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cannedsoupsucks · 3 years ago

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This goes beyond desire... this is carnality at it's finest

watch your step (7)

Pairing: TF Boys x F!Reader Wordcount: 14.6K Warnings: gore. alcohol/drug abuse. kidnapping. eventual reverse harem. drunk smut. insecurities. frankie being a dick. benny being a king. Summary: Ben takes her out. A/N: wow this has been the longest time i've taken between chapters. truly sorry. i just have been all over the place and this is one i definitely wanted to get right. many thanks to @frannyzooey again and again for her editing/advice/support. i'd be a mess without her aid. the song i specifically feature in this chapter is Bob Moses's "Tearing Me Up". I got the inspo from this scene in Netflix's White Lines.

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Two weeks. Two fucking weeks and she thought she was losing her mind.

Frankie had completely avoided her. He’d left her half-naked on her bedroom floor. Still shuddering from the stretch of him. Still recovering from the heaviness of his body. His heat. She felt a distinct emptiness from his loss. Ripples in his wake.

She stared at the stain on her carpet. It was rust-red - nearly brown. She’d been unable to get it out and she’d finally brought in the big guns.

Will cocked his head before crouching to the floor. He rubbed at his jaw - beard rasping across his palm. “Did your legs open up or something?”

Something like that.

Her skin flushed at the memory. She’d never confess it and she highly doubted Frankie had told the guys anything. They treated her the same. There were no shared furtive glances or deliberate innuendo.

“Yes,” she said. “I’m sorry I took so long to ask you. I just - I don’t know, I must have forgotten about it.”

She had absolutely not forgotten about it. She studied that stain like it was a piece of art she could not process. She thought it a reminder that she wanted to keep. She wanted to know that what happened between Frankie and her had in fact happened.

Saying that she had forgotten about it seemed like a flimsy excuse. It was quite blatant against the cream weave of the carpet. A dark smudge. A mistake. After Frankie continued to avoid her, she had finally needed it erased. It gradually became a punch to the gut every time she saw it. She’d tried her best to clean it herself, but it only smudged - only spread its edges outward into pale pink.

Will frowned at her. “How are they healing?”

That was so Will. He could care less about the fact that she had pretty much ruined her carpet on purpose. She bent down and lifted one of her leggings to show him. The cuts were there, but faint. They no longer hurt.

He reached out and traced the lines scattered over her skin. His touch was warm and gentle. It was almost unbearable.

“They look better,” he said in a soft voice. She nodded and then shoved the fabric back down. She stepped away from him and climbed onto her bed where Tom slept soundly.

“Thank you for doing this,” she said, hoping it would break the tension that had now swelled in the air. There was always a thick tension: cobwebs of electricity binding them together. She had watched him kill and, still, she felt goosebumps of pleasure split her skin whenever he pinned her with one of those tenderly amused expressions.

He cleared his throat before lifting the bottle of bluish liquid that he’d come in with. He shook it a couple times before pouring it over the stain.

“What’s that?”

“Baking soda, dish soap and hydrogen peroxide,” he answered without looking up. He was focused - zeroing in on the carpet with his lower lip stuck between his teeth. He whipped out a brush device from his back pocket and began to scrub the liquid into the stain.

She tried to avoid gawking at him, but it was no use. His wheat-blond hair was tugged into a knot revealing the jut of his cheekbone. Her eyes roved over the muscles bunching in his back. His white t-shirt did nothing to hide all that definition. She could imagine being spread out beneath him - her nails biting in his shoulders before sliding down to clutch at the solid flesh around his ribs. She still recalled what he’d told her - what he’d promised her. She had yet to act on it. She already felt guilty enough that she fucked Frankie. That had been a mistake. It had been the heat of the moment. It had been a few minutes of insanity.

She glanced at Tom who was now peeking at her with one tiny black eye.

“Don’t judge,” she mouthed and his blush-pink tongue darted out.

Truthfully - she didn’t want to hook up with Will because she was terrified that he’d leave her like Frankie did. She wondered if she had played this all wrong. They were men who had sex served to them on a weekly basis. She was just this forbidden fruit they couldn’t touch and so of course they flirted with her. Perhaps once he’d fuck her, he’d be over it. She’d be something he had expunged from his system.

Frankie had bruised her ego. He’d rammed it into the dirt and thoroughly crushed it with his boot for good measure.

She’d slept in after they’d had sex. She’d practically drugged herself with melatonin because her skin was still vibrating - her legs and cunt ached and sleep would not come to her. When she’d finally awoken mid-afternoon - there had been a pale purple box on her nightstand. She knew what it was just by the damn color scheme.

Plan-B.

Emergency contraception.

Wonderful. She was mortified. She was completely ashamed.

Frankie had no doubt snuck into her room and left it there. She’d promptly burst into tears, which she would never fucking admit to anyone. She’d turned onto her stomach and shoved her face into her pillow and crumpled like a tissue. She hadn’t cried over a guy screwing her over in years and it had been one of Sioban’s golden rules: never let them see you cry.

That along with don’t mix benzos with alcohol unless you’re lying on a flat surface.

While she had sobbed in front of the men numerous times already, she had decided that those really didn’t count. Those were reasonable breakdowns. Those were about life and death and existential crises.

Frankie discovering that he had absolutely annihilated her self-esteem was unthinkable. That applied to all of them. She’d die if they knew.

“Finished,” he announced, standing up. “That mixture can sit there for a couple hours and then we can wash it.”

She smiled at him.

Tom barked excitedly - wiggling in her arms as he desperately tried to reach the man standing by her bed. A grin split Will’s pink lips and it was truly heartbreaking. He was so good looking it made her teeth hurt.

“Better pick him up before he freaks. You’re like the animal whisperer.”

Will swept Tom into his arms - scratching his neck and ears. “I like animals. They’re loyal.”

“You have obviously never had a cat.”

“I could make a cat loyal,” he shrugged. “It just takes a bit of patience.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Animals are very dependable. It’s why I use pigs for half of my disposals.”

She sat up - allowing that to sink in. She shouldn’t be surprised. He’d mentioned a pig farm off-hand once. Benny had, too. She didn’t know why he still managed to surprise her when he had only ever been upfront about who he was. Will was a killer and yet she could so easily forget that fact as he cleaned her carpet on his hands and knees - as he cuddled a small, yipping puppy.

His gaze was fixed on her. His expression unreadable. His eyes were that shade of a storm-tossed sea. Light at the surface, but churning dark and foggy beneath the ripple of pale foam. His lips twitched. Her skin grew hot.

He reminded her of Gabriel or Apollo. This man with all his golden handsomeness. His features could appear so cruel before something made him laugh and they became a completely different shade of beauty.

Fuck - she was so into him that it was borderline-disturbing. She didn’t want to fuck it up. She didn't want to take hold of that string between them and have his end rip away.

“Funny,” he muttered as he stepped closer.

“What’s funny?” He took the hand not holding Tom and palmed her cheek. With his thumb - he slowly stroked over the place between her brows.

“You used to get these lines here if I ever mentioned something about my work. You’d scrunch your face up.”

“Did I?”

“Yeah,” he husked and then dragged his hand just a little lower to grasp the hinge of her jaw. He took his thumb again and rubbed it over her lower lip. She was melting - going to liquid right in the deep of her core.

He was warm. He was so warm all over. She wanted to press her face into his broad chest. She wanted him to kiss her. He leaned forward just enough before he paused. There it was - he was waiting for her to close the gap. He had put the decision in her hands.

“That after tonight - if you still want me to - I’ll fuck you.”

She did want to. She wanted it too much and therein lied the problem.

There was the possibility that he’d never look at her like this again. If she gave in - if he fucked her then the myth of her could crumple - could break apart and she’d no longer be this prize to be won. She didn’t want to lose him.

She sat back on her heels and disappointment twisted his gorgeous face. Tom struggled in his grip as he tried for the bed and Will let him go. She needed to puncture the tension.

“So,” she said. “Can I make you dinner as payment?”

***

In the last two weeks, she had gone out of her way to cook the boys delicious meals. Not for them, but for her. She was so anxious over Frankie that she wanted to fill her days prepping and chopping and only thinking about measurements and fresh produce. She lacked for nothing. She’d write a list and they’d supply whatever she wanted.

Pope had even started to come try the things she made. Of course, he’d bring it back into his office, but he still seemed to enjoy her food. He’d lean nonchalantly against the counter as he tasted it. The corner of his mouth quirking at the flavor as he chewed.

“Good?” she’d asked.

“Good.” And then he’d grab a plate and disappear into the hallway.

Kimchi fried chicken. Saffron-spiced bouillabaisse. Beef bourguignon. Salted caramel pots de crème. Flakey buttery dinner rolls. Dan Dan noodles. Strawberry and cream layer cake. Cornmeal waffles with banana bourbon syrup. A homemade hamburger helper that Benny took into his room and refused to share.

She’d had a lot of time on her hands.

She walked over to the fridge with Tom at her heels. He’d become very attached to her - often curling up right at her feet as she cooked. Will leaned over the island - dropping his elbows against the wood butcher block to observe her.

“Can I help?”

She spun around tossing a chunk of parmesan on the counter. “Not really,” she said. “You can grab me a box of pasta out of the cabinet.”

“Which one?”

She felt a twinge of delight at that. Will had always called pasta spaghetti, regardless of type, and she’d gone into an entire lecture about the variety and which went with sauce.

There’s tons! Bucatini, penne, fusilli, farfalle, rigatoni, tagliatelle, ziti, orecchiette -

Okay, okay I get it.

“Spaghetti or linguine,” she replied. “Whichever one you want.”

He tossed her the box and she placed it next to the cheese along with the pepper mill.

“That’s all you need?”

“It’s cacio e pepe! It’s ridiculously easy.” She put a pot of salted water on the burner and then grabbed a pan so she could start toasting the ground pepper.

They slipped into an easy silence. She could feel Will’s eyes on her - raking over her hands as she stirred the starchy pasta water, pecorino, and black pepper with the noodles. They did this a lot and it had become routine. She’d never had company this often. She had always been alone - incredibly isolated as she burrowed into that old house with her mother. She had only ever cooked for herself. Her mother had subsisted on saltines - chewing them to a gloopy pale mush and washing them down with a slosh of vodka. In the penthouse’s gorgeous kitchen, that life seemed far away. It seemed coated in a thick film of dust and one that she had no intention of cleaning off. She didn’t want to go back there.

As she passed Will a bowl of pasta, she leaned forward, pressing her chest across the island to watch him eat it up close. He took a bite and his face dissolved into pleasure.

“So good,” he hummed as he stuffed another forkful into his mouth. She grinned, spinning around to lick the salty buttery sauce off the wooden spoon. Benny would be here any minute and probably starving. He had to be fed every hour or he went all gremlin.

“So I overheard you guys talking about retribution,” she remarked casually. She had been sufficiently kept at arm's length when it came to whatever politics the boys were dealing with. She knew that Frankie had made a move that Santi had not blessed. She knew that he’d acted out on her behalf, which felt strange. He’d gone out of his way to avenge her and then treated her like she wasn’t even there. The day after their tryst, she’d heard Santi yelling at him in his office followed by Frankie’s low retorts.

“Are you going after Baron?”

“Yes,” Will said carefully. “But we are playing it safe right now. The situation is delicate.”

She chewed thoughtfully and then made a comment that she sort of meant as a joke and sort of didn’t. “What if he wins? Would he chop me up? Blow torch my face like in Hostel?”

Will abruptly dropped his fork and it clattered in his bowl. “What the hell? No! Who have you been talking to?”

“Frankie said he’s psychotic.”

“A lot of people say I’m psychotic.”

“Yeah, but - they don’t know you.”

“I torture people, Faire,” he said bluntly. “That’s what I do - what I’m good at.” He picked up his fork again.“And I’ve used a blow torch.”

She absorbed that revelation. It didn’t bother her like it should have. She had begun to see Will as he was in the penthouse. She saw him taking care of her when she’d cut herself. She saw him when he wedged himself between her knees and took her face in his hands and kissed her. All of Will’s previous actions had become flushed with a blurred filter. She couldn’t touch them

- taste them. She didn’t see Ironhead. She saw Will.

It could be a form of Stockholm syndrome. It could simply be that she could not remain in a state of permanent fear and anxiety because her mind would surely break under the pressure.

They had been kind to her and they had given her a reason for it. She didn’t have the emotional capacity to be terrified of the men when she had Santi’s brother after her.

She bit her lip. “All jokes aside - do you think he’d really make it hurt? Like would it not be quick?”

The second the words left her mouth, there was a subtle shift in Will’s features. His eyes darkened - his lips thinning to a hard line as his jaw clenched. He leaned toward her.

“I wouldn’t let him touch you,” he stated in a serious voice. “That won’t happen.”

He declared it like it was law - like it was an absolute truth. She wanted to tell him that he couldn’t promise her anything. She’d told that to Frankie. No one could promise her safety. No one was a hundred percent in full control of her life or her death.

He should know that, but she found herself unable to say it.

***

Frankie was spiraling, Benny thought.

He’d been acting strangely ever since he went full Liam Neeson down at The Wharf. He’d gone out nearly every night - slithering through the clubs - the casinos - their many bars. He was brooding. He was pissed. His skin on tight as if hooks were pierced into his back and stretching him to his breaking point.

“I’m worried,” Santi told him. He was sitting across from Ben in his office. The cityscape rose and fell at his back. The dying sun illuminated the skyscrapers and the bridge over the bay. There was a dull orange in the light. Autumn was coming. “He hasn’t been like this since the wreck.”

Since the wreck…

It was a mass of memory that collided into Ben when Santi brought that up. He was so good at burying it and with one word, it felt as if a meteor had crashed into him - knocking him off his axis. He cracked his neck - breathing deep in an effort to not let it unnerve him.

“Have you talked to him?”

“He’s giving me nothing,” Santi replied. “When I asked about the Wharf, he shut down. He felt justified in it.”

“He was pissed.”

“He was pissed because he’s got a hard on for Charles’s daughter.”

Benny squinted at him as if it was obvious. “We all do, man. She’s gorgeous.”

Santi rolled his eyes. “Regardless - he can’t let this crush start fucking him over. We can’t afford to have Frankie go off on one of his emotional blackout benders.”

“Say that five times fast.”

“This isn’t a joke, Ben.”

“Okay - okay,” Ben threw his hands up. “I know. He’s been weird. He’s been fucking a bunch of chicks while he’s been out. I walked in on him in the billiard room at Mayfair and I had to bleach my eyeballs”

“He’s seen you do worse.”

Ben glowered at him. He had a point. Still, it was strange. The last few weeks, Frankie had been with a number of women - all of them different. Fish choosing not to fuck the same girl wasn’t exactly unusual, but the quantity definitely was.

Santi massaged his temples. “Do you think he’s drinking?”

“No,” Ben said - fairly confident. “I think this is something else.”

Like he’s trying to get her out of his system. He’s trying to forget about her.

Frankie was Ben’s brother in so many ways. He read him and read him with a sharp eye. Like Ben - Frankie was probably trying to erase her via distraction. He couldn’t drink, but he definitely could fuck. Maybe - he was worried about how he’d lost his head. Raged. Maybe - he thought that the girl brought out a more feral side to him. Ben couldn’t remember the last time he’d acted so violently and without a solid plan.

Fish had just done it.

“We have to go out tonight,” Santi finally said after a few minutes. He steepled his fingers - rocked in his leather chair.

Ben blew out a breath. He wasn’t in the mood. “Where?”

“Saints.”

***

There was tension in the group. She had put together that much. She wasn’t sure why. She wasn’t sure if it was because Frankie had acted out and killed two people seemingly on a whim. She wasn’t sure if it was about her or Baron. It was probably everything.

She had - admittedly - been so distracted by Frankie ignoring her that she had yet to ask Pope about the rest of her father’s story. A part of her simply didn’t want to know. It hurt her too much to realize that her father had apparently nursed a paternal sort of relationship with Pope. It wasn’t fair. Here she was being punished for her father’s decisions. Here she was being stalked by Pope’s psychotic brother.

She was just a fucking girl. Boring. Unstable. Depressed.

She pressed her hips against the counter as she reheated the pasta for Ben. She could focus on this. She could run through the ingredients and the steps: salt the water, toast the crushed peppercorns, boil the pasta, add the starchy water to the pan, the pecorino, mix.

If she busied her mind the rest fell away. She sometimes even forgot that she had three bottles of white wine in the fridge.

“What’s cookin, good lookin?”

Ben sauntered inside wearing a pair of gray sweats and a ratty t-shirt. A backwards baseball cap sat on his head.

“Cacio e pepe,” She turned toward him and stabbed her wooden spoon at him viciously. “And never say that again.”

He cocked his head to the side. “But you look hot when you’re pissed.”

She glowered at him and he laughed. “Sorry - sorry - I won’t.”

He slid behind her, dropping his chin over her shoulder to stare down at the pan. He smelled like sweat and cotton. Musky. He’d probably spent a couple hours in the gym. “You’re gonna make me fat.”

She could feel his very flat stomach against her spine. “I’m trying my best.”

They spent the next hour ribbing each other as usual. Benny scarfed down her food while asking about her day. He even cleaned the dishes - bodily picking her up and setting her down on the counter when she tried to do it herself.

Will and Pope entered the kitchen by eight o’clock. Pope looked as he always did: darkly handsome and aloof in his pristine gray suit. Will was dressed in a far more casual outfit: black jeans and a white shirt and boots. The smoky essence of their cologne mingled in the air. The clinical smell of the basil soap Benny had used on the pans.

