#female Cardinals

[whatnext10]

The Wonderful Cardinal Pair are Getting Ready for Winter

The Wonderful Cardinal Pair are Getting Ready for Winter shows the female cardinal that lives near the author/artist’s home as she eats at a feeding station. It notes that she looks a bit patchy due to molting and using feathers for lining the nest.

End of the Season My resident pair of cardinals, who I call Momma and Poppa (very original, I know), have finished up the breeding season and are now literally empty nesters. About a month ago they were bringing a couple of fledglings with them to the feeding station, but I haven’t seen anyone but the adults in a little bit. That’s probably good, too, since both Momma and Poppa are looking a…

[chickenmeow]

[honeyynymphh]

| The Wager |

Cardinal Copia x FemReader rating: E words: 4k tags: dom copia, oral sex (m receiving), confessional sex, choking, rough sex, copia is a sneaky shit AO3

Summary: A new Sister of Sin, you feel you are not living up to the expectations of your new church and seek out confession to unburden yourself. Little do you know, that the Cardinal has something he needs to confess to you.

I started writing this ages ago and its been so close to finished for ages. Seeing the new movie made me feel motivated to complete it.

Not my best work but hey, I did some writing :)

It's a bit silly but c'est la vie!

Your hands grip the edge of the pew as you take a steadying breath. You’d been sitting here for nearly an hour, watching sibling after sibling as they entered and left the confessional box. It seemed so large and imposing in the low light of the abbey’s candelabras. You knew you needed to speak, to confess. Yet you were anxious. A new Sister of Sin, and not just any new Sister—but one that had converted from the local church.

A few months have passed since you left your old life behind you to join the strange, yet welcoming, abbey upon the hill. Everyone had accepted you without question—you were not the first to leave behind an old god and you would not be the last—yet old habits and the lingering guilt were hard to forget. Your hands tighten their grip on the pew and you watch as another sibling leaves the confessional. They give you a brief smile before they pass and you realise you are the only one left, the only sound is their fading footsteps before the chapel is silent.

It was now that you had to go before the confessional closed for the evening, it was so late already. You could wait until next week, yet you felt you couldn’t keep this bubbling away inside. You needed to speak to someone—and you had spoken with Papa Terzo before. He had been charming and kind, and very flirty, something that made you flush quite a bit. But he never made you feel silly or stupid for not knowing the customs of your new home. You were sure this would be no different, yet the anxiety still lingered.

You made yourself stand, sliding out of the pew and walking over to the confessional. Your hand hesitates before you gently knock on the side of the detailed wood.

“Enter.”

The low word is muffled but you hear it and step inside. The door shuts quietly behind you and you take your seat, glancing at the shadowy outline of Papa on the other side. It smells like chapel incense and some other scent that has you taking a deep breath as the scent comforts you in the warmth of the confessional. 

With your hands clasped in your lap, you speak, “Forgive me, Papa, for I have sinned.”

“This must be your first time, Sister.”

You pause. The voice is not Papa Terzo as you had expected but Cardinal Copia. You grip the fabric of your habit in embarrassment. While you were too busy worrying, you had not noticed that Cardinal Copia was the one taking confession and not Papa.

“Forgive me, Cardinal,” you say.

“There is nothing to forgive,” he says. “And we do things a little differently here. Sinning is very much encouraged.”

“Sorry, Your Eminence, I am still stuck in my old ways,” you reply hesitantly, the knot in your stomach growing tighter.

“Does this bother you, Sister?”

You nod and then realise he can’t see you. “I’m finding it hard to adjust, it is so similar yet so different to my old life.”

“That is to be expected, change affects us all,” he says. “It will improve over time, you haven’t been with us long.”

You know that’s true. You also realise this is the first conversation you’ve ever had with the Cardinal. He always seemed to keep to himself or haunt the library. You’d only ever exchanged greetings with him before. He made you nervous, Papa Terzo was so much more approachable than Cardinal Copia. Anyone was…well, perhaps not Papa Secondo. But Cardinal Copia was so silent and quiet, he only ever really seemed to come alive during sermons or when he taught classes. His intensity was intimidating and the way he would sometimes cut down a fellow sibling during a lesson could be nerve wracking. But how his impassioned words held your attention, it was impossible not to be drawn to the Cardinal. You wanted to be noticed by him yet never have his gaze upon you. So you’re surprised at how kind his words are, though you know it is his job. It’s much easier to talk to him when you aren’t forced to look at his imposing expression.

“I know, Cardinal,” you say. “I just worry I’m not…meeting expectations.”

“How so?”

You shift in your seat. This had been much easier when you’d been imagining it in your head. And while the Cardinal words were polite, there was still an edge to his voice that made you shift on the wooden seat.

“In my worship,” you say, feeling your face flush. “I know many siblings prefer to do so, er, together.”

“Ah.”

“All forms of sin are encouraged, mia cara, not just the ones of the flesh.” His voice is low and you scoot a little closer towards it, unable to help but smile at the endearment. “You do not need to be writhing upon an altar while someone feasts upon your divine sex to please the Olde One.”

Maybe not but it’s suddenly all you can think about. It was one thing to leave your old life behind because you did not wish to live a life without pleasure, yet to have it fully thrust upon was hard to contend with. The abbey lived life to the fullest and held no shame, but you were not ready to participate in certain rituals. Though, you had certainly thought of them with the Cardinal in mind. But you knew he never attended such things.

How you wished that he did.

“Thank you, Your Eminence,” you reply, sensing it was time to leave. “Siamo con il nostro Dio Scuro,” he says and you can dimly see his gloved hand move in the darkness to make the sign of the grucfix. “Nema.”

You stand and make to leave but he speaks, making you pause.

“Sister.”

The sharp word hangs in the small space and you glance at his shadowy figure on the other side of the confessional.

“Yes, Cardinal?”

He clears his throat and his words are short, awkward. This has your brow furrowing in confusion. 

“Do you have time to stay a moment? I know it is late.”

“Yes, I can.” You sit back down, apprehension knotting in your stomach.

“I feel I must confess something to you.”

Confess? To you? Cardinal Copia? The apprehension knots even further. What could he possibly confess?

“Oh?” is all that manages to escape your mouth. Your head twists so that you are facing the latticed partition. Your hands grip the edge and you lean closer without even realising your face is nearly touching it.

“I heard that Papa Terzo and Papa Secondo have a wager, in regards to you,” says the Cardinal.

“A wager?” you ask, confused.

“Si,” he says, his words still sounding oddly stilted. “There is no polite way to say it, Sister, but they’re betting on who can fuck you first.” He sighs. “They do it after every initiation of a new group of siblings.”

“What?” it comes out as a squeak.

“They pick someone and whoever fucks them first wins.”

You’re shocked but also strangely thrilled at the thought. You haven't really spoken to either Papa. Secondo was so…Secondo, you don’t think you can recall ever having spoken to him. And Terzo was always surrounded by admirers that you had only really spoken to when you first joined or after Dark Mass, since he was the reigning Papa. While he has always been so friendly to you, you did not think he even knew your name.

“Why me?” you can’t help but ask.

“You come from the village church,” says Copia with a sneer. “They think it would be quite the challenge—” he pauses and then quickly asks, “are you a virgin? Is this why you are reluctant to worship in such a fashion?”

“No!” you say quickly. You hadn’t had much as much experience as your new siblings but you had some. It had been one of the reasons for leaving your old faith behind. You feel your face colour in embarrassment.

“There is nothing to be ashamed of if you are. We are not heathens… not completely. You are not forced to do anything you do not wish to. You are not required to join the rituals if you do not wish to.”

“You don’t participate,” you say hesitantly. It’s not a question but you desperately want to know why he doesn’t join them.

“How could I compete with Papas?” he gives a short derisive laugh. “Pretty Sisters do not want a cardinal when they can have a Papa, eh?”

You say nothing but can’t help but smile. He called you pretty! How could someone not want him? Perhaps he was a little quiet and somewhat intimidating. But you can’t deny the way you have had to press your thighs together when he would sometimes speak. Your thoughts return to his earlier words of worship upon an altar. You shiver at the thoughts, feeling the warmth of arousal begin to burn low.

“Sister?”

“Sorry, Cardinal.” You take a deep breath. “Thank you for telling me this. You are wrong though, many would want you.”

“That is kind of you, mia cara. But I am well aware of my reputation.” You hear a low chuckle, you’d never really heard him laugh before. “Which you best not ruin just because I have chosen to share this with you. I’ve merely had enough. And you didn’t seem like you would be one for their stupid games.”

You sat there. You were surprised that the Papas would even have such a wager, it didn’t seem like something these people would do. But Terzo did seem to always be surrounded by fawning siblings and had such a charming air about him. And Secondo…he always seemed to have someone—or several someone’s—with him. And his gravelly voice was quite enthralling. A silly brotherly game, you supposed.

But, why you? It was true you’d come from the local church, having had your doubts for quite a while until you’d spied the strange abbey upon the hill and felt drawn to it.

The partition suddenly slid across revealing the Cardinal in his splendid red robes. He looked like the Devil himself standing there while you remain seated. He quirks an eyebrow at you in question.

“Sister?”

You stand quickly and the small booth means you are so very close to him. The spicy yet woody scent you had smelt earlier was not the chapel's incense but him. The warmth of his body seems to amplify it, along with the fresh scent of clean linen and the tang of sweat that clings to his cassock. It feels far too warm here in the confessional. Why did he open the partition?

“Are you alright, Sister?” His low voice is overwhelming when you are so close, a hand gently grabs hold of your shoulder and squeezes lightly. “I hope I have not misspoken nor upset you by telling you this.”

You shake your head, trying to clear the fog. His hand is gloved—as always—yet the heat radiates from it. It feels so large on your shoulder and you can’t help the thought of that hand touching you elsewhere. You hastily look down as you feel the blush spread across your cheeks.

“No, Your Eminence,” you say. You steal yourself when the thought hits you. quickly leaning forward to kiss his cheek before you can talk yourself out of it. “Thank you, again.”

You risk a glance at his face and his expression hasn’t changed. But he doesn’t look disgusted so before you lose your courage, you move again and press your lips briefly against his, feeling his moustache tickle your skin before you’ve already pulled back.

He speaks, voice a low growl that makes your stomach flip. “Don’t do that, Sister.”

