#but no my partner is using a lot of vaseline on their lips while they heal

[kirby-the-gorb]

[thiswasinevitableid]

this isn't a real mermay prompt, but if the mood strikes you: indulgent supernatural sugar daddy indrid? roleplaying that he's finally reached the limit of his patience for duck's teasing and now he's going to tie him to the bed and use him however he sees fit

Here you go! I riffed on something we discussed on the discord. CW for mentions of stripping, blood and booze, the roleplay could be read as dubcon but it's clear what they're doing and that everyone is consenting and enjoying themselves. After care is show.

“Damn, guess they ain’t kiddin when they say it’s the city that never sleeps.” Duck stares from the window of their suite onto the flashing neon and 11 pm traffic of the Las Vegas strip.

“I thought that was New York City?” Indrid looks up from where he’s laying their dinner out on the shiny black table.

“Maybe? I dunno, only ever been there once, on a trip with my folks as a kid.” Duck slides into his chair across from his grinning boyfriend. They picked up a massive spread of food earlier tonight, their friend Barclay having lots of intel on the best food in the city and the affection for them to write out a detailed list where to try.

Indrid grabs a pill from his bag on the bathroom counter, then settles across from Duck with an excited grin, “There, now I can dine without fear.”

They’re well into dessert when Indrid wipes his lips with a thoughtful hum.

“You know, sweet one, this never silent, ever bright environment lends itself well to certain activities.”

“Oh yeah?” Duck leans across the table to take his hand.

“I have more details that we can discuss while we digest, but to begin; how do you feel about dressing like the loudest man on a college campus for the night?”

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

Duck strides into the main floor of the Wynn, the industrial strength air conditioner practically sending him into shock after the heat of the pavement and desert air.

En route to the agreed upon Blackjack table, he makes eye contact with his reflection in a bank of windows. Only the flip flops were in his suitcase when they arrived; the mint green muscle tank and khaki shorts came from the nearest thrift store. He picked up special underwear once he and Indrid separated, suspecting it will make his boyfriend laugh. He loves making him laugh, even during their most intense scenes.

He gets his chips, his seat, and his hand within ten minutes, signaling a waiter for a screwdriver. God only knows why, but it feels like what this kind of guy would order on a Saturday afternoon. Duck’s decent at Blackjack; Juno taught him how to play and Ned helped him refine his technique. So he’s holding his own when a new player sits down two stools to his right.

“I intend to play the eccentric millionaire.”

When Indrid uttered that sentence, Duck pictured a slight variation on his usual evening wear; the suit he brings on trips just so he can take Duck out for nice meals without--as happened on one occasion-- being forced to borrow a jacket from a waiter.

He was not expecting this.

Indrid’s suit is jet black, blood-red lining flashing when he unbuttons his coat. His usual red glasses perch on his nose, and he’s done something to his hair that renders it sleek rather than it’s usual silvery tangle. His back is straight, his smile wide, and his manners pure perfection.

“May I join on the next hand?”

“One sparkling water please. Do add on a nice tip for yourself, won’t you?”

“Twenty! Oh, how delightful.”

Indrid wins more than he loses, careful to go over or come too far under enough times to avoid accusations of counting cards. Duck’s stack of chips dwindles, and he directs his frustration at this fact towards Indrid, muttering unkind things whenever the older man says, “hit me.”

When he’s down to thirty bucks, he taps out. Pushes back from the table with the huff of a man who’s used to getting what he wants. He finds the nearest bar and takes a small table for himself.

The chair across from him doesn’t stay vacant long.

“Hello.” Indrid folds his hands on the table, smiling pleasantly.

“What the fuck do you want?” Duck grumbles.

“To see if you were alright. You seemed rather upset when you left the table.”

“Ain’t upset, I’m fuckin broke. Came to vegas to get laid and get rich and I’m strikin out on both so far.”

“Perhaps I can help. I, ah, we are both here alone. Why don’t we keep each other company? Two bachelors taking on the city.” Indrid gives a very awkward “ta-dah” with his fingers.

“Dunno, I don’t really feel like slummin.”

“You won’t be. I promise.”

Duck leans back in his chair, arms crossed, “Oh yeah?”

A knife-edge enters Indrid’s smile, only to be covered by a menu, “Let me buy you lunch as proof. Order whatever you like.”

He calls the older man’s bluff by ordering a craft beer, the most expensive burger on the menu, and three appetizers, only to discover it was not, in fact, a bluff. Indrid pays for everything without so much as glancing at the prices.

“There now” he smiles at Duck as the waiter clears his leftover steak (“as rare as possible, please”), “have I proven myself a worthy companion?”

“Hell yeah.”

“Excellent” Indrid claps his hands together, “then let us see what else this town has to offer.”

While they digest they peruse the malls and casino hop wherever there are shaded routes that allow them to do so. As they’re maneuvering through the throng near the aquarium, Indrid says, “tell me a bit about yourself, Duck. Nono, wait, let me guess; southern prep school, expensive college, a family very happy to support you while you search for your place in the world?”

Duck nods (the only ways he’s able to lie during their scenes).

“I certainly hope you didn’t burn through your trust fund playing the slots.” Indrid elbows him playfully.

“Nah. Set myself a limit for what I could spend gamblin each day.”

“Clever young thing.”

“Indrid, how old do you think I am?”

“Thirty?”

“Thirty-six.”

The crowd presses them closer together as Indrid murmurs, “You don’t look it.”

“If we’re goin for personal questions, how old are you?”

“Oh, a bit older than yourself.” Indrid replies breezily, “ooh, look, rays!”

When the thermometer flashing in-between advertisements for Lady Gaga and The Osmonds cracks a hundred, Indrid ushers Duck to the indoor pool at their hotel. His new companion lounges in a reserved cabana while Duck soaks in the cool water, other swimmers floating past him or propping themselves on the edges to talk with their partners.

And every time he surfaces, he feels a red tinted gaze watching him. His new friend isn’t even trying to hide it, flat out ogles him whenever he’s in shallow water. Duck’s far from the youngest or most ripped guy here, but Indrid’s eyes never stray. It’s flattering.

It also makes sinking further into his role as easy as slipping into the deep end.

If the rich weirdo wants to buy him fancy shit because Duck is hot, he can knock himself out. It’s not like Duck has to fuck him. But teasing him might get him even more free drinks and expensive souvenirs. If he plays his cards right, he won’t pay for a single thing the rest of his trip.

He hops out of the pool, takes his time drying off and stretching before laying on his belly on the swanky deck chair, facing the opposite direction Indrid is to give the other man a better view of his ass.

“Where to next?” He tries for a purr and only succeeds at exaggerating his drawl.

Indrid’s smile widens all the same, “I have a few ideas. But let’s linger here a bit longer.”

After that he stays as close to the other man as he can, let’s their shoulders bump and fingers brush as they make the rounds for some pre-dinner drinks. He even whispers a flirtatious word or two, makes Indrid blush when he orders a drink called “silver fox,” looks him dead in the eyes and grins, “my favorite.”

He’s plenty tipsy when Indrid steers them into a hallway where bass shakes the floor and pink light disguises the cracks in the walls.

“Can’t say you’ve been to Vegas unless you’ve seen a little sin.” Is all the explanation given before the doors open on a two story strip club.

“Holy fuck.” Duck lets Indrid shepherd him to a stage where several men with abs that look painted on play at fucking the air, the stage, and each other, much to the delight of the two bachelorette parties and the single men dotting the audience.

“You’re a fuckin genius.” Duck growls, sitting when Indrid pushes down on his shoulder. The older man takes the seat to his left, watching the proceedings with polite detachment. He orders a cocktail for Duck and water for himself.

In spite of his apparent disinterest, the dancers all come to Indrid, one after the other. In theory, some of them should pass by Duck afterwards. But they all go right back to the stage or to other patrons. The few times one even looks at him, their eyes immediately slide away onto Indrid.

The fact the other man is handing out fifties and hundreds like they’re singles probably helps.

A tall brunette is currently in Indrid’s lap, and the silver-haired man whispers something and points at Duck.

Suddenly there is a very hot man in a glorified thong in his lap, who gives him a vaseline slick smile, “Your friend over there bought you a dance.”

Indrid waves, the movement grating on Ducks pride. He glares in response.

The older man calls “you looked lonely.”

“I don’t need your fuckin charity.”

Indrid cocks his head, then shrugs, “very well. Please come back here, for double the tip.” He holds up three hundred-dollar bills. The instant the dancer is out of his lap, Duck stands and stomps out, swaying more than when he came in.

The onset of evening has worsened the crowds. He slogs and weaves through them with every intention of getting back to his room, ordering room service, and bandaging his scraped ego

“Why so down, Duck?”

“Fuck! Jesus, let a guy walk in peace will you?” Duck snaps as Indrid falls into step beside him.

“We're on the strip, there's no peace here. No quiet either. Makes it easy to do what one wants.”

Cool fingers find Duck’s wrist, keeping him from breaking ahead to the crosswalk. As they stand and watch the cars and buses roar by, Indrid murmurs, “How about a little friendly game as an apology?”

“Better not be fuckin blackjack.”

“Nono, I’m thinking Poker. If you win, you win bragging rights and whatever else you like that I can give you. But if I win...you have to walk me back to my room. I’ll still buy all the drinks, of course.”

Neon glints off a fang Duck pretends not to see.

“Fuck it, sure. I'm gonna wipe the table with you, old man.”

“I look forward to it.”

