#can you brush fingertips lightly in a drawing room to avoid people watching? yes

[hpowellsmith]

NOBLESSE OBLIGE is due to launch August 25 - wishlist on Steam!

Spark romance amid secrets in a crumbling mansion! What will you sacrifice for love? Can you trust your own heart?

Noblesse Oblige: a Crème de la Crème Adventure is a 137,000-word interactive Gothic romance novella, a standalone story in the Crème de la Crème universe.

On a windswept island, far from the mild shores of Westerlin, stands the estate that is your new home. You have been hired to work as a conversation partner for a lonely aristocrat. It is a profitable opportunity, and your impoverished upbringing and middling university education leave you few others.

But secrets lurk in every darkened corridor, and nothing is what it seems. Why does your young charge go wandering in the middle of the night, haunted and mourning? What is in the letters that the charming new secretary constantly writes? Why is your employer so intent on keeping outsiders from prying into the family’s business?

Attend grand balls, ride through fast-paced fox hunts, spend jovial evenings with the servants, teach diligent lessons to your charge, and observe - or take part in - this northern land’s religious rituals. Meanwhile, there are webs of deceit for you to unravel, and deep mysteries to explore. When you reach the end, will you bring justice to those who deserve it, or keep their secrets buried forever?

And, of course, there is love: midnight trysts, stolen moments, and sweet warmth amid the cold. Your job on this remote island has just begun: will you work hard for a secure future or abandon everything to follow your heart?

[barnesand]

the scent of old stories [ ii ]

Summary: You haven’t found your thing here in Brooklyn, but you hope that you’ve found it within the bookstore that happens to be on your work commute. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader AU: *chants* bookshop au, bookshop au, bookshop au. Warnings: No warnings for now! author’s note: we have one cameo for this story so far, but hey, we’re back in the bookstore and the pining shall commence.

chapter one can be found here: x

You thought that your tedious workload would drown out the reminiscing thoughts of yesterday, but you were wrong. Despite having your hands full with at least ten toddlers that were all vying for your attention (Jess needed you to look at her blue clay creation, despite you having no actual clue what it was supposed to be), you mind still found its way back the Second Hand. Working at a day care center is usually all-consuming—you couldn’t think of the last time you found yourself blinking away thoughts, not when there were so many things happening all at once.

Not that the children you cared for were the embodiment of chaos. But you had to pay attention to them—they were toddlers.

Your encounter with Bucky was three days ago. And in those three days, your mind still plagued you with a looping thought: why haven’t you gone back? Your mind was very correct in questioning your avoidance of the store. There was no point to it—clearly, Bucky was flirting with you. You might have lost your ability to return flirtatious remarks, because of reasons, but there was no denying that fact. Bucky wanted you to come back, to get that list of his favorite haunts. And, maybe, he would tag along on a few of those locations.

Ninety percent of your brain was scolding you about it, while the remaining ten percent remained on the fence about it. You know—good old denial: because what if he wasn’t?

You wouldn’t call yourself outright pathetic for believing what the ten percent had to say, but you were disappointed in yourself. Disappointed that you couldn’t give in and just do it—you did, after all, make a deal to return. Bucky had given you a free book, and that free book had come with a condition, and you had to honor it. What kind of person would you be—what kind of bibliophile would you be—if you didn’t honor it? But because you still quaked at the idea of returning, and because you feared that you would become a sputtering mess once again, you wouldn’t.

You’d considered gaining an outside perspective—but you didn’t really know your coworkers well enough. You spoke to them about several things, of course, but you hadn’t delved into the personal topics yet. You also humored the idea of calling your mother—but you really didn’t need to go down that wormhole of call. She’d find your indecisive thoughts a hint that you secretly wanted to come back home and you didn’t want to have an argument over that again.

By now, your ten toddlers have been corralled by another associate into quiet time—and for a brief second you considered asking your kids if you should go back to the pretty man at the bookstore. No—no, that’s too complicated of a story to tell and their track record with opinions wasn’t doing so well for you.

Your quiet dilemma would remain that—a quiet one.

In the last hours of your shift, you tried to occupy your mind as much as possible. The toddlers kept in your care must have noticed the keen focus you developed, because they seemed more chaotic than usual. By the end of it, they were nearly tired out as their parents picked them up. Once the last child was picked up, you quickly cleaned up the mess they’d made. Indeed, you did manage to lose track of those plaguing thoughts, but the moment you were alone they returned as loud as ever. You pressed your head to the too-small crafting table and let out a meager sigh.

“Do I go?” You said out loud, tapping your forehead once more—you wanted to knock the solution out of your head, but it wasn’t really working.

“Go where?”

You didn’t move from your position entirely, instead only shifting your head to the side to find one of your coworkers in the doorway to the playroom. Joaquin Torres was one of the coworkers you’d considered telling about your current situations. He was nice—well, nearly everyone who worked with you seemed nice, but he felt genuinely nice. He didn’t enter the room entirely, instead leaning the top half of his body inward. Almost as if he didn’t want to impose on your moment. You lifted your head, pulling yourself up from your crouching position to stand.

“Um,” you started. You straightened your clothes, re-tucking your shirt into your slacks. “Well—there’s this bookstore on the way home, and I don’t know if I should go back.”

“You like books, don’t you? Seems like an easy yes.” He joked, bringing himself into the room.

Oh, you wished it were an easy decision for you. The laugh that left you was short, slightly strained. Your hands settled on your hips.

“One would think that.” You nibbled at the inside of your cheek. “But the owner is really cute. And I think he’s expressed interest in me. I—yeah, I’m usually not like this around men but he’s really cute.”

He nodded. You couldn’t believe it was that easy to talk to him about it—geez, you should have mentioned it to him days ago. Even if he wasn’t responding right away, but you could see the contemplation in the furrow of his brow and that was enough. If Joaquin could just make that decision for you, all the weight you’ve been carrying on your shoulders would be lifted easily. Come to your rescue, please. Joaquin put his hands on his hips and gave yet another nod.

“You should probably stock up on kids’ books. It looks like they took a few.” He pointed to the bookshelf behind you—which, to your knowledge, was fuller than it usually was. But… you got the point. “Does this bookstore carry children’s books.”

Your heart was sputtering along, like the little engine that could. The only problem was that you don’t think you can. But you’ve already decided that you would follow Joaquin’s choice. If that meant that you would have to go to the Second Hand on your way home from work—for children’s books—then that was simply what you had to do. And if you saw Bucky instead of his employee, then that was just a bonus. Your sputtering heart could handle it; you think.

“Then,” you said, drawing in a deep sigh. “I will go grab some more books.”

You didn’t expect for the mid-September chill to creep in so quickly, but you wound up clutching your reefer coat closer to your body as you walked down the street. The small shop sign above the Second Hand grew closer, and your hands were already clammy at the idea of seeing him again. You already resigned to following Joaquin’s plan, that your intentions for coming in were for the kids only, but your body reacted otherwise. You’d stopped in front of the insurance agency, drawing in a deep breath to steel your nerves.

It didn’t work, but it was worth a shot.

A minute passed before you practically shoved yourself forward, scampering past the first window and through the door. The bell sang above you, and only the heads of other patrons perked up at the sound of it. To you, that felt like a good sign. Maybe he would become too occupied by the other people in the store to notice that you came back. You didn’t see any signs of Bucky, but you did find the aisle for children on the first floor, and you quickly made your way to the section.

It was colorful to say the least, and despite the fullness of the shelves it was surprisingly well organized. When it came to children’s books, though, you always veered toward the colorful ones. You crouched down, your fingers gliding across the thin spines of the books. The titles didn’t directly jump out at you, but then again, your mind was occupied, and you were constantly side glancing at the end of the aisles. But crouching on your knees, especially after a long day, proved taxing and you quickly moved to sit cross-legged on the floor. You did have three books picked out so far.

You heard the familiar thrum of Alpine’s purring behind you, and soon felt the feline brushing up against your back. You looked over your head, already smiling at the sight of them. How rude you were to not consider seeing Alpine again when you were stressing over the initial decision. Of course, you missed them, and their spine that was practically begging to be pet. But when you reached for them, they moved out of the way, only to come back. You shook your head, lightly laughing beneath your breath.

“What a tease,” you whisper, bending down.

You managed to rest a single fingertip beneath Alpine’s chin, scratching softly until the purring was so loud it could be a beacon to other cats. Your smiling was beaming, and you dared to scratch behind their ear.

You saw him move in a blur past your aisle, a massive stack of books in his arms—arms that were surprisingly thick and strained against the fabric of his Henley shirt. You would have paused the attention you were giving Alpine, but they absolutely refused to let you stop. And you didn’t have any time to move to a different aisle before Bucky reversed and filled the end of the aisle.

He wasted no time when it came to showing you that smile that made you swoon—almost, but your cheeks did feel warmer. You did smile back, hand still on Alpine.

“Hi,” you said first.

“Look who showed up,” Bucky responded with a short laugh. “Lemme put these books down, Reader. Hang on.”

As exhilarating as it was to watch him hold all those books, which caused your stomach to become all fluttery, you nodded in response. Were you always into arms? You’d assumed you were more into asses, but maybe you were wrong—it could just be all of him. Either way, he disappeared for a moment, and you quickly stole a breath for yourself. You considered standing up, but your legs felt as heavy as cement at the thought of it and you merely set the children’s books on one of the shelves and put your hands in your lap.

When Bucky came back, he had a folded papers in his hand and in one swift movement settled on to the floor beside you, his back pressed to the bookshelf you were facing. The three days you spent avoiding must’ve erased your memory of his appearance because pretty didn’t seem to cut it anymore. Your skin felt hot, your eyes tracing along the sharpness of his jawline, and your mouth practically watering at the pinkness of his soft lips. You were in way too deep, and, again, you were suddenly so concerned about Bucky noticing it.

He eyed you, the light from the fluorescents catching the cerulean of his irises so well. Like crystal clear waters.

He cleared his throat, unfolding the papers in his hand and from what you could tell he put too much effort into the list. Your eyes widened and you choked on a snort.

“Okay, uh,” you stammered for words. “That’s a lot.”

“I told you it would be extensive,” he chortled. “You’ve spent months here and you’ve only gone to the Brooklyn Bridge? It’s offensive.”

“I’ve gone to Coney Island!” You defended yourself. You leaned in, a momentary lapse in judgement. You eyed the list. “Which you’ve put on the list, by the way.”

“It’s for the experience.” He pointed beneath it, and you saw that he’d scribbled bullet points between each attraction he wanted you to see. “Two Coney dogs and then the Cyclone.”

You already found your mind filtering through the imagery of you on the Cyclone, knuckles blanched white as you gripped the handlebars for dear life. That wasn’t the issue, but instead the issue that arose from Bucky’s experience was the future candid photo immortalizing you vomiting the hot dogs you would have ingested beforehand. The hidden cameras on theme park rides always captured the worst moment, and for all you knew, that’s what Bucky was hoping for.

“You put thought into this list,” you commended him. “And you don’t even know me.”

A lot more thought than you’d initially anticipated; it would have made more sense if he simply told you a couple of places to visit. But to make at least two pages worth of locations and hidden spots for someone he’d only met once made no sense to you—that level of detail was better used one someone he knew.

He drew in a hiss of air, shoulders lifting in exaggeration before he seemed to settle on his next thought before glancing down at the list that now saw neatly in your lap. The tip of his tongue slipped out between his lips, swiping at the corner of his mouth—a habit you’ve come to notice, in the two times you’ve seen him.

“What better way to get to know each other than by doing the things on my list.”

You might as well resign yourself to this fate; it wasn’t as if you were going to be outright tortured by him (torture, fortunately, was nowhere to be found on his list). No, the fear that bubbled up your throat was purely at the idea that after all of this Bucky might realize that making such an extensive list may have been wasted on you. You weren’t boring, but you sedentary life had created a barrier between you and uninhibited fun. All those years at grad school where you buckled down to work on your degree had muffled that ability have fun.

But you wanted to get to know him. You wanted to know about the store, and how it came to be. There were other things—other things that made your cheeks redden and mouth water—that you wanted to know as well, but those would be better kept to yourself.

Finally, after much quiet thought, you nodded at him.

“We did have a deal.” You waved the list in the air. “So what are we doing first?”

He smiled widened, and you lost your breath when he moved to pat your thigh with a metallic hand. “Attagirl, Reader.”

[lovestrucked-again]

Delirium III | Mafia

Summary: After being kidnapped and claimed by the notorious mafia leader, he offers you a 7 day period where you’ll be given the option after of staying or leaving. Until then, you’re stuck, whether you like it or not.

Pairing: Mafia leader X female reader Word count: 2.4k

Genre & Warning: SMUT, fingering, Explicit content, mafia gang, possessive, toxic, yandere like personality, public scenes, humiliation, multiple orgasms, rough, orgasm denial, begging, orgasm control, praise, teasing, use of sex objects vagina balls and straps

Please don’t read this if you’re uncomfortable. A very obvious statement but this series is purely fictional, it is unacceptable in real life and should not be taken lightly.

Prev | Next

Day 2

You stand in the shower for a long time, the water spraying over your body as you try to clear your mind.

You can still feel him inside you, taste his lips against yours, feel the hardness of the egg vibrating at an intense speed and your breasts ached where he had squeezed them so roughly. You look down at your body, the pink marks still evidently left behind on your skin.

You grab the little sponge hanging off the shower handle, scrubbing your body aggressively, washing away all the thoughts and remains. You turn the hot water back on and your skin glows red, leaving harsh marks. You pull the showerhead from its position and shove it between your legs, attempting to wash away all the dried cum but your knees buckle. A dizzy wave of arousal and need slamming through your body as the water pressure splashes onto your sensitive clit. You fall against the wall, dropping the showerhead to the side in surprise.

