#bringin' home the rain part two

[citrus-moonlight]

Salvation is a Deep Dark Well

Chapter 3: Now When I Look In Your Eyes

[ Masterlist - Part Two ] -> [ Masterlist - Part One ]

Fandom: MCU - Age of Ultron, Black Panther Pairing: Ulysses Klaue x F!Reader Word count: 9.4K Chapters: 3/6 Rating: Explicit

Summary: You manage to distract yourself for long enough to make through the rest of the day, but when Klaue finally returns to you he still makes you wait, surprising you with something unexpected before finally making good on his promise.

Warnings: Explicit!, Mild Age Difference, Reader is Late 30s, Use of Pet Names, Teasing, Smut, Dirty Talk, Reference to Masturbation (F), Mild Size Kink, Soft Dom, Nipple Play, Oral Sex (F!Receiving), Begging, Overstimulation, Multiple Orgasms (F), PIV Sex, Cock Riding, Cream Pie, Praise Kink, Needy Dom, Very Brief Fingering, Cum Eating, Porn With Plot, Reader is In It Now Kids, More Accidental Feelings Oh No

Author's Note: Hello, friends, and welcome back! When I tell you I'm very glad I split up this chapter - this was essentially supposed to be a chapter "prologue" of maybe 2k, and then, well, *gestures broadly*. Klaue wants what he wants, what can I say. 😏

The next chapter is going to be an undertaking (gala!), and I can't really give a timeline at this point, but it's at least outlined and in the meantime you can read their little holiday interlude (which I accidentally wrote first, lol) and it'll now be in order! ☺️

As always, thank you for reading and for sticking with me, I hope you enjoy this next chapter! 💕

✨ Read on AO3 ✨

Chapter title is from "Come Alive" by Cannons

Now that you're by my side I get this feeling, get this feeling Like I'm hypnotized Now when I see your eyes I get this feeling, get this feeling I just come alive And I've been dreaming of you Do you dream of me too?

Through every ounce of will you can summon you somehow manage to last.

After stopping by your room to quickly wash and change, you realize once you get back to the industrial sector that there’s not enough of your shift left to justify starting on any new projects, so instead you occupy yourself with busy work - finally putting away your station that was left in disarray after the tense altercation earlier, and getting rid of everyone’s scrap that's been piling up in the workspace.

Then you trudge through a layer of fresh snow to finally finish the inventory that you’d attempted to start two days ago before everything had gone to shit.

Even as you try to focus on the tedium of the various tasks you inevitably find yourself turning over Klaue’s request - his command - in your mind.

Honestly, you probably wouldn’t have done more than think about it, having really just been wanting to tease him (which you’re starting to enjoy doing, perhaps a little too much), but on top of the natural frustration from being interrupted, then being told that you couldn’t? 

He'd managed to find a way to drive you mad even when he was nowhere near you.

Waves of heat roll through you as you make entries in the log, and every time you move you’re growing increasingly aware of the slick sensation between your thighs, a reminder that you’re already making a mess of your fresh panties.

And, so? What do you want?

Besides whatever he’ll give you.

Besides everything.

A thick index finger slowly sinking into you, dragging and curling while his thumb rubs your throbbing clit until you’re shaking.

Another tick on your paperwork and you circle the total a little more aggressively than necessary, leaving a little tear in the paper, ink marking the page beneath.

Locking up the first cage you move on to the next, feeling as though plumes of steam should be visibly rolling off of you, and eyeing a snowdrift you wonder if it would draw too much attention if you just lay down on it face first. It seems like the only thing that might actually cool you off right now as the overlap of memory and anticipation has an aching heat wrapping around your hips and flowing outward from deep in your belly.

His thigh pressed against your sex, but now you're bare for him, the hair on his leg dark with your arousal as strong muscles flex beneath you, and this time you rut against him for as long as you want.

And he's the first man who's made it feel like it’s alright for you to want. Unafraid of your desire Klaue instead seeks it out, coaxing you to surrender to it, pushing you to admit that it’s yours until you can't help but take and then, oh, the satisfied darkness in his eyes when you do.

As you continue to work you wonder if maybe he’s feeling the same way you are right now. Does it make him hard to think about you while he deals with his men and speaks to important figures? Is he shifting and adjusting himself at the thought of how needy you must be but forced to deny yourself?

Or is he calm, knowing that even now there’s a way that every thought is tethered to him, not thousands of miles away but right here in the same building, waiting.

The idea of him being distracted pleases you, but certainly does nothing to help the throb in your core. You think about how easy it would have been to find a release when you’d stopped by your room, and now you're growing so distracted that you’re tempted to go back or to slip away into a washroom. It would be quick with how worked up you are and then maybe you’d be able to actually concentrate.

After all, how would he know if you did?

And yet a part of you knows that it wouldn’t be satisfying, not really. That same part that connects to the tugging desire to be good, that wants him to be pleased that you’ve obeyed.

So you shake your head and fall back on a trick you use to help curb your emotions when you’ve had to deal with shitty people throughout your career, starting to rhyme off words in your head - glow, tomorrow, elbow, tempo, Orinoco Flow. Gradually your mind begins to calm a bit, and after several slow breaths the ache ebbs enough that you’re able to focus back on the tanks and the clipboard in your hand.

Once you settle into a rhythm you manage to finish the inventory pretty quickly, even if can’t completely stop your mind from spinning a little, and as you lock everything up and head back to drop off the paperwork with Tom, you finally have to admit to yourself that you knew what your answer was going to be as soon as Klaue told you to decide.

Several hours later the sun has fully set when you open your door to the welcome sight of Klaue standing in the hallway.

You want to reach out for him, to grab his shirt and pull him to you, but for now you simply watch as he walks in and slowly shuts the door behind him and turns to face you.

“Did you have enough water?” 

You can’t help but huff a laugh that the first thing out of his mouth is to make sure you’d listened to what he’d said, even though he must be more than aware that all you want is for him to throw you onto the bed.

“I’ve been drinking.” You assure him, though you can’t help rolling your eyes a little. 

His gaze narrows, not questioning but still eyeing the half-empty bottle on your nightstand.

“And you’re feeling alright?”

“I’m feeling like I might lose my mind if you don’t touch me soon,” you all but scoff.

“You know what I mean, darling,” he warns, sharp eyes flicking down to your lips.

For the love of god, please just kiss me.

“Still good, Ulysses, I swear. And I promise I’ll let you know if I’m not.”  you reply, sweetly frustrated, but you can’t help but smile at his concern.

He seems placated, but still doesn’t approach you.

“And did you work past your shift?”

You swear to god one more question and you’re just going to throw yourself at him, though this one still gives you pause.

It had been your instinct to, you can’t deny it, tempted to find more to occupy yourself so that you wouldn’t be quite so trapped with your thoughts. But you’d resisted, and once you passed off the paperwork there was no real reason to stick around.

“No. I didn’t.” 

You feel a little silly at the giddiness that follows your truthful reply and the pleased grin that twitches at the corner of his mouth.

“And you waited.”

These words are lower and there is no question in them. 

You’re certain that he already knows the answer, that he could tell as soon as he’d walked in the door. You’ve been antsy, unable to stop shifting on your feet, your restless hands unconsciously picking up your scarf from the table by the door and twisting the short fringe into tiny spikes during this exchange. 

“I did.” 

Slowly he steps toward you, plucking the scarf from your fingers and dropping it back on the table.

“I’m glad to hear it.” His voice drops, your breath hitching in anticipation when a hand lifts to finally reach for you.

But then he pauses, fingertips a hairsbreadth from your skin. Seeming to consider something he pulls back again and you have to bite back the frustrated noise that wants to escape your throat. 

“Come with me,” Klaue moves away from you, nodding toward the door. 

“I’d very much like to, thanks,” you think, the tingle of the near contact leaving your nerves buzzing, but while you're nearing your wit’s end you can’t help but be curious about what he’s thinking. 

Steeling yourself with a deep breath you nod wordlessly, but as you walk over to grab your key card from the bedside table you make a quick decision. Following the temptation of a thought that you’d been considering earlier you slide open the drawer to find something hidden within, quickly pocketing it along with the key and your phone.

Before you’ve gone very far, though, Klaue directs you to the canteen. You can’t say that this is what you were expecting but you wait quietly, curiosity knitting your brows as he starts to work one of the machines, hot water pouring over a black tea bag as he adds a packet of honey to the dark, steaming liquid. But then instead of drinking it himself he hands it to you.

“I know you didn’t drink enough water,” he chides.

Your mouth drops open though no words come out. 

You want to laugh, acutely aware that you both know the reason for the tea. Eyes wide, you glance around and even though you know that anyone who might be watching will continue on oblivious, when your eyes meet his heat flares between your thighs as you recall the tears that stained your cheeks while you gratefully licked his mess from your lips.

“Thank you.” Your heart races as you bite back a smile and finally wrap your fingers around the proffered drink, and then with a darkening look you feel a hand on the small of your back, swiftly guiding you on your way.

You really had felt fine but as you sip the hot liquid you have to admit that it feels nice as the honey soothes your throat, a frown and another swallow of your tea unable to tamp down the flutter in your chest that seems to match the sweetness on your tongue.

When you reach a familiar juncture you wonder if he wants to finish things where they’d started, but then you make a different turn and then another, leading you away from his office until eventually he stops in front of a door that appears to be down its own hallway. 

The cup freezes on its path to your lips when you notice the key card in his hand and the realization suddenly hits you: These are Klaue’s quarters. 

Oh shit.

It hadn’t even occurred to you as a possibility tonight. Not that you hadn’t thought about it - in fact you’d thought about it more than a few times - but you still feel like a deer caught in the headlights as the lock beeps and clicks open.

Your heart pounds as you follow him inside where you’re greeted by an insistent pinging coming from a workstation in the corner, and with an impatient sound Klaue walks to the desk with a scaled down version of what you’d seen in his office.

“Hm, I need to check on this. I’ll just be a minute.” 

You barely hear him. He could have very well told you that an Asgardian ambassador and the Queen of England were waiting for a video call with him and you’re not sure that you would have reacted. 

As you wait for him you force the analytical side of your brain to kick in and try to observe some of the details, noting that his room is almost identical to your own quarters, just bigger: An open layout, a closet in the same spot, but with something that could actually be considered a proper window. 

The main difference is the additional space akin to an office with the desk and electronics connected to several monitors, which doesn’t really surprise you: Klaue doesn’t strike you as the type to ever really stop working - at least not for very long.

Aside from the cool light emanating from the corner where he’s sitting the room is dim and unexpectedly warm, and as you look around your eyes inexorably stray to the bed (his bed), partially made, the covers and sheets a stoney grey and roughly pulled up to where crooked pillows sit against the headboard and- 

Jesus, you need to sit down. 

Unfortunately the only place to sit right now would be the bed, which just makes you need to sit down even more, and-.

Oh god.

Squeezing your eyes shut you take several slow inhales in an attempt to get your pounding heart under control.

“So..” 

You nearly jump at the sound of his voice, and when your eyes fly back open you see that he’s finished, the monitors now sitting dark behind him.

“Have you decided, darling?” Klaue’s words are deceptively casual, belying the heat in his eyes.

He’s back now, focused entirely on you again, chin propped against his knuckles as his hungry gaze slides over your body, and you can’t help how your own eyes immediately stray to his spread thighs and the prominent ridge between them that’s growing evident even in the low light.

“I have.” You manage to keep your voice soft, but you can’t hide the tremble in your reply.

Pushing himself up out of the chair Klaue slowly saunters over to where you still haven't moved, stopping when he's close enough that you can feel the heat of his body, invisible tendrils of need reaching out for him, desperate to close the gap.

“And?” The word is low and breathless and sets your nerves alight.

Finding it difficult to meet his eyes your teeth catch your lower lip, a shy flush working its way through your body even as your desire flares hot again. 

“Well, it wasn’t easy.” You glance at him through your lashes. “I had a lot of time to think. And there are so many ways that you make me feel good.” 

As you speak he finally reaches out to you, fingers grasping the hem of your shirt and tugging it up until you lift your arms to allow him to pull it over your head.

“Go on.” Klaue prompts, leaving you to swallow a moan when he suddenly drops to his knees.

Looking up at you expectantly his hands slide up the backs of your thighs, briefly cupping and squeezing the curve of your ass before moving to your waist to seek the bare skin there.

“Well, I was thinking about…letting you watch me.”

Fingertips still in their ghosting path just above your waistband.

“I thought about letting you watch how I use my fingers to make myself come when I’m alone here. Alone and wishing you could hear me every time I moan your name.”

You can see that his breathing is going rough at your words, and licking your lips you continue.

“Or maybe…using this.” Slipping your fingers into the pocket in the side of your leggings, you pull out what you’d tucked next to your phone earlier, shining silver and not much bigger than a tube of lipstick.

Brief confusion followed by a sharp look of understanding flashes across Klaue's face as he realizes what you’re holding.

“A vibrator?” His voice is intrigued, a brow arching as he takes the small device from you and turns it over in his fingers, perhaps imagining you using it, writhing in pleasure yet unsatisfied because it’s not him. 

But at the same time you can tell he wasn’t expecting this, his expression coloured perhaps with a shade of disappointment. And that shouldn’t make you feel as good as it does. 

He looks like he’s going to say something but holds it back, he’d laid out the parameters, after all. He’d told you that you had to decide how you were going to come, but he didn’t actually say that it had to be him.

“I thought about you watching me with this against my clit, until you decide I’ve had enough. Until I beg you to let me stop.”

You can see his mind working though he’s uncharacteristically quiet, the fingers of his free hand digging into your hip so hard it’s beginning to ache.

“But…then I changed my mind.” 

“Yeah?” Klaue’s voice is strained as he seems to go still as stone, hardly seeming to breathe now, waiting for you to continue.

“I want your mouth, Ulysses.”

A look of pained relief glints across his eyes before hardening back into a vehement blue, and without waiting for you to say anything else he roughly tugs at the waistband of your leggings, peeling them halfway down your thighs, and then with a groaned sigh his lips are suddenly pressed against your clothed mound.

“I was hoping you’d say that.” 

Klaue’s breath is warm through the fabric of your panties, his tone indicating that it may have been less hope and more desperation. 

“Tell me why.” His command is the rumble of a distant storm that sends a shudder through your body.

“Because…I couldn’t stop thinking - I can never stop thinking about it, Ulysses, oh-” 

You gasp when his tongue is suddenly on you, pressing to easily part your cleft before sliding down to taste the damp spot where your arousal has soaked through the fabric.

“Is that all?” He asks with an infuriatingly coy smile, waiting for you to continue. 

“I need your mouth between my legs, I need you to taste what you do to me, what just the thought of you does to me, oh my god-”

He rolls his tongue against your clit, the slick friction quickly growing rougher and more demanding. 

“And because…because I can feel that you want it too, and that makes me feel really fucking good.”

Arching against his mouth your words trail off to a moan, but just as pleasure begins to swirl hot and insistent Klaue pulls away, his fingers tugging your panties down as well, and your hands brace on his shoulders as he helps you out of everything.

“There’s very little in this world I want more, darling. I love feeling how wet you get when you’re desperate for my tongue."

As you watch his fingers moving it occurs to you that he often seems intent on being the one to undress you, calloused palms running over the skin he's revealed, that's his to reveal, eyes dark and riven with need as though seeing you for the first time.

Once you’re stripped down to only your bra he pauses, hands fitting around your waist, forehead resting against your hip. Warm breath washes over your skin and although he’s so, so close to where you’re aching for his touch you find yourself pausing with him, your mind growing quiet.

It’s a different kind of quiet from the way he so deftly empties your head with his fingers or his cock, every thought supplanted by pleasure. There’s still a trembling anticipation that can't be ignored, electricity buzzing steadily through the air between you, but for a moment you both surrender to the calm, hovering in that space between heartbeats.

Your hands explore the backs of his, playing over his rings, over the leather cuff on his wrist, and when they trail over his forearms you can feel the faintest tremble in his muscles as he holds you against him. 

Your fingers find a salt and pepper curl and brush it away from his face, needing to see him, the breath nearly knocked from your lungs when his shining blue gaze finds yours. He almost looks surprised, perhaps unused to your tenderness, but after a breath the crease between his brows softens as he leans into your touch. 

It’s not long, though, before the air begins to crackle again and with his eyes still on yours he shifts, slowly dragging the tip of his nose along your cleft with a deep inhale and a sigh, and just that warmth against your sensitive flesh has you whimpering, the calm quickly ebbing away as your aching need swiftly flows back in.

Your hips flex forward to seek more and your breath catches in anticipation of his tongue, but instead he pulls away, and before you have a chance to protest he's standing again, reaching quickly to unclasp your bra, sensing a crack in his composure in the brief fumble of his fingers as they work the metal loops. 

Now standing naked in his room Klaue moves in close enough that as you breathe the peaks of your nipples brush against his still clothed chest, and when he leans in you instinctively tilt your head.

“Tell me again.” Lips ghosting across the skin beneath your ear sends fresh heat to your core.

“I need your mouth, need you to make me come on your tongue.” You pause before adding. “As many times as you want. Please.” 

“That's right, you will.” Klaue replies, his voice low and tight with need. “Now, on the bed, darling.” 

Without hesitation you quickly make your way over to sit on the bed, the scent of him swirling around you as you adjust the pillows and settle back, and when you glance back up you're greeted by the intoxicating vision of Klaue standing at the foot of the bed, fingers frozen on the bottom button of his now open shirt.

“I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought about you here in my bed.” He says with a rough sigh, fingers freeing the last button as his gaze slides up your legs and over the soft swell of your breasts.

“Can’t be more than the number of times I’ve thought about being here.” You admit in turn, a smirk beginning but quickly falling as you watch him peel off his shirt, muscles flexing beneath the ink that paints his chest and shoulders.

“I have to say, it seems I was right, Mot.”

“About what?” You frown.

“About how lovely you’d look, right there.”

Caught off guard by the sweetness in his words a reply falters on your lips, and you squeeze your thighs together as though it might help you to hide from the way he makes you feel. But of course he notices.

“Would you spread your legs for me, please?”

Biting your lip you meet his eyes and begin to slowly straighten your legs, sliding them down towards the foot of the bed before letting your knees fall open. At first it’s just enough to give him a teasing peek but the heat of his gaze has you helpless to keep yourself from him. 

Spreading your legs wider you pull your knees back and open, and when the cool air hits you exposed skin you’re immediately aware of just how wet you are, and not just your sex - you can feel the insides of your thighs have become damp with your arousal as well and judging by the look on his face he can see it.

Slowly you shift down a bit more, giving a little upward rock of your hips for his benefit as you tuck one hand up behind your head, letting the other rest across your hip, attempting to look much calmer than you feel.

Following to where you’ve made a lovely display for him on his bed he removes the last of his layers, freeing the deliciously thick curve of his cock to hang heavy and twitching between his thighs, and standing above you he tilts his head appraisingly. A flush of heat crawls through every inch of your body as he takes a moment to drink in the sight of you, then slowly sits down on the edge of the bed..

Reaching out a hand he lets his fingertips alight on your knee before dragging them up over the skin of your inner thigh, his eyes staying fixed along the path they take, watching intently as your muscles flex and quiver beneath his touch.

“Not my fingers, then? You’re sure?” Klaue teases, smirking when your hips cant up against the air. With significant effort you manage to drag your thoughts away from how good it feels, how easy it would be to let him relieve the ache in your core.

“YesI’msure,” you blurt in a rush, quickly reaching down to stop his hand where it hovers inches from your sex.

“Both hands.” He says quietly, eyes flicking above your head in explanation. “And keep them there. Understood?”

“Yes. I understand, Ulysses.” You nod, the vice of your fingers slowly releasing him.

Once you’ve tucked your hands up and between the two pillows you’re resting against, he seems satisfied and moves the rest of the way onto the bed, positioning his body over yours.

He’s warm and heavy and you can feel the grin when his lips find the hollow of your throat, your hips beginning to roll slowly beneath him, acutely aware of his hard cock nudging against the inside of your thigh.

“I’ve thought about you here like this for so long.” Klaue murmurs, his tongue tasting your skin, trailing slow kisses up one side of your neck and then down the other, making his way down your chest before pausing at your breasts.

Then you think you hear something else, something quieter, whispered against your heartbeat.

“Want to keep you here.”

But you're distracted by his mouth again before you can really register the words, overwhelmed by how you’re already trembling and clenching just from the drag of his lips across your inflamed skin, and maybe you imagined it anyway. 

When his tongue flicks over your nipple none of your thoughts don’t stand a chance, a moan immediately sliding from deep in your chest. He spends just enough time on each to leave them peaked and aching, but when he starts to move further down you stop him.

“No, wait! More please, please..”

You look down at him, breathless and imploring, arching your chest up to encourage him, sighing with relief when his tongue returns to swirl over the pebbled flesh, and soon you’re moaning again as he alternates from one to the other, kissing and sucking until you’re writhing beneath the solid weight of him. 

Just when you think you can’t take any more he holds a nipple between his lips, just the very tip of his tongue flicking quickly until an ache starts to build deep in your belly, everything growing hot and tight and then suddenly your back is arching hard as you let out a broken cry, and while his tongue continues to work a hand cups your other breast, his thumb circling there in a matching rhythm as your cunt clenches around nothing. 

It doesn’t have the same peaking intensity but it still feels like you're coming, like if he keeps doing this you just might, and only when he pulls away does the desperate tension finally release from your muscles with a gasp.

“Another night I’m going to find out how many times I can make you do that.” He looks up at you, his expression more than a little smug. “But right now I think it’s time I made good on my promise, don’t you?”

You’re unable to respond with more than a nod, still panting and shuddering as he resumes his path downward. Your skin shines in the low light as his lips and tongue lave along your stomach and over your hips, and as he finally reaches the juncture of your thighs Klaue adjusts himself, setting there so that he’s lying with his erection pressed firmly into the mattress.

He pauses then, using his thumbs to gently spread you open for him, his mouth hovering just over your aching sex to let you feel his breath before you feel his touch.

“God, you are soaked for me, aren’t you?” 

Before you can form any kind of reply he presses his lips against you, kissing just above your swollen bud, teasingly close to where you need him so badly that all you can do is whine for it.

“What was that, my darling?” He prompts you, gently taunting.

“I need your mouth on my pussy, please I needohhgod-”

He cuts you off with a flick of his tongue, then another, at first grazing you gently but then unable to resist he licks a hungry stripe through your folds, and the sudden slick warmth combined with the vibration of his moan through your cunt has you greedily rolling your hips.

Watching him as his tongue continues to move between your legs you can sense the tension in his shoulders gradually softening, that tension he holds as part of his natural state, ever curled and ready to react drains away as he gives in to your honeyed musk, his arms sliding around your thighs to hold you snug against his mouth.

You want to reach down, to run your hands over his neck and shoulders and through his curls, but you resist, gripping the pillow tighter in an effort to keep them where they are, not daring to take the chance that he might stop.

But then he does pull off of you suddenly, silently looking up at you with heavy lidded eyes.

“What- what’s wrong?” You pant, confused and trying not to be concerned.  

“You’re not a dream, are you?” Klaue murmurs, resting his cheek against the inside of your thigh, plush beneath the scratch of his beard. He watches you for a long moment as though he were a parched man in the desert afraid that you were a mirage, and if he’s not careful he might lose sight of you. 

“I don’t think so?” Relief floods you and you laugh softly.

“No. You taste too good to be a dream.” 

Seeming reassured his mouth is on you again, lips soft and warm as they slowly, slowly close around your clit, and the gentle suction he adds now has your breath stuttering in your chest.

Your body begins to tremble, and seeming to anticipate it his arms tighten around your thighs just as you buck, keeping you in place as everything grows achingly bright and you arch against his mouth until you’re crying out, the pillowcase twisting in your fists as his hum of approval around your clit finally sends your orgasm surging through you hard and swift, pent up hours of thwarted desire finally finding its release.

And even when the pulsing waves begin to soften, he has no intention of stopping.

At times it feels like he’s trying to tease you apart at the seams, at others it seems to want to devour you all at once, and while Klaue has never been shy about exploring you he seems to relish taking his time tonight, soaking in your heat, teasing and licking every inch of you to find new patterns that make you sigh and roll your hips.

Your desperate pleas grow less and less articulate as his fingers dig into the flesh of your hips so that he can grind your cunt against his tongue, and as overwhelming as it is you find yourself sinking into it. Letting the only thing you need be his mouth against the soft place between your legs you eventually lose track of how much time passes, simply focusing on the susurrus of heat and pleasure that flows out from your center as the sheets below you become soaked with your release.

Eventually when you start to whine and try to pull away Klaue sees fit to give you respite, suckling instead at the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh until bruises begin to bloom there, and as his lips drag slowly across your skin you take the chance to watch him, your eyes catching the movement of his hips, his perfect ass flexing as he slowly ruts against the bed. 

He must be achingly hard now, and you find yourself breathless at the thought of the stain he’s leaving on the sheets beneath him. Fresh heat spreads through your core as you imagine how his cock is twitching and leaking for you, and it’s not long before he notices your needy movements starting to seek him out again, eliciting a whimper when he presses a soft kiss against your clit.

This time, though, he waits, letting his mouth simply rest gently against you, warm and soft and shockingly patient, until just as he senses you starting to fully relax he suddenly sucks your clit between his lips and you’re gasping at the heated pressure around your bundle of nerves, his fluttering tongue unrelenting until you’re his name is the only sound your mouth can form.

Even now, sweaty and blissfully exhausted as he chases the last twitches of pleasure from your sex, you’re surprised that you can still feel the heady swirl of need humming through your tender flesh. And yet, although you have no real desire to pull away, and even though he told you that he was going to decide when you were finished, the thought still tugs from the back of your mind that he’s given you enough.

“You don't...don’t have to keep going.” You manage to stammer between panted breaths.

Pulling his mouth off of you Klaue looks up, his beard and full lips glistening with your juices.

“If you think I wouldn't spend the entire night with my mouth against you warm, sweet cunt." He punctuates this with a firm lick that has a moan lilting in your throat. "Then I'm afraid I'm going to have to work a little harder to turn off that mind of yours."

It's tempting, god it's so tempting to let him continue. You can feel yourself growing dangerously addicted to his unabashed hunger between your legs, yet you can’t deny that there’s a growing need for something else.

Because he hasn’t even put his fingers inside of you, only his tongue occasionally dipping down to tease at your entrance, and you’re fucking aching for more, imagining the arch and flex of his back as he fucks into you instead of wasting it on the mattress.

So you tilt your hips up to give him a more open view of where you’re dripping for him, a soft whine in your throat.

“What's the matter, darling? Tell me.”

“You said- you said if I was good…”

“Yes?” His eyes are fixed on yours as he mouths at the sensitive crease where your thigh meets your hip.

“You said I could come on your cock. And I waited. Like you said.”

“Yes, you did.” He pauses, considering. “But you were a tease, too, weren’t you? Pretending you wanted your little toy.”

Shit. Of course he’d figured you out. Your mind spins quickly, trying to figure out a way to keep what you’d been hoping for from slipping away.

“But I wasn’t lying, I did think about that.” 

“Oh, I’m sure you did. But it was never going to be what you asked for, was it?”

You suck at your lower lip to keep from pouting and you have to swallow the lump forming in your throat. 

What the hell has this man done to you? You’d lost count of how many times he’d made you come already and yet you’re on the verge of tears at the thought of not getting to fuck him tonight. But you hardly get to see him, after all. It’s not fair.

“No,” you finally admit meekly. “Ohh ‘m sorry.”

You whimper when the tip of a thick finger begins circling your entrance, but as soon as you tilt your hips to try to encourage him deeper he pulls his hand back.

“No, please, I need you.”

“Would you like to be a little more specific for me?” Klaue asks, watching your face intently as his finger slowly returns, and you know he can feel the flutter of your muscles as he dips teasingly into you.

“I need you inside me.” Saying it out loud sets an invisible spark alight, pushing out thoughts of anything else as your words continue to tumble out in a rush.

“God, do you have any idea how perfect your cock is? How wet I get when I think about you stretching me open? And I think about it it every fucking day. I need you to fuck me, Ulysses, need you to fill me with your cock and your cum, please I need you so fucking bad, I need you, I-”

The last words are cut off when your voice hitches, fighting to hold back the tears that prick hot at the corners of your eyes. 

Desperate with need you’re only dimly aware that he’s moving, shifting himself to the head of the bed so that his back is against the pillows and then he’s tugging you up, causing you to let out a startled “Oh!” as your hands quickly move to catch yourself on his chest, quickly reminded of how strong he is as powerful arms lift you until you’re straddling his lap.

The thick length of him is hot and achingly hard, and he sucks a breath through his teeth when he slides through your folds, parting your cleft until the head, flushed and drooling, bumps against your swollen clit.

“Since you asked so nicely.” Klaue hums with a satisfied grin.

You’re nearly giddy with relief as you feel another upward flex of his hips, a heated slide of skin against slippery skin, and then you press your mouth against his, moaning when you taste yourself on his lips. He responds quickly, his tongue delving into your mouth, your kiss deep and full of desire as the rock of both of your hips grows more insistent.

Bracing more firmly on your knees you lift up, allowing him to slide further down until your kiss is broken by a moan when his cock catches at your entrance, your muscles already trying to clench around him.

Impatient now you reach a hand down between your legs to grip him, gasping at how hot he is beneath your fingers. He gives you a stuttered groan when you drag the mixture of his precum and your arousal along his length before shifting to line him up with your opening, and then finally you drop your hips firmly down. 

Your head tips back with a sigh as you revel in the delicious ache of his girth slowly nudging into you, his mouth immediately moving to nip at the column of your neck, whispering praises against your skin.

“Needed my cock, hmm?” Klaue's voice pitches low. “That's good. I want there to be nothing else you can think about. Don't want you satisfied unless you're full of me.” 

You feel a fresh surge of arousal at his words, your slick already dripping down his cock as you rock down harder, desperate to fit him inside of you.

“Yes, fuck, you feel so good. You're the only one who's ever made me want to beg, Ulysses.”

His eyes darken at your admission, groaning as your walls clench around him.

“I'm a lucky man, then, because you're so beautiful when you beg, klein Mot.”

Bliss continues to spool out through your body, and you’ve been so distracted by the sweet relief that you’re just realizing that he isn’t moving, that there’s a tension in his thighs and in the muscles of his jaw as he fights to keep himself still, focused only on watching you split yourself open on him. 

Keeping your pace slow you allow yourself to luxuriate in every sensation, in the ridges of his cock as he slides deeper into you, the heat of broad hands roaming over you skin, dimpling the flesh of your thighs and then sliding to grip your ass, spreading you obscenely as you work yourself further down his length.

You’ve never been able to watch him like this and you’re nearly delirious from the sight, from the way he reacts to every flutter of your pussy around him, his arms flexing as his grip on you tightens in an effort to hold himself back. As you continue to ride him your own hands can’t help sliding greedily over the firm muscles of his shoulders, over the hair that covers his chest and belly and then down to where, although he’s softening with age, you’re still you’re keenly aware of the strength that resides beneath your fingers. 

But as good as this feels there’s a frustration building, because although it’s gotten easier to take him he’s still so much, and you’re struggling to take him as deep as you want. 

And judging by the look in his eyes, he can sense it.

“More,” you plead, the movement of your hips growing more insistent.

“What's the matter?” He asks with a wolfish glint of gold. “You said you needed my cock, darling. So take it.” 

His bitten words are harsh, lightning crackling behind his teeth.

A surge of adrenaline courses through your veins as your hands slide around to grip the back of his neck in search of more purchase, fingernails digging crescents into his skin as you rock down harder. You can feel a low growl that you slowly realize is coming from your own chest as you desperately work to take all of him, and determined now you don't stop until your hips are snug against his, every inch of you finally stretched and spread open on his cock.

Breathing through the ache of it you take a moment to savour the prize of him fully buried in you, moaning when you give a firm roll of your hips and feel the slick friction of coarse hair at the base of him pressing and dragging against your folds, your eyes slipping closed with a blissful smile.

“Look at you.” Klaue rumbles, his fingers reaching to brush sweat-damp strands of hair away from your face. “That's my good girl.”

Tugged back by his words your eyes flutter open again as you rise up and slowly drop back down, your breathing mirroring one another as you find a rhythm. When you begin to add a rolling motion in time with each downward plunge you’re gratified when his mouth drops open, head tilting back to knock against the headboard with a groaned curse, though he still watches you through dark lashes, taking in the pleased curve of your lips and the bounce of your tits as your movements start to grow rougher.

Because you’re not sure if it's the angle from being on top and him sitting up like this but every slide of his cock into is you drawing an intoxicating flush of pleasure, tension swiftly coiling deep in your belly and licking a path up your spine as your breath comes in shorter and shorter gasps, and already being so overstimulated you’re unprepared for how quickly you can feel your climax approaching.

“Fuck, that’s it.” His voice is rough with hard fought restraint. “Use my cock like the needy little thing you are.”

Sweat beads on your skin, threads of pleasure stringing tight as the first inevitable surge begins to build, but then your thighs flex and your back arches and with the change in angle and the way your muscles are starting to tighten around him he’s suddenly slipping from where he’d been perfectly rooted deep inside you and you can feel the heated pleasure pulling away. 

You were so close that you can’t get out anything more than a mixture of frustrated pleas, but then his voice cuts through the haze, dark and driving straight to your core.

“No.” Klaue growls. “Stay down.”

Gripping your hips tight he finally takes control, a hoarse cry ripped from your throat as he roughly forces his cock back into your clenching cunt, and startled by the sound that escapes you bite your lip hard, trying to hold it back.

“None of that,” he grits. “You're going to let me hear you, yeah? Because those lovely noises you make, they’re mine. The way my name sounds when you come, that's for me.”

Both of his arms encircle your waist and then you’re surrounded by him, by his grip, his voice, his musk, all of it demanding your pleasure, and your mouth drops open as you succumb to his command with a ragged moan.

Your thighs are burning now as you ride him, but with the edges of your climax gathering again you wouldn’t stop even if you could, and this time when your muscles tense and you buck suddenly against his grip he’s ready, powerful arms holding you in place.

You cling to his shoulders, desperate to hold on to something as you feel yourself tipping, the nearly unbearable friction against your clit drawing everything to a bright point, a silvery haze creeping in at the edges of your vision as you hover over the line between blissful agony and release.

“Going to come so hard for me, aren’t you?” His rasping words are more a plea than a question, rough from the rhythm of your hips as you grind helplessly against him. “So fucking beautiful.”

Finally you gasp a lungful of air as though hitting a shock of cold water and then the breath is forced from your lungs by a sob, tears you hadn't realized were pooling in your eyes spilling over as your orgasm crashes through you, his name falling in a tattered cry from your lips.

Your inhibitions are completely lost as you fuck yourself on his cock, chasing wave after wave of pleasure that rolls through your body and you can feel the rush of your release slicking the skin between you as you fall utterly apart, the heat of it only just starting to ebb when his gruff words bring you back to him, cutting through the din of ecstasy.

“Fuck, Mot don't stop. Need to come in your pussy, I'm-” Klaue stammers, his voice cracking with need.

“Ohh please,” you can only moan through hitched sobs.

Not able to thrust into you the way he normally wants he instead grips you tight, bracing his heels against the mattress and rutting his hips up as best he can while roughly grinding you down, his eyes squeezing shut as he focuses on keeping himself buried as deep inside of you as he can.

“Look at me,” you plead, your voice thick with tears and want.

Klaue’s eyes snap to yours, bright with the flame of a sapphire sacrament  and after a few more broken thrusts he jerks beneath you, the muscles of his thighs flexing against the insides of yours, his bruising grip holding you down until relief floods his features and you feel the first hard throb of his cock, your name a honeyed plea on his lips as he comes deep inside you.

The tension in your body has finally begun to soften and as you regain some control you force yourself to hold as still as you can, wanting to feel everything, to feel every pulse as he spills himself inside you, soaking in the delicious sound of every grunted sigh as the thick warmth of his cum fills you.

He continues to twitch and throb inside you as you both catch your breath, large hands beginning to soothe over your back and sides and then back down to your hips, a satisfied hum rolling through his chest as his touch follows the lazy cant of your hips.

Sweat damp skin slides against skin and your moan matches his when he grips your ass and rocks you slowly up and then back down on his still stiff length, and though he hisses at the overstimulation he does it again, and then again, until wet sounds are filling the room as you writhe languidly against each other, the sticky slick of both of your leaking out from where you’re deliciously swollen and sore.

“God, the only thing better than the sweet taste of you, darling, is how pretty your pussy sounds when you’re full of my cum.”

“Jesus, Ulysses.” Your reply is half moan, half delirious laughter. “You’re going to kill me, I swear.” 

He sucks a breath at the flex of your muscles around him when you laugh, though he still looks rather pleased with himself. 

“Just returning the favour,” Klaue teases, though there's a sweet edge to his smug grin. 

Giving him a watery smile you tuck your head down to rest your damp cheek against the slope of his shoulder, and when you start to work your hands between his back and the pillow he adjusts so that you can slide them around his broad waist.

Gradually you both grow still, the only movement for several moments is the rise and fall of your chests as you quietly rest against one another, the claw on the cord around his neck pressing into you to leave a mirrored indentation in your skin.

Slowly you nuzzle your cheek along the scruff of his beard, seeking every bit of contact he'll give you, relaxing further when the weight of his arms settles around your waist, and as you sit wrapped in each other you allow for the thought that maybe he's just as reluctant as you to untwine just yet. 

And that maybe you did hear him say it earlier.

“Want to keep you here.”

Still, you don't want to overthink what he meant, so for now you let yourself simply enjoy this, here, tracing the salt of inked skin along his neck with your lips, though perhaps still hoping that, for tonight at least, he’ll want to keep you a little longer. 

When you do eventually separate you're both still content not to get up right away, bodies relaxed and half pressed against one another, a hand splayed across a waist, hip and thigh meeting.

You're not sure when he does get up but as you drift in and out of sleep you hear Klaue in the shower, although you have no interest in moving yourself, not caring about the mess between your thighs enough to do anything about it just yet. You might even admit that you're rather enjoying it.

Eventually he returns to where you lie in a half-twilight, your eyes blinking open when the mattress dips beneath his weight.

“You don't have to leave, darling, but I do need to go,” he says. “I won't be able to come back tonight, but you’re welcome to stay as long as you'd like.”

Pushing yourself up you begin to protest but his mouth quickly finds yours, silencing you with a swipe of his tongue. The kiss is firm and slow, a hand moving to cup your jaw, working with his lips to guide you back down to the pillow.

“It's really no problem to go back,” you start when he releases you, “I can-”

He kisses you again deeper this time, a little more demanding, coaxing your mouth open as his tongue slides against yours until you’re wondering what your reason was for arguing at all, and when he releases you this time you can only look up at him with a glassy-eyed smile.

“Rest.” He murmurs, a thumb drifting across your cheek as you nod.

Before he stands to go, though, he draws your attention to something in his hand that glints in the low light.

“I'll be keeping this here, by the way.”

Your mouth forms a silent “o” as you watch him tuck your vibrator into the drawer of his night table and slide it shut. 

“I forgot about that.” You whisper with a bashful smile.