“Are you wearing that, Ben?” Pope asked - perplexed.

“Nah,” He settled next to her against the counter. He didn’t make a move for the stairs. He just stared down at her bare knee with an odd sort of focus.

Her gaze darted between the men. The vibe of it all felt unsettled - almost nervous. Frankie wasn’t there. She hadn’t seen him at all today though lately that wasn’t unusual.

Will stood over by the sink, crossing his arms. “Where’s -”

Frankie strolled into the room with a girl under his arm. Every head in the room turned to look at him.

The sight of it stunned her. She had never seen him with a woman. She hadn’t heard him with one like she had with Ben and Will. This smacked her across the face.

His face was pale - his stubble overgrown. She quickly glanced down as Ben clasped his hand over her knee - his thumb stroking the skin around it.

The girl giggled and it pierced her - thrust through her guts. Frankie’s date appeared elated to be there.

“Hi,” she said and the boys didn’t respond. An awkward silence sat bloated and inescapable between them. The girl glanced at Frankie, unsure.

Ben’s hand was a firm pressure on her knee. He squeezed it and when she finally looked up, she realized that Frankie was staring at her. His big umber eyes bore into her own and she swallowed.

This was the first time he’d actually held her gaze in weeks. The last time had been right at the beginning of their fuck. His expression was unsteady as he watched her take him to the hilt - as she whimpered and begged him.

His eyes roved over her face - his nostrils flaring - his jaw rolling. His arm heavy on his date's shoulders as she turned her body to seal herself against his chest.

It was too much for her. It was far too much.

She jumped down from the counter - brushing past Will and Pope to go upstairs.

“Have fun,” she shouted in the most cheerful tone she could muster. She felt tears at the back of her throat and she desperately tried to will them away.

***

Ben saw it almost immediately. The second Fish walked in with whoever that was, her expression shuttered - curled in on itself like she was about to cry. Something had happened between them. He had put that much together. Frankie had gone from following her around to completely avoiding her.

What the fuck was he playing at? Frankie didn’t bring girls to the house unless it was after a night out. This made it look like some sort of date.

It’s why all of them had been too shocked to respond to the chick.

This was a deliberate move. He wanted to hurt her or fuck with her.

Had he said something? Had she?

He doubted it. She didn’t seem to take things too close to heart seeing as they’d kidnapped her and now they were on speaking terms - cuddling terms, even. Frankie wouldn’t have given a shit if she had called him every name in the book and then burned his room down.

This was deeper. This was bad.

Had they hooked up? Kissed? Fucked?

It was likely. Maybe - Frankie was now trying to shut her down in the most ridiculous, roundabout way? That was Fish. Always doing the most irreparable damage to try and find a solution.

“Ben,” Santi cleared his throat. “Go get dressed.”

Ben glanced at the stairs where the girl had fled. He felt a tightness in his chest as if he had violent heartburn.

He was pissed. Whatever had happened between them didn’t mean that she deserved Frankie treating her like that. She’d been through enough. She was barely holding it together as it was.

He had a very strong desire to speak to her or at least make sure she was okay.

“I’m going to stay here,” he replied -tone brooking no room for argument. His gaze flew to Frankie who had - if it was possible - gone even more stone-faced. He could see his fingers curling into a fist - his dark eyes focusing on the place she’d just vacated.

Benny analyzed people. He was quite good at it, which was entirely why Santi trusted him to work their clubs - lube up their connections for lack of a better term.

Ben would never be able to get it out of Frankie, but Faire? He could.

He was going to figure out what was going on and he’d need to get the girl in a better headspace. He would settle this and settle it tonight.

***

She rushed into her room, slightly hating herself for it. She needed to get out of that kitchen. She needed to just be alone. There was a sensation like glass - ugly and serrated - twisting through her stomach.

I’m not going to cry. I’m not going to cry. I’m not going to cry.

She curved her fingers into her palm so hard that her nails bit through the skin. This was so fucked. She should have never slept with him because now it was ruined. Now - she could barely tolerate seeing him with another woman. She knew what he felt like inside of her. She recalled in perfect detail how thick he was - how heavy his body was on top of hers - the ferocity with which he claimed her on her bedroom floor. He’d kissed her like he wanted to eat her from foot to cunt to head.

She sighed - pressing her fists into her eyelids until black spots sprang and burst across her vision.

After twenty minutes or so, she heard the boy’s steps in the foyer below. The distinct click of heels on marble. Bitch.

She heard the front door open and shut.

Thank God.

She released a heavy breath. She could crawl into bed and sleep or watch shitty television and hopefully not hear when they came -

“We’re going out,” Benny announced from the doorway.

She jerked - hand flying to her chest.

He was dressed in dark grey pants and a navy shirt along with a black bomber jacket. He held up an enormous bottle of CasaMigos - the liquid sloshing as he shook it. “We’re pre-gaming and we’re gonna go to my club.”

She gaped at him.

He grinned - obviously pleased that he’d surprised her.

“Are you drunk? We can’t leave.”

“I’m not drunk and we can leave. I’ve got business, anyway. It’s an excuse.”

“Ben…”

“Yes?” He was already strolling over to her closet - no doubt ready to sift through the numerous dresses that Pope’s personal shoppers had purchased for her.

They couldn’t go out. There was a price on her head. A big one.

But - it’d be fun.

She wanted to go out with him. She did. Benny was the most persuasive. It was his gift. However, she’d also nearly been killed only a few weeks back. Her prison had gradually become her safe haven. It was a comfort and one she was now terrified to leave. “Is that a good idea?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Baron?”

Ben waved his hand dismissively. “The club we’re going to is my club. Baron wouldn’t show up there and his lackeys certainly wouldn’t.”

“Someone could tell him.”

“Someone could, but he still isn’t going to do shit,” he assured her. “I have about a hundred people including security working for me there.”

“What about Tom?”

“We’ll leave him with the guards. Gerry loves that little dude.”

She chewed on her lip. She was still nervous, but there was also the bubbling ache of jealousy over Frankie. Sitting at home would make her fiend with anxiety and probably drink the whole damn bar and then she’d burst into tears outside his room or something equally pathetic. She wanted to forget. She wanted to have a good time for once. She didn’t think she’d had a real, true night out since even before her mother had died. She’d lost most of her friends since graduating college due to her own self-imposed isolation.

She needed to forget.

She had no desire to focus on the fact that she had been fucked and totally cast aside. Frankie could barely look at her and it hurt. She was shocked that it hurt so fiercely - that her chest and lungs got stiff whenever he avoided her gaze. Was she hideous? Had it been terrible? Did she not do a good job? She had just laid there. She’d been so consumed - so off kilter because it had felt so sweet. She had just taken what he had given her.

“What about the guys?” she implored. “Pope gets hives every time I walk near the front door.”

Ben shrugged. He turned toward her and held out a silvery minidress that sparkled beneath her buttery bedroom lighting. “They’ll probably be mad and I’ll probably get chewed out, but I’m willing to risk it so that you can have a good time for once.” He sidled up to her - his eyes round and expression playful. “Let’s go get fucked up and dance.”

She couldn’t help the smile that burst behind her lips. He was just too fucking fun. He was a killer and he had drugged her and kissed her and fucked too many chicks for her to count and still he could tug the glee from her. He was so talented at making her not think. Benny’s eyes fell to her mouth and he nudged his knuckles across her cheek.

“C’mon, Faire. Let's go be bad.”

***

The hem of her minidress rode up her thigh the second she slid into the backseat. She tried pulling it down, but it was no use. The strappy shoes had a thick heel, at least.

Benny got in next to her and offered her one of the red solo cups he was holding. She took a sip: Tequila. Soda. Splash of grapefruit.

“Did I get it right?”

“Mmhmm,” she grinned behind the rim.

“Nice,” He spread out next to her - thighs falling open as he threw his arm over the back of her seat. She didn’t mind. Ben took up space, but it was never in a way that felt domineering or rude. “By the way - you look hot as fuck.”

“You told me that already,” she pointed out. “In my room and in the elevator.”

“Well - it’s true.”

She snorted and immediately tried to muffle it behind her hand. She felt giddy. She felt like a weight had been lifted from her - at least for a few hours. Ben’s nonstop compliments were also doing wonders to her ego.

She relaxed into her seat as she looked out the window. She hadn’t seen the world from this level in ages. She digested the thick, rolling mass of the city as the SUV cruised through the streets. They were headed toward the marina - a once very shitty part of town that was now extremely expensive. The lights blurred and fuzzed - melting into streaks of brightness across numerous industrial-type buildings. This was the art’s district - famed for its pop-up art installations and murals and strange sculptures. A concert hall. The latest farm-to-table restaurant where you’d find menu items like beet pancakes or fish roe bucatini or freeze-dried liver with truffles.

She used to run around down here during college. It had weirdly been the best couple years of her life. She’d been away from her mother. She could spend her day going to class and then the library and then party until her feet ached. She’d been out of her fucking mind, but that had been the beauty of it. She’d been a good student in highschool and it was like she could let it all go once she’d left home for the short period that she was able. Of course, she’d also spent her entire junior year doing non-stop molly until the comedowns got so bad that she couldn’t sit with herself for more than ten minutes at a time. There was no joy in spending each Sunday rocking back and forth in your tiny dorm room bed either crying or vomiting.

She’d had zero self control, which was proving to be a facet of her personality. She was getting older and very much not wiser.

She glanced at Benny who was intently reading his phone. He’d slicked back his dark blonde hair and a strand hung over his eyes. He really did have ridiculously nice hair. Thick and the color of honey. The screen illuminated the sharp line of his nose and the jut of his lower lip.

“Do you have an instagram?” she asked.

Benny shot her an indignant look. “Absolutely not.”

“Then why are you always reading your phone?”

“Wikipedia pages,” he drawled as if she was an idiot for not knowing.

“Pardon?”

“I go down Wiki rabbit holes and read about weird shit,” he clarified before handing her his phone. She scrolled up to see the title of the article.

“Why are you reading about codpieces?”

“I was originally on 14th century armor,” His tone defensive. “Sometimes the links just take you for a ride.”

“You’re so strange.”

“You love it.”

“A little.”

“A lot.”

“Is Will this weird?”

“He tortures and dismembers people for a living.”

“Point taken.”

Benny chuckled before sliding closer to her. He smelled remarkable: smoke and musk and mint. His expensive cologne was pressed with spice.

“So what about you, Ms. Faire? Are you a little weirdo?”

Yes,” she replied without missing a beat.

“Go on.”

She took another sip of her drink. The red plastic crinkled between her fingers. She’d have to pace herself. “I don’t know - I was just one of those kids who grew up thinking something was wrong with me. I couldn’t figure it out. I was very in my own head. Fantasized a lot about being anywhere but where I was.”

“So that makes you weird?”

“I don’t know. I think kids could smell it off me. I was just different and I tended to keep to myself.”

“I can see that.”

“I also used to stroll around our garden talking to fairies while wearing a wig.”

He blinked at her. “Yep,” he finally replied. “There it is.”

***

It was still warm outside as she stepped out of the car. The wind swept off the bay and ruffled her hair. It smelled briney - clear and crisp with that fertile tang of the sea. Lichen. Seaweed. Damp moss soaked rocks.

She studied the rows of ugly warehouses. There was no indication that this was a club aside from the extremely long line that spilled from its enormous door. She saw the fine print along the side of the front door. It’d be almost impossible to see unless you searched for it. A place that didn’t need to promote itself due to its exclusivity.

She did a double-take.

“Wait,” She grabbed him by the wrist as he led her to the bouncer. He glanced at her over his shoulder. “St. George’s is your club?”

“Yeah,” he said as if it wasn’t a huge deal.

“Holy shit,” she breathed.

“Is it really that impressive?” He continued to drag her to the door. “Damn - should have told you sooner.”

“It’s impossible to get into! I think I’ve tried maybe ten times.”

“Who didn’t let you in?” His words aghast. “I”ll fire them.”

“Oh shut up.”

***

The first room into the club blew her away. The entire space was a blend of extravagant reds, velvet and dark-wood interiors. Like The Chapel - the vaulted ceiling was covered in art. Opulent paintings of St. George fighting a sinister dragon and the lush beautiful princess at his side. There must have been red gems inlaid into the surface because they sparked and spat like flames. There was a faux historical gloss to the place which was then contrasted by high-shine, modern furniture. Lacquered tables and chairs. Geometric, futuristic chandeliers that hung heavy.

She wanted to stop. She wanted to take it all in. She wanted to stare at the ceiling for hours, but Ben was hauling her after him and she could barely keep up with his long legs.

The next room was narrow, almost a great corridor. The ceiling was made up like the night sky. Violet-blue with scattered pendant lighting that blinked and twinkled. It made the space seem bigger than it was - taller. The true beauty were the trees that lined the path. Olive trees in granite podiums - their branches tangled and knotted as they formed a canopy over them.

“Holy shit,” she gasped as Benny led her further into the club. There were many rooms. Rooms leading into rooms, which made it like an experience. Some areas were oppressive and womb-like - others open and breathable.

“Here we are,” he called over his shoulder as they reached what had to be the main area of the club. Her mouth fell open.

The ceiling was a prism of neon multi-colored lights: cerise, violet, coral, mint, cornflower blue, and burgundy. Blown glass like handful-sized bubbles covered the lights so that they shimmered and bounced in a ripple. There were even neon flowers that hung between the bubbles, bathing the dance floor in a wash of various shades.

A giant screen stood at the far rear of the space. It played what looked like music videos as image after image revolved on a loop. Slicked up dancers. The bright berry lips of a pop star. A boy band from the nineties in white jackets and pants. There was an enormous bar - obsidian and shiny. Booths of various colors dotted the edges and when she looked closely she noticed that some of them had curtains. It was very modern with a geometric flare. It even had tinges of Art Deco. Highly stylized. A wonderland, really.

“Do you like it?” Ben asked - his mouth ghosting her ear.

“I’m speechless.”

“C’mon,” he said. “I’ve gotta network and then we can get a table.”

***

She knew that this was dangerous. Forbidden. Will would rage. Pope might kill her. She didn’t care - not a lick because Benny’s hand was firm around her own. He didn’t meander through the room but slice through it. He was sharp - quick with every note he had:

That’s Drago St. Claire - he owes Santi like a hundred k.

See that chick back there - yeah her - that’s Sylvie - she’s my eyes and ears in this place. We’ve known each other since I was thirteen.

Oh fuck me - I have to talk to this guy. Do you mind? He fucked up a job down in Santo Domingo and if I don’t do it then it’s gonna be Will and we know how that goes.

She was stunned. She had known that Benny ran Pope’s clubs. She had understood that he had responsibilities and that he was most likely good at what he did.

But - this?

Benny was an orchestrator. He dripped through the room - bloomed like the swell of the sun. The crowds oriented around him - many seemingly knowing who he was and treated him with a subtle reverence. He gave orders out of one corner of his mouth while schmoozing out of the other. He knew the most insignificant details about the people who worked for him:

How’s Mary’s ballet class?

Did you fix that pipe that blew in your basement? I can send a guy over.

Really? He dumped you? Well - fuck that guy. You can put all your drinks on my tab tonight.

He kept her pressed to his back - his grip fierce on her wrist at all times. No one seemed to notice her - no one really paid attention and perhaps everyone thought she was just one of his girls - one of the several he had because the boys did have several. She briefly wondered if any of those women would be here.

She hoped not - she enjoyed being like this with him.

She watched him - admired him. He really was gorgeous - that smug, golden shine gilding his features. His prominent cheekbones and sharp jaw and big white teeth. His height, too. She felt safe with him - huddled in his shadow as he guided her with a solid, heavy arm.

You okay? You want another drink? I promise we can relax after I do the rounds.

It had become gradually apparent to her that Benny looked out for her. He was her friend more so than any of the others. Sure there was Will, but that connection was like a livewire. She could barely interact with him without feeling a shock that sparked her blood. Making eye contact with him was like clamping down on a power generator. Santi was cordial. Frankie was…? Well - she wouldn’t go there. Not tonight when this was all meant to be a tool to forget about him.

There were no catches with Benny. There was nothing, but him asking her if she wanted to get out of that glass prison and cut loose.

Maybe - it was a bad idea. Maybe - it was incredibly foolish.

But her gaze was pinned to him and it was like seeing Ben in every new light imaginable. Every stand-out cut of footage that had been their film. Every dramatic fucking angle.

The music continued to pulse beneath her feet - it buzzed hot under her skin. She wasn’t drunk, but the tequila had lifted the cold, black stone that had settled in her gut the last few weeks. She twisted her hips - bobbed her head. It made the air churn with a sweet kind of sensuality. It made her hum with sensation.

Benny gifted her a disarming grin as he spoke to one of the security guards near the end of the bar. His gaze trailed over her - flickered across her chest and the span of her waist as she swayed subtly with the music.

She flushed deep. It throbbed over her bones. It turned her inside out. Molten fucking heat.

“What?” she mouthed and his grin spread wider.

She was about to punch him in the shoulder - smack him for taunting her with that expression when his smile completely disappeared. His face went completely flat.

“Ben!”

The throaty voice burst through the thump of the music. A body shoved past her before pouncing on him.

Marissa.

She was in a backless, silky red top and black leather pants. He returned the hug half-heartedly, but his gaze stayed firmly on her. That familiar pain in her chest began to rise. She felt a tiny bit ill.