In spite of Indrid making good on his promise of drinks, Duck only has one Whiskey Sour before switching to water; being full-on drunk would make him worse at Poker, something he’s complete crap at on the best days. Figures Indrid would choose a game where bluffing is key.”

His card shark of a companion is beating him, and everyone else at the table, soundly. He also declines any food or drinks for himself. After two hours of play and countless hands of defeat, Duck surrenders. Indrid preens, tips their dealer, and wishes everyone else at the table a good night.

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

“Why are we takin the stairs to the top floor?” Duck stares up the winding flights, unable to see their stopping point.

“It’s good for one’s health. And it’s, ah, far more private.”

“Why do you need privacy gettin to your room.”

The footsteps behind him stop as they reach the next landing.

“Simple. I'm hungry.”

Duck whirls just in time to catch Indrid as he lunges at him, fangs bared. It turns out to be a useless movement, the vampire trapping him in a corner effortlessly.

“What the fuck, fuckin let me go.” Duck hisses.

Indrid licks a fang with a thoughtful hum, “I can, though it comes with its own risks.” He sighs, put upon, “But you have been such pleasant company, I suppose it’s only fair to give you a choice. If you let me feed now, I shall be as gentle as I can be and only take a little. Or you can take your chances at outrunning me. However, should I still catch you, then I will take as much blood--and whatever else I like--as I please.” He brushes their noses together, “It’s up to you, sweet one.”

Duck takes a deep breath, the game fading while Indrid gives him time to decide how he wants to play.

Then Duck shoves Indrid away from him and bolts through the nearby door, running down the maze of corridors until he finds his salvation. Indrid’s laugh is still ringing in his ears when the elevator door finally closes.

When the ding announces his floor, he pokes his head out like a prairie dog watching for a hawk. No sign of the vampire. He comforts himself with that though, and with the fact that there’s no way Indrid could catch up to him now, as he click his keycard into the lock.

He shuts the door and reaches for the light switch.

Chilly fingers circle his wrist.

“I win.”

Duck is dragged, then carried, through the darkness, the light not clicking on until he’s tossed onto the bed. Indrid stands at his side, grinning hungrily.

“W-wait, fuck, please, I, how’d you-”

“Quiet.” Indrid tosses his jacket on the floor, straddles Duck with fangs unashamedly on display. Duck whimpers, tries to curl in and protect his throat. Indrid noses at it all the same, “don't worry you spoiled excuse for a man, it won't hurt too much.”

“‘Drid” Duck gasps, tipping his head automatically at the purr in the vampires voice.

Cool lips tenderly meet his own, “Indulge me a bit longer?’

“Hell yeah I will, sugar.” Out of habit, he guides Indrid’s glasses off and sets them out of crushing range, “Uh. Please, my dad is real fuckin wealthy, I'll pay you whatever you want?”

Indrid traces a sharp fingernail along Duck’s collarbone, “What I want is you. All those years getting what you demanded, not lifting a finger, you'll taste very rich.”

“Please don't kill me.” Duck can feel himself getting harder whenever teeth brush his skin.

The vampire cups his cheek, “Not a chance. I need to eat often, after all. And you're perfect to be my new pet. Spoiled, handsome, and no one will miss you.”

“Fuck you” Duck kicks weakly at Indrid’s ankle.

Indrid tuts, “Do I need to tie you down? I could hold you down easily, but I need my hands free to cover that sinful mouth and enjoy this lovely body while I feed.”

“N-no, no I’ll be good, I’llAAH!” His whole body tenses as fangs pierce his neck. He wants to cry out more but it’s perilous, might make him jerk away and tear the skin. But his body has to do something to release the tension, or the taught coils that replaced his muscles might snap and leave him in pieces.

He’s saved by a rush of pleasure melting every tendon, caressing every nerve into calm. Duck sinks into the bed, his body registering the suck of Indrid feeding but feeling no need to intervene. The vampires right hand creeps down to hold Duck’s left, his satisfied hum setting arousal buzzing in his chest.

Duck only realizes he’s been slowly grinding on Indrid’s slacks when the other man laughs, muffled and bloody. The vampire raises his head, lapping at the wounds so not a drop is wasted, “greedy boy. Even when you're dinner you think your pleasure deserves priority.”

“Please.” He wants his teeth in his neck forever, he wants his fingers and tongue between his legs every night.

Indrid kisses the wounds, sits up while daintily wiping his mouth with his shirt-sleeve, staining the starched white with red, “Delectable. Don't go anywhere, pet.”

“Not your fucking pet.” Wooziness pulls any teeth left in his tone, “and, and I thought you wanted me up here cause you were hungry. Now you ain’t. So, so I can go.”

“Oh no, that” he points to the marks on Duck’s neck, “was because I was hungry. The rest of tonight is happening because of your endless teasing.”

“I, uh, I don’t-” Duck turns bright pink.

“You were rather obvious. And silly me, indulging you because of your charms. Well, now it’s time to show me how grateful you are. Let me just slip into something a bit more comfortable.”

Indrid snaps his fingers. Reality gives a sickening crack. Then a mothman stands at the foot of the bed, feathers of soft browns rustling as he stretches his wings. He doesn’t have mandibles, but when he yawns it reveals rows of sharp teeth, the two where his human canines would be noticeably longer than the rest.

“Much better.”

Duck yelps, scrambles back into the headboard as Indrid dives onto the bed.

“Ah-ah” Indrid pins his arms and thighs to the bed with his four hands, “we had an agreement, little one. I get to do whatever I wish to you because you lost. And, more importantly” a long tongue drags up Duck’s cheek, “because that is how spoiled little humans earn their keep.”

“Oh god.” Is all Duck gets out before claws rip his shirt and shorts to colorful pieces. Indrid tips him sideways to finish mauling his shorts and pauses.

“What in the-” the vampire flips him onto his belly, stifles a giggle, “‘Bite me? Rather fitting underwear choice.”

“Thanks” Duck smirks into the blanket.

“Well, since I find myself incapable of denying you things, pet…” reality cracks once more.

“Wh-AHFUCK!” He yanks the nearest pillow over to muffle his cries as Indrid sinks his human fangs into the meat of Duck’s ass. It’s a different kind of pain, not as heart-pounding but just as fun. Indrid isn’t feeding, so he bites down only a few seconds before lifting his head to target another patch of skin. He doesn’t let up until Duck sobs his name into a silk pillow.

The vampire pulls back, but keeps Duck on his forearms and knees as he kisses a curve from his lower back to one of the innermost bite marks. Another shift and claws prick his legs.

“Mmmm, I can smell how turned on you are. I wonder….”

“Fuck, ohfuck” Duck pushes his hips back as Indrid’s tongue infurls down to tease his folds, “Indrid, please, please fuck me like that.”

“‘Ike ‘is?” The tongue presses in, thrusting lazily and without much pressure.

“Yes but, fuck, but more.”

A growl and Duck is slammed onto his back, Indrid looming over him with his wings outspread, “Have you forgotten the purpose of this evening?”

“No.” He stares up into red eyes, too turned on to be sheepish.

“Then why do you keep making demands? You have spent all day asking things of me and now it is time to show me why I tolerate such behavior.” He grabs Duck’s knees, holds them up and open with his lower arms, and purrs, “though there’s no denying your appeal from this angle.”

“Fuck yeah.” Duck fists the blanket in anticipation as Indrid adjusts them to put his head between the human’s legs. Indrid’s tongue caresses his dick, filling the room with slick, obscene sounds.

Then searing pain flashes through his left thigh as Indrid sinks the fangs of his form into it.

“FUCK! I, I thought, moths don’t-”

“Vampire moths do.” Indrid grins before smearing a line of red on Duck’s skin, “and I intend to drink my fill.”

Duck yelps again, slams a hand over his mouth when he remembers there’s two other suites on this floor.

“Be as loud as you like; I cast a little spell on this room to make sure no one hears what I’m doing to my new pet.” He thrusts his tongue into Duck without warning, fucking him on it until he’s bucking his hips, then pulling out to lap and suck at his thigh. When he next returns to sucking Duck’s dick, the feathers around his mouth are as red as his eyes.

Heat builds in Duck’s gut at the sight and he moans, “‘Drid, please, I’m so close to cummin just from this, please just let me cum.”

“Absolutely not.” Indrid drops his legs, dragging him into his lap with a hiss, “you have still not learned your lesson. You think you can get whatever you want just by looking sweetly at me. You’re so very wrong.” His upper arms trap Duck’s own behind his back while his lower set prick his hips, “now be a good pet and keep your legs open.”

Duck doesn’t get a chance to ask why; a cock, covered in vertical ridges with a very thick tip, shoves halfway into him.

“Mmmm, that’s lovely.” Indrid thrusts hurriedly, “now I remember why I put up with your demands all day. Spoiled though you may be, I’ve never had someone fit my cock so well. Ohhhhh” he opens his wings, grinning, “someone likes that.”

“Like you, fuck, Indrid, I swear I wasn’t, uh, wasn’t not teasing, no, fuck FUCKfuck” He takes as much as he can in one thrust, the last third still pulsing outside his body.

“Don’t lie, sweet human. I know you let me spoil you endlessly, teased me mercilessly all day, all while thinking you would spend your evening asleep and alone, rather than where you belong.”

Duck whimpers as his thighs fight to keep up the pace. They give out a moment later but nothing happens; Indrid’s grip on his hips is so strong he’s moving him without help.

