#Wiping the tears away Hob continues to watch the horizon.

[delta-pavonis]

OKAY. OKAY.

HEAR ME OUT.

Hellknight!Hob wearing this. Chest hair and tiddies out, full happy trail, all of it...

Of course, I think about that, and that inspires a ficlet. And then that ficlet turns dark. So... *shrug* *shoves new baby out in the world*

Rated T

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first time Hob sees Dream is when the latter has the audacity to enter the Morningstar's realm. He watches as the Dream King intimidates Squatterbloat into bringing him to the Palace. The demon is stupid and gullible, easily swayed, and Hob has a mind to bury his morningstar in the moron's fleshy head, but he would rather observe the visitor and his raven from the shadows.

Hob trails them, the straps of his armor expanding and morphing to cover his body with the mottled charcoals and midnights that are the palette of Hell. Squatterbloat leads the King in a circuitous route to their destination, passing a cell whose occupant not only commands the attention of the sovereign of the Dreaming, but whose pleading pains him. Curious.

He follows the pair of black figures beyond their guided tour, all the way into Lucifer's Hall, sliding unnoticed through the crack in the main doors. Hob is good at his job. He hadn't been successful at being a bandit and cutthroat in life for nothing.

Hob takes a place in the long shadows of one of the pillars and observes.

Apparently the Lord of Dreams and Nightmares is here in Hell to retrieve his helm, one of his important symbols of office. And of course it is some overly ripe idiot like Choronzon who has it. Sometimes Hob just wants to kill them all and promote new individuals to the positions of power, sometimes the house can't be cleaned, it needs to be razed and rebuilt.

But what is truly awe-inspiring is watching the battle between Dream and the Morningstar themself. The Dream King wins, although not handily. It makes the victory even more impressive. Hope. Of fucking course. Hob is quite sure that he has never seen the Lord of Hell so visibly angry in all his 600 plus years in the underworld.

Helm secured and confidence restored, the Lord of the Dreaming is proud and... well, he is incredibly beautiful. He is sharp angles in soft greys and blacks, luminous white skin draped in flowing ink, spikes of hair wafting against gravity.

Curiosity getting the better of him, Hob follows Lord Morpheus and his raven back outside. They walk slowly through the barren, twisted landscape, calculated and careful. Imperious.

Hunger ripples down Hob's spine. He wants.

The Lord stops, body going more still than death. "I am here in my official capacity as King of Dreams and Nightmares. You have followed me for long enough. Show yourself, fiend."

The Dream King's voice is so much deeper and darker than Hob expected and now it is directed at him and it goes directly to his cock. He decides to drop any pretense all at once.

Hob has no shame as he steps out from hiding, the shadow-plates sliding back and leaving him in what really amounts to a series of leather straps and a loincloth, buckled to accentuate the triangle of his torso and the strength in his chest, with sleeves from biceps to palms. The Knights of Hell need no metal protection - they shield themselves in darkness and guile - and so Lucifer Morningstar gives them intangible weapons: the ability to inspire lust and envy as much as wrath. He drops his physical weapon and holds his hands out to his sides.

"Dream King," Hob inclines his head. "I am not here to harm, nor am I here at the behest of my Lord, the Lightbringer." He meets the King's piercing blue eyes and has to grit his teeth to hold in a gasp at how sharply they cut into his breast.

That look trails from Hob's head to his toes slowly, then back up. Judging. Assessing. "So why do you dog my steps, Hellknight?"

He shrugs and takes a step forward. There is no reason for Hob to not be bold. He has long been dead. He has been a resident of Hell and served the Devil themself, has lived that fate worse than death, for almost seven centuries. He has, quite literally, nothing to lose.

So Hob nudges a the magic at his disposal into the cant of his hips, the tilt of his head, the purse of his lips. He lowers his eyelids and takes another step towards the luminous being of black and white before him. "I merely wish to look my fill before I can no longer."

"Bossss..." The raven flies a nervously tight circle above them. He is summarily ignored.

"You wish to more than look, Hellknight, for I can taste your dreams." The Lord of Nightmares snarls as he takes multiple steps to get into Hob's personal space. "You dare-"

Hob laughs loud enough to interrupt him and those ice shards widen in shock. "Oh, yes. I dare." He steps up once more and now their faces are within inches of each other. "How do you think the Morningstar trains their knights? Do you think there is anything you could do to me that would be worse than 700 years of this?"

