearest assassin," he exclaims, voice warm like sunshine.

"Yeah, right, whatever," I roll my eyes. "So what, do I just stand here, like a pleb before their master, or did you have something civil in mind?"

He leans back in his seat and pats his thigh, a smirk playing around his lips. "You can always come sit on my lap."

Indignation and an unwelcome spark of lust flood my chest. I let out a bestial growl, not quite sure if I mean to intimidate him or my inner demons.

Gortash chuckles and, to my surprise, actually stands from his throne and steps down, until he's face-to-face with me.

It's hard to say whether he made it better or worse. I try to keep my gaze from wandering down his ridiculously low cleavage, but looking into his eyes is not much safer. They gleam with both smugness and affection and my stupid heart flutters.

"How lovely to see you, Nara," he drawls, sight approvingly gliding up and down my body. "I love how you chose to wear your custom made version of my gauntlet."

I sigh. I should've known he would bring it up.

I woke up on the nautiloid wearing that thing. I didn't remember anything about it, but it looked badass and was also quite useful. I store a healing potion in the socket and even the claws have come in handy in a pinch.

I didn't feel like getting rid of it when I noticed him wearing the same thing in Moonrise, because I grossly underestimated the significance. I just thought he set off a new trend among Baldurians and I wasn't immune to the allure. Happens to the best of people, right?

After I made the mistake of having sex with my ex, I figured ditching it won't help me anyway—if I do it now, it will only show him that I care.

"I didn't exactly have time to change for you, Gortash," I sneer. "You had your metal munchkin threaten me into coming here. It paraded me through the town, taking the busiest route. What do you think I am to you? Your lapdog? Your fucking mascot?"

Despite my derisive tone, he chances a step closer and my heart jumps up into my throat.

"You came to see me yourself first, remember? No one forced you."

"Well, at least no one saw me then," I bitch.

"Too bad," he bites his lip, coming closer.

He slowly, cautiously reaches out and runs the backs of his fingers along my jaw. I grit my teeth in an effort to not show it, but I like it too much to make him stop. He smiles contentedly and keeps lightly touching my face.

"You're back," he whispers, and an almost maniacal glow radiates from him. "And something in you is drawn to me, I can see it. It makes me hopeful." He tilts his head to the side and brushes hair away from my neck. "Did you really not expect me to use every resource at my disposal to convince you to stay? Nara?"

I gulp. Gods, I should never have gone to see him. Some things are best left buried, some fires best left extinguished. But I poked a bibberbang and now my world is ablaze.

"Do your friends know what you did the other night?" he smirks, smarminess making its comeback in his voice. "Does your druid know?"

"I tell him everything," I say equally smugly, finally gaining some leverage. "He's the most wholesome man I know. He's not trying to own me or isolate me like some."

A shadow of irritation and disappointment dims the self-satisfaction in his face. Point for me.

"Karlach wasn't so understanding," I continue, narrowing my eyes. "She's worried about me falling for you. I told her it's a ridiculous notion, but she proceeded to make me feel better by describing how she's going to disembowel you if you hurt me."

He scoffs. "I can imagine. She always was a crude weapon. Effective, but crude. Nothing like your refined style." His gaze softens again when he gently combs the hair on my temple with the claws of his gauntlet. "You never used brute force, yet there was no one you couldn't break. I wouldn't have been an exception, but you stayed your hand. Against your father's explicit wishes, apparently."

"I'll break you right now if you want," I say in a trembling voice. His tone and touch are doing things to me. I'm getting scared and the Urge in me is trying to respond to the stress with violence.

His mouth stretches into a delighted smile. "I'm sure you'd like that. But so would he. I thought you were done being his good girl?"

My throat goes dry as I recall the night it all went awfully wrong. When I failed to do my duty one too many times. When I got my reward for disobedience.

"What Orin did to me," I croak, "was Bhaal's punishment for my refusing to kill you."

Once Gale understood the predatory patterns of his former lover, he got eerily good at interpreting gods' behavior. He gave me more answers than even Gortash managed to. Knowing this lifted a certain weight off my mind; I wasn't just discarded for being useless—I was being a bad murderer to Daddy and he decided to teach me a lesson.

Gortash's face goes slack for a moment, before darkening with realization. He didn't know. Or he didn't want to. It was easier to blame Orin's ambition.

"So, yeah, I'm done being his tool. If I do kill you, Enver," I'm the one to reach for him this time, running a fingertip down that enticing window of his shirt, "I'll be killing you for myself."

He gulps, fumbling for lost balance. "Incorrect, sweetheart. It was punishment for loving me. Not calling it what it is doesn't make it any less true."

"Did I, though?" I've had a long sleepless night thinking about it. "I was a naive, brainwashed cultist. Did I really choose you? Or were you just convenient? The only man around with enough balls to risk it with me, maybe? Or worse: the only one who figured how easy it would be to use me?"

I'm hissing by the time I finish the last sentence and I can see how close to home it hits. His chest heaves and he takes a few steps back, turning from me. I can't see his face, so I assume he's looking for a way to refute my accusations.

"I don't know."

His voice is so small I can barely hear it. Small and vulnerable, filled with insecurity. I'm once again reminded of the image I created of the little boy Gortash treated to neglect and betrayal instead of love, and I feel the telltale stinging in my eyes.

He slowly turns back, his expression a pure emotional chaos.

"I... don't know if you chose me," he says a little louder this time, but still sounds so... lost. "One day we just... were and..." His eloquence bends under the heft of his uncertainty. "It was so easy to be with you, so... natural. I..." He closes his eyes against the turmoil raised by the memories. "At first I figured you were just having a bit of fun rebelling against Bhaal, but... You were so amazing. So warm, when your Urge was satisfied. I've never... no one ever made me feel like you did."

The only things I knew of our relationship were what he told me. I imagined it a lot different than what it sounds like now, after he suffered a sobering blow to his ego. I can't know how much of this is genuine... but he suddenly painfully reminds me of Astarion, the way he fumbles in the dark as soon as his winning act falls apart.

I know he's not a good man. I've heard plenty about the things he's done—and is still doing. But how much of his flaws can I blame on nature when I also know what he's been through? He's a survivor. No one is inherently evil—not even me.

The people you surround yourself with have a profound effect on you. Even Astarion's worst traits are being slowly worn down in the unexpected acceptance he's receiving. If it had been Gortash who was betrayed, almost killed and taken, and then found by such a wholesome group of similarly afflicted weirdos, would he have remained selfish and cruel? Or would he have chosen a better path, like me?

"I thought I was a 'horrible influence' on you." I swallow hard. I shouldn't believe a word he says... but I do.

"You were," he shrugs casually. I find him a lot more pleasant without the air of fake grandeur. "We did wonderfully bad things together, things I wouldn't have thought of myself. But that was your heritage." He studies my face for a second, longing in his eyes. "No one taught you to be silly and fun. No one taught you to be gentle. No one taught you how to appreciate more than blood and guts in people. You bloomed with all colors like a flower, when we were alone."

I blink the tears away and hug myself. No wonder Bhaal got mad. He wasn't raising me to be gentle and fun. He wanted a devoted follower. He wanted to own me. And yet I seem to have found myself in someone else instead of him.

He couldn't smite him, so he took it out on me.

"Then why can't I remember any of this?" I whisper. "My murdering days keep coming back to me. But the picture where you should be is blank."

I don't expect it and certainly don't wish for it, but Gortash notices my discomfort and rushes to me. He takes my shoulders and squeezes them reassuringly.

"You are his creation," he says grimly. "He has the power to restore everything within you. It's clear why he chooses only the parts without me: for the same reason he had Orin attack you. You were a different person with me—a person he didn't like and didn't need. He won't let you remember me as long as your blood belongs to him."

I'm getting overwhelmed. I feel used, manipulated, trapped. I feel my fear and smell the scent of my blood as Orin's beating the life out of me, calling me slurs I've never heard of. I feel as if someone's invisible hand presses on my windpipe and I sense a dreadful but familiar presence.

"NO!" I'm shaking my head wildly, trying to push him out. The world seems to blacken around me, but I keep fighting. "I'M DONE WITH YOU, YOU HEAR?!" I yell blindly at the ceiling, pulling on my hair.

YOU CAN NEVER BE 'DONE' WITH ME, CHILD.

I gasp when his voice thunders in my brain without having gone through my ears. It's deafening and it's all around me, smothering me.

YOUR CONTROL IS AN ILLUSION. GIVE IN. OBEY. BEFORE YOU FORCE ME TO END YOU.

I shudder and shrink into myself, falling to my knees, cradling my head. I'm suspended in agony for several impossibly long seconds... then my vision goes black.

02 Daddy sets an ultimatum.

"...Talas... Talas!"

My head is pounding and feels like it's stuffed with cotton. Someone's calling out my name... but it's not really my name.

"Nara!"

There it is. But it feels wrong. I feel movement, but can't tell what's happening.

"You know what," I grumble and I'm surprised to hear my own voice, "I've changed my mind. I hate the way you say it."

"Thank the devils," I hear Gortash snort. "As names go, exchanging 'Talas' for 'Nara' is a pure downgrade."

I open my eyes. Red mist is clouding my gaze. I feel thirsty and hungry. A rough palm cups my chin and a violent jerk runs through my body, making my teeth snap and try biting it. But the hand is strong and its grip tightens enough to hold me still.

"Easy now," Gortash hums, unbothered by my little attack. "You're safe. I'm safe. Let's work through it slowly. We've got all day."

I look up and find his face and it's the only thing I can clearly focus on. Everything else is muted, but his features are so sharp I squint at the intensity at first. But I understand. I know what I want now.

I want to kill him.

I grunt and try to reach for him, but I'm restrained. I look down through the red haze and see myself kneeling on red satin sheets. I'm still wearing all my clothes, but my boots, armor and gauntlet are off. The ties right above my elbows creak like tough leather as I strain against them, but I can clearly feel soft padding pressed against my skin. My wrists are bound in front of me. I can move, sit back, relax...

...but I need to KILL.

"Let. Me. Loose," I filter through my gritted teeth, almost foaming at the corners of my mouth like a rabid animal. Then a maniacal giggle gurgles in my throat. "And I'll show you something fun!"

"For fuck's sakes, you're beginning to sound like Orin," Gortash shakes his head in disappointment. "I'm sure you'd have fun, my dear, but if I'm not completely off my game, I believe you would regret it later. Maybe you would even cry for me?" His brows form a hopeful little arch, a soft smile playing on his lips. "I'm not keen on finding out, but I'd like to think you would."

I growl, pulling on my binds with all my strength.

"Don't be a spoilsport, Enver, come on!" I tease, baring my teeth, my tone dark, rough, vulgar. "I know you like the pain. I will cut you and slice you and bleed you real nice. You'll love it, I promise."