“Fuck that’s so fuckin good.”

Indrid flutters his wings “You see how easily I control you, sweet one? You may be strong and handsome, but at the end of the day you’re nothing more than a toy for me to use and discard as I please.”

He whines at that, let’s himself go limp so it’s easier to hide his face in Indrid’s fluff.

“Don’t worry, pet, I shall not discard you. As I said, you are perfect for me, a lovely little gift to myself after a day spent giving them to you.” The hands restraining his arms let go and he instantly wraps them as far around the vampire as he can. Then clawed fingers gingerly stroke his dick. He groans out a thank you and Indrid laughs.

“Oh no, this isn’t for you. I just find that humans taste even better during orgasm.”

Any noise Duck makes in reply is drowned out in fluff and Indrids high, trilling moans as he sinks his teeth into his neck. Duck thrashes helplessly as his orgasm burns out his veins and muscles, leaving a melted man in its wake.

“Perfection” Indrid purrs, licking at the bite to close it as he grunts and pumps his hips, “my spoiled little human is finally worth something OHyesss, yes.” He holds a squirming Duck down on his cock as his spurts into him, the human unable to do anything but cling to him and moan his name.

A sweet voice lilts in Ducks ear, “if you ever forget what you’re for, or dare to tease me so again, I will strap you down in my lap and fill you until it sloshes.”

Duck nods to show he heard, but only gets through half the movement before wincing.

“Oh, oh dear, is the bite too big?”

“N-no, think, think it’s just real sore. You bit hard both times.”

“Let me look to be certain...yes, you’re right, the wounds are the usual size. Come, let’s get you in a bath at once.”

The next thing he knows, spindly arms lower him into the fancy jacuzzi. Indrid chirps over him, telling him how wonderful he is, how well he did, promising to fetch him anything he desires for dinner, all while bandaging the bigger marks and scrubbing blood from his chest. When the vampire is satisfied with his efforts, he takes his human form and joins Duck in the tub. The human immediately waves him into his lap and guides him into a kiss.

“Insatiable thing.” Indrid purrs, nuzzling his cheek.

“Damn right. And you love me for it.”

“That I do.”

[dramaticlester]

Miles of skin

summary: there’s so much dan loves, it’s hard to list it all

genre: fluff, 

warnings:swearing, sexual scenes (not too detailed), lots of body imagery

hair

When Dan was 18 and dreaming up his ideal partner, it never started with black, straight hair. It was usually blonde, maybe slightly ginger, and swept away from their face. his ideal man was a model. he thought of them stood on a beach, perhaps, their hair blowing in the wind. jaw strong and chiselled, Dan much smaller, nestled in their arms like a prize.

But Phil, he wasn’t like that. Phil had hair as black as anything, in a straight fringe across his forehead. he wasn’t a chiselled model, and he certainly wasn’t much taller than Dan. when he stood on the beach, he squinted and complained that his glasses were going to blow away, and took time to swipe his hair away from said glasses. Dan couldn’t stand nestled under his arm, more like the other way round. but Phil was special. As Dan got older, he realised that the perfect guy wasn’t perfect. His Phil wasn’t perfect, either. But he was the closest, he thinks, he could ever get. He didn’t want perfect, anymore, he wanted his Phil. His Phil with the stupid straight emo hair that, when he got older, started being pushed into a quiff. Phil looked sexy with a quiff.

eyes

Dan had never been one for beautiful eyes. he didn’t look into someone’s eyes and feel taken away by their colour, or shape, or size. when he was younger, he struggled to look into people’s eyes, anyway, preferring to cast his gaze between their eyebrows or down at the floor. he struggled to feel any connections and he certainly did not believe eyes could hold pain or happiness. he just didn’t believe it. he hated his own eyes, too. he hated their colour and the almond shape, his obnoxiously long eyelashes that curled into his eyes sometimes and hurt. but, then he met Phil.

it was when Dan saw a picture of Phil that he started to doubt his own intuition. you could go swimming in those eyes he thought. in fact, he commented it, right there on the very photo. the camera he used for YouTube did no justice. when they met, it was the first pair of eyes Dan could look straight into. the first pair he could see love brimming in, focused solely on him. Dan was elated. it was the first pair he saw the pain in, shown by shed tears as they hugged goodbye at the train station. it was the first he saw untainted happiness in when Dan agreed to move in with him after announcing he would be attending Manchester university. they were, undoubtedly, just eyes. but my god, they were the most beautiful pair Dan had ever seen. though, Phil.s favourite activity was to argue that Dan's were, in fact, the “most beautiful plus 1.”

lips

Dan always thought lips were just lips. he didn’t understand why he was so chapped, he didn’t understand why people got injections to plump them up, he didn’t understand at all. the only time he really concentrated on people’s lips was when he couldn’t be bothered listening to what they were saying, so he’d lip-read instead, albeit rather unsuccessfully. he never looked at someone and thought fuck, they should do something about that or wow I wish I could kiss them. well, until he met Phil, of course.

after he’d noticed Phil's eyes, his gaze wandered down to his lips. plump and inviting, pink and so smooth. Dan suddenly felt the need to apply five tubs of Vaseline. he stared at Phil’s lips the day they met, and not just to lip read. Phil didn’t really hint at much, but Dan saw how his lips curved into a smirk, obviously. they’d gotten on the Manchester eye, hands clasped between them. Dan thought he’d been subtle. Phil had bitten his lip, Dan had reciprocated without thinking. that’s when he was kissed. soft and gentle, unsure yet so passionately. it was wonderful, chapped against smooth. Dan reiterated his apologies for his chapped lips. Phil laughed and stroked his thumb along the bottom one, pulling it and watching it ping back into place. another gentle kiss. you’re perfect.

neck

Dan didn’t have a neck kink, he told himself, he just found it really fucking arousing when someone kissed his neck. or if he was indulging himself alone, or perhaps on Skype to Phil, he swiped his thumb along the side now and then, gasping at the spark of unadulterated pleasure. but he didn’t have a neck kink. Phil changed things for him, though.

the first time they made love was wonderful. Dan experienced things he’d never felt, just taking and taking from Phil's body, only able to emit the smallest gasps of love. Phil gave it all to him, never held back. he showed Dan what he’d been missing.

they were moulded together, one entity. Phil buried deep inside him, his head tugged into his neck as he whispered encouraging words. Dan’s eyes were squeezed shut, alleviating his senses most deliciously. that’s when Phil had whimpered against his neck, the blow of hot hair making Dan tip his head back and let out an almost scream. a quiet scream, no doubt. Phil had smirked, pulling back to look at Dan’s face (which was turning more crimson by the second.)

“you’re beautiful,” Phil had whispered, kissing the corner of Dan’s mouth before moving back to his neck. he started kissing at first, barely applying much pressure, revelling in the short intake of breath from Dan’s mouth. then he applied more pressure before he was nibbling at Dan’s neck, moving along until he found the place that made Dan tense up, letting out a shrill moan and a large breath of air. Phil kept at this spot, sucking and sucking until the mark bloomed up against the pale skin of Dan’s neck. 

Dan had come with a shout and then a whisper of Phil's name, Phil's mouth against his neck and his tip pressing against the most sensitive place inside of him. Dan vowed to never let anyone love him the way Phil did ever again.

shoulders

shoulders were never something Dan thought about. they usually resided underneath someone's clothes, occasionally flexing when the person lifted something or wrote. it was never anything special, nothing that made Dan want to strike up a conversation with a person or beg them to pin him down to a mattress. they were shoulders. 

when he met Phil, he noticed that Phil's shoulders were broad. they were the type of shoulders you would associate with a man, though stereotypical. when Dan hugged him for the first time, he allowed himself to notice the muscle under his shirt, allowing his hands to find a home on top of them when they pulled away, not-so-discretely squeezing. Phil was his boyfriend, his man. he was the one Dan cuddled up to, a hand placed over his heart, head bracketed between Phil's chin and his shoulders, loved and protected from the whole world. dan felt pretty damn undefeatable with his head nestled there. he was the one who let Dan throw his arms around his neck when he was happy or encased him when he cried or screamed. he was the one who used the strength within those shoulders and arms to carry Dan to bed when he fell asleep on the sofa. he was nothing less than the love of dance life and his shoulders, though minor, were strong. they were Dan’s favourite place to sleep and his favourite place to wake up. 

tummy

Phil always joked over messenger about actually having a dad bod hidden beneath the camera.

“id love you all the same,” Dan insisted every time, fondness twinkling in his eyes. Phil would smirk, leaning closer to the camera with his tongue caught between his teeth. Dan longed to be with him. 

when Dan saw the first full body picture of Phil, his jaw literally dropped. Phil was beautiful, Dan had known that even just from looking at his face, but seeing his whole body was something Dan kept locked in his mind all the time. Phil was hot. not just hot, but hot. he was something Dan would've never dreamed of because his mind wasn't capable of conjuring something so wonderful. Phil had sent it to him shyly, telling Dan to check his messages whilst they were on Skype. Dan had stared at the picture for too long, only remembering he was on a video call when he heard Phil cough. he looked up just in time to see Phil cast his eyes down, blushing and his lip pulled between his teeth.

“you're fucking beautiful, Phil Lester,” Dan had whimpered, tears in his eyes. “I want to be with you so bad right now.”

“what, you don't think I'm too fat, hm?” Phil had whispered. Dan suddenly realised all of his jokes, were actually issues. Dan had stared at the screen, not quite sure what to say, not quite sure how to articulate what a fucking masterpiece Phil Lester was.