Oh. Instantly any hope you had is crushed. It was a stupid thing to do! You look down again and mumble an apology under your breath. You move to leave but his hand is still on your shoulder and it holds you in place, the other hand coming to your chin so his fingers can tilt your face up to meet his gaze.

“You can’t tease an old man like that,” he says, the hint of a smile on his lips. “Go kiss a Papa, mia dolce.”

“I don’t want to kiss a Papa,” you say. “I want to kiss you, Cardinal.”

Suddenly he seems different, more how he appears during sermons with that raw intensity you find so alluring. His touch is firm and sure as he pulls you into his side of the booth. Effortlessly he sits, pulling you into his lap so that you’re straddling him. His hands glide up your legs to then grip your hips so he can pull you flush against him.

“Give me a kiss then, dolce.”

Heart racing, you eagerly lean forward and press your mouth against his again. This time he responds, lips moving under yours. You can taste the bitterness of the paint on his top lip but it’s barely noticeable when his tongue is trying to slide into your mouth. You’re swept up in the taste of him and the insistent way he devours you, teeth occasionally biting and pulling at your bottom lip. It makes a thrill run down your spine and you press yourself closer to him.

When he pulls back, you’re breathless. His eyes are nearly the same, both so blown wide by lust that you can barely determine the colour of them in the dimness of the booth.

“Grazie, Sorella,” he says.

You feel like you are on fire. Your entire body is singing from one kiss. Lucifer, you want more. Without even thinking you move your hips forward, so you are sliding even closer to him, nearly falling off him in your desire to get closer. His thigh is right under your aching sex and you can’t help but grind down on it.

His moustache twitches as a small smile appears on his face. “You want more than a kiss, si?”

“Yes, Cardinal,” you say breathlessly as he pushes his thigh back against you making you pant out a moan.

“I thought you did not wish to worship this way?” he asks though he doesn’t sound concerned like he did before, his voice is edging on teasing. As if he already knows why.

“I—” your words fumble as you feel another flush suffuse your face. You are already in his lap and he just had his tongue half way down your throat—now was not the time to be the ignorant village girl. You swallow your nerves and say, “I want to worship with you, Cardinal.”

A sly grin unfurls on his face and that makes your heart race.

He brings up over his laps properly so your hips are slotted against his. The position makes you moan as you can feel the hardness of his cock through the layers of his cassock

“I worship a little differently to what you may be used to, dolce,” he purrs against your ear while a hand wraps around your neck. He squeezes, not too tightly but enough to get the point across. “You can leave now if you wish.”

You shake your head. “I don’t want to leave, Cardinal.”

“Good girl.”

A shiver runs down your spine at his praise, which he clearly notices. He thrusts his hips up against yours and your hands grip at the fabric of his pelegrina. The friction feels far too good but you want more and press down against him clumsily, making him let out a low laugh.

He brings his face close to yours, his nose pressing against your temple and his breath ghosts against your ear.

“Will you get on your knees for me, dolce?”

It’s so warm in the confessional that any sane thoughts have left you. It’s like he managed to bewitch you—you’d do anything he asked. And so you nod and slowly slide off of him to the floor. There isn’t much space in the confessional and it’s all stuffy but you feel even hotter as you watch him lift the fabric of his cassock. Underneath are his usual tight pants and you can see the large bulge straining against the fabric. Dazed and body singing with lust, you can’t help but lick your lips when he unzips them, letting his cock free.

You stare at it and you feel his hand reach for your wimple and yank it off so your hair can spill free. The leather of his gloved hands is soft as a finger traces your face before a hand winds tightly in your hair to bring your head closer towards his flushed cock. Your hands grip his thighs as you lick the head, the groan that leaves Copia’s throat emboldening you so that you lick it again before gripping the base to take it into your mouth.

The hand in your hair tightens further and you lick the underside of his cock as you suck, teasing him as best you can. Every sigh and moan that comes from him feels like a prayer and you increase your movements even though your own sex demands attention. You can feel the wetness seeping through your knickers and you desperately squeeze your thighs together, the hand not pumping his cock digging into his thighs as you moan around him.

“Do you need help, dolce?” he growls from above you.

You feel him shift, forcing your mouth to leave him, as the toe of one his boots finds its way between your knees to press up against your cunt. Immediately you grind down against him, desperately trying to ride against the leather while your hand still fists his cock.

It’s not enough though and you feel he can sense your desperation in the way he laughs.

“You need more from your Cardinal, si?”

“Yes, please, Your Eminence” you breathe, grinding down against him again.

His hands move to pull you up on your feet and when he commands that you remove your panties, you do. Stepping out of them hurriedly and leaving them on the floor before he is tugging you back into lap and pushing the skirt of your habit up to bunch around your waist. He makes no effort to be gentle, gripping your hips tightly and positioning you over his slick cock before he is bringing you down. You are more than ready for him but it has been so long since the last time you had fucked anyone.

“Cazzo,” he hisses, one of his hands coming between you to circle your clit.

The jolt of pleasure has you sinking onto him further, opening you up to him so that he is fully seated within you. You moan as he continues to rub at your bundle of nerves, your hips grinding down on him as you try to take your pleasure. Your blood is boiling with a neediness you have never felt so acutely before and when you begin to ride him in earnest, he is matching your thrusts with his own.

“Good girl,” he says, the low voice making your cunt throb in response.

A gloved hand is back at your throat, holding you tightly and making your head spin. You feel lightheaded and your own movements become disjointed in the delirium surging through your veins. But it doesn’t matter, as Copia’s grip on your hips and throat have you held in place with ease as he fucks up into you.

You know you are going to come soon, you can feel the delicious tension low in your stomach and your spine tingles with anticipation. The easy slide of his cock in your cunt is addictive, and you can feel him swelling further, bringing you even closer to the edge.

When his hand leaves your throat to hold both sides of your hip and bring down against him so he can fuck you hard and fast, you come fast. Your hands grips at him, hands fistings in the fabric of his pelegrina as you lean forward to bury yourself against his neck. He keeps fucking you as your ride the wave of your release until you feel him spilling within you. You cling to him as he takes his own pleasure, muttering unintelligible Italian. Sweat is damp on your neck as his movements start to slow and the only sound left is both of your heavy breathing.

“Grazie, mia dolce,” he whispers, his moustache tickling your cheek.

You lean back to see the smirk on his face before awkwardly standing, suddenly embarrassed at what had come over you. You just fucked Cardinal Copia in the confessional!

“I—” your words falter and you look down on the floor, grabbing your wimple and trying to find your knickers. “Thank you, Your Eminence.”

You pin the wimple back on your head while the Copia is waiting, not a hair out of place, as he smooths down the front of his cassock. You notice something in his hand—your underwear. You go take it but he tuts at you and pockets them with a smirk.

“Penance, Sister,” is all he says before opening the door for you.

It is much cooler in the empty church, a welcome relief on your heated skin and you can’t wait to return to your bed, unable to look at the Cardinal while his seed drips down your thighs.

You nearly jump when you hear a voice echoing in the silence. “Buonasera, I was locking up.” It is Papa Secondo, a set of large keys in one hand as he stands at the other end of the church by the large doors. You walk with Copia towards him, holding your hands in front of you. 

“I was just holding confession with our new Sister, Papa,” says Copia smoothly. “But we are finished now.”

You don’t trust yourself to look at either of them and so you hurriedly offer a goodnight to both men before scurrying down the hallway and towards your room.

The next day feels like any other, though you are sore and bruised, you can’t help the anticipation of seeing the Cardinal again in your next lesson.

“Sorella!” 

The voice startles you and you turn to see Papa Terzo heading your way, a bouquet of flowers in his hand as he comes down the hallway. He stops in front of you, gives an overdramatic bow that you cannot help but smile at. He proffers the flowers with a flourish.

“For you, bella!” he says. “I saw them out in the garden and had to pick them for you.” They’re dozens of red roses all neatly wrapped. “Did you wrap and add the card yourself too, Papa?”

“Si, si,” he says seriously but then he winks, earning a small laugh from you. “Beautiful flowers for a beautiful girl!”

You spy Secondo heading your way as well and try not to let any embarrassment mar your features. There is no way he could possibly know what happened last night. He's scowling but he always looks like that so it’s hard to tell if he is actually upset or not. He gives you a polite nod.

“Sorella,” he greets with a small nod at you before glaring at his brother. “Idiota.”

“Secondo,” replies Papa Terzo, “as you can see I am busy talking to the lovely Sorella, andare via.” The older Papa sighs. “Non si disturbi.”

“Eh?” “Il ratto ti ha battuto.”

Terzo’s face immediately goes from charming to enraged. “Il ratto?”

It feels like both men have suddenly forgotten you are standing there. You do not wish to simply leave and so you stand there awkwardly, wondering if you should tell them you know of their ridiculous bet.

“Si,” says Secondo as Terzo starts to go red around the ears, “quel bastardo l'ha fottuta nel confessionale ieri sera.”

“Pah! Sta mentendo. Non può farmi questo... di nuovo!”

Secondo ignores his brother’s outburst and looks at you. His voice is much softer than how he addressed Terzo when he asks, “Sorella, I trust your confession last night with the Cardinal was rewarding?”

Your face colours immediately and you stammer out a reply. “Yes, Papa, it was.”

“Vedi,” he says to Terzo with a half hearted shrug. “La ragazza sembrava completamente fottuta e lui ne era completamente compiaciuto, il bastardo. Inoltre, entrambi puzzavano di sesso, Terzo. Non userò il confessionale finché non sarà pulito.”

Terzo glares at the ground. “Cazzo.”

“Mmm. È sempre molto più bravo con quelli silenziosi di te, quella piccola merda.”

They both look at you and you stand there awkwardly. Maybe you should say something and tell them you are flattered but they should not be betting on such things. But before you can even muster the words, Terzo gives you a tight smile.

“Forgive me, bella, but it seems there is a rat problem I must deal with.”