"Ssshhh," he soothes, caressing my face, skillfully evading my bites. "You can cut me when you calm down, Talas. You won't get to kill me today."

Anger jolts through me, hot like a branding iron. I lurch at him, uselessly dangling on the ends of the thick chains tying the leather cuffs to the bed frame.

"You will let me loose! And I'll tear you to pieces." My voice scratches like sandpaper. "I will slit your throat... and as you bleed out, I will lick blood off your soft skin." Growls turn to hisses. "I will drink blood from your sweet lips. I will shower in the thick stream of it as the last pathetic bubbles of your breath emerge and burst at the edges of the fresh cut. Then curl against your struggling chest to listen as your heart stops."

Gortash smiles as he listens, infuriatingly misty gaze softening his features.

"That sounds almost romantic," he purrs. He holds my hair firmly in his fist to keep my head steady and nuzzles my neck, slowly kissing a line from my shoulder up to my lobe. "I always thought the Urge was purely homicidal," he hums against my skin, "but is it possible you're mixing in your love and lust for me? Would you kill me like a lover?"

A chortle escapes my lips and I realize he's given me back a sliver of myself. I don't have the capacity to analyze if it were his words or his touch, but a tiny, heavily suppressed part of me suddenly knows what's happening. It knows this is not me. My Urge is spreading through me like a malignant growth, filling every inch of my torso, of my head, and that little piece of me is watching in horror.

No....

I let out a tortured moan and my head lulls back for a second. I can feel my body spasming and the agony is making it hard to keep my thoughts remotely clear. I hear my blood thrum in my ears, and a low voice speaks inside my skull:

It is wise to obey me. Yet you resist. You did not kill the Moonmaiden. You did not kill the druid. But you WILL kill the Tyrant's Chosen.

Or you will DIE in his place, child.

I feel tears trickle out of my eyes, even as my mouth is making raw, animalistic noises. The pressure in my temple grows so much I feel like my head is going to pop. It's excruciating, but I have no intention to submit. I fight with all my will, defiantly flipping off the god I didn't choose till the bitter end.

"En... ver," I squeeze through the teeth I grind so roughly my jaw hurts. My voice is but a wet wail, a desperate plea—but it's mine.

If I could focus on anything beside the blinding pain, I would see the alarm in his face. I register his hands on my arms, holding me upright. The sound of his voice carries over my head, but I can't distinguish the words. A high-pitched whine fills my ears. My vision fades to black again.

And I fully expect to not wake up this time.

03 We are still alive!

A chunk of void. A big skull in the center of it. Flames dancing in its eye sockets and around it. Almost playful.

I don't understand its meaning. Who am I, anyway?

Even though the skull is clearly before me, I can feel it surround me. It presses on my temples and squeezes my chest. I feel a headache of the century crush my head in its metal jaws.

A creature slinks from behind the skull. Hideous, covered in blood. Long body with a thick tail and four clawed arms. It hisses and chitters, spreading its toothy mandibles. Its beady little eyes are flashing with malice.

I cover my head with my arms as it jumps at me.

But it's not there anymore. I try to gasp, but a sick clicking sound comes out of my mouth instead. I hear rumbling laughter—the giant skull is pleased, it's mocking me.

I reach forward and instead of hands I see claws coated in fresh blood...

...and I wake up screaming.

There's water everywhere. I thrash and splash and heave for breath, but my arms are wrapped tight around me and my wrists and ankles bound. I accidentally splash water into my mouth, breathe it in and start choking.

Someone's big, strong, incredibly warm hands fish me out and steady me, patting my back, helping me cough. I hear a soft rumble, but this time it's not eerie and foreboding—it's familiar and soothing. A broad palm strokes my wet hair, humming comforting sounds in my ear.

"You are safe, my love. I'm here."

I lift my heavy eyelids and look up. Halsin's beautiful face is in my view and my heart is uplifted. He puts a cold compress over my forehead and I feel a little better.

"Halsin," I squeeze out of my burning throat, failing to make it sound as loving as I felt.

He smiles anyway and his eyes sparkle with affection.

"You will be alright, my heart. I will take care of you."

"I will too," I hear another voice and Gortash steps into view, obviously annoyed by Halsin taking all the credit. He's hugging his chest, nibbling on the ends of his gold claws, looking anxious and worried.

I finally realize where I am. It's Gortash's study. The flames roar in the fireplace next to the bathtub and all lamps are lit: it's dark behind the tall windows. Through the finally calm water I see my body, completely naked.

But none of those things are important right now.

"Come closer, Enver," I croak, failing to produce a seductive voice, sounding like a hag instead. "Untie me, let's have some fun. We haven't finished what we've started."

Halsin and Gortash exchange glances. It only ticks off my Urge. I flail back and forth in the tub for a second, trying to loosen the binds, but they were put on by someone who knew what they were doing. It infuriates me, tearing a ragged scream from my lungs.

"COME CLOSER, BABY, AND LET ME GUT YOU!"

"Nara," Halsin pleads softly, stroking my hair again, putting back the compress I shook off and adding one to the back of my neck. "You will get through this, I promise. The tepid water and the cold compresses should help lower your blood pressure, so you don't suffer an aneurysm. You popped many blood vessels before you passed out. That's why Gortash called me here."

I feel the Urge let up just a smidge when the cool rags press on my aching head and Halsin's voice and touch give me comfort. I try to breathe deeply and steadily. But no matter how hard we both try, it's no use. I take one look at distressed Gortash and the pull is back in full strength.

"Have you experienced this before?" Gortash asks, doing his best to ignore my rabid growls.

"She woke me up in camp several nights ago," Halsin nods somberly. "Refusal to kill Isobel redirected the Urge at the person closest to her heart, as punishment. She came to me before it overtook her and put her trust in me. It lasted the whole night, but she won in the end. But it was not this bad..."

"He..." I try to utter words that are not permitted to leave my lips. I fight my own muscles to continue. "Said... He... Dies or... I do."

Halsin's brows join in surprise and he glances at Gortash again, whose face darkens even more.

"Sounds like we really pissed Bhaal off this time. She screamed at him, defying him, before the Urge took over. I was just an outside observer, but I figured he was communicating with her. Seems like we know the gist of the conversation now."

"What were you doing?" Halsin wonders.

"Nothing much," Gortash shrugs evasively. "Talking. Talas was learning more about our past, about how and why she came to such an unceremonial end in the cult. Said none of her memories of me returned to her. Clearly Bhaal's job."

"Nhhhnnnhhhng!" I add my gold to the discussion, thrashing in the tub again. I'm glad I'm at least able to follow their words, even though I can't contribute. Sweet images of me running my hands through Gortash's spilled guts flash in the back of my mind, but they're just white noise.

Halsin wipes my upper lip with a troubled expression. He lets go of me to touch the air in that divine way of his, to call upon Silvanus, and pulls healing energy out of nowhere, pressing it to my head with the broad palm of his hand. I breathe a little easier for a few moments.

"If this goes on for much longer, I'm afraid even I might not be able to help you," he sighs, squeezing his eyes shut, pressing his forehead to mine. I gulp and just moan in response, hoping my intonation will convey my thanks.

"I don't suppose we could trick the Urge somehow? Have her stab me a couple of times and then knock her out, and when she comes around I'll be lying in a pool of blood and... You get it."

Halsin chuckles in amusement.

"You would just let her stab you? Are you a masochist, or just so in love?"

"What kind of question is that?" Gortash growls defensively. "We have a problem. I'm offering a solution. If I had to die, I'd prefer it to be by her hand, but I plan no such thing just yet."

"I do not think it works quite like that," Halsin shakes his head. "But thank you for the offer."

"It's... my fault she's like this." Gortash's discomfort at admitting responsibility is evident. "I don't want her to die. So if you have ideas, I'll do anything to help."

"You can help me right now, Enver," I screech, failing to restrain myself. "Come here! Come and make love to me. But don't forget to untie me and bring me a knife. I'll show you a little trick! You'll be positively drained after I'm done with you."

"Perhaps the best thing you can do to help is to get out of her sight for now," Halsin suggests and only a touch of derision reaches his tone.

Gortash frowns and grumbles something under his breath, but takes his leave. There's only Halsin's broad form next to me now, effectively shielding me from seeing Gortash. My Urge immediately eases up and I lean back on the headrest, exhausted from fighting my own muscles.

It doesn't last long, though.

"Halsin?" I coo, swallowing hard as I feel another crushing wave of twisted need.

"Yes, my heart?" He bends down to kiss my forehead. It doesn't work as well as before, but I manage to hold back the instinct to bite.

"I love you," I tell him while I can still form words of my own choosing. "And I'm grateful for everything you do for me. Don't take this personally, but now that you're getting in my way of killing Gortash... I'm beginning to want to kill you, too."

He pulls away, but not far, and studies my face. I can see so much compassion in his eyes, but they're tired and he looks older. He wipes my upper lip again and sighs.

"This is going to be another long night, isn't it, my love?"

"Halsin, stop," I mumble weakly as he prepares another spell, looking more and more sapped every time. "Please. Just... let me go."

I'm so run down. The pain is debilitating. In the rare moments of peace, all I can do is float. My mind is fried, my organs struggling to keep running. I've had enough.

But the worst is the thought of accidentally pulling Halsin under with me.

"Do not even start," he growls. His voice sounds dry and spent, but he collects the healing energy and once more fixes some of the damage the high blood pressure has done to my vessels.

I want to cry, but I don't have the strength to do it. But I notice something: it's been really quiet for some time.

"Where's Enver?"

"He is... off trying something else."

The evasiveness would normally make me inquire, but the Urge lashes out again, spasming my body, forcing more horrible words out of my mouth.

"I WILL SKIN YOUR LUSCIOUS PELT, LITTLE BEAR! I WILL WEAR IT ON MY BODY AS I WATCH YOUR PATHETIC ATTEMPTS TO PUT YOUR GUTS BACK IN YOUR BELLY. I WILL—"

04 Unbearable lightness of unprecedented fluff.

I feel like I must have died when I open my eyes and nothing hurts anymore. The world is soft and quiet, the water around me like a blanket, the dim flickering lights enhancing the peaceful silence. Perhaps this was the afterlife.

"Welcome back."

I don't recognize the voice at first. I slowly turn my head to find Halsin—

—but I look into Gortash's worn out face, languidly blinking at me. I see a giant bear slumped on the rugs by the bathtub, exhausted from keeping me alive.

I watch Gortash in fear for a little moment. But there's no tug, no agony this time. I only feel... slight elation. My weary heart flutters, tapping into its last reserves of power.