“I say this with all the love I can muster,” Dan had said. “shut the fuck up.”

Phil had giggled, finally looking back at Dan.

“Phil, how’d I get so lucky?” Dan settled on, shaking his head in disbelief.

Phil had never needed to complain about his appearance after that, because every day, Dan told him he was beautiful.

to this day in 2020, Dan tells him he's beautiful. whether its when Dan wakes up first and watches Phil for a while before carding a hand through his hair and muttering a “you're pretty, Lester,” or whether it's after a shower when Phil's skin is dry and flaky, and he's squinting trying to see through the fog without his glasses (Dan will usually slip his glasses back on, kiss the tip of his nose, unravel the towel from around his waist, and drop to his knees. Phil doesn't need words at times like this.)

legs

growing up, Dan had always had little stumpy legs that kept him below shoulder height of everyone. people made jokes about how his little legs couldn’t keep up in the playground, or his mother would tell him his legs were too little to climb the trees, and the workers at the fair told him he could ride when he grew a few more inches. it was frustrating for Dan... well until he hit 14. it was as if overnight, he became a lanky 6-foot-something lad, who didn’t quite know how to control his long limbs, constantly carving his shin off the coffee table and walking into open doors because he couldn’t see them at eye level. Dan hated long legs. well... his own.

Phil was also 6-foot-something. if Dan thought he was tall when he met Phil he was the short one. he had to look up at Phil and when they hugged, Dan's head just about reached his shoulder. Dan loved to run his hands up and down Phil’s legs when they were lying together on the bed, Phil giggling and tugging at Dan’s fringe with a “get back up here.” Dan wasn’t sure what it was, but Phil’s legs set off some kind of primal, animalistic urge within him. he wanted to cover every inch with his lips, kiss and nip his shins till they were red, suck on his thighs and leave bruises that still wouldn’t be faded by the time he got back to Manchester. he loved to hang behind Phil so he could watch how his legs moved, long and lean as he took clumsy steps downstairs or long strides down the streets of London. he loved to watch Phil try to fold his legs up in the bathtub, insisting that they could both fit. even when Dan's legs length surpassed Phi’ls, he was never quite as mesmerised. Phil's favourite part of Dan's body was probably his thighs, as he spent most of his time caressing them and squeezing and kissing them, but Dan didn’t understand how he could love Dan's so much, but hate his own. it was something they could argue about though when they lay sated and naked, curled up together.

“I love your thighs,” Phil would mutter.

“Yeah, well, I love yours more,” Dan would grin, kissing the top of his head.

“in this essay, I will explain why yours are better...” Phil would joke. they never took it much further though, just silently knowing that they were right.

bum

Dan kind of understands this one. he wouldn’t date someone based off their ass, but it didn’t hurt to feel the appeal. Dan's own wasn’t too flat until he crammed it into his obnoxiously tight skinny jeans that pushed it down so much that it looked like nothing. he didn't mind though, anything for fashion. Phil would usually pout quite a bit though, pulling Dan forward by the belt loops and kissing him, trying to sneakily undo the button and tug them back down.

“looser ones,” Phil always murmured against Dan's lips, crossing his arms when Dan would roll his eyes at him.

“what do I do for you?” Dan would sigh dramatically, kicking them off and putting Phil's favourite pair on.

but Phil's ass was perfect. it was impossible to crush as, even when he’d wear a pair of Dan's jeans, it was still there. Dan usually always slapped his ass when he bent over as a joke, giggling as Phil would jump and whine “Dan!” Dan couldn’t help it though.

when they kissed, his hands usually started on the small of Phil’s back. ever since he’d grown, Phil’s go to was to stand on tippy toes so he could reach around Dan's neck, insisting it brought them closer together when Dan would complain that his back hurt. he was only joking really though, as this way, when it got heated, Dan could move his hands down over the curve of Phil's ass, pulling him closer to press flush against each other, or even grind their bodies together if things got especially heated. it was just a wonderful part of Phil that Dan loved so much (especially whenever he was big spoon at night time and he could feel it pushed up against his body)

everything

Before they met, Dan never appreciated the beauty of the human body. with Phil, he appreciated it. because contained within that body, was the most beautiful soul, the funniest personality and the most gentle, loving giant he’d ever known. It was the perfect body for Dan’s favourite person in the whole world. He wouldn’t change a thing about it, ever. from his brilliant blue eyes down to the tips of his toes, Phil was beautiful, inside and out. 

and Dan never tried to stop himself from falling deeper in love every day..

[hurt-care]

Shelter

This story was inspired by a prompt on Tumblr requesting a historic fic about a cold spreading through a home-front workplace during WWII. I ended up deciding to focus on just two young workers and specifically on air raid wardens, who were in charge of securing the streets during the blackouts in London when Britain was being bombed by the Nazis. I was also very inspired by this photo of a woman who was sick while in an air-raid shelter along with images of the shelters in the subway platforms. 

Shelter

By Dusty15 --

The ladies' boarding home where Miss Rowena Brier lived at 33A Easton Street was normally a rather cheerful and nice place to live. As with any place housing twelve young ladies, it was occasionally prone to waves of gossip and tearful arguments over young men and whispers of scandal, but most of the time it remained civil and sisterly. And with the war on, there was really no time for gossip. Every young woman in the house was employed by his Majesty's government in service to the Crown.

January in London was, as always, dismal and grey and frightfully cold. The boarding house echoed with the sounds of sniffles and the persistent coughs that came from months of damp and dust-filled air from the bombs and the winter drizzle that seemed to never end.

Though Rowena could be called to service in her job as an Air Raid warden, she'd miraculously been granted Sunday as her day off and it could not have come at a better time. That was because she ended up spending her Sunday in bed, taken ill with a stuffy head and chest.

“Can I bring you back anything?” her roommate, Tamara, asked as she applied her lipstick at the vanity in preparation for Sunday tea downstairs.

“A cup of tea and a biscuit would be swell,” Rowena replied gratefully. “The tea Mrs. Burnside makes always tastes better than the stuff we make up here with the hotplate.”

“Will do, love,” Tamara confirmed, shutting her compact with a 'snap!'.

“Take one of our teacups down, won't you?” Rowena asked. “The last thing she will allow is one of her good china cups disappearing upstairs.”

“Good thinking,” replied Tamara, picking up one of the mugs they kept on the sideboard in their room that served as a kitchenette of sorts. “I'll be back after tea. Do get some rest. Shall I shut out the light?”

“Please do,” Rowena said.

Tamara pressed the switch-button at the door, turning off the overhead light, and left the room. In her single bed, Rowena snuggled down under the covers and tried to rest with a hot water bottle between her feet and a handkerchief clutched in one hand.

Sleep, it seemed, simply would not come. Sitting up, Rowena reached out to turn on the bedside lamp and swung her legs out from under the quilt, finding her slippers with her toes.

With her housecoat on and her cosmetics bag in hand, she went down the hallway to the communal washroom shared with several other rooms on the floor. She was relieved to find it empty, for once. The rest of the house was either at tea or at work. She paused in front of the mirror, examining her pink-tinted nose and chapped lips. She was due to work the next day and finding someone to take her shift would be difficult. Instead, she'd have to muddle through and make the best of it.

Digging in her cosmetics bag, she searched for her small tube of eucalypted Vaseline and dispensed a small ribbon on her fingertip. Gingerly, she spread it around the edges of her chapped nose and upper lip. It burned slightly, but she could feel the vapours beginning to loosen her congestion a little and so she inhaled as best she could through her nostrils.

One pocket of congestion shifted and cleared, sending the pungent scent of the eucalyptus straight to her sensitive airway. Rowena's breath hitched suddenly and she shielded her nose with her handkerchief.

Ngh'tschoo!

With a miserable sniffle, she cleared her nose and gave it a wipe. At this rate, she'd need to launder her handkerchiefs or borrow a few from Tamara to take to work.

From her bag, she took her cold creme and went about her routine of smoothing it into her cheeks and under her eyes. Then, filling a water glass, she took some medicine and returned to her room to try to sleep once more.

It was not long before Tamara returned and she sat at the end of Rowena's bedside while Rowena drank the hot cup of tea. They chatted idly about the gossip of the boarding house and boys and work and the war until Rowena began to feel her eyes drooping with the heavy pull of sleep.

“I need to get some rest,” she told Tamara. “I'm due in tomorrow and I can't miss my shift. We've been so short-staffed and everyone's been taken ill lately.”

“At least you don't start until late in the day,” Tamara replied. “I'm due at the factory early. I'll try not to wake you in the morning.”

--

Rowena slept straight through the night, waking to only a little stuffiness and a slight tickle to her throat. Tamara was lone gone to her job at the factory and Rowena spent a leisurely afternoon in her room, drinking tea and listening to the wireless while she worked on a pair of socks she'd been knitting.

After a light supper, she gathered her coat, gas mask, and helmet and headed out for the walk to the nearby Underground station where she'd meet up with her patrol partner for the evening.

As an air raid warden, her job required a patrol of the local neighbourhood, watching for any leaks of light or forgotten lamps burning in the windows of homes in her area. Should the raid sirens sound, she would turn her attention to relocating any persons in the street to the nearest shelters before taking up shelter herself. When all was clear, she'd be the first out of the bunker to check for any damage and to report any fires to the local fire brigade.