You watch them walk away, bickering in fast Italian to each other, as you stand there utterly confused.

andare via - go away Non si disturbi - Do not bother Il ratto ti ha battuto - The rat beat you Si, quel bastardo l'ha fottuta nel confessionale ieri sera. - Yes, that bastard fucked her in the confessional last night. Sta mentendo. Non può farmi questo... di nuovo! - He’s lying. He can’t do this to me…again! Vedi - You see? La ragazza sembrava completamente fottuta e lui ne era completamente compiaciuto, il bastardo. Inoltre, entrambi puzzavano di sesso, Terzo. Non userò il confessionale finché non sarà pulito. - The girl looked thoroughly fucked and he was utterly smug about it, the bastard. Also, they both reeked of sex, Terzo. I am not using the confessional until it’s cleaned. È sempre molto più bravo con quelli silenziosi di te, quella piccola merda - He’s always much better with the quiet ones than you are, that little shit.

[dk-thrive]

Cardinals. Breaking Bread. 4:45 pm. April 28, 2024. Darien, CT (@dkct25)

[thomas--bombadil]

A female cardinal tries to stay warm on a bitterly cold day.

[dontyoufeelitangel]

Hello Ghesties, Ghouls & Ghoulettes! Welcome to Angels run-down show-down, where I (Angel) do a run down of the Ghovie for all you lovely folk!!

Didn’t get the chance to see the Ghovie aka Rite Here Rite Now? Fear not for I am here! This post will contain a run-down of what happened during the Ghovie.

So this is your warning:

‼️SPOILERS AHEAD ‼️

I will be breaking this down into separate parts:

Lore: contains all lore that was mentioned

Songs: songs that were played

And Theatrics: stage play and other attributes that happened.

Another fair warning: there is a possibility that not everything that happened in the movie is noted here, I may have forgotten some things!! But I will do my best to include everything🤍

Additional notes: many fans including me were worried that this project would be incredibly low quality due to the fact it’s a movie operated by a band. More so worried that the movie would be the same quality as the YouTube episodes. I can confirm that the camera quality for this movie is amazing. You can compare the filmography to Taylor swifts era tour movie. Each shot for rite here rite now is shot with a high-to-low speed motion camera. The audio quality is above and beyond, even nihils ghost is very detailed and realistic. Every film shot is synchronized with the songs and instruments (example: camera changes for each beat/camera focuses on certain ghouls for their assigned solo)

Lore:

Story: the plot of the ghovie is a showcase of their Kia forum concert mixed with short lore scenes. Between every 2-3 songs there would be a scene of Copia running behind stage and talking with imperator and nihil OR getting dressed and ready for his next performance.

When he talked with imperator and nihil, he mostly talked to them about what would happen after the concert. Nihil and imperator told him numerous times that he was “focusing to much on the past and future instead of living in the moment, living right here, right now.”

Copia realizes this before he does his encore, so he goes out and does a great encore assuming he’ll soon die. After the encore and when the concert is finished, unfortunately imperator dies and gives a note to Copia.

The note states that he will not die, but rather be gifted a new higher status in the clergy. In which he’ll further be known as Frater (Latin for brother, which makes sense if we think about the title for sister imperator). And because there is no head for the ghost project they will bring in a new front man. The movie ends before the front man is revealed and we are left on a cliffhanger.

The lore for the ghovie is very similar and the same to what we already know! Not to much was revealed but here were the key points of what was mentioned:

⭐️the other brothers were not directly mentioned or shown on camera. The only references to the other emeritus brothers was the backdrop for the stage (stained glass windows portraying the previous brothers & nihil)

⭐️it was confirmed that Nihil was copias father and that during the kiss the go-goat music video sister imperator was pregnant with Copia.

⭐️Copia even acknowledges nihil as his dad, in one scene where he says “thanks dad”

⭐️sister imperator ends up passing at the end of the movie but becomes a spirit and is seen with the rest of the spirits (nihil and the twins, yes, the twins seem in the YouTube episodes apparently have died)

⭐️the ghouls were not to involved with the lore except for the fact they all surrounded imperators dead body when she passed. (Idk if this counts as lore but) the ghouls also talked in the movie, only for a small scene though. Bass ghoul (Rain) is the ghoul that talked.

⭐️nihil says that he produced three songs. The third song is the one we see during the credits. Song is : the future is a foreign land, as shown here:

SONGS:

The songs that played were the ones that were played at the Kia forum shows. Songs that where played included:

⚡️imperium (pre - opener)

⚡️Kaisarion (opener/curtain pull) (also if I remember correctly there was a short clip of a harp but I’m not sure if it was being played or not during that song.)

⚡️rats

⚡️faith

⚡️spillways

⚡️Cirice (he ciriced the camera making it look like he Ciriced us)

⚡️Absolution

⚡️ritual

⚡️call me little sunshine

⚡️con clavi con dio

⚡️ watcher in the sky

⚡️ if you have ghosts (acoustic version with two cellos, violin & harp ghoulettes. As well as a background vocalist ghoulette who did absolutely amazing! Also papa gives a speech about how “everyone is important and that their presence at that concert was inspiring”)

⚡️dominion

⚡️ Twenties (body painted skeleton dancers came out and performed on stage, they did cartwheels, threw eachother around and even picked up cardi)

⚡️year zero

⚡️spoksonat

⚡️he is (I cried)

⚡️miasma (nihil told Copia that he didn’t want to die, but even when he did he was still happy because he got to perform and bring joy to people temporarily when they revived him. Nihil also told Copia to focus on the good in life)

⚡️Mary on a cross (animated in a scooby-doo style, where nihil chases around imperator as she fights him and runs away)

⚡️ mummy dust

⚡️respite on the spitalfields

⚡️ kiss the go-goat

⚡️dance macabre (skeleton dancers come out for a second time with silk fans)

⚡️square hammer

THEATRICS:

Some silly theatrics that happened include:

💙Copia huffing the gas from a whip-cream can before performing.

💙jumped in a storage transfer crate and had a whole convo with nihil.

💙has a the tour manager (Ashley) come out on stage and change his shoes for him.

💙only Copia can see the spirits of his family, so when he would talk to nihil or imperator, spectators around him would think he’s crazy and talking to himself.

💙many of the behind the scenes crew of the band were included in the movie such as : Ashley(tour manager), and many of the security guards & jesus( you know who lol)

💙remember when everyone was freaking out about the fact there’d be a blowjob reference? Yeah well there was no actual blow job scene, the warning for the blow job was for when Kyle aka Jesus came out and blew away the confetti.

💙there is also a scene at the end in which Copia is flying away from the concert (I guess that’s his preferred way of transportation lol??) he is flying in the hot air balloon we see in the cover for rite here rite now. He flies into space before falling, ouch!

💙during his flight there’s a montage of sister imperator being pregnant with him, during this montage we see twins. Twin babies, twin children. We are unsure if this is a reference to Tobias’s twins or if Copia has a twin.

.

If I forgot to add anything or got info wrong please feel free to leave a comment and I will correct myself as fast as possible!!

Don’t you feel it Angel? I do⚡️

[earthry]

Papas Accidentally Being Too Rough in Bed (Headcanons)

I have no clue where this spawned from but please enjoy scaring the Papas when they’re accidentally too rough with you and then doing everything they can to make up for it.

mostly sfw, tw for being rough on accident, possessiveness, hurt/comfort.

Primo

It’s wild because you didn’t think Primo could get that rough in bed, given his age. But there are bruises that he apologizes for after, ones he kisses with each apology. He brings out a special cream and gently applies it to the abused skin.

He makes you stay in bed while he pampers you, grabbing yummy snacks and making a cup of your favorite tea. He even hand feeds you, babying you until you tell him that really, you’re okay. You are showered in apologies and words of love and reassurance before being wrapped up into his arms and snuggled to death.

Secondo

Secondo thinks you’re whining to be bratty but when his belt comes away with blood, he’s never dropped anything so fast. He’s quick to untie you, cursing and apologizing profusely. He assesses the damage with worry, grabbing a warm damp towel to clean your backside.

He gently shushes you when you whimper from the sting, kissing your temple and telling you that you’re doing so, so good for him. After sanitizing and bandaging the wound, he’ll clean the two of you up and pull you into his arms in a tight embrace— though he’s careful of your injury.

Apologizes for hurting you, promising that he hadn’t meant to and that it was his fault for misjudging how much strength he was using. You tell him you forgive him and he almost cries— you let him spoil you for the rest of the night and weeks to follow.

Terzo

It’s more of an accident than anything, for how clumsy Terzo is. He’s so eager in bed to please you and make you feel good that when he’s going down on you, he accidentally slams you against the bed frame a little too forcefully. You can’t help the involuntary sound of pain that escapes you and things happen so quickly because next thing you know, you’re in Terzo’s shaking arms as he begs for forgiveness, frantically checking if you’re badly hurt.

After he checks your backside to see that there’s a little bruising he apologizes even more and places the most gentlest of kisses against your skin. You are bundled up in blankets and love afterwards and since then, Terzo’s been very careful when it comes to sexy times.

Copia

With Copia it’s also unexpected but for different reasons. Though he’s certainly enthusiastic in bed, he’s always been gentle and very attentive to pleasing you. While he can get rough every so often, it’s still tame compared to most. He’s a very considerate lover, always checking in, always making sure he’s not gripping you too hard, not holding you too tight.

You didn’t expect him to have such a jealous streak however— despite wanting to tease him. It was Swiss’s idea to flirt with each other to rile him up, which definitely does the trick. And oh boy is it a night to remember. He’s intense and possessive, growling as he fucks you hard, his words melting together as he tells you that you’re his, that he’s going to show you that no one can fuck you better than him, will love you better.

You’re left with bruises on your hips and dark hickies littering your skin. You would laugh at Copia’s expression if it wasn’t so horrified. You reassure him that you enjoyed it, that it was what you wanted. Still, he apologizes and cares for you after— running a bath for you and tenderly helping you wash your hair, gently running fingers over the bruises he’s made. He still looks so guilty but it’s okay because you kiss it all better until he’s out of breath.