“So did I,” he admits, his fingers tugging down the sheet that's covering you to reveal your naked form. “And when I did remember, I wasn't really in the mood to share.”

His hand coaxes a knee open, his jaw clenching when he catches the mess still shining between your legs.

“But you might not be so lucky in the future.” 

There's a glint of a warning when his eyes return to yours, but before you can say anything you’re gasping when he suddenly slides two fingers into you, thrusting deep before pulling back out and you moan when, instead of offering them to you, he takes them into his own mouth, a satisfied hum rumbling through his chest at the taste of you mixed with him.

You’re still staring at him half stunned when he stands back up, licking his lips as his eyes sweep appraisingly over your body, as though he's trying to commit the image of you like this to memory.

“And you say I'm a tease. Do you have to go??” You try not to sound too needy, though you're pretty sure the way your hips are shifting again gives you away.

“I'm afraid I do, darling. Believe me, if I didn't...” He gives a rough sigh, frustration plain on his face. “But I'm here for two more days, and I will be taking advantage of them.”

“I certainly hope so,” you reply, a lazy smile curving your lips.

He gives you one last look as he closes behind him, and almost immediately you can feel sleep starting to steal over you again. You don't plan on staying very long, though, and as you turn over and tug the sheet back up you tell yourself you’re just going to close your eyes for a few more minutes, however it's several hours later when you open them again and realize that it’s now late (or early, rather). 

Once you manage to orient yourself in the unfamiliar space you have to laugh, entirely unsurprised at this point that you’d passed out almost immediately.

After showering you actually don't rush to leave, but strange as it is to be here without him you find yourself unable to resist the chance to observe his room a little more closely.

While this obviously isn't a permanent space it still has details of him scattered around; you'd noted a razor and shaving bar next to the sink, one of his khaki shirts hanging on a hook in the bathroom.

You take a peek at a shelf by the door, full of books that for the most part you don't recognize or aren't in English, but you do spot Mary Shelley's “Frankenstein”, a small wood carved stingray next to it. 

Hanging on the wall beside the shelf there's a framed photo of the ocean that looks like it was taken by a 35mm camera. Is it from somewhere he's been? Did he take it himself?

Sitting back down on the bed you intend to check your messages but your mind still wanders. You wonder if he does have somewhere that’s…maybe not home, but a place where pieces of him might be a little more embedded, that looks and smells familiar when he returns from time away. Somewhere that he rests.

You know it's time to head back to your room so you can get ready for the morning shift but you’re hesitant to get up just yet. Glancing at the bed and the mussed sheets, your hand slides over the pillow he'd been leaning against, acutely aware of the scent of him surrounding you, and without really thinking you lean down and press your nose into the creased fabric.

Immediately you're overwhelmed by the heady scent of him that infiltrates your senses: His musk beneath the soap, sweat and a faint trace of oil, all tied up with the still present scent of your mixed arousal, and it's only when you take a shuddering breath that you realize you’d been holding back a sob.

Sitting back up your hand quickly flies to your mouth, breath caught in your chest as you blink away the tears.

Shit.

The intensity of it honestly doesn't surprise you anymore, Klaue makes you feel - seems to revel in making you feel - more than you ever thought you could, teasing away the layers, revealing pieces of you that you didn’t even realize had been hidden. 

“I don’t know what this is.”

“And I don’t know if I can tell you.”

None of this feels any clearer now yet there's a certainty settling in your chest, and it feels like that part of you that's been unsteady since you’d met Klaue in Utrecht is finally starting to right itself. And at the same time, maybe for the first time, you feel something unlocking in you, opening to the possibility of perhaps letting someone else help you find your balance.

So although you have no idea where this path leads, you're starting to accept that you aren't going to be able to stop until you find out.

AN: Once again, thank you so much for reading! 🥰 As I said this next chapter is going to be a beast (already trying to talk myself out of splitting it up again if it comes to that, lol), but I'm looking forward to continuing to exploring things between these two idiots, and I hope you'll come along for the ride!

[tarrensbookmarks]

Marvel

➼ Ulysses Klaue ‣Bringin' Home The Rain by the-eyes-of-andyserkis Ulysses Klaue x FReader [Part One] {Part Two] ‣Think I Need a Devil to Help Me Get Things Right by the-eyes-of-andyserkis Ulysses Klaue x F!Flight Attendant!Reader ‣Kitten's Got Klaue(s) by eupheme Ulysses Klaue x F!Reader ‣Fold Into Me by eupheme Ulysses Klaue x F!Reader

➼ Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier ‣Petrichor by thornsnvultures Bucky Barnes x Plus size!F!Reader

➼ Miguel O'Hara/Spiderman 2099 ‣Miguel x Short!Reader by sunflowersteves ‣You're The Sunflower by fxllfaiiry Grumpy!Miguel x Sunshine!F!Reader ‣Honey-Sweet by fettuccin-e Miguel x F!Reader ‣More Than Enough by moonlight-prose Miguel x F!Reader

➼ Moon Knight ‣The Shades of the Moon by missdictatorme Virgin!Steven Grant x F!Reader ‣To Be Loved by moonlight-prose Steven Grant x F!Reader ‣Subtle Things by moonlight-prose Steven Grant x F!Reader ‣Love in a Single Breath by moonlight-prose Steven Grant x F!Reader ‣Echoes of You by moonlight-prose Steven Grant x F!Reader + phone sex

➼ James Logan Howlett/Wolverine ‣Fisting with Wolverine by missredherring Logan x F!Reader ‣All Day Long by ozarkthedog Logan x F!Reader + object insertion ‣Intoxicating and Intimate by ozarkthedog Logan x F!Reader

dividers by saradika-graphics

[the-eyes-of-andyserkis]

"Bringin' Home the Rain" - Part One - Masterlist

Fandom: MCU - Age of Ultron, Black Panther Pairing: Ulysses Klaue x F!Reader Chapters: 5 Word count: 25.4K (Complete!) Rating: Explicit

Summary: You're no stranger to taking risks, in fact you prefer the unknown, however when you happen to cross paths with a certain black market arms dealer you find it uncharacteristically difficult to find your balance. (aka "Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, he walks into mine.")

Warnings: Explicit Rating, Alcohol, Blood and Injury, Minor Injuries, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Age Difference, Reader is Late 30s, Masturbation, Smut, Smutty Smut, The Smutty Kind of Smut, Smut With Accidental Feelings, PWP, But Also A Bit of Plot, Dirty Talk, Praise Kink, Teasing, Oral (M! Receiving), Reference to Predator/Prey, Vaginal Fingering, Soft Dom, Hair pulling, Begging, Finger Sucking, Spanking, Nipple Play, Oral (F! Receiving), Cock Warming, Mild Size Kink, Daddy Kink (Chapter 5), Unprotected PIV, Rough Sex, Creampie, Overstimulation, Multiple Orgasms, Needy Dom, Aftercare

A/N: Well, here I am with my first foray in the fanfic writing in almost two decades!

In my mind this is set somewhere between "Avengers" and "Age of Ultron". I wanted to give myself somewhere to go since I do have plans beyond this, and while this part can still function as a standalone, I'm currently working on a part two in what is now a series (which I have mostly figured out)! More updates on that as I chip away, but I'm hoping to be able to post Chapter One in the next few weeks!

Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy. 😊

[Masterlist - Part Two - Salvation is a Deep Dark Well] ✨ [AO3 Link]

Title is from the song "Bringin' Home the Rain" by The Builders and and Butchers

Chapter One - "Storm" - 2.8K

Chapter Two - "Tides" - 2.8K

Chapter Three - "Demons" - 5.9K

Chapter Four - "Flame" - 5.1K

Chapter Five - "Foundations" - 8.8K

[mydarllinglover]

Alone || Sharing Stories

Previous

"Circle around. Don't let them slip by." Voices whispered, filling the air.

Dog barked at the noise, Natalia grabbed hold of him, keeping him close to her as they tried to find the unknown sounds.

"Keep them together."

"You die now."

Walkers loomed towards them through the rain and fog.

"Go. Now." Michonne ordered, quietly.

A woman with a bandage around her head picked up the mask, whilst Aaron and Daryl lifted Jesus's body, to take back with them to be buried.

Natalia attacked the walkers that got too close to them.

"Go. I'll cover you." Michonne told her, as the others left.

An walker with a knife went to sneak up on Michonne, but Natalia got there quicker, stabbing the female walker in the head.

They both peered down on the "walker." Before meeting each others eye, nodding.

"Come on! Let's go!" Daryl called for them, he then locked the gates of the cemetery behind them.

"So you managed to climb over the gate, huh?" Natalia spoke to Michonne, as they walked, the sun was up, it was the next morning.

"See you managed to find your way back home."

"As you can see, it was a short stay."

"I saw them, the kids, hear Evie's gonna become Enid's second."

"I didn't know that."

"She's a good kid, they all are." Michonne spoke. "The baby, is that..."

"Yep. Archie, Archie Carl, he's ours." Natalia answered.

"Oh, so you guys were busy, in the woods." Michonne smirked at the woman.

"Who are these guys?" She pointed at the two women ahead.

"Yumiko and Magna." Michonne interrupted their muttering to each other.

"Ah, part of the group that my niece brought back."

"You the famous Aunt Nat who would've fought for our stay?" Magna looked over her shoulder at the woman.

"Who the hell would even think about doing this?" Yumiko rambled, passing the mask thing to Magna.

"I suspect some vessel filled with a chunky salsa of abnormal impulses and metastasized rage." Eugene gave his input, as Michonne and Natalia helped him walk.

"It's full on bat-shit." Magna shook her head.

"You think there's more?" Aaron asked.

"Yeah." Daryl nodded, looking around.

"So, what do we do?" Yumiko asked.

"Right now, keep moving." Michonne told her.

Once they got to the horses, they were able to put Jesus across it, to get him back with them.

Daryl looked back at the two women, who were riding the other horse.

"Judith vouched for 'em, so do I." Michonne spoke.

"All right." He grunted.

"It's gonna mean a lot to them." She continued. "Bringin' him back. Burying him."

"Sorry I couldn't do that for you." Daryl apologised, even though Natalia had been pushing onto him that that wasn't his place, and he didn't need to, he never listened.

"I'm sorry I couldn't do it for all of us." Michonne said. "Thank you, both of you. For trying to find him. And... for after."

"What matters now, is that we're together, now, that you were there." Natalia told her.

"Thanks for saving my ass back there." Michonne smiled.

"Just paying back the favour, 'Sides, I wouldn't let my best friend go like that." Natalia returned the smile, holding hands for a brief moment.

Dogs barking started again.

"We got some tails." Magna said.

"The living kind or original recipe?" Eugene asked.

"Let's find out." Daryl decided. "Good Dog."

They had got to a bridge.

Walkers were making their way towards them.

Daryl had shot at their legs, working out which was a walker and which was pretend, he found out as the man let out cries, the walkers quick to take him down for them as they tore the man apart.

A few turned away as others continued forward, then one man brandished his knife, running for Michonne, who sliced off his arm, stabbing him in the chest.

Natalia went for the girl who attempted to walk away, knowing she wouldn't get out of this, she dropped to her knees, hands up in the air.

"Nat! Wait" Daryl stopped her from killing the girl, ripping the mask off, revealing what looked to be a teenager with long dark hair.

"Please..." She sobbed. "Please don't kill me. Please."

Natalia dragged her knife back with her boot, slowly crouching down to pick it up without taking her eyes off the girl.

"How many?" Michonne asked, catching the mask Daryl tossed her.

"Please... you killed them all. It's just me now." The girl cried.

Natalia held her own knife to the girls throat.

"I don't believe you." Michonne spoke for her.

"There ain't no time. We'll take her with us." Daryl spoke, spotting the herd closing in on them.

"Get up, slow." Natalia breathed, grabbing the bit of rope that was handed to her, tying the girls hands together behind her back.

"Hey, you try anything, you won't have to pretend." Michonne threatened.

"Let's go. Come on." Daryl encouraged, taking the girl from his wife's grasp.

They soon made their way back to the Hilltop, the girl had a white bandana around her face, blocking her view as she sat on top of the horse.

The people of Hilltop gathered to welcome their leader back.

Tara and Enid left the house, with the twins following behind the young woman, Archie was on Tara's hip. 

Daryl, Yumiko and Magna helped get Jesus down, as Michonne and Natalia yanked the girl off the horse, dragging her towards the cells.

"This who did it?" Tammy- Rose asked, once the people of Hilltop had realised Jesus's fate, their relief and happiness quickly vanishing

"No. One of her people." Michonne answered.

"You locking her up?" She continued to pester with questions.

"We're getting answers." Tara told her.

"And then what? Tara, Jesus trusted you, so we're all lookin' to you now. But people are gonna want justice for this. And when that time comes, we're gonna look to you for that, too." 

"I know." She promised, following the pair, Daryl had also caught up with them.

"Evie?" Natalia gasped, spotting her daughter in one of the cells, Henry was in the other.

Daryl opened the door, pulling her out.

"Get inside." He told the other girl, pushing her in.

"Daryl?" Henry called.

"Evie, what the hell are you doing here? What are the both of you doing here?" Natalia looked at Henry through the bars as she assessed her daughter.

"Drunk and disorderly, you can either bunk her up with Henry, or call her sentence." Tara told her.

"What's going on?" Henry continued to look for answers.

"Jesus is dead." Daryl spoke, glaring at Evie, she was supposed to be babysitting, and now she's being sentenced for drunk and disorderly, with Henry of all people.

Tara and Michonne dealt with the other girl as Daryl unlocked Henry's door, pushing Evie inside.

"Both of you shut up, we'll talk about this later." He growled, as they turned to watch the interrogation.

"How many more of you are there?" Michonne pressed, when she kept bullshitting.

"They're all dead." She cried. "My family's dead. Please just stop."

"Not until you start answering our questions."

"Your name. Start with your name." Tara said.

"I told you, I don't have one." She answered. "None of us do. None of us did. That's not how it worked."

"How did it work?"

"Why do you wear their skins?" Daryl asked. "Answer!" He demanded, when she was quiet.

"They were good people." She sobbed harder. "We were good. It's what we did to live. That's-- That's all we wanted to do. Live."

"Bullshit." Natalia scoffed.

"Oh, you're saying you had to do this?" Tara asked.

"You wouldn't understand." She shook her head.

"Then make us understand. What the hell were you doing?" Michonne tried again.

"We, we were just trying to see if they were good people, too. But then you attacked us, and now they're dead."

"We attacked you?" Natalia took a step forward. "Sweetheart, we were tryna find our friend, and you and your "good people" ambushed us." 

"They're dead. They're all dead. And I don't have anything." She cried for herself, but no one was buying it.

Michonne clamped a hand on the back of her chair, stopping her from rocking backwards.

"What did your people know about us?" She asked. "Do they know about this place?"

"I don't know."

"Huh?"

"I don't know. I don't know anything. They didn't tell me anything. Please stop asking me. Just leave me alone, please. Please just leave me alone."

They sighed in defeat, leaving the cell's.

"I don't trust a word coming out of her mouth." Michonne started.

"She's a good actor, I'll give her that." Natalia sighed.

"We'll get it out of her." Daryl promised.

"We try again in the morning." Tara decided.

"You'll have to do it without me." Michonne told them. "Taking my people back first thing. Can't risk them not knowing about this back home."

"Okay." Tara nodded. "Thanks, for being here and for helping. That group you brought in, I'm gonna let them know that they can stay. I guess that's my call now. That's what he would've done."

"Thanks, Tara."

She nodded, heading off to go deal with her duties, and to probably go check on her girlfriend.

"Keeping her here is a risk." Michonne told the pair who were still there. "You both know that."

"Yeah, I know."

"Her people, you reckon they'll come for her, I mean, she looks Evie's age, think she's got a parent, someone looking after her?" Natalia asked.

"That's what I'm worried about." Michonne admitted.

"I'll get her to talk." Daryl nodded.

"If she doesn't... You know what you have to do."

"We'll get her to talk." Natalia stepped in. "I'm gonna go check on the kids, you find out what the hell Evie and Henry did last night." Natalia told Daryl, hugging Michonne.

"On it."

"Hey, come meet, Archie, officially." She smiled at her friend, pulling her away.

Rosita had been watching the twins and baby, whilst Siddiq fixed Eugene's knee.

"Mommy!" Daisy called, spotting her as her and Michonne walked into the infirmary.

"Mommy!" Bambi repeated as they both swarmed to hug her.

"Hey, hey guys, hanging out with Aunt Ro and Eugene and Siddiq?"

"Mommy, Siddiq popped Eugene's knee in and it went phew and it cracked and it was so gross!" Daisy smiled excitedly.

"Glad I could be of service of entertainment to your younglings after saving my life, today." Eugene nodded at her.

"Oh, wow, so having fun, then?" Natalia laughed, taking the baby that was handed to her. "Thanks, Rosita, Thanks Eugene."

"'Course, anything for these lil guys." She patted the twins heads. "And that bundle of cuteness."

"Hey, Bam, Daisy, I want you to meet another one of Mommy's friends, this is Aunt Michonne."

"Hi." They waved at her.

"Hey, guys, I used to know you when you were this big." She smiled at Archie.

"Oh, yeah, I remember that." Daisy lied.

"No, you don't." Bambi scowled at her. "Mommy, Daisy's telling fibbers, again."

"Hey, guys, why don't you go find Uncle Aaron, ask him to show you the animals." Natalia told them.

"Okay!"

"My kids, everybody, you gotta love them." Natalia commented, when the girls ran out the door. "Anyway, this is my favourite child, because he can't walk or talk yet."

"Awe, come here, Archie." Michonne let out a sigh, taking the baby, who apparently loved cuddles with everybody, something they discovered very quickly, after getting to The Hilltop.

After Daryl and Natalia left to go rescue Eugene, Tara had begun passing the baby around as though it were a meet and greet back in the day.

"I didn't even know you guys would ever have another kid." Rosita folded her arms across her chest.

"We didn't think we would either, it was an accident, y'know what I mean. But I'm grateful, because of you." She kissed Archie's cheek.

"I think after the third kid, you gotta stop using the accident excuse." Rosita chuckled.

"It was, I swear." She put her hands up. "Y'know, I thought he was a girl the whole time, until I gave birth, the lil sneak."

"How did you and Daryl manage that, that's really dangerous, Nat." Michonne told her.

"Oh, Daryl wasn't there, just me, I was in a cabin, so it was fine, and Evie left to go find him and the twins, but it was fine, we're both alive, and I've dealt with worse, it was a piece of cake."

"Have yet to work out if you are terrifying or truly an amazement." Siddiq shook his head.

"I prefer being acknowledged as both." She shrugged.

"Neither of 'em will talk." Daryl told her, catching up, after putting the two teens back in their joint cell.

They were watching Aaron show the twins the horses, Natalia hugged Archie to her.

"Really?" She asked.

"Yup, won't give me names, where they got it from, but they're real sorry, think Henry's more sorry than Eve, she was more pissed at him."

"Good to know, we really gonna leave her in there?"

"Rules of the Hilltop, she wanted to come here and get lit first chance she got, that's her problem."

"Yeah, you're right, I just, I can't believe she would do something like that, y'know? We didn't raise her like that, hell, I think the last time I had alcohol, was the day before I met her."

"You mean, when we had spaghetti instead of going to that party, an' you got hammered."

"In my defence, it was my birthday." She ignored Daryl's furrowed brows at her confession, changing the topic, quickly. "What are we gonna do about that girl? The other one."

"I'll talk to her, find out what she knows." Daryl shrugged, taking Archie out of her arms. "And if that fails, thinking maybe you could. You're the best judge of character we got."

"I don't want to trust her, I don't want to figure her out and find out why she's walking around with walker faces on, unless it's something that's gonna harm us or our people."

"But you do want to." He finished her train of thought. "She's a kid, and something's nagging at you, I know."

"I think you know me a bit too well." She folded her arms across her chest. "It kinda bugs me actually, If I'm being honest." 

Jesus's funeral was held the next day, it was a tough conversation to have with the twins, especially considering they would have to explain that the man they met with the funny name, just the day before, had come back dead, and what a funeral even was.

But for two five year olds, they had managed to stay very respectful, listening carefully and being quiet throughout the whole sermon, even though Daryl and Natalia were mourning their friend, they were both very proud of the twins, they just hoped this was the last funeral they would be attending.

After, Daryl had left to go deal with the girl in the cell, to get some answers.

After setting Archie down for a nap, and giving the girls an activity, she found Daryl sat outside the cell window.

She took a seat beside him, hearing three voices talking.

"I'm Henry, she's Evie."

"Henry, my dad's seriously going to kill you if you don't shut up." Evie's voice hissed.

"Evie relax, he's not here. No reason to be rude to her." Henry told her.

"I'm Lydia." The girl ignored her worry.

"My parents, they don't wanna hurt you, they're good people too, but, your people gave us a reason to feel threatened, just be honest with my dad, and it'll turn out better for you." Evie told her. "If not, then it's only self defence."

Daryl and Natalia silently low-fived, that was their girl.

They had sat out there most of the day, listening to the three teens talk, how Lydia opened up, told them her story.

When Natalia returned from checking on the kids, Daryl would quietly fill her in on anything important, but only when he felt he had to.

"I remember that look in his eye. Still see it. How cold it is. Was." Lydia corrected herself, telling them about her father. "Why am I even telling you two this?"

"Beats the quiet. Beats being alone."

"Alone, seriously?" Evie scoffed.

"I've never been alone." Lydia continued. "My people travelled in groups with the dead. I miss the sounds... the smell..."

"Not gonna lie, walking around in dead people's skins is pretty messed up."

"I've been covered in guts of the dead, and I would still prefer that over wearing their faces." Evie kicked something as she sighed.

"Thinking this place isn't gonna fall like every other place... that's messed up."

"It's not, because it won't, these people worked hard for this, they didn't take any easy routes out." The blonde got defensive, She had also dealt with shit during the war, things she couldn't forget.

"Evie, chill out." Henry told her.

"Your dad's an asshole like mine." Lydia spoke up. "All you did was sneak out. Is it even that hard? Are there a lot of guards posted here?"

"We're not dumb enough to fall for that." Evie raised a brow. "And my dad's not an asshole. You're just a stranger, he's an actual good person."

"Your dad doesn't even wanna be here, he's only doing it for your mom and my mom." Henry told her. "That's why he had you living in the woods for years, with your sisters and brother."

"That's not why." She scowled at him again.

"I thought you said both your moms died." Lydia stood up, looking at the pair as they sat on opposite sides of the small bed.

"Second mom, I mean." Henry corrected. "They're both tough. Not somebody you want to mess with."

"I used to call mine my back up." Evie scoffed, "She's been my mom longer than my real mom was, same with my dad, I barely remember them, my first dad, he used to have a crush on my mom, and so did my second dad, guess he got it in favour that the first died in her arms." She laughed.

"Hey, what happened to your dad?" Henry asked Lydia.

"My dad was a stupid man. My mom, though, she kept me alive. Kept me safe. She's a lot like your mom's. You don't mess with her, either."

They had no choice but to interfere when Henry started talking about the Kingdom, even when Evie kept telling him to shut up.

"Hey. What's going on?" Henry asked.

"You been pardoned." Natalia told him, unlocking the door of the cell door. "Both of you. Let's go."

"Mom." Evie started.

"Let's go." She pushed both of them forward.

Daryl was waiting for him at the top, grabbing hold of the boy and yanking him forward.

"What the hell's wrong with you?" He circled the boy. "Huh? Telling her about the Kingdom? What if there's more of her people out there? You got family at the Kingdom."

"I'm sorry. Okay? I didn't think that it would..."

"I told you!" Evie yelled.

"Wait. You were listening?" He caught on.

"Yeah, of course we were, me and Nat, few of the others, we've been switching off, seeing what she'd say to you."

"You were using us."

"Yeah and it was workin', too." Daryl stared coldly at him.

"She's a good person who got messed up out there. And she's right about you. You know that? You're an asshole."

"Henry, shut up." Evie pushed him back. "You were being stupid, what for some girl that you just met? What happened to Enid?"

"Oh, yeah, that's why you were sucking faces with Gage. I told you we should've stopped drinking, but no Evie never wants to listen." He pointed at her, who's face had got completely red, as she backed down. "You want answers, get 'em yourself." He looked back to the girls parents, before walking away.

"Evie? Who's Gage?" Natalia demanded.

"No one, just.. leave it alone." She scampered as well, before her parents could interrogate her too.

Daryl was even more angry, when he went down to talk to Lydia.

Natalia decided to spend the remainder of the day with Archie, taking him in, appreciating him, soaking up how little he still was, and when the girls were done with their chores, they joined in, she gave the teenagers their space, knowing they needed it.

At night time, Archie was kicking up a fuss, whilst the twins were trying to sleep, Natalia guessed he was missing his dad, considering he'd barely seen him for the past couple of days.

She left the trailer, the one her and Daryl had got married in when they escaped all those years ago, to get some fresh air, trying to soothe her sons cry's.

"It's alright, shh, lovey, it's okay." She tried, bouncing him as she went in search for her husband.

When she had found him, he pulled her to a stop, covering her mouth as he pointed ahead, three people were scampering around, whispering, Evie, Henry and Lydia, until Lydia demanded to go back to the cell.

"If my dad catches us, we're all gonna be in so much trouble." Evie complained, as they rushed past, not even catching the two adults.

"He's not gonna catch us, we're putting Lydia back, so it's fine, right Lydia?"

She didn't give a response.

Natalia was the one to give the girl her breakfast, finding the two other teens right where she expected.

She had moved silently in order to not wake them. She noticed how Henry and Lydia were holding hands, and Evie curled up by herself, away from Lydia's cell.

"Ahem." She cleared her throat.

"Mom." Evie gasped.

"Mrs Dixon, this was my idea, she didn't wanna be alone, so we were just keeping her company." Henry sat up.

"Go." She nodded her head. "Go help your father with the kids"

"Will do, sorry mom." Evie kissed her cheek as she scrambled past, Henry followed.

"My ear hurts. Everything hurts." Lydia told her. "Does Daryl still have those pills?"

"You should know something, my husbands the soft one, after what you tried with him, I'm not falling for your bullshit." Natalia sighed, setting down the tray of food, grabbing a seat to sit down in.

"My mom's not coming for me." Lydia said. "None of them are. If someone dies or gets taken or whatever, they move on. Like they never existed. That's how it's always been. They don't come into contact with big groups unless they don't have a choice. That's why I-- I was trying to find out everything I could about you. 'Cause then when I escaped. I'd have something to give them. A reason for them to take me back."

"Your mom needs a reason to take you back?" Natalia asked, tilting her head.

She looked down.

"Think our moms would've got on pretty well." Natalia commented. "Except, my mom was clean, very clean, she wouldn't of been walking around with masks of dead people. She would've washed her hands with me if she could. She never hit me, never often, only when I deserved it, to make me better, she hated it too, because she loved me, and it hurt her more to cause me pain, but, she was mostly the type of parent that liked to pretend her kid didn't exist, unless it was something she could shove in other people's faces, prove to them that even as a single mother, she was better than them."

"What about your dad?" She asked.

"My dad was my best friend, and I was his, until he died, when I was four, allergies of all things, sometimes, I used to wonder if my mom did it, if she killed my dad just to get rid of him, but she loved my dad more than she liked me."

"Did she make it?"

"I don't know, she went on a cruise, with my step-dad, right before shit hit the fan, she's most likely dead, or she could still be on that boat, just sailing around the world, avoiding all this shit." Natalia finished talking about herself, opening herself up had done the job, she could see it on Lydia's face. "Where are our people, and don't bother lying to me, I can tell."

"If my mom found them... I can't think of a reason she'd keep them alive. Sorry." She sighed.

Natalia caved, tugging out the bottle of pills Daryl had handed her when she left, moving to drop them in the girls hand, then grabbed a spoon full of water, handing it to her.

The girl graciously accepted it, throwing the pills back.

"See what happens when you co-operate, you earn things." Natalia took the spoon back. "She got a camp somewhere?"

"Near the guard bridge. Maybe a mile east. But we don't-- They don't stay in one place for long."

"What you told my daughter, and Henry, about your family, were you telling the truth?"

"I thought all of it was." She answered honestly. "I needed it to be. But I had it all mixed up. It was a lie, but... the lie wasn't mine."

"Your mom told you it all, like she was the good guy, right? Until you believed it."

"Deep down I knew, I knew what she was. I knew what she did." Lydia agreed, sadly. "My dad was my best friend, too. But then, he was against the wall, scared. And my mom was there. Had that cold look in her eye. Then she-- She got her knife. And then she-."

"I know." Natalia sighed gently, soothingly. "It's okay. I know what you mean, that's alright."

"I'm sorry I couldn't help you." She apologised. "I'm sorry I wasted your time."

"You've done more than enough, Lydia, don't worry about it. Eat your food. Evie is a talented doctor, get her to check you over, considering you seem to know her quite well, on your midnight strolls."

She then left the cells.

"So this whole time. Lydia's mom made her think it was her fault her dad died?" Henry badgered her, as soon as she left the cells. "Why would a mom do that to a kid?"

"Sometimes, people end up with kids when they shouldn't, just how it goes."

"So what happens now?" Henry asked. "Can she stay here with us?"

"It's not up to me, come on, get Lydia some fresh clothes, I'm gonna report back to Daryl and Tara, see what we can do about scoping out that camp. Maybe after you can point out to me who this Gage person is."

"He's an asshole." Henry gave his opinion as he walked the other way. "I told Evie she could do better."

Next

[ak8shi]

FWB HQ Boys: In which you beat the player at his own game!

warnings: Time skip spoilers, mentions of sex(all characters are 18+), stupid people in love

a/n: I love one(1) libra man!! I love Atsumu’s character and the way he’s developed in hq and I think that this is a very probable way in which he finds love !! thank you all so much for loving the first installment so much <3 I-I went a little overboard with this one but ,, xoxo Chlo

━Miya Atsumu

Let’s start with a little background; I think we can all agree Atsumu is and always has been popular with the ladies

…But that doesn’t necessarily mean the ladies are popular with him LMAO

He’s truly the emotionally unavailable heartbreaker and he built himself quite a reputation without even knowing it

This dude doesn’t even really fuck around with girls, maybe a few meaningless flings his senior year but besides that, he only has eyes for one lady and her name begins with the letter V and ends with ball

LET’S GO

So you’ve known Atsumu for years unfortunately,,, and you surely know about how he treats the girls that approach him with confessions and boxes of chocolates

You don’t approve of it at all, but your family is practically family with the Miya’s and you’ve literally spent every major holiday with them since you can remember

You: Atsumu would it kill you to show some respect towards these women

Atsumu: If she breathes, she’s a thot

….smh… a fucking mess someone please put him in his place

However your mom was always happy that you could be around the twins since you were an only child, and she loved the idea of you having two brothers who would protect you from the evils of college men little did she know,,

You hate to admit it and we hate to see it, but you started to develop a crush on him your freshman year of high school.. you suppose it was because you spent so much time with him and you saw parts of him that a lot of people didn’t get to see I mean you also saw him with his jersey on and off pretty often how could you resist

For example, every Halloween you had a sleep-over tradition where you watched horror films after trick-or-treating and Atsumu was scared SHITLESS every year, I’m talking ripping your favorite blanket off you and burying his face in it to block out the movie, he would threaten you and Osamu about telling people at school about it

Him, a 17 year old teen standing in your doorway at 3:40 am: c-can I sleep on yer floor I LOVE HIM SKAKAKAJSW

You, filming him and sending it to Suna on snap: sure Atsumu <3

You found yourself entranced when he automatically gave you his school cardigan on the walks home from school when it was cold or raining, and completely enraptured by his cute little accent

Atsumu: did ya know yer a fuckin’ idiot bimbo stupid butt crack for not bringin’ yer jacket

Atsumu: yer lucky I’m a gentleman

You: ...

Osamu: god…..

It was naïve to think he would ever reciprocate feelings especially with his entire life being his volleyball career, and you convinced yourself it was a tiny high school crush and eventually you managed to repress it

Too much was on the line; you didn’t want to make both of your families awkward, and you needed to focus on your studies as one of the top students at Inarizaki yes ma’am

Besides you loved him like family right ???

RIGHT ???

The twins are a year older than you, and Atsumu had just signed to play professionally for MSBY!!

You at his official signing: wow, looks like you don’t have to resort to living on the streets after all

Him: yeah ❤️

You kind of forgot about how you felt about him since you weren’t seeing either of the twins consistently anymore with how busy both of you were; you stayed in contact, but nothing really serious

It was weird because you were still in high school while the boys were experiencing college and doing their own thing… you drifted apart honestly and you felt a bit awkward talking to them sometimes, you felt like you were bothering them Atsumu would probably tease you and say that you were

Another year passed and you were heading to college! You are living your best life, meeting new people, and then you got the text from your mom that you were doing Thanksgiving with the Miya’s,, you weren’t sure if that meant you would be seeing both twins but something about the possibility of seeing Atsumu again made something stir in your chest

Fall break hit and you found out both the twins and you were back at home since Atsumu also had a rare break from training and his regular professional season

You were helping Osamu out at his shop, since it was his first time dealing with the overflow of Thanksgiving season as a new business owner

You’re helping close the shop, when you hear the door jingle; you turn to say a polite “sorry we’re closed for the day,” but you’re met with what seems like a new and improved and muscular Atsumu OH NO

He looks amazing and so much older than you remember??? And he’s thinking the same thing about you!!! Like wow she’s changed a lot since she started college, I’ve missed a lot apparently ??

You immediately fall into his arms, inhaling his familiar scent, Osamu rolling his eyes at the two of you and telling you to get lost before he yaks

You leave the shop with Atsumu, inviting him to your house; as you enter, you catch your mom leaving to pick up some last-minute groceries for the Thanksgiving meal

She’s acts way happier to see Atsumu than she acted when you came home LMAO later she doesn’t shut up about how handsome and manly he’s become, but you just pull him away to your room and lock your door behind you

He goes to sit on your flower-patterned comforter from your childhood, newly washed thanks to your mother

Atsumu: so…. what’s up with you..?

You can’t control the churning of your stomach all of a sudden; you can’t remember him ever looking at you this way, like he’s looking at a woman

The feelings come rushing back, and literally all you can think about is kissing him

You lean back on your dresser in front of the bed, and a wave of need to express yourself washes over you,

“Atsumu, I missed you.”

You don’t even know what’s happening until you’re trapped in between Atsumu and the door, his mouth gently pressed against yours, his warm hands caressing your hips

He asks if this is okay, and all you can do is moan back a yes in response

Let’s just say your mom might need to clean your comforter again lmaoo

It’s complicated and you’re both kinda confused after… like no one admitted that they had feelings for the other and its not like either of you can just disappear from the other’s life like a random hook-up

BUT BOTH OF YOU ARE TOO STUPID AND STUBBORN TO REALIZE YOU LIKE EACH OTHER AND WANT A RELATIONSHIP I-

Like he’s literally cuddling you and kissing you and asking you about college in your childhood bedroom naked what

And it ISN’T uncomfortable at all

It feels so right to be in his arms, and you’re in disbelief about what happened??? What even like how have you gone all this time without doing anything honestly

You suddenly hear your dad pull into the garage, and you’re both up and putting your clothes on as fast as possible

It’s embarrassing when you look back on it, how long the hook-ups went on, but this was a common occurrence whenever the two of you were home

It was basically like you were dating and doing long-distance without the label

IT WENT ON FOR ALMOST A YEAR 🤡

Osamu during next year’s Thanksgiving meal: I think we should go around the table and say what we’re thankful for, I’ll go first. I’m thankful that two people at this table are getting laid despite the fact that I’m not 😊

Your parents:

Atsumu, in many ways, is oblivious to what his feelings mean after not really being in any real relationships and blocking out all the girls during high school,

He would find himself texting you after each of his matches, hoping you had watched him and his heart would flutter when you complimented him on his sets

Atsumu on the phone with you: yeah I’m just chillin’ with the boys rn 😏

Sakusa: get the fuck off my bed and get off the phone with your girlfriend so I can sleep

Atsumu: she’s not my girlfr-

Sakusa, talking loud enough for you to hear: I literally don’t care but don’t you have her picture saved as your lockscreen?

He tried to hook-up with someone when he was away playing a tournament in the summer, but it wasn’t the same and it was only good if he imagined it was you

He never did it again and before coming home for Christmas, he called Osamu to finally ask him what to do

Osamu: about time you meathead

Osamu literally spells it out to this man; he has been and is in love with you and he needs to do something about it asap before someone else snatched you away

Atsumu: why didn’t ya just say somethin’ ? Ya know I’m not good at these typa things !

I can’t he’s something else

So it’s Christmas, and he asks if you would want to go see the town square’s Christmas lights with him

Of course you say yes, you’re just really excited to finally see him after so long !!

Atsumu with rosy cheeks ugh spare me

He picks you up and greets you with a kiss to your temple, and he has a little gift baggie with him; he hands it to you to open and you pull out his old school cardigan

“I-I thought maybe you would want it since ya always stole it from me in high school, and since I’m half-way ‘round the world most of the time”

It smells just like him, you thank him with a kiss to his cheek and you tuck it away in your bedroom before leaving hand-in hand to see the colorful lights dazzling in the night sky

You talked to Osamu about your relationship with his brother and you want Atsumu to make a move honestly; you want to be sure he wants this since you’ve literally liked him since high school

You’re not sure what you are expecting, but when Atsumu has you in his arms, your back against his chest and his chin on your shoulder as you watch the Christmas carolers, you don’t expect him to whisper into your ear,

“hey, will ya be my girl?”

You turn around to give him a surprised look, his hand bringing yours to his mouth to plant a soft kiss on your knuckles this is his favorite place to kiss fight me

After getting over your dream-like shock, you say yes and pull him into a kiss

I’m crying he tells you afterwards that you were his girl since the first time he met you, we’ll let him have this one because did he really know until like a week ago? no

Whew, all of your friends and family let out a relieved sigh when they hear the news LMAO

Suna, hearing about Atsumu finally making it official: thank god I was about to start blackmailing him with those Halloween videos

[shire-snail]

THE UNTAMED PLAYLIST EPISODE GUIDE: (Part 4/5)

**all gifs are used with artist permission, thank you artists!!**

EP 31: "Bringin' Home the Rain" by the Builders and the Butchers

(qiongqi ambush, jin zixuan dies, wens' sacrifice)

"There's no one here to tell you about the depth of the water, or the trouble that you're in."

gif credit: @thejingshi

Alt 1: "Drawn to the Blood" by Sufjan Stevens: "I am drawn to the blood/ The flight of a one-winged dove/ How... how did this happen?" "For my prayer has always been love... What did I do to deserve this?"

Alt 2: "I AM SATAN" by Field Medic "I don't wanna be the darkness anymore/ Rain chipping at your windows/ My fingers are the storm." "I don't walk with the devil/ I'm him."

EP 32: "Heel Turn 2 - Jordan Lake" by the Mountain Goats

(nightless city pt.1, wwx on the roof vs lwj, yanli dies)

"Drift down into the new dark light/ Without any reservations/ You've found my breaking point/ Congratulations."

gif credit @gusucloud

Alt: "Achilles Come Down" by Gang of Youths "Just humor us, Achilles/ Achilles, come down/ Won't you get up off the roof?" "You're scaring us and all of us, some of us love you, Achilles/ It's not much but there's proof." "Remember the pact of our youth." "Where you go, I'm going/ So jump and I'm jumping/ Since there is no me without you."