Should she go? Should she leave them?

“Hey,” Benny said before quickly stepping away from Marissa. “Didn’t know you’d be here.”

“I searched for you at Saints!” she exclaimed - wrapping her arms around his shoulders - sealing herself to his chest. “The boys said you stayed home, but Gwen texted me that you were here. Can’t believe you didn’t tell me.” She gripped his face to tug him down to her mouth and he staggered backward.

Ben - who was usually so smooth and elegant - seemed utterly caught off guard. He stared at her helplessly as he tried to dodge the brunette’s outstretched hands.

“What the fuck is up with you?” Marissa snapped.

She wanted to be anywhere, but here. She felt awkward standing behind them - shifting on her too-high heels and her short dress. Marissa was gorgeous - effortless in her leather and silk. Ben had complimented her - had told her how good she looked, but still - she felt like she might bust out of her own skin.

Benny’s jaw tightened and then he gestured to her over Marissa’s head. “I’m actually here with someone.” His voice wasn’t rude, but it did lack warmth.

Marissa twisted around and finally noticed her.

“Oh,” she said slowly. “Hi.”

She sounded both pissed and stunned. Her narrowed gaze trailed over her from her feet to her chest to her hair. Her expression was hard as if she was doing her damndest not to sneer or bare her teeth. Marissa was itching to do something to her. She could feel it.

The bitch probably win if she was being honest. She really needed to build up her strength again.

“Hi,” she returned. She really didn’t know what else to say.

“Funny,” Marissa lifted her glass to her lips while crossing her other arm over her stomach. “I thought you were Frankie’s.”

For a second - she thought Marissa somehow knew that she had been with Frankie. But then she recalled that morning in the kitchen when she had first arrived. Marissa had stood there - staring at her blankly while Frankie shoved her behind him.

“I get around,” she drawled flatly and Benny’s eyebrows nearly hit his hairline.

“Seems like it,” Marissa replied. Her tone clipped with barely-veiled resentment.

Marissa chewed her lip before finally whirling back around - decidedly ignoring her existence.

“You wanna come see me later?”

Ben made a non-commital grunt, casting her an irritated glance. He slid around Marissa to get to her, throwing an arm around her shoulders.

“I’ll see you,” He yelled over the music before dragging her away.

He leaned down, his mouth close to her ear. “Sorry about that. She’s kind of needy.”

Kind of. The bitch wanted to skin her.

She didn’t respond, choosing to take a heavy sip of her drink as he guided her to the booths. The burn was delicious and she was just the right amount of buzzed. Marissa could fuck all the way off.

***

Ben always got the best table in the house. The bottle service girl had left a giant silver bowl filled with ice and various alcohols and chasers: Tequila Reposado, Bourbon, Vodka, Champagne. Tonic. Grapefruit Juice. Cranberry.

He poured her a drink - his eyes drifting over her unreadable expression. She was strangely quiet and Ben guessed that it was about Marissa.

Fuck. He had not meant for that to happen. He hadn’t seen her in a week or so - totally blowing off her texts. He poured himself a bourbon and scooted closer to her.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

Benny narrowed his eyes before taking her chin between his fingers to pull her face close to his. “You’re pissed.”

“I’m not.”

She was. He could see that reserved look she tried so carefully to uphold begin to leach from her face, making way for something heated.

“You are,” he accused. He drew back from her. “Marissa?”

There it was. A very bright spark of anger flashed behind her pupils. A twitch. The alcohol was no doubt sliding through her veins and making her a little less guarded.

His eyebrows lifted and then he chuckled low and gritty. She scowled before trying to slide out of the booth. “I can leave-“

He grabbed her wrist and yanked her back to him. He practically pulled her into his lap. “Don’t you fucking dare.” He lowered his voice and his breath was hot and damp across her brow. “I’m having the most fun I’ve had in a long ass time.” He circled his thumb over her forearm affectionately. “Now - why do you think I’d ever ditch you for Marissa?”

She bit her lip and he had to stop himself from touching it.

“Because you guys fuck?” she offered lamely.

“I fuck a lot of people.”

“Ugh,” she huffed as she ripped her arm from him and snatched her drink. She swallowed half of it and wrinkled her nose.

He sighed - tapping his fingers against the tabletop.

“I fuck a lot of people, but I do not usually take any of them on dates,” he explained. She paused, opening her mouth and then shutting it again. He laughed. “You don’t need to be jealous, Faire. Isn’t it obvious that I want to spend all my fucking time with you?”

Her eyes widened and it was a sight. She really was beautiful tonight. He hadn’t been just buttering her up. She looked genuinely happy and it did wonders for her coloring.

His attraction to her pulverized his ego. Ben had gotten any girl he wanted. Any. Girl. It was a joke at this point. The boys had constantly teased him about it.

Ben got women hung up on him. While the other men fucked women and immediately kicked them out the door, Ben was too playful. He’d let them hang around him - chill in his bed until he’d inevitably forget they were there. They’d get the wrong idea, of course. Mistake Benny’s flirtatious and easy nature for true affection. He was approachable, the others were not.

She tilted her head and arched one perfect eyebrow. “Why do you like me?”

“You’re hot.”

She rolled her eyes. “Seriously?”

“That’s a great attribute! We love hot people in The Cardinals.”

“I hate you.”

He grinned and then placed his hand on hers - twining their fingers together. She let him. “Alright,” he said. “For real. It’s because I think you’re fucking hilarious when you don’t even mean to be. Just deadpan humor. You talk to me like it’s easy - like I don’t owe you something or you owe me. You’re a culinary goddess and I’d eat your food forever.” She simpered at that - the corner of her lip twitching upward as she brought her glass up for a sip. “And you one-hundred percent touch yourself to the thought of me.”

She choked on her drink - spitting tequila across the table before she slapped him hard across the chest. “You’re such a little dick.”

He gasped - attempting faux outrage. “What are you talking about? I have a huge cock.”

She giggled. “Uhuh.”

“You’ve seen it!”

“Okay - okay - it was pretty nice.”

“Pretty nice,” he snorted, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Pretty nice, she says!”

She prodded him in the bicep. “And I do not touch myself to the thought of you!”

“Of course,” he said - incredibly amused. “How could I ever accuse you of such a thing?”

She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, sucking in air. The sight of it made his cock throb. Her eyes glistened beneath the flash of colored lights. He wanted to know what had happened between her and Frankie without outright asking her. He was pretty sure he knew, but he’d have to be tricky about it.

He took a healthy gulp of his drink - letting the alcohol warm him. He shrugged out of his jacket, baring his arms. Her eyes danced over his exposed tattoos; the black tree with its shadowy branches, the skull, the dragon. All of them scrawled and slithering along his biceps and forearms.

“You know,” he said slowly until her gaze flitted back to his face. “You know who has the biggest dick?”

Her brow furrowed.

“Fish.”

There it was. She started, her lips parting and her eyes widening before she lowered her eyes to his thigh.

A wrinkle creased her forehead and he knew he’d hit the mark. The red and blue lights clashed and streaked her face. He could literally sense her skin beginning to burn - to flush. He studied her intently and decided to just say it.

“You guys slept together,” he surmised. He didn’t want to use fuck. He felt like it was too crude - that it might upset her.

She turned toward the table and dropped her face into her hands. “Yes.”

“Hey,” he soothed - stroking her back. “It’s fine. Honestly - good for you. He’s got the biggest dick I’ve ever seen.”

She laughed into the cup of her palms. It was muffled, but it stank of bitterness.

“Alright - what’d he do?”

She didn’t answer. Fuck - he’d kill him.

He set his drink down and wrapped his arms around her waist. He hauled her into his side, burying his nose into her hair. “C’mon, tell me.”

She blew out a breath. “He didn’t do anything. He just - he just fucked me and left and now hasn’t spoken to me since.”

And was blatantly fucking other women to forget about her.

“It’s not you,” he told her before frowning. “Well - I mean - it IS about you, but it’s not your fault. He probably just flipped out about taking advantage of you.”

“He didn’t.”

“Babe -,” He raised his hand - lifting a finger with each point: “You were technically our captive. You’re way younger than him. You’ve been traumatized on multiple occasions since you’ve been in our care.”

All shit he regretted, but what could he do about it? That’s why he took her out. She needed to breathe.

She gripped his shirt - knuckles pressed into his stomach. “You don’t care?”

“That you fucked Frankie?” He traced his fingers up her arm before moving down - a gentle, soothing pace. “No - I’m jealous that he got to, but not upset that you did it.”

She nodded. The side of her face was firmly sealed to his chest. His heart was thumping - pounding - clattering against his rib cage. He burned for her. He knew it was cliche and sappy, but it was the truth. He burned for her in so many ways - in too many ways to count. She was gorgeous, but she was sweet and if he couldn’t have her, he’d understand.

He’d hate it, but he’d understand.

She lifted her face to meet his.

“Tonight isn’t about him,” she declared.

Benny offered her a soft smile. “It’s okay if it is.

She sat up straighter - clasped him around the neck. Her mouth was a breath from his own. “I like you, Ben. I think about you all the time.” Her eyes darted to the dance floor before they returned to him. He kept his hands on her lower back - his fingers catching on the sequins.

She leaned forward - just enough that his nostrils flared.

“I thought we came here to dance?” she murmured.

Ben grinned.

***

It was everything that she had needed. Bob Moses’s “Tearing Me Up” spilled from the speakers - thumped against the walls. The sensual, brooding beat of it swirling within her.

I don't know what you want from me

So careless in your company

I will follow what you say is true

There'll be no getting over you

“I love this song,” she shouted at him as he yanked her against him.

“Oh yeah?” he laughed as he pressed his chest against her own. His shirt was soft as it slipped through her fingers - his body hard - unyielding. “I’ll have to make a note.”

So we're now playing by your rules

If you're a joker then I'm a fool

I guess there's no catching up to you

She twirled and he moved with her. His enormous hands held firm to her waist and it was all so much. The music pounding between them like the flush of a pounding heart.

If you don't want my affection

Don't lie, you're tearing me up

Cause you've got all my attention

I won't lie, you're tearing me up

She was hungry for this. She clung to Ben as all of her insecurities fluttered into nothing. She felt ripped down the middle - burning inside and out and all of it felt good. Frankie had left her wanting. He had fucked her and left a hole in his wake and Benny knew. He knew and he didn’t judge her for it. He held her closer.

“You having fun?” His mouth at her ear - his hand on the nape of her neck.

“Too much fun,” she replied as he lifted her up and spun her. She felt eyes on her - thousands of them as the lights spiraled and circled and warmed the tops of their heads. Ben was a prince here - a king - Baby-Faced Benjamin and everyone probably wondered who this girl was in his arms. He laughed into her cheek and she tugged at his hair.

Was Marissa watching? She hoped.

She was drunk off the music as she plastered herself to Ben. Their sweat intermingled - his mouth smeared against her temple.

I'm trying to tell your intention

When you lie, you're tearing me up

If you don't want my affection

You won't mind, you're tearing me up

She had come to a realization about Benny as she watched him work. He had this particular expression - a superiority in his sharp-toothed smile. It was a mask - a boyish, wicked veneer for Ben Miller. He’d seduce you with that caramel voice - deep and thick as molasses. You’d stick to it - unable to free yourself as it wrapped tenderly around you and then when you’d least expect it, he’d make his move. He’d kill you or hurt you or demand something you’d have to give.

However - when he interacted with her there was nothing, but startling sincerity in his grin. He was animated. He was charming. He was so warm and lovely that it honestly snatched her breath.

They danced and danced and danced.

And then somewhere along the way the sexual tang to their movements escalated. His hands on her squeezed and stroked. Her grip on him was forceful and desperate.

Her back was sealed to his front as he held onto her hips. She could feel the blunt pressure of his cock against her ass. The line of his jaw swept against her brow as he spoke in her ear with a gravely: “You’re so fucking hot - I want you - I want you - I’ve wanted you”

Between the tremble of the music, the pressure of the hot air and the vibration of the floor she fell into him. He wrapped his arms around her waist and picked her clean off her feet and her hands flew to his face. It was all so sudden as he lunged forward and captured her mouth in a kiss that blinded her.

He drew back momentarily as he dropped her to her feet. He rubbed his thumb over her cheek and then her jaw before he dragged it over her lip and then he licked into her mouth. The beat of the song thrummed and shook through their bodies. It echoed through their kiss.

He was forcing her backward and she went. She stumbled on her heels and he caught her easily. His mouth wouldn’t leave her. It was as if he was glued to her and could’t tear himself away even if he wanted to.

The kiss blended into something else. Furious. Frantic. She knew where it would go and she didn’t want to stop. She tasted the sweet blush of whiskey on his tongue. He cradled her face - held her firmly as he plunged his tongue into her parted mouth. She wanted it again and again - sloppy loose - spinning out.

Her shoulders hit a wall. He crowded her - his arms braced on either side of her head. She could see nothing, but him. His lips were swollen from kissing - he looked disarmed - rocked. She wondered if she looked the same.

The dance floor behind him was just a trembling mass of figures. It blurred and rolled together as a unit. No one paid attention. No one could see and if they did she didn’t care. He regarded her for several seconds as if he wasn’t quite sure where to start.

Finally he sealed himself to her, his hand sliding down her body before she felt it teasing between her thighs. He swept his fingers along the soft plush skin before slipping them against her clothed cunt. She gasped and he removed his hand.

He nosed at her temple. “It’s up to you, baby. We can stop now.”

She shook her head and wrapped her small hand around his larger one - she forced it against her cunt. “Do it,” she panted and he pinned her with a dark smirk that broke her. He hooked his fingers around her panties and shoved them to the side. He slid his fingers through the slit of her pussy. He dipped into her shallowly before tracing up to rub her clit - up and down and up and down at a taunting pace. Her voice keened and she had to bite the inside of her mouth.

People could see. People would know.

Did she care?

“Trust me,” he drawled. “They can’t hear you. Make all the pretty little sounds you want.”

And then he pushed his fingers into her.

She exhaled sharply. She clutched at his bicep - nails digging into the thick muscle. She rocked against his hand as he thrust and curled to the knuckle. His thumb swirled against her clit and she jerked in his arms. She dropped her forehead against his shoulder.

“That’s it,” he coaxed. “That’s it. Your pussy feels so fucking good.”

He exhaled, pressing his mouth to the side of her head. He said her name. He repeated it - the letters punctuated by him shushing into her hair as he urged her to come.

It didn’t take long. She was already so worked up. He kept pressure on the peak of her sex as he fucked her with his fingers. Her climax swelled behind her cunt - made her belly tighten and her skin feel too hot. Her pleasure grew and grew - pulsing inside her with the same rhythm of the music playing above them. It hit her forcefully and she came hard enough that her legs nearly gave out - her thighs trembling around his hand.

Ben drew back to look at her. She’d never seen that expression on his face: it was hungry and dark and fucked out. His gaze was lazy - his eyes hooded as his tongue darted out over his lower lip. He eased his fingers out of her and held them up to the light. It was obvious that they were covered in her - glossy as they caught the colors fluttering through the glass bulb ceiling. He stuck them in his mouth and the sight made her clench again - made her nearly collapse. His brow creased - his eyes narrowed to slits and his nostrils flared. He released his fingers with a crude pop before his damp hands grasped the hinges of her jaw so he could crush his mouth to hers.

She tasted herself. The fleshy salt of her own pussy and Ben’s spit along with the cloying bite of alcohol. He was sealed to her. His body was so large that he could cover her completely - hide her from view. She could feel the bulge of his cock against her stomach.

“Do you wanna leave?” he husked between kisses. She could barely breathe - barely think. She clutched at him - fisted the back of his black shirt now wet with sweat. “Could fuck you in your bed.”

No. No. Too far.

“The booth,” she suggested - although there was a pinch of command behind it. “The booth.”

***

She was out of her mind, but she honestly was past the point of caring. The booth was private enough with its curtains and the screaming bass of the music.

They stumbled into it. His hands all over her. Her fingers caught in his clothes.

“Sit down,” she ordered before she clambered onto his lap.

She straddled him - her thighs spread over his - the hemline of her dress practically above her ass. She cupped his face to stare at him - to admire how good looking he was. She felt powerful like this. This was a give and take situation. This was more than just her getting fucked.

“You’re incredible,” he rasped- expression blushed with awe.

She gripped him tighter. “You don’t even know me.”

“Nah,” he contested before leaning forward and pressing a wet kiss to her throat and then the edge of her jaw. She shivered. “I do know you. I know that you try really fucking hard to look strong. You like to nurture people. You don’t like to be nurtured unless we do it by force. It makes you uncomfortable, doesn’t it?”

She splayed her hand out across his cheek and he nuzzled into it. “Uncomfortable?”

“You don’t know what to do when people want to take care of you.”

“No,” she agreed. “I don’t.”

“Do you want this?”

“Yes,” she said without hesitation. She didn’t know herself. She didn’t know what she was doing or how her desire for Ben had now wrecked her insides. She’d wanted him since they’d kissed in the penthouse’s bar. She needed him in an almost biological way. “Fuck,” he muttered as he dragged her back to his mouth. His lips slanting and pressing - tongue behind her teeth as he devoured her with an unshakeable urgency. It was like he couldn’t get enough. “I’ve wanted this - thought of nothing else.”

“Me too,” she replied because it was true - because this was so different from Frankie. Ben was beneath her and declaring his longing for her - his desire for her over the rest. Worship.