Why do I still want him? You sit with your knees up in the corner of the shower and your mind continues to drift away, thinking about everything that had happened, the gyrating showerhead splashing water over you.

The soft knock followed by a voice pulls you out of your thoughts when you hear him through the closed bathroom door. “Baby are you okay in there?”

“I-I’m okay!” You call out in surprise, quickly getting back to your feet. While you’re busy fumbling with the water pressure, you’re unable to pick up the sound of the door creaking open. Taeyong enters quietly, quickly disrobing himself of his clothes to join you.

“Can I come in?” You let out a little squeal in surprise as he pokes his head through the shower curtain, an innocent smile on his lips. Your mouth parts slightly, glancing over his naked figure as you move to the wall opposite the shower head, your hands covering your breasts in embarrassment.

It’s an uncomfortable silence for you, your eyes avoiding his gaze only to stare at the shower curtain. Taeyong however, seems oblivious to your awkward state, absorbed in his own comfort, lightly humming to a song that's unknown to you, his hands brushing through his drenched hair.

“Why are you hiding yourself?” He asks, stepping out of the water, his eyes not leaving your face.

“I’m not I j-just” you stutter out, your hands still crossed around your chest.

“You’re beautiful you know?” He mumbles out randomly, your cheeks turning a blush red at the sudden compliment. He takes a step closer to you, your head tilting up to keep his gaze as the height difference becomes more obvious.

His hands find their way to your hips, gently resting at your sides as he leans forward, kissing your collar softly. His fingers softly wrapped around your waist in exquisite care. The longing reawakens in you as your eyes close and your legs part, ever so slightly, that even your unaware of your actions. He trails up your neck, careful not to leave any visible marks before he reaches your lips. Your arms reaching around his neck as you bring your body closer to his so you finally touch.

Taeyong’s careful not to let you dive in to your lust, drawing himself back with a soft kiss before anything continues.

“I’ll be leaving first.” He whispers against your lips.

With the soft kiss lingering on your lips, he reaches for the towel, stepping out onto the bath mat and dries himself. He pulls the shower curtain shut behind him so you’re left alone, your fingertips tracing over where he kissed. Why is he teasing me?

Finally, you switch off the water and reach for the towel, drying yourself off. The connected door to the ensuite bathroom left open, allowing you to see inside the room. Taeyong is bare apart from his boxers already pulled up. He smiles at you as you walk out the bathroom, keeping the towel wrapped tightly around your body.

“We’re going out” He tells you, throwing on a plain set of clothes before he hands you your folded shirt, bra and skirt from the night before, but no panties.

“Where are we going?” You ask, turning to face the wall as you slip them on, the towel falling to the ground.

“You’ll see.”  He waits till you’re dressed, leading you by your hand. You make no protest as he guides you to sit on the edge of the bed before he turns around, busying himself rummaging in the bedside draw.

He opens the draw, pulling out two wide, black rubber straps. He comes back to face you, lifting your skirt up so your exposed pussy is in front of his face. He seems unbothered by the fact of your arousal, the scent covering the room as he buckles them around your upper thighs. You watch him in shock, unable to process what the item is as it’s locked around you.

“There,” he moves away, playing with the fine silver chain wrapped around his neck, the key pendant falling to his chest. Your eyes wander down at the straps, noticing the row of short metal spikes facing inwards.

“What is this?” You stutter out, your hands reaching between your legs to feel the sharpness.

“These will encourage you to sit properly,”

You move your legs inwards, drawing them together before screaming. The spikes digging into the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh. Taeyong lets out a soft chuckle, “if you try to sit with your legs closed, that happens.”

He reaches back into the draw, producing two large, silver metal balls that chime musically as he plays with them in his hand. He walks back over to you, crouching down at the end of the bed where you sit. He nudges your knees open a bit wider as you watch in fear, your stomach turning in a lusting excitement despite seeing the unfamiliar objects.

His hands approach your pussy, “Let’s just open you up and..” with a hard push, he shoves both balls into you.

You yelp in surprise, the sudden intrusion forcing you to close your legs tightly. However, your momentary forgotten memory leads you to cry out again, flinging your legs apart when the spikes press into your skin.

“Taeyong!” You scream out, clutching onto his arm as he’s about to move back.

“Yes baby?”

“What is this?” You whimper, keeping your legs spread apart on the bed, your skirt riding up to your waist.

“We’re going to do some training.”

“Training?”

“They’ll help you strengthen your pelvic muscles.”

“Taeyong this is uncomfortable.” You whimper, attempting to sit in a position to take the silver balls out yourself.

His voice comes out stern and there’s a low warning to it, “Y/N.” You look back up at him, his eyes turning back into the menacing glare he held before. You groan in frustration, not wanting to see his dark (moody) side come out again. He offers a hand to you, “Try standing up.”

As soon as your feet touch the ground, they glide out of you, your insides unable to hold the sudden weight. The balls land on the ground with a soft thud, your muscles free of the heaviness. Taeyong leans down to pick them up, his hands getting wet with your juices from the ball.

“Hold on to it baby.” He murmurs, driving the two balls back into you. His fingers thrust up inside you, pushing the balls all the way to your hilt and you moan in pleasure. He leaves them inside and removes his fingers, a wet plop coming out your pussy.

You stand still for a minute, holding onto the weight, but as soon as you breathe, it falls.

“I can’t” you sigh out, letting them drop.

“You can.” He ensures you. He picks them up again and plunges them back into you, your pussy sucking them in, “Focus on the weight.” You clench your wall around the objects, holding them within in you with everything you can. You take a step forward, focusing on keeping the tension inside your pussy, maintaining the weight of the object. “You’ve got it baby.”

He gives you a tender kiss in appraisal, leading you slowly to the bedroom door. “I’ll take them out as soon as we eat something.”

You sigh, giving in, that won’t take long.

“Taeyong I need my undies.” You remind him, hoping the fabric will help you keep the balls from falling out.

“I don't have them.”

“What do you mean you don't have them? The ones from yesterday? I don't care if they’re dirty.” You tell him, preferring anything over nothing.

“Baby we’re going like this.” He smiles, interlocking your hand in his as he drags you out the bedroom door, taking you with no underwear.

“Wh-what if they fall out?!” You scream, your pussy involuntarily producing more liquid at the thought of someone seeing.

“Well I guess you just have to keep them in.”

*** Taeyong purposefully chooses a small café just a few streets across his apartment. Wanting to watch you walk there instead of driving anywhere. Your hand clasped in his as you keep your gaze low, embarrassed at the way your strides feel unnatural and clumsy. Your legs held apart to avoid the pain of the spikes.

Your walls clenching around the silver balls to prevent them from falling. Every step felt like torment, the balls pressing and chiming within you as you hold your gasps and whimpers as you walk. You close your eyes, trusting him to guide you in your oblivious surroundings as you concentrate on walking, one foot in front of the other. With each footfall, the pleasure of the balls hitting against your spots warring inside you, and you were terrified of losing control. In the streets of a busy afternoon full of people.

“We’re here baby.”

Your eyes fly open, the Welcome sign hanging on a glass door in front of your eyes. Taeyong opens the door, pushing it inwards, the gentle music from the café becoming distinct. He leads you to an empty booth, quite close to the entrance and you take a seat. Your quiet yelp coming back when the prick of small spikes bite into your skin, forcing you to spread your legs again.

“Good girl, stay right here. I’ll be right back.”

Taeyong disappears to order food, returning with a table number. Instead of sitting across from you, he nudges you over, scooting you closer to the wall, and he sits beside you.

“Why are you sitting ov-” Your question’s cut short as his fingers climb your skin, creeping underneath the short skirt you’re wearing. A sharp contraction forming inside you as you grit your teeth, trying to force your breathe back.

“What were you saying?” His hand climbs higher up your thigh, reaching the lips of your pussy. “You’re so wet.” He murmurs, leaning over to whisper in your ear. You grab onto his wrist underneath the table trying to guide him away.

“Taeyong not here please,” you whimper, your eyes darting around all the people. The musical chimes hitting against each other as you wriggle in your seat. Surely someone could hear them.

His hand creeps closer, his fingers parting your lip as you let go of his wrist, your legs spreading open more at the contact of his touch. You let out a muffled moan, your hand flying to your mouth in attempt to cover your voice.

“Let’s see how wet you are.” He purrs, spreading your lips apart, his finger forcing itself into you, pushing the balls around in circles, touching all your walls. Your hips grind against his fingers, using your hands to hold your weight as you lower yourself further on his fingers. Your body moves up and down as your legs part further, Taeyong focused on your expression as your eyes squeeze shut.

Taeyong plays around with the balls, moving them from side to side so they massage your insides.

“Faster.” You moan softly.

“A stir fried rice and beef?” a man’s voice says.

Your eyes quickly flicker open, taking a glimpse of the intruder in the middle of your high. The momentum of Taeyong’s fingers thrusting into you not slowing down.

“Yes.” Taeyong replies, motioning to the table with his spare hand. Taeyong slips a third finger inside your pussy and you can feel yourself pulsing, your walls contracting around his digits.

“I-I’m sorry but is everything okay.” The poor guy stutters out, directing his question to you as your body is grinding against the booth, your eyes shut, hand covering your mouth as you try and avoid anyone’s eyes.

“Perfect thank you.” Taeyong responds, his thumb reaching your clit and pressing on it with a jarring pressure.

This time you can’t help but let out a louder moan as you finally reach your orgasm, your other hand quickly slapping over your mouth in an attempt to cover it.

“Miss?”

“I said we’re fine.” Taeyong repeats, fed up with the guy whose intruding on his business.

The guy looks at your distorted face, clearly not able to figure out the situation as you ride on his fingers, climbing your high in the middle of lunch. “Please let me know if you need anything else.”

Taeyong sends him an eye roll as the server disappears behind the kitchen curtain, finally leaving you in peace.

“Baby are you trying to get caught?” Taeyong whispers against your ear, his fingers still pushing the balls inside of you. Wave after wave of raw, carnal ecstasy crashing over you as you moan into your hand. Your walls clenching hard around the objects inside you as you reach your high.

“O-Fuck!” You squeal out, forgetting about your surroundings.

People turn around towards you as you close around the objects, hard. In a flash, it peaks and disappears. People around you staring, children whispering, men smiling, women sending hostile looks as you wrap your arms tightly around yourself.

“Did that feel good, little slut?” He smirks, pulling his fingers away as your left panting on the seat, feeling like the balls inside you are swimming in a pool of liquid.

“Taeyong I want to go home.” You whimper out, your body exhausted, face flushed and your pussy drenched.

He brings his fingers to his lips, a trail of cum following on his tip, sucking them clean. “Sure baby, let’s go.” ____

A/N: Also need to proofread. Anyway please feel free to leave any feedback. 😌

[deathnotesecretexchange]

moonshine

From: @cat-soda

To: @anakien

Prompt: For Mello/Near, a story where they’re undercover at a bar and start tailing someone outside. To prevent themselves from being spotted, cue make out in an alley.

Word Count: 1623

Additional Tags: mentioned rape, mention/implied human trafficking, (nothing happens to anyone dw), alcohol & drug mention, rated T for Tons of sexual Tension, Meronia

  The bar is a hole-in-the-wall kind of nightclub, with sticky countertops and stickier glasses, and strobe lights that flicker and flash across the room in random intervals. People move together in a sweaty mass in the center of the dance floor; Mello leans over and mutters “Wanna dance?” into Near’s ear just to snicker at the vague look of disgust he gets in response. 

But, no. Even if either of them wanted to, tonight they had a mission.

Residing in the seediest part of Seattle’s Chinatown, The Lost City was a central hub for various underground dealings. Among those were aphrodisiacs and date rape drugs that moved hands from manufacturerers to linchpins, and from there into the drinks of future mail-order brides. There were several men involved in the operation. Mello, Near, and the rest of their team had managed to pinpoint three of them: David Smith, Jason Liu, and Emanuel Rivera. Undoubtedly aliases, but identifiers nonetheless. Catch any of them taking part in an exchange, and Mello and Near could blow the entire operation apart — all they needed was a testimony.

As it turns out, though, eyewitness accounts are hard to come by when everyone is hellbent on keeping mum. So, one evening, Near came up with an idea.

---

“We’ll call it a date night,” he said with his palms cupping Mello’s chin.

Near was sitting on top of a desk, face shadowed by the many monitors behind him. Mello, settled neatly between his legs, ran his hands up Near’s thighs. “You call a night out doing surveillance ‘a date?’”

He tilted his head, eyes wide. “Do you not know how to multitask?” 

Lover be damned, Mello was getting tempted to bite through the bone of Near’s thumb as it swept over his lips. He settled for taking it into his mouth and sucking instead.

---

So. Blue eyes sweep across the room, long since having gotten bored. Mello takes a sip from his rum and coke. Clearly uncomfortable beside him, Near almost seems to curl around his own drink. Some date this is shaping up to be. 

If nothing else —he amends, looping an arm around Near’s shoulders and pulling him closer— at least they look good together. Courtesy of himself, of course. Near probably would’ve come in his usual attire if the decision had been left up to him. Pajamas, messy hair, curious expressions and all. 

No, scratch that. At least they both looked legal, now. 

Regardless, they were still having trouble blending in, standing off to the side as they were. 

He takes another disgruntled sip of his drink as a man wearing a half-bun enters the main room. Mello’s attention immediately latches onto him. 

Jason Liu, age 37. 

He touches a hand to the choker on Near’s neck, pulls on it slightly. “Found him,” he says in quiet Portugese.

Near’s lips curl upwards in excitement. “Good,” Near replies in kind. He slips a hand into the back of Mello’s jeans and squeezes just hard enough to earn a glare. “I want to get closer.” He sets aside his beer and turns, a mischievous half-smile playing at the edges of his mouth. In English, “I suppose I’ll take you up on that offer from earlier.”