[gravehags]

at the altar of venus

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x f!Reader (Curator!Reader)

Rating: EXPLICIT, MDNI

Tags: body worship babyyyy, self-consciousness, body issues, handjobs, fingering, crying, possessiveness, two fools in love and lust, two fools being gross and making each other laugh

Words: 4,251

Summary: When you watch your beloved turn and turn in front of that mirror, you know something is off. Lucky for him, you have much to say on the matter.

a/n: I JUST THINK HANDSOME OLD MAN APPRECIATION TIME with yknow. a side of total filth and desperate desire.

~~~

What a day.

You wiggle your nude body in Copia’s soft sheets, nuzzle into your pillow and look across the room. Your lover is standing before the full-length mirror next to the dresser - also nude - turning his body to consider himself at different angles in the low lamplight. You watch him for a moment, watch the way his fingers card through his graying hair, loose from the grip of the day’s pomade. He runs his hand down his chest thoughtfully and comes to rest at the slight paunch of his belly. He cups the skin and his lips tug downwards into a frown.

“Amore?” he asks quietly, “do you think I’m eh, nice looking? Handsome?”

Any other time you’d laugh out loud at such an absurd question but you can tell from his slumped posture that he’s feeling downtrodden and that simply won’t do.

“The most handsome man I’ve ever seen. And that is not hyperbole. You’re the only man to ever turn my head.”

He sighs heavily through his nose and looks back at his reflection.

“You don’t think I’m…too old for you?”

Now it’s your turn to frown.

“My love…come here.”

He turns to look at you again and you crook your finger and throw back the covers. Fidgeting awkwardly he ambles over and slides into bed and you waste no time in pressing soft kisses to his jaw.

“Shall I tell you how handsome I find you? In great detail - from tip to toe?”

He scoffs and moves to pull the covers up over his chest but you gently rest your hand on his to stop him.

“You eh…you would do that?”

Now you do laugh.

“With pleasure,” you murmur, “let me just–” you pull yourself up and swing your leg over to straddle him, “--there we go. Let’s start here.” You rake your fingernails through his soft, wavy hair and smile when he shivers.

“I love your beautiful, full head of gorgeous thick hair and I love the bits of silver threaded through it most of all. I’ve told you before I’ve always had an, ah, thing for older men and well…what sort of older gentleman aficionado would I be if I didn’t love graying hair? I love the way the light catches on the silver and how it feels between my fingers when you’re uh…busy between my legs.”

He laughs softly through his nose, which is incidentally where your journey takes you next.

“And speaking of when you’re between my legs,” you say, waggling your brows as you drag your fingertip down the slope of his nose, “when this beautiful, stately, elegant thing nudges at my clit…oh. Copia I’ve always loved your nose since day one but what this thing is capable of…”

Your eyes unfocus for a moment as you lean in to kiss it absentmindedly.

“You’re getting distracted, amore mio,” Copia murmurs, eyes glittering. Eyes. Those pretty, mismatched eyes and those long brown lashes…

“As always, you are too kind to me,” he chortles, reaching a hand up to stroke your hair. Sathanas, you didn’t even realize you had said that out loud. “I used to hate my eyes when I was a kid, you know? Always a reminder of the bloodline I was a part of but never really a part of…not according to Nihil anyway. Where others thought the white eye was ‘commanding’ on Secondo or ‘alluring’ on Terzo, it was always eh, ‘unsettling’ on me.”

“Hmm,” you say thoughtfully, “I certainly don’t think you need them but did you ever consider contact lenses?”

“Oh, sì, sì,” he nods, “tried them once too in my twenties but eh…something was just…off. Personally I thought I looked creepier with two green eyes.”

You lean back a little and raise a hand to cover his white eye, and then the green while tilting your head.

“Shoulda got a white contact for the green eye instead so you could go around looking like some sexy demonic husky.”

Copia bursts out in laughter, his chest shaking beneath your palms.

“I thought this was supposed to make me feel better?”

“It is! I made you laugh, didn’t I?” you say with a grin, leaning down to place a slow, soft kiss on his lips that has his hands settling on your hips.

“Love these too,” you breathe when you finally separate, “love how soft and plump they are and I especially love the little freckle right here–” you place the pad of your thumb on his full lower lip, “--God you have no idea how it drove me mad day in and day out whenever we’d work together. Driving me to distraction. All I’d ever want to do when you got close to me is…” You lean forward once more and catch his lip gently between your teeth, sucking on it until you feel his cock twitch against you.

“Mmm,” you pull off him with a wet noise that has him panting into the dimly lit room, “is someone starting to buy into the truth that he’s the most handsome man in the abbey? Perhaps even the world?”

“Don’t push your luck, dolcezza, I’m just eh, excited to have a beautiful, soft, young thing on top of me. One who is very good with her mouth, I might add.”

“Oh, that’s too bad you still don’t believe me when I say you’re beautiful. Try harder and maybe I’ll give you a little treat, hmm?”

He chuckles and tilts his head back.

“I’ll do my best. Done with the face, then?”

“And skip your glorious little mustache and impeccably crafted sideburns? Cardinal, you know I’m a woman who pays attention to the details. To say nothing of the freckles that are scattered over your face and down–” you trail a finger down his throat and tap on his clavicle, “--over your chest and shoulders? I’d kiss every single one if I thought I’d live to accomplish that.” You amuse yourself for a moment by playing connect the dots with the marks until your fingertip slides over and traces the lines of his tattoo.

“You never did tell me the story with this.”

He smiles, thumbs brushing soft circles on your thighs.

“Terzo did it. I had just entered the priesthood and he came to my quarters and got me drunk and convinced–”

“Wait, when you say ‘Terzo did it’ you mean Terzo gave you the tattoo?”

“Sì,” he nods, “He knew how much I loved the Omen movies and always complained that I never did anything wild so…”

You lean forward and inspect the ink.

“That looks…a lot better than anything I would have expected from Terzo.”

Copia snickers.

“His lines were surprisingly steady, but his hand not nearly strong enough. I had a professional touch it up later but that stays between us, sì?”

You give him a salute and lean back, raking your fingernails down his chest.

“Back to the topic at hand,” you murmur, “unholy fuck I love your body hair. It’s so thick and soft and I love the way it scratches just right at my nipples when you’re fucking me into the mattress.”

He sucks in a breath so fast he nearly chokes.

“You’re really not holding back, are you cara mia?”

“Nope,” you confirm, watching the way the tip of his tongue slides out to wet his lips as he eyes your breasts. Briefly, your hands abandon his torso to come up and cup them, thumbing across your hardened nipples. You pull away and grab his hands, placing them where yours once were. Greedily, he palms the flesh as your hips make little circles.

“These,” you breathe, your hands covering his, “these gorgeous, big, strong hands with these thick fingers…I can’t even count how many times I brought myself off to the thought of them.”

“O-oh?” he pants, removing one hand and bringing it up to cup your face, “with the gloves a-and everything?”

You lean into his touch.

“Especially with the gloves. Copia, the way I’d fantasize about being able to feel every stitch and groove of those things when I’d picture them inside of me…” You turn your head to place a kiss to the scar tissue at the center of his palm and his thumb strokes your cheekbone. “Mmm, you got me distracted again. Where was I?”

You look down and remember, scooting backwards down his body to settle in between his thighs. He whines now that you’re only touchable if he sits up, too tired to make an effort. Not, however, too tired for other things, you think as you look down at his hardened cock resting heavy against his belly, smearing pre on the hairs there.

“We’ll address this,” you say, gesturing to his erection, “in a bit. But for now…this.”

Your word is punctuated by the way you run your hands over his slight paunch, grinning as you knead the flesh. Copia’s shoulders twitch as if he’d like nothing more than to fold in on himself, eyes trained up somewhere over your shoulder.

“Your soft tummy is so sweet and perfect and–” you make a noise like a big cat growling, “--I just want to eat it up.”

“Clearly from its appearance I’ve eh, done enough eating for the both of us.”

You frown deeply.

“Copia,” you say, your tone deadly serious, “since when do you have problems with a belly? I hope you don’t have problems with my belly and mine is a lot bigger than yours—“

“Amore, never!” he gasps, horrified, “You…you are perfection. You are soft and plush and-and a goddess. This–” he says, gesturing lamely to his paunch, “--is the result of old age. Old age and too much spaghetti.”

“Yeah, and that’s exactly why it’s hot,” you say, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “My love, this little belly shows that not only have you enjoyed life, reveled in it the way Sathanas intended, but that you’ve survived. Endured. I love this belly the way I love every single line on your face. You wouldn’t be my Copia without them. I didn’t fall in love with some guy in his twenties with a waxed six-pack. Quite frankly…ew. Respectfully, beloved, I fell for the kind, smart, handsome, distinguished gentleman in his almost-fifties. Who is sort of goofy and really good with his tongue. I mean…really good.”

He laughs softly through his nose, regarding you with watery eyes. His lips form the words to thank you but no voice comes out. That’s alright, though. You’re not telling him these truths for your benefit.

“Shall I continue?” you ask gently, smiling when he nods.

Your hands slide down to his thighs, where you massage the flesh.

“You know I hadn’t even seen these - like, really seen them - until our first official date? When you wore those tight, tight pants? Lord have mercy these things are thick. I’d be content to gnaw on them like a dog with a bone if you’d let me.”

“Who says I wouldn’t?” he murmurs, cocking an eyebrow at you.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” you say with a wink, “I’d compliment your juicy ass too if I could get to it so just remind me to give it a healthy smack next time you’re standing, huh? The first time I saw you in profile in your cassock I almost passed out. Goddamn.”

He laughs and tilts his head at you.

“Ti adoro follemente,” he says, “thank you for making this old man love himself, even if it’s just a tiny bit.”

“I’ll take a tiny bit for now, we’ll work on the positive reinforcement.”

“Oh? And what kind of positive reinforcement did you have in mind?”

You ghost your fingers along his half hard cock, wrapping them around the shaft and leaning forward to spit thickly, your saliva landing on the head. The act has Copia moaning and shifting his hips up into your touch as you stroke him back to full hardness.

“Ah, dolcezza,” he sighs, half-lidded eyes watching your hand slide along the shaft, “if only you had known what I fantasized about with your hands.”

“Well go on, bello mio,” you purr, swiping your thumb along the slit to gather the pre leaking from the head. “Tell me.”

He grunts and ruts up into your touch.