EP 33: "Genesis 30:3" by the Mountain Goats

(nightless city pt.2, the fall, the morning 13 years later, wandering cloud recesses)

"Open up the promise of the day/ Drive the dark things away/ I will do what you ask me to do/ Because of how I feel about you."

gif credit: @gusucloud

Alt 1: "anything" by Adrienne Lenker: "Didn't you believe in me?"

Alt 2: "Never Quite Free" by the Mountain Goats: "It's okay to find the faith the saunter forward/ With no fear of shadows spreading where you stand/ And you'll breathe easier just knowing that the worst is all behind you/ And the waves that tossed the raft all night have set you on dry land." "It's so good to learn that from right here/ the view goes on forever/ And you'll never want for comfort/ And you'll never be alone."

EP 34: "A Complete List of Fears Age 5-28 (Approx)" by The Yellow Dress

(gratuitous hiding behind lwj, saving jl from nie tombs, meeting jc)

"Oh, and mainly losing you. These days, mainly losing you."

gif credit: @wangxiians

Alt 1: "communist love song" by Soltero: "If you would stick up for me in the face of great adversity/ Know that I would do the same/ Know we are the same." "If you would stick up for me/ Speak kindly and poetically/ You can be my personal ambassador to the world."

Alt 2: "Ode to a Conversation Stuck in Your Throat" by Del Water Gap: "I used to call you my best friend/ Way back before you were my everything." "Is it okay/ That I don't want anybody else touching you/ Like I do, like I do, like me?"

EP 35: "Nightswimming" by R.E.M.

(carried in the moonlight, questioning nh, flute gift)

"Nightswimming deserves a quiet night/ It's not like years ago/ The fear of getting caught/ Of recklessness and water."

"September's coming soon, pining for the moon/ What if there were two, side by side in orbit."

gif credit @wangxiians

Alt 1: "Take it From Me" by the Weepies: "What can I compare you to?/ A window the sun shines through/ Maybe the silver moon, a smile rising."

Alt 2: "Tried to Tell You" by The Weather Station: "You were so afraid/ To try to pull apart/ The endless rain/ You thought of as your heart." "You never felt the tide/ Of the moon pulling closer/ I tried to tell you/ That is the way that you want her." "Some days there might be/ Nothing you encounter/ To stand behind the fragile idea/ That anything matters." "Would it kill you to believe in your pleasure?"

EP 36: "Steamroller" by Phoebe Bridgers

(chicken thievery and drunk lwj mischief, emotional q&a)

"You're my partner in crime/ You're the feeling I get when I'm feeling fine."

"Part of me wants you/ But most of me needs you/ So I won't fall unless you ask me to."

gif credit: @wangxiians

Alt 1: "It'll All Work Out" by Phoebe Bridgers: "When she needed me, I wasn't around/ That's the way it goes, it'll all work out." "There were times apart, and times together/ I was pledged to her for worse or better/ When it mattered most, I let her down/ That's the way it goes, it'll all work out."

Alt 2: "Me & My Dog" by boygenius: "We had a great day/ Even though we forgot to eat/ And you had a bad dream/ And we got no sleep/ Cuz we were kissing." "I had a fever until I met you/ Now you make me cool." "I never said I'd be alright/ Just thought I could hold myself together/ When I couldn't breathe I went outside/ Don't know why I thought it'd be any better." "I cried at your show with the teenagers." "I dream about it/ And I wake up falling."

EP 37: "Harbor Me" by the Mountain Goats

(coffin town part 1, juniors field trip, sizhui feelin safe, wwx vs xy)

"Living in fear until you come back/ Sound of the key, like an orchestral cue/ Into the daylight, thank god it's you"

gif credit: @wangxiians

Alt: "Medicines" by The Taxpayers: "We came across a pharmacy with its windows busted out/ Pushed on through the broken glass and had ourselves a look around/ The medicines, the medicines, that esculent macabre for the mouth."

EP 38: "Boy With a Coin" by Iron & Wine

(coffin town pt.2, empathy, songxian breakup)

"A boy with a coin he crammed in his jeans/ Then making a wish, he tossed in the sea/ And walked to a town that all of us burn/ When God left the ground to circle the world."

gif credit: @gusucloud

Alt: "Murder Song" by Sammy Copely: "Lovers lost between the lines." "You have killed the thing you loved/ And now you have to die."

EP 39: "Comfort" by Deb Talan

(mourning xxc, lantern date, lxc arrives)

"So cry, why not, we all do, then turn to one you love/ And smile a smile that lights up all the room."

"Take comfort, there is comfort, take comfort wherever you can."

gif credit: @wangxiians

Alt 1: "The Messenger" by Linkin Park: "When life leaves us blind/ Love keeps us kind."

Alt 2: "By the Time it Gets Dark" by Yo La Tengo: "Baby every cloud has a silver lining/ Baby every dog really has his day/ And it matters to me to see you smiling/ Why don't we blow all your cares away?" "Maybe, by the evening we'll be laughing/ Just wait and see all the changes there'll be/ By the time it gets dark."

EP 40: "Elephant" by Samia

(return to carp tower, bonding with jl, paperman flirting)

"I swore I wouldn't end up here again."

"You cannot make everyone happy/ But you can force a smile on their face."

gif credit: @wangxiians

Alt 1: "Ashes On Your Eyes" by Deb Talan: "Now you only dream in peaceful blue/ The morning doesn't even scare you anymore/ You are a phoenix with your feathers still a little wet/ Baby, the ashes just look pretty on your eyes."

Alt 2: "Ghosts in the Graveyard" by Sincere Engineer: "There's plenty of fish in this graveyard/ There's plenty of ghosts in the sea/ And now I'm sinking quickly with this concrete heart/ I'm yelling 'You can't catch me, You can't catch me.'"

Eps 1-10, 11-20, 21-30, 31-40, 41-50

Playlist link: Standard or Extended

[blackroseguzzi]

A Lil’ Sunshine

 ANON REQUEST “Anything w Daryl. him giving you his vest when he goes on especially long runs. Him coming back and just smothering you with love etc”

It had been a long day. You had taken out a group from Alexandria to learn about growing larger crops. It was nice to get out and enjoy some of the things that you did in life before all of this.. It felt like so many years ago you were in college learning about botany and so many years ago when you and your brother, Rick, had family dinners at an actual dining room table. You got a shiver down your spin as your mind wondered to Carl for a moment before turning the door handle of your home you shared with your husband, Daryl.

It still felt weird to call him that even after so many years. He was the one that found you all those years ago. You had lost your boyfriend, your brother was shot and in a coma and then just gone. Your sister in law and nephew were probably gone too...and above all else you had found out you were pregnant just days before everything went to shit. 

Daryl had helped you when Merle pulled a gun to your head after you had been found roaming around a K-Mart looking for supplies after about a week alone. Daryl had helped you survive in the woods by giving you all the extra food laying around, yet never saying a word. He helped you find Lori and Carl. He helped you find your brother. He had become your friend as unspoken as it seemed.

 He was the friend who helped you give birth to a baby who didn't survive the world long enough to take his first breath. He had helped you grow strong. He had helped you come back from the rape you had endured while you were alone in the woods once again after the prison fell. He loved you, he didn't have to say it out loud. He did however whisper it to you when the two of you were finally was reunited, but you were too broken to say it back until you had found Alexandria. You had both slipped into hushed relationship after that. Then he had asked you to be his wife months after he had escaped the sanctuary. You didn't have a wedding, or any ceremony. You two just went out into the woods where he had given you a ring he had gotten made from a welder in Hilltop. You had never felt more complete, because you had always known deep in your heart that Daryl was your hero and soulmate in a world full of pain and agony. 

___________________________

It had been years since your brother’s death. Rick’s remains had never been found, but a part of you just wanted him dead and at rest. The pain of the unknown tug at your heartstrings, especially at night when you lay awake worried and anxious as Daryl deserted your home to stay out in the trenches of the wastelands beyond the walls to search for him...he had looked so long that it just felt right to be out in the woods instead of feeling the guilt inside his domestic home again sleeping next to you... but for you, the last remaining family needed you home and you needed to keep them safe. 

Years later, and one honest trip to his woodland abode and the fight over the fact you had stopped wearing your ring- he had promised to stop looking for your brother and to start making amends to your deteriorating relationship. 

Daryl still went on long runs to the different communities much to your dismay. You always had a lot on your plate. You took in Lydia, you had taken up the duty of Negan’s watch dog, and you were helping Alexandria grow large quantities of crops for trade. 

 There were always going to be threats out there, but today felt different. Sometimes it was as if you just knew that Daryl’s run was going to be ending and he would be returning soon. Today there was an oddly calm feeling around Alexandria, and as you tore off your boots at the front door, you decided to shower and sit on the porch until dark. Every night that he was gone you brought a book out to the steps to wait for the gate to open and Daryl to appear. 

You climbed the stares and stopped short just at the top to hear Lydia reading allowed. You peaked you head just right to look through the open slit inside the door where you could see Lydia sitting on the bed reading. She had been working so hard at school, but reading had been her main struggle. Thats when you could hear Judith’s voice ring out encouraging Lydia to continue as she struggled with a word. 

Your lips curled into a smile as you tried your hardest not to interrupt the kids by traveling towards your room. Opening your closet you sighed at the sight of Daryl’s leather vest hanging in your nearly empty closet. You reached your hand out to gently touch the last part of Daryl you had at the moment. He had started leaving it for you when you had decided not to join him on runs as often as you had in the past. It wasn't like you didn't want to, or that you were not capable of long runs.... it was just that you were settling down and you had found that protecting the kids and the people of Alexandria gave you a purpose that you didn't feel you had before this whole world had decided to end. 

You pulled it off the hanger, looking it over before placing it on the bed. You ran your hands over the frilled edges and the dried blood stains you mentally reminded yourself to clean off later. You peaked down at the very bottom where you had sewn in a tiny ‘I Love You’ note in black so it was barely noticeable. It was worn, it had been destroyed and put back together, and through it all it had survived some of the worst conditions- just like the love you and Daryl shared. 

A piece of him is always with you...with or without the vest. 

You let the days events wash over you as you cleaned yourself up in the cold shower. The dirt and the fears and the anxiety left your body for just a few moments before you threw back on some raggedy clothes and headed back towards your room. You noticed the door was shut and a light was on and you wondered if Lydia had taken a book to your bed like she sometimes did when the thought of nightmares kept her from sleep but you then remembered Judith was still there. 

You walked quietly over to your bedroom and twisted the door handle and as the door pushed open it revealed Daryl. He looked sweaty and worn out. He took above your bed and his fingers traced along the edges of his vest. His head turned quickly at the sound of the door and a small sigh escaped his lips. You smiled sweetly, knowing he had been waiting to see you. It was like he was always holding his breath when you two were not together. It seemed to have been like that since the very first day they met. 

“You look exhausted. Handsome as ever, just really exhausted,” you teased as you walked quickly over to him and engulfed him in a large and comforting hug. 

“Yeah, been on the bike all day. Everyone’s gonna gather at Oceanside for trainin in a few days. It’s been good bringin people together.” His blue eyes searched yours as you nodded your head. You alway knew there would be fights, but it didn't stop you from sometimes wishing you didn’t have to always prepare for it. 

“You at least have good travel weather?” You asked curiously. You knew it had been raining pretty hard during the first day he left, but every day since it had been hot and the sun was shining.

 “There was a lil’ sunshine. Reminded me that where ever I go your always with me.”

[dopescotlandwarrior]

Beauty Chooses II-Chapter 15

           A special thanks to @statell​ for all your help and wisdom

Previous chapters at AO3

Chapter 15 The Bear

My thigh muscles were burning walking up the steep hill to fetch Faith. She is helping a neighbor make apple and peach pies today and it was time for her lessons. Everywhere I look the fields are ripe and nearly ready to harvest. The summer has gifted us with huge crops from perfect rain and sun. The Ridge will do quite well this year.

I have had a low-boil of excitement for the past two months due to no period. What I wouldn’t give for a nearby Walgreens that sells early pregnancy tests. I will just have to wait and pray I was given another chance.

Once we socialized for a while and I admired the beautiful pies, Faith thanked the neighbor and we left for the trek home. I watched her lesson and was very impressed with the math she was doing wondering what a young lady in the 18th century would do with such a gift. It was making my head hurt to think about it, so I excused myself to lay down for a bit. Fighting fatigue is my greatest challenge lately and I find it best to give in and close my eyes each afternoon.

When the bed shook under me I knew Jamie had come to check on me. His warm hands slid down my arms and I yawned and turned toward him smiling.

“Are ye well, Sassenach?”

“Yes.”

“Ye dinna nap in the day usually, until recently. I canna wait any longer lass. Are ye with child?”

“Yes, I believe I am.”

He exhaled audibly and pulled me to him. He touched me like I might shatter with the slightest pressure and I smiled at him.

“I won’t break sweetheart. Perhaps I can show you just how strong I am?”

I reached for his breeks only to have him capture my hands and kiss them. “Another time my love. We are bringin in Floyd’s fields today and they’re waitin on me.”

He kissed my forehead and jumped from our bed. I knew he would be gone until after sunset and I sighed deeply before getting up myself. I found Faith helping Misses Crook shuck corn cobs in the kitchen and kissed her cheeks until she giggled. Glavia still did lessons with Faith every day but was quick to join the man who was courting her in the afternoon. Several times per week Daniel would come for her and they would walk and talk.

I watched them at social gatherings and saw true interest in Daniel. He watched her, always, when she was away from him and his face lit up when she returned. Glavia was sold into servitude by her parents at a young age, but her sharp intellect allowed her to self learn mathematics, literature, history, and advanced writing. Her hunger for knowledge always impressed me but she was in need of a different kind of lesson. There was no one to look after her adult education pertaining to love, courtship, marriage, and sex. It fell to me as I oversaw this beautiful girl.

“Glavia, would you come to my room, please? I want to have a talk with you.”

We sat cross-legged on my bed which seemed to relax her. We talked about Daniel and how the courtship was going. I could see she was in love by the rosy blush that spread across her face and the whimsical look in her eyes.

“Has he kissed you yet?”

“No mistress!”

“Well, it is quite normal at this stage of courtship to be kissed. Have you told him not to?”

“No, he has not asked me.”

“Do you want him to kiss you?”

“I do!”

“Next time you two are alone, like when he walks you home, if he stops and looks into your eyes you must stay focused on his eyes, do not look down at your feet. That tells a man not to kiss you.”

I could see Glavia’s mind working because she wanted to be kissed and would follow my instructions to the letter.

“He can put his arm around your waist when he kisses you but that is all. If his hands are wandering all over your body, you must break the kiss and run home. He is not an honorable man if he does such a thing. If he courts only you and has not asked for your hand in marriage after six months you must move on and find another suitor. Hard as that may be.”

Glavia stared at me through my dissertation and I knew my warnings were burned into her brain. I hugged her before walking downstairs. Her deer-in-the-headlight look tugged at my heart and I was glad I had not gone any further with her lesson today.

Later when I kissed Faith goodnight she asked for Jamie. She was learning one Gaelic word per night and she had not gotten her word yet. I assured her I would send him up the minute he came home. She is such a sweet little girl. I could not imagine speaking to her about kissing men and letting them hold her waist. I would surely poison them before they ever got near her. I giggled down the stairs at the thoughts I was having.

Faith practiced and used the Gaelic words she was learning every day and she would giggle, or gasp, at Jamie when he spoke Gaelic, reminding us both she could sometimes understand him. She was learning, and waited on her father’s instruction every night. It was not usual for a father to spend dedicated time with a daughter. His job was to save for her dowry and see her married as well as possible. I was immensely proud of Jamie for wanting his daughter to learn all she could from him. They had a special bond because of it. ********************** To my eternal happiness, a period never came for nine months. The birth of this child was not as easy as Faith, but like the first time, Jamie was in the bed with me, coaching and encouraging, no matter how many times the attending ladies asked him to leave. Brian James Alexander Fraser was born on March 19th 1753. He has dark curly hair, piercing blue eyes, and a healthy set of lungs. When the baby cried in the night, I would change his diaper and plug him into a nipple, I slept while he nursed. A couple of hours later he would fuss again and I would turn over and give him the other side. He was an easy baby with an abundance of people to answer his every grunt and cry.

Jamie built a bassinet outside that was strung between two trees so the baby could rest and coo outside while I hung laundry. He was just fed and sleeping quietly so I ran into the house for more laundry. I threw a few pieces into the washtub and felt the hair on my arms stand up at the low growling coming from the yard. When I raised my eyes I almost fainted.

A large brown bear ambled around, sniffing the trees, looking for food. He got closer and closer to the baby and I thought I would have a heart attack. I ran off the porch and picked up large rocks to throw but he was too far away. He kept coming so I ran into the house and grabbed the rifle loading it on the porch while the bear got closer. I would have to shoot across the baby to hit the bear. Hopefully, I could make him run away, grab Brian, and run to the safety of the house.

The beast was acting aggressively and stood on his hind legs, smacking his lips together. An invitation to fight. I raised the rifle to my shoulder, aiming right for his head. If I missed, or just grazed him, he would charge me, and Brian was between us in the bassinet. I took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and pulled the trigger. The rifle shot was loud and echoed into the canyon and back again. I hit the bear in his face and he roared, charging at me. I loaded the rifle again with shaking hands, pulled it to my shoulder and shot his face again. He veered off to the side screaming in pain. I ran to Brian, scooping him up before running to the front door.

Misses Crook was white-faced when she ran to me and looked me over. Not minutes later, Jamie came charging through the front followed by Murtagh. I was sobbing and Jamie held us while I told him what happened. When he knew we were alright they headed back out in pursuit of the injured bear.

Brian eventually calmed down and Faith pressed into me for the better part of the afternoon. When Glavia took Brian to the nursery I turned my attention to Faith who was very pale. I hugged her to me and told her not to worry. First bear on the ridge in almost eight years, there wasn’t likely to be another.

Misses Crook called us to eat but I wasn’t hungry. The sun was going down and Jamie wasn’t back yet. The bear must be leading them on a good chase into the forest and when it was so dark to be completely black the bear would turn around and eat them. I shook my head hard to rid the image in my mind and went back to the window.

Some of the men built a large bonfire to guide them back if they were lost, by the light of the flames or by smell. Once Faith was in her bed with Glavia to read to her I went outside to speak with the neighbors. As I approached a cheer went up as Jamie and Murtagh emerged from the trees. They were both bloody and my heart fell as I ran to them.

“Thank ye for the fire, yer good friends to stand out here in the cool night. The bear is still alive, for now anyway, we will gather at first light and try again.”

Someone asked why they were bloody if they had wounds to mend. I was already looking them both over and could see no wounds or punctures from long teeth. I continued to look.

“It isna our blood, Sassenach, I’m not hurt, dinna fash. After sunset, the bear came back and attacked from behind. He grabbed both of us and I shoved my rifle into his mouth and let him chew on the barrel while we got to our feet. He took it, so I’ll be needin to borrow a rifle in the morning.” Jamie pointed at Murtagh, “if the same amount of blood is on me, the bear will bleed out by morning. We can hope.”

Jamie didn’t want to use up all the stored water in the house so he and Murtagh bravely turned toward the stream. I knew it would be intensely uncomfortable in the chilly night air. I grabbed two blankets and followed them.

“Thank ye Sassenach, but yer too far from the house now to walk back alone.”

I used my torch to find them in the water and handed each of them a chunk of soap and inspected their shirts before turning my back. I held the blankets out and felt one pull off my arm, and then the other. Thinking they were both covered by their blanket I turned around to take their clothes and poor Murtagh was hopping in place, trying to free his foot from his trousers. I whipped around again and squeezed my eyes shut as if that would erase the image from my mind.

We all pushed toward home, me, and two half-frozen Highlanders, and it was all I could do to keep my hysterical laughter from erupting. I left them at the fire to warm up and raced to my room where I buried my face in a pillow and let it rip. Bare butt cheeks were only half of it. In the shadow of my torch, I could clearly see Murtagh’s penis bouncing up and down when he hopped. I dared not go back downstairs and wondered if I could ever see Murtagh from behind without laughing. Thank goodness he was unaware.

Misses Crook placed hot bowls of stew in front of the men and kept them full until they both pushed away from the table. Jamie staggered into our room and collapsed on the bed. He smelled delicious and his naked body was filling my mind with things not so funny. I ran my hand over his gorgeous butt and received a loud snore for my efforts. I tried several times to wake him and if he hadn’t been snoring, I might think him dead. I gave up and pulled his lifeless arm over me, that was enough to fall asleep.

I was up in time to see the large gathering of men outside. Many had a rifle, some had a pitchfork. Jamie split them into two groups and taught them a strange whistle to be used when someone found the bear or its blood trail. Many wives ran out to fill their husband's pockets with dried meat and fruit only to have Jamie explain it would bring bears in from every direction and the gifts were pulled out of pockets instantly.

These were brave men who hung on Jamie’s every word. Murtagh went with one group, Jamie with the other, and they disappeared into the trees. I hugged the women and told them not to worry. I suggested we all look for herbs and mushrooms today. The women looked into the trees and shook their heads before scattering to their houses.

Glavia pulled the nursery window open a few inches and I could hear Brian making quite a fuss. Nice hint Glavia, I’m coming.

I was deep into the front yard when I heard him and walked quickly toward the house. Before I reached the front door, I felt my milk let down and my breasts tingle sharply. I started running up the stairs and grabbed Brian to my breast as it flowed into the fabric of my shift. I sat back in the rocking chair panting from my constricting corset and smiled at Faith.

“Good morning, darling. Did you have pleasant dreams?”

Faith put her hand on my leg and looked at her feet. It was clear she was still traumatized from the bear incident and my heart broke.

“Faith, do not worry. Your father has lots of men with him today and they will all stay safe together.”

Faith spoke quickly and I could see she was unsettled. Her words were half Gaelic and half English, and I felt a giggling pride that she had been so devoted to her father’s language. Glavia confessed that Faith requested Gaelic when she spoke to tenants and they were only too happy to correct her pronunciation and teach her the words she lacked to answer them. She looked at me sharply for laughing but I felt my eyes well up with tears and she knew how proud I was of her.

“I have never been so proud of you little girl. Now, I have a new lesson to teach you. Courage.”

“No mama, I am too fearful. I will never be unafraid, as you are, and I canna make myself. I’ve tried.”

“Fearful.” I rolled the word off my tongue thinking of the best way to explain fear. “I am quite familiar with fear actually, it is something I live with every day. It’s either making me shake or hovering in my head ready to fill me with dread at the slightest provocation. I dare say Glavia feels fear often, do you not my dear?”

Glavia nodded her head vigorously.

“Courage simply means feeling the fear and doing the act anyway. Yes, that about sums it up.” I smiled at my explanation until I saw the confusion in Faith’s expression.

“Darling, do you remember when I hit the man with my parasol? I was hugely afraid at that moment, but I hit him anyway because it was the only thing I could do. Courage is like the cavalry riding in to save you, or someone you love, when danger is near.”

“Cavalry.” She tasted the word with a strange expression.

“Sorry, a bit too soon for that word. Courage is that bit in you that rises up in the face of danger and does whatever is necessary to save yourself or someone you care about. It has bigger muscles than your fear and will save you. Yes, that’s better.”

Brian burped loudly in my ear as his head rolled in his sleep. I put him in Glavia’s outstretched hands and turned to my sweet daughter.

“The time will come when you will feel tremendous fear and the way to safety will be clear in your mind. You will do what needs to be done because you know it’s the right thing to do. Each time you do it, will be easier.”

Faith wrapped her arms around my waist and seemed a bit more composed when she left with Glavia to get a snack before lessons. I stayed in the soothing rocking chair and thought about all the times courage pulled me through something scary. Waking up in Jamie’s wood the first time, sailing to France not knowing where I might wake up the next day, walking through the stones, and running to save my family when the redcoats were twenty feet from us. I shook my head to make it stop because my heart was banging in my ears. I dearly hoped Faith would not experience a fraction of that.

I wondered how long it takes to find an injured bear and decided to read on the front porch to be available in case other wives came for news of the hunt. I squinted against the sun making my eyes water and kept them closed until the sting went away. Sometime later, I moved my eyeballs side to side under my lids, aware of the passage of time. My face was in the shadow of the porch when I opened them so I must have fallen asleep some time ago. I felt my smile as I stretched and then froze seeing a large animal not five feet from me.

The bear was walking straight toward me and I couldn’t move. It was huge and dripping blood behind him. I wondered if Jamie was close by and prayed fervently that he was. He was closer now. When I saw his front feet on the steps to the porch the alarm bells were ringing in my ears, I was hyperventilating, but I still couldn’t move. I would have to run past the beast to reach the front door and I couldn’t make myself do it. As I debated my plan the front door swung open and Misses Crook jumped out, followed by Faith and Glavia. They had pots and wooded spoons to beat on them making such a noise it scared the bear and he ran back down the stairs. I jumped to my feet ushering the woman back into the house and slamming the door.

I dropped to my knees and held Faith closely while I panted for air.

“That, my darling, is the very definition of courage. Thank you, all of you, for saving me!”

We crowded close to the window to see the bear, but he was gone. We continued to look until it jumped in front of the window on its hind legs growling at the sight of us. We all screamed and clung to each other. The bear was growling with his horrible mouth wide open and I prayed he would not bang into the glass and get us. I looked around for the rifle before I remembered it was lost and pulled the women away from the window. I told them to run for the nearest neighbor while I distracted the bear. They refused and I implored Glavia to run Faith to safety and scowled at Misses Crook.

The bear was getting frustrated. He could see us but could not get us, so he started pounding on the glass. I screamed at Misses Crook to hide upstairs with the baby. He pounded louder and I have never been so scared. I watched the bear shoot sideways with human hands clutching the fur on his neck and a shiny dirk plunge deep into the neck squirting blood sideways. I could see Jamie on his back, as the bear thrashed the dirk was brought down into his neck again and again. I watched in horror at the huge quantity of blood that pooled on the patio boards and covered Jamie.

Like it was slow motion, he plunged the dirk into the neck and moved it side to side violently. I could tell the bear was losing his strength as it tried to stand up and roar one last time. The bear fell forward with Jamie rolling to the side and getting to his feet. Brave Jackson ran to Jamie with a rifle pointed at the beast’s head. They stood still while the blood pumped out of the animal. There was no more life in the bear so ropes were tied to its legs and he was dragged off the porch and away.

I could hear Brian screaming and raced upstairs to find Misses Crook pacing with a hysterical baby. I took him and dropped into the rocking chair, telling her the bear was quite dead. I rocked my sweet son and hummed to him while I offered a nipple. It took several minutes for him to stop crying and finally latch onto me. I smiled down at him and tried to keep my face calm. “I can be your hero baby I can kiss away the pain I will stand by you forever You can take my breath away”

“I’ve ne’er heard that song mistress.”

My head snapped up, forgetting Misses Crook was still in the room. “It’s Enrique Iglesias, one of my favorites.” She blinked at me like she had never been to my century.

“Could you find Glavia and Faith and bring them home?”

“Aye.”

I watched Brian sleep in my arms. I knew there was chaos happening outside, but for now, it was just me and Brain and all was right in the world. When I had indulged myself enough, I put the baby in his cradle and went downstairs to wait for the women. I thought about Glavia and how sparkling happy she had been lately. My happiness for her ground to a halt and I counted on my fingers how many months it had been since Daniel first came to call on her. I was quite upset I had not watched more closely because by my count it had been well over a year. What could Daniel be waiting for I wondered?

“Glavia, may I speak to you please, before the lesson? How is it going with your suitor, Daniel?”

Her smile illuminated her face for a moment but was quickly replaced with concern. She looked at me strangely, almost like fear.

“It has been over a year Glavia. Has he talked about marriage, has he asked you?”

“No mistress, not yet.”

“He calls on you several times a week, what do you two talk about?”

When she looked at the floor, she tried to answer which was little more than stammering. I was flooded with fear for her suddenly and my question just flew out of my mouth.

“Glavia, has he asked for more than a kiss?”

She shook her head no and started to cry. Now I was really confused. I pulled her to the sofa and calmed myself before asking what her tears were for. It took a bit of time before she answered me.

“He has not asked to kiss me yet. I have done what you said, I look at him when we are together and he gets quiet but he has not asked.”

“Oh dear. Does he act fond of you?”

“Yes, he writes beautiful poetry for me, about love and devotion. He reads it to me out loud and says he wrote the poem for me.”

Her eyes became misty and full of love, but I had not a clue how to guide her. Well, I know what I would have done in this situation.

“Glavia, your courtship has gone on too long. I’m afraid people will talk about you in an unkind way that may interfere with other men courting you, if it comes to that. So, it’s time to say goodbye to Daniel.” When she protested, loudly, I decided it couldn’t hurt to tell her what I would do. “There is one more thing you can try. If he truly loves you, this will work. You kiss him.”

“What?! I couldn’t do such a thing!”

“You can, and you will, because you don’t want to say goodbye. It’s not so bad. Next time you two are alone where no one can see you, just hold his face and kiss him.”

“Hold his face?”

“Softly, like this, and look directly into his eyes, and then..”

“What’s this then?”

I heard Jamie’s voice from the front door and snapped my head up to see him wrapped in a blanket again after washing in the river.

“Do you mind if I use you to demonstrate how to kiss?”

He perked up, “I dinna mind mo chridhe.” He walked to me smiling and looking at my lips. I could tell he meant to lead so I put my hand up to stop him.

“I want you to act like you are not expecting a kiss.”

When he started asking questions, I tenderly held his face and softly kissed him. I felt his arms reach for me after that and suggested he dress before there is any more kissing. He looked cheated but went up the stairs to our room. I turned to Glavia and smiled.

“See? It’s easy, well maybe not the first time because you will be nervous. Maybe you would like to try with Murtagh?”

She shook her head yes and I called the unsuspecting man over to us. “Murtagh, before you disappear to dress can we borrow you for a minute?”

He approached with his usual scowl and Glavia bravely stood up, held his face, and kissed him. And then he fainted dead away.

“Oh dear God, Murtagh… Murtagh, wake up.”

I slapped his cheek a bit and his eyes opened as he scooted back away from us. Glavia was apologizing and walking toward him so he got to his feet and ran to his room. Maybe I should have warned him.

“That was magnificent! Seriously, you did it just right and I’m sure Daniel will not react that way. How do feel about the kiss, can you do it with Daniel?”

“I feel fine about kissing and yes I can do it, this evening when we take our walk.”

With that, she turned to the stairs to start Faith’s lesson. I felt rather wicked for not warning Murtagh and all the talk of kissing was making me uncomfortable. I decided to help Jamie get dressed for his afternoon of chores and maybe a quick explanation of causing Murtagh to faint, the poor man.

I had to help Jamie off the floor he was laughing so hard at Murtagh’s reaction to being kissed. I admit I was almost losing it myself and didn’t know who was helping who up. I was quite sure Murtagh would not speak to me for quite some time, but it was worth it. Glavia seemed to have confidence enough to kiss her boyfriend and I was on pins and needles all evening, waiting for her to come home. It was unusually late when I finally heard the front door open. Jamie and the rest of the household were fast asleep already.

Glavia pressed her back against the door and sighed deeply. She looked weird but I couldn’t put my finger on why.

“How was your evening Glavia?”

She rolled her head to look at me and smiled like she was high. Uh oh. “Well, did you do it?”

She drifted to me like her feet were not touching the ground. When she got closer, I could see the area around her mouth was red and looked painful. Then it hit me, they kissed so much he scratched her delicate skin with his beard. I looked again and decided that was a lot of kissing. Glavia floated upstairs without a word and I prayed a proposal would be coming soon. I made a vow, then and there, to be more careful with the advice I gave.

I waited patiently for the next two weeks, hoping Daniel would speak to Jamie about asking for Glavia’s hand but it never happened. After each date, Glavia would float in with a red mouth and say goodnight. Clearly, I had to meddle in her affairs one more time. When Jamie and I were in bed I broached the subject.

“Jamie, darling, I think you need to speak with Daniel about his intentions for Glavia. It’s been over a year they have been seeing each other and I am worried about her reputation. Will you speak to him, to Daniel, please?”

“Do I order him to marry the lass, or ask why he hasna already?”

“Well, tell him a year of courtship is long enough so he must marry her or never see her again.”

I could feel Jamie thinking about that and he undoubtedly thought it harsh, but I was the one to protect her reputation, so I would keep asking him. A month later, Daniel asked Jamie after church if he might speak with him later in the afternoon. Jamie agreed and I almost fainted with relief. This better be what I think it is or I will throttle that boy myself.

There was great excitement on the Ridge today as we prepared for the harvest festival which usually lasted all night and into the next day. The men had been hunting all week and there was already a pig, three turkeys, and a deer roasting outside. Misses Crook and I made numerous trips to the big tables outside bringing plates of bannocks, fruit salad, and bread. The tables were filling up quickly as we went back to the house for more food. Glavia would not be lending a hand this afternoon. She was sitting on her bed waiting for Daniel’s visit to be over so she could pump Jamie for information.

I thought the door to Jamie’s study was closed for an awfully long time, feeling my relief when Daniel dashed for the front door. I was already dressed for the party and poked my head in to look at my husband. He sat quietly, contemplating his universe and whatever was happening in it. I raised my eyebrows when he looked up and he beckoned me in to sit with him.

“Daniel has asked for Glavia’s hand and I gave my permission, now I feel afraid for the lass because her husband wilna make her happy.” He stood up and walked toward me lifting me and holding me close by my waist. “Tell me Sassenach, are all women like ye? Because Daniel wilna do what I do to ye.”

His eyes were burning with the question because Daniel presented himself as chaste and held that virtue in the highest regard. He knew how to create offspring but saw sex at other times sinful.

“If Glavia is like ye she will have a lonely life.” He pushed the hair behind my ear and looked me in the eye while he ran his fingers down my chest and over my nipple. “I fear he is pious and will not stimulate her interest in the world.”

“Jamie. She is in love and there is no telling her otherwise. Do not take on the burden of her happiness. It is up to Glavia to seek her marital bliss and I have faith in her.”

We were temporarily sidetracked by kissing and celebrating our mutual love, physical and spiritual. The house was filling with the smell of roasting meat and we could hear music and clapping outside. I pulled Jamie to the door and he seemed to shake off his concern and smile in anticipation of the party ahead. Later I saw Daniel steer Glavia away from the party and they disappeared. I sighed deeply hoping I was right about their union because it would soon be too late to undo this.

I bundled Brian up in his blankets and got back to the party in time to see Jamie dancing with his daughter as the crowd clapped. She was in full hero-worship as she watched his feet and copied him to the beat of the music. My eyes stung watching them. She seemed so grown up and was so loved by her father.

Later, I steered Faith toward home and helped her into bed suddenly aware of her need for a Gaelic word from Jamie. She answered me in a string of Gaelic and then translated, “he gave me two words last night.” I kissed her cheeks a dozen times and pulled the quilt up to her chin before turning down the lamp.

“You are my angel, goodnight.”

I put a sleeping Brian into his cradle and went downstairs to help Misses Crook with the catastrophic mess in the kitchen. I could see she was dead on her feet and ordered her to bed. I was still wide awake, waiting for Glavia to come home and tell me her good news.

She came through the door a changed woman, brimming with love, and seeing images of her wedding in her mind. I hugged her to me, so happy she had won her love and determined to meddle when the time was right so she would understand seduction and physical love.

Once Glavia was upstairs with the children I rejoined the party and a drunk Scot assaulted me pulling me to dance with him. I laughed until I lost step with the music, panting from my corset. Jamie whisked me away from the smoke of the fire and by the time I could breathe my back was against a tree and said Scot was chasing my mouth. He pressed into me asking forgiveness and kissed me deeply. I tried to see behind him to verify we were out of sight when my skirts came up to my waist and he pulled me up. My legs went around him and I lowered my head to kiss him as his cock slowly filled me. Christ, what a feeling it was when he first pushed into me. I leaned back against the tree and watched his arousal take off and his pace quicken. He held my head down on his lips and when I pushed away to breathe, he pulled my jacket open and exposed my breasts. That did it. I was in the race to finish with him and almost lost consciousness from my damn corset. My orgasm gripped him hard enough to make him grunt and he followed me into the erotic wind. I felt his kisses on my neck when I opened my eyes. He set me down on my feet and he hugged me closely before we giggled about our adventure.

Jamie was walking back to the house with me when several men were calling him to join in the games. I smiled and pushed him toward the party, wanting him to enjoy this night of fun that came only once a year. I banked the fire and turned the lamps down before heading upstairs reaching behind me to grab one of my laces and failing. I peeked into the nursery and Brian and Faith were sound asleep. Glavia whispered to me and I almost shot out of my skin. I pulled her to my room and closed the door. She helped me out of my corset and into a robe so we could talk.

She described the way Daniel proposed to her and thought it the most romantic speech ever said. I found it devoid of emotion and pious, suddenly sharing Jamie’s concern for her happiness. We would have to see how long dear Daniel can resist a beautiful, young, wife who is schooled in seduction. I would make sure Glavia knew what to do, even if it meant Murtagh fainting again, or worse. On second thought, maybe we should leave Murtagh out of this. What I intended to teach her wasn’t as innocent as a kiss.

[familyiswhoyouchoose]

You Matter (FIWYC)

It is moments like this that make Jesse despise the depths of his own mind. Wrapped in Hanzo’s embrace, with the smell of sandalwood and vanilla to comfort him, it should have been impossible for his mind to fester some sort of negativity from this, right? How hopelessly wrong could he have been. Letting his eyes crack open, he stares aimlessly into the long shadows cast from the hall’s dim lighting and a few details decide to make themselves painfully known.

Hanzo is wearing his pajamas, it is still early in the morning, there are two small children in the vicinity, and this is not his room. Stiffening in Hanzo’s grasp, Jesse almost hates how quickly the archer adapts by loosening his hold. Despite being down one arm and a less than sound mind, Jesse could’ve easily broken out of Hanzo’s hold but his traitorous mind and body didn’t want to budge. Instead, he did the one thing that he knew how.

Talk his way out of a situation.

“Look at me, blubberin’ like a baby,” Jesse huffed, resting his chin on Hanzo’s shoulder. “Don’t you go tellin’ anyone about this, Han.”

Hanzo rolled his eyes and pulled one of his arms back, pinching Jesse’s cheek and giving it a light tug. “As attractive as your combat skills and rugged charm may be, it is also comforting that you feel the need to cry like any other being,” Releasing Jesse’s cheek, Hanzo shifted in Jesse’s hold and held his face in his hands, a soft smile tugging at his lips when taking in the sight of Jesse’s wide eyes. “And it is humbling that you feel safe enough to show your vulnerability to me. Your trust is not to be taken lightly.”

“Shoot darlin’, it ain’t nothin’ that special’,” Jesse mumbled, breath catching when Hanzo’s thumb wipes away a stray tear. “Just cryin’.”

“To you, perhaps,” Hanzo traces Jesse’s cheekbones with nimble fingers, letting them trail up and disappear into dark brown strands of hair, brushing it behind Jesse’s ears as Hanzo leaned closer to press their foreheads together. “Tell me what troubles your spirit, Jesse.”