He could feel his fingers trailing over her slick heat. She was soaked from her earlier orgasm - probably staining his pants. “Sit up,” he urged and she did - lifting herself onto her knees with her hands braced on his shoulder. He sunk a finger into her and then a second. She couldn’t hear what it sounded like with the echo of the music, but she could imagine it.

Ben groaned. “Fuck - fuck - I want to get my mouth on you.”

She grasped his belt - fiddling with it until she managed to undo it and then his button - his zipper. His cock sprang free - thick and hard and dripping. She could feel it in the dark - see the shadow of it beneath the onslaught of pretty lights.

He gripped the nape of her neck - his fingers digging into her flesh. He ground himself into her - the strength of him undeniable.

“You want me to fuck you?” He said in that low voice of his - deep and from his chest. “Make you feel good?”

“Yes,” She nodded frantically. “Please.”

Ben hitched her underwear to the side as she helped line him up and then -

Shit.

“Condom,” she whispered. “Fuck.”

His face fell momentarily and she almost cried.

“Kidding,” he grinned before reaching into his jacket for his wallet. He fished the small square package out and ripped it with his teeth. “I’m highly responsible.”

She laughed before smashing her mouth to his in the clumsiest of kisses. “Thank God,” she practically sang against his parted lips.

He slid the condom on and she could feel the blunt press of the head of his cock pushing against her. She could feel how hot he was. She could feel all of him and ever so slowly she sunk down on his length.

His mouth dropped open.

“Fuck, baby,” he ground out. “Your pussy -“ his forehead fell against her chest - teeth scraping the top of her breast. “-fuck - it’s so good.”

***

Ben couldn’t quite believe it. He’d thought they’d fool around - maybe make out on the dance floor, but he certainly didn’t expect this.

He stared up at her and felt his heart shutter in his chest.

She was illuminated with a brand new type of energy. She fisted her hand into his hair - nails scraping across his scalp. She rolled her hips forward and back as she impaled herself onto his cock. Her cunt was tight and slick and molten as the blood rushing under his own skin. He wanted to pick her up and drop her on the table - spread her legs and fuck her on top of it - slide down and lick himself out of her. He wanted to feel her spasm around him - jerk with her climax.

She smelled good like jasmine and tequila and the bite of citrus.

“Please.” she begged as he met her stroke for stroke. He planted his feet and canted his hips to meet her easy rhythm. It wasn’t necessarily frantic - not a screwdriver kind of fuck. It was deep and slow and inexorable. He pressed hard into her - his hands splayed over her pillowy ass. He could see her throat working - her nipples pebble under the skimpy dress.

He dragged the neckline down to bare her breast. He lunged forward - sucking the tip into his mouth - swirling his tongue with a practiced talent. He edged his teeth over the sensitive flesh.

“Ben,” she whimpered. “Benny.”

He wondered how Frankie fucked her - he wondered how it felt and so he found himself bursting out with it. It was strictly a curiosity. Kind of.

He tugged her down so he could keep his mouth to her ear. “Did he feel good, baby? Did he fill you up just right or leave you wanting more?”

She stuttered, drawing back to gauge his expression - maybe to see if he was being serious. A smile spread across his face and he tightened his grip on her hips - he pushed deeper into her and gave her a perfunctory thrust that sent a high-pitched yelp from her mouth.

“It’s okay,” he said. “You can tell me.”

She opened her mouth and closed it again. Pleasure enriched her features - her lashes fluttering in bliss. He wanted to fuck her as if he could fuck her throat. He wanted to inhale her.

“It’s different,” she murmured as she brought her face an inch from his. “This is different,” she repeated with more meaning. They were breathing harshly into each other’s mouths, now.

“Tell me how it felt, baby — did he make you come like I’m gonna?”

***

Did he make you come?

She couldn’t even remember. It had been so fast - so different. Brute passion. With Ben, it was erotic and sexy and slow and quick and everything. Frankie was big, but Ben’s cock was piercing something vital inside her - it turned her inside out.

Ben had seduced her. Ben had taken her out. Ben had freed her from the penthouse and treated her like she was something special. He’d ignored every girl who’d walked up to him. He only had eyes for her.

It screamed inside her. Wailed. Benny.

His thumb was hard against her clit. He was circling - tweaking - in time with each snap of his hips. She rode him - held firm. Her knees chafing on the leather of the booth. The straps of her heels marking her ankles. There were masses of people grinding and dry-fucking just outside these curtains. The music beat inside her head.

Her second climax rushed through her. It lit up her veins and twisted around her ribs. She shuddered against him and he kept on going. His cock like steel - shearing through the sloppy mess of her spasming walls. Everything was so wet and overheated. Her dress was rucked all the way above her hips and cool air drifted over the bare skin of her ass and thighs. Her panties pushed to the side as it scraped against her folds and Ben’s length.

It was a storm of sensations: the thumping bassline of the techno song, the brilliantly colored lights, the sweat slippery on their skin, the blunt heavy pressure of his cock stretching her open as he drove up into her.

“You’re such a little fucking weirdo,” he grunted, kissing her chin. His pace staggered - his body trembling as she clung to him. She held him - embraced him in her arms in an almost maternal fashion. She cradled his face against her tits while he fucked into her. Every second he grew harder - thicker - and she knew he was nearing the end of it.

“Yeah,” she mumbled - breathlessly. “You, too.” She combed her fingers through his hair. He released a groan that vibrated through the silk of her dress. She felt him twitch and pulse inside her as he finished.

When she drew back, she almost burst into laughter at the look on his face. His lids were drooping - his hairline beaded in sweat. He gave her a lopsided smile and smacked her ass.

“Shit,” he said. “Fuck.”

“You’re really a Casanova with that kind of talk,” she teased and he smacked her ass again.

***

When they left - it was as if the club had spiraled into delirium. She had no idea how much time had passed. All she was aware of was the soreness between her legs - the wetness drying along her thigh. Benny’s arms wrapped around her as he sealed himself to her with his chest at her back. His chin dug into her head as he practically carted her forward and out of George’s. His frame loomed and dominated. People made fucking room for them as they cut through the crowd. It felt safe and it felt good for him treat her like the fucking sun after he’d finished fucking her.

He dropped his head and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Wanna go get McDonalds?”

***

The car ride home was painted in an other-worldliness. That pale blue dawn that turned their skin and swept over them inside the car. She was lying on her back - her head in Benny’s lap. His fingers were greasy from salt as he periodically shoved his hand into the McDonalds paper bag.

This was the hour she used to stagger home after a night out. Alone usually. Drunk or coked up and she’d crawl into her ugly bed with another beer or three in order to pass out. There’d be the song of morning birds - the honk of workday traffic - all of it acting as a symphony that clashed with her violent hangover. It had been the worst. It had been nightmarish.

Now - it felt like magic. She felt pretty. She felt wanted as they were driven back to their home.

Condensation gripped the windows of the car. Her body relaxed as they held each other in comforting silence. Nothing, but the tremble of the road beneath them, the click of the turn signal, the scratch of her sparkly dress on leather.

Silence. Easy Silence.

“Where’s my phone?” he finally grunted as he searched through his coat. He plucked it from his pocket and turned it on. His eyes widened - almost comically.

“Oh shit.”

***

Santi had dealt with stress before. It was in his nature - adhered to his bones as if he had been fucking born with a too-fast heartbeat. It had been the worst when Mateo broke away from them. When his father had refused to listen to him despite the fact that he had set Santiago up to be his heir. He had never understood it. That time had been critical. The best moment for the Cardinals and the Apostles to align. Charles had given his full support and still his father pushed back.

What did it matter now? He thought bitterly. It was done. It had gotten so bad and it wasn’t only because of Charles’s daughter. This whole fucking fight had been a long-time coming.

Mateo now had a reason to move in on his turf.

Santi stared out the great window of the living room. The city twinkled and blinked. It stood long and tall and went on until it hit the pink dawn that was rising at the horizon. This whole city had been a mass of labor and blood and -

He turned back so that he could watch the front door. Will was silent as he sat in one of the velvet chairs. He was leaning forward, hands curled into fists. There was anger simmering beneath his expression that Santi had no desire to unlatch. He knew that Will cared about the girl - certainly more than he cared about any other woman Santi had ever seen him with.

They had to be careful. He didn’t want Ironhead to break Benny’s face, which seemed more and more likely as time passed.

Frankie was stiff - leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and his eyes on his boots. He’d been tense the whole fucking night. He’d been distracted even when they were out.

When they’d gotten home and realized that Ben had run off with the girl, he’d sent his date away. He hadn’t even given her a cursory glance.

“You need to leave,” he growled and she went - bewildered and insulted.

There had been at least ten minutes of absolute chaos. Will tore the house apart. Frankie got on the phone. Santi had interrogated the guards. They had just seen them leave with Ben’s driver. They figured it was fine. Ben told them nothing.

Santi worried that Mateo had possibly threatened them or done something that would force them out. He had felt it in his guts - a real twist of fear that he had failed them somehow.

He didn’t need this. He didn’t need this on top of Frankie losing it. He didn’t need the fucking guilt of her dying when he could have prevented it. If Mateo took her - if he touched her…

Santi shut his eyes - the thought of it made him ill. He couldn’t go there - at least not yet.

“They’re at his club,” Frankie had finally announced - his lips pressed into a thin, unforgiving line. He looked alarmingly exhausted.

“Doing what?” Santi asked - incredulous.

“Dancing apparently? Drinking? Sylvie said that he came in with a girl. She thought it was a date.”

“Ben doesn’t date,” Santi grumbled at the same time that Will remarked: “It probably was a date.”

Santi squinted at him. “Is Ben that stupid? She could be killed out there.”

“Ben’s Ben,” Frankie shrugged - his expression completely unreadable. He appeared slightly upset.

Santi didn’t know what the fuck was going on. It had become increasingly apparent that all three of his men held some sort of infatuation for her. Frankie was trying to make her jealous. Will hung around her every moment that he wasn’t in the basement. Ben had now disobeyed Santi’s orders and taken her out to what? Impress her, he guessed? To Santi’s knowledge, Ben had never gone that far for any chick.

Yes - she was lovely to look at. She was sweet. She was stupidly good at cooking, but Santi drew the line there. He had to. He could not entertain the thought of touching her because he wanted to do right by her father. He had kept her far away.

Even when she had thrown herself into his lap - tears streaming down her face as she begged him to let her go, he refused to comfort her. He couldn’t. He couldn’t blur the boundaries that he had very carefully set up.

He glanced at the dog fast asleep on the couch.

You did get her a puppy. Were you blurring the boundaries there?

Santi grit his teeth so hard his jaw ached. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

The noise of the front door opening tore him from his thoughts. He lifted his eyes to see her stumbling inside with Ben at her heels. The puppy yipped, springing from the couch and bounding over to her. She let out a squeal of joy as she kneeled - scooping him up and pressing her face to the dog’s. After a moment, she glanced at the others and her smile fell.

Santi couldn’t think clearly. He was pissed and he also was highly distracted by the fact that this was the first time he’d really ever seen her in anything other than work out clothes. The dress was obscenely short. The heels elongating her legs. She had make-up on though it was slightly smudged. Even he had to admit that she looked sexy. Okay, maybe gorgeous.

Santi couldn’t control himself as his gaze washed over her before it zeroed in on her mouth. Her lipstick was smeared and Santi cringed. Ben you fucking didn’t -

“Where have you been?” Will said in a soft voice. The question was loaded - bubbling with that rage he kept so carefully buried.

“George’s,” Benny rolled his eyes and the girl leaned into him. When Santi studied her more closely, she looked slightly disheveled. She seemed dazed, but her lips were curved into a pleased - lazy sort of smile.

“It was so fun!” she said as she did a light turn on her heels. “Prettiest club I’ve ever seen.”

She was slurrying just a bit.

“Ben,” Santi articulated slowly. “This is serious. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Benny narrowed his gaze before he strode over to the bar. “She’s fine,” he said. “I wouldn’t have let anything happen to her.”

He reached for a glass and Santi grabbed him roughly by the arm - tugging him backward. “You can’t guarantee that. Mateo isn’t a fucking idiot. If he had seen that as his chance, he would have taken it. You can’t stop him.”

Ben ripped himself away from him and moved back toward the girl. She reached for wrist - her mouth forming his name under her breath. He shot her a wink before turning back to the three of them.

“Nothing happened,” Ben snapped. He ran a hand through his hair. His cheeks were rosy with a buzz. “We had a good time. She got out of this place for a bit. Get the fuck over it.”

“Why are you treating this so casually?” Santi crossed his arms over his chest.

Ben regarded them for several moments before quirking an eyebrow.

“She needed a night out,” he said carefully, with a deliberate weight to it. He pinned his eyes directly on Frankie - something unsaid passing between them. Santi suspected Frankie knew what he meant, in the way Fish looked at the ground. Still he was struggling to fit the pieces. Ben continued. “A lot’s happened to her. Give her a break.”

“We’re not blaming her,” Frankie finally pointed out. “This is on you.”

Ben scowled. “Dude - you have no room to talk.”

“What does that even mean?” Santi asked, but both men ignored him.

Will remained utterly silent as he sat in the chair. He clenched and unclenched his fists. The muscles in his jaw ticked and his nostrils flared as he regarded his brother with a pointed rage that was beginning to prick the surface. Santi paused.

He had seen Will truly angry a handful of times in his life. He was too controlled. He compartmentalized. But Will had been anxious over her - scared, even. Santi realized he needed to diffuse this before anything happened. That was more important than tearing into Ben.

It seemed as if Ben noticed Will, too because he hesitated before stating. “It’s not healthy to keep her locked in here. I might have gone about it the wrong way, but honestly I don’t really give a shit.”

Will’s eyes darkened even more if that was possible. Santi was at a loss. He couldn’t believe that they weren’t listening to him - that control of this situation was thoroughly racing from his fingers. Ben never pushed back. He’d complain or whine or joke, but he’d never so staunchly defended his actions like this. Actions that were fucking wrong.

He had to be into her. He had to like her far more than Santi realized. This wasn’t just sex or flirting or whatever they had done at the club. It was different. Now - it was interfering with Will and Ben. Frankie, too.

It came out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

“This is why we don’t keep girls around.”

It was stupid to say. She wasn’t even just one of those girls. It sounded ridiculous now that he thought about it. Still - he had said it.

She blinked at him - her mouth parting.

“Santi, man-” Ben said before she cut in front of him and faced Santi.

“Then let me go if I’m causing so much trouble!” Her tone struck him as defensive. The words were thick in her throat - almost wet. She was getting wound up and Santi wasn’t sure how to react. She simply did not understand that going off with Benny had been a terrible fucking idea. Nothing had gone wrong, but it could have. People had seen her. There could be ramifications. He didn’t know how to get this concept through to her.

His own anger began building inside him. Burning. Scratching.

He lacked empathy especially when he was furious. He could be terribly blunt and this time was no different.

It burst out of his throat before he could stop it. He stormed toward her. He needed to push her away. He needed to build up those solid boundaries because everything was getting out of hand.

“Let you go? Who is gonna protect you, sweetheart? You have no friends. No family. You think you can just run off? To where? There’s nothing for you outside of this house.”

She flinched. A beat passed. A startling break of silence.

It was as if the air was sucked from the room. Santi immediately regretted it. He wanted to take it back.

She had to understand. She had to know that her life was on the line and her death would not be an easy one if she were to be caught by his brother. He had to.

She clasped her hand over her mouth and for a horrifying moment Santi thought she was going to cry.

“Shit,” he muttered. “I-”

She dropped her hand and narrowed her eyes to slits. Her teeth flashed.

“I didn’t ask to be here, you fuck.” Her gaze flickered between the three of them. Frankie grimaced and stared down at his feet.

Will held it though - his eyes boring into hers without a single ounce of regret. He stood up and stalked toward her. “I don’t fuck around when it comes to your safety” he disclosed. His tone was cutting and blunt. “Get mad. Stomp around. But - Ben could have gotten you killed tonight.”

“I wasn’t,” she shot back. “I’m fine. Better than fine.”

Will didn’t respond. His expression had gone flat - coldly blank aside from a tiny glimmer of something, which stirred and spat beneath his eyes. The vein in his neck throbbed.

Ben came to her defense.

“You need to chill out, man,” he growled and pushed against his chest. “I know how bad you want to fuck her, but - “

Will slammed his fist into Ben’s cheek and he went down. It happened in a flash - a single flaming moment as the tension finally burst. The girl cried out and dropped to her knees beside Ben’s sprawled form.

“What the hell, Will?” She gripped his face. There was an ooze of blood trickling at the corner of his mouth. He thumbed at it, his expression surprised.

“Shit,” he husked as he stared up at his brother. “You’re actually mad.”

Will surveyed them both for a couple seconds. His lips curled and his jaw clenched. That endlessly cold mask had appeared, fitting him like a second skin. Without another word, he simply turned around and stormed up the stairs. The entire room deflated. The sunrise was streaming in through the enormous windows. Santi was done. He needed to sleep. He needed to not think for a while.

Frankie made for the stairs and Santi followed.

#triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier au #benny miller #benny miller x reader #benny miller x female reader #benny miller x you #francisco catfish morales #santiago pope garcia #william ironhead miller #frankie morales x reader #will miller x reader #benny miller imagine #santiago garcia x reader #cssfcm #cssspg #css0122 #fcm0122 #spg0122 #cssmult

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cannedsoupsucks · 3 years ago

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I want to be painted by Marcus and eat a late dinner... just sayin'

Watercolor - Valentine’s Day 2022 request #2

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Female Reader (Just Be-Claus pairing)

Word Count: 3,879

Rating: M (bordering on some smut); language, sexual content, innuendo, touching, removal of clothes … Marcus is a little saucy.

Summary: Your first Valentine’s Day with Marcus Pike doesn’t go according to plan… but he’s determined to make it up to you.

This wasn’t technically a request, but I liked writing Christmas with these two, and couldn’t get the idea of Marcus and some art of his own out of my mind. I truly thought this would end up legitimately smutty… and then while I was writing it, I realized that it didn’t need to. Today is not the day I post Marcus Pike smut, friends… it’s coming, but not yet.

As you got ready for your date, you couldn’t keep the smile from your face as you thought about the man you were going to meet. Sure, you were still getting to know him, still falling into the routine of dating someone casually, still learning about each other - but what you did know, you liked. A lot.

Keep reading

#marcus pike x reader #marcus pike fic #marcus pike x female reader #pedro pascal character #mp0122 #css0122 #cssmp

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cannedsoupsucks · 3 years ago

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It was incredibly easy for me to place myself in the reader's shoes. I also dislike crowds and am not fond of dancing. That being said, I'd willingly go to a crowded place and dance with your Javi.

Pomegranate Noir

Part of The Fox, The Mage, and The Cupboard

Pairing: Javi x Female Reader

Word Count: 1500+

Summary: You and Javi attend a Triple Frontier concert. There might be a slow dance or two.

Warnings: Magic AU with mages and familiars, Reader has a backstory but no name, worldbuilding, fluff, alcohol consumption, bar setting, additional notes at the end

Author Note: This little scene idea wouldn’t leave me alone so I had to write it. Takes place at some point after Fresh Cut Lilacs. Thank you everybody for the kind words of support 💜💜💜

(I know the gif says Mando but his precious curls are totally Fox!Javi’s vibes 💗)

Keep reading

#javi gutierrez #javi g x reader #javi g x you #javi gutierrez x reader #javi gutierrez x you #pedrostories #cssjg #css0122 #jg0122

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cannedsoupsucks · 3 years ago

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My heart was in my throat and I had a death grip on my phone while I read. Damn that was some delicious angst!

Forever

700 Follower Smoochfest Request #4

A/N: Hey, friends. I am SO sorry for how long it’s been since my last post. I skidded into 2022 with some gnarly writer’s block, but if the last few days are any indication of what’s to come… I think it’s safe to say I’m finally breaking through it. (Thank fuck.) Andwhat better way to kick it back off than by smooching Din Djarin? (Sorry, Din Djarin 😬)

Warnings: Injuries, blood, poison, discussion of death, implied smut, fucking ANGST… it’s a lot, you guys.

Word Count: 4,256

Requested by: @msfett - a passionate, trembling goodbye kiss in the rain with Din. Please give us ALL the angst and turmoil!! (oh boy… well, you asked for it.)

Summary: On your way to Mandalore, you and Din decide to pick up one more bounty— and both quickly regret it once you’re faced with a chilling possibility that threatens to erase the future that you had planned.

We never should have taken this bounty.

Tears bit the corners of your eyes as you fought to keep them from falling. You needed to keep your vision clear enough to steer the speeder, and crying wouldn’t help with that. Night was setting in quickly, the sky in a rush to darken, and you were extremely unfamiliar with the territory you were currently racing through. You had never even set foot on this planet until that morning. Had never even heard of it.

Why did we agree to this? Why did… Why did we stop here? We should have…

You sniffed and narrowed your eyes, trying to keep the questions from cutting into your focus. Scrubby little bushes flew by on either side of you, their branches nearly fossilized in the planet’s unforgiving heat. You couldn’t remember exactly how he’d maneuvered the speeder through every tilt and shift, each slight swerve in the trail you tried to follow when he’d done it a few hours earlier, but you knew that it generally ran between the rows of skeletal brush. Swallowing the burn from the tears you refused to allow, you twisted the throttle and leaned forward, aiming for the center of the twiggy runway.

How much farther is it?

Keep reading

#din djarin #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x reader #pedrostories #the mandalorian fic #din djarin x you #the mandalorian #mando x you #mando x female reader #pedro pascal character #cssdd #dd0122 #css0122

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cannedsoupsucks · 4 years ago

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Two people with backstories that have left them lonely, coming together makes me so happy. I'm secretly, well not so secretly hoping that we get to see more of them and I'd be really interested in learning more about Genie's job.

Christmas Special 2

So, apparently, all it takes for my brain (heart) to decide to ignore all the writing that I'm supposed to do, and focus solely on this, is just two people expressing an interest in reading more about these characters. I live to serve you, my loves.

Description: This is a direct continuation of Pero and Genie's story, digging a little deeper into their pasts as they begin to get to know each other. And this one managed to come out quite fluffy overall.

Rating: Mature 18+ONLY Warnings: Some Christmas themes, cursing, mild angst, family dispute, descriptions of scars, implied/vaguely described smut, fluff, happy ending. Modern!pero, pero tovar x reader. No use of y/n. Dual perspectives. Word Count: 9334 Link to Part 1

Author’s Masterlist

When you left the shower, having only pulled on an oversized t-shirt since it would’ve felt strange to just walk up to him completely naked, you found him sitting on the edge of your bed, wearing only his underwear and dress-shirt. He’d unbuttoned the sleeves and the first three buttons from the top and when he saw you, he got up and gestured for you to take the bed. He’d promised to make you feel good, so you walked up to him and kissed him, thinking you should let him know that you hadn’t changed your mind, and like before, he wasn’t shy about reciprocating, but only for a few moments, before he pulled back.

“Is it okay if I take off my shirt? I find it hard to sleep in clothes. If I manage to twist them around me, I sometimes feel like I’m being tied up or choked, and it can trigger some really bad memories and cause nightmares.”

That made your mind shift gears. Suddenly you were wondering if those things had ever happened to him, but more to the point at that moment; if you were about to have sex, why would he worry about you disapproving that he undressed? He noticed your confusion but offered no further explanation. He just stood there, patiently waiting for you to decide if you were comfortable with him undressed.

“Uh, sure you can. Whatever you need.”

He gave you a small smile, before getting started on the remaining buttons, and you felt weird just standing there, now that you weren’t sure what was gonna happen between you, so you sat down on the bed while he shrugged off the shirt. For a few seconds, you almost regretted letting him do that, when you saw the many scars that adorned his torso and arms. He kept his eyes turned away from you while he carefully folded the shirt and put it on the same chair where he’d put his other clothes, and you got the distinct impression that it had nothing to do with him being self-conscious about his appearance. He seemed perfectly at ease and as he moved, you got to see every angle of his body, and it was as though he was giving you a moment of privacy. A chance to really look and try to understand what you were seeing. You’d noticed the scar over his eye, obviously, but these were so much worse, and now that you were really looking, you noticed a few marks on his legs too. Cuts, bullet-holes, burns, surgical scars. Whatever branch of the military he’d been a part of it had to be something specialized. Something he probably couldn’t talk about, and more than likely, nothing you really wanted to know about. Suddenly his taciturn behaviour took on a different meaning. But when that first shock had settled, you realised that you didn’t find the marks of his earlier life disgusting or off-putting in any way. You hated seeing them only because you hated knowing that people had hurt him. He let you absorb what you were seeing, before he came to the bed and climbed in behind you, holding the duvet back so that you could settle in too. And he looked entirely unbothered. As though he just knew that you wouldn’t react badly to seeing things like that. You laid down on your back at first, and he chuckled softly.

“Well, that won’t do.”

He was on his side, facing you, and gently coaxed you over on your side as well, before cuddling up behind your back, wrapping his arm around your waist and sliding the other one under your pillow. You felt like there were enough butterflies in your stomach to keep you awake all night, but then he kissed the spot behind your ear before his whole body turned heavy and relaxed, and you suddenly felt just how tired you were. He was so soft and yet somehow solid behind you. Like a brick wall covered in cottonwool. And you felt safe. Not just safe in the sense that you weren’t in danger, but safe to leave your heart with this man. Safe to trust him, lean on him, and that was something you hadn’t felt in a very long time.

You woke up on Christmas eve, warm and relaxed and better rested than you’d felt in many long years. For a minute you just laid there, staring out over your bedroom in contented inactivity, until you remembered that you hadn’t fallen asleep alone. And suddenly a sharpness passed through you, at the thought that he wouldn’t be there. But it made you tense, which meant a slight movement in your muscles, and then you felt him there. Still snuggled up right behind you, his arm still resting over your waist underneath the duvet. Your skin was just so used to the contact after an entire night like that, that you’d stopped feeling him. He stirred in his sleep, and his arm tightened around you while his nose bumped into the back of your head, and you smiled. How utterly strange the past twelve hours had been. Disastrous and wonderful, all mixed into the same bowl. It was still early, you knew that by the way the light tried to slip past your blinds, a sight most familiar to you, and you wanted to stay in bed and keep sleeping just because you could. Just because the bed wasn’t empty for once. But your right side was aching from having been pressed into the mattress all night, so you shifted yourself onto your back and turned on your other side, facing your sleeping companion. You weren’t sure what he really was to you yet, but when he noticed your movement and the slight distance it put between you, his instinctive reaction was to reach for you and pull you into his chest again, and that made you hope that he was all yours from now on. You pulled your head back to keep looking at his face, so much more relaxed than you were used to seeing it, and a tremendous warmth settled into your entire being at the thought that you might’ve been what made him feel so comfortable. Shit. That meant that you already had very strong feelings for him. And that was dangerous. It was a risk you’d always be willing to take, and it wasn’t nearly enough to make you second-guess your decision to let him come home with you, especially when he’d been so decent about it, but you still needed to acknowledge to yourself that it was indeed a risk. You tucked your head back in under his chin and wrapped your free arm around him to stroke his back. You could feel the ridges and unfamiliar textures of his scars, and you trailed them carefully, trying to learn them. Any one of them could possibly have killed him, meaning none of this would’ve happened, and that made them precious, in a way.

*****

Pero was lucky enough to still have good sleep despite his many traumatic experiences and horrendous memories. And they did occasionally keep him up for a few days straight, if he was unusually stressed or upset for some reason. But those nights were rare, and he was very grateful for that. He thought that it was perhaps because he was largely at peace with his own past. He’d never done anything that he hadn’t felt was the right thing to do in the moment, and he felt confident that those that had died by his hands had not been good people. He had no illusions about humanity, as he’d seen the very darkest parts of it. He knew that some people simply had no place in this world and shouldn’t be allowed to pollute it with their depravity, and he was fine with having been a person that had dispatched some of those soulless beings into the eternal void. But that was also what allowed him to truly see and appreciate the opposite, even if he usually did so quietly. The good and beautiful people that humanity was equally adept at producing. People like you. He hadn’t slept next to anyone in a long time, but he knew that it usually calmed him. And this time, sleeping next to someone he had such strong feelings for, with the hope that you might feel the same, he’d slept so heavily that he hadn’t even noticed when you’d turned over. But when he did eventually wake, it was to the feel of your fingertips as they familiarised themselves with his body, and he’d never felt more at ease. You weren’t the sort of person that would shy away from someone based on physical things, he’d known that from seeing how you’d interacted with people with various types of afflictions, from amputees to people with cancer or skin-diseases. And he’d once watched you entertain a group of children with downs syndrome for a whole hour, looking absolutely overjoyed the entire time. Having to stare at security feeds for hours and hours had its advantages, from time to time. You hadn’t noticed that he was awake yet, so you flinched a little when he suddenly spoke.

“Did I keep my promise?”

You pulled your head back to meet his eyes, and the smile on your face was so wide and happy that it sent flutters of something wonderful and completely unidentifiable, through his body.

“You did. I felt good all night long. Thank you.”

“My pleasure. And I mean that quite literally.”

“Good.”

“So, what do you wanna do today?”

“Honestly? I don’t even wanna leave this bed. I don’t care if all we do is talk and nap and maybe watch a movie. I just wanna keep feeling like this all day.”

“Mm. What about food?”

Your happy face fell into an adorable pout.

“Crap. Why’d you have to mention that? Now I’m hungry…”

That made him chuckle and move his hand to your hip to push you over on your back, before letting his torso rest on top of yours, although he kept most of his weight on his own elbows, and his hips and legs were still resting beside you.

“Then we’ll have breakfast and go back to bed.”

He had only meant to kiss you briefly, but when you responded with pure heat, his body suddenly ignored all thoughts. And when your arms ensnared him and your legs tried to pull him up fully on top of you, it took every ounce of determination he had, to resist you.

“Easy, Genie. I’m not going anywhere.”

The words were husky whispers in your ear, all he could manage after every nerve-ending in his system were suddenly dancing to your tune.

“I know, and that’s precisely why I want you so damn much. I don’t wanna wait to know how you can make me feel, how close to each other’s hearts we can get. Because I really, really like you too, Pero.”

Well. Fuck. He’d wanted to wait, just to be certain that neither of you rushed into anything, and to reassure you that he really wasn’t there just for the potential for sex. But if you were that sure about the two of you… He looked into your eyes for a long moment, to make sure that what he saw in there was real, and not just what he wanted to see.

“I didn’t bring any protection. If I’d thought for a moment that you’d ever let me go home with you…”

“I have an IUD. It’s never failed me before.”

In the five years since he’d left the military, he had occasionally gone to bars and sought out someone to help him unwind, but those excursions had always been planned, and he’d brought and used protection every time. But there was something incredibly enticing about the prospect of getting to feel you. To be with you completely without barriers, physical or emotional. That was something he’d never been able or willing to do with anyone before.

“If you’re comfortable with that risk, then I am too.”

You looked relieved to hear him say that, and it somehow only strengthened his belief that your feelings really were as strong as his own. You eagerly nodded, and he shifted his hips onto yours and felt how your legs parted for him, wrapping around him and trembling as he pushed his groin into yours, absolutely loving the way you responded to him.

*****

To call Pero Tovar a good lover would be such an understatement that it would make your brain glitch. Hell, he made your brain glitch that morning. It wasn’t as though your previous lovers had all been shit. You’d counted yourself as being quite lucky in that regard, usually managing to bring home men that stayed within your comfort zone and even when they didn’t succeed in making you climax, still made you feel good. Which only added to the disappointment of always waking up alone afterwards. But for a full hour Pero had you balancing on the verge of what you could endure, physically, and now you suddenly understood that the others hadn’t even been close. He was attentive and caring, while simultaneously somehow also just forceful and craving enough to drive your senses wild, as he let you feel how much raw desire you awoke in him. You’d fallen asleep for a little while afterwards, and when you woke up, he’d made lunch. So, you ate and then moved into the living room and the large sofa, but didn’t turn on a movie, as the man you had still only heard a couple dozen sentences from, was suddenly chatty.

“You don’t have much Christmas decorations. Have you given up celebrating?”

“No, not really. I just… I walk a lot, around town, and there’s just so much of it everywhere and I want to enjoy it. I want it to feel magical like it used to, but when I can’t celebrate the way that I want to, it just feels like it’s being forced on me and I end up resentful instead.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“What about you? Do you celebrate at all?”

“Uh, I don’t decorate. And by that, I mean that I don’t even have regular things, much less any specific holiday decorations. And I have no traditions or family to draw from. But I do celebrate, in my own way.”

“You don’t have any traditions left over from childhood even?”

“No. I grew up in a… very strict household. I was an orphan, and my foster-family was less of a family and more of a school. They weren’t mean or anything, but there wasn’t much warmth in that house. They taught me everything I’d need to know to survive in this world, and that was where they felt their responsibilities towards me ended.”

That surprised you, for several reasons.

“Okay, hold on, that was quite a chunk to digest.”

He fell silent and waited patiently for you to gather your thoughts.

“First off: I’m so sorry that you’ve never had a family. It makes me feel so blessed that I at least had one long enough to make wonderful memories that I can lean on, even if I have no relationship with them anymore. And second: how are you still capable of being this warm and loving person today, if that home was the image that shaped you?”

“I may have grown up there, but it was the military that ultimately shaped me, and that’s a family forged of trust and love. It would never work if we didn’t care about each other.”

Of course. You smiled at that, because it made you feel so much better to know that he’d at least had people that gave a shit about him at some point in his life.

“Losing all of them was what drove me into becoming the person you’ve known until now. I’ve tried to shield myself from further loss by being impenetrable, but it would seem you found a way in anyway.”

“Not that I knew it, or even tried to do that.”

“No, but I’m still happy that you succeeded. And as for my way of celebrating… we used to always try and do something special during Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter every year, provided we weren’t in enemy territory or engaged in a mission of some sort. We sometimes only had some candy someone had smuggled in, but we’d make a thing of it. Prank each other and play cards or other games and just be silly. Our work was always so serious and dangerous that it was those moments that kept us sane. So, now I spend those holidays eating the things we used to dream we could eat back then, before I go to the cinema and watch some comedy, just to hear the audience laugh.”

“That’s somehow both sad and wonderfully positive. So, is that what we’re gonna do tomorrow, on Christmas Day?”

He positively beamed at you, and it took you by surprise. You’d never seen him smile so wide that his eyes disappeared before. And where the hell had he been hiding that adorable dimple?!

“As long as the ‘we’ part doesn’t change, I don’t care what we do.”