The streets were damp and dim as she began her walk. A spare handkerchief was tucked into her coat pocket for inevitable future use along with a small tin of lozenges. Hugging her arms against herself, she trudged onward, eyes scanning the block for any traces of light.

Waiting at the Underground was the welcome sight of William Pierce, looking smart in a wool overcoat and scarf.

“Good evening, Miss Brier,” he greeted her.

Rowena grinned and returned the greeting. Will Pierce was a son of the neighbourhood, someone everyone seemed to have known since he was a boy. Though Rowena had only moved to the area a few years prior, Will had spent his whole life in these eight city blocks where they patrolled and his knowledge of the buildings and streets made him an excellent warden.

The war had enlisted every able man in the country but unfortunately, a bout with polio had left Will with a pronounced limp that disqualified him from service. Instead, he'd taken up this patrol job and it suited him immensely.

“Shall we, then?” he asked, slinging his gas mask over his shoulder and putting his helmet over his thick chestnut-brown hair.

Rowena followed, carefully scanning her side of the street as they walked. They chatted casually, exchanging pleasantries with the few pedestrians they encountered on their patrol as they headed home from work in the dark winter evening. Will loped along at her side with his uneven gait, cheerfully waving to folks and chattering away about a letter his family had received from his brother from the French front.

The unpleasant sting of her cold had returned to Rowena's nose and she began to sniffle softly, trying to keep it to a minimum. Somewhere along their fourth patrol block, she paused and quickly removed the gloves from her hands, searching her pocket for her handkerchief.

Her fingers closed around it just in time and she raised it to her nose, pitching forward slightly with a soft sneeze.

Eh-TSCHII!

Will paused and turned, waiting for her to catch up.

“Bless you!” he said as she reached his side, still tending to her nose with the small cloth. “Not catching ill, I hope?”

“Recovering, actually,” Rowena said, pinching her nose one final time before tucking her handkerchief away. “I was in bed all day Sunday. I was thankful to have the evening off.”

“Lucky you,” he replied. “I could hear our neighbour, poor Mrs. Carson, up half of last night. It seems like there's an awful lot of cold and flu going around.”

“It's this awful damp,” she said, keeping pace as they walked. “I don't think I've felt properly warm in weeks.”

“We have the unfortunate pleasure of living in England, I must inform you,” William teased. “You may never feel warmth again.”

She laughed and gave him a gentle push.

“Don't say that!” she said. “Spring will come soon enough.”

“I hear Hitler is trying to thieve that away too,” William replied. He pointed up at a window where a sliver of light shone. “If we want to see spring again, we ought to have them put out that light.”

Rowena knocked on the door and after much shouting and knocking, a bleary-eyed man answered, apologetic. He'd fallen asleep with the lamp burning and hadn't drawn the curtains. With the error corrected, Rowena and Will continued their patrol.

With an hour left to go in their shift, Rowena was starting to feel herself fade. She toyed with the handkerchief in her pocket, keeping it ready within reach as her breath became more laboured.

“I'm sorry, I need to stop for a moment,” she finally confessed to Will. “Excuse me.”

She withdrew the cloth and turned away to blow her nose a few times to clear it. As she did so, she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Are you okay?” Will asked.

She smiled wanly.

“You're very sweet,” she said, feeling herself blush. “Yes, I'm quite alright. Just tired and cold. Mostly it's the cold.”

“Here,” he said, unwinding his scarf from his neck. He draped it around her shoulders. It was warm where it had been tucked against his skin. He knotted it tight against her throat.

“Thank you,” she said gratefully. “I should have brought my own.”

“It's colder than I expected too,” he confessed, checking his watch. “We only have an hour to go. I can do it alone if you want to get inside. We're just around the corner from your flat.”

Rowena opened her mouth to protest but was stopped in her tracks by an impending sneeze that quickly had her cupping her hands over her face.

Eh-TGShhnt!

“I think that answers things,” Will said.

“Oh, I shouldn't,” she insisted, dabbing at her nose.

“It's only an hour and a few blocks. I'll be fine. Go.”

He walked her down the street and around the corner to the boarding house, insisting again that she leave him and go to bed.

Relenting, Rowena reached up to remove his scarf.

“Keep it for now,” he said. “You can return it later. Get inside and warm.”

With a cheery wave, he headed down the dark street and Rowena scaled the front steps to the boarding house door. With trembling hands, she unlocked it and went inside, eager for the warmth of her little shared room.

“Who's scarf is that?” Tamara asked, looking up from the book she was reading in bed when Rowena entered the room. “You look frozen straight through.”

“I am,” Rowena said, sniffling. “And it belongs to Will Pierce.”

“Ooh, the handsome gimp,” Tamara giggled.

“That's not very kind. He's quite nimble for someone with a limp.”

“Nimble and handsome.”

“Anyway, it's his and he lent it to me. I'll return it on our next shift together. I need a hot shower and my bed or this cold is going to come back with a vengeance,” Rowena replied.

--

A few days later, Rowena was back to her full health but the icy damp grip of winter still had a hold on London. She was scheduled to patrol alongside another young woman named Catherine Watson, but she wore Will's scarf just in case they came across him during their rounds.

At ten o'clock, as they passed Fletcher Street, the sharp trill of the air raid siren rang out. Rowena felt her heart leap into her throat as people began to spill out of their homes, rushing to the nearby Underground entrance.

“Quickly and orderly, please!” she shouted, snapping into Warden mode. “Bring your masks and emergency packs!”

She separated from Catherine, taking up her post on the corner, ushering families down the steps into the cavernous subway station. The siren was nearly deafening, but she continued to shout commands over it, helping to organize a group to carry a baby carriage down the steep steps and making sure young children were holding the hand of an adult as the crowd grew larger.

As quickly as the people came, the rush slowed again and Rowena guided the last stragglers downstairs as the roar of airplanes began to rush overhead. People were settling into neat rows along the platform, huddling together with family and neighbours. Someone began to pass around tins of biscuits to calm crying children and several families laid out blankets to make cots for little ones to sleep.

Rowena lowered herself onto the tracks and began to walk the length of the station with a torch shining to light her way. Several hanging lanterns lit the platforms but the station was still eerily dark. She checked with the familiar faces of her patrol route, ensuring that each person had their gas mask and passing out spares to those who had been out in the streets without them when the sirens sounded.

After about an hour, the station had settled into a quiet murmur as many people stretched out on the platform to try to sleep despite the frequent sirens and loud explosions outside, not to mention the damp and cold interior of the subway. A few spare blankets were rationed out to the young, elderly, and ill, but many people who didn't bring emergency kits were simply huddled under their coats.

Rowena quietly walked further down the tunnel, moving her torch slowly, keeping an eye out for Catherine so that she could check in with a report. As she rounded a corner in the track, she saw a person with an air warden helmet leaning against the side of the track but it wasn't Catherine; it was Will Pierce.

She hurried forward, happy to see a friendly face in the dark.

“Will!” she said, reaching his side. “I'm glad to see you; I have your scarf!”

She reached to pull it out from under the collar of her coat.

“No, keep it,” he said. “It's damp down here.”

His voice was softer than normal and a little hoarse.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“I think you may have passed along your cold,” he admitted, smiling at her sheepishly as he looked up from under the brim of his hat. With his face now in the light, she could see dark shadows under his eyes and a flush to his cheeks.

Before Rowena could say anything, there was a loud explosion outside that shook the walls of the station and set the hanging pendant lights of the subway platform swinging. From down further in the tunnel, there was a frightened cry and the sound of something falling.

“Come on,” Will said, starting off down the tunnel. Rowena followed, quickly passing him as she hurried towards the noise.

In the dim light further down the tunnel around a bend, she saw a woman crouched with two young children. A small patch of concrete and plaster had given way and fallen nearby.

“Are you alright?” Rowena asked, shining her torch at them.

“Yes,” the woman replied. “Just frightened. It missed us.”

“Come back down to the platform where it's more secure,” Rowena instructed. “I know it's crowded, but it's safer.”

She turned as the woman and her family gathered their things. Will was nowhere to be seen. Concerned, she headed back around the corner, hurrying when she heard the sound of coughs.

Will was bent over, leaning against the subway wall, coughing with an unpleasant rattling sound.

She pulled his scarf from around her neck and circled it around his, tucking it against his chest. The coughs were slowing now but he was breathing heavily, snuffling and wheezing for air.

“Did you bring your kit?” she asked, looking around for the backpack they each usually carried that held an emergency blanket and rations.

“I gave it to someone else,” he said. “They had kids.”

“Okay,” she replied, trying to think of what to do. “Come with me.”

She took his arm, steadying him as he limped down the track at her side, breath rattling noisily in his lungs as he struggled along. They made it back to an area where she'd stowed some spare emergency supplies.

“Can you get back up to the platform?” she asked.

He nodded and swung his bad leg up, straining to pull himself level with the platform. When he finally rolled up over the edge, he was panting and coughing from the effort. Rowena swung herself up and sat at his side.

“Shhh,” she said, bending him forward over his knees so he sat with his legs danging over the side of the tracks. “Slow breaths.”

She rubbed a circle on his back, trying to help him regain his breath. Then, his back shuddered and suddenly expanded outward with a gasping inhalation. He pitched forward, sneezing harshly.

Hurh-TSGHGHH! Nhh-GHSHHT!

“Bless you!” she said. “Sit here and I'll be right back.”

Hurrying down the platform, zig-zagging among the hundreds of people reclining on the floor, she found a supply box and unlocked it, digging through the contents for her pack and some spare supplies.