"Enver," I whisper, letting my eyelids fall. I feel his palm cup my cheek and his lips plant a soft kiss on my forehead. Tears stream down my face, but I can't gather enough strength to sob.

It's over. It's really over. At least for now.

"Sshh," he coos quietly, combing my hair. "Do you feel like you can handle moving to the bed? I'm afraid you'll melt if you stay in that bathtub for much longer."

I take a few breaths and nod. The instant I move, I can feel all my muscles scream in protest, but I push myself through it. He's right, my skin is getting tender from soaking so much, I can't just sleep here anymore.

He unties me and that's when the ache in my arms and hands joins the party, making me whimper. I've struggled against my own body for hours and hours with only short reprieves of unconsciousness. It's taken a heavy toll. But I'm alive, and so is everyone else.

My legs are so wobbly I slip back into the water a few times, splashing around, sprinkling sleeping Halsin. His snout twitches and I hear a grumble, but he doesn't wake up. Poor thing.

Gortash is trying to hold me upright, but his angle is all wrong, standing next to the tub. But on my fourth try I manage. I just lock my knees and hope it'll be enough for a minute. I notice the water in the bath is surprisingly fresh after housing me for so long, but it's already draining—someone must've changed it several times during the night.

I gasp in surprise when warm drops start raining down on my head and shoulders.

"Another handy technological marvel," Gortash smiles. "Just try to keep yourself on your feet. Let me wash you."

He takes a sponge and a bar of soap and begins slowly rubbing my skin under the gentle, refreshing shower.

I'm too busy keeping my knees locked and staying awake to have any deep opinions on why he's being so caring. My foggy, tired mind is simply enjoying his attention.

He's gentle and thorough and doesn't shirk from any part of me, but doesn't linger for longer than necessary. I mistily welcome the muted rush of excitement his touch gives me and close my eyes, fully trusting him like I only could with my marbles scattered all over the floor.

"Mmm," escapes my lips. I don't know words, but apparently I can make sounds.

"Sit back down, I'll wash your hair," Gortash commands softly.

I sit curled up, my eyes shut, jaw slack, little mewls of pleasure coming out of my mouth. His fingers caress my scalp in circular motions, coaxing some blood back into my skin. It melts away my tension and feels so good against the leftover headache that still throbs in my skull.

Gortash picks up the shower head and rinses the shampoo foam off my hair. It finally hits me that it smells like him. I let out a quiet chuckle. Doesn't he have a special flower scented bottle for his feminine conquests? Maybe he just likes marking them this way.

He helps me stand back up again, dabs me with a towel and then wraps me in a robe.

"Come here, princess," he murmurs and pulls me into his arms.

And he carries me to the bed. I don't think I would protest even if I had the energy. I may be a strong independent woman... but this is nice.

He pushes a tray of food and drink to me and we both eat in silence. I can't force much into my wrecked throat, but I thirstily guzzle all the water and wine. The slight buzz is not helping my overused veins, but it does wonders for my cramped muscles.

Then I lie on my side, watching him freshen up and change. I finally have plenty of time and no capacity for shame; I take in every detail of him I can spot. The toned muscles of his legs. The line of fine dark hair on his chest going to his groin. The way his thick hair softly reflects light when it's crisp clean. The pleasant, earthy color of his skin. Every glance he tosses over to check up on me.

My heart flutters again. I gulp hard and convince my eyes to close, so I can't see any more of him.

Suddenly the mattress beside me sinks and I can feel him next to me. The warmth from his body envelops me, his scent fills my lungs and I find myself looking into his dark eyes. My poor blood pressure spikes again and I try making my gulps for air subtle, but I can see the delighted amusement deepen his crow's feet.

"Sleep," he sighs, studying my face. "You need to rest to get your strength back."

He runs his fingers through my damp hair and kisses my temple. His skin is soft and warm, but his short stubble and rough palms leave a tickling sensation that's driving me wild. I inhale a lungful of him and press my mouth to his jaw, testing the scratchy surface against my lips.

I can hear his breath quicken and feel his hand move to my shoulder and rub the silk of my borrowed robe. I take his face in my hands and bite this time—just a little, letting my teeth graze the stubble, enjoying the sweet scratch—and I hear a moan.

I forget myself. I forget who he is. I just want to keep tasting his skin.

His mouth is on mine. I hungrily welcome him in. His hand roams my body, kneading my flesh—mine frantically search his every surface, unable to decide where to stay. Perhaps I'm just cold from exhaustion, but I feel like he's radiating more heat than an average human being. I bathe in the warmth, pulling myself as close as possible.

The way he pulls air in through his teeth when I bite his lip is like music to my ears. How is this man so edible? He drags his fingertips across my face and I suck his thumb into my mouth. The low rumble of his chuckle travels right to the knot in my lower belly and my eyes roll back.

He presses me flush to his body, molding my flesh, and I let out a feral groan, grabbing fistfuls of his thick hair and pulling. I need him. I need him now.

His mouth moves to my neck, but he doesn't kiss and nibble like I want him to, he takes me by the nape and immobilizes me. I can hear his ragged breath in my ear as I blink in bewilderment.

"Talas," he exhales desperately. "I know your opinion of me has taken a sharp dive... but I don't fuck mentally compromised women."

He lets me pull away and I stare at him in doubt. He snorts, shrugging.

"Alright, I guess sometimes I do," he admits, "but I just know you'll wake up in the morning with your wits intact and hate me for taking advantage of you."

The hum of blood in my ears quiets down as I swallow my disappointment. Tears sting in my eyes; I can't tell why, but I feel robbed. He sighs and pulls me closer again, but only to hug me.

"I've missed you so much," he whispers into my hair. "I don't want to ruin this." Running his fingers through my hair once more, spreading soothing tingling over my skin, he rocks me gently. "Sleep. I promise I'll make it up to you later... if you still want me to."

I can barely hear his last words, but I sense the uncertainty in his tone. The pressure around my chest tightens and I wrap my arms around him and hold on. The pleasurable hormones surrender the stage to the exhaustion in my muscles and bones. I feel myself falling asleep even before my consciousness drifts off.

05 Warm bodies.

The soft light creeping in through my closed eyelids rouses me gently, but I'm so tired everything still feels like a dream. I cling to my drowsiness and try to go back to sleep again.

Then I feel a warm palm on my hip, stroking the silky fabric covering me.

I shift slightly, moving into the touch, and the hand slowly travels across my back. Another joins it, caressing my thigh. I moan quietly, reaching out for a body to hold—

—and I find two. Both are very warm and my hungry touch is ecstatic to feel each pressed to one side of me. I gently squirm between them, rubbing myself against soft muscle that eagerly responds in kind. Their musky scent is both soothingly familiar and enticingly erotic. I can hear two breaths and two sets of soft sighs as I let my palms feel my way across their skin.

I open my eyes and meet Gortash's sleepy eyes watching me. My heart jumps up into my throat and I jolt into a sitting position. I turn to find Halsin on the other side—probably crawled onto the bed when he felt strong enough to move again.

"Shit," I mumble under my breath, quickly removing myself off the satin sheets.

"And it was just getting good," Gortash laments wistfully, a tone of amusement coloring his raspy voice.

"Seriously? Jokes?" I pull my robe tighter around my body, suddenly self-conscious about being completely naked under a thin layer of translucent fabric, and prop my hands against my hips. "Did you even realize you were groping me right next to my partner?"

"As I recall, you were enthusiastically groping me back, sweetheart," he smirks. "A few hours back you didn't mind making out in front of him."

I gape mutely at them both for a second.

"I was out of my mind!"

Halsin groggily drags himself off the bed and holds me close, patting my back comfortingly.

"I'm sorry," I hum into his chest.

"There is nothing to be sorry for, my heart." He kisses the top of my head.

I push away to look at him sternly. "Yes, there is. You've spent your whole night taking care of me at great cost to yourself and the first thing I do when I'm finally okay is this? Not even my mental state is an excuse. I only want to make you feel loved and safe, not uncomfortable and uncertain. I don't deserve you."

Instead of appreciating my commitment, albeit failed, I see pain flash in his eyes.

"Halsin?" I sniffle, my chest filling with dread. "Please don't leave me."

His expression melts into a touched one. He cups my face and smiles softly.

"I'm not going anywhere, I promise," he rasps. "Not until you decide otherwise, my love. You have nothing to fear. I will always be by your side, for as long as you'll have me."

I feel tears trickle down my face, the relief mixing into my terror tapping a generous stream.

"Now I'm sorry," he sighs, futilely trying to wipe my tears away with his fingers. "I misunderstood. I thought..."

He didn't have to explain. It didn't even come to mind at first, but I figured it out.

"You thought I would replace you with him?" I chuckle through the turmoil in my chest. "Not in a million years."

"Yes, don't mind me," Gortash growls and removes himself from the bed as well. His face looks like it's carved from stone, cold and hard. We both watch him as he locks himself in the next room, leaving us alone.

"I think you hurt his feelings," Halsin says quietly and I can hear commiseration in his voice. "He really is in love with you, sweet thing."

"Well, I'm not in love with him," I snap. "I don't want to have anything to do with him."

I'm still raw from the suffering Bhaal has inflicted on me, and the realization of just how much my heart has softened towards Gortash puts me on edge. The possibility of hurting Halsin through another bit of my unfortunate past just piles on top of that.

"Far be it from me to push you towards another man," he smirks, mild amusement creeping into his expression. "But I don't want you to limit yourself on my behalf, Nara. I thought you understood that I don't wish to own you." He takes my hands and kisses my knuckles. "If that is what you need, you are free to be with anyone else to any extent you deem necessary for your happiness. I only want you to be safe and happy by my side. That is my only goal."

I close my eyes and let him lean his forehead against mine.

"You know that's my goal too, right?" I mumble.

I can sense he doesn't believe my words—never have. But I haven't figured out why. I really mean it. He's the ray of sunshine in my bleak days. I want him to keep shining at all costs, even if I'm not the one basking in the beams.

"You deserve all the joy you can get, my heart," he whispers. "Do not make me the one to stand in your way. I will always wait for you to come back home to me."

I swallow a new wave of tears. "Then let's go right now."

"No," he sighs. "I will go. You seem to have unfinished business here. When you are ready, find me in camp. I believe you are safe here, at least for as long as you don't try to kill him first," he chuckles.

"I just might," I grouse. "He's playing a dangerous game here. I didn't think he'd be so bold to try to seduce me in front of you. Didn't he notice how big you are? Doesn't he think you'd rip him to pieces if he pisses you off?"

"I think he knows he has a chance." Halsin gives me a slightly patronizing glance, likely getting tired of my refusal to acknowledge my weakness. "Doesn't he?"

"I don't want to have anything to do with him," I repeat, but my voice falters.