You shook your head at him, unable to resist smiling with him. He really did have a beautiful smile, and totally infectious too because it was just radiant.

“Then for the time being, how about we don’t plan anything, and just do whatever we feel like doing tomorrow?”

“Sounds good.”

You spent the rest of that day and evening just getting to know each other better, and you kept having to pinch yourself to check that you weren’t dreaming that he was suddenly so easy to talk to. He never dodged your questions even if they were difficult, and if they strayed into something he wasn’t allowed or prepared to tell you, he was honest about that, which made you feel safe to ask him anything. He told you about his fallen brothers and the relationships they’d had seemed to have been tremendously healthy, which surprised you. Because you’d always imagined that military men had a certain way about them, a hardness and perhaps a macho attitude, to a greater or lesser extent. But what he described really was a family. People he could talk to about literally anything without shame or fear of being ridiculed. People that had listened and been there for him, taught him everything about love and friendship that his foster parents hadn’t, and forgave him when he got it wrong in the beginning, because he just didn’t know how to be a friend yet. No wonder he’d struggled to sustain a social life after losing them. Especially since he seemed to have lost them all quite violently, and if you were reading correctly between some of those lines, he’d most likely been there for most, or even all, of their deaths. It made you so sad for him. But after dinner, when you were back in the sofa, cuddled up together in front of a live broadcast of a concert, he seemed to be itching to ask you something.

“What is it you’re chewing on, Pero? I can see that something’s turning in your head.”

“I’m just curious about your family, and what could’ve happened between you to make them turn away from someone as wonderful as you.”

“Well… families are complicated. When you grow up together, there are always gremlins somewhere in the background. Arguments that were never really settled, mistakes that never got resolved, and someone always has secrets. You tell yourself that it doesn’t matter because it’s family, and that that makes them worth a few mistakes, but that only works for a while. Sooner or later, you reach a breaking point, and depending on how willing you are to listen to each other, that point will either strengthen your family, or tear it apart.”

“And that’s what happened to you?”

“Yeah. Secrets. That’s what broke us. I’m the middle child between two brothers, the older named Jim and the younger Brody, and they were terrible rivals growing up, so I ended up being the mediator between them. They fought over everything, and then they came to me and cried about it because they knew that I’d be kind to them, whereas our parents for the most part were too tired to deal with their drama and would just tell them to stop fighting. So, I was the secret-keeper of the family, which was why I knew that Jim is gay. It never bothered me, but he was adamant about no one else knowing, so when Brody suddenly outed him at a family birthday dinner eight years ago, Jim assumed that I’d told him. I wasn’t there to defend myself that day, I was in college and couldn’t go home that weekend, but from what I’ve gathered, it was one hell of a fight. Every little grudge between all of them had been brought up, until they’d all managed to say some things that you just can’t take back. And when it was over, everyone called me, one after the other, and those calls were the worst conversations I’ve ever had with anyone. Jim was so angry with me that in pure spite, thinking that I’d spilled his secret, he’d told the family the one secret that I’d shared with him, which was that an uncle in the family had once been inappropriate with me, which is true, but my parents refused to believe it. They called me to tell me that I was a liar and that my uncle had been nothing but kind to me my entire life, even helping to pay for my education, as if that meant that he was automatically a good person. I had never been truly upset with my parents before that day, but by the end of that call, I never wanted to speak to them again. And Brody was just angry that I wasn’t ‘on his side’, whatever that means. I guess he hoped that I’d do what I’d always done up until then, and try and make him feel better, but I just couldn’t. Not after they’d all somehow decided to blame me for something.”

“But you hadn’t told Brody about Jim being gay?”

“No. I think he figured it out on his own, either by spying on Jim or just through whatever little clues he might have caught over the years.”

“And you don’t think that these things can be resolved?”

“I don’t know. I guess that would depend on everyone being willing to forgive each other, and I just don’t see that happening. I don’t even know if I can.”

He seemed to be thinking hard for a minute, and you silently waited for him to digest all of it.

“I don’t know them, so I can’t say whether they’re good people at heart, but from my perspective, anyone that is willing to harm you just to throw blame away from themselves, are unworthy of your affection or forgiveness. Family or not.”

Hearing that actually made you happy. Because it meant that he valued your emotional health a hell of a lot more than your family ever had. Your brothers had always used you to make themselves feel better, and your parents had relied on your kindness to ease their guilt about not being home more. There had always been a smidgeon of guilt somewhere inside you, that maybe you could’ve done more, maybe you could’ve somehow helped your brothers better and prevented this whole mess. But you also knew that nothing you might’ve done would’ve made any difference, because you hadn’t done anything wrong regardless. None of it was your fault. And Pero reminded you of that. He somehow solidified your belief in your own strength and in the thought that you were right to leave that broken family behind and move forwards instead. How had you ever considered him to be cold and uncaring?

Bedtime came a bit earlier than your usual 11 pm routine, but you still didn’t fall asleep until well after midnight, at which point you were so spent, so unbelievably exhausted that you literally passed out on top of him. You were sitting up, straddling him, with your hands pressed into his chest, but the moment after you’d come for the third time, your arms just gave out and everything went black. All you could do was hope that he’d catch you as you fell forwards, so you wouldn’t crack your head open against his collarbone, or something.

*****

He’d only just gotten his hands up in time to keep you from waking up with what he was sure would’ve been a serious bump on your forehead, or possibly a broken nose, as you’d collapsed from your last tousle. His own arms had trembled with fatigue, forcing him to direct your limp torso off to the side rather than try and hold you up, but you’d landed softly on the mattress instead, giving him time to recover a little before he manoeuvred you to a better sleeping position. When you woke up the next morning it was with a bit of a jolt, probably because the last thing you remembered was fainting, and you looked around dazed and disoriented, getting annoyed with your tangled hair that kept getting in your eyes. He’d woken up before you this time and had just watched you as you laid there on your belly, with your face half buried in the pillow. You’d stirred a few times during the morning, twisting your body like a cat and mumbling unintelligible things, which was why he was just lying beside you now, not holding you in case you needed to move more. Every little thing you did made him smile. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d found it so easy to smile and enjoy himself. But you made him happy. It was just that simple.

“Oof… if you’re gonna make a habit out of wringing every ounce of pleasure out of me for two hours straight, I’m gonna have to start exercising more. Every single muscle is aching…”

“Don’t worry, preciosa, I don’t have the strength to do that too many times either.”

You merely hummed at that and closed your eyes again, still too tired to fully engage with the waking world.

“Finish waking up, I’ll make breakfast. And then I think we need to take a drive over to my place. I need clean clothes.”

He crawled past you, kissing you on the cheek as he passed over you, and he was well into the process of making pancakes by the time you appeared in the kitchen, having untangled your hair and already gotten dressed in jeans and a knitted white sweater. You both ate like starved wolves and then talked a little more before Pero got dressed too and you made the trip over to his apartment. He was nervous bringing you there but tried not to show it too much. He’d never brought anyone there before, and he worried what you’d think about his complete lack of personalisation. He offered you to step in first, and you did, walking straight in and looking out of the large windows directly ahead in the combined space. The bedroom wasn’t its own room exactly, but it was separated by a single parting wall, just long enough to fit a bed behind. Other than that, the kitchen, dining area and living room was all one space.

“The view is great up here.”

“Yeah. That’s why I took it. It’s a little out of the way, but at least there are no nosy neighbours peeking in.”

“That was one of the draws for me with my apartment too. Granted, it only looks into tree-crowns since the park is right next to it, but it still means no houses opposite. I could never live somewhere where I felt the need to close the blinds just for a moment of privacy.”

“Well, feel free to look around while I get changed. Uh… there isn’t much, I know, but you’re welcome to snoop all the same.”

He moved to the closets next to the bed and started undressing.

“I’ve never once imagined what your home might look like but, strangely, this feels entirely accurate to how I’ve perceived you. And now that I know what you come from, I knew not to expect any embellishments or much in the way of personal trinkets. However, the library is a total surprise. There must be a thousand books here.”

“It’s the one thing I like to do on my days off. Besides the occasional cinema visit.”

“Have you read all of them?”

“No, not yet.”

He’d finished getting dressed by then, in jeans, a warm sweater and a nice brown leather jacket that he never wore to work. Long ago it had been a birthday gift from his brothers, the only one he’d ever gotten, which was why he only ever wore it to special occasions. But every day with you was a special occasion. He debated whether to pack a bag with more clothes to bring to your place, or if that might be too presumptuous. No. You wouldn’t mind that, it was just a sign that he really was serious about you, right? He pulled the bag out of the closet and threw in some basic things before he stepped around the bed and the parting wall, to find you reading the backs of some books, turned away from him.

“Okay, I’m ready.”

He was unreasonably nervous as he watched you turn and take in his appearance, and the bag hanging from his hand. But you didn’t make him wait this time, as it was apparently the first thing you noticed.

“Ah, I like your thinking there. And you look great. I suddenly feel a bit upstaged.”

He breathed a small sigh of relief.

“Don’t. You look perfect.”

That earned him a slightly wonky smile, which he interpreted as you being fine with him believing that, but not believing it about yourself.

“Thanks.”

You spent the rest of what he hoped was only your first Christmas together, mostly just walking around town, trying to find some holiday cheer in the markets and decorated windows and generally happy mood of the people you met, and it worked surprisingly well. But the day ended back at your place, and the bed that he’d already come to think of as the place where he had the best sleep imaginable, and never wanted to leave again.

*****

The following days kept to pretty much the same pattern. You talked, ate, napped, made love, talked more and so on, and you wondered if there was a happier way to live. And then suddenly that morning came, when you had to go back to work, back to reality and pressure and deadlines and you weren’t ready. Because these three weeks had been a dream, and you were terrified that you’d go back to everyday life and the balloon would pop and it would turn out that none of it was real. You were sad that morning, but you tried to act normally for Pero’s sake, so that he wouldn’t think that he’d done something wrong, while you bustled about the apartment trying to get ready when both of your normal routines had been disrupted by each other’s presence. The drive was quiet, and you couldn’t help but notice that he seemed to fall back into his usual gruff work-persona the closer you got to the office. However, there was a part of you that kinda liked that, because it meant that only you got to have that other side of him. And before you parted ways by the elevator (the security staff had a locker room and showers down there in the sub-basement) he pulled you in for a hug, kissed your cheek and whispered in your ear.

“I’ll be right here at the end of the day, and if I can take my lunch at noon I’ll come and find you, okay?”

You almost started crying. He’d known, probably all morning, that you were worried. He already knew what your true happiness looked like and could tell when you had to work for it. Fuck. You loved this man. So damn much. Was it too soon to tell him that? You didn’t wanna say it until you felt sure that he could handle something like that, and wouldn’t be frightened by the implications and responsibilities, that came with a declaration like that.

“I already miss you.”

He pulled back from your cheek just enough to reach your lips instead and kissed you softly for a deliciously long moment, before letting go of you and turning to head for the locker room. You watched him until he disappeared around a corner, and then you sighed and pressed the elevator button.

“Wow…”

You recognised the voice immediately and couldn’t help but smile as you turned around and found Ben Tyler behind you, with raised eyebrows and a general look of awe on his face.

“Morning, Tyler.”

“I always knew he had it in him, but he’s actually like, soft and all, with you. I thought that he’s just perpetually gruff, even when he’s happy, which admittedly isn’t frequent, but it happens. But that was like, all tender and sweet, and he actually talks to you! How’d you do that?”

You had to remind yourself what a tremendous thing that must be for him to see, after so many months of working with a brick wall. But it also struck you that he mentioned Pero being happy, meaning he must’ve somehow learned how to see it on him when he was, even through the bricks, which was more than you ever had. The elevator arrived just then, and you answered while stepping inside.

“I honestly have no idea. Have a nice day.”

He got all serious for a moment and pointed a finger at you for emphasis.

“I will get him to talk to me one of these days. Mark my words, Genie.”

The doors closed just as he finished, and you smiled all the way up to your floor. Leave it to Tyler to get your spirits up just when you needed it the most. You’d have to invite him over for dinner someday, to thank him for being such a good friend, and to let him see Pero when he was really relaxed. You were pretty sure that your boyfriend liked the kid, even if he wouldn’t admit to it, so perhaps there was a real friendship to be made there, with a little push at the right time. Stepping onto your floor you were met by a flurry of activity as there was always work backed up after the holidays, no matter how much you tried to work ahead before the office closed. You made your way to your office and just as you stepped inside, your assistant appeared behind you.

“Welcome back, Genie. I know you don’t celebrate, but I hope you had a good time away.”

“I did, thank you, Isabel. And same to you. But I know my schedule’s packed today, so let’s get started, shall we?”

“Yes, of course. You have a briefing with senior staff at 9, a video-conference with legal at 9.30, a meeting with Eleanor from economy at 10, that thing with the gaming developers at 11, and six departments are waiting for your assessment on that new software for the identification program.”

“That was the one that Reynold’s team developed, right?”

“Yep. Do you wanna start with that?”

“I’m sure those departments want me to, it’s already delayed. Just give me a heads-up ten minutes before the briefing, in case I loose track of time.”

“You got it. Oh, and before I go, well done for thawing that block of ice. I wouldn’t have pegged you as one to go for the broody sort, but you seem happy, so guess I was wrong.”

“Whaa…?”

You just stared at her with your mouth hanging open for a few seconds while your mind tried to catch up.

“H-how do you already know about that? Nobody but Tyler saw us arrive together. OH! Did he tell you? Don’t tell me he sent out a mass-text or anything, because I will punch him in the fucking face!”

“No, it wasn’t him. I heard it from Anna by the coffee-machine just now.”

“It’s already fucking gossip?! It’s not even 7.30…”

“It’s an office, honey. We live for this shit.”

You growled behind your own teeth as you watched her leave, and then passive aggressively started punching keys on your computer while mumbling about people minding their own business and doing what they were paid to do. But you soon forgot all about it. Your morning ended up even more crammed than your schedule had predicted, so by the time you heard a knock on your door and found Pero standing in the open frame, you’d completely forgotten that lunch even existed. You sighed and pushed away from your desk and rolled your shoulders, hearing loud cracks in your neck and feeling the strain of alternating between lots of sitting, and lots of fast walking, in your back and hips.

“I won’t ask how your day is going, I can hear it from here. Do you want a massage?”

“Oh, god… do you seriously think you have to ask?”

He chuckled and came to stand behind your chair, putting his large hands on your shoulders, and going to work on them. He was so good at it, softening you up in no time, dragging his thumbs up the length of your neck and working through that too. It felt so good that you were almost asleep even though you sat upright, by the time he stopped.

“Better?”

“Infinitely. Thank you so much, you’re an angel.”

“Anytime, sweetheart. Now let’s get some food into you before you pass out.”

“Might be wise, yeah.”

He took your hand to help you up, and then kept holding it as you left your office, which made you smile. But it also made you remember Isabel’s comment that morning.

“Hey, did you know that we were the talk of the town even before 7.30 this morning?”

“Mm. That’s because Gaby got in early this morning and was already checking over the security feeds at the time we arrived. She happened to see us, and it apparently made her morning, so she decided to share the news.”

“We have Gaby to thank for that? Gaby?!”

“We do.”

“Well, shit. I can’t be angry with her, I like her.”

He smiled at you and shook his head while the elevator took you up to the cafeteria.

“Isn’t that a wonderful problem to have, mi amor.”

You meant to answer him, but it got stuck in your throat when your brain registered what he’d just said. You didn’t speak a whole lot of Spanish, but you sure as hell knew what those two little words meant. But just as you were about to ask him about it, the doors opened and he pulled you along out into the cafeteria, which was about half full at the time. And every single face in there turned to look at the two of you as you made your way to the counter, still hand in hand. As always, being in this kind of spotlight made you feel awkward, and even though you tried to smile at people, you were sure that it only looked forced and awful. But Pero was used to being stared at, and just soldiered on. You stopped caring about the nosy people when he asked you to tell him about your morning, and you allowed the conversation to distract you, keeping your focus only on him, as you were sure had been his intention with the question. And when your hour was up, he followed you back to your office, and closed the door after he’d stepped in with you. Your office was squared and there were large windows taking up most of the wall-space behind your desk, while the side walls were ordinary wallpapered wood and plaster. But the wall between your office and the cubicle-maze was made entirely of glass, meaning there was nowhere to hide from prying eyes. Unless you closed the aluminium door. He pulled you in behind it so that he could kiss you to his heart’s content without anyone seeing you, and he didn’t stop until you were both gasping for air.

“I’ve been thinking about that all morning.”

He was breathless and craving, you could hear the desire oozing out of every syllable.

“I’m glad you’ve had time to think, at least.”

“Don’t be. It’s torture to have to stay away from you.”

“Well, then I guess it’s good that we don’t have any plans tonight.”

You should’ve known better than to jinx it, but of course, the lack of plans turned into obligated travel two thousand fucking miles away, just twenty minutes before you were supposed to be done for the day.

*****

“Do you have to go?”

“I designed and created that entire system, I’m the only one that can figure out why it crashed, but it’s on a server that isn’t networked and can’t be, for security reasons, so… yeah, I have to go.”

“It can’t wait until tomorrow?”

“Pero, there’s a helicopter about to pick me up, just to get me to the airport faster. I highly doubt they’d be willing to wait that long.”

“Fine, but text me when you land, and every chance you get.”

“I will, I promise. I’m so sorry.”