Mello’s eyes narrow. Near, what are you thinking…? “My pleasure,” he manages before the other detective sets off for the dancefloor. 

There’s nothing subtle about the way Near pushes his way through the crowd, and just the shine of the lights on his hair is enough to draw Mello’s gaze away from Liu as he struggles to follow. Focusing so heavily on the other must have been a mistake, however — a clubber upends half their drink onto him when they happen to collide. To make matters worse, Near reappears at his side as easily as he’d disappeared, lightly teasing, “Alcohol is supposed to go in your mouth, Mello.”

“I realize that. Thanks, Near.” Mello lifts his wrist to his mouth and tentatively licks, internally grinning at the way Near’s ever attentive eyes darken and go half-mast. “‘s not bad.” 

He sees Near’s attention dart away from him, then—

Going up on the balls of his feet, Near hangs his arms around his partner’s neck in a too-loose-limbed imitation of drunkenness. His breath is scentless —his drink had gone untouched all night— and it leaves nothing to focus on besides the resulting dampness and heat that meets Mello’s ear as Near murmurs, “The target is leaving the area through the back entrance.”

Mello looks around, quickly relocating the stout Asian man. Sure enough, he was just stepping out the door. He places a hand over Near’s shoulder blades in a kind of caress, hissing, “What, you thought I wouldn’t notice?”

“You looked distracted. Was I wrong?” A sharp nip to his earlobe, then Near pulls away with an affected —dizzying— quirk to his smile and a touch of brightness to his eyes. “Shall we?”

Mello scowls as the other man slips away from him.

Seattle’s winter is sharp as they step outside, the cold air hitting his nose and cheeks with a special kind of vengeance after the warmth of the bar. The pair of them take a moment to glance around, Mello hardly daring to breathe in case his good ear happens to miss a sound. 

Quietly, they hear the scratch of shoes against pavement. 

Mello jerks his head in that direction and, at Near’s nod, takes off with Near close at his heels. They stick to the shadows to avoid arousing suspicion, never more than a few meters behind Liu. When he stops in front of a nondescript van, they step in sync into the dark of a narrow alleyway, creeping to the edge of the brick wall to watch. The back doors of the van open and out come— 

—he’s turning this way— 

—Near pulls him deeper into the alley. 

The only other warning Mello gets is the glint of Near’s teeth as he grins, sly and stark under moonlight, before Near drags him downwards by the collar for a kiss. Their lips meet, teeth clashing harshly — Mello’s back hits the other wall with enough force that it shoots molten arousal down his veins. Ah, shit. He fumbles for the gadget in his pocket and sticks it to the wall-space next to him, then crawls his hands underneath Near’s shirt just to feel him shiver.

Near’s fingers reach up to tangle in and pull hard at Mello’s hair, half-lidded eyes watching the bob of his throat before Near sucks at his neck, insistent— Mello lets out a quiet moan that’s quickly cut off by another kiss. Biting at the blond’s lower lip, Near pulls away just far enough to whisper, “Careful. We don’t want to get caught, now do we?”

“Shut up, Near. Shut up, shut up—!” Grabbing his forearms tight enough to bruise, Mello spins until the other man’s back is hitting the wall —Near’s breath stuttering in surprise— and pins his wrists up against it. He tastes the heat of the other’s mouth, swallowing down the soft noise he makes, and moving his tongue molasses-slow against Near’s until the fog begins to clear from his head.

He pulls back, panting slightly but wearing a smirk at the way Near chases him out of the kiss. Still, he gently rubs the other’s wrists in silent apology as he lowers them. The air around them lowers by several degrees as Near relaxes against the wall, breathing hard through his nose. “That hurt, Mello.”

His smirk disappears. “Sorry. Are you—”

“No, I—” Near’s eyes open, revealing charcoal pupils blown-wide. “I meant that I liked it.”

Sparks shoot down Mello’s spine.

He works to clear his throat, and manages, after a few seconds, “Still. We should… try to be more careful. In the future.”

“...sounds good.”

Near twists a strand of hair between his fingertips. Mello tries to will his heartbeat back to normal. Offhandedly, he notices how silent the night’s become.

Near straightens up, suddenly alert. “The target!” He looks around the corner at where they’d last seen Liu, biting down on a reddened lip. “I shouldn’t have gotten so…”

“Distracted?”

Turning pink at the reminder of his earlier teasing, Near throws a cold stare Mello’s way, whose only response is to grin back, cat-like.

“‘Distracted,’ yes.” He sighs. “He’s gone. We’ve lost the target.”

Near goes into a crouch, hugging his knees to his chest in a forlorn manner, and Mello immediately decides that that’s enough wallowing in self-pity for one night. He brushes his hand through his hair, starting, “Well…” and wincing when he hits a tangle Near’s fingers had caused. “No, not exactly.” He frees his hand, then gestures to the tiny camera he’d stuck to the wall. Matt had handed it to him before they left headquarters earlier that night, citing this is a date, after all! with a shit-eating grin. “Check this out.” 

Near’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead. He leans in, inspecting the gadget before turning to look over his shoulder with a slight smile, genuine and warm. “That was very clever of you, Mello.”

The soft-spoken compliment has Mello’s face flushing a brighter shade of red than it has all night. “Fuck off,” he mumbles. He takes the camera off of the wall and shoves it back in his pocket, huffing.

He can still hear the smile in Near’s voice as he responds, “Alright.” Thin, pale fingers interlace between his own. “We should go home.”

Mello finally looks at him, heart skipping a beat at the way Near almost seems to glow in the evening’s darkness, and concedes. “Yeah,” he says. He clasps their hands just a bit tighter together. “Home it is.”

---

moonshine (n)

moon·​shine | \ ˈmün-ˌshīn \

Definition of moonshine

1 : moonlight

2 : empty talk : nonsense

3 : intoxicating liquor, especially : illegally distilled corn whiskey 

(via Merriam-Webster!)

---

a/n: and then they probably fucked :p 

my apologies to anyone named david smith, jason liu, or emanuel rivera -- i swear i don't have anything against those names >.< umm, it was my first time writing smth so... spicy?? so i hope i did well. anakien, if there's anything you want me to change, i absolutely will!!

let's see... special thanks to my friend, jean, for reading this over for me, haha!! oh, and the playlist for this fic can be found here!! thanks for reading!!

[themilky-way]

the motive {loki odinson}

gif credit: astouract

pairing: loki odinson x female! reader

summary: he takes pleasure in the way you react to his words. it’s a fun game up until you’ve had enough, and everything he’s wanted is sitting before him. based on the morning by the weeknd.

warnings: was supposed to be hella implied nsfw but i guess i got soft halfway through BUT i redeemed myself so ha 😼. anyways, minor nsfw themes and language, so caution. tiny, TINY angst oops. we kinky in dis one 

author’s note: i started school again so getting more works done will take a bit longer but i’ll try to write as much as i can! anyways hope this satisfies y’all 😌

-------

it had started out as a joke. a fun little game that would bring him some sort of entertainment during his stay on earth. and while it did work fairly well during the first few weeks, he never thought it would transition into this-whatever the hell this was.

loki was cunning and devious; it was part of his nature that would never cease to exist within him. he enjoyed causing some trouble here and there if it meant he kept a molecule of sanity. so when thor suggested he stay with him at the avengers tower, he thought he might explode. living in a humongous multi billionaire house with the people who wanted him dead? it was a set up. it had to be.

for loki, the first few weeks had been tolerable. he’d wake up in his assigned bedroom, fix himself a mediocre breakfast once the kitchen was empty, and then scurry up to a quiet place. he discovered that he could do as he pleased whenever the compound was free of residents, and since the avengers had much bigger threats now, he didn’t have to worry about them spying on him. it was false freedom, but he could live with it.

when he’d have such luxury, he would sometimes walk down to the common room to settle with a good book. sure, it may appear to be a boring pastime, but it wasn’t as if loki was going to throw an exuberant ball without tony’s permission. not that he was a man- dare he say god-of seeking approval, but it was common courtesy, for odin’s sake! he had morals he needed to follow, thus requiring him to partake in hobbies that would not get him in trouble.

however, when he came across a particular mortal one night, the values he sought after vanished. it’s as if they never existed at all, and once again the laws of time and space defied him. you were there, taking up his entire field of vision in just an oversized t-shirt. could it be your partner’s? loki questioned. it most likely was, yet he found himself hoping it wasn’t. in that moment, it didn’t help that his mind had stopped functioning. when you stepped into the kitchen, the shirt hiking up slightly with every step, his body didn’t allow him to look away. his novel was discarded far away on the couch, and his hands searched for some type of cloth to grip. it was here, with your body bent over and curiously searching through the refrigerator, that his carnal instincts heightened. then, his knuckles turned white when you finally noticed him.

“oh fuck, hi,” you gasped. the glass bottle you were holding dropped, but it knew better than to actually hit the floor. seconds after catching it, you turned to look at the stranger in front of you. “didn’t see ya there.”

loki tried-really tried-to think of a good reason not to bend you over again, on that lovely kitchen counter your fingertips were dancing on, and take you right then and there. perhaps it might seem a tad bit rude? would such an action be impolite? the right answer was yes: it was absolutely all of the above. a first date is necessary to win the heart of a lady, and then a couple more to build a friendship. the relationship would come naturally, with given time, of course. in his head, the god was scoffing at how eager he was to win this clumsy, beautiful creature. he was one who took what he wanted-whenever he wanted-and didn’t look back. but loki was confined to the dull walls of the compound, and apparently so were you. he needn’t worry, for time had joined his side once more; he’d get to know how sweet you could taste, how your mouth would mindlessly shudder out his name, and the man couldn’t be more thrilled.

“are you able to speak?”

the simple question reached him, and when he searched for the source, he came face to face with you. you were standing in front of him, in all your delicious glory, and it almost broke him. still, he was deceitful; you couldn’t know that. “of course i speak, you fool,” loki shot back.

“okay, well, you didn’t answer me back there,” you pointed out. your hands were neatly clasped behind you, excitedly rocking back and forth on the heels of your feet, when you extended a hand for introduction. your name confidently slipped out, giving loki the most tender smile anyone could offer him. “pleased to meet you, sir.”

sir. the name stirred something up inside him, and he wasn’t able to tell if he’d accidentally let out a moan upon hearing it. did you know how innocent you sounded? how ravishing you appeared right now-with the soft skin of your thighs drawing out the patterns he so wished to kiss, or how the outline of your bosom prominently showed itself through your clothes. he stopped himself, though, before he could cross the line between observant and creepy. the last thing he wanted was to make you feel uncomfortable, having had the same dreadful feeling for far too long during his lifetime.

“don’t call me that.” the hand you were holding out was covered by his own. the handshake was quick, not too harsh or loose, but just adequate. he said his name, and he found himself missing the feeling of your skin against his.

“why?”

“because it’s not for you to say.” a lie. a very well calculated one, at that. he may be properly forged in the art of deception, but right now he wasn’t quite sure he passed the test. if he could grant permission to any woman to use the term of endearment, it’d sure as hell be you.

“alright then,” you mildly laughed. “i’ll just have to find a name i can call you.”

after that, loki realized that his source of happiness ultimately came from you. he enjoyed the unlikely bond you both had, one that formed because of the god’s inability to keep it in his pants. it was awkward at first-with everything you did or said locked in his mind wherever he’d go-but the confidence he always carried with him returned at one point.

today, loki never forgot to let you know what you did to him. this was it. the game he sought after since his inherent arrival at the tower. this was the adrenaline, the crazed connection he’d been hunting for centuries. it ignited something-between the two of you-whenever loki’s mouth would hover over your earlobe, whispering just how agonizingly slow he could take you. he never mentioned how he’d go about doing it, leaving you to wonder which part of him would fulfill the deed. oftentimes, loki didn’t even have to say anything. if he was feeling particularly shy that evening, and the team was all there, all loki would do was pat his knee. if you want to, if you really need to, you can finish on my leg. the simple image of it would have your hand between your legs that night.

“loki, what the hell.” you found him inside your dorm one particularly rainy night, lighting the candles you kept on either of your nightstands. “i keep my door locked for a reason, y’know. and stop wasting my candles.”

“i can’t help myself, darling. they smell quite lovely,” loki smiled. it was sincere, adoring even, and the way he took comfort in your tiny space brought a light tug to your stomach. you stayed still as you watched his tall form stride over to you. a small breath caught in your throat when loki peered down at you, and he caught it. he knew what he did to you, and he gained a new sense of pride at just how quickly he could make your knees go weak. his thumb and index fingers suddenly-gently-lifted your chin higher so your eyes could lock together. his own searched for something as if to look for the answer to his next question.

“you’re aware this isn’t just strictly physical, right?”

quite frankly, you were not in the loop even a little bit. “what?”

the tiny whisper made him want to carve out your lips with his own, slow, and taunting, and hard. he refrained for the time being. “think hard on it. there’s no rush.”

“no, i get what you meant. it’s just” you shook your head, prompting loki to let go of his grip. “i dunno. i thought you didn’t catch feelings, let alone for me.” loki let out a hearty laugh which forced a goofy grin onto your face. you liked seeing him like this. happy.

“i’m not stone cold, darling. you’re the only one i’ve ever had an infatuation with, though. well done, you seem to have captured my heart,” he joked. you giggled with him as you lightly shoved his chest, but loki caught your wrist before you could take it back. the kiss he brought to the inside of it had you swooning. a childish, girly feeling, yet you couldn’t care less. the both of you stayed there for a while and casually chatted until it was time for loki to head out. that night, you hardly got any sleep.