He smiles, presses his face to mine and inhales deeply. "I can smell your arousal, little duck," he chastises softly, combing my hair with his fingers.

"That's for you, too," I frown, a little embarrassed, recalling the unexpectedly pleasant first moments of my morning.

"I know," he nods and this time I can tell he's certain. "But you two have history. Unless you explore this road, you might spend the rest of your life wondering 'what if'... I don't want that for you. I don't want that for myself. Whatever you do, I would like you to be sure that you're not missing out on something. I will be here if you decide to come back to me."

I have no more to say. I let him press a kiss to my lips and watch him exit the room. I don't follow. I keep standing where he left me, hugging my shoulders.

"I can't believe you actually stayed."

I whip around to find Gortash in the doorframe, dressed and tidied up, shaved and smelling fresh. He's leaning on the doorframe and though his face is still grim, his swagger doesn't seem to have suffered irreparable damage.

"Don't congratulate yourself just yet, Enver," I sneer.

"Oh, don't be crabby, baby," he purses his lips in mock comfort. "You landed such a perfect boyfriend. I'm jealous, now I want one, too. Hurry up and break his soft heart—maybe he'll be interested in me instead."

"I'm not breaking his heart," I spit. "I love him."

That sentence makes him wince, but he recovers in record time, smirking like the bad boy he is.

"Then maybe I'll break it for you. When he's no longer there to enable you, will you run back into my arms?"

I don't realize I'm moving before I have his stupid tall collar bunched up in a fist, pushing him against the door. I bare my teeth, my nose a hair's-width away from his. My tortured muscles protest against such treatment, but the rush of adrenaline outvotes them.

"Touch him and I'll kill you," I hiss into his face. "Stone or no stone."

The initial flash of surprise, even fear, is quickly replaced with a seductive smile.

"Gods, I missed this fire," he grunts, grabbing my waist and pulling me flush to his body. "Too bad your devotion belongs to another now."

I tear from his grasp, gritting my teeth so hard they squeak. I don't know what else to do; hurting him only gave him twisted pleasure. So I stomp off to the bathroom, looking for my things, so I can leave this cursed place already.

06 Payback is a bitch.

I dress up in my clothes that feel like they've been freshly cleaned and pressed, and complete my morning routine with the conveniently offered supplies left in the bathroom for me. As I put on my gauntlet I have to stop and lean against the sink. My thoughts are spiraling.

Remembering all that I've done since I arrived at this tower is making me hyperventilate. Gods, I really did nearly jump Gortash's bones. My reason was clearly damaged, but... Gathering my wits didn't erase the desire. I still want him. I hate everything he stands for... but I can barely resist him.

I stare into my scarred face in the mirror, hoping to understand my own mind. Even if I really used to love him in the past doesn't mean I should now. It physically hurts me to imagine Karlach's probable response to that. And Wyll's. And everyone's, really. Apart from some of my companions who would prefer to take control of the Brain, or even to actually team up with the Tyrant's Chosen, none would approve.

"Oh, fuck me," I mumble.

I close my eyes for a few long seconds, trying to get a hold of myself. It doesn't help; my mind is serving me memories of Gortash's gentle, respectful touch, in blinding contrast to what I thought I knew about him. How does that happen? Was he just that good at playing me? Or was it genuine?

Poor Halsin. Perhaps the thing that scares me most is his disapproval. Would he stay by my side if I succumbed to my twisted desires? Would he be open to sharing me with a man who doesn't care who he abuses as long as it serves his power-hungry agenda? Even he must have a limit to what he's willing to tolerate.

I slam my hand against the mirror and growl. I feel like I'm being split in two. One part will not let go of the beautiful, peaceful vision of what life can be with Halsin. The other... the darkness in me, one that has nothing to do with the Urge, craves to be nourished, to be recognized and utilized, to be accepted.

Can I have both? Or is that just a mad hope of a lobotomized freak?

I need to get out of here, now.

I rush out of the room, then into the Audience hall. I'm hoping it's deserted and no one will notice me leaving, but Gortash is once again comfortably seated on the throne, his alert eyes on me the second I come into his field of vision. I slump my shoulders and frown, turning to him.

"Hey, look," I choose a neutral tone, nonchalantly hooking thumbs in my pockets, "I gotta go. We have lots to do in the city. There's a vamp that begs to be staked, a pregnant hag on the loose, and also Orin's not gonna kill herself."

"Ah, yes," Gortash drawls, getting up and slowly sauntering towards me. "You're very busy. The slayer of Ketheric Thorm. The hero who's lifted the Shadow Curse. Pretty impressive."

I purse my lips, glaring at him. Of course he figured out it was us who exchanged his planned article in Baldur's Mouth for a puff piece on us.

"Yeah, it would be a shame if we were slandered instead of celebrated, don't you think?" I nip sarcastically.

"Why do you think I made you come here, my dear," he tosses me a sour grin. "You get in my way, I get in yours. You'd do best to remember that."

I roll my eyes, folding my arms over my chest. I actually considered thanking him for what he'd done for me tonight, but I'm not in the mood to do that anymore.

"Yeah, yeah. If you're done threatening me, mind letting me go? Like I said, lots to do. You want the netherstone, or not?"

Gortash stops maybe an inch from me and leans in to whisper in my ear: "You're not a prisoner here, sweetheart."

A powerful shiver runs through me, so strong I can't possibly hide it. His gaze slides down my body and lips twist in a delighted, sinful smirk. My breath hitches at the sight of him and his scent makes my throat go dry.

He pulls back to a little more respectful distance. "But I thought you might want to have that brunch on the balcony I planned for us yesterday. Don't worry," he chuckles, "I had my cook make us fresh food—birds seem to have eaten the last batch, anyway." His gaze lingers on my eyes, gauging my thoughts. "It's sunny outside. I want to sit with you, talk and enjoy the view from this tower."

Still reeling from the mind boggling reaction I'm having to his closeness, I swallow hard. 'What's the worst that can happen' isn't even a question here. I know what can happen. I know what my body, my own treacherous body, wants to happen. But maybe... just maybe... if I spend more casual time in his presence, this assault of hormones will stop.

After all, there's nothing more off-putting than really getting to know the horrible man you're attracted to. Could be just what I need to get over him.

07 What's the worst that can happen?

I let him lead me onto the balcony. Any thoughts get knocked out of me as soon as I lean over the stone wall and stare at the city stretching below us.

I've only spent two weeks here since we arrived, and from up-close it never quite seemed as grand as people tend to describe it. It's big and loud and overcrowded and smelly... But it seems gorgeous from this high above. No wonder Gortash wants to settle up here permanently.

I don't appreciate the thick atmosphere of this place. I miss the clean waters and animal white noise of the picturesque location the nautiloid crashed in. Even the Underdark is breathtaking in its menacing way.

This doesn't feel like home anymore. It's familiar, but I'm a different person.

Much like what I could say about Gortash. The fact that we used to be a thing shouldn't mean that we have to be it again.

I have so many questions it feels like a chunk of anxiety is balled up inside me—I don't even know what to ask specifically, I just know I need a lot of answers. I want to understand what happened between us and how. And how can a man so callous, so cruel to everything else be so gentle and sweet with me.

I have to know what game he's playing. Is he hoping to weaken me? Stab me in the back as soon as I kill Orin and take both the netherstones off my cooling flesh? Was any of what he showed me real?

"Heavy thoughts, Talas?"

I sigh and turn away from the view to see him comfortably sprawled on an actual rug stretched over the stone floor.

"Couldn't get a blankie?" I quip, shaking my head. "Your ass get too soft?"

"Well, since I don't have to live rough anymore, I just don't do it," he chuckles, tapping a spot next to him. "Come have some comfort, too. I imagine you're not used to it anymore, being on the road for so long."

"I think I pretty much forgot what comfort felt like when that Myrkulite bitch of a torturer got a hold of me," I say dryly as I make my way to the picnic. I immediately see the change in his expression and his fists clenching.

I sit down and stretch my legs in front of me. "Do all your Absolute lackeys respect you this much, or was she special?"

"That's still under investigation," he growls darkly. An image of his most loyal soldiers beating information out of the slightly less loyal soldiers crosses my mind. "The nerve on her. The nerve on Ketheric. He should've told me."

"I guess plotting to take over the world doesn't make for the best bonding time," I smirk, picking up a chalice of wine.

"True," he nods, deciding to wash his rage down with some wine as well. "This is not a circle of trust. I even had to kill a number of my own for being too ambitious. Mostly when they tried to assassinate me to take my place. Or get to me through you."

"Hm," I grimace, not ready to believe I was so important to him that he wouldn't sacrifice me in a blink of an eye if it brought him enough reward. "How do you know I won't kill you? Bhaal sounded pretty determined. He'll try again. You might not get so lucky this time."

"He won't. Not until you get rid of Orin."

I raise my eyebrows at him and toss a few grapes in my mouth. "How would you know?"

Gortash pauses, looking away, squinting at the sky.

"Last night I told her what was happening, got her properly pissed off. I promised you would come to her, which is what you want, anyway. She went to talk to him, to convince him she's capable of defeating you. I hoped she had the pull—and it looks like she does, because it worked. Bhaal wants you to ritually combat her at the Temple just a smidge more than he wants me dead—and can always make either of you do it later."

He says it in such a matter-of-fact tone as if he didn't just confess to virtually saving my life. I gape at him mutely, wine forgotten half-way to my lips.

"Well," I chuckle in disbelief, "I'm stunned that you didn't brag about it immediately."

"I knew you would see it as bragging, no matter when I told you," he rolls his eyes, chugging his wine. "So I wasn't going to. Until you asked."

I shrug and nod, admitting that's true. I'm always ready to believe the worst of him. Just in case.

"But you should know." He turns to me, face serious, gaze intense. He takes my hand and squeezes. "When Orin is dead, he will sic you on me. It won't matter what you feel or what your agenda is. This time he'll have no reason to relent, he will have one of us dead."

He sighs and tucks a loose strand of my hair behind my ear with the same tenderness I tasted last night. His eyes are warm and gentle.

"If nothing else works... I will let you kill me," he whispers and my breath catches in my throat. "Which is why I suggest you keep your word and we finish our plan together. If we're successful, we might have enough power to keep him away from us."

I watch his hair flow in the breeze around his face. He lets go of my hands and looks to the sky again, as if the endlessness of it helped him feel like he has more options, more freedom.

"So, at the least, we have until you kill her."

His voice is so heavy, raspy, wistful, I shiver again. He doesn't even suggest that we actually stay together or anything... he's just contemplating the near future, counting down days until he might not see me again. Or live.

"You would just let me kill you?" I ask, suddenly reminded of Halsin's similar question from last night. Gortash brushed it off then and I was too busy trying to survive, but it hits differently now.