The resonant chuckle that curls across Hob's skin should probably worry him, but he cannot muster such sense when he is watching the pupils of the Dream King's eyes bleed black outwards, eclipsing his eyes entirely, and wholly captivating Hob. "Lucifer Morningstar's sins often get in the way of their... creativity."

A pale hand shoots towards him and Hob braces for impact, for pain.

He gets nothing of the sort.

Fingers that are the coolness of a lake in summer skate with hedonistic gentleness across Hob's cheek. The palm cups Hob's jaw sweetly. Honeyed breath caresses Hobs lips before they are pressed together. Then he is being kissed with the fondness and warmth of a dear lover.

And that is when Hob realizes that he has vastly miscalculated.

Against his better judgement, Hob is lost to the tide of it. The softest touch of tongues morphs into lazy familiar licks, mapping Hob's mouth as if to memorize, immortalize.

The King of Dreams pulls away and Hob is left panting and hazy.

"I touch you, I kiss you, as I would a lover, as I would my beloved." The King whispers it like a benediction. Hob gasps at the horror that settles into the marrow of his bones. "And never will you feel it again."

And then he is gone.

Hob watches, frozen, as each stride the King takes covers miles. It is only when they have disappeared over the horizon, both Lord and Raven, that Hob realizes tears are streaming down his face.

[everlarkbirthdaygifts]

Happy birthday, pizzamellart!!

We want to wish @pizzamellart a very happy birthday this eleventh day of December! In honor of your day, @booksrockmyface has written a story just for you!

Title: Throw Me Into the Fire (Pull Me Out Again)

Gift for: pizzamellart

Rating: M

Author’s note: My dear, this smutty arranged marriage fic is for you on your very special day! I hope it’s the start of the best year yet! (Title comes from the Paramore song Told You So.)

________

Peeta walked past the calendar. There was a large circle around the date. How could he have forgotten? Katniss had been getting more and more withdrawn as the day drew closer. He always tried to calm her fears by bring home her favorite cheese buns.

“Are you going to work for a while?” Katniss asked, looking over Peeta’s Mellark Bakery shirt and jeans.

“No, I forgot what today is.” He picked up the phone and made a quick excuse to his father. He sat the phone back on its cradle. “I’m sorry.”

“I figured when you just got out of bed…” She sighed and headed back up the stairs. “Let me sleep a little more, okay?”

“Sure.” Peeta watched her walk up the stairs and went into the kitchen to make breakfast.

At least it’s her. He said to himself. He said it every month on this day. If he could have chosen, it would have been her. And he swore to try to make these days special for her. Well, as special as she would allow.

Peeta carried a tray to the room he shared with Katniss.

She quickly wiped her eyes. “That looks delicious.” She said, trying to sound normal.

He ignored the tears and sat the tray over her lap. “Eggs scrambled with a little bit of Prim’s goat cheese, toast, and I found an orange the other day at the Hob. I’ve been saving it for you for today.”

She pushed the eggs around a bit, a smile forming on her lips. “It looks great.” She took a tentative bite.

“I’ll let you take some time.” Peeta started to leave, but Katniss’s soft voice stopped him.

“Gale told me Madge is going to have another already.”

He leaned against the doorframe, looking out into the hall. Gale and Madge had been married for two years, just a year longer than Katniss and Peeta. This would be their second baby already.

Peeta turned, putting on a smile. “Well, the Hawthornes are a fertile bunch, so I would expect nothing less.”

Katniss scowled. “Because they actually like the process.”

“You don’t like it?” He asked, feeling like his heart had plummeted to his feet.

“Well, I don’t dislike it, but there are other things I’d prefer to do.” She lifted the tray and moved from underneath it. “We better get started.”

He nodded, taking the tray to set it aside. He pushed his pants to the floor before climbing in beside her.

Katniss pulled him close and kissed him deeply.

Peeta pulled away. She’d never kissed him like that before.

“Please, just…” She climbed onto his lap and renewed the kiss, grinding down against his erection.

He moaned and tugged at her waistband. She wiggled out of her pants and then quickly returned, lowing herself over him. Resting her forehead against his, she started moving.

Peeta slipped his hands up Katniss’s back and whispered, “This is my favorite day.”

She gave him a reluctant smile and kissed him again. Her lips moved across his jaw and down his neck, her head resting on his shoulder as she moved faster.

His heart rate quickened. He grunted and took hold of Katniss’s hips. Rolling her beneath him, Peeta increased his speed. He didn’t want it to end, but he would make it go faster for her.

He saw stars and let out a low groan.

“Please slow down.” Katniss asked softly.

Peeta stopped and forced his eyes open. “What?”