-------

ever since then, loki acted as if he didn’t remember it. he went back to his cocky self, not that you minded, but some simple recognition would’ve been nice. the days lapsed as they did before: loki doing everything in his divine power to make you ache for him. it worked, no matter how hard you avoided it, but soon you stopped trying. your body demanded for loki to touch you. to give you more than a simple brush of his lips to your wrist, yet he gave you anything but. and so you set out to change that.

it was the late hours of the night, with your team comfortably dispersed amongst the common room. movie night was in full effect, and no one had the intention of looking away from the gory film that was currently playing. you were seated next to wanda, the man you wanted painfully too far away from your reach. he didn’t have any clue you were angry with him, nor were you going to tell him. he was a thoughtful man, he’d figure it out.

you blinked away only to be met with his gaze. it was sharp, hungry. he looked you over as his tongue dipped out to run along his lip, biting it once he finally saw what he wanted. you’d be lying if you said it didn’t arouse you. of course it did; the poor man would rail you straight into this couch right now if he got the chance to.

you looked away, fearing vulnerability, and somehow managed to make it to the end of the marathon. you all said your farewell’s and deparated to your designated corridors, and just when you were about to close your door, a hand stopped it.

he pushed himself inside without much resistance from your own part. you stepped back and allowed him to close it, suddenly feeling a bit small. he looked at you then, the hunger replaced by confusion.

“is everything alright?” he inquired. no it’s not. you won’t shove two fingers into my mouth and tell me how good i’ve been.

“is everything alright-” you scoffed, “no it’s fucking not, loki.” you ran your hands through your hair and looked down, finding the decorative tiles on your floor quite intriguing.

“hey, woah, look at me. tell me what’s wrong, sweet.”

“that. that’s what’s wrong, loki. it’s the way you can tease me whenever you want, and call me sweet names and expect me not to react. you give me nothing to work with, for fuck’s sake!” a couple tears ran down your cheeks unbeknownst to you, but loki was quick to hold your face in his hands. his thumb wiped the drops in quick, tender-like motions and he crumbled at the way you focused on him.

“i’m sorry, darling. my intentions were never meant to bring you harm, much less sorrow. how can i fix this?”

“i need you to, fuck i-” you took a couple of breaths. “i need-want-you to touch me. to make me feel good, in all the ways you know how.”

loki chuckled quietly, a proud, defiant smirk curving along his lips. “is that what this is about? why, you could’ve just asked. no need for a tantrum.”

rolling your eyes, you tried to look away from him, but his hands began traveling to the curve of your neck, a lonely thumb parting your lips. he pried your mouth open and slipped it inside, letting the noise hidden in the back of his throat escape when your tongue wrapped around him. “is this what you wanted?”

your own luscious moan filled the room, and you felt his thumb push harder against your tongue.

“use your words, angel.”

an enticing gasp. “yes, sir.”

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Life After Snowpiercer: Tell Me, Please?

Summary- Curtis Everett x Y/N. Tensions are still there between you two, but Curtis demands an answer. Your group collects the last bit of supplies and makes it towards the front, only to be confronted at the end. Trauma, Some Violence. Word Count- 4.9k

Chapter 7 / Masterlist

Curtis watched you sleep, in sleep you relaxed yourself from whatever plagued you, during the night having pulled in half sprawled across his very sore ribs, and laid your head in the center. The rise and fall of your shoulders so slight that he would have to really be studying them to see that yes, you were still asleep. You faced away from him, but you sighed softly and shifted yourself, tilting yourself closer, his eyes able to rove over the curve of your nose, and how your lips have chapped slightly. The dark bruises under your eye, at first it would see to have been tiredness, but much to the anger he was feeling coil in his gut, someone must have hit you hard at some point the past few days. His eyes continued to rove, noticing other scrapes, and bruises along your scalp line.  Would you tell him though? Further he noticed that there was a cut in the corner of your mouth and without a thought, his fingers brushed along the mark, hissing to himself when your eyes shot open, unfocused and a touch of fear clouding them. In all the years you two have known each other, you never looked at him like that, and it phased him more then you could know. 

You were fallen in one of those dreamless deep sleeps, the kind where your cocooned in darkness and nothing is drawing you forward into images. Blackness, soothing blackness. There was no visual moments where you had to think and rationalize. It was peaceful. Things merely ceased to exist. 

A touch brought you back, so light but the sting it left near your lips brought it back and you tensed, ready to yank away when your eyes opened, prepared for the worst, that sneering grin reaching for you in your safe place, ready to drag you out and put vile pain all over your body. No, we escaped, we got out.

Curtis face sharpened second later in your view, and you softened, loosening your grasp in his jacket where you had fisted your hands to keep from being pulled away. See Y/N, your safe. This is home. Curtis hand slid from your mouth to brush aside the soft hairs curling over your cheek, and you dragged in a deep breath, and released it, feeling your chest expand and his steady heart beating underneath your cheek kept you grounded. “Bad dream?” Curtis asked after a few seconds of the two of you just staying silent. You quirk the corner of your mouth a bit “Nothing serious Curtis.” Your hand smoothed over his chest and you realzined where you were laying. “Shit sorry baby, your ribs.” Going to move his hand clasped on the back of your neck to keep you from moving. 

“Dont, they are fine. Tell me about what you were dreaming about?” Hoping she would relax enough just the two of them to talk about what you were thinking about. His grasp turned lighter now that you werent moving, sliding his thumb over the column, and you slightly relaxed once more, biting your already chapped lips and wincing slightly at the sting. 

“Yea, I saw you favoring your side Curtis” You informed him, but you didnt move. Honestly after the past few days, you were just fucking thankful you got to do this again. “And nothing, hell I think I was so damn tired, it wasnt sleep. Somewhere just before a coma.” You rub your face lightly against his chest and sigh. “I could slip back into it right now if we didnt have to prepare to move to the front.” His thumb continued to feather along your neck, circling over the bruises of fingertips that had pressed down to hard. Faint, but Curtis saw them better now that your hair wasnt covering them. 

“What happened Y/N?” his brows coming together and lifting the heaviness of your hair back from your neck. You then pulled away and straightened your hair back over your neck. He shifted to half sit up on his elbows. “Y/N, you gotta tell me who put hands on you?-” His inquiry got interrupted when your name got called, and you took the moment to avoid Curtis questions, calling back out. “In here!” Tugging on your jacket and looking at Curtis “We will talk about it later baby, promise.” His hand moved against your arm to keep you with him, but you slipped out of his hold. Leaving him there with more questions and no answers. His lips thinned tightly and his jaw clenched, a dark suspicion inkling its way into his thoughts. 

All of those fuckers are dead. His thoughts snapped as he snatched his jacket, trying to keep from blowing over. Im going to hunt every single on of them down.   It was the last thing you needed was him loosing his temper, but that didnt stop the rage building in his chest, or the guilt. Why didnt I leave them with protection? Gone back, brought them weapons... Hearing your footsteps descend away, Curtis knew that you were heading towards the wounded. Grasping his beanie, and leaving the warmth and comfort of the momentary home, and slipped it on. Now that it was day, he could see just how far the group had been able to do. They had gone through several cars and hauled out anything decent. Catching a glimpse of you leaning down to check Saras shoulder, you also caught sight of Edgar sitting up, and a box next to him, stuffing something into his mouth. 

“Is that... crackers?” Curtis asked as Edgar held his arm out to grasp and get up. With some effort, Edgar managed to get to a stand, hauling the beat up cracker box with him. “Yea, they found a bit of this kind of stuff a few cars up. Dried goods, flour, sugar, cans.” He held out the box for Curtis to reach his hand into and withdrew a few crackers that he took a bite of. It was stale as fuck, salty, and just about one of the best things he can remember ever having. 

“Yes, I remember passing through right after the water, supplies Im assuming for the rest of the train. There was a few more similar closer to thre front as well” Curtis mentioned, and Edgar nodded over to where a pile of food had been made, along with clothing and blankets. “Im sure the front survivors have already raided some of those others.” Maybe they will be okay until were able to figure out a more permanent solution. “Hows your back?” Curtis turned his attention away from the supplies, and Edgar turned, lifting his shirt enough so Curtis could see. The length of the actual stab looked to be a good three inches long, red all around. Although burned from where the ax blade had laid across it, it was sealed. You came on over just then and ducked around Curtis, getting in for a closer look. 

“Thank God they got it sealed” You breathed out and tugged on Edgars shirt to have him put it back down, when he turned to face you, you drew in close and hugged around his neck. “You punk, I told you to be careful” Curtis cast a downward glance, regret and guilt passing and Edgar shook his head lightly Dont... You never saw the exchange pass between the two men. “Yea well, when I ever bloody listen anyways?” Edgar withdrew and smirked at you, causing you to scowl at him. 

“Well Im back now, so your gonna.” You point a finger at him, and then smooth your hand against his arm in a loving gesture. 

“Are the people able to travel? Or do they still need some recovery time?” Curtis changing the subject from Edgar, his hand rested against your waist, and it felt heavy to you, like he wasnt ready to let you go, that you were actually with him. He must have really believed he wouldnt see me again. 

“If we go slow, Im sure we can. Everyones so exhausted though, another day might not hurt anyone.” You tip your head towards Edgar and he immediately rebutes it although you ignore him. “Sara, shes bad off. Its inflamed and im worried I might not have gotten everything out. It was hard to tell...” You drifted off as Curtis took a glance at the woman you were talking about. Seeing her huddled against the wall, head tipped forward. “She says she can travel, but she will need to stop alot.”

 That confirmed it for Curtis, he shook his head. “Then we stay, one more day.” 

The rest of the time was spent sorting through supplies, packing it in a way it could be carried. Outside fires were kept stroked and burning, using debris off the train, and someone found large hollowed metal bins that with some scrubbing could work to melt snow in. The idea of being able to wash up appealed to you, and once you were sure the others waters needs were met hours later, you worked on warming up a pot for yourself. One of the cars towards the back had side rooms available for actual privacy, and you planned on taking full advantage. 

You didnt need much and using a blanket to handle the hot container, you hauled your bit of hot water through the car to the end, slipping inside. Of course Curtis noticed from where he had been helping to pack up the dried goods in blankets to easier carry them, and he turned to Edgar “Get as much packed as possible, if we have to we will come back for the rest.”  

“Yea, sure... where you going?” He asked as Curtis moved away from the group, calling over his shoulder. 

“Got someone to take care of” Edgar just shrugged and went back to what he was doing. 

You were in the process of undressing, when a soft knock happened on the door. Squeaking in alarm, you say loudly so there was no denying that whomever heard you. “Occupied!” 

“I know, Im coming in.” Curtis said as he opened the door and you withdrew from sight, looking to grab your shirt and cover yourself. 

“Curtis! Im busy” In which he just arched a brow and shut the door behind him, okay lame on your part, not much was kept hidden in the tail end and youve never been super shy before with him. Your fingers played in the shirt, looking down and away from where he stood. It was thankfully darkish in the room, you felt better being somewhat hidden, not wanting that question you know was coming. 

Just seeing you react, he knew. He could see it all over your face that you were dealing with a heavy mix of emotions, but the one he saw the most was shame, and he couldnt for the life of him understand why. How he wanted to go and wrap you in against him, take away all of those memories and protect you better, I should have... fuck why didnt I leave people behind. “Y/N, Baby, I know something happened. Please tell me. You were scared this morning, and youve been avoiding me. I-” he sighed and took a cautionary step closer, and could see the glimmer of tears streaking down your face. “- just got you back. I cant loose you again, especially like this.” His voice lowered, gruffer, you could tell he was trying to keep himself in check. 

Standing there, trying not to let him see you, how you wish you could shrink away into the wall. You tried so hard to fight back and just werent strong enough, spit it out you scolded yourself, but you stayed silent, lifting your face to look at him and dropped your shirt. Curtis took an audible gasp at the bruising that littered your body, your pale skin dark and yellowed with discernible finger and hand prints. Covering your face in your shame. “Oh god, Im sorry Curtis, I tried to stop them.” 

What?!  Oh babygirl, no....He stepped forward and wrapped his hands gently around your wrists and pulled them away. “Babygirl sshhh.... Im not mad at you.” You blinked up at him with that wide eyed stare of yours and then pushed in against him, sobbing into his chest and he lowered the two of you to the floor, careful to keep you in his lap, and rocking you softly. The pain blossomed in his chest at what you were saying, the way your whole body sobbed into his, and he let you. Nothing but the soft swaying motion, like one would do for a child, and his chin rested atop your head as it was buried in against him. There were no words he could say at this moment to make it better, you had to be able to simply cry it out until you were ready to tell him what happened. But even now, he could see the bruises down your back. When I get my hands on them, all those fuckers are going to pay. Oh it wasnt an If, Curtis was all about When. He wouldnt stop till he had his hands on there throats, squeezing the last breath from there lungs.

You finally fell silent in his arms, a occasional body rocking hiccup stirring from you, but that was all you had. His hand came up to your face and gently brushed aside the hair that had gotten stuck to your face from the tears, looking down at you with a soft expression. “sorry” you hiccup out and it seems to be the only thing you can think to say. 

“Babygirl, they are the ones who will be sorry.” he shifted you a bit so you werent so folded up, letting his hand rest against your knee and his thumb sweeping over it gently. “The fact they touched you will make them regret everything they have done in life. Im going to see to it personally.” You gulped a bit listening to him, the promise in his face, the rage simmering in his eyes, it was all there. You were just thankful it wasnt directed at you, cause even now it was scaring you. And in the same breath, it blossomed a warm raging happiness in your chest, spiraling in a way that made you shake slightly. They would hurt to, not just for what they did to you, but you were sure that others suffered a similar fate that day.