Although it is fairly dark and Jesse can barely see the finer details of Hanzo’s face, he has them memorized to a T. The curve of his eyelashes, the faint scar on his chin and the other along his eyebrow, the quirk of his lip when he smiled, shape of his nose, the shades of brown in his eyes — wait, what was he doing? Squeezing his eyes sight, Jesse huffed through his nose and tried to keep his mind clear but he could hear Hanzo’s breaths. Even, soft, in for five counts, out for five, then repeat. It took him a second to notice that he was following along with his own breathing. A slight haze overtaking the panic that spurred the tears to his eyes in the first place.

Swallowing down a bitter laugh, Jesse had to wonder when Hanzo began to have this sort of effect on him. For someone who was so dangerous and imposing, he could calm him down within minutes. It was a feat to behold and some part of Jesse wanted to be annoyed but it was outnumbered by the fondness. Giving in to Hanzo’s hold, their noses brushed together, Hanzo’s fingers combing through his Jesse’s hair lightly scratching at his scalp.

“I should be askin’ you that,” Jesse mumbled, trying to pinpoint the words through the haze. “How long were you waitin’...”

“For you to knock?” Hanzo interrupted with a thoughtful hum then a casual shrug. “Not long. They alerted me to your presence.”

Jesse scoffed, letting his eyes slip shut. “So much for the element of surprise.”

“No, you still maintained it,” Hanzo reassured, although there was a slight tease to his tone that made Jesse happy he couldn’t see his grin in this lighting.

“Didn’ you sic your… dragons after me though?”

“Not exactly. As I’ve told you before, I do not control them.”

With Hanzo’s fingers in his hair and his warmth encasing him, it was hard to find the will to string a sentence together. Everything was comfortable and soft. Jesse was almost certain that if his knees gave out right then and there, Hanzo wouldn’t have any trouble keeping him upright.

“Just suggestions,” Jesse mumbled, drawing light circles on Hanzo’s hip.

“Only suggestions,” Hanzo replied, his breath warm against Jesse’s face, a smile in his voice. “I am but a man, Jesse.”

Jesse huffed, cracking open his eyes. “More like an angel.”

He’d seen Hanzo on the battlefield. The man fought like a god, but he was right in a way, he bled like a man. If anything, Hanzo was some cross between a deity and a human. If he read that one manga of Genji’s right, something like a demihuman? Neither of them really explained or cared to clarify on what exactly the Dragons were. Just gave shrugs and vague explanations, hell, who knew -- they might be dragons in disguise.

Would explain how Hanzo was so goddamn handsome.

“Ridiculous,” Hanzo mumbles, drawing Jesse away from his thoughts, the cowboy grinning lazily despite the archer’s inability to see it.

“There’s my Hanny.”

Jesse could almost picture the way Hanzo’s eyebrows furrowed, the creases in his forehead, the roll of his eyes, and the smile he tried to fight down.

“Also ridiculous.”

Nose to nose with Hanzo, Jesse chuckled. “Honey, then?”

“And the food pet names make a devastating return,” Hanzo sighs, feigning annoyance with a heavy sigh. “How predictable.” “But not unwarranted, right?” Jesse asks, trying to keep the hopeful edge from his tone, but the slight itch is hard not to scratch. “If ya ain’t like ‘em, you would say so.”

Hanzo pauses for a second and Jesse fears that he’s taken a misstep. Ready to back pedal and undo what his big mouth got him into, it doesn’t register to him that he’s breathing the same air as Hanzo until their lips press together. For a man with calloused hands and scarred skin, Hanzo’s lips were soft. Warm. Inviting. And Jesse was drawn in everytime. Returning the kiss with a light press of his own, relaxing into Hanzo’s hold, the hand caressing the back of his head traveling to cradle the back of his neck. Chasing after Hanzo as he pulled away wasn’t something he was ashamed of. Pressing his lips to the corner of the archer’s lips, pressing a soft kiss here and there just to feel him smile wilder when their lips met again only to break away, foreheads touching.

“Well, aren’t you bein’ kind?” Jesse whispered breathlessly, feeling like he’s walking on air rather than lower than dirt.

And without knowing how much he’s blessed him, Hanzo says nonchalantly, “Am I?”

The hand cradling the back of his neck slips into his hair, lightly scratching at his scalp and the haze lifts enough for Jesse to realize part of what this is. Groaning softly, he slips away to bury his face in Hanzo’s shoulder.

“Can we talk about it another time?” He asks, though the words are muffled, he angles his head to free his mouth. “Please?”

Hanzo is quiet for a stretch of time that may have only been seconds but felt like hours to Jesse. Then with a light squeeze and a light brush of the lips against the crown of his head, Hanzo nodded.

“If that is what you wish,” he says, slipping from Jesse’s hold though keeping a firm grasp on the gunslinger’s remaining hand. “Come.”

Jesse blinked rapidly, shaking his head. “C-Come again?”

“You may stay,” Hanzo said slowly. “Is that not why you came?”

“Darlin’, it’s late and I don’t wanna—”

A finger pressed to his lips effectively silencing him and his shoulders drew back as he felt the air near his ears crackle and pop. The air had the faint smell of something he couldn’t put his finger on. Like the air after a rain shower or a lightning storm, and he could swear that he heard the faintest of rumbling thunder.  Hanzo’s hand clasped around his wrist and Jesse startled, tensing up before relaxing as the archer’s hand trailed from his wrist to his fingers, lacing them together.

“Jesse,” he says, his voice calm and even, like the eye of a storm. “You are home.”

The phrase sinks in just as it always does. However this time, it feels like the meaning is different. Jesse squeezes Hanzo’s fingers and takes a tentative step forward before remembering his manners. Slipping his shoes off despite the slight difficulty with his heel catching. The spurs clink and rattle against one another as his boots clatter to the floor, socked feet falling in step with Hanzo’s as the archer practically drags him along. Well, practically might not have been the word for it.

It wasn’t as if Jesse was complaining after all. He just felt a mite helpless. Warm, fuzzy, safe. Like a kid who had a bad dream and needed a place to calm down. As they pass by a door, the thought sobers Jesse up and he slows down to a stop, Hanzo glancing at him over his shoulder. Being in Hanzo’s place enough times, Jesse knows exactly who is behind the door they passed and despite his age and such — he was still a gentleman after all.

“Sure the tykes won’t mind?” He asked in a low whisper, sparing a glance towards the door.

Hanzo must’ve caught his meaning because he huffed, and Jesse could imagine him rolling his eyes. “If my sons did not approve of you, we would not be here right now.”

“Ouch,” Jesse feigned a slight stumble. “Got me right there in the heart, darlin’.”

Hanzo huffed through his nose, a soft chuckle escaping him. “My life is also theirs, I am their father afterall.” “Mighty good one at that,” Jesse mumbled, lifting their joined fingers to his lips, pressing a kiss to Hanzo’s knuckles. “Not bringin’ around anybody they ain’t gonna agree with.”

“It would be in poor taste,” Hanzo hummed, lowering their hands once Jesse was done. “Thankfully, you meet both their standards and mine.”

“And what might those be?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?

Jesse snorted. Typical Hanzo, typical asshole answer. “That’s why I”m askin’.”

“And I am not telling,” Hanzo shot back, and Jesse decided to concede the point lest they get loud enough to wake the kids.

“Mind if I check in on ‘em?”

Hanzo didn’t say anything but the door to the room creaked open and Jesse peeked inside. A faint silver light chased away the long shadows, dimly illuminating the room and the two children bundled up on the bed pressed to the furthest corner of the room.

“They always sleep like that?” Jesse whispered, making room so that Hanzo could peer in as well. From his peripherals, Jesse could make out Hanzo’s smile and the warm look in his eye.

“Mm, ever since Shingen was four,” the archer explained, glancing up at Jesse who quickly looked away. “It is comforting to Hayao.”

“I bet,” Jesse chuckled. “If I had someone like Shingen watchin’ my back, I’d sleep like a baby every night. No wonder I sleep well next to you.”

Hanzo stands rigid at his side, the curve of his smile dipping into a frown, a steely gaze locked onto something that Jesse cannot see. Retracing the words in his mind, Jesse curses. “Aw damn, tripped an emotional landmine, didn’ I?” He asks, chest tightening when Hanzo doesn’t react. “What’s on your mind?”

It takes a second but feels like forever until Hanzo looks at him, eyebrow cocked, amusement in his eyes.

“You came with your woes under lock and key, but mine are free game?”

The joke aside, Jesse’s eyebrows furrowed and he scowled. Two could play at that game although the thunderous voices in his head seemed to be laughing which meant there were four players but Jesse McCree was never to be beaten or taken lightly.

“Han…”  Jesse warned, staring hard.

“Jess,” Hanzo replied, staring harder.

Jesse groans after awhile, throwing up his hand. “Alright, alright, yeah, I might’ve earned that.”

Hanzo huffs, taking his hand and pulling him along, though stopping to ease the boys’ door shut. “Come, let’s go to bed.”

“Might want to watch that phrasing,” Jesse teased, sidling up beside Hanzo with a smile.

“I know what I said, cowboy,” Hanzo says dryly, though he squeezes Jesse’s hand for good measure.

Upon entering the room and shutting the door, Hanzo sits down on the left side of the bed and starts to unlatch his prosthetics while Jesse hovers restlessly by the door. It’s only after the archer has his legs leant against the wall that he looks up and raises a brow.

“Are you waiting for an invitation?” He asks wryly, patting the bed spread beside him.

“Nah, I’m just uh… I wanted to uh… ask ya for somethin’,” Jesse grumbled, sitting on the edge of the bed, though he inched his way closer to Hanzo when the other man motioned him closer with a beckoning hand.

“And what would that be?”

“Why?”

Hanzo says nothing and Jesse swallows, waiting for hte answer to come, whatever it may be. And when it does, the archer succeeds in knocking the wind out of him again.

“You matter.”

Jesse’s throat bobs and he can feel his eyes stinging. Pressing the heel of his hand to them, he chokes out a laugh and nods, swiftly undoing the straps for his prosthetic and laying them on top of a nearby dresser. Taking off his serape and draping it across, his belt and buckle following after. Fist clenched at his side, he walks slowly but surely to the other side of the bed, wiggling out of his pants and leaving them in a heap on the floor along with his shirt. Though he has more trouble getting out of his shirt because of his blurred vision and hurriedness than anything else. Hanzo’s hands are much steadier than his own, helping him slip it up and over his head before coming to rest around his abdomen, easing him back against the archer’s chest, warm lips pressed to the juncture of his neck and shoulder.

“You matter,” Hanzo repeated.

He presses a kiss there, then another against Jesse’s shoulder, repeating the words again and again, holding Jesse as the cowboy slowly unravels.

“You are wonderful.”

Another kiss to the back of his neck.

“You try so hard and you do so well.”

Another to the back of his head.

“You are—” Hanzo is cut off in mid-sentence as Jesse spins around in his grasp, hugging him close with a shuddering sob. The two practically fall over, pillowed by the mattress and the pillows, but Jesse shakes nonetheless as if he’s wracked with pain. His face buried in Hanzo’s hair while the archer rubs and pats his back, whispering soft assurements in every language he knows that Jesse is acquainted with.

“You matter, Jesse,” Hanzo whispers, holding Jesse close even as the exhaustion steals his consciousness. “...You matter.”

--------- --------- --------- --------- --------- ---------

Morning comes all too quickly with the sound of the door creaking open, and little feet rushing across the floor. Though before a dive bomb can be executed in full childish fashion, Hayao stops in mid-stride, taking in the sight of his Uncle Jesse sleeping curled up beneath his father’s arm. Tilting his head to the side, Hayao blinks a few times and slowly makes his way out of the room, only to return a few minutes later iwth a silver-white dragon plush. He eases it onto the bed, tucking it beneath his Uncle Jesse’s arm then beating a hasty retreat, slowly shutting the door after.

Hanzo cracks open an eye, glancing towards the door then Jesse’s sleeping form before laying down with a soft sigh, pressing another kiss to the cowboy’s shoulder.

He will be fine, Shimada Hanzo. You must rest. The day is soon to begin.

The thunderous voices of the dragons echoed in his ears and Hanzo could only hope that they were right. And even then, he would always be there to remind Jesse that he mattered.

Even if it took every day for the rest of his life.

[allthefandomloveandimagines]

Edmure tulley

Hello Lindsay! I ship you with Edmure! Though people may not be your thing you don’t have to be outgoing and loud to attract Edmure’s eye. He needs someone to love and someone to love him back. He’s often pushed into situations where his opinion won’t matter and he knows there’s not much he can do. He’d be loving though you may not see it on his exterior. He’d be interested in hearing about what you’ve read and what you’ve learned. He’d try to impress you but picking up and novel and sharing with you what he found. He’d try to bring you a new book home every time he was out and would tell you about where he’s been. I imagine he’d want to unload all of the family baggage he deals with. You’d be absolutely precious to him though he would be big on PDA in public. He’d always step forward to protect you from harm.

❤️story time❤️SORRY THIS ONE HAS SOME GRAPHIC VIOLENCE—-DO NOT READ IF YOU CANT HANDLE IT PLS

Edmure traveled home after a long month with the starks planning funerals and making preparations for Robb’s battle plans

He was tired and worn and not looking forward to the lost of things he would have to do when he went back to leading his house

On his way the first time he had stopped at a quaint little town full of lively people and rich music

Everyone there was friendly and talkative and it was a place he hadn’t thought to visit before

He looked forward to returning to it now that he was headed home

But when he arrived.....

All the buildings had been burned

Damaged

Markets were ripped apart and produce was smashed and covered in mud

Bodies layed across the towns roads and square

Men, women, children

They were all gone or screaming and running about looking for survivors

Edmure flagged his men to assist and in a Second he was racing his horse through the streets

His guards soon met him with news

“Raiders probably, took al the valuables and slaughtered everyone else.” He looked about

Edmure dismounted his horse and walked through the puddles mixed with blood and oil

Rain started to come down hard and the night started to close in

The fires on multiple houses were dying down but nothing was left unturned

Suddenly the grunts and shouts of wild men could be heard from a corner house with seemingly less damage than the rest of the village

Edmure grabbed his sword and trotted off into the house

He ducked under the broken frame of the door and moved a torn curtain away from the enterance

There he met two dirty looking raiders with faded tattoos and torn clothing drenched in blood

And there you were

Pinned against the wall

Tears in your eyes and dirt on your face

Your eyes travelled to edmure who immediately seemed angered by their presence

“Let her go.” He hissed

The two men laughed and one pointed a blade at your neck

“I said-“ edmure cleared his throat “let her go”

“Ey why don’t you come and get her?” You watched edmure very carefully as he creeped forward

The two men didn’t move

But you knew they were ready to

“How many?” Edmure asked

The two men looked at eachother “how many what?”

“How many people have you killed?” His voice was stern and you could tell he was angry

“Like we kept count” they both laughed and shoved eachother playfully

“I said how many people.” Edmure stopped a mere two feet from the man on the left

“Listen here you bastard,” the man stepped forward and raised his blade

But there was no point

Edmure swing his sword and it cut straight into the raiders throat

He dropped to his knees and tried to cover the fresh, bloody wound

But as he did so blood began to fill his throat and it started to spill from his lungs

He fell over

The second man pulled back and got behind you

“Stop!” Edmure shouted

The man held a blade to your neck and gently pulled your hair from your face

“Oh no, I think it is you who should stop.” His breath was hot on your neck and the blade was cold and starting to pinch at your skin

Edmure moved his sword down

“Let her go, and I’ll let you leave” he opened his arms “I won’t fight you”

“You’re stupid” the man spat at him and slowly started to move towards the door

Edmure slowly circled around the room with him making sure he wouldn’t jeopardize your safety

“Let her go.” Edmure insisted, still carefully following the man towards the door at a safe distance

“Just you wait pretty boy” he hissed back

You jerked you head away and his grip on the knife tightened making you wince

All of the sudden you saw Edmures eyes widen

“Stop!” He screamed

You saw him attempt to lunge in your direction and as he did you saw a silver blade piece through the stomach of the man holding you

You screamed and jumped to the floor

The raider fell to the floor-dead

You started to panic

Your hands shook and your eyes fell with tears

Wind started to blow drops of rain into the damaged house as night drew closer

You stayed focused on his body

His dead bleeding body

Edmure rushes to you and newly down at your side

“Are you okay?” He asked

You didn’t answer, you didn’t even look at him

More people like him entered the room and you didn’t even look at them

You were petrified

Where was everyone?

Who survived?

Who’s screams had you heard while you were hiding?

Why didn’t you help them?

Could you have helped them?

You let edmure pull you to your feet and shuffle you out the door

When you looked up your heart sank

Everything you had known was torn down and on fire

Bodies were scattered in the streets

Some of which you thought you recognized

The rain was coming down hard and it started to become more difficult to see

“Search for survivors. Then can stay at the next town over. I’ll take her with me.” Edmure dismissed his men and took off his cloak

He then wrapped it around your figure

“Do you have anyone here?”

Your eyes snapped up to his—filling with tears

“No.” You felt the knot in your throat begin to build “I have no one.”

He looked at you with pity but you could see he was struggling with what he should do

“You can come with me then, I won’t let anyone take you.” He lifted you into the back of his horse

Then mounted it himself

“I would suggest keeping your head down, we will be racing a storm.”

Much to his surprise, you wrapped your arms around his waist and placed your head on his back

You managed to keep the cloak tied around you in fear of freezing to death on the way to his home

Every now and then a shiver would rattle your spine and he would look back at you to make sure you were alright

Once you reached the Tully house you were rushed inside

Once you entered a group of older maids apperared

“Oh my!” Then all rushed at you full force and examined you

They were all quite short and edmure towered above themc but they didn’t really seem to notice

“Ladies, please take care of her. She will need new clothes, a room and food. She’s had a long day so please,” you looked directly up at him, your hood still on “be gentle with her.”

Edmure stalked off and was immediately followed by several old gentleman sqwauking about finances and lists and the stark family

You watched him quietly until he was out of your sight, slightly hoping he would come back

Within an hour the old maids had you clean and redressed in a white nightgown

You were positive that they had scrubbed every inch of you whether you had liked it or not and you had to admit you felt very violated

One of them had spent nearly an hour deciding how she wanted your hair braided for the night

While she tugged at you with the brush she had made little comments like

“I miss sweet little Kaitlyn’s long hair” or “I remember when little kaite used to get twigs and leaves caught in her braids”

You knew she had to be talking about kaitlyn Stark

She was well liked where you were from and so was edmure

For the most part at least

That’s how you were able to recognize him so quickly

He had come in to the pub you worked at late one night and bought everyone drinks

He seemed awfully awkward but genuinely pleased to have such company

He was lucky to have gone late at night

You preferred the night yourself, people who stayed awake that late had better stories

And quicker wits

Fights were always more interesting when they both knew how to dishout insults

The theee maids set you off to bed after bringin you a bowl of soup an some bread for dinner

It was awful kind of them

And you only ate because they sat there and watched you do it

To be honest

You weren’t all that hungry or tired

How could you sleep after everything you had witnessed?

You waited until you couldn’t hear anyone bustling around outside your door

Then you lit a candle and found your way out to the hall

You spent most of the night wandering around the Tully house until you came upon a large library full of dusty old books

You grinned and immediately raced over to a shelf and ran your fingers across the spine of the largest book you could find

And there you sat

For hours

Going from one book to another while the size of the library seemed to swallow you up

When the sun peeked it’s head up the next morning you had fallen asleep on a chusioned chair with your knees over leg and you head down on your chest

It didn’t look very comfortable but you slept nightmare free

It wasn’t until late afternoon that you were found by edmure himself

He had a group of men with him and he immediately chuckled when he noticed you

He dismissed his counsel and closed the library doors behind himself before walking over to you

He squatted down on his knees and looked at you before gently moving you shoulder a bit

“Come on dear, you might want to get up.”

You stirred and moaned before turning in the chair to hide your face from him—then continued to sleep

“I’m sorry but you will have to get up now.” You could hear him try to be gentle but you knew he would eventually move you if you didn’t do it yourself

You looked over and slowly opened your eyes

You didn’t speak, you were still trying to get you pupils to adjust to the light in the room

“Is it morning?” You finally let out a yawn

“Actually, it’s mid afternoon.” He grinned and raised a cocky eyebrow

“It’s what?” You jumped out of the chair and to your feet which almost immediately caused you to fall over

Edmure caught you by your waist and looked down at you

“I imagine your legs might be a bit stiff from sleeping like that.” He was right

Perhaps that position had been a bad idea

You straightened yourself and looked at him

“Thank you for saving me:” you caught him off guard

“Um-er well your welcome.”

You patted your dress down and looked at him. “I should be going now huh?” You looked at the floor and started towards the door when he caught you by your arm

“Or”

You slowly turned back “or?”

“Just how much do you like reading?”

That day you accepted the a role in edmures council advising him on ways he could be fit his house from both past knowledge of finances and political alliances and you maybe had to explain his income sheets to him

Either way

You always found yourself at his side

Most of the decision you found he made himself were quite questionable

He grew to realize that to

And with your help his house and people started to love him more

And he only grew to love you more

Eventually edmure proposed to you and informed you that he couldn’t care less what house you came from

He needed you

And he wouldn’t let an alliance change that

[acequeenking]

winters nigh and summers o’er 2/?? ( G)

A collection of one-shots centered on Hades and Persephone's relationship; stories are non-chronological but all within the same timeline. Warnings and ratings are on individual chapters since these run the gamut from G to E. Updated weekly on Thursdays. (Previous Installments here!) 

Summary: “Do you want…?” Seph bit her lips and Demeter glared into her brother, because he damn well was at the moment of truth and if he blew it so help Zeus she would hurt that man if he messed this up. Demeter wasn’t kidding about gardening Hades like a particularly caustic onion if she had to. Maybe cut off a few shoots, too – wasn’t like they wouldn’t grow back. Eventually.

Demeter eyed the train tracks as the train came a stormin’ on. She glanced back at her daughter Persephone – still sleepin’ at the stop, spread out over the damn bench like a sacrifice, hand on her belly – and gathered her courage.

The old man – her baby brother, but he’d been old forever, even when they were wrong – came down the tracks in his big ol’ train, which Demeter was sure was compensating for somethin’, but they were past the point of petty insults right now in their relationship and, given recent developments, Demeter was trying to be in a forgiving and forgetting mood.

Still, Demeter held tight to her daughter’s luggage, not so much as daring to blink as she waited for the man to slow down and stop, which he did, though he made a real wreck of it, only hitting the brakes at the very last second. It was almost miraculous Seph could sleep through it, but then Seph hadn’t had an easy time of it lately. Demeter checked her watch: 12:00 pm exact. Ain’t nothin’ more exacting to the absolute second than death, she thought. She never liked her brother much but would give him credit for that: in the underworld, the train ran on damned time. Heh, damned time; that was a good enough joke she’d tell Seph when she was in the mood for a laugh again. Was a harmless enough joke that even her good-for-almost-nothing brother might find it funny.

Hades threw the door to her daughter’s car open, and Demeter watched with cool eyes as she took him in for the first time in six months. She couldn’t even remember the last time they’d all been together without bein’ at throats before that. She’d barely seen him six months past; he’d been hidden behind her daughter’s bags and had barely said five words to her. Now exposed, she took a good look at him. He’d aged more than she’d realized, and somehow that was surprising even though she had gone and done the same; her stomach finally filled out with motherly paunch, her hair finally gone all grey. His, somehow, had gone white, a shock of snow on that ol’ patrician face of daddy’s that Hades had finally, at long last, grown into. Body-wise he was mostly the same, big on top and super skinny underneath; still as broad in the chest as he always was, with legs too long and skinny for his own good. And still way too pale; if she was as dark as the earth, he was as pale as a death cap mushroom burstin’ up from the underneath.  Hard to believe her brother and her were the same species, let alone siblings.

“Well if it isn’t Demeter Carpophoros,” he said, bowing with a hint of sarcasm dripping from his tongue. Demeter took no offense at this. He was always a little shit. “Nice to see ya, though you aren’t who I was expectin’.”

He looked beyond her, and Demeter took in all the little signs of his anxieties that she knew he wouldn’t admit to: his sleeves were rolled up, so no doubt he’d  been pacin’; he had a slight frown in his face, and she knew he wondered if this was it, Persephone packin’ up his bags and sendin’ her momma to send him home alone; his eyebrows were moving behind those contemptible sunglasses, so she knew he was ruthlessly evaluating Demeter, trying to  decide what her story was and why she was here and thus, how rude he should be. Hades thought he was intimidating, but he had forgotten Demeter knew him from the moment he was born, and ain’t nothin’ intimidatin’ about a man once you changed his diapers, even death incarnate.

“She’s here, but…You and me? We gonna have a little talk first.” She shoved him back into his damn train car and Hades let her; he knew better than most what her wrath looked like. She held out Persephone’s luggage; her girl was packin’ light this year, just a couple of bags. Not bringin’ the drink cut her baggage down a lot, and Demeter was glad of that, provided this big lug didn’t make her baby girl wanna start drinkin’ again.  “Make yourself useful, brother.”

“First time you’ve called me that in a long time,” he drawled. “This it?”

“That’s it.” He frowned, but he took her daughter’s things and slowly, reverently put them on a luggage rack. He even tied them down which Demeter supposed was a good sign that he would be responsible enough to handle a small infant on his own in the summertime. Mostly. He was still a male god, and they were almost all useless in that department. Maybe since he was so old for a first-time father, he’d be old enough he’d actually figure out how to change a diaper instead of demanding a woman do it.

“Yeah, well. Maybe you can get used to me callin’ you brother again, if you keep behavin'.” He chuckled at that and dared to shoot her a little nervous grin. Demeter could always tell the difference on him; his tell was that the nervous smile was wider than the genuine, him showin’ off just a bit too much of those mean teeth. He stood to his full height as if he was readin’ her mind and didn’t like that she knew him that well. Or at least, she had, once. He looked down at her and she looked up. She felt her old annoyance at how he got to be so damn tall, like dad; she flecked off his sunglasses, an old-ass instinct that made her smile before she’d quite realized she had done it.

“Hey…” He blinked, confused as she tucked the sunglasses into his pocket. He wasn’t used to the upper world light. Too bad. She wanted her daughter to see him god damn plain when he saw her.

And, hell, she wouldn’t deny she wanted to see his expression, too.

“Sit.” He did, spread out like a king: legs wide, hands on his knees. He looked straight at her face, deadly serious, and she took her seat on the opposite side. She would give Hades credit for one thing: the seats on this jalopy were pretty comfy. And she supposed that the style wasn’t bad, if you considered saloon-room meets funeral parlor an aesthetic.

“What’s this about, Deme?”  His old childhood nickname for her slipped out of his mouth effortlessly, and she didn’t call him on it. She’d give him that back. If they were gonna be tryin’, then she would be, too.

“Our girl.” She snorted. “What else?”  He was a part of Persephone just as much as Demeter was, no matter how much Demeter didn’t like admittin’ that. They had been married a good few millennia now, so she supposed he was bound to rub off on her little girl a bit.

“What about her? Is she okay?” His words were all sotto-voice; soft, soft, soft. She could hear the love in his voice there, and fates only know how he got it in him, that love, because Hades had been colder than stone for the first forty thousand years of his life and by all the war reports Demeter had gotten he slipped right back into that damn often, but Demeter was almost thankful for him feelin’ that love, at least right now. There were worse men her baby girl could have reproduced with, if certainly there were better men, too. Least he was reliable.

“She’s sleepin’.” “…Sleeping?” He looked at her oddly. “Thought you said she was here.”

“She is. Sleepin’ on a bench out there. Exhausted, the poor little thing. Nodded off when we got here an hour ago. Didn’t even wake up when you pulled in.” Despite what was surely his best attempt to get her attention with that terrible din and clanging.

“Sleeping? At this hour?” He looked out into the sunlight, as if he was puzzled anyone could sleep in daytime. She supposed that was a normal enough reaction if someone was a miserable old mole who spent all day every day in the dark, which he was. “She okay?”

“Physically? Right as rain, but that girl is exhausted. She been worryin’ herself six months straight about you, boy,” she said, pointing her finger at his chest; she was probably one of only three people who could get away with calling Hades that and she basked in it. “I want you to know something, Hades: my daughter wrote you one hundred and eighty-two versions of the same damn letter, only to tear each and every one of ‘em up. I been watchin’ her tear those – and herself – up for months. Months. Ain’t been fun.”

“Oh.” He frowned, slightly pensive. Which was more expressive than he usually was, with anyone but Seph.

“I didn’t save’em, I respect her privacy too much for that.” And she had promised not to tell him, even if she wanted, badly, to do so. “Well...I didn’t get any of ‘em, but...We left on good terms, Deme. Better than…years.” He smiled a bit at that, and she wanted to roll her eyes, bite back and tell him, I know, how do you think my baby girl got herself in this mess? But she couldn’t say that, because he didn’t know about that mess just yet. He was still smiling, and, on another man, it might have been cute, but on him it came off as vaguely predatory; bragging. He didn’t need to. Frankly, everybody in the damn pantheon knew they on good terms; this had been the first springtime in years. Decades, even. ‘Bout to see the first autumn, too. He didn’t need to shout to the world they’d repaired their off-key tempo, the whole world could see it. Obvious.

Demeter frowned into her seat, debating how to best give her baby brother her …expectations as to how he should react to news she couldn’t give. Persephone had made her swear a Stygian oath on not tell ’im, and Demeter wasn’t willing to get washed down to Hades’ awful shores just yet for this, even if it meant more time with her daughter. “Ain’t about yer relationship. Something more basic than that. Some…life changes. She worries about your reaction because she’s a …a little bit different, then when she left ya last winter.”

“Oh.” He looked confused at that and she supposed she couldn’t blame him, because if you fired blanks for hundreds of thousands of years, you did tend to assume your pistol wasn’t loaded. Turned out, he was just a bad shot.  A ridiculously bad shot. But that wasn’t what he thought of; she could tell what he was thinkin’ of because he was lookin’ at her real intently, and she knew he was wonderin’ if maybe his girl was startin’ to look a little less too-young for him, and a little more like her momma. To his credit, he shook his head a second later. “So what if she goes a bit grey? We’ll match.”

Ain’t no way you two ever match, Demeter thought, but kept herself from saying. Persephone would be proud of her momma’s restraint, she thought. Well, she’d let him think it was a little grey hair for a bit.

“Good. Cuz I ain’t sayin’ it’s you, but her daddy…he didn’t react too good to this kind of thing, and that’s the only frame of reference she’s got for this and she’s scared. So you better do better than your brother. You go over there and you hold her and you tell her she’s the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen. Cuz you’ve put our girl through enough, you owe her that relief.”

“I know,” he mumbled, quiet; his cheeks were a bit pink, which meant he was at least a bit sorry for almost ending the world over his stupid-ass insecurities. “I… I am trying, Deme.” He said, visibly pained with his arms out, as if she’d been holding a gun on him; honestly, only great Gaia knew how he’d ever gotten to the point of bein’ able to tell her little girl anything, let alone marryin’ him, if he was still gonna be like this.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” She stood and he stood, too; they were done for the year. Autumn chill was in the air, and it was high time for Demeter to press some cider and for him to get along home. “Guess it’s time she goes back down to yer old abode, now.”

He nodded; Demeter stood to the side, let him go blinking into the sun, and followed closely behind. If he blew this, in any way, she would bury his ass in the backyard for a full six months and her daughter could visit him outside and water him with their ferns.  Demeter had checked with Zeus; that would technically count as allowing him his six months, long as he got to be with her.  Seph wouldn’t mind campin’ outdoors to fulfill his custody to the full letter of the law.

“Third row.” He tossed a raised eyebrow back at her – normally Seph sat up front, bright and ready —  well, she had back when he’d actually waitedinstead of just grabbin’ her soon as he got an itch, regardless of if it was June or August or gods forbid, May  – but well, he’d figure out the obvious reason in a moment. She noted his step got a bit faster, and she followed hot on his heels as he went down one row, two.

And then his breath caught. And he stopped. Demeter stopped next to him, watched him watch her little girl, all curled up with one hand over her wide, curving belly. Still looked a bit too much like a sacrifice for Demeter’s taste, but hell, that was probably a turn-on for him.

“Oh.” It was all he said, but there were thousands of emotions in it. He raised a hand, dropped it. Looked at her, blinked, looked back at Persephone. “Oh!” He said again, and Demeter had the pleasure of the King of the Dead completely, utterly shell-shocked.

Which, frankly, she savored. Wasn’t like he hadn’t pulled out the rug from under her once; they were even now.

“You see,” was all she said, quiet. She coulda bragged, but again, for Persephone, she would restrain herself. She didn’t know if they had ever talked about kids; she’d tried to talk to Persephone about it long ago, but all Persephone would say then was that they weren’t tryin’ yet in a harsh voice, and eventually one did stop asking after a few thousand years went by without a grandchild poppin’ up.  Her brothers gossiped that Hades’ takin’ on the role of the underworld’s master had dried up whatever he had stored up in his balls, but her brothers were idiots who frequently forgot there had been a god of the dead before Hades, and Iapetus had had five children during his time guardin’ the old downstairs. She thought it was probably the stress on her little girl from the constant travel, or a genuine desire from the both of ‘im to not make their frankly fucked up situation at the best of times even more so, but well — it hadn’t happened. And before this, she thought, that was probably for the best.

But now it had.

And Hades was — well, processing, because he clearly believed it would never happen later.

“Six months?!” He said at her, gesturing at her. “She couldn’t… Six months?!”

“Hundred and eighty letters, Hades,” she said, holding her hands out. “I know you might be mad, but – she's been distressed. Made me swear to not say a word, and gave Hermes such a run-around I think that old gossip is still dizzy. Come at her with venom in your mouth and you will lose her.” Truth was, Demeter understood why her daughter had been unable to tell him.

He exhaled, loud, through his mouth. Typical to Hades, he offered no indication of whether he was gonna take her advice or not.

She saw that big jaw move in an unreadable mull twice, then he closed the distance between him and their girl, falling to his knees in front of her. He ran a very shaky hand over Seph’s face, not quite daring to touch, just yet.

“You’re a little late, sunshine,” he sputtered; he stroked her face gently and Seph’s eyes opened, lookin’ like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders. She stared hard at his face, like she was trying to discern some divine truth out of his stone face, and he swallowed, but otherwise kept his face as stoic as the rock he generally was.

“I missed ya,” she murmured. His voice crumbled into something that might have been a laugh or a sob in response, but Seph smiled, and she decided it must be some joke between them that Demeter wasn’t privy to. Hades leaned forward, and Demeter blinked in surprise as her baby brother planted a kiss on her daughter’s forehead. She suspected he might kiss her on the mouth if Demeter wasn’t around, but well, Demeter was kind of happy he didn’t.  Weren’t on that good of terms yet. Seph wrapped her arms around him and hung onto him with desperate zeal, eyes shut tight, and Demeter knew her little girl was still nervous, though why she had no idea because it wasn’t like the man was blind, for all the time he spent down in the mines.

“Missed you, too.” The sotto voice again; soft and sweet as Hades got, which wasn’t very but evidently was enough for her little girl. His hand was caressing her arm now, trying to get up the courage to go further down she suspected. Seph shrugged him off a bit, pushed up to a sitting position or at least attempted to; she did not miss that and Seph was larger now than she’d been right before the girl had come.  After watchin’ her struggle for a moment, Hades stumbled to help her maneuver up, to his admittedly limited credit. She expected him to get up and grab her hand, let them finish this conversation on the train in private, but — he didn’t. Instead, he just shifted a bit, moving between her legs so he could lay the side of his head on her belly.

Nobody moved for a long, long moment.

“It is yours—  Seph said, and Hades and Demeter both snorted; it was obvious it was his. Beyond obvious.

“I know. Can I…?” He asked, hand out-stretched.

“It is yours,” Seph said, her voice wavering. Demeter bit back a snort watching her brother’s face, still severe, as he pressed a curious hand to her belly, slowly rubbing little circles in the fabric of her dress as if the dress would reach out and devour his arm.

“Do you want…?” Seph bit her lips and Demeter glared into her brother, because he damn well was at the moment of truth and if he blew it so help Zeus she would hurt that man. She wasn’t kidding about gardening him like a particularly caustic onion if she had to. Maybe cut off a few shoots, too – wasn’t like they wouldn’t grow back. Eventually.

“I want, beautiful.” Hades leaned into Persephone with a soft sigh, glancing up at her. “I want.”

And her daughter’s eyes closed and that — well, it wasn’t quite the flowery language her little girl deserved, but it was enough for her. Her daughter smiled, and Demeter relaxed. She knew she should leave’em then, let them have their time, but it was a charmin’ tableau even if Hades was in it, and she couldn’t think of the last time all three of ‘em had been gathered together with anything less than bitterness between them, so she savored the moment.

And though she’d never ever tell them it, maybe her heart did melt for the old bastard just a tiny bit when her brother’s lips pressed a kiss into Seph’s belly, fondness surprisingly evident in his stern old face. “Hello there, little shoot.”

“Shoots,” her daughter said, barely audible. That had been the part Demeter was happiest about, truth be told: she had always regretted not giving Persephone a sister or two. She’d had Arion, but Arion was, well, a horse, and it was hard to cross that divide when it came to children’s’ games. At least her grandchildren would never know the loneliness of being the only child in the family.

Besides, Hera never had triplets in her line, not even in all her grandbabies, so now Demeter had something to brag about up on the mountain.

“…Shoots?” He looked up abruptly with his jaw hanging a bit open and Demeter actually did have to hide her own mouth to stop from laughing because his look was, well – dumb-founded. Persephone reached out and shut his jaw with an audible click, looking aside to her mother with a look that expressed her amusement at her husband’s idiocy.  “So…how many branches are we addin’ to the family tree?” He asked, and Demeter had to laugh, because she could see her baby brother runnin’ actuary tables in his head already as far as what his kids were gonna cost him.

“Three.” He looked at her belly again, the look starting to skirt closer to terror but not quite getting there, morphing somewhere along the way into a mix of complicated emotions, and settling on what looked like a complicated sort-of happiness — or as happy as Hades got, which was a small genuine smile with his eyes closed.

“Well…good. Our little bramble, briar and thorn won’t be lonely.”  He chuckled deep into her belly. “Ain’t like they got a lot of little cousins to play with.”

“Yes, you two well and truly did wait long enough,” Demeter huffed. “Don’t even know what’s left for them to be Gods of.”

“We’ll find somethin’.” Her brother stood, though it took him a moment, his knees cracking; he was so old, Demeter thought ruefully. They all were. Standing and looking a tiny bit more distinguished now, he held out his hand. “Do you… should you…stay? Til…” Demeter could see how much it pained him to offer her that, after six months of waitin’. He couldn’t stay up-top, not that long. Death wasn’t really allowed much of a holiday, which had been the one thing that she enjoyed about her daughter’s marriage, early on: he never could follow her everywhere, and she suspected he might have tried had he been dealt a smaller lot.