“W-we’d be in your office…working on some…some administrative thing. And I’d watch the way those clever little fingers would fly across your keyboard–ah, fuck–and I’d imagine you leaving your desk a-and settling on your knees between my legs. Lifting my cassock up and palming me through m-my trousers. S-sometimes you’d use your mouth too but…always your hands. Always those s-soft fingers wrapped around me j-just like this. I–oh, cazzo–”

His voice cuts off with a moan as you spit on him once again, the wet slide of your pumping hand and his harsh breathing the only sound in the room. With your other hand you reach down to cup his balls, gently caressing them as you continue to stroke the length of him.

“I-I’m not going to last, amore,” he rasps out, thrusting into your grip, “just like that bellezza mia.”

“You’re beautiful,” you murmur, “you’re beautiful, you’re beautiful, you’re beautiful, and I love you just as you are.”

You know the last handful of words will send him over the edge and send him they do, until he’s coming in spurts over your knuckles and gasping your name. You continue to stroke him until he has nothing left to give and when he’s spent, you raise your hand to your face and fastidiously lick every drop of his spend from your fingers as he watches with his mouth hung open. When your tongue passes over your middle finger for the final time he grabs at you, eagerly hauling you up his body and slotting his lips over your mouth in a slow, decadent kiss. When you finally pull away, it’s with a smile and you nudge his nose with yours. Gently, you roll off of him and nuzzle into his side, lazily kissing his shoulder. When he rolls onto his side to face you, you move to do the same but he presses you back down into the mattress.

“Copia, your stamina is impressive but you literally just came I don’t expect–”

He chuckles, gently dragging the bedsheets down to expose your body.

“Your turn, dolcezza.”

“My turn–oh.”

The realization hits you as the fingers of his right hand tease at the underside of your breasts and against your belly, dipping further down to cup at the wet heat of you, driving a gasp from your lips. He leans towards you to inhale deep along your neck, lips ghosting over your hair.

“I wouldn’t even know where to start in praising you, bellezza mia. Sweet - in both disposition and taste, tender in body and heart, beautiful in all ways. Tongue and mind as sharp as a tack and ridiculously amusing. Perfetto–” two of his fingers dip down into your labia majora and you see him smile out of the corner of your eye at how slick you are for him. “My perfect girl. Kind. Perhaps too kind and indulgent to this old man but…” his fingertips circle your clit and your hips spasm, “he will show you just how thankful he is nonetheless, sì?”

You whimper as his fingers tease at your entrance before sliding inside you knuckle deep, palm pressed flush against your clit. An echo of how you would touch yourself to the thought of him not that long ago.

“I’m not wearing my gloves but eh, I hope this will suffice for now?”

Your laugh comes out breathy as he begins to fuck into you at a decadent, leisurely pace, pressing open mouthed kisses to your shoulder.

“I never dreamed at my age I’d find someone like you,” he confesses, “Like you were–like we were made for each other. Every morning and every night I thank Sathanas for bringing you to me, thank you for allowing me to worship you. Anima mia, I adore you so much I wish to devour you. To join our bodies and minds and souls together for eternity and further. I told you before that I love you so much I fear driving you off but…I think we are equally matched in our passions, sì?”

You let out a delighted sigh, spreading your legs further to better accommodate him. It’s nice like this - lazy, unhurried - and he smiles as you clench around him.

“Perfectly matched,” you breathe, meeting the languid thrust of his fingers with the tight circling of your hips, “Copia I am yours in every way - yours to use and fuck and–ah–consume as you please. All yours. Always yours–oh fuck.”

The fervor of your words makes his breathing and his fingers quicken, pumping in and out of you with greater force.

“I would have you all night if you let me,” he growls, his breath hot in your ear, “Say you’ll let me, per favore. Please give me this gift. On my fingers, tongue, cock, it doesn’t matter I need you amore, need to watch you come undone and help mend you back together. Please, I–”

He’s crooked his fingers inside you, pressing against that sweet little spot that makes you whine and cant your hips eagerly. You can feel the tears prick the corners of your eyes and you’re breathless as you nod.

“Copia, please, please, please, need you, need all of you–oh, fuck baby that’s it, don’t stop, don’t–ah!”

Your moan is pitchy and borderline desperate as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm. 

“Mine,” he growls, “Solo mio come sono tuo. La mia bellissima ragazza perfetta. Il mio cuore e la mia anima. Il mio riflesso. La mia luce e il mio buio. Per sempre. Mia scellerata benedizione, non ti merito. I love you more than anything. Anything.”

Panting, you blindly reach down to still his hand between your legs and he sobs into your shoulder. Gently, you extricate his fingers from you and bring his hand up to your face, tongue darting out to taste yourself. Tears slide down his cheeks as he watches, entranced, as you suck each finger into your mouth before dragging the muscle up the center of his palm. His eyes are wet and bright, pupils blown as you lean up and place a soft kiss to his lips. When you pull apart, you thumb away the tears remaining on his cheeks and smile softly at him.

“I-I’m sorry,” he stutters, sniffling, “I don’t know what got into me, amore, I–”

“This was a lot,” you murmur, reaching up to push the loose strands of hair off his forehead, “but I hope you know how loved you are by me - everything about you, all of it - and that there is no one more beautiful on this planet to me than the man I see before me right now. And I’ll remind you of this again and again and again until the end of days and even further. You are so special to me, Copia. I hope that even for a little bit tonight you got to see yourself through my eyes.”

When he leans forward to place a kiss to your forehead, he’s trembling.

“C’mere,” you say, drawing him into your arms as he drapes his body over you, arm around your waist. The weight of him is solid and comforting as you press kisses to his hair, enveloping yourself in the orange blossom scent of what little remains of his pomade. 

“I promised to ravish you all night,” Copia murmurs, his voice comically muffled by his lips squished against your breast. You snort inelegantly.

“We’ve got many nights ahead of us for that, my love,” you say with a smile, hand stroking along his freckled shoulders, “I’m not going anywhere and neither are you. But more importantly - are you alright?”

He pulls away slightly to rest his chin on you.

“I don’t think I have been for a long time,” he says quietly, “Not really, anyway. But ever since you arrived…columba mia, it’s like I have a purpose again.”

Now it’s your turn for your eyes to get watery.

“I know exactly what you mean. Exactly. I…I really need to thank Sister Imperator someday for bringing me here, in the end. I mean yeah she had nefarious intentions but…in a roundabout way she kinda helped save my life.”

“Amore, I don’t mean to sound like some kind of eh, Christian but…Sathanas has a plan for us. And it doesn’t involve any of that child bearing bullshit that was being spewed at you…no. He brought us together for a reason and for that I am thankful every day. Thankful every day you did not run screaming from Imperator’s office the day of your interview. Thankful you saw this…peculiar, awkward, old Cardinal…and saw not only a friend but a-a soulmate. I thank Sathanas but like I said earlier - I thank you more. I would forsake my Unholy Father in a heartbeat for you, amore. You are my true religion now. Know that.”

The noise that comes out of you is wet and embarrassing as you cup Copia’s cheek and rest your forehead against his. After a moment of shared breath, you pull away.

“My love, I’m so sorry to ruin the moment but I desperately need to blow my nose.”

He laughs - one of his weird little “ehehe” numbers - and the sound makes your heart swell in your chest.

“Anything for the woman I love,” he announces grandly, leaning over you to grab the box of tissues on the nightstand and present them to you. You pluck one out and hold it to your face while Copia watches fondly from a very close distance.

“Uh, hon?”

“Mmhmm?”

“You might want to back up a little? I don’t trust the integrity of these things and you do not want to be in the splash zone.”

Copia rolls off you making the most revolted noise as you laugh and struggle to breathe through your congested nose. Sitting up, you blow into the tissue while he watches looking supremely disgusted.

“‘Splash zone’,” he grumbles, shaking his head, “Amore, you are not well.”

“Yeah, I think that’s been established in our year of knowing one another. And, I’m sorry I didn’t realize I was speaking to the pinnacle of mental health over here.”

He pinches the meat of your thigh mid-blow and it makes you choke. In retaliation, you throw one of your crumpled, used tissues at him and it bounces off his chest.

“Augh, it’s wet!”

“Duh, that’s my snot,” you chirp pleasantly. “What you don’t like it? What was all that before about how I’m ‘your beautiful, perfect girl’, and ‘your reflection’, and ‘your heart and soul’ and–”

“...You understood all of that?”

You smile.

“Not all of it, but most. I’ve got a pretty impressive Duolingo streak going from all those nights you have confession duty, you know.”

He props himself up on his side and stares at you with a goofy smile.

“Amore mio, I take back my disgust. You could use me as a tissue and I would say thank you.”

That makes a horrible noise come out of you.

“Copia, I’d call you a simp but I think there would be some pot calling the kettle black action going on there so I’ll refrain. Ugh, what a fucking day.”

You gather up your used tissues with the intent of heading to the bathroom with them but Copia turns to you with his hands cupped expectantly. Gently, you smile before depositing them and watching him get up and pad over to the garbage in the other room. When he comes back after washing his hands and climbs into bed, making his delightful old man noises, you grin.

“Thank you for indulging me tonight,” you murmur as you nestle into his side.

“Indulging you? As if I wasn’t the one getting showered with compliments by a beautiful, nude, young woman?”

“You know what I mean,” you say, trying your best to stifle a yawn. “For hearing me out, for letting me show you how perfect you are to me…all of it. And thank you for the very kind things you said about me in turn. I…will not easily forget that.”

“I certainly hope not but like you, I am prepared to remind you over and over and over of how precious and perfect you are.”

“With fingers, tongue, and cock?” you ask innocently, parroting Copia’s earlier promise. He snorts.

“Dolcezza mia, however you want it.”

“Mmm,” your eyelids are getting heavy as you listen to Copia’s steady breathing, “I’ll hold you to that.”

“I would expect nothing less from such a demanding mistress.”

“Oh you haven’t even seen my demanding mistress side yet, beloved.”

He’s got his eyes closed but makes the dirtiest, most intrigued noise you’ve ever heard and it makes butterflies ricochet around in your stomach. His hand trails teasingly up your arm, causing a shiver to roll through you.

“Well, Padrona,” he murmurs, low and enticing, “I’m not entirely sure I’m ready for bed just yet.”

You’re already sitting up with a sigh and straddling his hips for the second time that evening as you say: “Insatiable as always, Your Eminence. Hmm, do I get to wear your grucifix and biretta? Perhaps I’ll get that pretty red rope out too?”

“Oh amore…I insist.”