He leaned forward and dipped his fingers into the water, finding it still warm. “How about we clean you up Babygirl? and then go get you something to eat. I know you havent had anything today.” You slowly unfold yourself from around him and Curtis takes the rag, dipping it in the water and wringing it out. He holds his hand out for you to take it, but you turn instead your back to him, reaching behind you to gather your hair and lift it off your neck. You trusted him, you knew his touch would be gentle and caring along your bruises, and it was an intimacy you desired to share with him. Dipping your head when you felt the cloth brush over your shoulder, sure enough he was gentle as it went down your back and over your hip, continuing downwards, he squatted down to do the back of her thighs and calves. “Face me Y/N” he said, giving the softest brush of a kiss against a tender looking spot on your hip. You twisted to face him as he rose up to start from your shoulders and down again. 

The riddled marks on your body, now fully seeing what you had been through destroyed a sane part of Curtis, he never wanted to kill anyone more then these men, not even Wilford for all the evilness he had done. There was just a few on your back, careful as he traced over them. You must have fallen from up high, or they took a boot to you. Having you turn for him, he make his way down in a similar fashion. The worst bruises seemed to be on your hips and inside of your thighs, and to see them in such a intimate spot. It was his spot to rest his hands whenever he held you, not anyone elses, and it hurt him that you had to bare such marks. They actually made him growl softly and he was caught by surprise when you cupped his face, running your fingers through his beard. Focus Curtis... He chided himself as he continued with your legs and then swept up the inside of your calves and thighs, this time placing a soft kiss on your belly button and back up to a stand. 

This time when he offered you the rag you took it, to finish up, and you thought about what had transpired. Now Curtis had seen all of what they had done, and getting dressed again, you thought about what he had seen and his reaction. It was foolish for me to think he would be mad at me. Sometimes theres no rational reason for your reactions. He remained silent as he handed you clothing, slipping them on a piece at a time. Grasping your coat, he held it up for you and you backed into it, sliding your arms in one at a time. Before you could start to button it up, he turned you back to face him, doing the buttons himself, smiling softly. “You always have a hard time with these babygirl” 

“I know, you would think after all this time I wouldnt need  your help doing them up.” You chuckled softly at them, all different mismatched sizes, not quite placed right. You could patch a person up, but damned if you could sew decently. 

“Well, let me tell you babygirl, Im glad you still need me to do this.” He finished up the last one, and lifted his hand up to cup your face, cradling it in both hands, his thumbs brushing along the softness of your cheeks, the soft downy hairs brushing under the pad of his thumb. Your hands folded over his wrists while looking up at him. “Y/N, nothing, certainly not this changes anything between us. So whatever you think would drive me away, its not going to happen.” He wouldnt break his eyes from yours, needing you to know just how serious he was. 

“I know... I- I panicked. I felt that what happened, I should have stopped it.” You admitted, and took a deep breath, ragged from earlier, but no tears sprang forth talking about it. Curtis had been correct in you needing that release, a cleanse. Maybe now this was the beginning of coming to terms with it. Keeping his darker thoughts to himself that throbbed in his temples, as you gave a brief description of what happened, this would be a trial and error for you two, Curtis not wanting to push you in a way you werent ready, and you craving the exact same vibe you two had before. It would take time, to heal. Curtis isnt going anywhere.... 

Leading you out of the room, he carried the water, and you followed along behind, your hand fisting in the loose part of his jacket. You lighten considerably he noticed once you joined the group, immediately falling back into old habits of stopping and chatting with groups, looking over those you considered your patients, and falling right back into playing with the kids for the rest of the evening, you even made an effort to eat a can of beans that Curtis pried open for you, sharing with the kids you went to hang out with. There wasnt much difference in how you were as from before, and he gave you your freedom, sticking nearby with Edgar, first finishing there earlier project, then Curtis finished his tale of what had happened. 

“You mean Matt is actually still alive?!” Edgar remembered the boy well, back then. Looked up to him, almost like a brother. Curtis nodded. 

“Yes, and dumbass me left them tied up in the engine. Im sure they have been released now. I tried telling Y/N what hes like... hes dangerous. If he comes around her, I dont know... watch him extra close. She wouldn't forgive me if I hurt him.” A glance over to you showed you laughing while playing itsy bitsy spider with one of the smaller children, cuddling them in your lap while you twisted your fingers to go up the pole, and then sprinkle your fingers down to tickle the youngin’ on the neck. 

“Curtis, maybe it wont come to something like that, Y/N is a pretty good judge of people... Im sure she will see how twisted he is.” 

Curtis shrugged, he hoped so. But this was her brother, she loved this kid more then anyone else on the train, and he almost lost her then. If she gets her heart broken again, forcing her to give a damn might not be so easy. Making her choose between Matt and Himself, he didnt want to put her in that spot, maybe a bit of fear stabbing at the back of his unconscious, would she pick him if she was forced between them?  “We will see probably tomorrow afternoon. I want to get us out of here and back to the front, before they decide they dont need us, and have basically the majority of the supplies once more. Were not equipped enough to survive out there and eventually were going to have to move away from the train for food. Most the cars up there are still upright and can be used for shelter.” 

You looked up to see Curtis and Edgar deep in a discussion, and you untangle yourself from the kids. “Bedtime for all of us. Tomorrow were going to the front.” 

“The front?!”

“For reals this time” 

“wonder what its like?”

“I dont know” You shrug “We just gotta wait and see tomorrow, now off to bed.” You shooed them away to a nest of blankets they made for themselves, and wandered over to Curtis. “Im heading off to sleep, see you all in the morning.” You waved off to the group. Curtis gave you a few minutes to get yourself ready and then excused himself as well. 

When he got there  you were already curled under the blankets, just a soft pile of your hair showing above the blankets. He shredded out of the majority of his clothing and slipped in beside you, thinking you was already asleep, but surprising him as you flipped to her other side, starting at him in the dark. 

“I love you, thank you for coming back for me.” 

“I will always come back for you, I love you to babygirl.” Curtis declared, and you moved over closer and lifted his arm to go around you, your head resting on his shoulder, and your hand slid under his shirt and rubbed your hands across the all familiar soft hairs and broad muscles of his chest, settling over where you could feel that familiar thump of life. This was familiar, comforting, and relaxed into this. The past 36 hours was your hell, and this was your salvation. You actually fell asleep and this time you dreamed, not of what happened, but what was to come. 

The next morning proved to be busy chaos. After taking a few moments to wake up, Curtis was never one to just roll up and go unless necessary, usually proving him to be rougher around the edges, well more so then usual with the upcoming unknown going back to the front now with the tail enders. “Get up, time to get a move on.” he rumbled, the toe of his boot nudging people as he passed through the group, Edgar grumbling and flipping him off as he to got a toe to the leg and a “Get the fuck up, we dont got all day.” 

You rubbed your eyes and snorted in laughter at the grumblings you heard through the crowd, although they complied. You helped hand off sacks of food that they all packed in blankets the day before and you went to your patients, checking them over right quick. The only person you were really concerned for was Sara. If anything she looked paler then the day before. But her wound was  still firey red. Biting the inside of your cheek, you smiled, and helped her up. “Dont hesitate to ask for help, I wont be far off” You stress to her till Sara gives a nod and Johanna wraps an arm around her. “Dont worry, we got her.” 

Maybe it will all be okay. 

The group filed out, Curtis again taking up the rear, watching for any sign of the aggressors from the day before, he had skimmed over the cliff edge, and checked out the path back up, but found no signs. Maybe the fuckers are gone.... He wistfully considered, as he trudged along behind, holding a rifle over his shoulder and in his hands a heavy axe was kept close. In any hand to hand fight, he would rather have the axe on hand instead of the rifle. You made your way back through the crowd and fell in step with him, looking over your shoulder, it seemed like the train was an endless line of cars. You all must be getting close.

“Theres so many to sort through still.” Talking about the cars, Curtis grunted in agreement, glancing down at you. “Well I wouldnt bother with any holding people, all the stuff we need is in those storage ones. Im just hoping the front end had the sense to get into the livestock cars and save anything that survived.” You blinked a bit in surprise, you never actually thought there would be any kind of livestock on the train, the front end having stopped giving the boiled eggs a few years ago. 

“Like... chickens and such?”

“Chickens, pigs, some beef cows, couple of those your supposed to milk and all. Yes, had them all. Plus at least 2 cars filled with frozen butchered meat, a large green house cart. The front end didnt have our struggles, that is for damn sure.” 

Fuck when was the last time you had a roasted chicken? Steak? Your mouth literally watered at the idea of it. 

“No they certainly didnt.”

A few moments of silence between them, the occasional brush of shoulders as Curtis shortened his stride matching your, the change in it made you hide a smile, looking down. You were sure he didnt intend on you to notice and it just resolved in you what you already knew about him. He would always look out for you. Your shared silence was interrupted by a shout as the group started to bunch up and come to a halt. “Curtis Everett to the front, I know your leading this mess.”

 Curtis then picked up his pace, you following behind him closely as he weaved through the people milling into a group and coming out in the front. You were about to follow alongside him but Edgar caught the back of your coat, keeping you back slightly and thats when you saw what was before you. 

Heavily armed group of people, waiting and they parted as a man and Claude came through. The smirk on the mans face shined right into his eyes, so fucking cold, and you felt your heart sink in your stomach. It really was Matt, just as Curtis described it. 

“Well we knew you would come back Curtis.” His arms folded over his chest, as he surveyed the people behind Curtis. “And brought your little rag tag mess of people.” Matt turned his attention to those that started to line up around Curtis, assessing the threat before them. “You might as well just join us everyone, there really is no better answer. You may have the numbers, but we have the supplies, and that includes the rifles.” Matt looked up and down his line of people, smug, satisfied, he won. “So you might as well give up, well before this has to turn ugly Curtis, I mean... We are in this mess cause of you after all.” Claude hung on Matts arm, but he pulled it away and took a step forward till he was standing before Curtis, who glared down at him. “So what do you say tail ender? I clearly won.” 

“Matt!” You yanked your arm from Edgar and snapped up right in his face, inches away, anger rolling off you in steams. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Curtis arm shot out and grabbed you by the arm, pulling you back to him, not trusting Matt to not hurt you physically. You pulled on your arm, but Curtis grasp was iron and unrelenting. “You are our family, how DARE you even speak like that, after all we been through to get up here.” 

“Yea Sister” He said with such venom in his tone, your mouth snapped shut, jaw clenching in your anger and confusion. “All we been through, you had if just fine in the tail end, but not good enough, sending your man up here to wreck it all, correct?” 

That was the last line when Curtis fist connected with Matts face, his head snapping back sharply. 

Curtis could tolerate alot of things, your brother disrespecting you clearly wasnt one of them. 

Fuck it all.  

@curtisbbq​ @what-is-your-plan-today​ @jtargaryen18​ @p8tn0lish​ @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123​ @official-and-unstable-satan​ @thatweirdwalangpake​

[binkyisonline]

Touch My World With Your Fingertips- chapter 1

Summary:

The city has lost the battle against the Bedouins' tribe and the two young oracles, John and Roger, are the prize for the winners. Farrokh, the leader of the Tuareg and Brian, his general from the north, wait for them at the camp and for the show they have in store.

John dances for them, accompanied by Roger's drums; after that the oracles are brought back to the temple and prepared for their first night together with their future husbands.

They will be separate: Roger will spend the night with Brian and John is destined for Farrokh …

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

John holds, with trembling hands the brass tray that the priestess gave him; he walks slowly, focusing on each step, firmly putting his feet on the smooth marble floor being afraid of stumbling over while he tries to calm down his heart.

They didn’t have the time to understand or ask what would have happened to them as soon as the whole ceremony in honour of their new masters ended. John has the faint taste of the man, that soon would become his husband, still on his lips whilst mixed feeling crawling up into his tormented soul.

He’s scared. He can’t lie to himself.

He’s afraid of what will happen next, to them, to their lives, afraid of whom will possess them, a prize to show, a memory of a battle won.

His body has been stripped of everything, every precious jewel or lavish fabric is gone, only a pair of small anklets remain. Bare, with only tribal paintings that had been meticulously applied on him and Roger, is escorted by two servants that turn off some oil lamps on their way, letting the darkness fall between the columns of the temple.

Those very paintings that only his future husband could have wiped away, as a sign of complete submission and trust.

On the tray stands a finely crafted cup and a linen cloth that would have served to wash him with the water from the thermal spring. In his left hand a small jar from which he would pour the wine to offer in addition to his complete surrender.

John refuses to let despair get the best of him, to let fall those little tears that burn in his rigged eyes, knowing well that he can be strong.

He would fight, if necessary.

He would have done it if he had been forced to.

When the large doors are opened in front of him, he tries not to look up, fixing his gaze on the delicate drawings of the majolica that adorn the floor, but he can’t avoid it forever.

Already immersed in the small square tub in the middle of the room, Farrokh is as surprised as him when their eyes meet. A brief moment, broken by John that humbly lower his head going back to slowly walk in front of him.

He has to be composed, beautiful, and he must force the other man to stare at him while the only sound in the room is the one of his anklets that follows his every move.

He is alone with the Bedouin by now, the doors have been closed, and he has to face this upcoming destiny.

Slowly, he descends the small steps that brings him to be waist-deep in the warm water. He focuses on control himself and on what he has to do; he lays the tray on the side, starting to pour the wine in the cup as he turns to face the man.

He holds his breath when those wild eyes look at him again.

The other waits, breathing slowly, calm even; elbows on the edge of the tub, apparently perfectly mastering the situation. Indeed, he’s a man who knows how to charm people around him, with his regal and masculine presence, that alone commands respect in others toward a true leader; he knows he’s feared, probably, and that increase his ego more.

When John gives him the cup, for an instant, he fears that it would slip off his hands, but the man is quick to accept the aromatic beverage, barely touching the younger’s fingers.

Farrokh observes him in silence, absently sipping on his wine while John keeps his eyes down, uselessly trying, to muster the courage and accept the cruel reality. It’s undeniable that he’s afraid, only knowing to be prey to that persistent gaze put him in distress.