“What are you looking for?” a voice asked. Catherine was walking from the opposite direction, torch in hand.

“Oh good,” Rowena exclaimed. “I wasn't sure where you'd gone to. Will Pierce was on patrol down at the other end but he's awfully sick and I'm trying to find a blanket and mask.”

“There's spare masks in a box in there,” Catherine confirmed. “I'll get a blanket.”

Rowena finally located the box of flu masks under a stack of gas masks and tugged one from the package. Catherine returned with two blue wool blankets.

“Ta, Catherine,” Rowena replied, taking the supplies. “We're just down by the pillar over there. I'll try to get him settled and then go back to rounds but I'm not sure how long I'll be.”

“I think we're mostly settled in for the night, baring any major incidents,” said Catherine. “So take your time.”

Rowena returned to find William occupied with a rumpled handkerchief held to his nose.

“I found some things,” she said. “This first.”

She spread one of the wool blankets open and draped it over his shoulders.

“And this,” she added, holding out the flu mask. “No more spreading it around. I should have known better myself, but down here it's mandatory.”

“Right,” Will said wearily, taking the mask with the hand not occupied by the handkerchief. He gave his nose a final blow and set the cloth aside. Moving slowly, he took off his helmet and went about the motions of securing the mask over his face.

Without the hat on, Will's thick brown hair was visibly plastered against his brow with sweat and Rowena got her first clear view of his face. His normally bright green eyes were glassy and drooping from lack of sleep.

“Let's get you settled in,” she said, spreading the second blanket on the ground.

“Settled in?”

“Yes, settled in,” she repeated. “You're certainly in no state for anything else.”

“I appreciate the concern, but it's just a cold. You went on patrol yourself with one.”

“But I was recovering and you are definitely not.”

“Still,” Will said, struggling to his feet and letting the blanket drop from his shoulders. “There's plenty to do and I've survived worse.”

He bent over to fold up the blankets and took them in his arms.

“I'll go see if I can find some people who need these more.”

“William...” Rowena said, exasperated.

“You can come with me if you like,” he said, looking back at her. From the crinkle around his eyes, she could tell he was smiling behind the crisp white flu mask.

With a sigh, she hurried off behind him, catching up easily with his uneven gait.

They walked the platform in a mutual quiet, interrupted only by William's occasional sniffles and coughs. He paused to offer one of his blankets to a shivering teenager who'd given up her own coat to a younger sibling and they both stopped to talk to an older couple who needed some water for taking medications. The second blanket went to a pregnant mother sitting with a sleeping toddler on her lap.

Their patrol continued down the tunnel towards the end of the platform. William was starting to lag a little behind and by the time they reached the terminal wall, he was trailing by several paces.

“Other side?” Rowena asked, sitting down on the platform edge so she could climb down onto the tracks.

“Just a moment,” William requested, digging in his pocket. He pulled out his handkerchief and awkwardly pushed his flu mask up to access his nose. He wiped around his drippy nostrils and across his top lip, cleaning up residual congestion. The raw, angry red skin of his nose glowed more fiercely with each wipe and Rowena cringed sympathetically.

“Are you certain you don't want a break?” she asked.

“No, I'll manage,” William confirmed, tucking the handkerchief away and readjusting his mask. With an unsteady movement, he joined Rowena at the platform's edge and dropped down to the tracks, nearly losing his footing as his bad leg took the weight of the jump. Rowena caught his arm, steadying him, and he gave her a grateful nod. They helped each other up and over the edge on the opposite side and continued their rounds.

“How about an evening tea service?” William asked with a glance at his wristwatch as they reached a nearby tunnel that branched off to another connecting station. Several supply carts were waiting with large tea carafes and sleeves of paper cups.

“I think that's a splendid idea,” Rowena agreed. “It's damp down here. I think it would be appreciated.”

“I'll see if I can round up some water,” William offered, lifting one of the large silver carafes and starting off with it in the direction of a water connection. Rowena went about setting up the cart with cups and a few boxes of biscuits.

She heard William's return before she saw him. The sound of coughing echoed off the subway tiles along the tunnel and into the station. She rounded the corner to find him struggling along with the full carafe.

“I've got it,” she said, taking hold of one side.

He shook his head, continuing to move forward, but he could not talk without interruption from his increasingly urgent coughs.

“I'll take it,” a civilian man offered, coming forward to help.

“It goes just there on the cart,” Rowena indicated, pointing towards the supply carriage. The man took the carafe and moved off while Rowena took hold of William's shoulder.

He pulled at his flu mask, tugging it off his face and shielding his coughs with his tented hands instead.

“You sound dreadful,” Rowena sympathized.

“Nothing a cup of tea won't fix,” William rasped between coughs. “Just got myself a bit overexerted with the carafe there.”

“Tea fixes many things, but I don't think it fixes that,” Rowena replied. “I can manage the service. Go find a spot to rest.”

“I'm fine,” William insisted, once again. He tugged his mask back up and clapped his hands together cheerfully. “Where do we start?”

“I'll just set the water to brew. Do you want to go find Catherine and ring the bell? I expect we'll get quite a line.”

She filled a mesh strainer with tea leaves and set it to brew in the large silver pot while William set off to alert the shelter residents to the tea service. A few moments later, a small bell chimed and a line of weary civilians began to form.

William came back with Catherine and another two tins of biscuit rations. Together, the three took turns passing out cups and plates to the assembled crowded and ushering people along the line for tea and a snack.

As they passed out the drinks, another explosion went off outside. Several people jumped, but everyone remained calm except for the nervous cries of a few children. With the offer of a biscuit, however, most of them were quieted quickly.

Sometime on what felt like her hundredth cup passed over, Rowena noticed that William was no longer in his spot by the biscuits. She glanced over her shoulder towards the tunnel, craning her neck over the crowd of people sipping their tea and chattering together

William's thick brown hair was just visible over the crowd for a moment before it disappeared from sight.

“Are you okay here alone?” Rowena asked Catherine.

“Yes,” Catherine replied, handing over more paper cups to an eager family. “Stay as long as you need and try to see if he'll rest. He sounds horrid.”

“I know,” Rowena said with a sigh. “I've been trying.”

She pushed her way through the crowd, stopping to get a blanket from the emergency stores. She came down the passage to a small bend in the tunnel where William was tucked against the wall, caught in the throws of a sneezing fit.

His head was bobbing with each stifled outburst as he kept his nose pinched through his mask. He caught her watching and shook his head like a horse tossing off flies before snapping forward once more.

Ngh-GHT! T'gXHT! Ng'GHT! 'GHT!

“Don't keep them in,” Rowena said, digging a fresh handkerchief from out of her pack and gently guiding it into Will's hand. “You'll burst your ears.”

William shoved his mask down and clamped the clean cloth over his nose, but the sneezes seemed to temporarily cease. But not, evidently, the irritation. He groaned audibly and pressed the cloth harder, wriggling the offending organ and pinching at his nostrils.

“Christ,” he murmured, eyes half closed and mouth open in a state of constant anticipation.

Suddenly, he was back in action again, head snapping forward and eyes clenched shut.

Eh-GHSHHHT!

“Bless you!” Rowena exclaimed. “You're going to lie down before you fall over. Here, I have a blanket.”

Heh-SGHTT!

Will sneezed again and followed it with a wet nose blow.

“I think I'll just sit up against the wall,” he said wearily from behind the handkerchief, sitting down on the ground. “Easier to breathe.”

Rowena hesitated, thinking about Catherine's offer for her to stay as long as necessary.

“That won't get you any proper rest,” she said. “I'll keep you upright.”

She spread a blanket on the ground, sat down at the end, and patted her lap.

Slowly, William stretched out, settling his head tentatively on her thigh.

“That's better,” she said cheerfully, trying to boost his spirits. “Now try to get some sleep. By the looks of you, you need it.”

“I didn't sleep well last evening,” he admitted.

She had half a mind to chide him for coming to work ill but seeing as she'd done basically the same thing, she kept her mouth shut. In her lap, William closed his eyes and lay still for only a moment before she felt him shift.

He reached up, cupping his nose with his hands.

Hehh-TSGHTT!

His head lifted briefly from her leg with the force of the sneeze before falling back down. He reached for his handkerchief and covered his nose with it before the second sneeze.

Hurh-GSHHTTT!

“Bless you,” Rowena said sympathetically.

“That's why I didn't get much sleep,” he grumbled, tugging the mask back over his nose and keeping the handkerchief balled up in his hand.

Outside, there was another explosion and the lights flickered in the station.

“I suspect it may be another night of little sleep,” she said, reaching down and idly stroking his hair away from his forehead. He felt worryingly warm to her touch.

“I hope not,” Will said. His face flexed as he yawned widely behind the mask. “If I'm being honest, I can barely keep my eyes open.”

“Then don't try to,” Rowena replied. “Enough chatter. Get some sleep.”

He let himself relax in her lap, soon going heavy and limp with sleep. The roar of airplanes and the whir of sirens kept sounding overhead, but Will slept on.

After a half-hour, Rowena's leg began to feel numb. Carefully, she eased Will's head to the ground and went off in search of Catherine.

She was quickly occupied with the task of putting away the finished tea service. All the while, Will lay sleeping a short distance away.

When she was digging in her pack for a small square of chocolate to help allay the fears of a little crying child, she heard William begin to cough.

Handing over the sweetie to the child's mother, she gathered her things and hurried over to find him half-sitting and wrestling to get the flu mask from his face.