[ragequeen94]

SPICY COPIA BELOW

Terzo🔥

Secondo

Inspired by

[notbecauseofvictories]

When I was younger, we had a clock in the garage that would sing bird calls every hour, instead of chiming or ticking or the regular things clocks do. (......I am fairly sure it was exiled to the garage by my mother, who hated the hollow, tinny sound of it.) Anyway, I mostly remember that clock because the mourning dove call was so distinctive---twoo, twoo, too too too, too too too. I can shut my eyes and hear that song, and it taught me to identify it with unerring precision, even though I couldn't pick out another birdcall to save my life.

To this day, mourning doves are one of my favorite birds. and when I caught sight of one perched delicately on my bird feeder I lost my ever loving mind and will take it as a sign of good things to come.

[oh-babylove]

~7k. copia/f!reader. explicit. established relationship, smut, filth and fluff. copia does date night, and you show him your appreciation-- it's only fair. mdni.

thanks to @copia for showing me how to put images in a grid-- top right image by instagram user susitse.art. @enjoy-my-swearing and @photiniainsummer, this one's for you. <3

when the red comes over you - ao3

rhrn spoilers. blowjobs, masturbation, dirty talk, light degradation, a small piece of light cum kink, a touch of hanky-panky in public, some thigh riding, face-fucking, fluff, tw: references to past sexual assault/dubious consent/sexual trauma

You’re holding the same pole on the subway car as Copia, his gloved hand over yours, swaying with him, forced into his space by the crowd. It gives you an excuse to stand close to him, in the circle of his scent like cold smoke. You're not complaining– well, not much. Keeping your balance is a bit of a challenge– you aren't used to doing this in heels, even these modest Cuban heels. Riding the subway truly is riding, the rhythmic thrum of the rails swaying up your body, through the balls of your feet. Riding the train feels like riding a living thing.

“I like this,” you say, as if coming to a decision.

“Hnn?” Copia replies, raising an eyebrow as he looks down at you.

“Riding the train. I like it.” You lean in to murmur in his ear, not that you have far to go. It’s a matter of tilting your head until you can feel the warmth of his skin against your cheek. “But I’d like riding you even more.” It’s just the kind of cheesy nonsense that you’re both into.

Your body keeps brushing against his– a particularly hard bump has your belly pressed against his erection, and his choked-off gasp scores a direct hit to your brain stem, bypassing your ears, cinching something tight around your diaphragm. His hand tightens on your hip, possessive. Holding you up, keeping your balance.

“You little minx,” he hisses, frustrated--with a ragged edge of delight. “You wait till I get you home.”

“You caint blame that on me, now, that was the train,” you say, but you're close to laughing, yourself. You can hear your accent getting thicker, but damned if you can stop it. Besides, Copia loves it, loves ruffling your feathers enough that he can get you to slide back into that slurring hillfolk drawl. Someday he might even make you less self-conscious about it. 

Truth be told, you’ve been practically vibrating since before you left the apartment, restless and swollen between the legs, a low-grade ache that Copia has not been helpful with.

(The apartment. Your apartment. Yours, plural, now, you think. You’d never been a co-religionist of his, and he’d had a toothbrush at your place for a long time. Then a drawer in your dresser. Then he’d brought over his best frying pan, his best chef knife– simply because he couldn’t stand it, gattina, you cook with that? And now there’s as many of his books as yours on the shelves– shelves you put up with your own hands while he did ‘the heavy lookin’ on.’ His name isn’t on the lease, but he paid the rent for the next two months anyway. In full.

When you tried to fight him on it, he’d just shrugged. “Babydoll, I’ve been here more nights than I haven’t for the last four months, this is just… ehh, consider it backdated, yeah?” He’d kissed your forehead. “We can do half each after that. If you haven’t gotten sick of your dirty old man by then.”

It was hard to argue with that.

Copia kept his room at the Ministry, even after his… promotion. His term as Imperator, he’d decided, would be more hands off. You’d talked about it a little. Mostly in bed, sweaty and spent and a little sticky. “Mister Psaltarian is more than capable of running most of it. The administrative things. I’m better with the ghouls, I think, but there’s Kevin, and Ashley, they have it well in hand. I want the new guy to– to be able to be his own man, yeah? I’ll show him the ropes, of course, answer any questions he has, but he doesn’t need me looking over his shoulder all the damn time.”

The new guy. Hell of a way to refer to his long-lost brother. “And you ain’t ready to be around him twenty-four seven just yet.”

“...And that. Yes.” He was quiet for a moment. “You’re too perceptive, gattina. Keep it up and I’ll have to fuck you again, till you don’t think so good.”

“So… you sayin’ you gone fuck my brains out? Say, you ever notice that your man Psaltarian loses his train of thought whenever Kevin comes into the room?”

“That’s it, back in the handcuffs with you. And remember, you brought this on yourself.”)

As ever, he’d insisted on doing your makeup. (It should have been your first clue that you were in for it.) It only makes sense-- he’s better at it than you’ve ever been, and he loves doing it. You love it, too, if you’re honest. He had to take his gloves off for it, to hold your chin firmly and keep you in place. It was terribly intimate, his breath ghosting over your lips, the skin of his hand against your cheek. His quiet, gentle command held something still in the center of you, made it sing like a struck tuning fork– a calm vibration that sank into your bones. The cool brush of the eyeliner on the delicate skin of your eyelids. How meticulous he’d been, how precise. That calm focus he brings to everything that he cares about. How his whole being focused on that point, painting cat eyes sharp enough to kill a man.

Your lipstick had been worse, barely holding your mouth open, the brush sliding over the curve of your cupid’s bow, stretching out your lower lip ever so slightly. You hadn’t even known they’d made brushes for lipstick. Copia has taught you so many things.

Copia knows just what shades of red match your skin tone, knows just how to bring out the color of your eyes. He knows, too, the best cut of a dress to accentuate your figure, to flatter your curves. This one was lovely, shaping your breasts, with a little bit of flare to the skirt. He bought you this dress, these heels. This lingerie. He’s taught you how to fasten a silk stocking to a garter belt, that the underwear goes on over the garters, not underneath.

He’d taken the liberty of fastening your stockings tonight. “So the back seam is straight, gattina. I know it’s tricky to get right on your own, yes? Let me help.” His hands, his clever fingers, so high up on your thighs, his face level with your pussy.

“Oh yeah, sweetness, you're helping something, alright,” you choked out, a little strangled. 

He must have seen how wet you were already, if the self-satisfied hum he made behind you was any indication. He bit the crease of your ass, just lightly, making a goofy little rawr noise that made you actually giggle.

Embarrassing, the noises he gets out of you.

“You shaved,” he said, and it was supremely gratifying to hear him a little hoarse, himself. 

“Did you wanna do that, too?”

“Hnn. We’d miss our reservation.” He wasn't moving from his place on his knees behind you. “Miss the show.”

“Sound like you're enjoying this show purt’ well,” you said, but you thought it best to step into your underwear, anyway. 

Pain shared is pain lessened, isn't it?

…He didn't need to know that you only kept them on for a couple of minutes, just until you used the bathroom one last time on the way out the door.

You almost never know in advance where exactly Copia will take you when it's his turn to plan date night- generally your only clue is what clothing he picks out for you, how he does your makeup, if makeup is required. You've ranged over the city hitting up obscure museums before, taken tours in the underbelly of the public transportation system, gone to aviaries and magic shops and tiny greenhouses.

(You like to think you hold your own. Dive bars and twenty four hour diners, sidewalk art festivals and night markets, one memorable instance of a graffiti lesson– that had been an unexpected delight. 

Your man can be blisteringly uncool sometimes– most of the time, even– but there's no snobbery in him. No fear, either, not in the way most people are afraid: of embarrassing themselves, saying the wrong thing, of looking like a jackass. He hadn't been good at it, but he threw himself into the attempt wholeheartedly, listened to the man in the baggy jeans with the paint-stained fingers explain technique and theory and the history of the medium with total attention and enthusiasm. 

Never will you reach the bottom of him. His openness and his generosity and his good, good heart.)

Dinner and a show is almost a little pedestrian, for him, but there's comfort in the classics. A bar paneled in blond wood and washed in warm light, specializing in rare vinyls piped in on a very serious sound system as much as the cocktails. 

He’d been very good, kept his knee between yours, but otherwise, hadn’t even tried to put a hand up your skirt– a rarity, with him.  His eyes told a different story, watching you with obvious, predatory hunger. The second time you caught him ogling your cleavage he leaned into it, dragging his eyes salaciously down your body with enough force that you nearly felt his gloves snagging on your skin.

The cheeky motherfucker actually licked his lips at you.

You barked out your unlovely laugh, and the way he grinned took the sting out of the sharp glances cast your way– the aim was to listen to the obscure bossa nova, not to your fellow patrons. Your face was hot. “Ah, gattina, you cannot blame a man for looking. Not when you are as ravishing as that.” It wasn’t helping the heat in your face.

A glance at the mirror over the bar, old and pitted and a little smoky, the perfect self-aware touch of authenticity. You’d never have recognized the woman looking back, not when you first met Copia, this exquisite creature with perfect makeup. Sharp. Sexy. 

You don’t hate it.

“...Y’outdid yourself,” you said, slow. You didn’t look real to yourself, this absolute pinnacle of femininity. Copia’s gaze softened, warmed, less the slavering predator and more– a naked adoration that was hard to look at.

(Of course, neither expression was comparable to the first time he’d put you in an exquisitely tailored three-piece suit. You’d thought the man was going to pass out from how quickly his blood rushed south– but that’s a story for another day.)

He crowded your space, just this side of indecent, his knee halfway between your thighs. Copia fed you little morsels from his own fork of– whatever this was. A vaguely mediterranean inspired amuse-bouche. He took his time with it, making you duck your head while the cool tines slid against your lower lip. You kept his eyes for it, moving slow, relishing the way his mouth hung open. 

It’s a little much, in public, truly.

You weren’t even sure what you were eating, something perfectly balanced with rich cream, phyllo dough, an acidic tang. Spanakopita when it’s got a Michelin star or two, you thought. Copia’s little shudder at your groan of appreciation didn’t escape your notice, but you managed to keep the smugness out of your expression with truly heroic effort. 