-Are you afraid of me?- The other asks, John slowly denies, shaking his head, his long hair gently sway touching his shoulders.

Lies.

The few encounters he had with men like him are distant and faint memories of another life when he was merely a slave. All their eyes were on him back then, they appreciated his young body, but they never dared to touch him, not even by mistake.

Now, he finds himself to be an object in the hands of his new master, and he didn’t know how to react to that.

What he does knows, however, is that he would never cave into his charm, he would never let him know what was deep down in his soul.

And yet John realize that Farrokh, in that short amount of time, never gave him the chance to have such feeling of disgust that he, initially, though he would have for his soon to be husband.

His train of thoughts is being stopped when the Bedouin’s fingers gently grasp his chin, forcing him to look at him in the eyes. Although John tries in vain to keep it down, takes courage and obey.

Farrokh smiles at him, showing his white and pronounced teeth, with a slight grin.

-Don’t lie to me, sibi.- whispering low, John frowns a little hearing a strange word that he never heard before. He doesn’t answer yet feeling his body tremble, not in fear, but of unknown pleasure given to him by the way the other man looks at him, his eyes emphasized by heavy makeup.

-Tell me the truth.- he speaks again slowly, just the faint sound of the water around them break the conversation.  

He tries to think fast, but he realizes that Farrokh hasn’t hurt him yet. He just stands there staring at him curiously, without forcing him to do anything he doesn’t want to. For now, he’s been very careful, he didn’t force him to speak or touch without consent, he even didn’t try to give him a more passionate kiss than the one shared the previous night in his tent, after John’s dance.

John then takes a long breath, lightly biting his lower lip and realizing he was holding on, he says a weak “yes” that leaves the bedouin surprised.

He would like to be stronger like Roger is, he would have wanted to keep his silence, even more, praying to the Goddess that the night ahead could end quickly. But instead, he finds himself admitting that Farrokh is behaving perfectly with him.

A simple proof of his kindness is the fact that he hasn’t even touched the tribal painting on his body.

Nothing.

He didn’t even touch him with a single finger.

Farrokh had only accepted the cup, that he humbly brought him, politely sipping without gulp it down at once like a parched horse.

Thinking over those little details bring the young oracle to relax a bit, just enough to not to argue at the moment the other gently holds him in his arms, making him sits on him. John would like to take back the little moan that escapes from his parted lips, surprised at the sudden contact between their cock, but his body fails him, as well as the shiver running down his spine when, to avoid his fall, he puts his hands on the bedouin hairy chest.

And it’s a strange but sweet sensation the one of having a naked and warm body against his.

He trembles when he feels the man placid breath on his cheek, the faint sweet scent of wine doesn’t bother him at all, but he can’t let his guard down, not now, even if Farrokh’s hands are gentle and politely rests on his back. The water sloshing a little all around them, crashing on the edges, the rose petals float with every movement.

The bedouin gently pushes a strand of hair away from the younger face that wince a little at the gesture; Farrokh watches him narrowing his gaze, studying his every reaction and maybe his every fear.

-I don’t want you to be afraid of me, Sibi. I won’t hurt you.- still speaking slowly, his tone calm and polite.

-Neither now nor in the future.-

John would like to tell him that he can’t trust him right away but he keeps silent, for now.

After that, the younger oracle smiles a little, slowly nodding, making the other man’s grin widen and subtly chuckle.

The tension seems to quiet down between them, even if he doesn’t trust him, he tries to let himself go to those little attentions, feeling his entire body lighting up when Farrokh brush his slightly exposed neck with his fingertips. Nothing inappropriate or too intense, neither gross, letting yourself be touched so softly by a complete stranger. He barely stiffens in fear that the same hand may go beyond his chest and touch him between his legs when he absently follows the pattern of one of his painting.

Suddenly John has his head clouded by a warm sensation, his eyelids droop heavily whilst he moves closer to completely enjoy those sweet attentions.

But Farrokh divert his way to take back the cup that rests on the side of the tub; John frowns when he hands it to him.

-You’ll like it.- he says confidently but the younger man is still hesitant. The bedouin keeps on smiling at him affable and charming. Once again the older man continues to amaze him with unexpected gestures.

John gulps, heart beating nervously in his chest.

-N-no…- he whispers softly while his face reddens in shame -i can’t.- he admit, voice low and quietly.

His body is an immaculate temple and one of his obligations was to keep it that way, therefore to John has always been forbidden fogging his mind with wine or any other substances reserved to complicated and special rituals or, in circumstances like these, as a welcoming gesture.

Farrokh frowns at the oracle’s words.

-Why Sibi?- he inquiries with interest. John is nervous, he fears a violent reaction from the bedouin for his little rebellion. But the other remains calm, waiting for his answer.

-W-we… c-can’t....- he answers him, so softly that he isn’t sure that Farrokh actually heard him. The man’s hand, still on his back, slowly caress his skin, absently following the natural curve of his spine mischievously sliding down to fondle just right under the iliac crests. John parts his lips at the mere sensation of those delicate touches, especially when they focus on a specific spot where his skin is more sensitive.

Farrokh narrow his eyes.

-Do you want to taste it?-

John hesitates but nods, all of a sudden the curiosity takes over his logic. He feels like a child in front of a new discovery, so fascinating and utterly alluring if held in the hands of a charming man like Farrokh. He is eagerly offering to make much more difficult to resist the temptation.

-A small sip, nothing more.- the bedouin says, keeping the cup in his hand and dangerously too close to the younger mouth. John, after a moment of utter confusion, takes courage. His fingers are compliant but he forces himself to firmly tighten his grip around the brass cup. He couldn't drop it, it would be a bad omen to waste ceremonial wine.

Farrokh stares at him eagerly, like he wanted to give him enough courage to let himself go. John only just smells the sweet scent of the liquid, he had to admit that is pretty good; when he takes the first small sip, the bedouin put two fingers under the base of the cup suggesting to try it again.

And so the younger man drinks, more this time, feeling a strange and warm sensation in his belly when he finally swallows the wine, his tongue tickling and the whole mouth numb. He sucks on his own lips finding them wet, squinting his eyes at the strange feel.

Farrokh grins, kindly mocking him, pouring it again in an unexpectedly empty goblet.

John is surprised, that action is usually reserved only to young brides, but Farrokh has shattered every single belief that the little oracle had towards him.

In front of his doubtful look, the older man nods amused.

-Drink again, Sibi. Nobody can see you except me.- he states with a sincere smile. So the youngest finds himself drinking once more, letting the aromatic liquid take over him, certainly a new and pleasant experience for him.

His body starts to go dull, a wave of heat radiates from his stomach to his fingertips, in a delicious daze that brings him to close his eyes for a moment. When he reopens them Farrokh has taken the cup from him, putting it on the side; he wants to tell him that he wants more because he started to like more the liquid and his sweet taste but the bedouin has, clearly, other plans for both of them.

-It was just a taste...- he whispers against him, John is confused, the other's words sounds like a reprimand, has he doing wrong? He feels so little all of a sudden.

He makes himself pliant, confused but not scared like he was when he had entered the room hours ago, now interest takes over and he starts to relax to the man's care.

He softly jolts when Farrokh begins to wash away the painting that still adorn his body. He touches him with devotion like he knew how much important he was and not just a beautiful object to use and then throw away.

John has his senses clouded, doesn't fight back those hands that gently touch him. Occasionally the bedouin dares to brush his shoulders with feathers kisses, John bites his lower lip trying to hold back a pleased sigh. The man's moustache feels strange against his skin, they tickle deliciously causing him to shiver.

Water between them rapidly become crimson from the patterns on the oracle's skin, small drops slide down on the young body, still immature but extremely beautiful. Farrokh cleans him up easily, so slowly that the youngest heart burst of so many new emotions. So tame in the oldest's capable hands now.

He gasps softly when the bedouin steals a light kiss on the lips when he is about to clean him on his face. He takes his chin with two fingers and rests his lips on the boy's ones.

That is enough for making him tremble all over. The young oracle put his hands on the other’s chest as if it’s the only thing that prevents him from falling. He enjoys the hairiness fluffy and soft under his fingertips, the more he observes Farrokh’s masculine body the more he realizes that he finds him very attractive. The man has wide muscular shoulders, his skin darker than his due to the desert sun and warm, really warm - or is it him who begins to feel himself suddenly blushing before these new sensations?

Patterns and painting on his body disappear, now his skin smooth and subtly glossy thanks to the oils is caressed by the bedouin’s rough hands, slowly start touching him more passionately, pulling him flush against him, so much that they have their pelvis pressed against each other.

A poorly concealed sigh escape from both of them, the older man eyes are so filled with lust that literally devours him making the youngest so willing to let him do anything when he asks for a more passionate kiss.

John has never kissed anyone, man or woman, except for those little affectionate effusions shared with Roger but that cannot be remotely comparable to the passion with which the man is pressed against him.

He tenses up slightly, instinct triggers him to jump back a bit which makes Farrokh worry; he moves away a little, only a faint breath between them while John still trembles agitated in his arms. The other's hand gently strokes his right leg, mischievously sliding until he feels the roundness of his butt.

-I won’t do anything you don’t want, sibi.- the Bedouin affirms placidly, looking him straight in the eyes without arrogance. Only honest concern for his young husband.

-I’m not an animal...-

John doesn't know how to reply, drunk with new sensations and wine's flavour still on the tip of his tongue.

Maybe he should trust him, let himself go and discover more, and that's what he does when he hesitantly reaches for the man's mouth that waits for him. John gently tilts his head to the right, his hair brushes his cheek, deliciously framing his face.

Farrokh looks at him as if he is bewitched somehow before closing his eyes and savour that tender hint of kiss that the young oracle gives him. There are uncertain and inexperienced movements, dictated by both's curiosity but neither seems to be in a hurry to speed up this moment of intimacy between them.

John breathes through his nose, tasting the softness of the Tuareg’s mouth, so plump and sweet, tastes like honey and like the sweets he most likely ate during the earlier celebrations.

In the fleeting kiss stolen in the tent before, John hadn't registered any emotion, if not fear and resentment towards his new master; but now he realizes he has never experienced anything like this.

He dares to open his mouth when he feels the tip of the other's tongue licking his lower lip, he just jolts in surprise but doesn't shy away, responding timidly to that new intrusion.

Soon the silence of the ceremonial room is broken by their heavy breaths and John's small moans and sighs, the water lapping around his body when the Bedouin's hands passionately caress him down his back.

But suddenly a high-pitched moan escapes from the youngest's throat, rumbling for an instant when he's forcefully grabbed and carried out of the water. He finds himself tightening his legs around the Tuareg's waist and lacing his arms behind his neck, while the man's hands squeeze and support his body, firmly grasping his small and soft butt. His heart fiercely beats in his chest, he's confused and he doesn't understand the reason of that gesture until he finds himself carefully resting under a light curtain, on a bed full of pillows. The only light that allows him to see his lover's face is a lamp hanging above them, thus illuminating his solid body, still slightly damp due to small drops of water on his skin. John breathes nervously while stares at him with worried eyes, but soon Farrokh is again taking care of him to make him calm down and relax under his skilled touch, kisses run down his face and his neck until he lingers of his thin chest.

He closes his eyes arching his back, offering himself willingly to the other man's desires; he trembles when the Bedouin's teeth gently bite on the small pink nipple.

John slowly opens his eyes, his eyelids now heavy. He sees Farrokh kneeling between his open legs looking for something at his side as he continues to look at him with hungry eyes. He studies his every movement when the oldest pours a generous amount of oil on his hands, a small drop falls on his flat stomach that nervously contracts waiting.

When Farrokh comes back to him, he lies down beside him, holding him tightly with one arm against him, as if he didn't want to drop him.

John holds his breath when the other's right hand slips without hesitation between his legs, slowly squeezing his perky erection.

-Have you ever slept with a man, Sibi? - he asks him in a broken short-breathed voice.

John search for words that die in his throat with each movement of Farrokh's hand around his cock; small moans continue to escape from his open and swollen lips.

His head is spinning, his body is hot and it all feels muffled, confused by those new and amazing sensations. He only manages to exhale a faint "no" sighed on Farrokh's mouth. John finds himself moaning in annoyance when his lover's hand let go of him only to be able to grab his thigh, making him bend his left leg on his side. Now John finds himself exposed, trembling like a well-stretched harp string when he feels the other's oily fingers suddenly stroking him between his buttocks.

He doesn't understand, he's dizzy from those sweet attentions. Now a high-pitched moan escapes from his lips whilst he clings himself on the Bedouin's shoulder when he feels that little hint of intrusion.

He'd like to speak or make a sound different from the continuous sighs but the man's mouth is on his and greedily devours his every breath while slow and painfully his finger makes its way into his tight flesh, making him arch against him.

He squeezes his eyes shut already feeling little tears forming under his eyelids when the finger is completely inside.

-It burns.- he hisses in a broken scared voice when his mouth is freed from his lover's fierceness, who rests his forehead against his, breathing in unison with him.

-Let me take care of you, my dear. Believe me, it will be the most beautiful thing you have ever tried. But you have to let yourself go, sibi.- he whispers, his voice deep with arousal and the thrill of finally being able to have him.

John closes his eyes again, another hot and painful shiver runs through his back making him tremble. He doesn't fight back but he tries to relax, enjoying this brand new experience.

-Trust me.- he murmurs again, pressing his chest against John's, feeling his heart against his own. A small tear falls down on the youngest's flushed cheek, that opens his eyes in shock when that finger hits a special point inside him, quickly replacing all the pain with a violent surge of pleasure.

Farrokh smiles gently, while he steals another kiss from him while enjoying the prelude to their first night together.