I see his throat jump as he gulps. He seems to mull over his answer. Then squeezes his eyes shut.

"I began hatching the Absolute plan for my sake only. I wanted power and control. But then you came..." He flashes me a glance, almost shy. "And things changed. So slowly I didn't even notice at first. But I started to work towards a different goal. I wanted to make this work for us. Make the world the perfect place for us to be happy in. To do whatever we want, to have all the comforts, all the fun."

He pauses for a long time. I'm wracking my brain to try to remember something, anything, so that I could confirm his words, but the memory of him is still as incorporeal as before.

Before I figure out how to react, he speaks up again:

"I didn't know how differently it could end," he rasps and I'm in shock to notice his eyes getting somewhat wet. "How someone could hate me, hate you, so much that they would tear us apart and destroy everything." This time he looks at me steadily, though I can see how much effort it takes him to not let his sight run away again. "I love you, Talas. We were having so much fun I hadn't realized it... until I lost you."

I rapidly blink in utter bewilderment. My heart squeezes hard. I feel tears fighting their way out of my eyes. I can taste bitterness in the back of my throat. As if the only thing I could remember about our past is how heartbreaking it was to be separated from him like this.

And I realize that I believe him. It makes sense. Bhaal's ultimatum revealed one thing: this murder was personal to him. I really must have been in love with Gortash before my disappearance. Enough to make the Lord of Murder feel threatened and want our bond broken.

And I'm beginning to see why—to see past my initial impression of him, past his flaws and sins. It makes me scared. What happens if I give in to it, even if just for a little while?

But just how much time to decide do I really have?

08 Innocence of a guilty man.

Turns out, I don't need much time at all.

Gortash's confession was so raw it's impossible for me to stop thinking about it. He's quiet as we eat our breakfast, and so am I, but my head is buzzing. The alcohol doesn't help hold my walls up, but I don't think being sober would save me now.

'We only have until you kill Orin.'

That could be mere days. We've only just arrived, but already met her more than once—sniffing around, gauging our weaknesses, snickering maniacally and giving us the creeps. If we don't strike first, she will. Not to mention the ticking clock that was the tadpole wriggling in my head, threatening to turn me into a tentacled monster the second the Brain breaks free of Gortash's and Orin's control. We are all screwed if we don't find her soon.

My mind ambushes me with slightly fuzzy memories of last night. The way Gortash washed me, the way he carried me to the bed like royalty, the way he cared. I don't have to run away and marry him in secret to enjoy him. I don't have to make any promises at all.

I can just have him one last time. Whatever happens next.

"Well," I peep, nervous about what I'm going to do, "since we're full, alone and have the time... maybe we can... uhm."

Gods, I'm awful at flirting. I'm so lucky Halsin decided to approach me first. We would still be hungrily circling each other if he hasn't.

To my utter dismay and embarrassment, Gortash laughs out loud. "You haven't improved one bit," he shakes his head.

"Shut up," I grunt, trying to hide in my hair.

He props himself on one elbow, reaching for my jaw, caressing me and pulling me down to him for a kiss.

"Your best line so far was 'I would love to carve you up real slow,'" he smirks, coaxing me to look up. "Fortunately, that worked like a charm on me."

My brow crinkles and I burst into vivacious laughter. It makes me feel better, more at ease. I guess I didn't change that much.

"Gods, it's been forever since the last time I heard that laughter," Gortash sighs, stricken.

He attacks my mouth voraciously, making me gasp into the kiss.

It's different than before. It's not libido that drives him this time. There's pain behind the layers of need. Pain of long separation, of deep grief, of lost hope, of impending death. He's virtually inhaling me, as if he would love nothing more than to blend into me.

I feel dizzy and compelled to return the kiss with the same intensity, even though I'm running out of breath. I don't want to hold back anymore. What good would it do me to fight my feelings when this is the last time I get to have him.

His skin is much smoother after the morning shave, but I can still feel the faint remnants of stubble gently scratching me. I run my fingers all over his face, trying to imprint every shape of him into my damaged brain. I come across the scar on his chin and the sensation feels more familiar than ever. I know I've touched this scar before.

His hand copies my movements, tracing my scars. They must be new to him; Orin left them on me when she tried to kill me. He remembers my face when it was still flawless, yet his fingers are feeling my new imperfections with reverence.

"Bleed that bitch slowly," he rasps against my skin. "Savor the kill. You deserve a sweet revenge for this."

"I wish I could do the same to Bhaal," I reply breathily.

"So do I, my love. So do I." He pulls away a little, skin flushed, eyes misty. "Let's go inside. It's chilly here, you might catch a cold."

I squeeze my eyes shut, half wanting to laugh, half crying. I feel him get onto his feet and the next thing I know I'm in his arms, carried like a princess once more. I hug his shoulders and hide in his neck, nibbling hungrily, making his breath catch as he's walking towards his study, gait a bit wobbly.

My legs are weak too—I nearly buckle as he puts me down by the bed. I steady myself holding onto him, while he's doing his best to keep my armor and clothes intact as he's pulling them off my body in ragged, desperate moves.

He pauses with his hands hovering over my offered gauntlet.

"What?" I wonder. "Think you won't be able to enjoy it without me hurting you?"

He tilts his head, squinting in the distance. "I don't think we've ever tried that."

"Just take it off," I say and put his fingers on my wrist. "If it's not enough, I can always use my nails."

"To be honest," he raises his eyebrows pensively, "I don't think I even care. I just want to be with you."

He shakes the metal off my hand and tosses it to the floor. Then his eyes find his own, with the glowing netherstone adorning it.

"I promise I won't steal it," I chuckle. "At least not until I have Orin's."

He doesn't seem to appreciate my teasing. He takes the gauntlet off, but quickly puts it in a small, sturdy looking metal box and locks it inside.

I roll my eyes. "Still don't trust me, Enver? Did I use to fuck people just to get their precious stuff and favors? I thought that was more your style."

"Just a precaution against whomever else might be sneaking through the tower," Gortash smirks and returns to me. "You weren't even interested in fucking until you met me," he touches my face. "Granted, you didn't have many eligible choices around you, with your father keeping you in dark tombs among abominations. But I taught you everything, little lover."

My breath hitches a little at the realization, but I gulp the shock down.

"Well, then I guess I'm glad you've been sleeping around with so many of your noble conquests. Would hate to be taught by someone inexperienced."

He laughs with his eyes shut, then sighs and pulls me into his embrace.

"Oh, Talas, don't be jealous. There's no need to drag nobles into my bed anymore. I did try to drown my grief in a few... but it never helped. You were my first in months."

I blink at him, stunned by his words yet again. "Explains why you looked like you hadn't bathed in weeks at your inauguration." I swallow hard, distressingly aware of his enticing scent now.

"I've let myself go a little, yeah," he admits with an amused grin. "My company didn't mind. I thought Ketheric smelled like death, but then I met Orin." I snort and he joins me. "That faint stench of rotting flesh makes me want to gag. You, though..."

He buries his nose in the crook of my neck, pulling off his clothes. "You." He inhales a lungful of me, groaning. I shiver, closing my eyes, running my fingers through his hair. "The sweetest thing I've ever tasted."

I yelp as he suddenly picks me up and lets us both collapse onto the bed. Our limbs tangle, skin grazing skin, our mouths lock in a thirsty dance of tongues. It's a strange feeling, like being with him for the first time, even though it's far from it. I'm not fighting him, not resisting unwelcome desires, not trying to pretend this isn't what I want... I give myself to him willingly and eagerly.

09 Your fingerprints all over me.

He pulls us higher and flips us over, so he could lean on the head of the frame with me on top. The unexpected exposure makes me flinch. I'm still getting used to showing all of myself even to Halsin, and this... I haven't had time to decide how to feel about it. But the way he watches me makes me shudder. His gaze worships every inch of me, his fingers following closely after. So I lean into his touch and close my eyes, letting my mind rest in the soft waves of pleasure.

"How are you even more breathtaking than before," Gortash whispers so quietly I'm not sure he even meant to be heard.

I look down at him, using the rapidly depleting brain capacity to study his face some more. I didn't think he was capable of such adoration. I'm trying to hold onto my healthy doubts for the sake of everyone who's put their trust in me, but it's getting truly difficult.

So I choose to focus on the rest of him instead. On how he makes me feel.

I let my hands wander over his body, enjoying the inexplicable electric sensation of touching his deliciously mocha skin. Making him shiver as I run through the fine hair on his chest he so likes to show off. His muscles are defined just the right amount, well hydrated and comfortably soft. The little love handle on his tummy makes my mouth water and my hips grind against him wantonly.

He groans and grabs me by the nape to pull me into a ravaging kiss. I lift off his lap just enough to help him slip inside me. I cry out softly, unable to hold back the sweet tears of ecstasy.

My needy mouth devours him. He holds my hip in a firm grip to help me ride him. The fingers of his free hand dig into my back, desperately pressing me to his chest, but the hurt they cause isn't physical. I don't want to look into his eyes, I know they will bewitch me.

But I fail and let his gaze swallow my soul.

I can't focus on kissing him anymore. I just lay my forehead on his shoulder and keep rolling my hips. I feel the crushing orgasm closing in when he rakes my hair and starts murmuring in my ear:

"I love you, Talas. I love you."

I let out a sob as it hits me like a wall. I'm not screaming or moaning—I'm crying. My heart is breaking, my soul is splitting... Yet, in the midst of my torment, there's mind boggling ecstasy shooting through my body like lightning.

He caresses my back, letting me ride out the last of the tremors, while I latch onto his mouth again, mixing his intoxicating taste with the salt of my tears. He doesn't seem bothered, drinking my inexplicable sorrow eagerly, thirstily.

I collapse onto his warm chest and keep softly sobbing into his flesh.

I remember now.

"Are you alright?"

I don't respond for a long while. I just keep slowly rolling my hips, not letting him stop making love to me. He listens to my intentional body language, running his fingers gently all over my skin, and lets me deal with it in peace before I'm ready to speak up.

"I love you too, Enver."

The leftover reason in my brain gags its mouth in horror. But I know that it's true. It's been true the whole time, I just didn't know, being stripped of all my memories of him.

The memories didn't return per se. Only feelings. I was a drooling mess, and still my heart yearned for something I lost. Someone I lost. I doubt I could even recall his name or his face... but I knew I needed him.

"Please," I sniffle, finally dragging myself up to look at him. "Make me forget how I know this. It hurts."

That strange sucking feeling in the center of my chest suddenly makes sense now. I've had it since the crash. My head was empty, but my heart ached for him.

"Talas," he whispers, cradling my head. I watch his eyes well up like mine.