From there, it was a short taxi ride with his gloved hand heavy on your knee, Copia keeping up a stream of polite chatter that you barely heard a word of. He’d gotten box seats in a lovely little jewel box of a theatre, for a revival of a classic two-man existential tragicomedy starring a couple of aging comedic actors known for their roles in a cultural zeitgeist film from around the turn of the last century.

It was a good effort, all told, and the actors weren’t bad– they had a chemistry borne out of twenty years of friendship that’s impossible to replicate. But Copia proved that he’s a true and faithful servant of the Devil somewhere around the start of the second act, when he peeled a glove off with his teeth.

Your chest went tight.

No wonder he wanted box seats, you thought, as he settled his hand back on your knee. Like it belonged there, like he had perfect possession of it, every right to edge just under the hem of your skirt. 

(His hands-- you love his hands. He’s self-conscious about the hair on the back of them, the dusting of freckles. Large and well-made and skilled, seeing them is like sharing a secret. A gift. He’s squeamish about textures, too sensitive, the slightest scrape will make him shudder-- and not in a fun way. Sandpaper would be torture. Anything gelatinous is right out. You get used to the constant grime and the vague awareness of filth you get on your hands, living in a city. It’s not so bad, for you, you invest in hand sanitizer and don’t touch your face. It’s the price you pay for living in a place with something like a subway, where things pulse and hum and never truly sleep, to be a microbe in the gut of this beast of a city, to be a tiny cog in the great machine.

You love it here. You didn’t think you would. Hell, you didn’t think you could. “It’s growing on me,” you told Copia one day, cool as you like, as if you weren’t giving anything away. “A little.”

“You have no talent for bullshit, babydoll,” he said, both dry and terribly fond.)

All of your awareness focused on the soft warmth of him enveloping your knee, the rough scrape of his calluses on the inside of your thigh– a new sensation, he’s taken the acoustic guitar back up recently. Not moving, just–holding. 

You kept your eyes forward, and your breathing even.

His thumb slid over your kneecap, absentmindedly tracing little circles. Your legs fell open a little wider, just so your thighs weren’t touching. You were terribly, achingly aware of the air on your cunt.

A soft stroke back and forth, a gesture that could have been reflexive, thoughtless– if it wasn’t for the beatific expression on his face, his eyes forward and too-innocent. It would have been more convincing if he hadn’t been inching his slow way upwards, featherlight touches, tracing up and back down, up and back down. Just a millimeter higher each time. An agonizingly slow drag, a glacial pace.

Your grip tightened on the armrest. 

Copia leaned forward, his breath in your ear. “Why, gattina,” he purred. “I do not think you are even paying attention to the play.”

“You are,” you managed, “a real sunnavbitch, you know it?”

He only chuckled low, and ran his touch to the top of your thigh. The side of his hand brushed up against your wet cunt and you both gasped.

“You little slut,” he hissed, with obvious pride. “So eager for me already.”

He dragged the very tip of one finger up between your lips, so slick it was almost frictionless, pulling away just before he could touch your clit. You took a ragged breath that was nearly a whine, bereft at the loss of his touch. You felt your cunt clench over nothing, an involuntary contraction. 

Copia hummed in mock-sympathy, and took mercy on you, cupping your whole cunt with his broad hand, steady and even pressure that was nowhere near enough, but at least took a little of the edge off. 

His middle finger slid naturally between your labia majora, and settled there, his fingertip crooked so he could just barely feel the inside of you.

The bastard stayed that way for the rest of the performance, sometimes giving you a gentle squeeze, sometimes pulling away to slide his fingertip back up to circle your clit. Just often enough to keep your attention focused where he wanted.

Evil, evil man.

Copia retracted his hand before the lights went up, giving you one final squeeze. He kept your eyes as he brought his hand up to his face, inhaled deeply, and surreptitiously licked his palm before fitting his hand back into his glove for the applause.

“Play weren’t that bad,” you said, weakly. “No call to do- alla that.”

“Oh? Didn’t you tell me you had a crush on the– which was it, the one with the dark hair– as a little girl? You want to wait around, go to the stage door, get an autograph?” All innocence, all the accommodating boyfriend.

“I revise my previous opinion. You are the Lebron James of being a sunnavabitch.” Despite your discomfort in heels, you couldn’t drag him to the train home fast enough.

So now, here you are. You shiver a little, in this hot and humid subway car, remembering. You bite your lip and can taste the wax of your lipstick.

Copia sees it, of course he does, how your eyes go just a little glazed. He smirks a terribly self-satisfied smirk. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“Oh, this’d cost you at least a dollar. Maybe five nintey-nine.”

“Inflation is just outrageous these days. Highway robbery. I’m shocked.”

“Not yet, you aren’t.”

“You are talking a big game, babydoll. Be careful, I think, ehh-- your mouth is writing checks your ass can’t cash.” His hand heavy on your hip, almost indecent. His boot between your shoes, the sweet curve of his thigh displacing your skirt. He’s so close, so warm and solid. The train is packed, but he’s all you can see, all you can feel. His breath in your ear, pitched low. “Your pussy can’t cash.”

It’s all you can do to keep yourself from grinding on his thigh in the middle of the train. “Sweetness,” you croak out. “We’re in public.”

He leans back, conciliatory. Terribly smug. The world fades back in. You catch a teenager in a hoodie smirking at the two of you, a direct and uncomfortable gaze that feels more taboo in this city than even the way your hips keep shifting, restless. You feel almost drunk, stepping into the warmth of his body and his hard cock between your hip and your belly, a little vindictive, relishing his frustrated little grunt in your ear. 

“Two more stops, gattina,” he murmurs, as much for his benefit as yours. You see his adam’s apple bob as he swallows. “We can make it.”

“Mm-hmm,” you manage. 

He drags you roughly by your elbow off the train, in a way that has your fellow passengers actually making a faint murmur of disapproval at the way he growls. He might be leaving a bruise on your arm. Can’t be helped. You’re laughing up the stairs, your heels loud on the concrete and metal, giddy, just this side of hysterical. 

He’s clumsy with the keys when you get to your apartment building, following you up the stairs so he can look up your skirt. “Can’t believe– I watched you put those on.” 

“You just mad you didn’t get to watch me take ‘em off.”

He’s on your neck like a lamprey when you get to your door, and now it’s your turn to be clumsy while you paw through your purse, his hot wet mouth insistent, just under your ear, his teeth grazing your skin. His hands firm on your breasts, pushing the neckline of your dress down so he can fill his hands with them, gripping almost hard enough to hurt. He’s trapping you against the door, grinding into your ass while you fumble with the lock.

“What’re you– you tryna fuck me in the hallway?” you gasp. He’s reaching up your skirt now, his bare palm at the top of your stocking. When did he take his gloves off?

“I will,” he growls, “if you don’t hurry the fuck up.”

You somehow make it in the door without breaking the key off in the lock, and you give him just enough time to slide the bolt home before you’re shoving him onto the couch. You’re in his lap just as quick, your mouth on his, nearly biting him as he laughs into your mouth. Christ, you didn’t even get out of your heels. 

He’s warm under you, solid muscle under a sweet softness around the middle, and you can’t unbutton his shirt fast enough. His tongue in your mouth is making you clumsy, making it hard to keep track of how buttons work, shorting out basic motor functions. When you make it, you groan at his fur under your palms, and then he shoves his thigh between your legs and you whine when you grind your wet cunt against it. You have to break off from his mouth for it, clinging to his shoulders.

Your lipstick is all over Copia’s face. He’s grinning, rapt, delighted, impossibly fond. The man’s face is so pink it looks like he’s been slapped around. “Good, eh?” He pushes his thigh forward again, his hand up your dress and on your ass. “You like that?” He’s pulling you into it, making you drag your cunt over his tight jeans. The seam running down the front of his thigh hits your clit and you gasp. “So fucking desperate you need to hump my leg, filthy little thing.”

You roll against him once or twice more, because he’s right, it feels so good, those long runner’s thighs, the coiled power of him. That hard muscle and rough fabric against you, his body between your knees, so warm and familiar and beloved.

But his smirk is just a little too smug for your taste, so you have to make yourself stop before you fall too deep into a rhythm. Even if you actually hurt with being so turned on for so long. You get his shirt the rest of the way open, have to bend your head to suck a nipple into your mouth– the terrible brand over his heart level with your eyes– and bite. It’s not hard, but it does raise his back off the couch, and distract him from you eeling down between his legs to kneel on the floor.

“Oh, fuck,” he says, looking down at you, knowing (some of) what you have in mind.

Your hand is on his belt buckle, and the sheer Pavlovian reaction you have to the sound of undoing it with one hand forces you to press your cheek to his thigh and focus on your breathing for a moment.

You laugh, shaky. You left an actual wet spot on his jeans.

Copia’s hand is in your hair, fingernails running along your scalp, soothing, grounding you. “Baby?” he asks. “Babydoll, are you alright? We don’t have to–”

“No.” You catch your breath, look back up at him, and his mismatched eyes go from soft and sweet to almost afraid, when he sees your expression. The hunger there– you could eat him alive. “No, I was just– too turned on, for a second.”

“Oh.” He pets at you again, then his smile turns predatory as he sweeps your hair up in one hand and pulls tight. “Then why don’t you get to sucking my cock, puttana?” 

Just for that, you lean up and bite at his belly, the sweet furry softness just below his navel. You laugh with a mouthful of his flesh at his yelp, how it turns into a groan as you unzip his jeans and take him in hand. 

It isn’t as if you aren’t intimately (haha) familiar with his dick, but it’s always nice to see. You’d called it pretty, the first time you’d slept with him, and it really is an accurate description. (It had been emotional for a great many reasons, but that had touched him in ways he still couldn’t articulate.) Silky soft skin over the hard length of him, his head already shiny with precum. It’s the same color as his lips, under the paint.

“You see what you do to me, gattina?” he murmurs above you. “You wreck me. You’ve ruined me– or at least these pants.”

“It’ll come out in the wash,” you say, and take him into your mouth, slow suction, tasting salt. He fills your mouth, fills your hand, blood-warm and firm in your grip. You watch his eyes when you start to suck him down, loving, as you always do, how in that first moment he looks at you, whimpers at you, like you're breaking his heart. 

You hear the dry click of him swallowing as you pull the soft skin of his cock further towards your mouth, your grip twisting, the slow churn of it. How his veins give under your lips, under your hand. It doesn’t take long to get him slick, the thick ridge of the underside of him heavy on your tongue. The musk of him fills your whole senses, thick and animal and a little gross.