“No. I missed ya.” Her daughter got up, or at least tried; she faltered, forced already into that odd waddle that Demeter would be sorry to miss the final culmination of.  Seph was already much bigger than she should be, but Demeter blamed Hades for that.  He helped her stand — a bit late again, but faster than last time, he was learnin’ — and offered his arm. Persephone leaned into it and Demeter felt an odd pang of something – not quite gratitude, not quite sadness. Zeus had never done such for her, and a few thousand years ago — great grandmother Gaia, six months ago, she wouldn’t have thought Hades would, either.

When she’d seen him then—red rimmed eyes, mouth trembling as he held out Seph's bags in an awkward peace gesture—she hadn’t, really, imagined she ever would again.

“Besides…” Seph started and looked at her momma with an unreadable look for a moment, and Hades and Demeter both looked at her, and she could see in Hades’ face the mirror of her own: curiosity and worry crashing together.

“The children should be…born at home,” Seph murmured, in that quiet way her daughter had of saying important things in an almost flippant way.  Demeter flinched; she didn’t consider the underworld Seph’s home as much as an eternal, if temporary, inconvenience. Hades took her daughter’s declaration better: his arms closed around her and she saw his hand tremble as he embraced her, smoothin’ down her hair.  

“I’d like that,” he said softly. “Like that a lot.”

And she knew, of course, that was why Seph had said it. Tryin’ worked both ways, and makin’ their babies underworld natives meant they’d be a lot more like their daddy than their momma. Her daughter curled her hands over his shoulders and they stood together for a long moment. And Demeter thought, maybe, well, maybe she was wrong they didn’t fit together. Because while they looked fucking ridiculous — her daughter as gorgeous a sunshine child as always, Hades as dour a shadow as had ever been made — they looked happy. And maybe Demeter could let her go, just a bit; Seph knew her momma always had her back, anyway.

Demeter moved back to them, gently tapped them both on the shoulder. “You’re runnin’ late. Better get goin’.”

“I’ll be back when — when its time,” Hades said, a little quiver in his voice and she bit back a you had damn better and instead smiled, nodded.

“I’ll be here,” she said, tapping Persephone’s shoulder; her daughter turned toward her, and she pressed her lips to their girl’s forehead with the last bit of summer-time in her kiss. “Now get goin’.”

Demeter should have turned and walked back to her home, squeezed some apples into cider, but she watched them board and watch the train the whole way down the track, not turning to walk back home til the train was no longer visible, til its whistle had long stopped echoing.

The first fall leaves in a long damned time crunched under her feet the whole way back, and Demeter smiled.

Mythology notes:

The name Hades calls Persephone's momma Demeter when he first sees her, Demeter Carpophoros, was one of her surnames that was used in cult in Tegea and Paros and meaning, roughly, "fruit bearer." Hades might be showing respect, and might be not-so-subtly suggesting she produce the fruit he wants (eg Persephone).

Arion is Persephone's half-brother, Demeter's son via Poseidon according to Pseudo-Apollodorus and Pausanias. And yes, he is a horse.

The triplets are a reference to the Orphic hymns, which attribute the Erinyes/Furies as three daughters of Hades and Persephone: "[Erinyes] from Zeus Khthonios (Chthonius) [Haides] born, and Persephone, whom lovely locks adorn."

Next week's story will be goin' back, way back.

[citrus-moonlight]

Salvation is a Deep Dark Well

Chapter 2: Raise Your Chin and Howl

[ Masterlist - Part Two ] -> [ Masterlist - Part One ]

Fandom: MCU - Age of Ultron, Black Panther Pairing: Ulysses Klaue x F! Reader Word count: 9.7K Chapters: 2/6 Rating: Explicit

Summary: The actions of others leads to chaos at the compound, and after Klaue returns to deal with the aftermath you're surprised to learn that his reasons for being upset aren't what you think, and you finally have to admit some things that you've been denying.

Warnings: Explicit!, Mild Age Difference, Reader is Late 30s, Use of Pet Names, Injury, Workplace Injury, Mention of Blood, Reference to Guns, Insecurity (Reader is an Idiot), Light Angst, Smut, Dirty Talk, Teasing, Reference to Masturbation (M), Finger Sucking, Spit Kink, Oral Sex (M receiving), Brief Rough Oral, Cock Worship, Messy Blowjob, Mouth Fucking, Cum Swallowing, Hair Holding/Pulling, Guided Masturbation (F), Mild Size Kink, Soft Dom, Teasing, Praise Kink, Porn With Plot, More Accidental Feelings Oh No

AN: Welcome back, friends! It's been quite a while since I updated this one, but I'm excited to finally bring you so more of these two! it wasn't so much that this one got away from me, but what I wanted (and needed) to do with it was getting more involved, and ultimately I'm happy with how this ended up turning out. Especially since I also accidentally wrote a holiday "interlude" story that comes after this but before what was supposed to be the next chapter (which is now chapter four), which was simultaneously challenging and helpful in finding the right balance in this part as things progress.

As always, thank you for reading and to everyone who has commented or reblogged so far, and I am unendingly grateful to those who have provided encouragement and support through this writing of this story. I hope that you enjoy! 💕

AO3 Link

Title is from "Hands Like Roots" by The Builders and the Butchers

And if thee should die tonight Well it won't be without a sound When your hands move like roots Making their way through the ground

The afternoon is crisp but bright when you step outside, the sun actively working to melt much of the late autumn snow that had fallen overnight. 

You’d only gone out to take a quick inventory of the oxygen and argon stock, but when you make your way past the loading dock to get to the storage cages you see something that makes you pause and do a double take.

On the compound’s property there are three industrial propane tanks that power and heat the facility, and today they were scheduled to be refilled before the snow properly settles in the mountains making the roads difficult to access during winter.

The refilling had already been completed and the tankers should have been long on their way, so you’re surprised when you see what appears to be a fuel transfer being done between the two bobtail trucks, which is illegal except in special circumstances, and making it more concerning they're also uncomfortably close to the loading dock. 

On top of that, as far as you’re aware this compound isn’t licensed to allow truck to truck transfers at all - something that would normally only be done at the refilling plant - making it doubly illegal

And while this might not be a facility where “legality” is necessarily a top concern, that doesn’t change the fact that it’s still dangerous and incredibly stupid. 

“What are you doing?” You blurt out, standing stock-still as you stare at Anatoly, the man who seems to be directing what’s happening. You weren’t necessarily on friendly terms with the Sokovian man, but you had chatted occasionally and he’d seemed to have more sense than this.

“We didn’t want to do it right next to the big tanks.” He gestures across the yard.

You continue to stare, perplexed. 

“Ok, well, you shouldn’t be doing it here at all, but now you’re right next to the building, and the five pound tanks -” 

“It was the only place flat enough for both trucks.”

“- are a lot closer than those big ones.” 

“Don’t worry, it’s fine.” He brushes you off, starting to get visibly frustrated that you won’t let it go.

Changing tacks you turn to one of the drivers who’s in conversation with Milo, a welder you recognize from another shift.

“Hey, you know you’re not supposed to be doing this here, right?”

“He doesn’t know how, so I’m doing it for him,” Anatoly replies before the driver can answer himself. “You’re making a big deal from nothing.”

“Why are you doing it at all? Unless there’s an emergency you can’t just -”

“I’ve done it before.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Listen, they both would've had to go back to their plant, but now one can go straight to the next job.”

“So let me get this straight: Doing a favour for someone whose job doesn’t have anything to do with you is a good enough reason to create a potentially dangerous situation here? I don’t think that Klaue will love hearing that.”

“You’re not going to tell him.” His annoyed demeanor quickly shifts, his expression going icy.

“No? Why wouldn’t I? You’re doing something incredibly stupid and I think that he should-”

“So you’re going to snitch on me?” He sneers.

“About this? Yeah, I guess I am. And if you’re concerned about him finding out then you must have at least enough common sense to-”

“I don’t need common sense to know that you- ”

“Jesus Christ, would you let me finish a fucking sentence!”

Your voice surprises you and to Anatoly’s credit he actually shuts up, scowling like a petulant teenager who’s realizing that they’re not going to be able to intimidate their way out of trouble. 

The other workers who had been milling around and watching half-interestedly now straighten up and turn towards the trucks.

“You.” Gesturing at both drivers, pleased that they at least appear to be somewhat chastised. 

“You are supposed to be in control at all times. These trucks are your responsibility from start to finish and you’re letting him do something that’s illegal just to save a bit of time?”

“He offered!” The first one exclaims.

“Which he shouldn’t have, but you should have said no and moved on.”

You turn back to Anatoly whose mouth is downturned in an almost comical grimace. 

“And you may think this is no big deal but I very much doubt that Klaue would appreciate you being so flippant about potentially damaging his operation.”

He looks like he wants to say something else but bites his tongue, his stare still condescending even though he knows you’re right and has no argument left. 

At this point, and while you wouldn’t be surprised to learn it, you’re not yet aware that there’s a crack in the hose near to the end connected to the receiving truck. Before you’d even gone outside propane vapour had been steadily leaking out, the only indication that there was a problem the occasional whiff of mercaptan - faint and not out of the ordinary from a typical delivery.

Normally this wouldn’t be an issue and the vapours would simply disperse since you’re outdoors, but it’s unusually calm today with next to no breeze to move the air, allowing the heavier than air propane molecules to instead pool between the trucks like an invisible low-lying fog.

As it is, you’re relieved when everything is finally disconnected and sealed up, and having abandoned your inventory you turn to make your way back inside to try to get this documented, even if others think that you really are overreacting and Anatoly doesn’t face the consequences you think he should.

“You know, maybe next time you could- ”

You’re cut off again, but instead of a condescending comment this time it's by the sudden percussion of an explosion. 

When the full truck’s engine started up an unknown faulty battery sparked and ignited the vapours that had been collecting, the flashback loud enough that your ears don’t register the sound until you’re already on the ground. 

Fortunately you manage not to hit your head but your shoulder feels like you’re lucky it didn’t dislocate when you landed. Slowly pushing yourself up onto your elbow you look around, blinking until your vision slowly comes back into focus and you realize with a sinking feeling that the truck itself is now burning, flames appearing to emerge from one of the valves at the rear.

“Goddamnit,” you curse, momentarily frozen in place as you watch the flames growing quickly in front of your eyes. 

You know that as the temperature rises the pressure inside the tanker does as well, and it needs to be stopped before the valve can no longer vent faster than the pressure is building, and  you have no way of knowing whether any of the internal mechanisms were damaged in the explosion, so you may have even less time than normal.

Finally you manage to convince your muscles to move. Sucking in a breath you grit your teeth and force yourself to standing, moving as quickly as you can to reach the cabinet that houses the fire extinguishers, and then Milo is suddenly there next to you.

“I’ll take this one,” he offers and you quickly nod your thanks. Maneuvering over to the truck you unspool your hose and get as close as you can until the heat of the flames forces you back.

Stumbling briefly from the recoil when you pull the nozzle’s lever back you grimace at the sudden jolt of pain in your shoulder but manage to recover quickly, widening your stance to better brace yourself and focus the thick white cloud on the brightest part of the fire. 

Thankfully the flames seem to be quickly smothered and you move closer as the heat begins to die down. Occasionally you or Milo alternate your focus on the truck’s own fuel tank, working to extinguish the burning propane while also trying to prevent the diesel from possibly igniting as well. 

You can see Tom in your peripheral now, dimly aware of him barking directions, relieved that someone else was there to take charge, and even when the fire appears to be doused you keep your hoses pointed at the truck until both extinguishers have been completely emptied.

Finally, after what feels like hours but was probably less than fifteen minutes since you had walked outside you take a deep, shaky breath and simply sit down right where you stand in the mess of slush and extinguisher residue.

You can almost feel the adrenaline physically draining out of your system, your jaw involuntarily clenching as you begin to shiver. You’re not sure who’s hand squeezes your shoulder, your mind feels fuzzy as mild shock sets in, and it takes conscious effort to release your grip from the hose that’s still sitting across your lap and slowly stand back up.

You're buzzing wildly between a range of emotions: anger, frustration, relief, a blanket of exhaustion settling over all of it as you waver on unsteady legs, tamping down the thoughts of how much more badly this could have gone.

Two days after the incident with the trucks and the ringing in your ears has nearly stopped, and aside from stiff muscles and a painterly bruise blooming across your shoulder you'd come out of it all more or less unscathed.

Once the chaos had wound down and things could be assessed it was fortunate that damage was minimal and the overall injuries turned out to be minor, mostly cuts and bruises from being knocked over or from the burst of gravel from the initial explosion. Even the alarming amount of blood you'd seen running down Anatoly’s face ended up just being a superficial gash.

There are already at least two versions of what happened circulating through the facility, one casting your actions more favourably and one much less so (no question where that one started), though you’re not particularly concerned which version others decide to believe. Enough people witnessed what actually happened, and regardless you know that what you did was the right thing, and you’re confident that Klaue will see that.

You haven’t had a chance to talk to him yet but he's supposed to be on his way back, abandoning the South African coast early to assess the damage and meet with the kind of investigators that a facility that doesn’t exist in the strictest sense will allow.

Although you have his return to look forward to, you can’t help still feeling on edge as the dregs of adrenaline continue to circulate in your blood, and you regularly have to force yourself to take a deep inhale when you realize that your breathing has gone shallow again.

Fortunately you’ve had a simple job the last couple of days, spending your shift taking apart scrap metal to be sent to a foundry to be melted down. Oxy acetylene cutting can be physically taxing and it's hot as hell but it doesn’t require finesse, and right now you’re happy to simply let muscle memory guide you, focusing only on regulating the flow of gas and keeping the glide of the flame’s sharp tip steady as you work. 

You’re waiting for the disassembled pieces you'd just cut to cool before moving them so that you can start on the next section when there’s a sudden burst of activity at the entrance to the shop, and when you turn towards the disturbance you see that Klaue has just walked in.

His eyes have already found you but the swell of excitement at seeing him unexpectedly is quickly replaced by confusion when you register his dark expression.

“You.” He points, singling you out from the crowd. “Come with me.”

Your mouth drops open in surprise at the anger in his tone, and when you don’t immediately move to follow he raises his eyebrows, impatience clear in the tight set of his jaw.

“Now.” He grits through clenched teeth.

“Ohh, someone’s in trouble.” 

You whip around to find the source of the taunt, the anger and frustration that you haven’t fully processed surging out in a red-hot wave, and the words are out before you can think.

“Shut the fuck up!” 

The idiot is looking at you like he’s made some world-class joke and you're ready to lay into him, but suddenly his focus moves behind you and the smirk drops away as the blood drains from his face.

Slowly turning to follow his eyes you see Klaue standing as still as a steel lathe with his arm extended, but it takes several seconds for you to register that the leather holster on his leg is empty and his gun now aimed at the center of the man's chest.

“Shit.” You gasp. 

All of the oxygen seems to have been sucked out of the room and you're rooted to the spot, your hearing gone muffled and tinny. The joker’s eyes are flashbulb wide, standing with his arms jutting into the air as though that might have any impact on what happens next.

Every inch of Klaue appears calm, you might almost say he was relaxed if it weren't for the weapon in his hand. But the unmistakable fury in his eyes colours them nearly black, an obsidian blade glinting in the shadows simply waiting for an excuse to strike, and though he speaks quietly you know that everyone watching this happen can hear every word clear as day. 

“If you ever speak to her about anything other than this job again...” 

He doesn't finish the sentence, he doesn't have to, the sound of the safety lever being flicked off is deafening. The only movement in the room is the flex of tendons in Klaue's hand as his thumb deftly finds the switch.

You’re not sure whether the man is actually breathing, and even though your own heart is pounding out of your chest you find that you’re not exactly upset about the look of abject fear in his eyes.

“No! I mean I won’t! I didn’t mean anything, I’m sorry I-” he stammers, panicked eyes flicking back and forth between the weapon and Klaue’s face, forcing his hands almost comically high until his biceps are covering his ears. 

No one else speaks.

After several more excruciating seconds you finally hear the click of the safety re-engaging and you let out the breath you’d been holding as he slowly replaces the gun in its holster.

Then he turns back to you and repeats:

“Now.”

You have to work to keep up with Klaue’s brisk pace as you make your way through the warren of hallways, eventually ending up in an area you’d only passed by before. You follow him into a room filled with various pieces of vaguely familiar military equipment, a heavy desk and a bank of monitors against one wall, and in your still flustered state it’s only when he closes the door behind you that you realize that he’s taken you to his office.

He walks over and leans on the desk, weight braced on his knuckles as his shoulders rise and fall, each breath slow and deep.

He doesn’t speak, doesn’t look at you - in fact he hasn’t looked at you since he’d turned away expecting you would follow.

“Klaue?”

You think that you note a brief hitch in his breathing, but beyond that he doesn’t respond. 

“Listen, it’s been a long couple of days and I’d really appreciate it if you’d tell me what’s going on.”

“What you did was dangerous.” He replies quietly, finally seeming to find his words.

You sigh. You’re not entirely surprised that that’s what this is about but you’re still irritated and your lingering anger is back at the surface, leaving you fighting to keep your response measured. You’re not the one who’d done anything wrong. You thought he’d understand that.

“I did what needed to be done, that whole situation was getting worse by the second.“

“You put yourself in harm's way. There was no need to get that close when there had already been an explosion.”

“So was I just supposed to stand around with my mouth hanging open like almost everyone else? Or walk away and pretend that nothing was happening?”

“You didn’t need to get yourself involved, period. Those men would have dealt with the consequences of their actions.”

You throw your hands up in resignation.

“This is perfect, I was one of the few people actually trying to help, and yet I’m the one you’re taking it out on? That seems par for the course in all of this.”

Finally Klaue turns around to face you.

“I’m not- ”

"What about Milo? Or more importantly the asshole that actually caused the whole fucking mess??" You're close to yelling now, unable to help it as your anger and disappointment finally boil over.

"Do you really think he hasn't already been dealt with?” He replies sharply. “He’s gone, and won't be stepping foot in another shop anywhere, ever again. I'll be making sure of it.”

There's something flat in his eyes that cloaks the usual sharp blue.

“Ok, well…good.” You’re happy to hear it, though you’re still only somewhat placated. “But that doesn’t change the fact that the damage could have been so much worse if that truck had kept burning. I had to do something."

"That shouldn’t be your concern. I would have handled it."

“More people would have gotten injured.”

“I’m aware.”

“Or killed!"

"You could have gotten- "

He cuts himself off with a sharp exhale, fists balled tight at his sides. 

He hasn’t raised his voice until now, but it's his tone and the way his words waver that gives you pause. As you watch Klaue collect himself you feel something trying to work its way into your chest - something that’s whispering to you what that clouded look in his eyes might have been. 

Fear.

He’s visibly tense, lips pressed in a thin line as he takes a step toward you, broad shoulders curling inwards in an almost protective posture.

“I know you didn’t have anything to do with the accident, and that you wanted to help. But what you did still wasn't-”

He stops again and it surprises you, normally so certain of his words and not exactly afraid to speak his mind, you instead watch the muscles of his jaw working as his eyes burn into yours.

“This is a risky job.” You finally break the silence, trying to reason with him, taking your own tentative step closer to him. “Even when I’m not working for an arms dealer, by the way. Anywhere in this trade mistakes like that can happen.”

There’s a soft “careful” in the quick tilt of his head, and even now you feel a spark of relief at the flash of that familiar part of him.

“And you got hurt here.” 

You only realize that your hand has been rubbing your bruised shoulder when you notice his eyes have shifted to watch your fingers.

“So did other people! Why am I being singled out? What is the concern about me?” 

A part of him seems to drift from you again, and when he doesn’t respond a vice of cold steel begins to tighten around your chest. Has he discerned the real question that was hidden in your words? Is he angry? Disappointed? Indifferent?

Damnit, you curse yourself. 

You wished you hadn’t said it  but the recent stress has eroded your filters and you couldn’t help but push. Even though you’re not going to get the answer you can barely admit that you want.

“If you had really been hurt. If you had gotten killed..” 

When his eyes focus on you again there’s a coldness in them that you’ve only seen hints of before, but now it’s right there at the surface, clear and sharp and seething.

“That man wouldn’t be gone, he would be dead.” 

Oh.

Klaue’s words are laced with a calm certainty that sets your heart racing, your skin prickling hot under the weight of his gaze as you stand there shocked silent by his admission, unsure how to respond.

Just as suddenly as it appeared the cold begins to melt away, his eyes sweeping over you as if confirming that you’re still there, still whole and standing in front of him.

“Did you think I wouldn’t be concerned about you?” He asks, a curious frown knitting his brows.

You’re not sure how to respond to that either and you’re quiet for several long moments, chewing your lower lip while you consider, nervous for a different reason now.

He’s pushing you back, and it’s what you wanted (what you needed), not letting you get away with hiding, because if you’re going to ask the question you need to answer it, too.

But he must know it’s not a simple question, and right now you can’t give him a simple answer.

“I don’t…know what this is.” You start, haltingly. 

The first threads of an admission that there’s something for this to be. 

An admission that although a part of you has known it since the first night he slowly, achingly buried himself inside you, you can no longer pretend that he hasn’t already ruined you.

”Neither do I.” He concedes, slowly closing the last steps that separate you, surprised to find yourself relaxing at his words. It's not an answer, not yet, but still an acknowledgement, that you’re both uncertain but unable to help the way that you’re drawn together. Moths lost in the dark, instinctively picking up on the invisible spark of the other.

His hand reaches up to touch the shoulder that you'd been massaging.

“Let me see.” Klaue rumbles softly as he moves to lift the edge of your shirt, and silently you help him work your arm from the sleeve before he pulls the garment the rest of the way off, leaving you in your sports bra.

“I don’t know that I have to know, but I-” 

You start to speak but then inhale a sharp breath when his palm slides over your shoulder, soothing the bruised warmth, fingers also dance along the scar on your other arm which was fortunately not the side you’d landed on.

“And I don’t know if I can tell you.” His frown deepens as he takes in the angry bloom of purpling skin. “But I haven’t been able to think about anyone else since you’ve been here.” 

You hadn’t assumed anything but you can’t help the sting of relief, even as you fight to hold back the dam of want that’s cracking open beneath your ribs.

But when his hand slides up over your shoulder, your neck, tilting your head so that you meet his eyes, you realize that it's a battle you've already lost.

Your fingers curl around his wrist, the other hand pressing flat against the firm warmth of his chest. 

“I hadn’t been seeing anyone for a while, before Utrech..” You start and then pause, your eyes slipping closed with a sigh as you sink into the sensation of his palm against your cheek. “But even when I was still trying to pretend that I didn’t…since then it hasn’t even occurred to me to think about anyone but you.” 

“Is that right?” Klaue’s voice hums with a pleased timbre though his eyes flick searchingly across your face.

“Yes. There’s no one else. Not now, not-”

Not ever.

“No one has ever come close to making me feel the way you do, Ulysses. And maybe I don’t know what this is, but…I know that I don’t want to stop.” 

The last words come out in a breathless rush, forced out before you can overthink and lock them away again. Finally admitting it as much to yourself as to him.

“I’m not going to stop, darling. Not a fucking chance.” 

You nearly laugh with giddy relief but it’s interrupted when his hand tightens around your jaw, leaning in so that his mouth is hovering over yours as you press your body flush against him, arching into the stiffening ridge of his erection that juts into your hip.

You try to angle your mouth to find the warmth of his lips against yours, but strong hands continue to hold you just there, a breath apart. The air has shifted, a charge growing in the dwindling space between you that leaves your skin tingling from the near contact, and when you feel a faint brush of his lips against yours an audible whine slides from your throat.

“That night, after the bar, I thought about you.” Klaue continues.

“You did?” 

“Yes.” He nearly groans the word. “Thought about how you'd taste when you come.” 

The wet heat that’s been building in your core surges at his words, at the sudden image of him flushed and sweaty, his fist moving in rough strokes over his swollen cock and the thought of you in his head.

One of your hands begins to slide between your bodies, needy fingers plucking at his belt, reaching beneath the waistband and tugging.

“Thought about taking you into the back, finding a quiet corner, having you on your knees in front- in front of me.” His voice hitches and he shudders when you find the now stiff curve of his cock beneath the fabric.

“And then..when you were there, kneeling, I was sure I was dreaming. But you were so much better than my dreams. Such a tease, weren’t you?” He hums, and you can hear the grin even as his voice drops to a rasp of granite and silk. 

“Thinking you could get away with that.”

Klaue’s hips rock into your touch as you squeeze more firmly, sliding your hand along the shape of him, rewarded with a harsh sigh as he pulls back and fixes his eyes fix on yours. You thrill at the heat that you find there, helplessly reaching for the flames that lick against your skin. 

That invite you to burn.

“I didn’t think that for a second. But I already apologized, didn’t I?” 

A flash of him holding you against the door, desperation on your lips as he finally let you fall apart.

“Oh, you thought that was your apology? Getting to come on my fingers?”

“I didn’t, I mean-” You stammer, the movement of your hand faltering even as his admonition sends another wave of heat through your body.

“I’m afraid not, darling. And right now..” Your eyelids flutter and it takes a moment to realize that he’s waiting to make sure he has your attention.

“Y-yes?”

“Maybe I do.”

“You do…what?” Frowning, you try to figure out his meaning through the growing haze of arousal.

“Want to take it out on you.”

Your eyes snap to his, molten sapphire when you meet them.

“And maybe,” Klaue’s thumb swipes across the corner of your lips. “I want to take it out on this mouth of yours.”

His eyes flick down to catch your tongue peeking out as you reflexively lick your lips.

“Because a day hasn’t gone by that I haven’t thought about that sweet promise you made on your knees.” 

His thumb slides against the seam of your lips, smug when they part easily beneath the pressure.

He tsks, but any response you might give is cut off when he pushes past your teeth and your tongue gratefully tastes the calloused skin. But just as you move to take his thumb deeper into your mouth he pulls back, quickly replacing it with his index and middle fingers before you can lament the loss, and you can’t help but moan around the thick digits.

Eagerly you begin to slide your mouth along them, slowly bobbing your head, taking them further until they’re far enough back that your gag reflex triggers and your body stiffens, squeezing your eyes shut as you force yourself to take slow breaths.

Eventually your eyelids flutter open again, your focus coming back to him and the pleased look in his eyes.

Once you catch your breath you increase the suction of your lips to pull his fingers a little deeper, your tongue teasing around and between his two fingers, the texture of his warm skin contrasted with the smooth edges of his ring.

The next time you pull back he takes the opportunity to add a third finger, his other hand reaching up to cup the back of your neck, gently but firmly holding your head in place as he slides them all the way into your mouth again until his thumb and pinky are cradling your jaw.

Klaue’s mouth has dropped open, his breathing gone rough as he watches your lips stretching around his fingers. Both of your hands have moved to grip his shirt, steadying yourself, your eyes beginning to water as your breath comes in quick gasps.

“Shhh,” he soothes. “Just like that.”

His fingers stay where they are until your breathing slows again, nearly wincing at the deep velvet of his gaze on you, soft but inescapable. 

You still feel the instinct to gag, but once your throat relaxes the rest of you follows, and you sigh as he withdraws a little, rubbing gentle circles against your tongue. Your inhibitions are quickly falling away as you become focused only on more, moaning as his fingers continue to move, the thumb of his hand that’s curled around your neck caressing the sensitive skin there.

A heady thrum of desire is growing, settling deep between your thighs as you watch him through heavy-lidded eyes as he alternates between slowly pumping and then pressing deep and holding there, pleased when your breathing evens out more quickly every time.

Watching his expression cloud over with lust it occurs that you’d never really thought about how much he liked this. How watching your lips, and feeling your warm, slick mouth around his fingers as they grow shiny with your spit has him barely hanging on.

“That’s my needy girl.” 

Klaue’s words are a sigh, almost a release, the tension when you had first followed him ebbing from his body, smoothing the set of his shoulders as his fingers continue to move.

You shudder again, unable to hold back the keening sounds from escaping your throat, your center already soaked and aching and you don’t even have his cock in your mouth yet.

“What’s the matter, isn’t this enough?” His words are cut with a smug glint of gold, seeming to guess what you’re thinking about.

And honestly you would let him keep doing this if he wanted, turning you into a mindless mess with just his fingers and only your eyes able to plead wordlessly for more. But he said he was going to fuck your mouth, and the narrowing of your eyes answers his question.

His unoccupied hand releases your neck and takes one of your hands, returning it to the waist of his pants where you quickly work at his belt and zipper, determined though distracted by the continued slip and drag through your lips. 

Eventually you manage to reach beneath the fabric to grip his hard length, your other hand tugging the layers down until you’re able to free his cock. The movement of his fingers falters at your touch but then he’s grinning when your moans become more plaintive, saliva spilling from the corners of your mouth as your hand hungrily strokes the intoxicating heat of him.

“Now, don’t swallow.” Klaue murmurs.

You have a split second to frown before he withdraws, realization dawning when you have to quickly close your mouth to keep from drooling.

Unable to reply, you wait a beat before your eyebrows raise in a question.

“On your knees.” His hand drops, slick fingers replacing yours where they’re wrapped around his length.

Your breath catches with anticipation, and unable and unwilling to hide how eager you are now you keep your eyes on his as you sink down slowly until the thick circle of his fist is directly in front of you, the slit already leaking as he strokes himself. 

The sight of it has you aching, desperate for your lips to replace the languid slide of his fingers, to take him deep into your mouth then and nose into the dark, grey-flecked hair that spreads from the base of him.

“Now, spit on my cock, darling.”

Your reverie suddenly broken you look up to see him watching you intently, eyes dark and commanding, his hand now gripping the thick base, holding himself out to you.

Waiting.

Still unable to reply, all you can do - all you want to do - is acquiesce. So you lean forward and slowly let the saliva slide from your parted lips until it drops onto the head of his cock, his palm quickly gathering and dragging your offering down his length, groaning at the slide of it beneath his fingers.

Only when you hear the low timbre of his laugh do you realize that you’re practically pouting as your eyes eagerly follow the movement of his hand.

You lean forward again, glossy lips parting in anticipation, but his other hand quickly reaches to grasp your hair and stops you. 

You’re agonizingly close, not caring how desperate you must look straining against his grip as your tongue flicks out, the sounds of skin on slick skin making you increasingly desperate to taste him as he holds you just out of reach of what you want.

“Look at you.” Klaue croons.“You’re always switched on. You’re strong and I can see how hard you work, and I want you to know how much I appreciate that.”

You flush at his praise, briefly distracted from your conquest.

“But when I use your mouth…then I get to watch you let go. I can tell that you don’t like to do it for yourself, so I’m going to do it for you. Going to empty that head of yours.”

His hips nudge toward you and this time when your lips drop open he lets you move to meet him.

He sucks a hiss through his teeth when you press a wet kiss against the thick head of his cock, chased by a relieved groan as you let your lips smear the glisten of precum that continues to leak there, fresh heat blooming between your legs at the sounds this draws from him.

You keep the muscles of your jaw relaxed and pliant as you press slowly forward. Not sucking yet, simply using the head of his cock to part your lips to slide over the already slick skin, slowly and thoroughly mapping the shape of him with your mouth.

And he's right, of course. You can feel yourself relaxing as you finally taste the musk of his heated skin, humming contentedly as your tongue swirls around the head and drags over the sensitive frenulum, the tension of the last few days finally draining away with every languorous slip of your mouth. 

A different kind of tension quickly swelling deep in your core.

“Jesus.” Klaue sighs above you as you gradually take him deeper, one hand braced on his thigh while the other wraps around him, his cock achingly hard beneath your fingers. 

Still loosely holding your hair he's letting you work him, your own pleased moans slipping from your throat as you lick hungrily over every ridge and vein, savouring the salty tang of his velvet-slick skin warm against your tongue

Pleasure thrums through your body, growing hotter with the attention you’re giving him, but as you take him deeper again, your lips stretching wider, realization flickers in the back of your mind that you haven’t even taken him halfway yet and you’re already growing overwhelmed by how full your mouth is. 

But, god, the ragged sound he makes when you slide down until his cock nudges the back of your throat makes your cunt throb, so you pull back so that you’re holding just the tip of him between your lips and then you do it again, reveling in every inch that you can take.

Slowly you build a steady rhythm until saliva is dripping down your chin, he's continuing to let you control the pace for now, allowing you to breathe and adjust until he’s deeper than when he was on the couch.

Your hunger is growing, though, and soon you're pushing forward with more intention and when your throat spasms you swallow reflexively, your eyes watering when this draws him in further. Klaue’s moans deepen at the ripple of the muscles around his cock but you’re unable to fight it any longer and you gag, even as his drawn out “Fuck” has your hips rocking.

Squeezing your eyes shut you just barely manage to stay where you are, tears dampening your lashes until you finally have to pull back, although you keep him in your mouth, breathing hard through your nose to catch your breath.

“It’s alright,” he rasps. ”Don’t think you’re going to be able to take all of me right now, darling. But you’ll take as much as you can, and when you can swallow every inch of my cock then you’ll get to feel me come down your throat.” 

You can’t help the muffled sound you make that’s equal parts arousal and disappointment.

“Don’t worry, I’m still going to make a pretty mess of your mouth," he teases, his heaving chest and half-lidded eyes betraying his own growing need.

Not that he isn’t doing a fair job of it already, of course, unable to properly swallow, your chin is quickly growing shiny with drool. The pressure of his other hand still cradling the back of your neck firm but soothing as he holds you in place, as the still restrained flex of his hips begins seeking the wet heat of your mouth again, and you sigh at the intoxicating weight of his cock dragging against your tongue.

As you relax your awareness drifts back down to the heat between your legs, the slick press of the seam of your pants against your sex barely relieving the ache there as you squeeze your thighs together. 

After a few more slow thrusts he presses forward into the back of your throat again, and as he holds himself there you take a shaky breath and swallow once, and then again, taking more of him than you have so far. 

“There you go, God-”

You try to hollow your cheeks to pull him in further but you gag again when he bucks suddenly, his words cut off with a growled curse.

“It’s alright,” Klaue soothes, pulling back to give you a moment to recover, though it was more startling than painful. “You’re doing so fucking well.” 

Looking up at him you see that his eyes are screwed shut, head bowed and breathing hard, concentration etched clearly across his face. When he finally opens his them he can only groan at the sight of your tear-damp reverence, his attention is first drawn first to where he's disappearing into your mouth as he starts to move again, but it’s not long before they catch instead on the needy cant of your hips.

“You do love this, don’t you? Have you soaked through your panties already?”

You can only let out a whimpered moan as you attempt to nod.

He hasn’t let you take his cock out of your mouth yet and you can feel the drool that continues to spill from your lips beginning to collect and drip off of your chin, down onto your chest where it slicks the skin between your breasts.

There’s a flicker in the back of your mind, a needling thought that you should feel…ashamed. By the mess, and your neediness, by how much you fucking adore being on your knees for this man. 

But that flicker is quickly snuffed out as Klaue continues to use your mouth, and as you take in the look of awe in his eyes, when you feel his thumb softly stroking over the curve of your cheekbone, you realize that you don’t feel below him. 

That although you're on your knees, it feels like you’re the one being worshiped.

You want to focus on him and you try, really you do, but the heated ache in your cunt is becoming unbearable and you can't  help shifting and squeezing your thighs together, made breathless by your need as much as by the fullness of him in your mouth.

He's has been watching - and clearly enjoying - this increasingly desperate movement of your hips, but finally he seems to take pity on you.

“Do you want to touch yourself, darling? Want to come while you drool all over my cock?” 

Even through his tease you can feel how his own words affect him in the quickening buck of his hips.

“Go on then, feel how wet your pussy is just from this.”

The words are barely past his lips and you’re already moving, but just as you manage to work your hand beneath the waistband of your pants he speaks again.

“Slow.” 

The word is quiet but firm, Klaue's tone softer than before yet shot through with an irresistible command and you pause, glancing back up.

His shoulders and neck are impossibly broad from this vantage, eyes bright but tinged with a smoky darkness that does away with your resistance, and you know with a thrilling certainty that as desperate as you are for relief, in this moment you’d do whatever he asked.

Keeping your eyes locked on his you begin to move again, dipping your hand down - slowly.

“That’s it. Slip your hand into your panties now. Just- just one finger, darling.” His voice is uneven and clipped like he's having to concentrate on forming the words. “Slide it along that pretty slit of yours. Barely need to press to feel it, don’t you? How wet you are.”

You can only whimper in response, the building ache between your thighs only made worse by how close you are to relief, by how you could increase the pressure just slightly and you’d be able to part yourself and find your desperate bundle of nerves.

“You have no idea how delicious that first taste of you is. So fucking sweet.” 

There’s an edge to his words, as though he were jealous of your fingers, that they get to slide and tease between your legs and not his tongue.

There’s barely any friction beneath your index finger, but the soft glide combined with his grunted breaths above you has you clenching and it's near agony to keep your movements slow and controlled, fighting against every instinct in your body not to give in as your sex quivers, pleading for more.

So instead you pull your focus back to his cock and let your mouth move the way you wish your fingers could, quickly and hungrily sliding your lips along his shaft until with a sudden movement you take him into the back of your throat again and keep him there, your hand stroking the part of him you can't take.

“Christ,” he grits through his teeth, your scalp stinging from the quick jerk of his hand in your hair. “Not yet.” 

You can't tell if this is directed at you or himself as he swallows and releases a shuddered breath, his voice strained when he speaks again.

“Slide two fingers over your clit for me, now.” 

Relief ripples up your spine as you eagerly press through your drenched folds, fingers dragging against your swollen bud, unable to let out more than a choked sound as you push forward to keep his cock where it is in your throat, hot tears spilling over.

“Again.” 

Your touch grows rougher, matching his words, feeling the inevitable swell of pleasure growing as you float there, caught in the riptide of his voice.

”Want to go faster, don’t you?” Klaue rasps. “Want to reach down to feel how soaked your needy hole is?” 

You do, trembling fingers unable to help chasing the path of his words as if they were his tongue instead, sliding along your slick cleft and down to gather more of your arousal. 

Pleasure strings tighter when your fingers slide back up and over your clit, cursing  him internally as you gasp short breaths through your nose. You try to relax your throat even as every other muscle in your body draws tight, unsure how much longer you can keep yourself from falling over the edge.

You can’t really tell him, only your eyes can plead, I’m close, I’m so close it feels so good please let me come. 

“So used to begging with that pretty mouth.” He taunts with a breathless growl, reading your desperation, his lips curled in a grin at your half-delirious expression.

“It's alright, I know how good it's making you feel to use your mouth like this instead. Just like I know you’re going to make yourself come now.”

You're so close to lost that it takes a second for you to process his command, but when you do something in you snaps.

Your fingers immediately find a tight rhythm as you chase the swollen edge of pleasure, his fist gripping your hair tight to hold you firmly in place as your movements begin to grow frantic, unable to control any part of you as the blinding heat of your climax finally shocks through you.

The muscles of your throat spasm as your cunt flutters around nothing, desperate sounds caught in your chest as your hips buck and writhe against your fingers. Your other hand is entirely lost to any sense of rhythm and it drops to grasp at the fabric covering his thigh in an attempt to find purchase, and then suddenly his hand not in your hair is there, strong fingers twining tightly with yours, holding on to you as you fall apart.

“That’s it,” Klaue pants, his voice thick with lust and awe. “Choke on my cock while you come.”