Hurh-TSCGHHH!

He sneezed with a miserably congested sound directly into the mask and continued to paw at his face, trying to get the cotton ties undone from around the back of his head.

“Here, let me,” Rowena offered, carefully untying the mask. Will clamped his handkerchief over his nose as soon as it was uncovered and wiped it aggressively.

He blew his nose several times, shyly turning away from Rowena's view as he did so. Each honk was more and more futile, unable to clear any congestion and only serving to make him more red-faced and sweaty. It was clear from the flush of his cheeks that the fever still held its grip.

Rowena checked the dial of her watch; it was nearly one in the morning now.

Will sat with his head held in one hand, breathing raggedly.

“How can I help?” Rowena asked softly.

“Water?” he replied in a gravelly voice. She went to retrieve her canteen and brought it back to him, unscrewing the lid and handing it over.

He drank thirstily, gulping water down his parched and aching throat. When he finished, he leaned half-reclined against a pillar and closed his eyes.

Rowena reached out and gently pressed a hand to his brow. The fever was definitely still there.

“I know,” Will said, leaning into her touch ever-so slightly. “Not good.”

“I'll get a compress,” she said.

“No,” he murmured, words slurred by sleepiness and congestion. “'m cold.”

“I'll make sure it isn't too cold,” she assured him.

“Stay,” he pleaded, eyes drooping closed.

There was no denying that request. She guided his head back down into her lap and tucked the blankets over him.

Gently, she stroked his hair back from his warm brow and combed her fingers through his thick hair. He drifted back to sleep; the weight of him was heavy on her legs but she shifted slightly to adjust the burden and tucked the blankets closer around him.

Sometime around 5am, after her own period of fitful sleep, a siren signaled the all-clear. William stirred, groaning as he strugged to sit up. Rowena, stiff from a night of leaning against the cold subway tiles, helped him with her own groan of discomfort.

“Feeling any better?” she asked.

William didn't answer. He was distractedly searching for his handkerchief in his pocket and he found it in time to catch two messy-sounding sneezes.

Hrhh-TSGHHHH! Ngh-GHSHTTT!

“I guess not,” Rowena concluded sympathetically.

“No,” William admitted, sounding more congested and hoarse than before.

“The all-clear is out. I need to go do a sweep.”

“I'll come,” William said. “I could do with getting out of the damp.”

“It's five in the morning in England,” Rowena said exhasteratedly. “It'll be just as damp up there. Stay where it's warmer and you'll get out with the rest of the lot. It shouldn't be long.”

He reached for his helmet.

“It'll be longer if you're short-staffed and my flat is on the route. You can hand me off to my mum and be finished with my whinging.”

Rowena felt herself smile.

“Your whinging? I don't think I've ever seen a more cheerful ill person before, if I'm being honest.”

They gathered their packs, stopping to let William blow his nose a few times, and headed up the station steps to the outside.

The early morning light was dim, barely illuminating the empty streets. All the lamps were out, of course, thanks to the manditory blackouts. This was the part Rowena hated the most; the utter silence after an air-raid.

At the far end of the street, a building was crumbled and smoking. Several other wardens were already at the scene, combing the debris for unexploded bombs and any victims. They waved Rowena and William onward.

William's family flat wasn't far from the station, but he was visibly weaker and his limp was more apparent when he was fatigued. The sound of his breath rattled as he trudged along at Rowena's side.

“You need to stop,” she said finally, as they reached the corner of his block. He was nearly gasping for breath, unable to breathe through his nose and fighting the congestion in his lungs for each inhalation. William sank down to sit on some nearby steps and put his arms on his knees, bending forward to cough deeply. Rowena put a hand on his back, rubbing it comfortingly.

Ngh-TSGHXHT!

He shuddered with a congested, thick sneeze. He'd abandoned the flu mask at the station and was armed with his handkerchief alone now. He wiped his nose and sighed with a rattling breath. Without the mask on, the angry red tint of his nostrils and his chapped lips made him look more pitiful than before.

“I bet your own bed and a hot water bottle will be the best comfort you can imagine,” Rowena remarked.

Will smiled a little.

“I should think so,” he said. “But you've been a stellar nurse, Ro. Really.”

She felt herself blush.

“I don't mean to be forward,” he said, pausing between words to clear his throat. “But when I'm well again, I hope you'll let me take you to dinner and the cinema. To thank you.”

“Oh,” Rowena heard herself say. “Maybe.”

They fell silent, sitting on the steps in the early morning dewy air.

“Stupid, daft girl...” Rowena thought to herself. “Maybe?! Of course you'd like that.”

She mustered up her courage and leaned over, placing a chaste kiss on his cheek.

“I mean,” she said. “I'd like that very much.”

Will smiled and his fevered cheeks flushed redder still.

“Good,” he said. “I would like that t-tehh...tsh-GHGSHTT!”

He was interupted by yet another sneeze.

“Bless you!” Rowena exclaimed. “Let's get you home and out of this damp air.”

“I think that'd a good idea,” said Will, voice muffled by the handkerchief now clamped to his nose. He gave a sharp, ineffective blow and balled up the cloth in his fist. He stood unsteadily and gripped the railing for support. Rowena curled an arm around his waist and together they walked the final block to his family flat.

“Here we are,” he said, stopping in front of a brick rowhouse. He stood, twisting his handkerchief in his hands, shyly unsure of how to properly thank her.

“I hope you feel better soon,” she said. “Don't hurry back to work. Ring my place when you're well again and we'll go to that picture.”

“I will,” he said. He tentitively reached out a hand and took hers, giving it a squeeze. “I'd kiss you, but I don't want to make you ill again.”

She blushed and squeezed his hand back.

“You can save that for the cinema too,” she replied.

He grinned and let her hand go, turning to make his way slowly up the stairs into the house.

“Be safe,” he said as he turned back to wave from the doorway.

“Be well, she replied, turning and heading back down the block. He watched her go.

Inside, he was greeted by his mother and sister, both recently returned from the shelter in the back garden. One look at him and his mother sent him straight up to his bedroom where he was set up with a spoonful of cough syrup and a hot water bottle and a fresh cup of hot tea.

As he settled in to the single bed, he closed his eyes and imagined himself back in her arms, settled comfortably in her lap.

Three days later, he'd ring her and hear the giggles of the other girls at her boarding house when he asked to speak with her. A year later, when they marry in a quiet ceremony at the city courthouse, still in the middle of a war, he presses an embroidered handkerchief with the date of the air-raid on it into her palm as a wedding gift and she laughs merrily at the sentiment.

[wildcatfitnessuk]

Discovering a path less travelled with Off The Eaten Path and Two Blondes Walking

Fun fact about me that most people don’t realise – I’m actually from the countryside. The constant takeaway coffee in hand, innate knowledge of most bus routes in West London and shellac manicure every fortnight without fail may have you fooled, but I grew up and spent the first 18 years of my life deep in the Cornish countryside. So when brand new healthy snack range Off The Eaten Path invited me on a guided walk in Sussex with qualified walk leaders Two Blondes Walking I couldn’t lace up my trainers and pack my rucksack fast enough! However it has been a while since I’ve been properly out in the countryside, so I was extremely grateful for all the useful information and tips the ladies shared with me – which in turn I am delighted to be sharing with you.

As you know, I am a huge fan of healthy snacks that can be easily enjoyed on the go – whether walking in the countryside or down Oxford Street – and Off The Eaten Path fit the bill perfectly! These new snacks provide a source of fibre, contain no artificial colours or preservatives, and are made from ingredients such as rice, green peas, pinto beans and white beans. Every snack is then seasoned with either simple sea salt, sour cream and cracked black pepper, or caramelised onion and balsamic vinegar flavouring – so far my favourite flavour is Sea Salt, but they���re all pretty damn good! The snacks were created for those who prefer to discover the path less travelled, which is why the partnership with blogging duo Two Blondes Walking makes total sense. Their love for the great outdoors combined with uncovering new and undiscovered hiking routes, makes them the perfect partner for Off The Eaten Path.

Two Blondes Walking comments: “Our mission is to get as many people as possible, especially women, out enjoying the outdoors. Adventure and challenge is good for the soul – and where better to find both than in the UK’s wild and wonderful, green spaces.

“As such, we’re delighted to have teamed up with Off The Eaten Path – and we’re very much looking forward to encouraging women (and men) to get exploring and finding those paths less travelled. With this in mind, we have created a series of hiking hacks to get you started as well as some of our favourite walking spots in the UK. What’s stopping you?!” 

The Two Blondes Walking took us on a route they had researched and pre-planned in the village of Balcombe in Sussex. The walk took in footpaths, woodland, fields and even a stunning lake. It reminded me how lucky we are to have so many amazing places like this literally on our doorstep here in the UK, yet we so rarely appreciate it or take advantage. It took me just over an hour from London to get to our starting point for the walk, and within moments of setting off I was deep in the forest, using only my Ordinance Survey map to guide me…. well, maybe a little bit of help from Two Blondes Walking too. They even taught me how to use a compass! And I know what you’re thinking, duh Wildcat there’s a compass on your phone – only when there’s signal and you have some battery left – which you might not deep in the countryside! So whilst they may be a long forgotten art, I for one was very pleased to go over these skills because you genuinely never know when you might actually need them.

So what other tips did Two Blondes Walking share with me? Lucky for you I have all ten tips right here!