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

note: "sibi" is a nickname used by Farrokh on John. It roughly means "little boy"

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

Finally here we’re with the extract from the first chapter of the oracle!au. As always I thank @painkiller80​ for the translation and for those who will follow this new adventure!!

Unfortunately, we don’t know when the second piece will be ready: the chapter is already done (I’m writing the third one), we just need the time for Chiara to translate and I to be able to create the illustration.

But in the meantime I will always publish some study or illustration dedicated to this story (I still have to introduce Roger to all of you but I would say that I have time to do it before the second part). 

Having said that I hope you enjoyed it and let us know what you think!!! :D

xoxo

@stayinqpower​ @tikiniki​ @emmaandorlando​ @mephisto92​ @caminc91​ @jackolynsparrow​ @painandpleasure86​ @afangirlinthestars​ @mysleepyfreddie​ @faveimagines1977​ @deaky-disco-queen​ @deakygurl​ -Hope to have tagged everyone, in case write me to be added!:* 

[andy-loves-corgis]

Once Upon a Disaster- Ch 9 (Part 2) (NSFW) (TRR AU)

Book: The Royal Romance

Rating: NSFW

Word count: ~3,200

Notes: BRING ME ANGST, I really hope you liked, we’ll finally reveal Riley’s secret and how Drake will react to that!

Chapters list: Prologue - Skyfall, Ch 1 - A Million Years Ago, Ch 2 - Set Fire To The Rain, Ch 3 - Hello, Ch 4 - Someone Like You, Ch 5 - Rolling In The Deep, Ch 6 - Turning Tables, Ch 7 - Send My Love (To Your New Lover), Ch 8 - Best For Last, Ch 9 - When We Were Young (Part 1).

When We Were Young ( Part 2)

I was so scared to face my fears Nobody told me that you'd be here And I swear you moved overseas That's what you said, when you left me

You still look like a movie You still sound like a song My God, this reminds me Of when we were young

 .

He tried to even his breath and concentrate on the paper in his hands, it was a beautiful spring day in Paris, he sat on an armchair with the full view of the Eiffel Tower from his balcony in front of him.

“She stayed with me on my cabin the whole opera.” Liam had told him earlier, while on a meeting.

He wasn’t supposed to be jealous, god, jealousy was the very reason he didn’t want to have sex with her in the first place, and yet, on a drunk night he just couldn’t refuse her, falling deeper for her body as he was already with her mind. Still, Drake had to hear his friends voice over and over his head.

“I have a good feeling I’ll have her back” Liam smiled.

He avoided her texts and seeing her on the halls, he just needed time to think.

He was grateful for the life he had, it was clear by the way goosebumps erupted from his skin seeing the Eiffel Tower, he was grateful, very grateful for everything his friendship with Liam had given him, but should he give up on the only thing he ever wanted for himself?

He loosened his tie, pulling through his head and discarding it on the side of his chair, feeling he could breathe a bit better.

Either way, he couldn’t stop thinking about what she was doing at his cabin at the Opera.

Drake had never asked her to be with him, the closer she was, the harder he pushed, until he pulled her, he kissed her, he had her. And now they passed the point of no return.

He was jealous. He missed her.

“You’re mad at me.” He heard her voice at the door behind him, it wasn’t a question, she was just stating what it was.

He didn’t answer her, hoping she would leave, his heart beating hard in his chest, he heard the door clicking shut bit still felt her presence behind his chair.

Riley rested a hand on the top of the chair back, standing by his side.

“You are wearing a suit, were you in a meeting?” Her voice was low, sultry, he could barely look at her, just nodding.

Towering over him, in all her glory. Riley’s chocolate curls were loose falling on her chest, she was wearing a light black dress that could be mistaken for a simple cotton nightgown, he noticed she wasn’t wearing a bra..

“What are you reading?” She asked again in a low tone, her gaze giving him goosebumps.

“The news.” His voice was cracked and rough.

“Oh” she feigned surprise, pulling the sides of the paper from his hand to open a space so she could sit on his lap. “Can I read the news too?”

He could barely breathe, her back was pressing entirely on his chest, her hips pressing on his cock, which made him hard within minutes.

“Sure” he answered clearing his throat.

Drake was silent as she kept her eyes on the paper, whispering words in French from time to time while rolling her hips painfully slowly. He turned his head to look at her, his stubble scratching the skin on her elbows, she closed her eyes and sighed.

Riley adjusted herself on his laps, increasing the pressure on his cock, making Drake close his eyes and grab the arms of the chair so hard he thought he would tear the fabric, she sighed letting the paper rest on her lap, looking at him under those long lashes.

But Drake wanted, no, he needed to resist, she wasn’t his after all. He had her in the darkest of the night, it felt wrong to have her there, under the spring light, sun kissing her bare feet.

“You’re so tense, Drake.” She murmured near the corner of his mouth. “You need to relax.”

Riley covered his hands with hers and deliberately rolled her hips on his dick, his chin resting on her shoulder, a soft moan escaping through her lips.

Temptress.

His will power faded once she nuzzled his cheek and her hand traveled to her back to grab his bulge. Throwing his head back, he heard her moan again while rubbing his hard length. Riley shifted a little to have more space to unbuckle his belt and free his length while his lips lightly brushed the skin of her neck and jaw.

When she first stroked him, he fisted and pulled the fabric of her dress around her ribcage, one large breast escaping from the cleavage, his hand instantly darted up to grab and free the one still covered. Oh, how he loved her breasts.

They were on a lazy exploring, his lips and tongue drawing patterns on her breast as she kept stroking him languidly. His hands moved to her knees, fingertips brushing on her thighs, thumbs hooking on the side of her underwear and dragging it down very slowly, her soft moans were music to his ears..

Once it was dangling on her calf, she rose her hips to position his cock on her entrance without even letting his fingers stretch her.

“I need you” She whispered before her breath hitched at the feeling of his tip stretching her walls.

They moaned together, as Drake watched the blush creeping from her neck to her cheeks, she was so tight and moved painfully slow, savoring every inch of him, worshiping him.

That was when his lips crashed on hers.

“Should we take this to my bed?” he roughly whispered on her ear.

“No” she half-moaned half-answered, shutting her eyes as his fingers reached for her clit. “I wanna see the Eiffel Tower as you pound inside me.”

He lost all his sanity with that, grabbing a nipple between his teeth, sucking it until it peaked, his fingers working on her center as she writhed flustered on his cock.

“Come for me” he commanded on a low tone.

“Oh fuck” she breathed intertwining her fingers with his as her body convulsed, and he felt her juices coating his dick.

He kept moving and her moans filled the room. He wanted time to freeze so they could spend the rest of their lives tangled in that chair, looking in each other’s eyes as his dick slid in and out of her.

Drake’s fingers found her center again and her eyes were pleading.

“I can’t... not again” but she was already breathing faster, his other hand rolling her nipple.

“Yes, you can” he murmured in her lips “I want to feel you come again, my love.”

The las word broke her and she spasmed so hard his cock escaped from her insides, prompting her to get up on her wobbly legs to turn around and straddle him.

Once again he moved slowly to savor the feeling of her swollen wall still clenching around him, capturing her bottom lip and entwining their fingers he breathed her moans along with his, feeling the climax build inside him, he surged forward to rest his face on her breasts, his tongue flickering her nipple, she moaned loud when he spilled himself hot and heavy inside her.

“Tell me I’m yours” she sighed.

“You’re mine.”

 “Uncle Drake?” Bartie’s soft voice startled him. “What do you think?”

Drake mumbled an apology and focused once again on the paper in his hand, Bartie had drawn the Eiffel Tower, a pretty good drawing for a six-year-old.

“It looks amazing, kid!” He said tousling his nephew’s hair.

“Do you think Lady York will like it?” Bartie sounded eager and Drake was taken aback.

“Lady York? Why?” He asked.

“Her drawings are beautiful, she is too.” the boy blushed instantly.

“Heh, she will love it, ask your mom to show her at the party today” Drake laughed, because of course fate would make his nephew amazed by that woman.

After seeing Maxwell with Adelaide, he had retreated to his room and would probably be drinking if it wasn’t for the bad timing of his nephew.

Exhaling loudly, he made his way to the shower, a terrible feeling rising in his guts that this Beaumont Bash wasn’t going to end well.

People would think that by now Drake would be used to royal balls, but the truth was that even though Liam made him a Sir all those years ago, he felt a stranger there, there were only two things that he used to find solace on: whisky and her.

She hadn’t spared him a second glance once she arrived, she was wearing a rose gold silk dress making her creamy skin glow, well, at least he had whisky.

“Ask her to dance” Liam was beside him, in his gala suit, glaring at him from the side of his eyes.

“We need to talk, not dance.” Drake took another sip from his whisky, she was laughing graciously with Maxwell and a group of foreign investors, he had forgotten how poised and fit for this place she was.

The radiant smile, small curtsies, the glow of the candles on her dress.

He felt 27 again.

“I knew you would change your mind.” Liam chuckled as Drake rose from his seat at the bar.

“If we’re dancing, she can’t run” he shrugged and marched towards her.

Her eyes met his briefly, then turned back to the group, fidgeting with her rings.

“Can I have this dance, Lady York?” he asked in the politest way, bowing slightly, so she couldn’t refuse in front of everybody.

Maxwell grinned, his cheeks blushing lightly when he met Drake’s eyes.

“Of course,” her smile was uncertain, but she accepted his hand anyway whispering to him. “Drake Walker dancing, what universe am I in?”

He ignored her, leading her silently to the dance floor as a waltz just began.

“You know we need to talk right?” he told her, who refused to look at him. “About that night.”

“We are grown-ups, Drake.” She stared at him after he spun her. “We know how these things are… hey, you’re good at this!”

“People change, York.” Their palms connected, facing each other while making a perfect circle on the dance floor. “So, let’s be practical, we slept together.”

“I know, I was there… and conscious” she avoided his gaze.

“We didn’t use any protection as I remember…” he watched as she choked and blushed.

“I’m on the pill.” She said clearing her throat.

“I hope it’s not like you were back then, missing it every other day…” she rolled her eyes and he turned her back to him, being very careful not to let her affect his body.

“I was young and stupid” she turned back to glare at him and their lips almost touched, she turned her head back so fast her neck almost cracked. “I take it religiously and didn’t miss it after our…encounter.”

He turned her back, so he could face her, her eyes burning him in anticipation, what else he could say to her.

“May I cut in?” both heads turned to see Kiara with a mechanical smile beside them.

“Absolutely!” Riley smiled relieved, distancing herself from Drake without looking at him.

Kiara took her place, pressing her body completely into his.

“I can see you are friends now. Oui?” She started, her nostrils flaring.

“What are you doing here Kiara?” he tediously spun her. “You said you would stay in England for over a month, preparing your wedding.”

“Didn’t you miss me?” she purred making his eyes roll. “I came for a couple of days, just to see you.”

Before he could think of anything to say the music was over. He simply kissed her knuckles and left.

“Who’s ready to get the party started?” Maxwell’s drunk voice blew on the dance floor.

The lights dimmed, and an electronic beat filled the room. He needed to get away

“Hey brother” he heard his sister’s voice beside him. “Have you seen Bartie? He was upset with something and I need to put him to sleep?”

It was the perfect excuse not to meet Kiara again, he wasn’t sure of how to handle her.

“Hey you” Maxwell’s voice filled his ears above the music. “In 15 minutes I’ll get everyone together for a little drinking game! It’s not a Beaumont Bash without our clique and a little drinking game.”

Drake nodded just to make him leave, it was his cue to escape to the corridor, he walked aimlessly until he heard sniffs and a female voice. On a poorly lit music room, Bartie’s small legs dangling from the piano seat, while Riley knelt on the ground, he kept in the shadows watching the interactions.

“… they don’t deserve you.” She soothed him.

“They say I’m just like my uncle, a commoner, and they want nothing to do with me.” The boy sniffed again, and her hands reached to dry his cheeks.

“Your uncle is a hero.” Riley said still holding his cheek. “Did you know that when you were just a baby, he was shot trying to protect me?”

“What?” Bartie squeaked surprised. “Was he your bodyguard?”

“No, no”, she laughed lightly.

“Why would he take a bullet for you, then?” he asked puzzled.

“Well… Your uncle and I used to care very much about each other” she cleared her throat uncomfortably.

“So why you’re not married like mom and dad?” Bartie cocked his head.

“Speaking about them…” Drake got out of the shadows, surprising them. “Your mom is waiting to tuck you on your bed, kiss Lady Riley goodnight, and go”

“Will you kiss her too?” he asked and then stormed off the room.

“Kids…” he awkwardly stated, offering her a hand, so she could get back at her feet.

For a second their eyes met, in the dark, with only the moonlight she felt familiar to him, like when they were younger.

“There you are” Maxwell cheerfully appeared at the door. “This place is perfect for our game.”

He got in with one bottle of vodka and one of whisky, Liam, Olivia, Kiara, Penelope and Madeleine following behind him.

“What is she doing here?” Riley hissed at Madeleine while Maxwell put the bottle and the shot glasses on a big oak table.

“I couldn’t get rid of her.” He thought he was whispering, but everybody could hear him. “She’s like a cockroach!”

“Don’t be silly. The night wouldn’t be complete without me, you know that, Max” she feigned happiness taking her seat.

“Your Majesty, you’re breastfeeding, you can’t drink…” Kiara pointed out. From her seat next to Drake.

“I’ll have water and keep the order, so you won’t make a mess of yourselves” the queen rolled her eyes.

“Well, now everybody is in place, take your glasses and your poison of choice.” Max sloppily slipped the glasses to everyone. “You all know how to play Never Have I Ever Right?”

“Yeah, that one where Penelope and Hana found out they liked pussy” Madeleine sneered, and Riley fisted her hands on the table.

“Uh… well, I’ll start.” Maxwell tried to lighten the mood. “Never have I ever been to Cordonia.”