I kiss him, letting him tangle his fingers in my hair. He presses my face closer to his and drowns in my mouth. When we're out of breath, he leaves my lips to travel up to my cheeks and eyes, kissing away every tear.

He wraps me in his arms and smoothly rolls us over, pressing my back into the red satin sheets. He holds my hands above my head and I expect him to get rough—I wouldn't mind having this gnawing emotional anguish knocked out of me with a delicious pounding I know he's keen to inflict.

But his fingers lace with mine and his eyes watch me with tenderness I didn't think he was capable of. He's not done fighting for me.

And I'm not done being loved by him.

I hold his gaze, studying the specs of color in his irises. I let out soft moans as he languidly moves inside me and kisses my mouth without breaking eye contact. And when my body begins buzzing, building up to another mind-shattering climax, I whisper his name. The first one slips from my lips accidentally, but as my mind clouds I get bolder. When my body spasms and my toes curl, I scream it over and over in between waves of ecstasy.

His gaze never wavers—up until his own finish catches him unprepared, drawing a surprised, tender whimper out of him. His body quivers, uncontrollably shooting hot seed inside of me as he holds me close, encasing me in his arms like something fragile and precious, moaning my name into my ear.

Mind blank, I just lay, limbs wrapped around him, not willing to let go. We stay like this, gently caressing each other, panting, cooling off. It's not until we start getting uncomfortable that we're finally forced to let go.

"How would you feel about having a bath together again?" Gortash suggests, his roguish smirk gracing his lips once more.

I'm all sweaty and sticky and full of his load, so I nod.

I don't want to leave just yet. Going back into the real world means being faced with responsibilities and morality. It means remembering what a menace this man is to the city. It means considering losing him forever if he decides to stand in our way. I'm not ready for that. Not after I had an emotional charge the size of an extinction-level catastrophic event go off in my chest just minutes ago.

10 One last chance.

Gortash fills the tub with hot water and takes me by the hand. But it seems like I'm not quite ready for this, either.

Come on. It's just a bathtub. The only place that's actually filled with horrors is your own head.

And I recall all the tenderness and care that happened around it, as well. Two diametrically different men doting on me, sacrificing their strength and favors for me. The thought further eats away at the walls of my poor heart.

"Need some help?" Gortash glances at me, evidently understanding my hesitation. His arm snakes around my waist and he kisses my temple. "Come on. I'll be in there with you. Promise not to tie you up this time—unless you want me to," he chuckles into my hair.

I snort and relax a little. There was really nothing to be afraid of; Bhaal was taken care of for now, there was no reason for my Urge to come out this soon. But my legs won't work.

"Yeah, I do need help," I sigh, draping myself over his shoulders.

He tosses me a wicked grin and picks me up. "You're getting used to this fast."

"It's a nice thing to get used to," I shrug innocently.

"You know you got heavy?"

"Maybe you got out of shape," I narrow my eyes at him, then we both laugh.

I almost don't notice how he submerges both of us in the pleasantly hot water. My heart thrums in my throat for a bit, but then Gortash starts rubbing my neck and shoulders, massaging the tension out of them. I let him do it for a while, then close my eyes and lay my head in the crook of his neck.

"Thanks for saving my life last night," I mumble and I really mean it. "I was ready to beg Halsin to mercifully end me. Wait, no, I did actually beg."

I feel his palm run along the side of my face, then his fingers combing my hair back in soothing motions. "It's the least I could do after putting you in danger. I'm so sorry, Talas."

"It wasn't your fault," I sigh. I know what he means, but... when two people fall in love, neither of them should be held responsible for the disproportional reaction of their relatives.

"I still can't believe how close you were this whole time," he rasps and I his hands ball into fists. "Bloody Ketheric. What a low, petty revenge for making him feel uncomfortable and redundant during our Absolute meetings."

I snort. "How were we getting on his nerves so much?"

I feel his chuckle reverberate into me through my back. "You used to like sitting on my lap and making out while he was speaking. And whenever you spaced out during discussions, or simply didn't have an opinion, you would always back me up, not even listening to his arguments."

"Oh," I grimace. "We were very dismissive of him. I'm not surprised he felt affronted."

"Oh, Talas." I hear exasperation in his voice. "He kept you in his dungeon as a toy for his deranged 'scientist' and let me believe you were dead. He deserved to get his tongue ripped out and be beaten to death with it. Would you really just forgive him?"

"I'm kidding," I turn to him, eyes still closed, and plant a kiss on his chin. "I hate his fucking guts. I'm just sad I wasn't able to make his death proper fun."

"There she is, my Bhaal-babe."

"We've met all of his children," I growl. "All cursed and deranged, almost begging to be put out of their misery. The man couldn't give two fucks about any of them, beside precious Isobel he raised from the dead in exchange for their lives, with thousands of innocent souls on top. He didn't deserve redemption and he knew it."

There's a long pause and I can feel Gortash tensing up.

"Do I?"

That knocks the breath out of my lungs. My eyes open wide, but I only stare into the distance.

Why would he even ask that? He didn't seem remorseful of his many, many sins. He looked straight in Karlach's face and looked pleased with himself. He tadpoled Wyll's father and shipped him who-knows-where the minute he got him to surrender his title. He subjugated a whole city and prepared to wage a fake war on it, just so he could pronounce himself its savior.

And those were only the deeds we knew about so far.

"Do you think you deserve it?" I deflect the question back at him, unsure how to respond. Suddenly I'm aware of how naked and defenseless I am in his presence again.

"Shh," he rubs my arms, noticing my discomfort. "I didn't mean to make you bristle up. In the end, Ketheric was left with no one who supported him out of their own free will. I know how depressing that is—I was in the same position before you returned. There's a big difference between doing things because you know you're alone against the world, and doing things for someone you love."

I scoff. "Well, if that's how you operate, how about you give me the stone and help me clean up this mess? Because that's the only way this," I gesture between him and myself, "is going anywhere. You know that what we just did doesn't really change anything between us, right?"

I can see the hurt in his eyes—but no surprise. He knows. He's just probing for another option. Or trying to manipulate me. Whichever.

He decides to abandon the topic. "We've never done it like this before," he studies my face. "You changed so much."

"Enver," I sigh, feeling almost bad for him. "How do you still want me back, when I'm not even the woman you remember?"

Silence. He evades my gaze, watching the sunlight behind the tall stained glass windows. He doesn't seem to understand it himself.

"I guess you've given my life more meaning than anything I've ever done before."

My heart and eyelids flutter, touched more deeply than I was willing to admit.

I know what that feels like. I could've let my Urge dictate my path, succumb to the thirst for blood and death, do what I knew to do best. Instead, I've found myself in people around me, people of varying degrees of 'good' who sometimes struggle as much as I do.

I've found purpose in keeping them alive. In helping them denounce their gods, avenge their traumas, fix their mistakes, save what's important to them. In loving them as much as they've grown to love me. They healed me in ways medicine and magic could never have done on their own.

They saved me, and now I would rather choose death than let a bloodthirsty god take control over my life again.

Perhaps Gortash would do the same...?

I don't dare to guess. Not until I see the change with my own eyes, in action, when I present the choice to him with Orin's netherstone in hand.

Because I've just decided that I will do just that. Despite everything he's done, everything that deserved grave, and likely final, punishment, I will allow him one last chance to do better.

Thank you for reading ♥

Remember, if you liked the story and want to support me as a writer, » please REBLOG «. We share our work with you for free.

Likes don't mean anything if this baby doesn't find its next thirsty reader. This is not Twitter/Insta, no algorithm is going to help me.

Also please consider leaving a kudo on AO3 even if you read here, it will be deeply appreciated (there's also more context in form of author's notes).

I welcome comments and discussion on this topic!

Constructive criticism is not unwelcome, I'm not a native English speaker, so if something sounds strange to you, I'd like to know ♥

I was just on my way to tag when both of my lovely moots already read and reblogged xD. Anyway, thanks for being here for this, guys! ♥ @thoughts-of-bear @starfleetwithhorns

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snobgoblin · 2 months

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I have just been extremely chatty lately so anyway yapping to a character prompt part 3

1. How do they celebrate their birthday?

he usually just treats himself by shopping at red street. he would invite people but he doesn't really have friends

2. Who is the most important person in their life?

himself if I'm honest but whatever partner he may get definitely becomes the most important person to him

3. What to they wear when they're just at home hanging out?

it swings wildly between "he wears the most expensive outfit he owns just for funsies" and "he wears basically nothing because of texture issues"

4. What is their house like?

you've seen the shop! it's that. with a cozy upstairs with lots of pillows. very Howl's Moving Castle esque decor going on in there too

5. Any pets?

eventually Faunus, yeah! he tries very unsuccessfully to lure pigeons and stuff to him with pumpkin bread. he's definitely an animal lover and tries to pet anything

6. What will always make them smile?

things that bring him comfort. warm bread, little trinkets, and eventually, his friends

7. What will always make them cry?

if you ever make him feel like you don't like him he will get mad and then cry about it later

8. What's their favorite movie (presuming they life in a world with movies, if not, what would be their favorite movie)?

I watch the same 5 movies on loop so I'm not sure 😭 I'll say he's a ghibli kind of guy

9. Favorite book?

erm I don't read so idk but he loves reading up on mythology and magic and things like that

10. Do they get along with their parents?

despite feeling hurt by Mercurio they're definitely close. that's the reason WHY he's so mad at his dad for leaving- he loves being around him. his relationship with his mom is negative but nearly nonexistent, they hardly see each other

11. If you could put them into a different fictional universe, where would they go?

in my universe GET OVER HERE (I have fallen in love with him)

12. Favorite holiday?

he freaking loves the Winter Solstice bro, like he hates the cold but he loves the closeness that comes with it and the over the top decorations

13. Tattoos?

nope!

14. What was their first kiss like?

awkward 😭 but passionate. buddy tried his best but he is painfully socially awkward

15. Have they ever lost somebody they loved?

yes, his aunt Capra. it destroyed him

16. They find a genie and are granted three wishes, what do they wish for, and why?

1) he wishes for someone to be obsessed with him. he is extremely lonely and feels so much love that has nowhere to go, and his heart is so empty he needs something to fill it. 2) he would probably want his aunt back and 3) he wishes to be rich for personal reasons but also so his dad will quit his job and stay home with him (that's not how that works 😭 he loves what he does)

17. They're stranded on an island and can only have 4 items and one companion, who and what do they bring?

he brings Asra and doesn't have to worry about the other 4 items because Asra will portal through the water and get them to safety. er cheeky answer erm Asra brings a wand, a cup, a sword, and a pentacle

18. What's a quote (not from their universe), that you associate them with?

I had to google "quotes" to get this 💀 I think this one's fitting "be so good they can't ignore you" -Steve Martin

19. Any romantic interests?

too many

20. What kind of accent do they have?

it's hard to say because they would all be speaking a language I do not speak. (of course the devs say they're all fantasy languages but we can assume they would at least be similar to real life areas and languages) he would sound like a native Italian speaker for sure, where Nadia, Julian, and Lucio, might not

21. What is their most prized possession?

he has a couple... his rings are probably up there. he never takes them off

22. Have they ever stolen anything?

only a body!