You kissed him goodbye and ran over to the well-dressed men that had come to collect you, and he hated them for stealing you from him. Today had been the first day since you invited him home, that the two of you had been apart for more than twenty minutes at a time, and he’d been looking forward to having you close again. He tried to tell himself that it was healthy to be separated from time to time, that it kept people from getting tired of one another, but it did nothing to soothe his aching chest. Apart from his books, you were literally all he had, and he needed to know that you were safe, something that was impossible when you were in a completely different part of the country, surrounded by strangers. All of which was made worse by the fact that not even you knew how long you’d be gone. He didn’t even know how he’d get through the night, much less several, without you. He was already so used to sleeping with you in his arms that just the idea of not having you there was giving him chills. Coming home to your apartment alone made the place seem so empty and colourless. But at least he got to be around your scent, and your things. Everything you. He showered but didn’t bother making dinner, since he had no appetite, and headed for the living room to pick out a book to read. But then the doorbell rang. No one ever visited you. He knew that because you’d lived there for five years, and besides him, only your failed attempts at finding a partner had ever been there. You weren’t even there now, and nobody knew that he practically lived there too, so why would anyone come by? It had to be a salesperson, so he ignored it. And then his phone beeped, making him jump and almost drop it in his hurry to check it. It was from you, and that alone was enough to make him remember how to breathe. But then he read the message, and felt a deep crease settle into his forehead.

>> On the plane now. Are you ever gonna open the door? <<

Had you sent someone there? What on earth for? He went to the door and checked the peephole, and sure enough, a familiar face was out there. Whatever you were up to, he felt certain that he wouldn’t enjoy it. He just wanted to sit there and brood and wait for you to come home so he could sleep, not play host to some manner of intervention, so he still contemplated ignoring it. But you’d be disappointed with him if he did that, so he took a deep breath and opened the door.

“What exactly did she tell you?”

“To keep you company and be as annoying as possible.”

He sighed. Heavily.

“Your specialty.”

Tyler nodded enthusiastically, and Pero just glared at him. He couldn’t believe you’d done this, but no one else would’ve dared to. You were concerned about him and didn’t want him to be alone, he understood that, but he really couldn’t understand what you hoped that this little trick would accomplish? It was only for your sake that he stepped out of the way, holding the door open for the kid while he walked in, and then slammed it shut behind him.

“So, I’m thinking tacos and nachos and dip, I’ve got soft shells too, in case you prefer that, I’ve got some beer if you want, some chocolate thing for dessert that just looked too good not to try, know what I mean? Also, these gingerbread-flavoured toffee’s that were on sale, left over from the holidays I guess, but man they are crazy delicious.”

He kept talking while Pero led him to the kitchen, completely uninterested in anything the kid had brought because he still wasn’t hungry.

“Ooh, this place is nice. Modern and all. Right, let’s see, where are the frying pans?”

He didn’t answer because he’d already left the kitchen as soon as Tyler stepped into it and had no intention of helping him find anything. If he wanted to cook, he could cook, provided he left Pero out of it. He returned to the living room and the book he’d picked out, but before he started reading, he picked up his phone again to text you back.

>> Stay safe. And what exactly are you up to? <<

Your reply pinged just a minute later.

>> I will. And I’m making friends, which means you’re making friends too. So, get your ass over to the kitchen. <<

He grumbled under his breath. Sure, the kid was tolerable, but he was a poor substitute for you. And he wasn’t helped by the fact that Pero was feeling extra cranky at the moment.

>> I don’t want tacos. <<

>> So? Keep him company while he cooks. <<

>> No. <<

>> Get your ass to the kitchen. I won’t tell you again. <<

>> What are you gonna do about it from two thousand miles away? <<

There was a pause. And it got longer, and longer, and longer.

>> Preciosa? <<

No reply. He tried to be patient, but…

>> Sweetheart, what’s going on? <<

After ten minutes he was in the hallway putting his shoes on, about to leave for the fucking airport, when there was finally another ping and he damn near dropped the phone again.

>> Take off your shoes and go and talk to him, or I won’t talk to you. <<

He actually started looking around for a fucking camera. How the hell did you know exactly what he was doing? Another ping.

>> Stop stalling. Final warning. <<

What the… He made a mental note to check the apartment for any type of bug or transmitter later, and then took off his shoes again.

>> FINE. <<

He walked into the kitchen and sat down by the table, with the book. It was childish, he knew that, but yours was the only company he truly enjoyed, and if he couldn’t have that, he was rather on his own. Tyler was a good kid, but they had nothing but work in common. So, what were they supposed to talk about?

“Oh, hey. I’m almost done with the mince. Listen, I wanted to ask your advice on something, if that’s okay? Because I got inspired by you and Genie, so I finally asked Marie out on a date. But I’ve got no idea what to do. Like, I should surprise her, right? Do something fun that she doesn’t expect, sweep her off her feet!”

Pero almost chuckled. Almost.

“Some people don’t like surprises.”

Tyler could hear the slight accusation in his tone.

“Hey, this was not my idea. You wanna blame someone, take it up with your girl, I’m just following orders. That is one fierce woman. I mean I always knew that, but it’s different when she actually starts bossing you around. But it’s like she’s somehow also just so sweet, that you wanna do anything she asks, even though she’s not actually asking. I see what it is that made you step out of your comfort zone for her.”

That observation surprised Pero, but he wasn’t sure that the kid really knew what he was talking about.

“You think so, hm?”

“Yeah, I mean, she’s energetic and strong and determined, but there’s something so soft about her too, right? Something kinda fragile. And lord knows I know how unflinchingly resolute one needs to be to get under your skin, but also how fiercely protective you are. She’s perfect for you.”

It took the older man a minute to absorb that, because he knew the kid was smart and attentive, but he hadn’t seen this level of calm maturity from him before. At work, he was always ready. Always waiting for the next thing to happen, and excited about every little thing that did happen. But this was the first time that Pero had seen him outside of work, and while he was still the same kid, there was an ease and a comfort to him now. And that suggested that perhaps he wasn’t quite so annoyingly hyperactive ordinarily. Perhaps he was just stressed at work. Scared of failing or doing something wrong or maybe just that people wouldn’t like him.

“You said… that you think of me as your friend. Even though I never talk to you, never offer you anything beyond what the job requires. Why would you think like that?”

Tyler just shrugged while he chopped vegetables, still looking at ease.

“Because I know how you treat people that you really don’t like, and that’s not how you treat me. I know what makes you angry, sad, happy, and I know that even though I irritate the living daylights out of you sometimes, you never tell me to shut up. I think of you as a friend because, in your own way, you’re kind to me but without ever making me feel like a charity case.”

Suddenly he knew exactly why you’d sent Tyler there that night. You really were a fucking genius. He had no clue how you’d known that the kid felt like that about him, or that this kind of setting was the only way he’d ever feel comfortable enough to admit it, but now your adamant insistence that he had to talk to him, all made sense. You weren’t trying to make friends; you were trying to make him see that both of you already had one. He got up and went to the knife-drawer, picked out a good one and found another cutting board to start helping the kid with the veggies and onions. He was very skilled with blades and made Tyler’s eyes pop wide as he made his way through the greens in no time.

“I don’t drink alcohol. Messes with my dreams in all the bad ways. But there’s some lemon-flavoured sparkling water in the fridge that kinda goes with everything.”

It took him a moment to realise that Pero had just agreed to join him for dinner, but when he did, he practically bounced over to the fridge to find the bottles.

*****

You came home early the next morning, having worked through the night, so you were dead on your feet and stumbling out of your shoes and having to wrestle your nearly limp arms out of the jacket, while aiming for the bedroom through barely open eyes. You weren’t even gonna try and have a go at your clothes before you collapsed onto the bed and fell asleep the moment your head hit the pillow. You woke up feeling heavy and sluggish, disoriented by having slept during the day and having no idea what time it was now. But you quickly realised that you were under the duvet and undressed down to your panties, so you knew that Pero had at least been there with you even though you couldn’t see or hear him right then. There had been a few more texts between you during the evening and you’d gotten the impression that he had at least participated in the meal, but you didn’t know yet if your plan had worked, and he’d realised what a friend he really had in Tyler. You needed the bathroom, so you dragged yourself out of bed feeling more asleep than awake still, but when you re-emerged into the bedroom, you were snared by two big arms that enveloped you while a lovely little hum filled your ears. He kissed your neck and rubbed your back, and you relaxed into him, feeling safe and loved and happy.

“I missed you, preciosa.”

“Mmm, I can tell.”

He was mildly pressing his hips into yours, and there was enough going on down there that you knew where it was going, and you had no objections at all. You might be tired, but not of him. He could hear that desire in your voice and his attention got more focused. He was backing you against the bed while he spoke next.

“You are genuinely amazing; do you realise that?”

That made you smile and seek out his lips as you answered him.

“I try not to dwell on it. Makes people uncomfortable.”

The backs of your legs hit the bedframe and you sat down, lazily pulling yourself further onto it while he kneeled and followed you down, settling in on top of your still sleep-soft warm body.

“I’m not gonna let you go, you understand that, right? I mean if you kick me out, of course I’ll leave, but you would have to kick really hard.”

“I know, that’s why I trust you with my heart.”

This time, there was no hesitation. Even in your hazy, half-asleep brain, you no longer feared that he would think it was too soon or be overwhelmed by hearing it.

“I love you, Pero.”

His eyes found yours, and they’d turned that liquid brandy colour that had taken you aback that night by the garage door. So full of desire and affection and appreciation that they just couldn’t stay solid. And in those eyes, you saw so much that you knew he wanted to say, but simply had no words for. The incredulity of hearing that you’d chosen him, despite his strangeness and limited social skills, despite his previously off-putting behaviour and complete lack of emotional response. The gratitude of knowing that you’d be there even if he messed up. The value he placed on the fact that you were happy with him. He said it back to you, over and over while his body showed you just how much he felt for you, and it didn’t matter what time it was, what day it was or where you were. All that mattered, was that you were exactly where you wanted to be.

THE END (again)

@tacticalsparkles @tanzthompson @sarahjkl82-blog @marydjarin @idreamofboobear @annathewitch @agingerindenial @tiffanyleen @winter-fox-queen @elegantduckturtle @lovefreylove @shadowolf993 @callsigncatfish @talesfromtheguild @hounding-around @cannedsoupsucks @startrekkingaroundasgard @thisshipwillsail316 @ellie-darling @likes-good-reblogs-even-better @nakhudanyx @dihra-vesa @tobealostwanderer @ophelialoveshandsomemen @andiesturgss @deadhumourist @spideysimpossiblegirl @pedrostories @toomanystoriessolittletime @tintinn16 @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @nolanell

#pero tovar fanfiction #pero tovar fic #pero tovar x fem!reader #pero tovar x female reader #pero x reader #pero x fem!reader #tovar x reader #tovar x fem!reader #modern!pero #the great wall fanfiction #the great wall modern au #the great wall au #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fluff #pero tovar fluff #csspt #pt0122 #css0122

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cannedsoupsucks · 3 years ago

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Be a fool Pero! Be a fool!

Heaven on Earth, Part Four

Characters: Pero Tovar and F!Reader

WC: 3429

Other Pieces: This is part of a miniseries. Pero Tovar masterlist found here.

CW: The unrestrained medieval eroticism of a man touching a lady’s knee.

AN: Not beta’ed. Never beta’ed. Flung into the void unedited and rife with errors.

________________

Pero knew he had to repair his blunder with you. He could let it go, but one thought haunted him: that you perhaps had feelings for him too, and that he had scared you away with his rough, cruel words.

Keep reading

#pero tovar #pero tovar x reader #The Great Wall #pt0122 #csspt #css0122

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cannedsoupsucks · 3 years ago

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I loooove it when lapels get grabbed to pull someone in.

Pushing The Envelope - Valentine’s Day 2022 request #1

Pairing: Max Phillips x Female Reader

Word Count: 2301

Rating: M - language, mention of blood and weapons, one tiny mention of a murder, vampires … you know the drill.

This first request is for @alraedesigns, who wanted something humorous with Max P and an envelope.

This is my first time ever writing for Max, and I definitely don’t think it will be the last. He’s FUN. Thank you so much for the request, Alex. I hope you like it!

Sitting in the parking lot, you stared up at your office building. It was nondescript - ten stories of beige, windows that offered a view but let very little light in, an elevator that only worked half the time, and mostly insufferable coworkers - but it also allowed you to be near Max.

Keep reading

#max phillips x reader #max phillips fic #max phillips x female reader #pedrostories #pedro pascal character #cssmvp #vmp0122 #css0122

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cannedsoupsucks · 3 years ago

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Boba and Fennec!

Merry Go Round of Life 15

Find my masterlist

And here we are, the character I’ve been wanting to introduce for literally WEEKS. I’ve known who would fill this role since before I actually started writing this. Yes, I did in fact have too much fun with this chapter.

Word Count: 1.1k

This one will be Din Djarin x f!reader eventually. Don’t hold your breath folks, this one’s a slow burn. Sort of.

Warnings: Some swearing, discussions of politics very briefly, discussion of war, King doing King stuff.

You took a minute to look around the throne room. It was pretty bare, apart from the dais and the throne. One wall had multiple large windows, allowing natural light in. The child in your arms cooed, also looking around.

“It is rather grand,” you agreed, voice hushed. “In a severe kind of way. I had no idea it would look like this."

"And what did you expect?"

You jumped, badly startled, and turned to look at the man behind you. His skin was brown, and you could see scars across his face. He was bald, and his eyebrows were drawn in a slight frown.

Keep reading

#din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #cssdd #css0122 #dd0122

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cannedsoupsucks · 3 years ago

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The thought of kissing Oberyn in the orange groves makes me warm like the Dornish sun 🍊

Nameday

700 Follower Smoochfest Request #3

A/N: First and foremost I would like to start by screaming out HAPPY BIRTHDAY RACHAEL! This one is for you- thank you for being such an amazing friend. Frickin’ love you. I hope you have had a fantastic day and that this year is a badass one. (and i hope you enjoy this little treat, too.)

A/N 2: This is not connected to The Viper & the Wild Thing or Aphelion… and it was very fun to write.

Requested by: @something-tofightfor - Oberyn (not related to TVATWT or Aphelion) with grabbing their hand to get their attention, kissing each other breathless and putting an arm around the other’s waist- the twist? All of this in public.

Word Count: 2,619

Warnings: Language, mentions of sex- nothing explicit. Oberyn Martell needs a warning all his own.

Summary: Oberyn is less than excited about attending a nameday celebration for his nephew, but when he takes you up on your joking suggestion, it turns into a day that both of you are ready to enjoy.

I can’t believe I’m here.

You closed your eyes and let your sunbaked smile curve even more as a warm breeze sent some of the spray from the large fountain in the center of the pool in your direction. The cool droplets hitting your cheeks were refreshing in the oppressive Dornish heat, and you inhaled deeply though your nose, picking up on the sweet scent of the day lily blossoms that floated on the shallow water. Music played on lutes, lyres and drums, the metallic jangling of coins and beads on the skirts and headpieces of dancers joining the calls of peacocks to add to the song. Turning to your left and opening your eyes, your heart doubled its pace as you caught a glimpse of bright yellow robes between two passing servants, the man wearing them stepping fully into your view as the wine bearers scurried out of his way.

I can’t believe I’m here with him.

Though you were surrounded by opulence and luxury, water as clear as blue crystal, fabrics woven with golden thread, fruits and flowers that dripped nectar, the most dazzling thing in the Water Gardens was striding towards you on a pair of long legs, hips and arms confidently swaying with each step. He grinned as he noticed you watching him, dark eyes brightening with sunfire at the way your lips fell open. “There you are.” He sighed as he got closer to you, letting his gaze slide down your body before flicking back up to your face. “I have been looking for you.”

Keep reading

#oberyn martell #pedrostories #oberyn martell x you #oberyn martell x female reader #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell fic #game of thrones fic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fic #cssom #om0122 #css0122

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cannedsoupsucks · 3 years ago

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Don't go into the water!

The Lost Island

Chapter 4 - Falling

Summary: Marcus is fighting against himself, and trying to help him turns out to be a mistake.

Author's Note: This is late and I apologize for that. I'm fighting some demons of my own and they steal my inspiration now and then.

Rating: Mature 18+ONLY Warnings: cursing, angst, near-death experience, anger, shame, guilt. Word Count: 4360 Masterlist (this story) Author’s Masterlist

You fell with your eyes wide open, watching the ground rise up to meet you, stupidly trying to work out where you’d land, what piece of vegetation or rock you’d be crushed against. Your heart kept racing, but your body felt ice cold and somehow the air seemed to pass too quickly for you to manage to pull it into your lungs. Which was probably why you didn’t scream, but you did flail, throwing your arms and legs around to try and keep yourself facing the ground.

You had no idea why you needed to see it, but you did, even though it was so terrifying that your own mind was trying to escape into happy memories instead, drawing up images from your childhood and the joys you’d shared with family and friends. Why did it take so fucking long? You hadn’t been thirty thousand feet up this time, but still it seemed to take longer to reach the bottom than it had when the plane fell. And if you were about to meet your end, you’d rather get it over with. But then a pressure suddenly seemed to rise from the ground, breaking your fall until you stopped in mid-air again, still maybe fifty feet up. It kept building until you started rising back up, and you wondered if Marcus really had lost his mind altogether, wanting to torture you by making you relive this experience, over and over. It wasn’t until he’d deposited you back on the edge of the cliff, just a few feet away from his now exhausted self, that you began to hope that he might have changed his mind. He was on his hands and knees, shaking hard either with muscle fatigue or fear, and he was crying. You felt his power disappear the same moment that you hit the ground, and he slumped, crying even harder once he didn’t need to concentrate any more. And you cried too. Mostly because of the stress and horror you’d just suffered, and the relief to be alive, but also with the sorrow of knowing that you really had some blame to bear for all this. The tribe had apparently realized that something was wrong, because a group of them soon came running up the mountain, and Nani came to your side, wrapping her arms around you, while Akela walked up to Marcus and kneeled next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. It was Nani that spoke first, though.