Always take a rucksack. You don’t need a huge one – just a nice small, compact day sack (about 30l) which ideally has a waterproof cover so you can keep all your wares nice and dry.

It may not seem like much, but a whistle could well be your best friend. If you’re stuck in the great outdoors and need help, using a whistle will work better than shouting – and the frequency is more likely to be heard by rescue dogs.

Layer, layer, layer. It might look warm and sunny before you set out – but the weather can change before you know it, so make sure you dress appropriately. We always wear layers – as not only does it mean you can strip off if it gets warm, but it also means you can layer up should it take a turn for the worse – and it’s the layers which trap air to keep you warm. We recommend merino wool, fleece or synthetic layers over cotton t-shirts as they can stay wet and keep you chilly.

It goes without saying that you’ll need a map… But to keep it looking good as new (and easy to read), why not laminate it before you go – that way it will stay nice and fresh and it won’t even matter if it does get wet!

Believe it or not, you can still get sun burned in the UK. And while you should always wear SPF, don’t forget to pack protection for your lips too – all too often we forget about them and there’s nothing worse than sore, chapped lips.

Staying hydrated is super important – but when the weather is warm, you don’t want to be quenching your thirst with tepid water! We suggest freezing your water the night before your walk so it melts as you walk for a refreshing hit while you’re out and about. And make sure you take purification tablets with you in case you run out of supplies, so you can fill up from rivers or streams.

A long-distance walk can burn a lot of calories and running low on energy can impair your ability to keep warm and make sensible decisions. Always carry enough food for your outing plus emergency snacks. Off The Eaten Path vegetable crisps made with real vegetables such as rice, green peas, pinto beans and white beans, are the ideal snack while you are out and about. Plus, they’re pretty tasty too!

A first-aid kit is a must, even on short hikes. But if you’re also prone to blisters, always wear two pairs of socks and smear Vaseline on those troublesome spots you know tend to rub. Hopefully, this will help keep blisters at bay!

We always take a Bothy Bag with us when out walking. Not only is it great for a rainy picnic but it’s an actual storm shelter and in the unlikely event of being stuck out in the open when the weather takes a turn for the worse, it provides an amazing amount of warmth with two people inside them.

Finally, remember to have fun! Hiking is a chance for you to enjoy the great outdoors and also spend some quality time with your girlfriends. In our opinion, there is no better time to have a gossip and giggle with your best friend than when you are out and about.

Believe it or not, despite the lack of coffee places, nail bars and shoe shops, I actually loved getting out in nature and walking – and even more unbelievable was that I didn’t have the need or even the urge to look at my phone whilst I was out on the walk. I’d strongly encourage you guys to do the same – disconnect even for an hour, plan a route and just get moving out in the great British countryside. You could even make a mini-break of it – after our walk I stayed at the beautiful Ockenden Manor and Spa – check out my YouTube video of this gorgeous country spa hotel which was the perfect place to relax after walking.

So what are you waiting for? Time to get planning a route, dig out your walking shoes, grab your bestie and make sure you pack some Off The Eaten Path to keep you fuelled on your walk-  they’re available now from leading retailers including Sainsbury’s, WHSmith and Ocado.

The post Discovering a path less travelled with Off The Eaten Path and Two Blondes Walking appeared first on Wildcat Fitness.

from Discovering a path less travelled with Off The Eaten Path and Two Blondes Walking

[wildcatfitnessuk]

Discovering a path less travelled with Off The Eaten Path and Two Blondes Walking

Fun fact about me that most people don’t realise – I’m actually from the countryside. The constant takeaway coffee in hand, innate knowledge of most bus routes in West London and shellac manicure every fortnight without fail may have you fooled, but I grew up and spent the first 18 years of my life deep in the Cornish countryside. So when brand new healthy snack range Off The Eaten Path invited me on a guided walk in Sussex with qualified walk leaders Two Blondes Walking I couldn’t lace up my trainers and pack my rucksack fast enough! However it has been a while since I’ve been properly out in the countryside, so I was extremely grateful for all the useful information and tips the ladies shared with me – which in turn I am delighted to be sharing with you.

As you know, I am a huge fan of healthy snacks that can be easily enjoyed on the go – whether walking in the countryside or down Oxford Street – and Off The Eaten Path fit the bill perfectly! These new snacks provide a source of fibre, contain no artificial colours or preservatives, and are made from ingredients such as rice, green peas, pinto beans and white beans. Every snack is then seasoned with either simple sea salt, sour cream and cracked black pepper, or caramelised onion and balsamic vinegar flavouring – so far my favourite flavour is Sea Salt, but they’re all pretty damn good! The snacks were created for those who prefer to discover the path less travelled, which is why the partnership with blogging duo Two Blondes Walking makes total sense. Their love for the great outdoors combined with uncovering new and undiscovered hiking routes, makes them the perfect partner for Off The Eaten Path.

Two Blondes Walking comments: “Our mission is to get as many people as possible, especially women, out enjoying the outdoors. Adventure and challenge is good for the soul – and where better to find both than in the UK’s wild and wonderful, green spaces.

“As such, we’re delighted to have teamed up with Off The Eaten Path – and we’re very much looking forward to encouraging women (and men) to get exploring and finding those paths less travelled. With this in mind, we have created a series of hiking hacks to get you started as well as some of our favourite walking spots in the UK. What’s stopping you?!” 

The Two Blondes Walking took us on a route they had researched and pre-planned in the village of Balcombe in Sussex. The walk took in footpaths, woodland, fields and even a stunning lake. It reminded me how lucky we are to have so many amazing places like this literally on our doorstep here in the UK, yet we so rarely appreciate it or take advantage. It took me just over an hour from London to get to our starting point for the walk, and within moments of setting off I was deep in the forest, using only my Ordinance Survey map to guide me…. well, maybe a little bit of help from Two Blondes Walking too. They even taught me how to use a compass! And I know what you’re thinking, duh Wildcat there’s a compass on your phone – only when there’s signal and you have some battery left – which you might not deep in the countryside! So whilst they may be a long forgotten art, I for one was very pleased to go over these skills because you genuinely never know when you might actually need them.

So what other tips did Two Blondes Walking share with me? Lucky for you I have all ten tips right here!

Always take a rucksack. You don’t need a huge one – just a nice small, compact day sack (about 30l) which ideally has a waterproof cover so you can keep all your wares nice and dry.

It may not seem like much, but a whistle could well be your best friend. If you’re stuck in the great outdoors and need help, using a whistle will work better than shouting – and the frequency is more likely to be heard by rescue dogs.

Layer, layer, layer. It might look warm and sunny before you set out – but the weather can change before you know it, so make sure you dress appropriately. We always wear layers – as not only does it mean you can strip off if it gets warm, but it also means you can layer up should it take a turn for the worse – and it’s the layers which trap air to keep you warm. We recommend merino wool, fleece or synthetic layers over cotton t-shirts as they can stay wet and keep you chilly.

It goes without saying that you’ll need a map… But to keep it looking good as new (and easy to read), why not laminate it before you go – that way it will stay nice and fresh and it won’t even matter if it does get wet!

Believe it or not, you can still get sun burned in the UK. And while you should always wear SPF, don’t forget to pack protection for your lips too – all too often we forget about them and there’s nothing worse than sore, chapped lips.

Staying hydrated is super important – but when the weather is warm, you don’t want to be quenching your thirst with tepid water! We suggest freezing your water the night before your walk so it melts as you walk for a refreshing hit while you’re out and about. And make sure you take purification tablets with you in case you run out of supplies, so you can fill up from rivers or streams.

A long-distance walk can burn a lot of calories and running low on energy can impair your ability to keep warm and make sensible decisions. Always carry enough food for your outing plus emergency snacks. Off The Eaten Path vegetable crisps made with real vegetables such as rice, green peas, pinto beans and white beans, are the ideal snack while you are out and about. Plus, they’re pretty tasty too!

A first-aid kit is a must, even on short hikes. But if you’re also prone to blisters, always wear two pairs of socks and smear Vaseline on those troublesome spots you know tend to rub. Hopefully, this will help keep blisters at bay!

We always take a Bothy Bag with us when out walking. Not only is it great for a rainy picnic but it’s an actual storm shelter and in the unlikely event of being stuck out in the open when the weather takes a turn for the worse, it provides an amazing amount of warmth with two people inside them.

Finally, remember to have fun! Hiking is a chance for you to enjoy the great outdoors and also spend some quality time with your girlfriends. In our opinion, there is no better time to have a gossip and giggle with your best friend than when you are out and about.

Believe it or not, despite the lack of coffee places, nail bars and shoe shops, I actually loved getting out in nature and walking – and even more unbelievable was that I didn’t have the need or even the urge to look at my phone whilst I was out on the walk. I’d strongly encourage you guys to do the same – disconnect even for an hour, plan a route and just get moving out in the great British countryside. You could even make a mini-break of it – after our walk I stayed at the beautiful Ockenden Manor and Spa – check out my YouTube video of this gorgeous country spa hotel which was the perfect place to relax after walking.

So what are you waiting for? Time to get planning a route, dig out your walking shoes, grab your bestie and make sure you pack some Off The Eaten Path to keep you fuelled on your walk-  they’re available now from leading retailers including Sainsbury’s, WHSmith and Ocado.

The post Discovering a path less travelled with Off The Eaten Path and Two Blondes Walking appeared first on Wildcat Fitness.

from Discovering a path less travelled with Off The Eaten Path and Two Blondes Walking