Everybody rolled their eyes and drank. Liam volunteered next.

“Never have I ever been in love.” He eyed Olivia who rolled her eyes at him.

“You’re too sappy today, my king” she sipped her water, all of them following, except Madeleine.

“Never have I ever had sex with an ex.” Kiara blurted staring at Riley, who rose an eyebrow at her, Drake closed his eyes in annoyance.

Maxwell, Liam, Drake and Riley drank.

“I’m sorry for the boyfriend you left in New York, Riley!” Penelope’s drunk voice filled the room, Drake looking puzzled at her.

“Let’s make this game more interesting.” Madeleine said venomously. “Never have I ever got knocked up by a king.”

All heads turned to her, no one understanding her question.

“Are you so dumb you didn’t hear I’m not playing?” Olivia shot at her.

“You’re not the only one, right Riley?” everyone turned to Riley, who looked genuinely lost.

“You’re insane, Madeleine.” She turned her head looking for help.

“Never have I ever had sex with a king” Kiara’s voice was low, spiteful.

Olivia’s head turned to Riley inquisitively.

“God, everybody knows I’ve slept with Liam” Riley let her fists fall on the table as she shot another glass.

“How many times?” Olivia asked, her face stone cold.

“Liv, we talked about that…” Liam’s hands rubbed his eyes.

“Enough for her to get pregnant and have an abortion in the US, I bet that’s why she left actually.” A victorious smile spreading on Madeleine’s face, Drake’s head spinning.

“That’s a lie!” Riley got flared up. “Last time I slept with Liam was at his coronation. He wasn’t even king yet, I don’t even know why I drank anyway.”

“You were the King’s whore. Everybody knew that.” Madeleine continued. “I got your records from your little trip to the hospital two months after you flew to New York.”

Riley was gripping the edge of the table like her life depended on it.

“It said miscarriage, but you know how it’s easy to change a little word with some money. Right dear?” Every head turning from Riley to Madeleine.

Drake felt like his insides churn.

“Is this true?” his voice was rough, he didn’t sound like himself.

“Tell them, bitch!” Madeleine sneered.

He could see the tears pooling on her eyes and his stomach sank.

“Never have I ever… got so drunk I lost a baby I didn’t even know I was carrying.” She closed her eyes and two fat tears streamed down her face. “One conceived on a careless, beautiful Parisian afternoon.”

Her wet eyes met Drakes for a brief second.

“Oh yeah. I did!” she blurted, throwing her head back to drown the cup with amber liquid, before rising from her seat, her lips quivering, she shot one last look at them and stormed off the room.

Kiara tried to grab his hand, but he yanked it from her grasp, his heart was beating so fast, his chest constricting, he didn’t even know how he could run after her.

“Riley!” he called, and she stopped, her whole body trembling.

“What, Drake? What the hell do you want? Can’t you just… ugh!” she gritted her teeth to keep from sobbing.

He tried to reached her, but she stepped back, bracing herself.

“What did you mean there? You talked about Paris… you… we…” the words flashed in his mind along with their tangled limbs and intertwined fingers.

“What did I MEAN? For real?” her eyes were red, she looked helpless, alone, desperate. “Five years ago, I lost a baby, Drake, OUR baby… For God’s sake, just leave me alone to once again pick up my pieces by myself.”

Drake couldn’t move, he watched as she left in slow motion, his hand supporting him on the wall, then his back. His knees gave up on him right after, making him slide to the ground, his heart beating so strong he could hear it beating, as opposed to his child’s, which stopped beating long ago.

He lost himself to the tears.

.

They will talk next chapter, I promise you!

Tagging: @drakewalkerrosenberg @agent-bossypants@silviasutton1989 @speedyoperarascalparty@damienazario@mymandrake @thewalkerway @endlesschange@rtinas @mrswalkers-blog @mrsdrakewalkerblog@client327@greyeyedsmile14 @lynn1214@thequeenchoices@innerpostmentality @stopforamoment@blackwidow2721@butindeed @annekebbphotography@choicesmacmakes  @ooo-barff-ooo  @pug-bitch  @boneandfur@llholloway @ blubutterflyy@traeumerinwitzhelden@naginawsevif @rtinas @mind-reader1 @barbaravalentino@walkerismychoice @sleepwalkingelite @bruhvs @ao719@likethetailofacomet @ao719 @fluffy-marshmallow-heart @carabeth

[ialwayscomewhenyoucall]

‘til Midnight

chapter 4/5

ao3 | ch 1 | ch 2 | ch 3

twelve x rose, Into the Dalek coda

“Come on,” says the Doctor, breaking their silence. It’s a comfortable one this time. “Drink up. I make good hot cocoa, you know. Only the best ingredients.” As he talks he mops up the mess; in keeping with the diner theme there’s a silver dispenser of napkins on one edge of the table, flanked by salt and pepper shakers. It’s a ridiculous setup, but he’s thankful for the heat of Rose pressed up against his side, her hand resting lightly on his thigh. Yes, he’ll thank his TARDIS later. She’s a good ship. Pushy, but good. “You know, vanilla from the Chantor highlands on Rina’s third moon, sugar from Turees 9, cinnamon from Odom Goe.”

Rose looks at him quizzically. “What about the cocoa?”

He gives her an ‘are you kidding me’ look as he stretches his arm across the back of the booth. “Earth, of course. Do you honestly think there’s better chocolate anywhere in the universe?”

She laughs, and he buzzes with the the feel of her body against his side.

“Right.” She leans her head on his shoulder and takes a sip of her cocoa. “Mmm, that is good. Not quite what mum used to make, but you remembered the cinnamon.”

He doesn’t tell her he stopped putting cinnamon in cocoa after she left, that just the smell of cinnamon was too painful a memory. And after today...well, we’re in the present now, aren’t we? Let’s not think about tomorrow.

Four hours, seven minutes, forty three seconds, forty two seconds, forty one seconds…

He sips his cocoa.

Kissing the crown of her head, he murmurs into her hair, “I did mean to get marshmallows, you know. Shall I?”

“Don’t you dare move.”

He chuckles. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Warm and content, Rose sighs and snuggles closer. After a few minutes her breathing evens, her heart rate begins to slow, her muscles begin to relax, one by one. He thinks back to the time of day and her job at Torchwood on the parallel earth, and then takes a measure of the exhaustion he’s noticed in her thus far. Softly the Doctor says, “Rose, how long have you been awake?”

She blinks up at him, and he can see the fogginess in her thoughts. “Um. Twenty… uh, twenty-two hours? Twenty-three? Give or take.” Her smile is sweet, more than half asleep already.

He stands and scoops her into his arms all in one motion; quite a feat, considering the ridiculous booth. She gives a little shriek of a laugh.

“Let’s get you to bed.”

“Why, Doctor,” she says coyly, wrapping her arms around his neck and batting her eyes at him.

He freezes mid-step, nearly dropping her. “Rose,” he says, attempting to keep his voice as even, as gentle, as possible. “My Rose. You need to sleep.”

She struggles in his arms, panicking. “I don’t want to sleep, Doctor! I don’t have much time left! There’s not enough time!” She’s crying again, clutching at his shirt and pounding a fist on his chest. His hearts constrict. She sobs softly into his neck, tears soaking his collar, repeating over and over, “Not enough time… Not enough time…”

He sits her on the tabletop and takes her face in his hands. “There is time enough for us, Rose. There is.”

There isn’t. Not for him anyway. No matter when he says goodbye to her it’s going to break his hearts, but he has to make her believe what he’s saying. There is time enough for Rose and the Doctor, just not this Doctor, just not in this now… Every word he speaks feels like self-betrayal, but it’s all for her. She is all that matters.

“I need you to trust me. I promise I won’t let you sleep too long, but you’re done in. You need at least an hour. Can you trust me to wake you up?” He looks into her teary eyes, draws her close; he does not break eye contact as he gently kisses her lips. “I will not let you disappear while you are asleep. I will not.”

She relaxes, just a bit. “Alright. Take me to bed, Doctor.” She re-buries her face in his neck.

He groans inwardly. He’s almost certain it’s a sleepy, innocent remark, but his body can’t help but react. Is she trying to destroy him? She’s certainly trying to destroy his resolve.

Again he cradles her in his arms. She keeps her arms around his neck, one hand absently running through the hair at the nape of his neck. He can feel her breath against the skin of his throat. Once again a small part of his brain says “think of something else, think of frog slime in June, think of that time you climbed the same mountainside for thirty hours before you realized you were being misdirected,” but the louder part shrieks, “shut up shut up, treasure every moment of this; breathe her scent while you can, memorize the weight of her in your arms, because soon she will disappear and you will never see her again you idiot.”

In the end it’s no contest. Rose is here, and soon she will be gone, and every moment matters. Even the ones that bring exquisite pain.

Rose must be more awake than she seems, because he hears a muffled, “Doctor, you passed my room.”

“Yes.”

Soon she’s going to think that’s the only word he knows. Either that or she’s going to figure out that he’s avoiding certain subjects. This time he doesn’t want to explain that he’s taking her to his room. Or, actually, he doesn’t want to explain why he’s taking her to his room. They’d fallen asleep together in her bed before, many times. After a taxing adventure, after a long evening watching movies in the TARDIS, sometimes just because. He’d walk her back to her room, tuck her into her bed, and just...stay. But she’d never even seen his room. So he’s taking her there now, and tucking her into his bed. Partly so she can have the memory, but mostly so he can. So when she’s gone he can bury his face in a pillow that once cradled Rose’s head, so he can feel the ghost of her beside him, so he can imagine the sound of her breath and heartbeat echoing in his space.

Her scent won’t linger long, but he has a good memory.

Rose’s breath catches when she realizes where they are. Eyes wide, she says “You know, all that time we traveled together, I sometimes wondered if you actually had a bed of your own. You slept in my bed. You fell asleep in the library when you were really tired. That one time you fell asleep on a table on that human colony...Elizabeth, was it? But that was because there was ginger in the pie and you didn’t realize and you had all that wine and…” She can’t finish the story, she’s too overcome by giggles. It doesn’t matter, he remembers. And of course she’d fixate on that time he was drunk. He huffs. She giggles again, then continues. “But in all our time together you never said, ‘I’m off to bed’ or anything like that.”

Standing her on her feet, the Doctor rests a palm on Rose’s cheek. “It’s not a place I often bring people. Not ever, really. I come here to sleep, which is rare, or to think. It reminds me of home, and that’s not always a good thing. Not since the Time War, anyway. If I hadn’t lost y--” Pain flashes across his face, and her giggles disappear in an instant, replaced by heartache that mirrors his own. “But I did, so you never got to see this room. But now you’re here. With me.” He nods toward a doorway off to the side. “Washroom’s in there. I’ll bet the TARDIS put some pajamas in there for you.”

She blinks at him a few times, eyes wet with unshed tears, then rises on her tiptoes to brush the ghost of a kiss on his lips. Then she’s gone, disappearing through the doorway to change.

He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

When she slips out again a few minutes later she’s wearing soft blue pajamas, a set she’d worn when she traveled with him before. She’s fingering the edge of the tank top, and he can almost see the memories passing through her mind.

Resurfacing from her memories, she looks up to see the Doctor leaning against his bed. Apparently she hadn’t properly noticed it before. Her eyes nearly pop out of her head. “Doctor! That bed! It’s...it’s gigantic! It’s bigger than the entire room I had growing up. And are those actually stairs leading up to it?!”

“Well it’s not an entire staircase, just three steps,” he scoffs. “And while I’ll admit it’s large, I think you’re exaggerating a bit about the size. It is nice for stretching out in, though. I am sometimes rather tall.” He shrugs.

Rose crosses the space between them and wraps her arms around his waist, folding herself into his embrace. “Never stop surprising me, Doctor,” she whispers.

Oh, the metacrisis will be a surprise, he thinks, but quickly pushes that out of his mind. Here. Now. That’s what Rose wants.

“Into bed,” he says, and swings her up onto the soft mattress.

She squeaks in surprise.

“An hour, then?” he asks, automatically returning her smile.

“You’re stayin’, aren’t you?” She looks almost hurt.

“Of course. I won’t leave you.”

She looks at him like he’s daft. “I meant up here, Doctor. Stayin’ up here, in this bed, with me. I won’t go to sleep unless you’re holdin’ me.”

Just look at that stubborn face, those exhausted, shining eyes. How can he say no?

The tension in his shoulders eases the tiniest bit. “Then hold you I shall, my Rose.” He drapes his coat across the back of a nearby chair, toes off his shoes, and climbs the steps up to his bed. He’s not at all surprised to see she’s settled into the pillow he always sleeps on. She always seems to know these things. His hearts speed up just thinking that even for a short time his pillow will smell like Rose. Sliding across the bed and under the heavy quilt he pulls her body against his, her back pressing against his chest, his face buried in her hair. For a long moment they stay like this, just memorizing each other.

Rose breaks the silence. “Doctor, if I had a bed this comfortable I’d never leave it.”

“Superior--”

“Biology, yeah, I know,” she interrupts with a sleepy giggle. “But still…”

It’s his turn to interrupt her. “Sleep. The longer you stay awake the more anxious I get. Your fragile human body…” He runs fingertip along her bare arm and she shivers. He clears his throat. “Sorry. I forget myself.” He tries to put a bit of space between them but she pushes against him, and no words are needed.

He sighs, and he isn’t sure if it’s frustration or joy. Maybe it’s both.

“Alright.” His voice is low, soothing. He can tell from her breathing that she is nearly asleep. “I’ll wake you in an hour. I promise.”

Three hours, forty-four minutes, fifty-seven seconds, fifty-six seconds, fifty-five seconds…

“Just don’t leave me,” she mumbles.

“Never again,” he lies.

**

for @doctorroseprompts 31 Days of Ficmas || day 31 - midnight