“What happened?”

Your tear-filled eyes lingered on Marcus’s bowed head, and you probably should have been angry, but you just weren’t. Drained and sad and regretful, but not angry. What you felt more than anything else, was sorrow, and a slight urge to protect him, for some reason. Perhaps because the tribe were still strangers, and you had no idea of their customs or rules for attempted murder. And you weren’t nearly callous enough towards the Heroic to wish for any harm to come to him. You might be suspicious of his endless kindness, but you didn’t truly hate him. He just had a knack for getting under your skin.

“I fell. Marcus saved me.”

But Akela wasn’t so easily persuaded. He seemed to have a way of seeing into people, rather than just at them. Something that was uncomfortable, but somehow also comforting, because it made it hard to lie to him. You weren’t lying right now, though, and he knew that.

“That’s not the whole truth, Mana.”

You just kept looking at your colleague, at the defeat in his frame and the pain that positively radiated from his being. No matter what happened next, Marcus would suffer for this. His good heart would torture him, you knew it would, so it made no difference what punishments anyone else might decide to inflict on him.

“It’s the only part that matters.”

Your words were true to you, so the older man couldn’t argue with them. Moreno had tried to kill you, yes, but he’d also stopped, saving himself as much as you, and that really was all that mattered. In your work, you’d had to learn to brush off the excess adrenaline and lingering shock of coming close to death, and this was no different. The images and sensations of falling like that, would haunt your dreams for a while, but it would pass over time. For you. You weren’t sure if it ever would for him.

Over the next few days, you learned all about the island and the aggressive mere-people that had trapped the tribe there, helping you understand Marcus’s rage even more. It was preposterous, forcing people they didn’t want on the island, to stay on the island. It made no sense. But you supposed that they’d imagined the tribe would die off fairly quickly, which would’ve solved their problem. But these Hawaiians were hardy people, and islanders to begin with. They wouldn’t give up easily. Your hosts had brought you to their village, on the northwest side of the mountain, closer to the centre of the island, and it was impressive, especially when you considered that this was a tribe of only about fifty people. They’d built entire houses, one for each family, and not one of the buildings was what you’d consider tiny. Almost all of them had come to help the two of you when you’d been spotted heading up the mountain, but the oldest had stayed behind with the children, while the rest of the tribe decided if you could be trusted or not. They’d obviously come to a decision on that, since you were now regularly attacked by the village children, and their thousand and one questions about the outside world, and you wished that Marcus would help you with them. You’d never been around kids that much, and you felt unsure about everything. What to say, how to say it, when to just shut up or change the subject… He was a father, and a really good one, and you were sure he’d be great with these wide-eyed kids. You’d been in the village for three days, and in that time, you’d barely even seen him. He kept to himself, staying at the outskirts of the village, refusing to talk to anyone. But he did accept food and water, so at least he wasn’t trying to starve or kill himself, in some misguided kind of penance. The children never bothered him, so you assumed that the adults had warned them to stay away from him. Though you weren’t sure if it was because they could see that he needed space, or if they were worried that he might not treat them well.

“Hey, Mana.”

“Hi, Nani.”

“You look like you’re thinking about the great mysteries of life. Mind if I join you?”

At the middle of the village there was a large fireplace surrounded by wooden benches. Even though it was outside, it served as their common room, used for anything where most or all of them wanted or needed to meet. Right now it was just you that sat there, and you gestured for her to sit down next to you.

“I’m just worried about my colleague. What is it you call him?”

“Kahele.”

“Why? What does that mean?”

“Something tells me that you might not be ready to know that yet.”

That made no sense to you, but her expression was genuine and warm, and since you’d only asked out of curiosity, you decided to let it go.

“You’re still calling me Mana, even though I’m not in need of healing anymore.”

“There’s more than one type of healing. But you’re right, it isn’t customary for us to keep that name attached to anyone past the healing process. It would seem my father sees more in you than he’s saying.”

“Wait, Akela’s your father? I didn’t clock that.”

“He’s a strange man. Hard to grasp, even for me.”

“I’ll say. He seems almost… magic.”

You suspected that the Chief could be a super, but that gene hadn’t been discovered fifty years ago, so there was no way the tribe could know about supers. And given how strong their spiritual beliefs were, you felt reluctant to try and convince them that some of the magic in this world didn’t come from Gods of either land or sea. Also, who could say with any certainty that it didn’t?

“He’s always had a way of seeing things that others can’t. He doesn’t think of it as anything strange or unusual, he thinks that everyone could learn to do it if we just learned to see with our souls and not our eyes.”

“Sounds simple enough.”

She chuckled at that.

“Doesn’t it? I don’t know how he does it, and I doubt I ever will, but I do know that there’s power in names, and the ones he’s given you and your friend are very strong ones. He chose them with care and even if we don’t understand his reasoning, we have to respect it.”

“Well, whatever Kahele means, he’s not doing so good.”

“No. He’s suffering badly. He won’t talk to us, but I think you know why he’s feeling like this.”

“I have a pretty good idea, based on what I know about him, but I doubt I could help him.”

“Why not?”

“Because my perception of him has always been a bit… skewed. I don’t see him the same way everyone else does, even though I have no reason not to.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I, really. I’ve just never trusted him, and I don’t know why, but that feeling has been strong enough to make me relentlessly provoke him, looking for some reaction to something that I don’t even know what it is, and which might only exist in my own head. And even though I know that, even though I know he’s done nothing to me, I still picked a fight with him on the plane. It was my fault we crashed, and now he’ll never see his family again.”

She looked out over the village while she thought about your words.

“So, he’s angry with you. He blames you for getting stranded here?”

“Yeah.”

“And you think that’s fair of him?”

“I think we both bear the blame, but unlike him, I have nothing to lose. So, maybe he’s right.”

“Mana… please don’t deflect the question again. Tell me, was it Kahele that pushed you off that cliff before he saved you?”

You hesitated, but then decided that maybe it was better if she knew. If someone knew.

“He was out of his mind with heartbreak and rage…”

“That doesn’t make it okay.”

“No, it doesn’t, but it also doesn’t make him evil.”

“It takes a lot of darkness to make your body capable of pushing someone off a mountain. We’re not naturally murderous beings.”

“You don’t know what’s happened to him before this. He lost his wife a few years ago. His daughter is his whole world, and if his heart decided that I’m the reason he’ll never see her again, then that darkness makes as much sense as anything else.”

“He tried to kill you.”

“No. He tried to kill himself. And I’m not so sure that he didn’t succeed.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nani, to the outside world Marcus is a hero. He helps people for a living, that’s who he is. He’s never mean to anyone, he never breaks any rules, he’s never even gotten a parking ticket. But he tried to kill me. What do you think that does to a man like that?”

Her eyes turned soft and sad as she took in the meaning of your words.

“I would think it eats him up from the inside.”

“Exactly.”

“I don’t understand… you said that you don’t trust him, but you’re sitting here defending him, even after he did something horrible to you. Why?”

“I don’t know. I guess I’ve always wanted to trust him, otherwise I wouldn’t have worked so hard on trying to figure out what it is that bugs me about him.”

You leaned forwards, putting your elbows on your knees and letting your head fall into your hands.

“I have absolutely no credible reason to distrust him, but I still can’t stop feeling like there’s something about him I’m missing.”

She was quiet for a few beats before responding.

“Sometimes, our bodies know things that our brains don’t. Perhaps you sense something in him that other people can’t.”

You sighed and pulled back up to sitting upright.

“I really hope not.”

“Why?”

You took your time to find the right words before answering her. To make sure she understood.

“Because I need him to be a good guy. I need my suspiciousness to be proven unnecessary, because if Marcus Moreno turns out to have true evil inside of him, then this world really is doomed.”

She put her hand on top of yours, now resting on your thigh, squeezing it for a moment before she got up and walked away, apparently having decided that you needed some time alone with your thoughts, for now. You thought about calling after her, just to ask her not to repeat what you’d said to anyone else, but you didn’t. You were a stranger to them, after all, so if they felt the need to share what you said among themselves in order to better understand you, then that was no more than fair. You were quite surprised with yourself for being so comfortable and unsuspicious around these strangers, when normally, you would’ve questioned everything about them and everything they said, from the moment you met them. But you’d never been in a situation like this before and having friends and allies might be your only hope of surviving on this island, so maybe your kneejerk scepticism had taken a backseat for now. Or, maybe nearly dying had changed your perspective for the time being. You stayed there for a while, just looking at the tribe as they went about their day. The island was volcanic and therefor boasted very fertile land, but the Hawaiians still couldn’t grow anything, simply because they didn’t have and seeds from any type of food-producing plants. The edible plants that grew wild on the island were abundant enough that no farming was needed to sustain them, and there were enough palm trees to produce more than enough coconuts for everyone each year. But there were no animals of any kind, not even bugs, which seemed like an evolutionary impossibility. Perhaps the Kaiaka had something to do with that. At this point, you were about ready to blame them for everything, just to have something to shift your own guilt onto.

<><><><><>

Marcus was still boiling inside, but for different reasons now. The anger had faded into despair, a feeling that didn’t burn so much as darken his heart, making everything seem cold and colourless. But what was now consuming his being in a hurricane of fire, was the guilt. The guilt of having left his only child without a parent. Her grandmother would care for her, he knew that, but it would still have a tremendous effect on Missy to spend her teenage years without real parents. She had a strong heart and a smart and level head on her shoulders, and she’d be okay, he was sure of it, but that didn’t make it feel like any less of an abandonment. And then there was you… He wanted to hate you so much, wanted to blame you for absolutely everything, and he almost had. He’d almost managed to convince himself that you were a demon in disguise, and that if he just got rid of you, everything would somehow be fine. He’d never felt rage like that before that moment. He’d been angry and there had been times when he’d taken it out on his enemies, but never like this. Never with the intent to kill. The power that had shot through him when he’d hurled you into the sky had been ten times stronger than anything he’d managed before, and that scared him. But what scared him even more than that, was that he’d gotten that angry to begin with. Because he hadn’t felt it coming. It was like he’d been possessed or something, unable to recognise his own responses or feelings or reactions, suddenly just overloading in every way imaginable. And if it could happen once then it could happen again, and what if he didn’t manage to gain control of himself the next time? All of that churned around in his mind, making him feel sick and weak, but what really made him disgusted with himself, was the eternal echo in his ears of the way you’d responded to his cruelty.

Marcus saved me.

You’d forgiven him. Right after, while you were still terrified and shocked, and you’d meant it. You’d sounded frightened and frail, but somehow not angry at all, even though he’d unjustly blamed you and then tried to kill you. You’d forgiven him without question. Why? Even if Akela was right, and you didn’t really hate him, you still would’ve had more than enough cause to rail against his actions for the rest of your life. He wouldn’t have thought it unfair if you’d beaten him to a pulp once he’d dropped you back on the cliff. But you just… didn’t. You didn’t do anything but accept what he’d done. And it baffled him. He’d only seen you from afar since that day, too scared of himself to get any closer to you, but he’d seen how quickly you’d recovered. How you smiled and awkwardly tried to play along with the children, clearly having no idea what to do, but trying your best to make them laugh and have fun all the same. You weren’t scared. Not of him, not of the island or the tribe, not even of the prospect of never going home. But when he watched you from the shadows, when you were alone, you were so sad. You didn’t cry, but the sadness filled your frame until it looked like you might break in half, something he’d never seen from you before. He’d been wrong to call you selfish that day, because he knew damn well that you considered your task of keeping everyone under your care safe, the most important thing in your life. He didn’t know much about your personal life, but he knew that you were on duty every single day of the week, all year, sometimes pulling double shifts to make sure that everyone was safe, before you left the building after an event. And that kind of commitment didn’t leave much space for anything personal. Caring for everyone else was all you ever did, so perhaps you really had meant it when you took the blame for stranding you both there, despite all the animosity that he was certain you still had against him. Which would mean there was a good chance that the sadness he saw in you now, was your own guilt. But you’d been so wrong to take that stance, because he was just as much to blame as you, and you knew that. You had to know that. Seeing your regret eat away at you, even though he was the one that had overreacted and been unspeakably cruel, made him feel wretched inside. This was not the kind of person Marcus was. He was kind and considerate and maybe too much of a pushover, but at least he wasn’t a bully or a narcissist. But now that he sat there in his little hideaway under the shading leaves of some large plant or perhaps small tree, just outside the village, for the first time since he’d been a teenager, he doubted the goodness of his own heart. And that scared him even worse than the ferociousness of his rage or the terrifying scope of his powers. How had he become this monster?

“Can I talk to you?”

He flinched as he heard your voice, almost reflexively trying to move away from you, even though you were still a good twelve feet away while you waited for his answer. He wasn’t sure if he could talk to you, he could barely even look at you, turning his head away the moment after he’d realised who had approached him. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t listen. He owed you at the very least that much. He nodded, and you took a few steps closer before sitting down opposite him. There were plants everywhere, but those in between you were small and well out of your line of sight.

“First off, I just want you to know that I’m not angry with you.”

Fuck. Straight off the bat you hit him with a question he couldn’t control his reaction to, and self-loathing flooded his blood and made his temper flare, which was exactly what he was afraid of. But he still didn’t manage to stop himself from setting his hard eyes on you and letting the words spill.

“Don’t say that. You should be angry with me, I tried to kill you. For fuck’s sake, you should hate me!”

Great. He was already angry. But also amazed that you didn’t shy away from him.

“Well, I don’t. And there’s no need to yell. I get that you’re hurting right now, undoubtedly more than I can even imagine, and I’m sorry for the part I played in stranding us here. But your anger is your own, and if you can’t deal with it, then either finish what you started or let it go.”

He huffed, more in frustration than anger.

“It’s that easy, is it?”

“No. There’s not a single shred of all this that’s easy, but the fact is: we’re alive. And as long as we are, there’s hope. We’ve only been here a week, who’s to say we won’t be able to negotiate with the Kaiaka down the line? Your powers are incredible, I’ve never seen you this strong before, so maybe you can persuade them to let us go. Or if they won’t, maybe you can force them to. Are you seriously telling me that you’re prepared to just roll over and die just because someone might try and stop you from going home?”

You were so calm and confident when you spoke, and he suddenly felt completely idiotic. How was it that he hadn’t even considered any of this? While he’d been busy convincing himself that everything was lost and looking for any way to relieve the pain of what was thus far only an imagined loss, you’d been doing what you always did. You’d assessed your situation and started looking for solutions, strategies, plans, options.

“What’s happened to you, Marcus? You’re a leader and a fighter and a hero. When did you become a quitter?”

All anger fell away as if by magic, and all that remained was the guilt and the sadness, bringing tears to his eyes and a terrible pressure over his chest while he stared at you, so confused that he didn’t even know what he felt anymore. He leaned back against the plant and buried his face in his hands, pulling up his knees and trying his best not to let himself succumb to absolute despair. He felt so ashamed. Warm arms encircled his shoulders from the side as you pulled him into a hug, and like a little boy seeking solace from his mother’s embrace, he leaned into your touch and let you hold him for a minute. But then he remembered how undeserving he was of any kindness, yours more than anyone else’s, and abruptly shoved you aside before he rushed to his feet and ran away, again like a petulant child. Leaves and branches brushed over his bare forearms where he’d pushed the sleeves of the Henley up, as he darted aimlessly through the vegetation, trying to outrun something he couldn’t even name. Eventually, he broke through the underbrush and out onto the same beach where he’d pulled you ashore just a week earlier, and the change in surface under his feet upset his balance. He fell forwards onto his hands and knees and stood like that, shaking and sobbing with that same relentless pain he couldn’t name and didn’t understand the origin of. How could he have accepted your attempt to comfort him… How could he be that selfish? He had no right to take even an ounce of kindness from you after what he’d put you through, and what the hell were you thinking, offering it to him in the first place? How could you even stomach being around him, much less treat him so graciously? A splashing that differed from the sounds of the waves rolling in, reached his ears and he looked up to see a tailfin disappearing under a churning mass of water. Momentarily stunned out of his self-loathing, he got to his feet and walked closer to the shore, scanning the surface for any sign that a pod of dolphins might be playing in the swells. He couldn’t see anything, and suddenly the anger was back. Because if it was one of the mere-people, he wanted to strangle it, break its neck and shove it back into the ocean, back to its people as a warning to anyone who might try and keep him there. You’d reminded him that he wasn’t helpless, sparking hope inside him again. Marcus was going home to Missy, and nothing was going to stop him. Nothing. He stood there, with his feet just outside of the water’s reach, when a head and torso breached the surface in between the waves just ten yards out, and he stopped breathing. It was a female… and the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. He didn’t mean to, wasn’t even sure that he wanted to, but he felt almost pulled into the water, and barely even noticed when it filled his shoes and continued up his calves, as he waded out through the swell.

—————

Link to Chapter 5

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