You want to curse and cry and plead as ecstasy works its way through you in eddies and purls, and it almost feels like you might be drowning but you’re powerless to want anything else but to drown in him, trembling with relief as your fingers roughly work every pulse of pleasure from your clit.

As the waves begin to soften your other senses gradually filter back in: the ache in your throat and your jaw, the sting in your knees where they press into the floor, and when your body slackens as you start to come down he allows you pull back enough to properly catch your breath. 

Slowly you’re able to focus again, eyes damp and red rimmed as you look up at him, but you only have a brief moment to appreciate his pleased expression before his eyes go storm dark.

“Going to come in your mouth, now.”

Fingers tighten in your hair once more and then he’s moving. His thrusts are rough now with surrendered control as his hips chase a harsh rhythm, a low groan rolling through his chest that's woven together with your name as he finally gives in and takes what you'd promised. 

You attempt to tighten your lips around him as his rasping curses continue above you, but it’s no use, all you can do is kneel and relent to the slide of his cock filling your mouth again and again.

You want to beg him, words that fall so easily from your lips now when you sense that he’s about to let go for you, but you can only whine for it, your plaintive noises slipping messily around his cock until the pattern of his thrusts falters. And then, finally, there's only bliss when you hear his choked gasp as he stiffens, and you feel the first warm spurts of his spend coating your tongue.

With a low, open-mouthed moan he continues to fuck into the wet suck of your mouth, spilling himself across your lips and chin as well as your tongue until pearly ropes of cum are mixing with your drool, the mess of it dripping in slick stands off of your chin.

Then suddenly Klaue pulls out completely for the first time since this started and at first you can only gasp and cough, but when his hand wraps around himself your mouth instinctively drops open. Resting the head of his cock against the offering of your tongue he slowly strokes though the last pulses of his orgasm, making sure to give you every last drop, dragging through the slick mess with slow, sated thrusts until his fist gradually stills.

Eventually he pulls back though not away, panting and heavy lidded as he looks down at you where you kneel, a shining strand strung between his tip and your swollen lips that glisten with the pearly sheen he’s painted them with.

“Now you can swallow, darling.” 

You’re not sure if you should laugh or sob, but fighting both you make sure to keep your eyes on his as you curl your tongue back into your mouth and swallow, before dragging your fingers across your chin to gather the mess he left there, too.

A lazy smile curves his lips as he watches your mouth sliding around your fingers, and once you've cleaned as much as you can your hand drops, both of them resting on the tops of your thighs. 

Gently, the backs of Klaue’s fingers brush at the streaks of tears that are beginning to dry on your cheeks, then one slowly hooks under your chin to tip your head up, not letting you hide, leaving you startled by the affection that vines its way through your ribcage, burrowing into the want that even now burns hot. 

The want that folds into a desperation to please him, to give and take everything until the only thing left is your desire. 

You wish that you could explain it to him, that you could say something coherent, but any words you try to form seem to dissipate before they can reach your mouth, and you’re unsure that you could even articulate your thoughts as you sit in the filmy haze of your afterglow. 

So when you do open your mouth you're nearly as caught off guard by the words that come out as he is, your voice an almost unfamiliar, grateful rasp.

“Thank you.” 

Klaue’s satisfied grin falls away, his lips parting with a groaned sigh and then he’s reaching down, a hand curling around your bicep to pull you up to standing. You waver against the stiffness in your legs but he supports you, his palm again finding its place against your cheek.

He pauses, really taking in the state of you: your dazed expression and cock-swollen lips, standing there bruised and mussed and shirtless and pleased, his large hand brushing across your chin to catch more of the sheen there, words seeming to hover on the tip of his tongue.

The line between his brows deepens with a purse of his lips, a barely perceptible shake of his head. 

“You’re going to be the death of me, klein Mot.”

Then he's pulling you against him, his lips suddenly on yours and he's kissing you deeply, licking hungrily into your mouth and you swiftly grow breathless as he chases the taste of himself on your tongue. But just as you’re sinking into it, he pulls away. 

“Come here.” 

He turns with you, quickly crowding you back against his desk, hands reach down to wrap around your thighs and you quickly brace against the surface as he lifts you until you’re perched on the edge of it.

Your legs fall open easily as he moves forward, his focus coming to rest on you again as his hands slide up to circle your waist.

“You did so fucking well.” A smile tugs at his lips again as thumbs trail soft patterns against your bare skin. “Are you alright?” 

Warmth blooms at his concern, an unexpected contrast with what had just transpired.

“Yes.” You’re still finding your voice, still feeling like you're catching your breath, but you’re good. More than.

“You're sure?”

Leaning forward you slide your arms around his broad waist, hitching your legs up as well, drawing him into you.

“Yes, I promise.” You assure, brushing the ghost of a smile against his lips. “And…I promise that I won’t lie to you if anything is too much.”

“Good.” Klaue pulls back to look at you, a pleased edge of gold glinting in the blue before a more serious expression settles into the creases around eyes. “Because I'm going to keep pushing you.” 

You inhale sharply, a fresh throb of heat blooming in your still slick core as your legs tighten around his hips.

“I want you to, Ulysses,” you hum, slowly arching and rolling your center against him, feeling him still half hard where he'd tucked himself back into his pants. 

“I know, my darling.” His words are knowing and smooth with the edges singed dark, hands roving slowly over the soft flesh of your waist as he continues matter-of-factly. “But right now, you’re going to have some water, and then I’m going to make you come again.”

“Yeah?” You say hopefully as you continue to move against him, chasing the heat he so easily stokes in you with just a few words.

A slow nod and a rumbled confirmation. 

“I’m going to take care of you, now, Mot. I don’t need you to make any decisions today. Except for one.”

“Oh?” 

“Not how many times you’re going to come, that's up to me. But you’re going to tell me how.”

“God, Ulysses.” You’re burning with arousal now, every inch of your skin prickling hot. “That's all?”

“Will it be my fingers?” 

His hands brush further up your waist, thumbs teasing beneath the band of your bra to just brush against the sensitive curve of your breasts before trailing back down.

“Or my mouth?”

Leaning in his lips press against your neck, a silvered shimmer of nerves swirling out from the point where his tongue flicks out to taste your skin, your body swiftly surrendering to the heat of his promise.

“Or perhaps you’d like to straddle my thigh until you’ve made a lovely mess for me.”

A needy sound rends itself from your chest as his thumbs press into the sensitive creases where your hips meet your thighs, but just as you open your mouth to reply, a loud knock sounds on the door.

“Not right now.” Klaue calls out to whoever is in the hall without pulling away from you.

“Yes, now.”

“I’m not ask-”

“It’s a call you’ve been waiting for. There's a problem.”

Jaw clenching, he exhales a sharp breath.

“Just a minute,” he replies.

“You really need to-”

“Just a minute.” Klaue snaps, his head jerking towards the door and you jump, your legs tightening around him.

“Alright, alright.” 

The man’s voice trails off and it sounds like he’s moved down the hallway, at least for now. 

When he looks back at you you’re biting your lip, the look in his eye telling you he must have noticed your reaction to his tone.

“Think about what I asked.” 

You're about to reply that you will, but something occurs to you about the suggestions he’d given you.

“Wait, is.. is your cock not an option?” You give him a coy look through your lashes, intending to tease but still a little nervous that maybe it won't be.

“Don’t worry, I’m going to fuck you, darling. If you’re good.”

A thumb grazes the corner of your mouth, distracting you momentarily from what that means as you unconsciously flick your tongue out to meet it, earning you a knowing grin when you quickly pull away with a sheepish laugh.

“So?” He says, waiting for your confirmation of his request.

“I will. I’ll…think about it.” You're nearly panting now as the rock of your hips grows needier, shocked at how quickly you can feel another orgasm building already, if you just had a few more minutes you could-

“That’s all you’ll be doing, though. Yeah?” 

Strong hands tighten around your hips, pinning their faltering movement against him and you pull back with a frown.

“Are you saying…you want me to think about how I want to come, but I can’t- ”

“Smart girl, you did hear what I said.” His gaze sweeps over your face, and you barely manage not to scoff.

“Yes, I heard you. But I mean, I did already make myself come. I made that decision.”

Klaue tilts his head, mock curiosity knitting his brows.

“Did you?”

You open your mouth to argue but then close it again, pursing your lips together in a pout. He has a point, though: It may have been your fingers, but it was his words guiding you, and you only made yourself come when he told you that you would.

“I decide,” he repeats, and you bite back a whimper when he slowly grinds you against him again. “And I've decided you're going to wait.”

There’s another, more insistent knock at the door.

“Coming.” Suddenly letting go he steps back from you, not hiding his pleasure at your pained expression as he finds and hands you your shirt which you reluctantly put back on.

“I’ll walk you back to the main corridor.” He pauses with his hand on the doorknob and raises a brow, waiting for you to follow.

“Fine. I’ll think about it.” You finally say, pushing yourself off of the desk, not bothering to hide the frustration in your voice.

“I know you will, darling.” His certainty overlaps with a challenge as he opens the door. 

Be good, and you can come on my cock. 

You shudder when his hand quickly presses against your lower back as you move past him, even the brief pressure burns hot through the fabric of your shirt, and then the door clicks shut behind you.

So, you have to wait. Again. And though you’re getting good at it now, and even knowing that it won’t be long, you’re not sure how you’re going to make it, your nerves already on fire as you part and watch him walk away.

AN: As always thank you so much for reading! 🥰 The next chapter will not be nearly as long a wait since about 75% of it was already written before I decided to split this on up! Will it be soon soon? No, but it won't be quite as long as this break as this was! Though to be fair I did write two other fics (and a drabble), flew to London, and dealt with a personal loss, and then the recovery from of all the that plus y'know, life in general. But we're finally here, and I'm glad that I made it and can finally share this with you all!

Full disclosure I am not someone who works with propane, and while much of the information is based what I've been able to find online, the accident itself is based on the events of a real explosion at a propane plant that happened in Canada several years ago. So things are likely not necessarily going to be 100% correct, but there are real variables here that would explain something like this happening.

I also want to mention that there's a line in that that was actually the first (filthy) line of not just this chapter, but also of this entire part two. I was only around halfway through part one and was just realizing there would even be a part two (the line did end up changing a bit as the story evolved, but it's still in here. 😏). Also I wrote it, closed the doc, then opened Instagram and immediately saw that Andy was coming to to Toronto. And instantly panicked. So there's that. 😂

[lastbuckshot]

NSFW: “Abraham” Pritchard/Reader, Wave 2: Part 1 of 3

Words: 9.6K Fandom: listen…… I don’t know…… Devil’s Gate but only 5% Rating: Explicit Title: Make You Wait

this is an extremely belated birthday gift for @vtmiglia this was supposed to be done a month ago but my life went extremely downhill, but still here’s part one of the worst fic ever

“Police reports tonight indicate a robbery—”

Click.

“I can’t help that I love y—”

Click.

“To the flour, add two tablespoons of—"

Click. Click.

“Christ will forgive, so long as you give in to him—”

The click of the television remote was constant in your hand. Head resting in the crook of your arm. Arm sinking into the couch. Couch hugging the contours of your body. Your body turned toward the TV, but with minimal attention. Nothing looked good. Nothing sounded good. Restless boredom was setting in quickly, the TV not being interesting, but nothing else as interesting or attainable as the TV. Sunday afternoons; the last day of comfort and relaxation before real work and errand-running begin. Today had been a churchless Sunday by choice; no heels or aching feet, no itchy stockings, and certainly no dresses. Only house clothes, a television, a blanket, and your couch. Nuzzling your head into your arm, you started into the television and listened, topically engaged, to the dronings of the televangelist on screen.

“So many people think that Christ won’t forgive. That once you’ve sinned, there’s no turning back. Maybe you didn’t go to church this Sunday.”

A pang of guilt rang throughout your chest.

“One mistake, and God will turn His back on you. But I’ve got somethin’ to say about that.”

Your thumb rubbed absently over the button for the next channel, but you listened more attentively than before.

“Our God is a forgiving God. Jesus Christ died for our sins. He died to cleanse us of our sins. So, confess those sins. Pray to Him. And so long as you give yourself to Him, and open your heart to accept His love and guidance… you will still make your way to Heaven. You will still see those pearly gates on judgement day.”

A tingle ran down your spine as you stretched and rubbed your tired eyes. The sun was on the cusp of setting outside, with darkening pinks and yellows breaking through patchy evening cloud cover. A blanket was draped over your body, soft and white, pulled up just beneath your chin. The cushions, the blanket, the couch pillows, all enveloped you in a lazy Sunday comfort. Minutes passed, gazing absently at the television, eyelids growing heavier and heavier as comfort turned to drowsiness, and drowsiness turned into yawns.

Turning your face away from the television, you stretched your back out against the couch cushions. You stared up at the ceiling, your fingers interwoven over your stomach, and closed your eyes. Your loose black skirt rode up toward your waist, leaving your thighs exposed beneath the warmth of your fleece blanket. Inhaling deeply, breathing out a seconds-long sigh, the sounds of the television began to fade away. In its place rose a sense of calm and quiet, your body on the precipice of succumbing to sleep. A resting of the eyes, a short nap, an hour or two to recuperate from a restless night before. Your body sank into the couch, growing more limp and relaxed. Slumping into the couch. Fading consciousness. Your head falling to the side. The sound of the television growing fainter and fainter… dissipating into unintelligible ambient noise—

A knock at the door sent your body into a sudden jerk, lurching forward with an intense pounding in your chest. Your hand slid over your heart automatically to quell the beating beneath your fingers, and your head fell back against the arm of the chair. Rubbing your eyes, you stood, pulled down your skirt, and adjusted your white tank top, which had become wrinkled and bunched up around your chest.

“Who is it?”

“An old friend, in more ways than one,” a familiar, deepened voice called back. “You know, your boss?”

Opening the door, you were met with the sight of Abraham, his wide frame bathed in blue, dusky light. A pinstriped, white, long-sleeved shirt wrapped around his upper body, brown trousers covered the length of his legs, and a black leather belt secured them at his waist. His face lit up with a gentle smile at the sight of you. His eyes lingered around the hem of your skirt for a fleeting second or two before you broke the silence.

“Mr. Pritchard,” you said, taken aback. “I wasn’t expecting you today.”

“Why,” Abe questioned, peering behind you to scan the interior of your home, “Am I interrupting anything?”

“Not at all, sir. What brings you here?”

“Well,” he started, “It ain’t a work thing or anything like that. I just noticed you weren’t at church today. I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

The mention of church made the words of the televangelist, still preaching and commanding on your television, more salient.

One mistake, and God will turn his back on you.

“I’m alright, Mr. Pritchard,” you said. “I appreciate your concern. I do. I’m not sick or anything. I guess my heart just wasn’t in it today.”

Abe smiled, putting his hands in his pockets and nodding.

“I see. There ain’t nothin’ wrong with that, sweetheart. You seem t’ be awful comfortable today anyways. I’m not used t’ seein’ you in those type’a clothes. Or any clothes at all.”

A warmth rose in your cheeks, and a chuckle escaped from your coy, pursed lips.

“I guess that’s true Mr. Pritchard. Is there anything else I can help you with, then?”

Abe licked his lips, leaving them wet and glistening as he stopped to collect his next words.

“Forgive me for bein’ bold, darlin’,” he said, “But I was wonderin’ if you might allow me to stay here. With you. For a day or two maybe.”

You paused, narrowing your eyes, and processing his request.

“May I ask why, sir?”

“Conjugal visit?”

The two of you shared a laugh, Abe’s teeth baring from his mouth, bright and white. He slicked his graying black hair behind his ear before he continued to explain.

“D’you remember that one time, a while back, when you babysat for me? The first time you did it since Diana had been gone. You said somethin’ t’ me. Somethin’ like, you thought maybe I might be lonely.”

“I remember.”

“I think maybe you might’a been right. I think maybe havin’ somebody t’ talk to would be nice.”

You thought his request over for a few moments more. He was good company, and you knew his company would feel better than watching television alone; that being said, there was an elephant in the room that it would be irresponsible not to address.

“What about the kids? And Diana?”

“They’re outta town for the week. You ain’t gotta worry about them. She and I, and the kids, were all at service this mornin’. I traded ‘em off t’ her then.”

You nodded, slowly. Before you could respond, however, Abraham continued.

“I’m sorry. I know this is a lot to ask all of a sudden like this, beautiful. I just thought I’d ask. I don’t want you t’ feel pressured or nothin’ like that. But if it means anything t’ you, it’d make a great little birthday present for me.”

Your head perked up as you stood in the doorway, your hand resting against your door frame. A sinking feeling settled in your chest and your mouth hung slightly ajar as the realization dawned on you; years working for Abraham, years working alongside him, his wife, and children, and you’d forgotten, as the sun was setting, that his birthday was tomorrow.

“I am so sorry Mr. Pritchard,” you started, your voice laden with guilt. “It completely slipped my mind.”

Abe smiled and straightened his back, his deep brown eyes glowing faintly in the fading sunlight.

“That’s alright, sweetheart. No hard feelin’s. I hardly mention it anyways. It’s not my birthday yet, y’know. But it’s never too early t’ celebrate, right?”

You step aside, out of the doorway, and motion your hand toward the inside of your home.

“Then feel free to come inside, Mr. Pritchard.”

“Thank you, ladybird. I packed a couple bags, though. I’ll see about bringin’ those inside first.”

“Would you like any help?” you offered. “You’re my guest, after all.”

“You’re a sweet young lady,” he said. “Very sweet. But who would I be if I let a pretty young lady like yourself carry bags for me?”

Abe turned away toward his truck, taking his hands from his pockets and opening the passenger side door. You watched as he removed two modestly sized duffel bags from the seat, slamming the door shut again with a familiar thud of aging metal. His keys jingled in his pocket as he walked back up toward your front porch, but before he stepped fully inside of your home, he paused.

“Are those th’ flowers I gave t’ you not too long ago?”

You followed his gaze toward the side of your house, where there was a row of flowers in all different colors. Reds, whites, yellows, pinks, and blues, from a collection of roses, tulips, carnations, and lilies. Over time, Abraham had expressed his appreciation through offerings of flowers, in bouquets and pots alike. A few weeks prior to now, he’d given you his newest assortment of potted flowers as a gift. You’d since planted them and tended to them, trying your best to keep them alive and healthy from how Abe had taught you.

“They are,” you responded. “Am I doing okay growing them so far?”

Abe set his bags down inside of your home, just by the front door, then descended the porch steps again to examine your plants. He knelt down, with know qualms about clean church trousers becoming stained with grass and dirt. Unbuttoning his cuffs, rolling up his sleeves, and pushing his gold watch further up his wrist, he grazed his fingertips over the soil in which the flowers were planted with a couple passes of his hand, then rubbed the dirt between his fingers more intensively, watching the dirt fall back to the ground.

“This soil’s a little dry. When’d you water ‘em last?”

“Yesterday,” you responded. “I was waiting on watering them today. I thought it might rain.”

Abe looked up at the sky, his fingers still rubbing in the dirt. The sky had darkened ever so slightly, and the cloud cover above was still patchy; dense and dark in some areas, sparse and blue in others. Abe’s eyes remained fixated on the clouds for several moments before he looked back down toward the dirt, feeling it again in his hands.

“Good girl. You don’t wanna overwater ‘em. But y’ also don’t wanna let ‘em go too long without some water. It won’t hurt t’ water ‘em a little bit, just in case it don’t rain soon. You got a waterin’ can around here somewhere, darlin?”

From your porch, you grab and carry a small, silver watering can into the house. It takes only several seconds to fill it at the kitchen sink before you’re back outside again, passing it off to Abe. His brush against your own, taking the can from your hand to hold it in his own.

“Thank you very much, sweetheart. Come kneel down next t’ me. I wanna teach you a little somethin’.”

As you kneel down next to him, his fingers wrap gently around your wrist. He guides your hand toward your potted flowers, toward the soil in which they were planted. His hand was soft and warm, covered in soil, resting on top of your own hand to guide your fingers.

You rake your fingers through the dirt, each grain rough against your fingertips. The soil fell through your fingers with ease, your hands remaining dry to the touch each time you rubbed the dirt against the skin of your palm. Abe pushes your fingers deeper into the soil, deeper towards the roots, inches below the soil. He held your hand in place and spoke.

“There. Now feel. How’s that soil feel t’ you?”

You moved your fingers back and forth beneath the surface; the soil still felt as loose as it had on top, and was still grainy against your fingertips.

“It’s pretty dry,” you said.

“And how d’you know that?”

“The way it feels. It’s grainy. My fingers don’t feel wet. It’s a little bit like sand.”

Abe smiled, pulling your hand away from the soil and tipping your watering can over the flowers. The water fell in streams over each petal and stem, dripping from the green and falling into the dirt below. The soil darkened as streams of water fell on its surface and disappeared, soaking down toward the roots below.

You watched Abe’s hands work. He moved back and forth; tipping the watering can, soaking the soil, stopping to feel it between his fingers. Trailing his fingers through the dirt, he took care to uncover and pick stray weeds and blades of grass along the way. With his own crops, his technique was rough; driving his hoes and shovels into the dirt, prying up old crops with force, yanking out unwanted weeds. But now, watching him tend to your own modest garden, he plucked each weed gently, tugging them just hard enough to remove them at the root, but not hard enough to disturb or break the roots of the flowers nearby. His hands were skilled and delicate, deliberate and gentle; a far cry from how you were used to watching him work on his own farm. He continued until he was content, his fingers glistening wet with water, then reached out to grip your wrist again.

“There. Feel it now.”

This time, with Abe’s fingers gliding over your own, the soil felt moist; not too wet, and not too dry. It wasn’t as gritty as before, but still not as wet as it could’ve been. The granules of dirt clumped between your fingers, even inches below the surface, and your hand was left with a film of water.

“Y’feel that?” Abe asked. “How it’s not too wet, not too dry? Just wet enough, right?”

Abe smirked at his own choice of words, but patiently awaited your reply.

“I do.”

“Good. That’s how you want it if you think it might rain. Just wet enough to hold ‘em over, but not so wet that they drown.”

After allowing you to feel the soil for a few moments longer, Abe removed his hand. He directed his attention toward a tall, white lily. He broke it at the stem, prying off a couple leaves, then placed the flower behind your ear. You looked into his eyes, a deep brown that rivaled the soil just next to the two of you, as he adjusted the flower to his liking.

“There,” he said, satisfied. “A beautiful flower for a beautiful young lady.”

Abe stood to dust the dirt off of his trousers, and you likewise stood, brushing dirt off of your exposed knees. Back inside of the house, the two of you washed your hands clean of dirt. As you dried them, there was a healthy silence between the two of you; standing by the kitchen counter, the rustling of kitchen towels, the TV still audible from the living room, this time, with a new preacher in front of his congregation.

“….wanted to talk about how to communicate with God. How to have a relationship, a connection, with God. Many people believe that you can pray any old way and God will listen. But you don’t just pray with your mouth. You pray with your heart. Your heart has to be true—”

Your head was turned toward the television screen, but was quickly turned back toward Abraham’s face. Before you could manage a reaction, his lips pressed into yours, his hands pulling your waist inwards towards his own. With one hand still squeezing your waist, the other snaked up your back and to your neck, cradling your head in his palm, his tongue lapping deeper into your mouth. With your hands gripped onto his sides, dense and muscular beneath his shirt, your lips tingled with the vibration of a growling moan from his mouth, wettened as he pulled your neck in closer for one last kiss.

As he pulled away for the last time, licking his lips, he stroked your lips with his thumb. He admired their shape, their plumpness, and the feel of them against his skin. He stared and ogled, his eyes fixated on your cupid’s bow, his thumb dragging the taste of him off of your lips.

“I’m truly sorry about that, ladybird,” he said. “I just couldn’t help myself. Not with how goddamn beautiful you look in that skirt.”

Your nose rubbed against his, just barely touching. He moved your hand up from his waist, pulling it up toward his chest, and held it in place. Feeling his heart beating beneath his shirt, taking in the gentle wisp of air from his nose that caressed your cheek, you smiled.

“No apology needed, Mr. Pritchard.”

He planted a kiss in the middle of your forehead, one hand cradling your neck, the other still cupping your hand to his chest. He adjusted the flower behind your ear, which had fallen forward in the heat of the kiss, and once he’d decided it was placed just right, lily petals perfectly centered on the side of your head, he turned his attention to the rest of your home.

Leaving the kitchen and stepping into the foyer, his eyes passed freely, scanning one room and then the next. He looked over the dining room, the staircase, the hall, and your living room, where your fleece blanket still laid in disarray. All the while, he pulled his white sleeves back down toward his wrist and began to unbutton his shirt.

“I didn’t realize you were livin’ so nice out here,” he joked. “Plenty’a pretty lights, nice things everywhere, the TV that’s got more channels than mine, I’m sure. I hope you’re not as spoiled as you are pretty.”

“With all due respect, Mr. Pritchard, most of the houses around here are like mine. Probably better. Aren’t there a couple three stories around here?”

Abe smiled, the last button on his shirt unfastened to reveal a tight white t-shirt underneath, and began to patrol your dining room.

“I suppose you got me there. Maybe it’s just me, then. I ain’t really used to all this new stuff. Decorations, indoor plants, lights that ain’t just lightbulbs. Like this fancy one here, over the table. What’s this called again?”

He pointed with his finger, and you followed his gaze upward. From your ceiling hung a crystalline chandelier with six branching lights. They’d been turned off for the day without being used, but as Abe flipped a light switch on the wall, each branching light illuminated, as did a central light from which the other six were centered. A toothy grin spread across his face, flipping the light switch on and off, watching the light glint off of each crystal to light up the room.

“The chandelier?”

“Chandelier,” he said, still gazing up at the lights. “I like that. Sounds fancy, if y’ask me. See? That don’t even sound like anything I’d have in my house. All I got is my tools and family pictures.”

“That’s not a bad thing, you know.”

“I guess not. But still. This is very pretty, ladybird.”

With a final look, Abe turned off the light and left the dining room to explore more of the house. Before stepping into your living room, his eyes were caught by a small table pushed against the wall. On it sat a lamp, and next to it, a polaroid camera which Abe took into his hands.

“Would you mind terribly if I took a couple pictures of you?”

“Why,” you teased. “Are you gonna keep the pictures?”

“Maybe. I think it’d be a nice thing to hold on to. For quite a few reasons.”

With a smile and a coy laugh, you posed for Abe, who was more than happy to snap photo after photo. Some close ups of your face, some only from the waist up, and some others full body, head to toe, in your flimsy black skirt. Some pictures were wholesome smiles, some others more suggestive; photos from the side to showcase your figure, lifting the hem of your skirt to expose your thighs, giving the camera a peek at your stomach beneath your shirt. With each photograph Abe took, he shook them in the open air, then placed them in the table drawer, leaving them be to develop. Once he was satisfied, with ten pictures lined up in two rows in your drawer, he set your camera gently back onto the table, taking care not to let it fall or thud.

“I certainly hope you let me have at least a few of those for the road,” he said. “I’m excited t’ see how those come out already.”

Despite his obvious excitement, Abraham was quick to direct his attention toward the next thing. On your coffee table, in your living room, lay another camera, bigger than the Polaroid. Abe lifted it with care into his hands, flipping and examining it for several seconds.

“What’s this one here?” he asked. “Another camera?”

“It’s a camcorder. The ones you put a little tape in it so you can record videos.”

He fumbled with the camera in his hands, flipping it over, examining the lens, pressing buttons, and looking into the viewfinder. His brows were furrowed and focused, despite not knowing quite what he was doing

“Right. I think I’ve seen this around. You think you could show me how t’ work it?”

With a gentle nod, you rustled through a nearby cabinet, pulling out a blank cassette tape for the camera. You showed Abe how to open it, what direction to put the tape in, and how to turn on the camera to start recording. After showing him some basic controls for zooming and stopping, he pointed the now-recording camera at you, looking through the viewfinder, a sly grin on his face.

“You look absolutely beautiful on here, ladybird,” he said. “I know I say that a lot. But it’s true. Why don’t you turn around for me a second?”

You spun on your heels to turn with your back facing him, and no sooner than your feet had settled back on the ground, you felt Abe’s hand caressing your hips. His fingers slid around your waist, then crept downwards toward your ass, and further down still toward your thigh. He lifted your skirt, pulling it up and out of the way to reveal your lacy pink underwear, and Abe laughed in surprise.

“Jesus, darlin,” he teased. “You sure you didn’t know I was stoppin’ by today? ‘Cause this is enough t’ make an old man cry.”

He slid his fingers inside of the hem of your underwear and tugged them back toward him. As your body bumped up against your own, you could feel him getting hard through his trousers. Bringing his hand back toward the front of your body, he pulled you in closer, grinding his hips into your backside, his length pressing deeper into your skin. He leaned down to hover his lips over your ear, his breath warm, his voice held in a low, steady whisper.

“You feel that, don’t you? I’m bettin’ you want that pretty bad.”

His lips kissed your back, dragging upwards toward your shoulders, and settling into the crook of your neck. Your hand massaged his trousers, stroking back and forth, squeezing at the base, and stroking with your thumb just beneath his head. He kissed up to your jaw and lingered in place, but released his one-handed grip on your waist in restraint.

“We c’n get t’ all that later. Make me wait for it.”

The camcorder clicked as Abe stopped recording, gently setting it back on the table where he’d found it.

“I should put that down before I break it anyways.”

Leading you by the hand, Abe walked over to and sat comfortably on your couch. You sat beside him, nuzzled close against his chest, his arm wrapped behind you, his hand stroking up and down your back. He picked up and adjusted your blanket to drape it over the length of your lower body, then turned his attention to your remote control. Before flipping through your channels, he stopped to the current entertainment.

“You like these TV evangelical types?”

A different man was shown now than the one you’d originally been watching, but the message rang the same as any other. “Love God…. Get into heaven… Repent…”

“Not really,” you replied. “It just caught my eye. You can change it, if you want.”

Abe did so without a second thought, changing channel after channel to find something worth watching. It took him only several seconds for him to offer a small bit of commentary.

“I can tell already you got channels than we got on the farm. Way more. You must be bored to tears every time you babysit.”

“I think I manage okay.”

“Maybe,” he said. “It’s no wonder you didn’t go t’ service today. At your age, I probably woulda picked this over church, too.”

After a minute or two of flipping through sitcoms, game shows, evangelists, and cooking shows, Abe stopped. The TV showed war scenes; men dawned in uniform, shown in black and white, guns in tow. Marching, shooting, killing, running, writhing on the ground. A narrator spoke over the videos and images, discussing the plight of the allies against the Third Reich. Abe watched in deep thought, his eyes glued to the television even when you looked up into his eyes, almost as if you were trying to see what he was thinking.

“Are war documentaries your thing?”

“No…” he said absently. A couple seconds later, he corrected himself.

“Well, I ain’t got nothin’ against ‘em. This just caught my eye, is all. I used t’ wanna be in the army, actually.”

“What happened?” you jeered. “Soldier to preacher to farmer are three very big jumps, Mr, Pritchard.”

“You’re tellin’ me. It wasn’t really a dream. I mean, I guess it was, but not a natural born one. My dad was in the army, and I really looked up t’ him. Wanted to be just like him, do what he was doin’. But he left the army eventually and turned to the church, then he raised me up that way. As you can see, that’s the dream that stuck.”

“What about your mom?” you asked. “What’d she want for you?”

“Oh, she loved the church thing. A very God-fearing woman. Always readin’ her bibles and quotin’ her scriptures, teachin’ ‘em to me. I guess I take after her a lot too, now that I talk about it out loud. She’d take me t’ church while my dad was out on duty, and we’d pray for him together. Pray for him t’ come back safe. I entertained it was a kid, I guess you could say. I didn’t mind it, but I wasn’t devoted to God yet. Not until later on.”

“Did she want you in the army?”

“Oh, God, no. No, no, no. She hated it. Hated just the thought of it. She was worried enough, I think. She was dead set on getting me into the church.”

Abe reached into his shirt, pulling out a gold chain. From it hung a simple gold cross.

“Y’know this cross I’m always wearin’? My mom gave it t’ me. It has a little story to it, if you don’t mind hearin’ it.”

You sat up from laying on his chest and straightened your back, giving him full audience.

“I’d love t’ hear it, Mr, Pritchard.”

“Alright. But when you get bored, remember you asked for it.”

You chuckled, and Abraham began his little story.

“Alright. Where do I start? Alright. When I was a little boy, with my dad goin’ on leave all the time, I worried about him a lot. ‘Course I did. He was my father, and I never knew whether or not he’d be comin’ home. I prayed with my mom a lot, and she gave me this cross when I was little so I always had somethin’ with me t’ pray on. But it just didn’t feel like enough sometimes. So I told my mom how I was feelin’. And she took me outside one night. It was clear and beautiful, and I looked up, and I could see all the stars. And my momma told me that all those stars up in the sky were little angels, and those angels could hear me every time I prayed. She said if I prayed outside with them, they’d listen, and I could know they were listenin’. So every night that my dad was gone, I’d go outside, look up at the stars, and just start prayin’ for him t’ come home safe. Saw shootin’ stars a couple of those nights. And y’know what? My daddy always came home just fine. So those stars meant a lot t’ me.

When I was in my teens, I was gettin’ a little more rebellious. I wanted t’ get a tattoo of a star, in honor of all those nights with all those little angels. My dad had a couple tattoos, anyway. But my momma couldn’t stand tattoos, and I knew she’d just kill me if I went and got it behind her back. So I left it alone for a long time. A very long time. I even strayed from the church around my teen years, an’ my early 20s. Crisis of character, I s’pose. But then I met Diana, and we had Jackson. Diana was a very churchy girl, and I wanted t’ keep her. I got heavily back into the church, goin’ every Sunday, tryin’ t’ be a preacher. Then the tattoo thought came up again. I wanted the star, but I wanted a cross, too. But neither one felt quite right. So, I told Diana what I was thinkin’, and she said, “well, a tattoo might be fine, but why not get the cross engraved?” So…”

Abe flipped the cross over and motioned for you to look closer. On the back of the cross, right in the center of its intersection, was a five-point star, etched deeply into the gold.

“There it is,” he said. “My little angel. I hope I didn’t bore you too much.”

“Not at all, Mr. Pritchard. It was a very beautiful story.

Abe let you hold the cross for yourself, holding it and turning it over in your hands, rubbing your thumb over the star. You could see all the scuffs that gave away its age, but it was otherwise in better shape than you expected a decades old necklace to be. The sound of war, shooting and scuffling and cries of pain, still continued in the background, which prompted you to ask a question.

“Have either of the boys ever asked about being in the army?”

“No, never. They know about it, of course. Know about what soldiers do an’ all that. But they haven’t shown any interest. Noah barely wants to step foot in a church, let alone in a trench.”

“Of course not,” you said. “Noah’s always been a little free spirit.”

“I guess you’re right about that. I think he takes after his mom that way.”

Abe continued to peruse channels, stopping several seconds on each channel to take in what he saw. Your hand rose and fell with his chest, and your fingers tingled with each beat of his heart. His hand still steadily stroked your side and upper thigh, caressing and squeezing in the touchy way you’d come to expect from Abraham. Soon, however, you realized it was his left hand stroking your body; and quickly after that, noticed the absence of something familiar. Glancing back at his hand at his hand on your thigh confirmed your suspicion, and you’d decided to inquire about it.

“Mr. Pritchard?”

“Mm-hmm?”, was his placid response, eyes still fixated on the television.

“You took off your wedding ring?”

Abe tore his eyes from he TV to glance at you, then at his own hand. Breathing heavily out of his nose, he spoke.

“Yeah. I did.”

“When?”

“Right before I decided t’ come here. I wore it to church, an’ out in town while I was visitin’ people. But I took it off t’ see you.”

“Why—"

“What does it matter, ladybird?”

His snappy response was somewhat startling, and encouraged you to drop the issue.

“You’re right. I didn’t mean to pry. I’m sorry.”

Abe rubbed his forehead with his fingers, his eyes squeezed shut. His conflict was palpable and written all over his face, but you decided to say nothing more until he was ready to talk.

“No, ladybird, it’s alright,” he sighed. “I shouldn’t’ve snapped at you like that. You deserve t’ know. It’s just I didn’t think about it much myself. I’m not sure what t’ say.”

There was a silent pause that you decided again not to break, allowing Abraham time and space to collect his words.

“I still care about Diana. I do. She’s my wife. But there’s no point in pretendin’ like we’re not in trouble. We’re goin’ through a hard time. Not even sleepin’ in the same house anymore. And I hope you don’t think you’re the reason D and I split. We were havin’ problems way before we started this thing. She’d already moved out the first time we had sex.”

As he spoke, you knew what he said was true; but that didn’t erase the guilt that had haunted you on and off for weeks.

“I think D and I woulda needed a break regardless. I don’t want you t’ feel like you ruined a marriage, or anything like that. I’m makin’ my own choices. You’re just makin’ a tough time better for me. Much better.”

His hand grazed over your panties and squeezed, and with a sly bite of his lip, he continued.

“Anyway, that’s not the point. I guess I’m tryin’ t’ say I think wearin’ the ring when we’re doin’… this thing we’re doin’, makes me feel like I’m holdin’ on t’ somethin’ that just ain’t there right now. I think me an’ Diana can work it out one day. I hope we can. But if we can’t…”

He stopped to clear his throat, and hesitated on his next few words.

“I just think it’s better t’ be honest about what’s happenin’ right now. Honest t’ you, and honest t’ myself. I hope that makes sense.”

Something came over you then. It felt beyond your control. But looking into Abe’s eyes, their deep woody brown, and down toward his reddened nose and rosy lips, you found yourself wrapping your hand behind his neck and pulling him in. His lips felt warm, and his tongue was warmer, pushing into your mouth. He brought his hand up to caress the back of your neck, his thumb stroking your cheek, just above your jaw line. Each kiss was slow and lingering, your lips pressing still against his to pause and catch your breath. On the last kiss, your lips stayed just a hair’s breath from his. When you open your eyes, Abe eyes are already fixated on your eyes and lips. When he notices that your eyes are open, he meets your gaze and he smiles, brown eyes shining.

“See?” he whispered, his voice low and rumbling in his throat, “You just made my whole day.”

You smile and purse your lips. Abe leaned in closer, his nose rubbing softly against yours as he teased your lips for another kiss. Within seconds, the two of you were back to kissing, back to pulling each other in. You tugged on Abe’s unbuttoned white dress shirt, and his hand slid up your skirt to caress your thigh. Before long, you swung one leg over his lap to straddle him. Both of his hands began to explore eagerly up and down your body. Squeezing your breasts over your shirt, working his hand beneath your shirt to stroke your belly button. His hands wrapped around your back, tracing up the dip of your spine, then gliding back down toward your skirt. He tugged it up and out of the way without breaking the kiss, his tongue still steadily lapping inside of your mouth, and gripped either side of your ass. Your body jolted at his touch, firm and sudden, and you felt him buck his hips up to feel the warmth between your legs. Meanwhile, your hands stroked through and tugged on his graying hair, his goatee scratching against your lips and chin with each deep, passionate kiss. Your thumb stroked against two small moles on his cheek as you kissed. His fingers hesitated for a small while, but soon rubbed the outside of your wettened lace panties, with long strokes up and down, forward and back, from your asshole, down your taint, and further still between the lips of your pussy. You could feel Abe getting harder as you straddled his lap, and heard the attraction in his voice each time he moaned through a kiss. His middle finger grew slicker and wetter, and his appetite for you fiercer with his unrestrained moans. As he paused the kiss to trail kisses down the length of your neck, you took the opportunity to pull away. Noticing your resistance, Abe’s lips pulled away from your neck, and he looked up at you, his hands gripping tightly onto the backs of your thighs.