#apprentice danny

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gmxrk · 9 months

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the taste of salt [part 3 of 3]

Miguel x female reader

Summary: Miguel want's you to be part of the spicer society. He's even inviting you for dinner to convince you.

Tags: romantic, smut

Warnings: foodplay (i guess),my first smut, semi public sex, not beta read

The smut has arrived!

Night lights passed you by, the breeze cooling your cheeks, drying the tears in the corners of your eyes. You heard the echo of his voice before you stretched a web and maneuvered yourself back into the air.

Your name.

He had never called you by your name before.

Oh, swinging through the air felt so good. Something you always did to clear the fog in your mind. But today it wasn’t your city, not even your dimension. Yet so strangely familiar, as if you had visited it in your dreams.

Or fantasies.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you saw a sinister red glow, the rest of his features obscured by the cloak of night. He wasn’t lying, he actually was able to jump into his suit with the push of a button. An unfair advantage, since you didn’t wear yours.

And was he gliding through the air like a bat, spinning his webs like a cape? You didn’t even know he could do that.

But he was not the only one in his element. Nueva York's vastness appealed to you, giving you the opportunity to perform extended jumps, spinning in the air and using the momentum to catapult yourself further and further forward. Your webs were long and flexible, allowing you to swing and spin with ease. And although your movements looked effortless, they required perfect timing and control.

Warm summer air left a sonorous shiver in your ears, soft and steady, a soundless melody. It only existed in your head.

As you turned in the air, your eyes caught each other. He was wearing the suit without the mask, and his eyes were on fire. The distance between you narrowed rapidly, although you did your best to maintain it. Still, he was faster than you.

And you knew that very well.

Still, your little game went on for a while as you swung through the area. Lights merged into a swirl of colors, reminding you of the portals you had used to travel between the worlds.

Despite his massive build, he was graceful and light on his feet, moving with powerful grace. You couldn’t help but look at him, enjoying his skillful stunts. Your movements flowed into each other, creating a symphony that harmonized yet contradicted itself. At times, you were on par before he fell behind you, only to catch up shortly after. Sometimes you dodged him, sometimes you let him touch you. Just briefly, but long enough to feel the desire between you.

Finally, as a wave of courage overcame you, you maneuvered around him in a fluid, spiraling motion, intertwining your webs. So close that the tips of your noses touched. Your lips fluttered briefly over his and his eyes closed promisingly.

But the kiss never came. You used the moment to swing around the corner of the nearest building, and sure enough, he lost sight of you, landing on one of the rooftops below with a frustrated growl.

A growl that send a sharp jolt between your legs.

»Qué descarado.«

His voice was not one of frustration but of an undercurrent of hot impatience that quickened your heartbeat. Your little chase has left you quite breathless and with a strange feeling of crave. You stuck to the wall above him, slowly beginning to climb your way up without making a noise. But tiny little pieces of the façade came loose and fell to the ground, a tinkling sound softer than raindrops, but enough to immediately draw his attention to you. »Hey!«

»Shoot!« A nervous laughter made its way out of your chest as you used your webs to speed up your ascent. The scrape of sharp claws digging into the masonry below you.

Damn.

His claws.

You hadn’t thought about his claws.

»You’re fun, you know that?« His voice low and sultry, and his restraint clearly at its end. Where he had been almost cautious before, he now came at you with bestial force, and for a brief moment, the tickling sensation of fear ate through your anticipation. Miguel's powers were fierce, making you glad you weren’t his enemy.

Glad about it being just a game.

Nevertheless, you still tried to escape, but your webs thinned out with every shot until they failed completely. You had to climb the last few meters barehanded, and once you reached the top, you found yourself at a dead end. Not a very wide building, more like a vantage point high above the city. Without any more webs, there was nowhere left to go. Climbing down wasn’t an option either, as he had the advantage of speed and would easily catch you.

So you just ... stayed where you were, letting him win. This time.

It only took him a few seconds to arrive at the top, but he took his sweet time getting up and turning to you.

»Got you.«

Without saying a word, you stared at him, wiping the sweat from your brow. He, on the other hand, didn’t even seem out of breath, but his eyes sparkled. He wouldn’t let you escape again.

Like that's what you wanted.

Suddenly, you felt a surge of emotions that you didn’t quite understand. Was it desire? Love? You couldn’t tell but whatever it was, it left you with a strange sense of longing.

»... Got me.«

Without a warning, you threw yourself at him, laughing, while wrapping your arms around his sinfully narrow waist. The sudden impact knocked the air from his lungs, and the world spun as you fell headfirst into the depths.

His hands grabbed your shoulders as your lips finally met, but only for two seconds before you jerked to a halt again. His claws had dug into the wall, stopping your fall. The momentum sent you crashing into the building and he followed suit, pressing himself against you.

Your teeth clashed as he kissed you without restraint now, tasting of butter, wine and greed. You clung to his arms, just like in your fantasies, bringing yourself to ecstasy just thinking about that.

The faint taste of blood flooded your mouths as your tongue stroked one of his fangs. »Shh, careful.« He broke away from you, unable to hold back a deep moan. His forehead pressed against yours as he looked into your eyes.

»May I touch you?«

Oh wow, his voice was dripping with need. Feverishly, his tongue ran down your neck, catching your sweat. Your fingers clawed into his hair, pulling at it. »I won’t until you let me.«

»Fuck.« You couldn't bring yourself to say more, so you grabbed his free hand and eagerly guided it to your body, no less needy than he was. He responded immediately by sliding his hips underneath you, allowing your legs to wrap around him. His large hands slipped under your top, stroking your velvety skin.

You couldn't stop yourself from rubbing against one of his muscular thighs, thirsty for sweet friction. He didn't miss it, of course. Invitingly, he pressed his knee more firmly between your thighs as his hand cupped your breast. »Your sweet little sigh earlier at dinner -« his hot, moist breath caressed your ear. »I want to hear it again.«

You felt how his words soaked your underwear. You couldn't believe this was happening. Only he could manage to turn you into a mess with just by using simple words, but before you could savor it any further, he broke away from you again.

»What-«

Without answering, he grabbed you by the waist, threwing you over his shoulder without any effort. »Let's take this somewhere else.« His voice made you shudder.

He began his descent, his grip on you strong and secure. You didn’t resist, even though you were pretty capable of climbing down on your own. But you liked the way he could just carry you around like a toy.

»Look where we are again.«

Your journey had taken you back to the outdoor area of the restaurant. You giggled in surprise as he released you from his grip. Miguel had removed his shirt before chasing after you, and now it was waiting for him, neatly folded on one of the benches. This place took customer service very seriously. Even your dessert was still there, albeit a little sunken now. You licked your lips. What a shame to let it go to waste, wasn't it?

You turned to him, a playful smile on your lips. »You wouldn't mind if I finished my dessert now, would you?« Of course you would hurry, you didn't want to keep him waiting too long.

»Whatever you like, Cielo.«

He followed you to the table without breaking physical contact, standing close behind you. You took the plate in one hand, but before you could reach for the fork, he had already picked it up. »Let me help you.«

His free hand ran over the crook of your neck as he cut a neat slice of cake, bringing it to your lips. »Open.«

His voice, like salted caramel, brooked no argument.

»I can eat by myself,« you tried anyway.

»I know. You demonstrated that... perfectly.« His other hand slowly moved over your shoulder and down your arm. His lips at your ear. »I want to savor it again.«

There was no one else up here.

A shiver ran down your spine. Oh, he was really teasing you now. Not that you minded. You opened your lips willingly, allowing him to guide the fork to your mouth. His hand caressed your stomach, teasingly tugging at the waistband of your leggings. Your knees went weak, but you stood still, trying not to show it.

»Tasty?«

The cake melted in your mouth, but all you could focus on was his hand snapping your belt open with skillful ease. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. A traitorous gasp coursed up your throat.

He breathed in and out deeply, inhaling your scent. »Answer enough. You want more?«

Your tongue moistened your lips before you nodded and opened your mouth again. »Yes...«

»De nada.« A second bite followed and the process repeated itself with agonizing slowness. With each successive bit, his hand moved further down to the heat between your legs, until finally, halfway through the cake, it slipped under your panties.

He gasped softly as he stroked your slippery core, spreading the dripping honey even more. Whimpering, you clung to his neck. He hummed triumphantly.

»Delicious indeed.«

His voice almost made you swoon.

»You want a taste?« You asked with playful innocence.

His index finger slowly began to circle around your little bundle of nerves. You had to clench your teeth to keep yourself from making a sound.

»Not from the cake.«

Thank God there was no one else up there.

He took the plate from your hand, setting it back on the table. Your fingers clawed into the tabletop as he pressed against you from behind, hand back underneath your top, his bulging arousal in the small of your back. »I wan’t to make you feel good, Cielo.«

»Fuck...« It was hard to resist the urge to rub yourself against him. You turned your head to seal your lips once more. He immediately reciprocated with hungry passion, tilting his head to give you both better access as your fingers found their way back into his thick hair. Gosh, you loved pulling at it, making him growl. He responded by biting your lower lip, sucking it into his hot mouth.

His fingers, however, continued to circle oh so gently around you without actually dipping in. It was both frustrating and stimulating. Impatiently, you pushed your hips forward, wordlessly granting him access, but he didn't do you this favor. On the contrary, he stopped his movement, a smug smile tangible on his lips.

»Fuck! Miguel -«

Your voice broke in sweet despair, but you didn’t beg. You wouldn’t.

And there was no need, because the temptation was apparently too great even for him. He seemed to be taking far too much pleasure from this, resuming his caress and eliciting a relieved sigh from you. Unfortunately, just after a few seconds, he pulled his hand back and turned you to face him. You couldn't help but whimper at the loss of contact, and he seemed to understand. »Let's get out of here.«

Oh, true. You totally forgot where you were. That you could be caught at any time. He probably had just wanted to grab his stuff from here before you decided to enjoy your dessert.

Maybe you deserved to be teased by him.

He leaned over you, put your arms around his neck, and lifted you up.

»Cielo, let me take you to my place.«

His voice so low and dark. Nodding was all you managed as an answer, but that seemed enough for him.

You didn't make it to his apartment.

Lights from moving cars passed you by. Pink and blue flood amidst the fog, barely visible through the lowered blinds on the steamy windows. You hadn't even gone a kilometer before he turned the car into a dark, deserted alley.