“Slow. Down.” She repeated, placing her hands on his waist. “I want to feel you a little longer this time. It’s been a whole month.”

His heart soared with those words and he did his best to rein himself in. He leaned closer and kissed her softly as he moved languidly. Her eyes fell shut and her mouth opened in a gasp.

They came in the same instant, soft cries mingling together in the still of the house.

Peeta looked down at Katniss. A small smile played on her lips as she panted.

“We don’t have to wait for this one day.” He said as he moved away. “If you like it, we can do it more often. There’s no rule—”

“I don’t know what I want, Peeta.” She sighed. “I married you because I had to. I sleep with you this one day because I have to. I hate the have to.”

“Well, if you ever decide you want to do it just because…” He gave her one of his best smiles.

She returned it and shrugged. “Perhaps.”

“You want me to warm up your breakfast?” He asked.

“No, it’s fine. I’m not really hungry.”

“Would you like me to stay here until…”

She rolled into him. “I think I’d like that.”

________

They spent most of the day in bed, dozing and making love whenever the mood struck. Just like every other month. But something had clicked this time. It wasn’t quick and they shared many kisses.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Peeta pressed a kiss to the side of Katniss’s head and rolled out of bed. “We haven’t eaten since breakfast. I’ll make you something.”

“I’ll help.” She followed, both of them pulling on their clothes before making their way downstairs.

Peeta opened the fridge and took out a bowl. “That duck you got yesterday.”

Katniss nodded. “Sounds good.” She opened a drawer and pulled out two potatoes. “I’ll make mashed potatoes.”

They worked quietly for a while.

Peeta broke it. “I made the bread my father brought yours for the negotiations. Did I ever tell you that?”

Katniss shook her head.

“I know you’re the one who shot the squirrels he brought.” He continued. “Right through the eye. That’s your style. Your dad gets them through the neck.”

“Dad wouldn’t let me go to the meetings.” She said woefully.

“My dad wouldn’t let me either. But I knew it was you the first time when Dad brought in the squirrels and said they were from the father of my intended bride.” Peeta placed the prepared meat in a hot skillet. He pointed at his eye. “I begged Dad to do everything he could to seal the deal.”

“I thought it was your brother Ryan I was going to have to be married to.” She tossed the last of the potatoes into a pot and covered them with water.

Peeta made a face. “You’d be miserable with him. He’s as hard-headed as you.”

Katniss bumped her hip against his. “Thanks for the boost of confidence.”

“I meant—”

“I know.” She grinned. “You’ve lived with me for a whole year and decided I was worth the effort. Ryan probably would have been begging for another bride in six months.”

He laughed and tended to the meat on the stove. “Too bad his wife got knocked up within two months. They’re stuck.”

Katniss laughed. “Well, they seem to like each other well enough.”

“Mom makes them play nice for company. But they’ve had a few shouting matches in the bakery kitchen.” Peeta leaned close. “Dad said she couldn’t come to the back again if she kept it up and threatened to fire Ryan.”

She trailed her fingers over his cheek. “You are so very handsome.” She said softly. “I don’t think I’ve ever told you.”

He smiled and leaned into her touch. “I think… I think I need to eat something so I can regain some of this strength you’ve suddenly drained from me.”

She chuckled and dropped her hand. “Potatoes are almost done.” She took the pot off the burner and turned to get a colander.

Peeta took hold of her hips and pulled her hard against him. “I’m not above eating cold food.”

Katniss leaned back against him, squeezing his thigh. “Here?”

He smiled, turned her around, and bent down to wrap his arms around her thighs. She let out a little squeal when he stood and threw her over his shoulder. In a few quick strides, he was up the stairs and in the bedroom. He dropped Katniss on the bed and quickly disrobed.

She followed suit and pulled Peeta on top of her. They rolled back and forth, making a jumble of the bedsheets.

He rolled her beneath him finally. “I think I really love you, Katniss. It’s been a great year with you. And I can’t wait for the rest of our lives together.”

“You can always change your mind.” She said softly. There was uncertainty in her voice.

“I’m never going to change my mind about you. I’ve liked you since we were kids. Since before I even understood what it all meant.” With a slow kiss, he slid inside her. He swallowed the low moan that escaped her throat. “I love you.” He said again.

They made love slowly, their voices loud and encouraging. The sound in the room rose steadily until they reached another glorious mutual climax.

Peeta smiled down at Katniss.

She smiled back and whispered, “I love you, too.”

He kissed her deeply. Perhaps they would finally be successful.