“Sorry. Did I come on too strong or somethin’?”

“No. Not at all. I just remember you said you wanted me to make you wait for it.”

Abe took pause for a couple seconds, without breaking eye contact. A wide, toothy grin soon replaced his blank expression.

“You’re right about that, darlin,” he joked. “So. Are you gonna make me wait for it?”

Without averting his eyes, he slid his hand between your legs. He stroked between your lips and rubbed his thumb over your clit, all with his hand still over your panties. He bit his lip, feeling your body heat, feeling his fingers coated in wetness, and watching your face as you squirmed at his touch. Sliding your hand between your own legs and pulling his hand away, you replied.

“I’m gonna make you wait for it.”

Abe smiled and raised his eyebrows, surprised bout charmed at your conviction.

“Is that so, ladybird?”

“Yes, sir.”

Bringing his hand to his mouth, Abe licked the taste of you off of his fingers. A smirk remained on his face as he sucked the length of his finger, then licked between each space until nothing was left. His free hand moved down towards his trousers, gripping his own length, stroking back and forth as he savored your wetness on his tongue.

“Alright, ladybird. I like a girl in charge. Just let me know when you’re ready t’ let me have it.”

~

           The rest of the afternoon transitioned into evening on the couch, cuddled into Abe, your head laying on his chest. He took control of the remote, still in relative awe at the variety, commenting every now and again to inquire about what’s, who’s, and why’s. With nightfall approaching just outside your windows, you sat up and stretched. Abe had taken off his dress shirt but left on his gold watch, and looked up at you as you rubbed your eyes.

“You tired, ladybird?”

“Not tired,” you said through a stretch, “Just getting hungry. Would you like something to eat?”

You followed Abe’s eyes as they glanced down toward your thighs, between your legs.

“Oh, I could eat,” he said, without looking up, “And the house special looks real fresh t’night.”

With a subtle roll of your eyes, you stood and walked toward the kitchen, but before you could make much headway, Abe’s hand wrapped around your wrist and pulled you back.

“Okay, don’t get slick, now.”

His voice was more stern than it had been all day.

“Tell you what. I c’n cook dinner for us t’night. You got all day tomorrow t’ treat me to whatever I want. The least I can do is treat you t’night.”

Without more talk, Abe stood and walked freely into the kitchen, familiarizing himself with your fridge, freezer, and panty. He settled on cooking smothered pork chops, mashed potatoes, and corn, which he went to work on with ease. Seasoning the pork, peeling potatoes, mashing them by hand, and shucking corn. More delighted was he to know that the potatoes had come from his own farm, which imbued him with a sense of pride as he finished cooking the meal.

As he stood at the stove, putting finishing touches on a pot of mashed potatoes, you walked up behind him and wrapped your arms around his waist. After an initial reflexive tensing of his muscles, he relaxed and smiles, stirring with one hand and cupping your wrist with the other.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he said, “Is this your way of tellin’ me I’m takin’ too long?”

You kissed his back through his shirt and rubbed the palms of your hands over his stomach. His muscles felt solid beneath his shirt, and you happily allowed your fingertips to travel as you responded.

“Not at all. Just checking in.”

Abe laughed, the vibrations of which you could feel in your hands with the jerky rising and falling of his stomach. He turned off each eye of the stove and turned around again adjusting the flower in your hair that had again become crooked.

“Why, aren’t you cute?” he said. “Well now that you’re all checked in, why don’t you head t’ the table, under that big pretty chandelier? I’ll bring out plates for both of us.”

He left a kiss on your forehead and turned you around, rubbing your shoulders with his hands and kissing the side of your neck. No sooner than you could take a step did you feel his hand smacking into your backside, beneath your skirt, sending a loud smack through the kitchen. When you turned back to look at him, he winked, and turned back to the stove.

“Go’on t’ the table an’ have a seat.”, he said. “Unless you plan on lettin’ me unwrap my present early.”

~

Dinner went on and was over with relatively quickly, and was followed by a round of dish cleaning. With a glass of bourbon in his system, Abe washed, you dried and put away. As the night went on, Abe grew more and more playful; from snarky innuendos at the table, to flinging water in your direction and putting suds on your nose. He smiled, laughed, and joked to his heart’s content, scrubbing and rinsing each pot, pan, and plate until the deed was done. Drying the last dish and stacking it in the cabinet, you glanced up at Abe, who was leaning against the kitchen counter, a smirk spread across his face.

“So,” he started, “What’s next on the menu tonight? Am I gettin’ any dessert?”

You wiped the counter dry of water and soap with the kitchen towel that was still in your hand.

“I need to shower first, you know.”

“Alright. Good. Me, too. I c’n join you.”

You turned to ascend the stairs, and after grabbing his bags from the floor, Abe followed behind. As you opened your bedroom door, Abe took in your room’s size and colors; the walls were clean and white, with flower vases posing as the majority of the decoration. It was a far cry from Abraham’s home, which was notoriously dark and cluttered, and where religious paraphernalia covered nearly every inch of wall space. Setting his bags down, Abe took no time taking off his shirt and beginning to unbuckle his belt. You followed suit, pulling your tank top up and over your head, and pulling your skirt down to the floor. The two of you exchanged words without speaking, keeping an eye on each other as each article of clothing continued to come off. A shy smile as you unclasped your bra, a chuckle as he pulled his trousers down to the floor. Pursed lips as you pulled your panties down toward your ankles, and licking his own lips as his boxers hit the ground. With both of you fully undressed, and Abe’s bare body just in front of you, it was clear that he was already close to hard. You tried not to stare, but looked down at his cock, then back up to his face, which eagerly awaited your commentary.

“I’m still making you wait.”

“That’s alright,” he said. “But I won’t apologize for all the things I wish I could do t’ you.”

You turned way and walked into your bathroom, which was attached to your bedroom by a door on the far wall. You stepped into the tub first, turning each handle and testing the water with your hand, as Abe got his look of the place.

“Bathroom attached t’ your bedroom, huh?” he said. “You really are the fancy type.”

Satisfied with the heat of the water, you stood, pulling Abe in by the wrist.

“Not fancy. I just like convenience.”

Turning on the shower head, there was a slight pause before your chest was beaten with hot streams of water, with water quickly dripping down the length of your stomach and legs. You turned to let the water reach every inch of your body, down the length of your arms and every curve of your ass and hips, and splashed some warm water on your face. Sufficiently soaked, you traded places with Abraham to stand behind him, letting him have his own turn.

As his body began to get drenched, wet and glistening, you took note of every drop of water that rolled down his back. Each muscle in his shoulder blade, and the dip of his spine, all collecting and dropping water down the length of his back, and into the drain. Between hundreds of little water droplets, you could see a collection of dark brown moles, each one a different size, all spotted around different places on his back. You rubbed your hands up and down his back, allowing your palms to feel his smooth, slick skin, as well as barely noticeable imperfections wherever a larger mole was. As Abe ran his fingers through his hair, soaking it in the shower head, your hands stroked down his sides. On his right side were two more small moles, one stacked on top of the other. You teased your fingers over both of them, and Abe paused for only a moment at the sensation of your touch, before he turned back to washing himself. Rubbing turned to kissing, your lips pressing into as many tiny moles and imperfections as you could find. You couldn’t see Abe’s face, but you heard him chuckle after every few kisses, thoroughly amused by the gesture.

With a washcloth in hand, you stood still behind Abe, and squirted a generous helping of body wash onto the cloth. Once it had a full, soft lather, you rubbed the cloth over Abe’s back. Starting at the shoulder blades, you worked down toward the middle of his back, and further down still toward his tail bone. Then, wrapping your arms around the front of him, you scrubbed his stomach, feeling the fine hairs that covered his just above his waist and around his belly button. The same process followed for his arms, then his thighs, wide and muscular, further still to his calves, and then back up to his ass, until you got to the last spot left.

With the rest of his body sufficiently lathered, you set the washcloth aside on your soap dish, and lather the remaining soap on your hands. Reaching around front, you stroke the length of his cock, and can immediately hear a low rumble of relief and satisfaction from Abe. Your pace was slow and gentle, and you stroked only a few times before moving to his balls, giving them the same slow, gentle massage. His hard-on was full and apparent, but you only teased. You only worked your hands for several moments more before you stopped.

“It’s my turn.”

Abe sighed, allowing he shower head to rinse the soap from his body, back and front, before he replied.

“Alright, ladybird. I can play that game, too.”

With a second wettened washcloth, Abe repeated after you. Generous helping of body wash, a rich lather, and his hands exploring the back and front of your body. His hands first rubbed over your breast, leaving a white, sudsy residue over both of them. He rubbed his fingertips over your nipples, and leaned down to kiss your neck, sending a chill up your spine and a tingling in your chest, which left your nipples hard and perky. He worked the cloth over your arms, then over your stomach, down the length of your legs. With the majority of your body lathered up, Abe set the washcloth aside, and allowed his hands to work.

His soapy hands caressed your upper thighs from the back and squeezed. He slid his fingers in the crack of your ass, his middle finger rubbing against your ass and taint. His strokes were slow, and he teased his fingertips at your entrance, pushing gently as if to slide a finger inside. But he resisted, continuing to rub between your cheeks and press his cheeks against you until his attention turned to the next spot.

His hands traveled toward the front of your body, stopping for only a moment at your breasts before dropping down between your legs. He rubbed the front of your pussy with your hand to build up a lather, then slipped his fingers deeper between your legs, working the suds around your lips. The water beating down on both of you, and the slipperiness of the suds hid the fact that you were wet, but somehow, you felt, Abe could still tell that you wanted him. His fingertip began to focus more and more on your clit, as he gauged your reaction. You moaned at his touch, and he moaned to the sound of you moaning, enjoying him, taking him in. Writhing and grinding against his wet body, feeling his stomach hairs graze against your back, he picked up his pace only slightly, massaging your clit, back and forth, in circles, and getting off on the feeling of you squirming beneath his arms.

Just before you could cum, Abe stopped. You gasped at the sudden stop of movement, and pulled his hand back down toward your pussy to get him to continue.

“Don’t stop, please, Mr. Pritchard,” you pleaded. “Please keep going.”

Regardless, Abe pulled his hand away still, and pushed down on your back for you to bend over.

“I know,” he said. “But remember what you said? Gotta make me wait for it.”

With the feeling of his head near the backs of your thighs, you were ready to feel him push into you. Instead, however, you felt his cock push between your thighs as you held your legs together, and with Abe’s hand holding and pulling your hips into place. He bucked his hips back and forth, His lock squeezed between your thighs. His head poked out from between your legs with each forward thrust, and his shaft stroking back and forth against your clit. He continued to thrust, warm water beating down on both of you continuously, where the sound of wet bodies slapping into one another mixed in with interspersed moans and pressurized streams of water. As his cock continued to stroke between your thighs, the sensation of his shaft and head rubbing against your clit grew more and more intense. Your lower body felt warm, your legs began to tingle, and your toes began to curl as you remained bent over, allowing Abe to control the speed and pace.

Your moans grew louder, and Abe’s thrusts grew faster, until you couldn’t contain yourself any longer; a strong pulse rippled throughout your body and around your clit, and the space between your legs grew warmer and wetter with your own cum beginning to drip between your legs. Abe’s own moans began to grow, his shaft stroking between the lips of your pussy, and now coated and glistening, sticky and wet. His fingertips squeezed close to the bone against your hips as his moans became strained, closer and closer to climax. You listened to him curse, swearing to god and saying your name like it was gospel, until, with one last, room-filling moan, he reached release. Pulses of cum shot out of his cock and onto the floor of the tub, and as they weakened, they shot just far enough to settle on and drip down your thighs. Once Abe’s orgasm was through, you looked down between your legs to see streams of cum being washed away as they traveled the length of your leg, down into the drain. Before the last drops could disappear, you wiped them from your thigh, and then from the tip of Abraham’s cock, which still poked out from between your legs. You wiped his cum onto your tongue, smooth and creamy, and once you were thoroughly rinsed, turned off the shower.

Back inside of your bedroom, and now with both of you having towels in hand, you dried off. As Abe dried off his hair, he restarted conversation.

“Thank you for lettin’ me do that, beautiful. I really needed it. We didn’t have sex, technically. You still get t’ make me wait.”

As you finished drying off, you responded.

“Of course. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“May I ask another favor, then?”

“Depends on the favor.”

After patting his towel against his head a couple more times, he wrapped and tied it around his waist. Parts of his body and face were both rosy and pink, particularly around the nose and lips. With only a towel on, his entire upper half was exposed, showing every small bump and mole along his arms and stomach, including the two on his side which you’d noticed in the shower. The towel knot settled just below his belly button, covering only some of his stomach hair, and a slight bulge was still visible between his legs. He glanced over at your dresser drawer, opened it the top drawer, and was met with the site of every clean pair of bra and panty you had.

“It’s not nice to go through someone’s stuff without permission.”

“You’re probably right,” he said, rummaging through the drawer. He lifted up a black, silk thong, held it up to his nose, and inhaled. “But I want my first little birthday present t’ be pickin’ out what you wear t’ bed. Smellin’ these don’t feel the same when it’s straight out of the drawer, by the way.”

“Because they don’t smell like me yet.”

“Then I know what I want tomorrow morning.”

Abe continued to rummage through your drawer, picking up and examining several pairs before settling on one for you to wear to bed. It was a lacy white thong, with a small bow in the front. He tossed it to you, and then, still in his white towel, turned his attention to your closet.

Flipping through hangers of clothes in your closet took considerably less time, with his eyes immediately drawn toward a silky white nightgown. The top and bottom were both lined with white lace, similar to those on the panties he’d given you to wear. He slid it off the hanger and tossed it to you, as well.

“There. Those’ll be just perfect.”

As you slipped on your panties, Abe dropped his towel and rummaged through one of the bags he’d brought along. From it, he pulled out a pair of dark blue boxers, which he pulled up and around his waist in little time. As you put on your nightgown, Abe cleaned up the room, putting the towels and old clothes of the day into the laundry basket in your bathroom. He dropped his own clothes into the hamper, but stopped with yours. You watched silently as he brought your tank top, skirt, bra, and panties, all in a bundle up to his nose, and inhaled. He licked his lips and took another deep inhale, then dropped the clothes into the basket and turned off the bathroom light.

“Don’t lookit me like that, ladybird,” he scoffed. “I like what I like. Now go’on an’ lay in bed. I’ll turn off the light.”

You heeded his command and crawled into your bed as he walked back towards your bedroom door. He switched off the light switch and followed behind you, his body pressed up against your back. He rests his head on your pillow and exhales, the tickle of which you can feel against your neck. There was a slight scent of bourbon on his breath from behind you, which mixed with the smell of fresh body wash, toothpaste, and cologne. The warm rise and fall of his stomach against his back was soothing and slow, and his legs fit perfectly behind yours. With one hand curled beneath you and the other cupping your breast, he plants a gentle kiss on the back of your shoulder. His lips lingered in place, his goatee prickly against your skin, his hair just barely damp and falling in strands around his face, and your back. His thumb stroked against your breast as he pulled you in closer towards him one last time, before both of you drifted off to sleep.

[the-eyes-of-andyserkis]

"Bringin' Home the Rain" Chapter 5 progress update + some WIPs, why not!

Klaue

"Bringin' Home the Rain" - Chapter 5 - Foundations

It's definitely still a ways off from being finished, but progress is being made! I'm happy to say that it's pretty much all on the page, so to speak, and is also already just over 6k as a rough draft with plenty of filling out to be done, so it will easily be the longest chapter. And it's pretty well, uhh, all smut. 🥴

At any rate, there's no set date for this yet but at least I can really get going with the "macro" edit!

"Salvation is a Deep Dark Well" - Part two of the BHTR series

We're definitely not done after chapter five! I realized pretty early on after starting to rework this that Klaue and Reader were going to keep at it (😉), but rather than add more chapters to what is now "part one", it felt like it made more sense to create a separate fic since there will likely be a small time jump, and it'll be spread over a longer period of time as they continue to get up to ✨️shenanigans✨️.

"Find Me in the Air" - Part three of the BHTR series

I'm planning on this essentially being a sort of extended epilogue (and I do basically know how this will end). While it's still rough at this point, it will definitely be at least three parts/chapters, like a series of one shots over an even longer period of time before I wrap things up.

"Hiding From the Sun" - sub!Klaue one-shot

Self explanatory. 😉 *raises eyebrows aggressively* Also, shout out to The Next Big Franchise discord for, uh, awakening something in me/us. 😈

Alfred Pennyworth

As yet untitled Alfred x F Reader series

Set in "The Batman" universe

This one keeps changing it's damn shape on me, and the title continues to elude me, but I think I've settled on a sort of "established relationship" series. Maybe. 😂 Either way, I'm not going to settle on a specific number of chapters at this point, as I feel like this may be more open-ended. Listen, I have thots and they need to go somewhere, so I'll figure it out eventually!

"Lotus" - Yoga Instructor AU Alfred x F Reader one-shot

Inspired by the lovely @tarabyte3's AU PT!Kino idea! ❤️ Also by going to my first class in ages and after internally debating for about two seconds which Andy blorbo would make a good yoga instructor before immediately realizing that Alfred would be perfect.

Alfred started exploring yoga to help with his injury and enjoyed and appreciated it so much that he started teaching. You're taken aback by the handsome, and older, new instructor who's very much outside of the usual demographic, and when he starts offering private sessions you nervously sign up.

This will be either one or two parts, we'll see how it shakes out!

"Fealty" (working title) - Arthurian Legend inspired AU Alfred x F OC series

I just got inspiration for this one yesterday! Plot twist: Alfred is the Lord/King and OC is a Knight (so is Bruce, of course), and in this universe both women and men are Knights. I'm lightly planning for this to be three to five chapters at this point, but again this is very new and liable to change. Mutual pining, forbidden love, slow burn, all that good stuff.

I'm making a list of some books and movies for research, and if anyone has recommendations for some universe-building inspiration, I'm open to suggestions!

Damn, five months ago I had no idea I'd actually be almost finished my first fic in years (and first multi-chapter fic, period), let alone have a list of WIPs/ideas! Thank you to everyone who has commented and encouraged me thus far, it's means more than you know. 🥰

Header by me | Divider by @saradika.

[pjpeteisawesome]

Goof Troop and the Nuances of Parent-Hating

It's common for kids, especially teenagers and older kids, to claim to hate their parents.  In fact, it's often seen as trendy to hate your parents, be it because they're embarrassing, clueless that you're getting older and have maturing interests, or simply too doting.  However, it's also important to consider that there's a significant fraction of kids who don't care for their parents because their parents are actively harming them. Goof Troop does a good job of showcasing the two types of parent-hating side-by-side and, in the process, showing the difference between the two of them.

When Max and Goofy are home alone, and especially when Max is a preteen, their relationship is more-or-less healthy.  The only times that their relationship is shown to be in jeopardy is when Max believes his reputation is on the line or when he's attempting to shirk responsibility.  "Meanwhile Back at the Ramp" is the first episode that shows this, when everyone says that Max looks just like his dad and he's ashamed because Goofy usually screws things up.  It's used a bit in the ancestors episodes where Max doesn't want to listen to his dad's stories, most of which are used to teach Max responsibility, with the exception of "Gunfight at the Okie-Doke Corral" which is about his reputation.  It's hinted at slightly in "Goof Under My Roof", but in that episode, he is willing to inform Goofy about the bullying he's enduring due to their situations.

It's most apparent near the end of the series, starting with "Educating Goofy", where Max is humiliated when Goofy appears at school with him, even though Goofy only did that to set a good example for Max, as Peg later explains.  "Have Yourself a Goofy Little Christmas" involves Max being one of the people whose Christmas was ruined by Goofy, as Pete rudely informs him, due to Max outgrowing the Christmas traditions.  A Goofy Movie and An Extremely Goofy Movie both feature Max worrying about his reputation and wanting to get away from Goofy for that reason extensively, including a tirade about how he's older now and doesn't want to be with Goofy anymore in both, with a harsher impact in the second one.  He's also exceptionally unhappy with Goofy dragging him away from Roxanne in the first movie and beating him at his best event in the X-Games in the second.

Despite these, he clearly cares for his dad when push comes to shove.  In "Meanwhile Back at the Ramp" he goes out of his way to help Goofy win an award, and eventually wins the best father and son in the class.  In the ancestors episodes, he eventually learns to appreciate Goofy's lessons.  In "Educating Goofy", with Peg's help, he realizes what Goofy was trying to do and wants to let Goofy win the spelling bee.  "Have Yourself a Goofy Little Christmas" has him chase after Goofy in the snow when he realizes Christmas is about family.  In both A Goofy Movie and An Extremely Goofy Movie, Max and his father reconcile from their fights in the third act, and there are moments along the way where Max shows care for Goofy, such as showing sympathy for him losing his job or bonding with him over "Hi Dad" soup.

Additionally, there's a good number of episodes where Max shows love for Goofy without any hint of dislike, such as "Everything's Coming Up Goofy" where they're very close before moving to Spoonerville, "Waste Makes Haste", where they work together smoothly, "Wrecks, Lies, and Videotape", where he goes out of his way to try to get Goofy a vacation, or most prominently, "Date with Destiny", where Max says that his father is "the best" and is very upset when Miss Pennypacker wants to take him away, even starting a lie that Goofy is getting married to throw her off the scent, though that was unsuccessful.  He's also completely benevolent in "Counterfeit Goof" despite understanding that Goofy is silly.

Then, on the other hand, we have PJ, who doesn't seem to have nor care about a reputation. He does occasionally express contempt for his father being embarrassing, but more likely than not he's expressing displeasure with something else.  Most of his comments explaining his poor relationship with his dad are fearful, self-deprecating, or plaintive cries for help.

In A Goofy Movie, he says his dad is going to kill him three times in his first three scenes, and he expresses similar sentiments in "Pistolgeist", "Wrecks, Lies, and Videotape", "Come Fly with Me", "Take Me Out of the Ball Game", and "Max-Imum Insecurity", the last of which was predicated on something Pete actually said.  He panics about being grounded for huge amounts of time in "Bringin' on the Rain" and "Axed by Addition".  In "All the Goof That's Fit to Print", he trembles and braces himself when asking Pete for money.  At other points throughout the series, he displays timidity and anxiety both around and about Pete.

Many of his focus episodes focus on the self-deprecating aspect as well.  PJ isn't smart enough to be his dad's assistant in "O, R-V, N-V U", he isn't skilled enough to be his dad's partner in "Tub Be or Not Tub Be", he isn't brave enough to be part of the family in "From Air to Eternity."  Pete's not a paragon of intelligence, skill, or bravery, but he still finds time to make PJ feel insecure about his own traits.  

Plaintive cries for help appear in episodes like "Good Neighbor Goof" and "And Baby Makes Three".  In the former, he says that the day he met Max is the only day of fun he ever had.  In the latter, he calls himself a "feudal serf" and counts down the days until he can leave home.  PJ is making it very clear that he is not happy at home, regardless of how anyone else would see him, regardless of the time in his life.

When does PJ show love to his father?  Most of the time, only when Pete is manipulating him into doing things for him that he should have no occasion to ever do, such as in "Tub Be or Not Tub Be" or "To Heir Is Human."  Otherwise, he's quite suspicious of his motives.  PJ is suspicious of Pete's motives when he's interested in his life, or is trying and failing to help him, or is off doing something else with other people.  There are several episodes where PJ had only a few lines, and used them to express disillusionment or disbelief.

It's also clear, when Max and PJ's problems are compared side by side, who is the one with the worse dad.  "Take Me Out of the Ballgame" features both fathers smothering their sons attempting to turn them into baseball stars, but Pete is more reckless in practice and, more importantly, at the beginning of the episode was forcing PJ to pull weeds for six hours without taking a break while he was lounging around, while the worst thing Goofy did at the beginning was give Max a birthday present he didn't want.  Later in the episode, after they fail to make the team, PJ is afraid of Pete's reaction and Max is worried about disappointing Goofy.

In "Midnight Movie Madness", Pete insisted that PJ go see a scary movie he didn't want to and then, when he made it through it relatively unscarred, told him that it was based on a true story and went out of his way to terrorize him in a costume.  Goofy, on the other hand, warned Max not to see the scary movie because he doesn't react well to them, but relented when Max said it was okay and went out of his way to prove the Mutilator wasn't real.

In A Goofy Movie, Pete couldn't even say the word "too" when countering Goofy's comment that Max loved him, saying "My son respects me", period.  An Extremely Goofy Movie opens with Max and PJ playing a game of Misery Poker, where Max complains about his dad's tendency to be embarrassing and smothering and PJ complains about his dad's willingness to cast him completely aside and openly show his utter glee at doing so.

Indeed, this shines a light on a problem with the unchecked trend of kids hating their parents to be cool in the media.  It makes it harder for kids who have genuinely abusive parents to understand that the way they feel about their parents isn't normal or healthy.  Indeed, Max doesn't always seem to fully understand the extent of what PJ is going through. He makes a joke about how he's "trained" in "Come Fly with Me" without getting the huge problem that is.

In A Goofy Movie, he's willing to say PJ is lucky because of the RV, to which PJ reacted well, but the elephant in the room is that he's still essentially being treated like a servant by his dad.  In "Slightly Dinghy", he point-blank asks PJ what could be more fun than fishing with his dad, despite the fact that his extremely unpleasant answer is predictable.

Yet, when Max learns that PJ isn't allowed to play with anything in his room in "Everything's Coming Up Goofy", he's horrified.  In "Good Neighbor Goof", he's reduced to tears when Pete screams at PJ and tells him he's not allowed to see Max anymore, even coming up with two elaborate plans to prevent that from becoming permanent.  In "Close Encounters of the Weird Mime", he shakes his head, scowls, and facepalms at Pete's phony-polite insults.  In "From Air to Eternity", he's more than willing to help PJ get back at Pete for being a hypocrite and rejecting him as a punishment for something he didn't even do.  Max is clearly not under the impression that what Pete is doing to PJ is acceptable; most of the time he doesn't even seem to realize how frequently it's happening, mainly because his own experience with parents is so much tamer and healthier.

That, in essence is the distinction between the kid who hates their parents to be cool and the kid who hates their parents for hurting them.  While the former may express contempt or distaste for their parents being embarrassing or smothering, ultimately, they would be horrified if their parent was out of their life. On the other hand, the latter may display fear and pain, and will likely distrust the parent even outside of their social settings.  This distinction is really important, and it's worth admiring that this show did such a thorough job of showing it.

[citrus-moonlight]

Salvation is a Deep Dark Well

Chapter 1: Let's Cover Up What We Really Want

[ Masterlist ]

Fandom: MCU - Age of Ultron, Black Panther Pairing: Ulysses Klaue x F!Reader Word count: 11.4K Chapters: 1/6 Rating: Explicit

Summary: Memories and fresh desires are intertwined now and you think you might go mad from the waiting, but all you can do is try to keep yourself busy as you count down to Klaue’s return.

Warnings: Explicit!, Mild Age Difference, Reader is Late 30s, Use of Pet Names, Mention of Insecurity, Smut, Masturbation, Wall Sex, Orgasm Denial, Teasing, Dirty Talk, Oral Sex (F Receiving), Face Sitting, Vaginal Fingering, Couch Sex, Rough Sex, Unprotected PIV, Creampie, Mild Size Kink, Soft Dom, Love Bites, Thigh Riding, Frottage, Hair Pulling, Praise Kink, Multiple Orgasms, Porn With Accidental Plot, More Accidental Feelings Oh No

AN: Hello everyone, we're back! Thank you for your patience, this was definitely a much longer time coming than I anticipated but I'm relieved to finally be here! Life happens, and everyone struggles for one reason or another, and I'm no different. It definitely became more than I anticipated but I'm glad I worked through it and that I can finally share this with you! As always, really and truly thank you so much for reading, and I hope that you enjoy the return of the menace that is Klaue. 😉

AO3 Link

Title is from "Dirty Love" by Mt. Joy

I know you think I think too much But I don't know if it's enough Dirty love, all I want are your eyes on mine And underneath of it all I dream of a thousand shooters Hallelujahs, are unable to save us

Twelve days. 

It had been so much worse this time, the waiting. 

Now that you know the weight of him pressing into you, the soft brush of his fingers as they tip your chin up, making you just as wet as the tight grip of his fist in your hair, the way that every damn word out of his mouth feels fine tuned to drive you mad and be grateful for it, leaving you writhing and opening for him in a way that you hadn’t anticipated.

You’ve spoken to Klaue once since that night, your stomach doing flips every time you read and re-read your text conversation with him. Still processing his admission that he’d been thinking about you, still not entirely prepared to believe that there might be something in you that he wants, the way that you’re starting to realize that you want him. 

It’s easier to assume that him seeking you out is nothing more than surface level, so you keep those thoughts quieter and separate from the rest, not wanting to read more into his words than are really there. 

After Klaue left you had slept hard.

The next morning your mind is soft and clear when your eyes blink open, a notable change from the usual fog that you have to work to shake off. You don’t even remember falling asleep, and chuckle when you realize that you’re in the exact same position as when you had laid down, face stuffed gracelessly into your pillow with the covers half pulled over you.

Warm imprints of a dream trail after you, not dissimilar to the ones you’ve been having recently, although these are particularly vivid; ghosts of Klaue’s hands gripping your hips, his tongue sliding wet and hungry between your thighs.

But then you move, and when you stretch your arms above your head the contented sound you make deepens to a full moan at the sudden soreness that tugs though nearly every muscle in your body. Your thighs squeeze together against the ache that you feel between them, too, and the confused “what on Earth did I do yesterday??" shifts on a wave of realization that knocks you breathless.

Oh Jesus, it wasn’t a dream.

A wave of memories pulls you all the way awake and your body follows as the entirety of last night comes flooding back: You on your knees in your workroom, his body trapping you against your door, him pushing you to admit what you needed until he was fucking you and filling you and praising you, and your breath catches as the still raw ache twines itself together with fresh desire.

“Shit!” You gasp when your eyes fall on the nightstand clock, suddenly realizing that you’re going to be late for your shift, and you’ve never been late. 

Trying to move as quickly as you can, you throw some clothes on the bed and splash water on your face, hastily pulling your hair back while fighting stiff muscles and distracting thoughts. As you start to pull your pants on your fingers absent-mindedly brush over a dark smudge on your leg, but when it doesn’t move you look closer. 

Your breath hangs for several beats when you see the pattern of rose petal bruises trailing their way up the inside of your thighs, mementos that Klaue’s mouth had left on your skin and suddenly “late” and “early” are no longer concepts you’re particularly concerned with. 

Clothes and work forgotten you fall back on the bed, a hand slipping beneath the edge of your underwear to press against your clit, and it doesn’t take long before your breath is coming in short gasps as you tremble against your tightly circling fingers. All it takes is the memory of his eyes looking up at you as his mouth hovered over your sex, equal parts impatient and imploring while he waited for you to say his name, and then you’re over the edge, your muscles clenching around the lingering ache of him deep in your cunt.

Twelve days since your own touch had been nowhere near enough.

A couple of days later it suddenly occurs to you mid-shift that the ache in your muscles has faded, and you immediately miss the tactile reminder of him even when you’re just walking around.

You hadn't really realized how long it had been since you'd been touched.

Normally it’s not something that tends to take up a lot of space in your mind, but once in a while you do find yourself thinking about the press of someone else’s skin against yours, a cool longing that curls itself up somewhere behind your sternum. But you’ve still never quite understood when people said they were “touch starved”, and more often than not being touched required an effort on your part, a consciousness that was tiring and made you too aware of the edges of your body. 

You had never been overwhelmed by friction, by singing nerves and sliding teeth, had never felt yourself succumb to it - or been made to. 

You’d already had a feeling that you might be in trouble when it came to Klaue, but now you’re almost certain. Because now you need it, his touch, and you wonder if he knew that you would. Every thought bound to his fingertips so that no matter where your mind wanders it always makes its way back to him, to the sharp sting of his palm, the pad of his thumb trailing along your neck.

So you try to do what you can to occupy yourself while you mentally tick off the days, just keeping as busy as you can, reminding yourself that first and foremost you’re here to do a job.

You start to work overtime to try and fill as much of your days as possible, but when you arrive on the ninth straight day and the fourth of self-imposed doubles, one of the shift managers you’re not as familiar with jogs over and blocks your path to the lockers.

“Uhh, what’s up?” 

The man is lanky and tall, he must be at least 6’5” and it feels like you have to look almost straight up to make eye contact.

“Not today.” He states simply.

Ahh, right. As soon as you hear his accent you can’t believe that you forgot about actual Vlad from actual Romania. 

“Not what today?” You frown up at him.

“Work.” 

“Ok, I’m going to need a bit more than that,” you say, trying to walk around him, but he matches you and moves to block your path.

“Boss’s orders.”

“You’re not my boss, Vlad. So I’m not sure what you’re-”

“Not me,” he rolls his eyes, clearly thinking you’re daft. “You know, ‘The Boss?’ Do I not say it right?” He uses his fingers to make air quotes in an attempt to clarify his meaning and you blink with realization.

“Klaue??” 

“Yes. Now go away. Two days.” 

It’s one thing for Klaue to know your schedule, honestly that doesn’t surprise you, but is he really trying to stop you from working?

Vlad just shrugs when you narrow your eyes at him, but you know he’s right. It’s not in his hands and it’s a waste of breath to argue.

“Fine. I’ll be back tomorrow.” You finally give in and turn to leave.

“No, he says two-”

“Are you serious? It would have been a regular scheduled shift anyway, so I’ll be back tomorrow.”

Vlad frowns, unsure what to do with your resistance. 

“I’ll just work the first shift, no doubles.” You try to reassure him.

“He won't like it.”

“Then don’t tell him.” You turn away with a shrug as if that’s the obvious solution and not entirely delusional.

“He’ll find out!”

“Well, he’ll have to deal with it!” You say over your shoulder as you begrudgingly make your way back to your bunk.

You’re annoyed and unprepared for a day off and you can’t stand just sitting around with your nervous energy, so since it’s still early enough and the days-long autumn rain seems to have paused, you decide to drive a couple of hours away to a mountain lake bordered by trails. 

The weather is cool but perfect for hiking, and although the trail is steep and pocked with ankle deep mud in spots, you enjoy the ache that accumulates in your joints the longer you walk. 

After stopping for an early supper at a small lodge in the area with the resident orange tabby Mizzy (Marzipan is his full name, the server informs you) keeping you company on the next chair over, you still manage to return just after sunset.

* * *

Despite the physical fatigue from your hike you still sleep fitfully and end up wide awake in the early morning hours, which is when you notice the notification light on your phone, a flashing point next to your bed.

Your stomach does a very intense loop when you see that it’s a text from Klaue and you quickly sit up, flipping on your bedside light.

> Have you been thinking about me?

Oh.

You check the timestamp: thirty-seven minutes ago. You don’t know where he is so you have no way of knowing what time it would be for him. Would he even respond now, or would he be distracted with something else? Is he with people or alone, or has he fallen asleep? A hundred thoughts flit through your head, but you’re also buzzing from the fact that he reached out, and is likely well aware of what time it is where you are. 

What the hell, you think, and type a reply.

> Yes. > I haven’t been able to do much else, if I’m being honest.

You try to convince yourself that you don’t care if he responds, even if the staccato rhythm of your heart says otherwise, but you don’t have to dwell for long because after a few minutes you nearly gasp when a new message notification buzzes. 

> I’m pleased to hear it. > You took yesterday off?

Ok. Right to business, then.

> I did.

> And today.

> I haven’t decided yet.

You hit send, chewing your lower lip as you wait, but his response is decidedly quick this time.

> That wasn’t a question.

Shifting under the covers, you’re reminded that even through text his words have the ability to have your body swiftly warming.

> I know.

> And?

You pause, thumbs hovering over the screen. You really haven’t decided, and you could say no or yes to him now and still end up changing your mind in the morning. Maybe you'll be exhausted and willing to take the break, or you might still have energy to burn and want the distraction. 

There’s no other reason, surely, why you wouldn’t just do what he says.

> Ok. I won’t work tomorrow.

> Good.

> I’ve been thinking about you, too.

You inhale a shaky breath as your thighs squeeze together, the warmth that swirls there adding a boldness to your response.

> I’ve been wondering if you were. That makes me feel good.

It really fucking does, you realize, one of your hands working its way beneath the covers, and you shiver as you press the damp fabric of your underwear against your cleft.

> Well, I do enjoy making you feel good.  > I'm looking forward to doing it again.

> What if you already were? 

There’s a pause, longer than the rest, heat growing between your legs while you wait. Then:

> Where are you right now, darling?

You're still working out a reply when another message comes through.

> As much as I would prefer to continue this conversation, I have to go.

You slump with a grumble of frustration, however you perk up with his next message.

> But I should be back in two days.

Which means he’ll be back sooner than he’d said.

> I guess I'll just have to keep thinking about you until then.

You don't receive a reply back after your last text, but that doesn't stop you from moaning his name into your pillow, your heart continuing to beat hard in your chest long after as you think about how soon you'll see him. Finally drifting back to sleep just as morning light starts to illuminate the small window in your room.

* * *

You really do try to stick to what you'd agreed to but by the afternoon you’re once again too antsy to sit still, and your annoyance at Klaue telling you what to do is creeping back in. He may run the place but it’s not like he’s the one setting schedules, and would he actually care if you worked or not? Or even notice?

You had hoped that Vlad wouldn’t be there or that you would be able to avoid him, but the man appears seemingly out of nowhere - an impressive feat with his height. He just stands there with a long arm extended and wordlessly points towards the door, unphased by the scowl you aim back over your shoulder as you turn away in defeat.

You've just finished a complicated project and are in the process of prepping the next phase when you notice a bustle of movement out of the corner of your eye, and then Tom walks into the workshop and lets everyone know it’s time to head to the loading dock.

He's back.

Every nerve in your body fires awake in a single hot surge and you have to fight to keep your expression and body language neutral while you hastily put away your gear and join the others. 

As soon as you make it to the dock you immediately start scanning the crowd and it feels like you can't get a full breath, like you’re being held underwater with your lips hovering just beneath the plane of surface tension and even though you're so close to a lungful of air it may as well be a mile away. 

Your heart jumps when you think you catch a flash of tattooed skin through the crowd. Someone pushes roughly past your elbow but you barely register it, your eyes flicking from face to face in the spot where you think you saw him, and then your breath is caught in your chest when two bodies part and the sharp profile and unmistakable arc of black ink emerges. 

Focused on his conversation Klaue doesn’t see you yet, so you watch and wait, your eyes not leaving him as he discusses something with a man you don’t recognize, a frown of concentration knitting his brows.

He looks rather the worse for wear, clothes dark and stained at the edges and the rest of him no better, his hands and arms smudged almost up to his elbows. Your mind goes hazy as you drink him in, overwhelmed by the thought of those hands grabbing your thighs, digging into the flesh of your hips and leaving smudges behind on your clean skin. Marking you.