Now you lay on your back on the rear-facing car seat, his head between your twitching thighs, and two of his thick, long fingers buried deep inside you.

He had removed only the bare minimum of clothes to gain access to you: Your leggings were pulled down and the corner of your lingerie pushed aside.

He was a connoisseur, and he was showing it now. Whether it was his free hand caressing every part of your body it could reach, or his arm wrapped around your waist like a vice, lovingly forcing you to endure the overstimulation over and over again, or his fingers finally intertwining with yours, silently revealing how much he loved doing all this to you. How much he loved making you feel good.

He was strong. Much stronger than you.

His gaze glowed beneath the sweaty strands of hair hanging in his face, his eyes resting long and heavy on you, inhaling every twitching facial muscle as he drank in your moans.

It wasn’t about him. Not yet.

His fingers curled and drove beads of sweat on your forehead, hitting that one spot again and again, conjuring stars behind your closed eyes. His tongue circulating around your swollen, oversensitive clit and your juices wetting his lips.

He savored your pleasure.

Because he knew that’s what you wanted. At the same time, you were sure that one single word would be enough to stop him.

But this word was not spoken. Instead, a throaty gasp as your walls tightened around him once more.

»Oh god.«

Your moans made him curse, and his voice sent you writhing, an endless circle of pleasure and delight.

But both of you were not yet fulfilled.

He let go of you to finally free you from your clothes, his hands making short work of your leggings and underwear. As he bent backward, his lips traveled along your leg, from ankle to thigh, causing you to twitch delicately. Your giggles turned into a gasp when he wrapped his lips around your folds again, soaking up your scent and flavor. You squeezed your thighs reflexively, and one of your hands moved back into his hair, pressing his head even closer to you. Oh, you wanted his tongue to fill you completely, and he was more than happy to oblige.

You could hear his stifled groan as you trapped him between your legs.

It was too much and not enough at the same time.

»Mi ambrosía dulce«, he emerged again, his tongue making its way over your belly to your nipple while freeing you from your top, before he finally arrived at your lips. »I could do this all night.«

Your tongues entwined like your webs before, and he gave you a taste of your own salt.

Addictive.

Your hands tugged impatiently at his clothes. How unfair to be the only one naked. You wanted to taste the steam of his skin, to combine his heat with yours. He didn’t resist and pulled you onto his lap once you had undressed him completely, wrapping his arms around you again. He had made his suit disappear on its own.

»You’re gorgeous.«

His breath touched your ear, and you shivered, unable to deny how much his words affected you. Your hand wandered from his rock-hard, muscular chest over his happy trail until it finally brushed his immense arousal. He was so big that your fingers barely managed to wrap around him.

He hummed as he felt your touch, your fingers encircling him, and your thumb spreading hot precum over his sensitive tip.

»Oh yes, that’s it...« His rough voice filled with deep desire. It sent a shock all the way into your toes.

You wanted to get back at him.

For all the nice things he had done to you.

Without a warning, you leaned down, swirling your tongue around his tip, catching his aroma. You heard him hiss, clearly surprised, and felt his big hands digging into your hair.

»Fuck!«

Your hand slid up and down, wet with his lust and your saliva, while your lips wrapped around him. He was far too big for you to take him in completely, and yet you tried your best.

»Hey, fuck - slow down, slow down...« His voice sounded like he wanted quite the opposite, but he didn’t move, letting you set the pace. As a reward, you moaned around his cock, and the vibration made him tremble. How erotic to hear him like that. The desperate sound of his usually calm voice sent hot waves down the center of your body. God, how you wished you could see his face right now.

It only spurred you on even more.

But just as you finally managed to take him deeper, he stopped you. His hands grabbed your face as he slowly released you and pulled you towards him, licking the thick saliva from your chin and lips.

The sudden interruption made you gasp in frustration, but he didn’t give you much time for disappointment. His hand cupped your breast, his tongue swirling around your nipple as he positioned himself so you could sit on his lap again, the pulse of his length between your legs.

His car was as big as your bedroom.

»Fuck, I-,« was all you were able to say, your head too clouded with lust. You looked deep into his red glimmering eyes, almost pleadingly. No words were needed to express your wish as you rolled your hips against him, that tender friction sweeter than the finest dessert.

His fingers brushed your cheek. »You sure?«

»Gosh, of course!«

The despair in your voice surely was music to his ears. Another teasing laugh from the depths of his chest. He kissed you tenderly, his hand still on your cheek. »Don’t worry,« he said now, while he moistened his fingers with a lot of saliva, inserting them to stretch you once more. Not that it was necessary, since you were still so wet for him. »You set the rhythm.«

Warmth flooded your chest. It was almost cheesy how much consideration he showed for you. Still, you were nervous about his size, and he sensed your concern, his hands stroking up and down your shoulders in a reassuring way.

It took you a few more breaths before you felt ready to lower yourself onto him. To your astonishment, he glided into you without much effort, making you gasp in delight. His long preparation worked so well that you literally sucked him in.

He grabbed the back of your neck, no less surprised, his chest vibrating with a deep rumble. Your own moan was unrestrained and almost obscene, but neither of you cared. You clutched his shoulders, waiting for a pain that didn’t come. There was only the delicious stretch as he slowly filled you, your walls so tight around him that you could feel every single vein of his.

He cursed in Spanish, softly and unintelligibly, before kissing you again, so hard your teeth clashed. »Fuck.« Hearing Miguel gasp your name made you clench around him. He couldn’t help but move, slowly, his body shaking with restraint.

Too slow.

You didn’t want him to hold back.

»Harder-« Your voice already hoarse, fingers tangled in his sweaty hair. You wanted him to lose control, to see him in ecstasy, to hear his senses leaving him until only one thought was left: You.

He said you would set the rhythm, so you picked it up. He quickly understood and adjusted to it. And it didn’t take long to make him snap. To grab your hips and thrust into you without restraint. Instinctively, you lifted your hip to grant him more access, and your lips once again sealed in a sloppy kiss, spreading saliva all over your chins.

Each thrust knocked the air from your lungs, your nails deep in his shoulders as you moaned his name while he wildly and uninhibitedly took all of you. His movements send ripples through your whole body, foaming back into your core. It was almost too much.

But never enough.

The air in the car was filled with the moist sounds of your wet, hot bodies colliding, frantic breaths and harsh moans, and the tangy aroma of butter and sweat.

»You don’t know-« his frantic voice caressed your ear, husky and full of passion, »-how many times I fantasized about you.«

How shamelessly honest he became in the grip of intoxication.

But you felt the same. »Me too, me too, fuck, I wanted this so fucking much-« Cleary, you were a mess, but you couldn’t stop yourself from spilling the truth so excessively. You didn’t care how embarrassing you might sounded.

A strangled, excited laugh escaped his throat, and he grabbed your chin, pushing his tongue between your lips. You felt him swell inside you even more, filling you with a tingling heat that radiated all the way to your curling toes.

Even your wildest bedroom fantasies couldn’t keep up with reality. If you had known where this was going, you would have surrendered to him much, much sooner.

Your voice, full of pleasure, spurred him on even more. He pushed you onto your back, supporting himself with one arm next to your head, while his other hand found its way back to your bundle of nerves. And, wow, in addition, his cock hit that one very special spot deep inside you, leaving you almost in tears. This angle was something else. Your teeth dug into the crook of his neck while his thumb caressed that sensitive spot again, and you couldn't hold on any longer. He smothered your scream with his lips as the climax swept over you like a storm, rushing through your body and leaving you shivering. You took him with you. For a brief moment, his thrusts became uncontrolled, his hips wildly slamming against yours, before he spilled into you with a few long, hard movements. You felt him twitching deep inside, his hot seed filling you - and the screech of leather beneath. He had lost control over his claws, which were now tearing through the seat of the car, but when his hands found your face and cupped your cheeks, they were already gone again.

Only your ragged breaths interrupted the silence. You just looked at him, savoring the moment.

»... Is everything okay, Cielo?«

Slightly aching, you wrapped your arms around him and pulled his entire weight onto you. Now that you were slowly coming down from your high, you longed for his warmth. He came towards you willingly, joining your lips gently while he was still inside you. Your walls still clenched now and then, causing him to sigh softly. But eventually he slowly withdrew from you, leaving you with a sad feeling of emptiness.

Neither of you said anything. You’d already spilled too much anyway, but you didn’t regret it.

He bent to the side, fumbling for something, until he sat up again, a bottle of water in his hand. It was only then that you noticed how dry your mouth was. He opened the cap and handed it to you. You drank greedily in large gulps, but saved half of it for him, which he downed immediately.

Reality slowly seeped back into your consciousness. Cars roared past you. Colored lights flickered through the misty car windows. Shivering, you slipped into your top and leggings while he squeezed himself back into his clothes as well.

»... What now?« You broke the silence.

A sigh. He pondered for a moment, seemingly unsure what to make of the situation. »I can take you home.«

Wow, he didn’t even look at you. Disappointment coursed through your veins.

Did you want to go home?

His words from earlier came back to you. How he'd said that he wouldn’t lose interest in you. That he was drawn to you, and yet you were suddenly insecure again. Perhaps you had expected something other than to be sent home after this sensual encounter.

You didn’t want to go home.

But you nodded anyway, admitting defeat.

»Or ...«, suddenly his hand clasped yours. »You stay at my place.« A kiss on your palm and those cute little wrinkles in the corners of his eyes. »Which I'd prefer a lot more.«

Hopefully, your relief wasn't obvious when you nodded in agreement. »I had the same idea. No lectures tomorrow, so I've got a day off.«

He climbed back into the driver's side of the car and pushed a button to return your seat to its original position. You almost felt a little guilty as you took a quick look at the ruined leather. Almost.

»Good for you, but Anomalies never sleep. So I'll be busy.« He started the car, steering it back onto the road. »You could give me a hand, though.«

Oh right, the elephant in the room. Nervously, you scratched your temple.

»You still want me to join the Spider Society, don't you?«

»Correct.« A nod, almost business-like now. Kinda cute. When you didn't answer, he looked at you from the corner of his eyes. »...So?«

You didn't have to think too long. Your answer couldn't have been clearer.

»Hell, no.«

He grinned. »As expected.«

»Are you upset?«

»No.« He took one hand off the wheel and intertwined your fingers again. »Rather motivated to show you many more restaurants.«

A wink, almost mocking.

»And other cars.«

You bit your lip, your lower body tightening in anticipation.

»... Can't wait.«

_______________________________

Thank you so much for reading! I wanna write more Miguel stuff. If you liked my story, feel free to send a promt via ask!

#atsv miguel #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel ohara #miguel x reader #miguel x you #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 smut #across the spiderverse

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