Crossing your arms tight against your chest you try to tamp down the tremble in your limbs when he eventually steps forward and starts issuing instructions, and as you watch you think you can see his gaze moving deliberately over the crowd, your breath coming shallower as he gets closer to where you're standing. 

Then his eyes flick past you for a fraction of a second before returning to lock with yours, a hitch in his voice when they do. It’s nothing more than a brief stumble, a handful of words haltingly spoken before continuing on like normal, but you’re sure you hear it. 

He keeps his gaze fixed on you now, and even from a distance his sharp blue eyes have you held and pinned beneath them.

And you don’t look away this time. 

When Klaue approaches you afterwards you’re barely able to get out a “Hi” before you’re interrupted by a very large man saying something about a call from The Chancellor. 

It feels in that moment like maybe you actually could produce daggers from your eyes if you concentrated hard enough, but your frustration is tempered with sharp satisfaction when you see the flash of fear in the man’s eyes at the look Klaue gives him as he slowly turns to acknowledge the update. 

Once the messenger has slunk away, he turns back at you, resignation clear in his expression, but a glint of promise in his words.

“I’ll find you.” 

* * *

By the time everyone disperses your shift is over, and not knowing how long Klaue is going to be you decide to change and head to your workroom to pass some time. It’s turned into an unseasonably warm day and with no air conditioning currently running the facility is steadily warming up, so on a whim you decide on a dress, throwing on a simple knee-length white cotton shift with your boots.

A couple of hours later you've already reorganized all of your materials twice and now you're leaning over your sketchbook, a reference photo of the mountains from your hike the other day open on your phone. 

You try to focus on the relaxed strokes of linear shading but your mind refuses to stay put, not that it takes more than a wayward nudge to have your thoughts drifting to him instead.

You almost don’t notice your hands turn to a fresh page until graphite is finding his profile in the paper, the sharp line of his nose dipping to the curve of full lips. A few curls escaping above a sharp eyes and furrowed brow. It's not perfect but your breath still catches as his image emerges and anticipation wells up once again, a swollen river on the verge of overflowing its banks as you wonder for the seventy-fifth time if he’ll show up. 

Or if you’ll end up back in your room alone when you eventually accept that he’s not coming tonight. Which is fine, you reason with yourself, fighting the granite weight that’s settling in your gut. He’s a busy man, if he doesn’t have time, then- 

"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes."

You whip around, your hand reflexively crumpling your sketch of the man who’s now framed in the doorway. 

It seems like he came straight here since he's still wearing the same clothes layered with oil and grime, and although it looks like he’s made some attempt to wash them his hands and arms are the same. Even so, your eyes are quickly drawn to where they’re crossed against his chest, the fabric pulled taut beneath them.

"You found me!" You finally manage with a laugh, quickly dropping your pencil and closing the now disheveled sketchbook, wondering how long he’d been watching you.

“Thought I’d try here first. I’m glad I did.” Uncrossing his arms Klaue moves into the room, and the heat that had been tempered by frustration while you waited now reignites in your core as he approaches.

"Jesus, you really are filthy."

It takes a moment to register that you just said those words out loud, biting the tip of your tongue between your teeth when you do.

"I can go clean up," he points back into the hallway, casually turning as if he were making to leave. "It won't take lo-"

"No!” It comes out more forcefully than you intend. 

He turns back to you, an initial look of surprise shifting to a soft smirk as his eyes move across your body, sharpening when they slide down over your bare legs as if just now noticing what you're wearing.

“No, I mean, you don't...have to do that.” You continue, shifting on your feet as his eyes continue their hungry path.

It's not just that you feel a peculiar madness creeping in at the thought of him leaving again, but you’re also definitely realizing that you like it. That the thought of his thick, smudged fingers contrasted against white fabric is making your breathing go shallow. 

Making you itch for him to make a mess of you, too.

“How did you even get like this?” You attempt to corral your thoughts, working to keep your tone somewhere between amused and lightly incredulous.

“I was in South Africa. Lots of work needs doing, and there was a rather limited supply of soap and running water, I’m afraid,” Klaue shrugs, looking down at his hands, and you bite your lip as your own gaze follows. “I have washed since then, but I need something stronger to do a proper job.”

You want to pay attention, really you do. You would happily listen to every little thing he could think to tell you, greedily gleaning hints of where he’s been and what he does when he’s not here, fascinated on a mechanical level how he keeps this entire operation running. 

But right now you’re losing the ability to focus on anything but the syrupy lust that’s pooling rapidly between your thighs.

When you look back up he's watching you with a relaxed stillness, having clearly caught you staring, and once you meet his gaze he steps the rest of the way into the room, not taking his eyes off of you as he closes the heavy door behind him.

Then your feet are carrying you across the last of the distance between you, hands quickly sliding up and around his neck where you feel firm muscle flexing beneath your fingers as Klaue’s arms wrap around your waist to pull you flush against him. 

“Did you miss me, darling?” 

Your heart jumps hearing the pet name again, and the intoxicating rumble that’s followed you both in dreams and waking hours pulls a shiver from deep within you, your eyes flicking between his as you tilt your head up.

“Why don’t you find out?” You pant against his lips.

Then his mouth is closing over yours, skin barely meeting before you instinctively part your lips and slip your tongue into his mouth, an arcing jolt of heat in your core at the soft growl this elicits from him. One of his hands moves to the back of your head to hold you firmly in place as he responds to you, the kiss quickly becoming messy with need as his tongue delves hungrily into your mouth in a warm, demanding slide.

You’re swiftly and willingly becoming untethered beneath his touch as you let him kiss you breathless, but your store of patience has been waning, and it suddenly drops to zero when you roll your hips and feel the ridge of his hard cock pressing into you.

Immediately your hands drop lower, sliding over his chest and abdomen and down to his belt where your fingers fumble blindly at metal and leather. 

Breaking the kiss his hands quickly brush yours out of the way, and as he removes his belt you step back and reach under your dress to pull your underwear down your legs, almost tipping over as you hastily step out of them with your boots still on. 

You haven’t even straightened all the way back up when you find yourself being spun and pinned against the door with a broad thigh pressed firmly between yours, the friction of the fabric of your dress dragging against your sex as your hips rock in response.

Pulling back, Klaue's dark eyes find yours as he reaches down to lift the hem of your dress, calloused fingers and cool metal trailing up to the aching spot where your thighs meet.

A gasp escapes your throat when the tips of two fingers drag along your cleft, and as they slip through the moisture that’s already gathering there something in his gaze seems to fall away, giving you a split second glimpse of a shade of blue that you’re not sure exists before snapping back in to focus on you. 

As you sense the resettling of his control his fingers begin to move with purpose, parting you and sliding so easily through your damp folds, slowly circling but not touching your clit before dipping back down down to tease at your entrance. 

Finding out exactly how wet you already are for him.

“You did miss me, didn’t you,” he rasps, allowing just the tip of his middle finger to slip into you before dragging the slick digit back up to circle your clit again, your hips jerking when he brushes the sensitive bud. 

“Yes. God, I need you.” Your hips eagerly seek more pressure, shuddering against the slip of his finger and the low words that chase a pleased sigh to drop straight down to your core.

“I know you do, darling.” 

Then he pulls away and quickly finishes undoing his pants, pushing them down to finally free his erection, and you're to keep from moaning at the intoxicating sight of his cock bobbing heavily between you. But before you can reach out to touch him with hungry fingertips he bends down to grip you under your thighs and suddenly you’re being lifted. 

With a surprised ‘Oh!’ your legs instinctively wrap around his waist as he presses you back against the door and you feel him adjusting his hips to line himself up with your entrance, a stuttered whine spilling from your throat as he starts to press up into you, his answering groan making your cunt clench around the thick head of his cock. 

You feel almost mad with need, and there hasn’t been a day since Klaue left that the thought of him stretching you open again hadn’t crossed your mind but, god, he’s so much. 

Using his shoulders and the brace of the door against your back you attempt to keep yourself somewhat lifted so that you can have a second to adjust.

"Wait, you’re..I just need to-" But your stammered words are cut off when he thrusts up again.

"Ohh, but you’re doing so well darling,” he grits out, tightening his grip on your thighs to keep you pinned in place. Christ, I’ve been thinking about being buried in you since the moment I left.”

“So’ve I,” you pant, “but oh my god, you’re- oh!”

You let out a startled cry when he suddenly pulls away from the door, and now that you’re unable to properly brace against anything the weight of your body has you sliding further down his length, trembling arms hopelessly clinging to his shoulders as he works himself deeper inside of you.

“Don’t know if I can." You plead, even as the responding roll of your hips follows the line of needy flame that’s building deep in your core

"Don’t lie, darling. Not when I know how well you take my cock, now." Klaue scolds, his hands palming your ass and helping you to take him further as you writhe against that now familiar ache of overwhelming fullness. 

Every sense is filled by him as he fills your cunt; the scratch of his beard against your cheek a mirror of the teasing texture of his words, the scent of his musk leaving you lightheaded, a sinful petrichor that fills you with need even as he’s already giving you so much, and as he continues to buck up into you your fingers roughly pull the collar of his shirt aside so that you can lick hungrily along his neck. 

The skin beneath your tongue tastes the way the earth must taste to the roots of a newly planted sapling. A deep amber and heady thing that has a wave of drenching heat rippling out from your core as his cock starts to slide more easily into you, a harsh need flaring hot through your veins as your muscles tense and relax, opening for the unyielding thickness of him.

And while your body softens the current of your mind goes rough, your mouth watering as you continue to kiss and lick across his skin until without consciously thinking about it, driven by something else, something low and base that you’re not sure you could name, you sink your teeth into the place where the taut muscle of his neck meets his shoulder.

With a surprised hiss you're suddenly back against the door with all of his weight pressing into you, and you cry out when a rough thrust has him finally buried deep.

“That’s my little liar,” Klaue grunts with another hard thrust. 

You can’t respond in any meaningful way, only moaning brokenly as he builds a deep, steady rhythm, and it's not long until the aching stretch combined with the friction of his hips against your clit has your thoughts fading, the telltale thrum swiftly building as he fucks you.

"Going to come already, aren’t you?” He growls between rough breaths, his fingers finding new bruises in the soft flesh of your thighs as your muscles tighten around him. “Such a needy little thing." 

"Ohmygodyes, I’m so close, please-" 

“Hmmm, it's too bad you didn't listen, then, isn't it?” 

Klaue’s words are low and measured but don't make sense as they filter through the thick haze of pleasure.

"What?" You pant as his arms flex to lift you, pulling you up and off of his cock and you brace for a hard thrust back in. But instead he slowly lowers your legs until you don’t have much choice and your booted feet reluctantly drop back down to the floor as he releases you.

“Wait. What..what’re you doing?” Your now rumpled dress falls back over your legs as you stand there breathless and achingly empty.

“You were supposed to be resting.” 

Klaue’s tone chides as he tucks his erection into his pants and makes his way over to the couch.

“What?” You ask for the third time, shaking your head in confusion. And then finally it clicks. He’s referring to your self-imposed work schedule, and presumably your recent trip off-compound - not that that should be any of his business. 

He raises an eyebrow as the realization dawns on your face.

“I’m not saying you can’t do overtime, that's part of the contract," he continues. "But it's hard work and you work hard, and that many days in a row plus the doubles? You’re smarter than that." 

Struggling to work out a response, his praise couched in a reprimand only adds to the difficulty in regaining your equilibrium.

"You need to rest." His words are notched with an edge that doesn’t invite discussion, yet hot resistance still flares your chest.

"But I can't rest." you burst out, a new layer of frustration weaving itself in. "I can't relax, I-” 

You cut yourself off with a huff before you say too much, before you admit that he's the reason you can’t relax. Your lips press together into a thin line as your jaw works. 

Mention of your contract had also smarted a little, though why should it? It was a simple statement and the reason you’re here, after all.

You take a breath to steady yourself.

"It's not exactly like there's a lot to do around here, and it takes time to travel anywhere else, so I'm going to do what I can to help pass the time.” When you’re not here, you don’t add. “And by the way, you didn’t say anything about resting. You just said no work, and I didn't- "

"But you did try, didn't you?" He cuts you off with a dark look. “After you said you wouldn’t.”

Your face goes hot but you manage to not look away. Damn it, Vlad. Of course he's going to find out if you tell him.

"Listen, you don’t have to worry about me. I know my abilities and I don’t need you telling me what I can or can't do!" 

Even as the words are coming out of your mouth you know that your belligerence sounds foolish.

"That's interesting.” Klaue tilts his head and you have to actively fight the instinct to take a step back when his eyes darken to a perilous shade of blue. “Because I think you're going to do exactly what I tell you to." 

Despite your frustration, heat flares between your legs at the double meaning in his words. 

“And right now, that means you're going to wait to come on my cock." 

You can only stare at him open-mouthed while he watches you from his seat, a glint of gold flashing through the smug grin that tugs at his lips. And now you understand: He could have brought all this up as soon as he found you, but he hadn’t. He’d waited. Timing it perfectly to drive you perfectly fucking mad.

“Now, come here." 

You want to protest, want to dig in your heels and resist even as his voice draws you along on the tether of unsatisfied need that he’s already woven so masterfully in you. 

Instead you straighten your shoulders and slowly make your way over to the couch, trying to hide the hitch in your breath at the pleased expression on his face when you stop in front of him.

"Do you want me on my knees, again?" You ask, vividly recalling the last time you were in this very same position.

Your confidence wavers when you catch the glint in his eye, a flash of something dangerously sharp concealed beneath curling waves, but you can’t help but thrill at the moment of consideration you see there before his expression steadies again.

"Very much, darling,” Klaue hums. “But right now there’s something else I want." 

You’re getting increasingly impatient to feel him again but when you move forward intending to straddle him, his hands quickly stop you and you have to step back again.

“What did I just say?” He chides with a quirk of his brow, and you let out a frustrated huff.

“That…I have to wait.” You frown but then flush when you realize that you’re actually pouting.

“To come on my cock.” He corrects you, shifting forward to sit on the edge of the couch so that you’re standing between his knees. “But I’m still going to make you come before that happens.”

Your body reacts swiftly to his words, but then you’re caught off guard when his hands slide down your legs and begin unlacing your boots, finding yourself fighting the affection that seeps into your chest when he helps you steady yourself as he removes and tosses them aside.

Your attention is quickly drawn back to his touch, though, because as soon as you’ve straightened up his hands are brushing at the hem of your dress, pushing it up ever so slightly before sliding back down to your knees.

Looking up at you Klaue watches your face, a pleased twitch on his lips when your eyelids flutter in response to the inward curl of his thumbs. You know that he can feel the muscles of your thighs tense and flex as the firm pressure of his hands moves a little higher beneath the cotton hem, inching closer to where you haven’t stopped aching for him, before dropping back down again.

“Let me see, darling." Klaue hums, his words warm and teasing.

As though you had something you were hiding from him. And he wanted it.

You begin to gather the fabric of your dress in your hands, drawing up the hem, slowly, until you see his eyes darken as your sex is exposed to him.

“Did you think about this while you were gone, too?” You tease, but you’re quickly cut off when he leans forward and drags his lips along your cleft

“Thought about what? The taste of you?” You're unable to catch the whimper in your throat when his tongue flicks out, just barely parting you.

“Or that sweet sound you make the first time my tongue touches your cunt?” His voice goes rough as hands slide around to your ass, steadying you as your hips start to rock against the agonizing tease of his lips.

“Or that smart mouth of yours.”

Klaue drags the tip of his nose along your cleft and through the thatch of hair above it, and the puff of heated breath against your sensitive flesh has you clenching around nothing. 

Broad hands now move around your thighs to nudge you forward, a hand releasing your dress to reach for his shoulder for balance as he coaxes one of your legs up until your foot is resting on the cushion next to his hip. 

Standing open for him now his hand doesn't hesitate to find your center, the vee of his fingers parting your lower lips to expose you further, and the look on his face as he takes you in makes the wet throb deepen as you quickly understand what he meant by want.

After what seems like an eternity of looking Klaue finally leans forward to touch you, pressing his lips against your swollen clit he lets the tip of his tongue flick out to nudge and slip against the sensitive bud, until with a satisfied hum his mouth drops open and envelopes you. 

Soft grunts ripple through your sex, the wet heat of his mouth adding to the slick of your already dripping folds as he slides his lips and tongue between your legs until you begin to tremble, sucking and circling your clit until he finds that spot that makes your muscles go taut 

Startled by how quickly pleasure is coalescing beneath the quick, circling pressure of his tongue you don’t even have a chance to get any words out before you're coming. You can only gasp and then your body is bowing forward and you're keening as the waves roll through you, a strong arm tightening around your leg to keep you where he wants you as you ride out the crest of your orgasm, holding you against his mouth until the needy movements of your hips begin to soften.

When Klaue finally pulls his mouth away he holds you steady until you manage to find your balance again, but when you remove your foot from the couch and go to take a step back his firm grip once again traps you in place.

"Where do you think you're going, darling? He frowns with a curious tilt of his head. “I'm not done yet."

Then you watch as he moves forward and slips off the couch, shifting himself down until he’s sitting on the floor in front of you with the top of his shoulders resting on the seat cushion, head raised to look up at you standing between his legs and your mind goes fuzzy when he licks his lips, making a show of tasting you.

“Oh, you want-”

“Take off your dress.” He rumbles. “Now, please.” 

Feeling nearly hypnotized with want you quickly pull the garment over your head and toss it aside.

“That too,” his eyes flick to your bra, watching intently as you unclasp and discard that as well, your breath going shallow when you see the hunger in his expression deepen as he takes you in, standing naked before him. For him. 

“Come here.” That irresistible command again, expectant eyes fixed on yours as he waits, unmoving.

As soon as you take a tentative step forward he leans back, licking his lips again as you slowly lift one leg and then the other until your knees are positioned on either side of his head. Bracing yourself on the back of the couch his hands slide up around your ankles, gooseflesh prickling beneath his fingers as they trail up your calves to the crooks of your knees.

Your skin heats up when you look down at him positioned between your spread thighs, but you only have a moment to dwell in any self-consciousness when Klaue tilts his mouth up and recaptures your still fluttering clit between his lips as his eyelids slip closed, an expression of contented bliss deepening the crease between his brows as though he were savoring something exquisite.

“Fuck.” You whimper at the sensation of his lips around your oversensitive bundle of nerves, yet a soft heat is quickly building again.

But then he leaves your clit, and you sigh at the sensation of his questing tongue sliding down through your folds to find your entrance. Spread open above him as you are, he easily slips the tip of his tongue into you, and you shiver when you feel his groan that vibrates through you as your release floods his tongue. 

With fingers digging into your flesh he adjusts the angle of your hips so that he can slide deeper, moaning open mouthed against you as his nose presses and slides though your folds with every greedy plunge of his tongue, and you shiver when it nudges against your clit as he drinks you in, his panting breath both warm and cool against your aching nerves.  

Your thoughts are already a blur when his slips out of you and uses his grip to slide your cunt along his tongue, licking a broad stripe from your hole up to your clit and back down again, and you can only whimper and sigh as he rocks you against his mouth.

With your arms starting to shake you lean further into the back of the couch, and when this changes the angle of your hips Klaue quickly takes advantage, a hand reaching back around your thigh until you feel two fingers slide into you, and while you welcome the breach it also reminds you how badly you still want his cock. 

Although you also realize that was likely part of his intention, since you both know that you still have to wait.

You don’t dwell on this thought for long, however, because this angle allows him to hook his fingers, and while keeping them buried deep inside of you he starts dragging firmly against the spot that steals your breath. 

Klaue grunts when your inner walls clench and your thighs tighten against his face, waves of white-hot pleasure building in your core, and you can feel how much you’re dripping down your thighs and his face, skin sliding against the rough scruff of his beard that you’re dimly aware must also be soaked.

Pulling his mouth off of you with a wet sound he stares up at you for a moment and he’s a fucking image beneath you, panting to catch his breath, looking half-drunk with eyes as glossy as his lips and chin where they’re coated in your slick.

“Taste so fucking good, darling,” he praises, voice rough with honeyed lust. 

The slick squelch of his fingers is obscenely loud as he continues the curling strokes and you can only mewl helplessly, the clenching pressure spreading through you until your vision greys at the edges as you approach the brink again.

One of your hands drops to his hair, sliding your fingers into his curls and gripping tight as you lower your hips until your cunt finds his mouth again.

“Need you here.” 

You’re startled by the sharp demand that bleeds through the desperation in your voice, but are with a hum of appreciation as Klaue’s mouth falls open without hesitation, his eager tongue pressing flat as you grind against it and your hips fall into their own instinctive rhythm.

His other arm tightens around your thigh, seeming to anticipate it just as your muscles string tight and the arch of your back has you unintentionally pulling away. You sob as your orgasm swells up, all your senses but touch seeming to go dim so that even though you don’t hear it the deep vibration of his growl flows out from the point where his rough and greedy tongue is pulling you apart thread by thread.

“Oh my god, please, please, I’m gonna come, please make me come-” 

His name is etched on the cry that releases from your throat as you fall over the edge again, writhing and flexing against the grip that holds you firmly against his mouth as wave after wave sweeps through your body. Keeping his fingers buried, your release soaks his hand and wrist as thick fingers continue to pump into you, until with a stuttered cry it finally becomes too much and you have to pull away.

You revel in the heat of his breath on your thighs as you catch yours. Only when you start to slump does he eventually slide his fingers out of you, and it doesn’t take much to encourage you to tip to one side where you collapse on the couch a sweaty, panting mess.

While you recover Klaue slowly sits up, taking a moment to roll his neck before pulling himself to standing. Looking entirely self-satisfied and not bothering with the buttons he pulls his shirt over his head, using it to somewhat clean his face and hand before tossing it somewhere in the vicinity of your dress.

“You were so good for me, taking what you needed.” The pleased lilt in his voice along with the sight of him bare-chested and looming over you makes you shudder. “What do you think that means now?”

“That...that I get to come on your cock?” You ask, still breathless, not bothering to hide the hopefulness in your words as your eyes flick down to where you can clearly see the thick ridge of his erection straining against his half-zipped pants..

"Smart girl." 

You bite your lip and flush, even now your cunt fluttering at his praise, wonton need quickly blooming again at just the thought of him filling you.

“On your hands and knees for me then, darling.” Klaue’s voice goes deep, down to that place in the bedrock that tells you he won’t be holding back much longer. "I’m going to fuck you hard, and so fucking deep until all you can do is beg to come for me again.”

“Fuck.” You can’t help your pathetic whimper. “How do you- god it drives me fucking crazy when you talk like that." 

“I know it does. And how can I help it when you make sounds like that for me.”

Feeling like you’re glowing, anticipation builds high in your chest as you shift so that you're kneeling long-ways on the cushions. The feral curl of his lips makes you both cower and clench as he drops down a knee to the couch, the other booted foot staying planted on the floor as he positions himself behind you, the muscles of his chest and arms flexing as he roughly works his pants down.

You gasp as he suddenly half-lifts half-pulls you back towards him, and when you feel the brush of his cock hot and achingly hard against the back of your thighs you Instinctively arch your back, tilting your hips to unabashedly open yourself up for him. Knowing he can see the slick shine of what he’s already done to you coating your sex and the insides of your thighs.

“Ohh, and you think I’m filthy. Look at this pretty mess of a cunt, just begging to be filled.” Klaue purrs, gripping his length in one hand and sliding the head through your folds. “You want me to come in it, don’t you? Make even more of a mess.”

“God yes, I want you to come so fucking deep. Need to feel it again.” You whine as his delicious girth starts to press into you, one hand firm on your hip, the other sliding up to your shoulder.

“Oh, you need it, do you?” He teases, his words the rough slide of stone against stone. "Is that what you thought about, klein mot?"

“Yes. Every fucking day.” You turn to look back at him, your eyes imploring. “Please, Ulysses.” 

His name becomes a desperate keen, the ache of relief flooding through you as he finally starts to press into you again.

“Fuck, that sound is even better,” he grits as your muscles give in, stretching open around him. 

Keeping his hips nearly still, Klaue uses his grip on your shoulder to pull you back onto his cock in a slow, relentless plunge, and when you look back over your shoulder you see that his eyes are fixed on where you’re joined, his heated gaze as firm as the grip of his fingers on your hip.

You’re getting impatient, though, and you can’t help it: as you watch the mesmerized expression on his face, chest heaving rough breaths as you take his cock, you wiggle your hips, making a little show of taking him another inch, inhaling a sharp hiss through your teeth when his grip tightens.

“Stay still.” He rasps, clearly picking up on your tease, yet his voice is somehow desperately soft, soothing you even as his fingers dig harshly into your shoulder. “Shh, don’t worry, darling, you're going take all of it.” 

You can only whimper and clench hard around him, the tremble of your muscles deepening as you resist your body’s desire to arch and writhe in response to his words and his touch, biting your lower lip so hard that you taste copper. 

But somehow you manage to keep still.

Once Klaue senses your acquiescence he rewards you with a rhythmic, rolling motion of his hips that slides him deeper, deeper, until you feel the coarse hair at the base of his cock brushing against your heated skin, and with a final, less controlled thrust his hips finally comes flush against your ass. 

For a moment he pauses, breathing heavily but otherwise not moving, simply keeping himself buried in you and you revel in the feeling of being stretched and filled with him, agonizingly aware of every twitch of his cock against your walls.

An unbearable lust fills you, and you’re not sure how much longer you can stand it when the hand on your shoulder slides along your waist and over the soft swell of your hip, and then he's spreading you open to get a better view of where he’s buried, where you yield more easily to him now. 

Keeping you like this he pulls most of the way out of you before slowly sliding back in, and you know that he can feel fresh waves of arousal soaking him, can see it slicking his length as he moves. And even when he begins to thrust more quickly he also seems to be intentionally avoiding setting a rhythm, his movements stay just off-kilter enough to hold you back from the edge, first sliding into you in slow, deep strokes, making sure you feel all of him, then shifting to shallower thrusts, pulling back until just the head of his cock is teasing your hole.

“Oh my god, more-” You nearly sob, no care whatsoever to hide your desperation.

“Patience, my darling, you’ll get it.” Klaue’s voice is shot through with a distracted awe, his fingers tightening in response when you try to move against him again. “You’ll be begging soon enough.”

You’ve been focusing on keeping yourself upright but your wrists are getting stiff and your arms are starting to shake, so when he suddenly drives deep again your arms go out from under you and with the unexpected shift he slips forward, rutting even deeper and you both moan in surprise.

Catching himself he braces his hands on either side of your body before pulling back and thrusting again. Suddenly being buried in you seems to have severed the last of his control and he sets a steady pace now, the snap of his hips wet and loud every time he bottoms out as a heady pressure quickly blooms deep and incandescent.

Aching to brush your fingers against your clit you move to reach down between your legs, but he must notice you shifting, your hands scrabbling lower as your muscles start to tighten around him.

“Keep your hands where they are. You’re going to come like this, yeah?” Your hand freezes at his growled words.

“Going to have to fuck me harder, then.” 

You can’t help the taunt even though you’re barely able to get the stuttered words out through how hard he’s already fucking you, how close you are to coming entirely apart.

Suddenly you feel him shift and a hand is pressing down between your shoulders, the other leaning into the back of your hip, and then what seems like the full weight of him is braced against you and you lose all control of your body as he finally starts to fuck you, hard. Your knees slide back as he pushes you down into the cushions, and you can barely breathe as he drives into you, your eyes squeezing shut so hard tears escape between your lashes and dampen the rough fabric beneath your cheek.

His brutal rhythm has your thoughts lost, and you’re half aware that you're proving him right because now you're begging, a barely coherent string of pleasepleaseplease driven from your lips with every jolt against your body.

Pinned beneath the relentless weight of him you’re unable to do anything but succumb, overwhelmed by the breathless thrill of realization that all you have to do is let him take you, let him take care of you, and he does - each stroke of his cock assuaging every ache of frustration of the last twelve days, soothing every memory of your own fingers failing to satisfy you while you waited.

“Come for me, mot, just like that, god-”

The heat of your climax focuses to a point and breaks open deep inside of you as everything goes hazy and bright at once. Every muscle in your body strung tight as he hits the deepest part of you and you’re dimly aware of your cries as you come harder than you thought you could, Klaue’s thrusts not letting up as he continues to fuck you until you you can only mumble curses in gasps and sobs.

"So fucking good for me," Klaue pants, the hard, steady rhythm going rough and desperate as the control behind his thrusts wavers. “Going to make you take all of it.”

On the next thrust he stills suddenly, fully buried in you until with a choked groan and another jerk of his hips you feel the hard throb as he comes, the roll of his hips causing your back to arch as he continues to press as deep as he can, and you moan in relief when you feel his spend filling you with every pulse of his cock, the last tight waves of your own orgasm drawing every last drop. 

Finally he collapses, draping himself over your back, sweat slicking your bodies as his lips trail wet kisses along the back of your neck and eliciting a whimpered cry then his teeth find the sensitive spot where your neck meets your shoulder, your pussy twitching as his teeth nip and worry at the spot before sliding his tongue, warm and soothing over the reddened flesh.

Shifting his hips Klaue pulls back out just an inch or two, hissing through his teeth from the overstimulation but then moaning louder than you do when he slides back in and you feel his cum and yours leaking out, feel the sticky slide of it where he’s pressed against you, the sensation tangling exquisitely with his rough whisper against your ear.

“Perfect fucking mess.”

Sitting up in bed with a book propped open on your bent knees you’re attempting to read, but the lines of text keep going blurry as a familiar exhaustion starts to overtake you. 

Your thoughts instead slip back to standing in the shower with him, water rinsing the soap from your bodies, exchanging glances and brushes of wet skin as you move around each other in the small space. 

Standing under the hot spray you could see that even though he had in fact washed with your regular soap there was still considerable smudging on his hands and arms.

“This stuff is rather strong. I don’t want to subject you to that.” Klaue grins, holding up the bottle he'd brought with him which says something about charcoal, an aggressively orange scent filling the humid space as soon as he twists it open.

“Oof, yeah ok,” you laugh and begrudgingly step out of the shower, catching him watching you out of the corner of your eye as you grab a towel and slide the door shut.

You’d been surprised when he told you he would meet you back here after picking up the soap, but you’d tried to keep from seeming outwardly pleased. At first you assumed it was because he just needed to use the shower and your bunk happened to be closer, but when you open the door you see that he’d also brought a change of clothes, so he had gone back to his room anyway.

Still, there must be some other reason. The likelihood of more sex seems the most obvious, you suppose, not that that’s a bad thing. After all you’d certainly been hoping to take advantage of however long he’ll be here this time, and you try to focus on that thought instead, rather than worrying about the why.

So now you sit on your bed and wait in a fresh t-shirt and underwear, attempting to read but more accurately re-reading the same couple of sentences as you quickly lose the battle against your fluttering eyelids, drifting as you hear the water shut off…

…your head snaps up when Klaue emerges from the bathroom, raising his arms in a small ‘ta-da’ gesture.

You can’t help but grin as you take him in, all damp skin and ink and untamed curls falling across his forehead, but your tongue flicks out to wet your lips when your eyes wander to the towel that’s tucked around his waist, and isn’t currently leaving very much to the imagination.

He smirks when he sees where your eyes are directed and you fail to bite back a smile as he makes his way over to sit on the edge of your bed, but as he comes level with you he tilts his head, the crease between his brows deepening.

“You look tired, Mot.” 

“Nooo, I’m fine..” you protest, although it doesn’t sound convincing even to your own ears, and when his hand reaches up to your face you can’t help but press your cheek into his warm palm, humming as a sliver of bliss slides through your chest, and the last thing you’re aware of is the book suddenly vanishing from your grasp.

* * *

You feel fuzzy and disoriented. 

You’re pretty sure someone just spoke but you couldn’t guess what they’d said.

"I have to go soon, darling." Klaue repeats, strong fingers slowly massaging your shoulder.

You hear him this time but you still feel like you're a bit sideways, partly because that means that he’s still here, but also because you seem to have tucked yourself against his side, both hands curled beneath your chin and a leg slung across his thigh. 

"How-” The first word catches and you clear your throat. “How long was I asleep?" You mumble, one hand rubbing your bleary eyes.

"About an hour."

“What??” You squeak, raising your head suddenly. “That can’t be right, I feel like..I feel like I’ve been asleep for a day.” 

“I’m not surprised, you practically fell asleep right in my hands," he chuckles.

Gradually you start to accept that he must be right when you notice he seems to have been reading the book that you'd been failing to read before you apparently passed out, and that he’s also still just wearing the same towel as earlier.

You suppose you could just get your phone to check for certain, but it’s still in your bag and that would mean leaving the firm warmth of his chest, and you can't seem to drag your eyes away from the broad swath of skin right in front of your eyes, or the soft curl of hair that trails across it and down his abdomen. Down beneath the fabric that’s still, unfortunately, tucked at his waist. 

Laying your head back down you give yourself a moment to get your bearings, trying to solidify in your mind both that it's actually still today, and that Klaue is once again in your bed.

“Something the matter?” He asks, perhaps noticing your stillness.

“No, no I’m fine. I just.." Maybe it's because you're still only half awake and your filter isn't all the way in place tet but decide to just be honest. "I guess I’m surprised you’re still here. Once you showered I figured you would have gone on your way, especially after I passed out on you.” You smile sheepishly. 

“Well, I didn’t want to just leave if I didn’t have to,” you feel him shrug. ”Though, I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to wake you," he teases.

“That, uh, happened last time, too.” You huff a laugh. “I just crashed as soon as you left.”

Thoughts of exactly what had exhausted you so thoroughly float to the front of your mind, and when your hips twitch of their own accord you’re suddenly and acutely aware that your clothed mound is pressed against his leg, just below where the towel ends.

Your breathing shallows, and though he doesn’t say anything you feel the broad muscle of his thigh flex as it presses against you and you reflexively arch into him as your leg tightens around his.

You chance a look up at him from beneath your eyelashes, bashful at your body's swift reaction until you see the knowing look in his eyes, smug when you moan softly and rock your hips in response to another firm press of his thigh.

Keeping your eyes on his you slide your hand slowly towards the towel, your heart rate speeding up when you see a dark shadow flit across the blue as your fingers play along the edge of the soft fabric.

"You have to go?" You sigh, pleased when you feel the muscles of his stomach tense beneath your fingers.

If he does then he’s going to have to tell you to stop - soon - the wet ache quickly spreading between your legs as you continue to slowly grind against his thigh, but then his hand is moving down your back and over the swell of your ass.

“So needy again already. I haven’t made you come enough tonight, is that it? Poor thing." Klaue tsks, his hand slipping beneath the edge of your underwear, and tugging down.

Taking that as his answer you don't waste another second, unhooking yourself you push the garment down and off of your legs as he finally untucks that damn towel, and you’ve barely turned back toward him when he grips your legs and lifts you until you’re straddling him before quickly divesting you of your t-shirt as well.

You start to press up off of your knees, expecting to feel his cock against your entrance, but instead his hands keep you pressed firmly down against him.

“I didn’t say stop.” His low words and stiffening cock both slide between your legs.

His hands move to cup your breasts as you start to move your hips, dragging your entrance along the velvety heat of his cock until the length of him is becoming slick with your arousal, and for several moments he watches appreciatively where he’s sliding through your folds, your hips bucking suddenly when his thumbs brush over the sensitive peaks of your nipples.

“God, I need you.” The rhythm of your hips grows quicker now. “Need you inside me.”

"Use me then, darling. Make yourself come and I'll fuck you again.”

You whimper as he rolls your nipples between thumb and forefinger, your hips tilting to find more of the slick friction against his now fully hard shaft, losing yourself as both sensations collide and collect somewhere at the base of your spine, your lips parting in a plaintive moan as you chase the crest of your orgasm.

“Look at me.” Klaue rasps.

You hear is words but you’re fading into the inevitable shimmer of pleasure as your hips find a tight rhythm, your senses tuned to focused points, fixed on the rough but soothing brush of chest hair beneath your palms, on every ridge and vein of his cock as it slides against your clit.  

So you gasp when your chin is suddenly trapped in the viselike grip of his fingers, forcing you to meet his eyes as his voice drops low. 

“I didn’t get to see your face before. So this time I need you to look at me when you come.”

Your focus snaps back to him and you’re startled by the look of reverence on his face, panting open mouthed as you rut against him, the hot blue flame of his eyes fixed on you as your climax overwhelms you and you surrender to the curl of his lips around your name.

Lost in the pulsing waves you feel urgent hands lift your writhing hips and position you over his cock, the trembling muscles of your thighs unable to hold you up at all now so that you can’t help but sink down onto him at the same time that he thrusts up, the stretch of him easier now but the ache deeper as he pushes inside of your still clenching walls.

Then he plants his feet and bends his knees, the sudden shift knocking you forward as he starts to fuck up into you, no waiting now, no teasing. An arm wraps tight around your waist as his other reaches up to slide a hand into your hair, fingers tightening until the delicious sting is singing through your nerves.

“Love the way your tight cunt squeezes my cock.” The rough warmth of his words finds its way through the still roiling of pleasure. “So good at taking my cum.”

Tears prick at your eyes as your bliss-dazed body relents to the deep, driving rhythm, and you’re barely able to brace yourself to meet his thrusts.

“Would you like to be good for me again?” Klaue’s pants roughly.

“Yesss.” you whine, overwhelmed at how even though he’s beneath you, somehow you still feel pinned in place.

“Try that again, darling.” 

“Please,” you sob, “fill my pussy. I wanna be so fucking good for you, please-” 

Releasing your hair his hand moves to grip the base of your neck instead, holding you firmly in place as you look down into his face, his eyes nearly black with lust, full lips parted as he pants and you can’t help but taste them, your mouth roughly finding his in a messy swirl of tongues and teeth that’s as much a kiss as a desperate attempt to find the breath that he seems to have stolen from you. 

Both of his thick arms wrap around your waist now and you simply try to hold on as he pounds into you, filling you again and again, and when you drop your face to  his neck his skin is scorching hot below the spot where his scruff rubs against your cheek. 

You ache to feel him let go again, and as his thrusts become sharper and more desperate your words come out in a stuttered plea against this neck

“Come for me. Please, Ulysses.” 

Klaue’s breathing goes ragged, and then his entire body tenses until with a shudder and a guttural moan you feel the warmth of his cum spreading inside you again, bliss swirling through you as you helplessly grind your hips to keep him buried as deep as possible.

The whisper of your name from his lips has you grateful that his arms are still holding you tight against him so that you can’t look into his eyes now, uncertain of what you might see there.

Still reeling from the look on his face as he held your chin in his hand and watched you unravel above him.

Still processing the word he'd spoken earlier, perhaps not even realizing it.

“Patience, my darling..”

My darling.

His.

For now you can only hope that he wants to keep touching you, because now that he has, you realize that he seems to have found some disparate elements of you that you didn’t know were separate until he was piecing them together with every brush of his lips and his hands and his words against your skin until you can’t help but feel anything but whole.

A/N: Obligatory Frodo_it's-over-it's-done dot gif!

I hope that you enjoyed this foray back into the the smutty adventures of Klaue and reader, there is still lots to come for them! I have no timeline for when, of course, but everything for part two is drafted, and I'm looking forward it. 😊