His hips shift, and before you have to pull yourself off of him to tell him to talk, he’s doing what you want. “Look at you,” he breathes, reverent. “You’re so good at this, fucking made for this,” a twitch upwards, a movement too small to be called a thrust, “aren’t you? Born for this, your god made you to suck my cock. My perfect– ohh– perfect little cocksucker. Want it so bad, don’t you?”

His hand is heavy on the back of your skull, pushing you down with that even, steady pressure just how he likes. How you both like. “Don’t worry. I’ll give it to you, give you what you want.” He’s not choking you with it, you have plenty of room to work with your hand. Still, as you take him down further, swallowing around the thick length of him, you feel hot tears running down your cheeks, sheer dumb animal reaction. You slip your other hand to cradle his slick balls, rolling them gently, the weight of them a little cooler than the rest of his body. He makes a strangled noise, an “Ohh fuck, baby, babydoll, so good for me, so good to me, fuck, fuck–!” 

His stutter and his loss of control are just too much, finally, you feel the air of the apartment cool at the top of your slick thighs, your swollen cunt, and you have to do something about it. You take your hand from his balls and slide it up your skirt, slowly enough to feel your silk stockings under your fingertips, slow enough that Copia catches it.

Just as you register how fucking wet you are, his eyes go wide and his hips shudder, the smooth hot head of his cock hitting the back of your throat. 

Your grip tightens on the base of his cock, a warning. You freeze, staring blank and unseeing at his soft belly, before looking up at him imploringly. “Okay,” he says, gentling you like a frightened horse. His big hand moving in your hair. “Okay. But baby,” he's nearly whining as you slowly suckle on the head of him, faint living salt in your mouth, “I know you want it, you’re too fucking good at that to not want it, I. Ohhh.” His hand grips tight in your hair as you swallow around him, thick and hot on your tongue. “Oh, fuck.”

You’re finding your pace on his cock again, a little faster, your hands working in time on his cock, on your clit. Freshly shaved like this, you’re fantastically, impossibly slippery. “Ohh, fuck. Oh, sweet Satan. Oh my dear Lord Below.” Copia absolutely doesn’t know what he’s saying, he so rarely gets outright religious on you. It’s an unspoken courtesy you’ve extended to each other, so to hear him break it sends a smug little charge through you. You whimper a little around his cock, give yourself a little more pressure on your clit. He can’t keep still, not all the way, even though you know he’s trying, making little aborted movements of his hips.

Copia swallows. It’s remarkable how you can see him trying to pull himself together. “Knew you loved this,” he says, his voice creaking. “Can’t be that good at something if you don’t love it. Didn’t know you loved it this much, gattina.” A little more pressure on the back of your skull, his nails scraping your scalp. He isn’t exactly holding you down, but he isn’t letting you pull off, either. “Never had my cock sucked this good, never even had a man suck my cock this good, thought I liked that better, before you came along. Had so many people suck this cock–” and that hurts, a hot bolt of pain and arousal that hits your heart and your clit at the same time. Your pace falters, and it must show, because Copia slows as well.

It’s a sore spot. You know that his own inverted form of celibacy in the Ministry included a certain implied… availability that could be, charitably, unpleasant for him at times. Clergy take no wives, no husbands, but give themselves freely to their congregation. You haven’t pushed him on the things that happened to him, he usually insists it was fine, expected, normal– but you generally have to go for a long walk and break something after you talk about it. You know, too, that he had positive experiences there, genuinely caring relationships. It doesn’t exactly help matters that your own knowledge of partnered sex, before Copia, falls radically short of the mean for someone in your age group.

All of that goes through your head in a flash, and he knows it, he can read you so well, even between one stroke of his cock and the next. “Only– didn’t know you’d have a natural talent at this.” Petting at you, soothing, his thumb moving tender on your cheekbone. “Remember, how I had to teach you how to kiss, those hours in the park.” You make a noise on him, not sure if this is helping. “Loved that, babydoll, loved doing that with you, teaching you, drove me wild.” He’s murmuring low to you, his voice a little rough, a little too exposed. “But I– I was ready for you to bite it off, the first time you went down.” 

Awkward thing, laughing with a mouth full of dick. But he keeps going. “I didn’t know, my baby. I didn’t know how it could feel. Didn’t know how good it could be.” He twitches in your mouth, in time with a tiny movement of his hips, so warm and alive in you. “Taught you how to kiss, but babylove, I swear I felt like a virgin when you took me to bed.” His voice is low and wrecked for different reasons than it was before, and oh no, his eyes are wet.

You let go of him, turn your head to wipe your mouth on your shoulder, quick and perfunctory. You can't take your eyes from him. "Sug," you say, unsure how to continue, the twisting in your chest too much for words, beyond anything you could articulate with language. Your knees creak a little as you start to get up, to do what you don't know. Kiss him or touch him or say something, anything, to the way he's looking at you. 

Copia pushes you back down, his hand heavy at the back of your neck. His thumb slots right at the base of your skull, right where he likes to keep it when he kisses you. “No, no, you’re too good at this, I wouldn’t interrupt an artist.” Back in some semblance of control. “You’re too good, you make me feel too good, show me. Will you--? Please, baby, will you show me how it can be good--?"

"Well," you say, pumping slow at his cock. "I can try." You press a tiny kiss to the head of him, too sweet for the situation, relishing the way he shivers. You take him in, how his hair is a disaster, sticking up in the back, his shirt open, your makeup smeared all over his face, his body, the parts of his thighs that you can reach. His pupils are blown wide, his eyes a little glazed, his lips swollen from the way you kissed them and the way he's bitten them. He's wrecked, and he's yours. 

You love him. With all your heart, all your mind, and, you're afraid, all your soul. It hurts to look at him, you think he might sear your eyes right out of your skull. 

You close your eyes against it, at how it stings, and nuzzle into the silky skin of his cock. Copia's belly is soft, warm, furred, delightfully sticky under your touch, as you run your hand up the front of him, up until you're cupping the sweet curve of his pectoral, until you can feel the cruel scar of his branding under the pads of your fingers. You trace over it, mapping the vector of those interlocking sixes. You feel his pulse under your palm, under your lips. You drag your mouth back and forth, just to feel the soft, delicately crenelated skin, the coolness of his flesh here soothing your feverishness. 

Copia makes a tiny wounded noise as his hand presses over yours. As if he could press his heart into your hand. He’s better at language than you’ve ever been, but you can see it falter and fail for him. All you know how to do is– action. It feels inadequate, somehow.

Your dear man. He sees you, and raises your hand to press a kiss to your knuckles in a courtly gesture. It should be absurd, with you on your knees for him, with the delicate skin of his cock against your mouth. Somehow, it isn’t, the alchemy of his tenderness conveying exactly what he means. What you mean, with the most vulnerable part of him between your teeth. “D’you want me to take you to bed, babydoll?”

“No,” you say, pulling off of him long enough to murmur it against his slick head. “Later, maybe. If you’re up to it. Right now, I want–” It’s easier to wrap your lips around him again, to tell him that way. You’re more eloquent with your mouth this way than you ever were with language.

“Alright,” he says, almost a gasp, as he returns your hand to you. “Touch yourself for me?” Almost pleading. As if your pleasure were a favor to bestow on him. “I want– wanna see you get off, my baby, wanna see how much you love doing this. So fucking hot–” His voice breaks off into a whine as you pull him further into your mouth. 

His big hand on your head, stroking your hair back, so sweetly. ��Do you want me to be a little mean? I know you like that.” 

You moan around his cock in an unmistakable affirmative, rut a little harder into your hand, plead with your eyes. 

Copia’s smile turns sharp, wicked. “My perfect little cocksucker.” The deep affection in his voice belies the words. “Perfect little cumslut.” Your hand is already back between your legs, and you might– might– be moving your hips a little more theatrically than strictly necessary. 

He holds the back of your neck, the base of your skull, his grip tight. Just this side of painful. “You know how to tap out. How to get me to stop.” He pushes you down on him as he tilts his hips up to you, not quite cutting off your air. “But you’re not gonna do that, are you?” 

Copia licks his lips. He looks feverish, making shallow little thrusts into your mouth. “No, you. Ohh, you like this too much.” He’s so careful, even like this, testing just how hard he can thrust, finding your limit and pushing just past it before backing down. It makes you moan, makes you shiver, makes your hand speed up on your cunt in time with the way he’s pushing into your throat.

“Cruel to me,” he croons, as he uses your mouth. “Keeping that sweet little pussy from me.” He’s panting. “I can hear it, hear how wet you are.” As he says it, you realize you can, too, the wet noise in counterpoint to the sound of you working his cock. “M’gonna make you pay for it. Hope you’re ready, gonna eat you out till m’hard again.” He’s got both hands on your head now, and he’s too far into you for you to use your hand on him.

“You’ll. Hnn. You’ll need me to, to eat you out. Make you cum on my face.” If it weren’t for the sheer adoration in his eyes, this would be brutal, the way he’s pushing into your throat. The speed of your hand on your clit. Moving with him, point and counterpoint. “Fuck, I’m gonna wreck it, gonna split your pretty little cunt open– I’ll last longer, after I cum down your throat.” You whine around his cock, your cunt clenching on nothing, shivering against your hand.

Copia sounds like he’s in pain. It feels like he can’t stop himself, the way his hips are working. “Gattina,” he whines, helplessly. “Can’t– can’t last much longer, you looking at me like that.” You can feel him trembling under your touch. “D’you. You want it?” Movements a little more shallow, holding himself in check. “You want this cum in your mouth?” A rough, jagged thrust. “Little slut–!” he hisses, and he’s not quite too far gone to grin in smug delight at the way you moan in reaction. 

“Gonna cum like this?” he croons, taunting. His white eye bores into you, too bright, and he looks crazed. Deranged. It’s almost frightening, the way you can’t look away from it. Your eyes burn, hot tears on your cheeks, and you couldn’t stop rubbing your cunt if you tried. The way he’s watching you, the way he sees just how turned on you are by him using you like this. Like it’s shameful. “From me fucking your slut mouth like a little cocksleeve.” His voice is creaking, nearly out of control. “You want this cum? You want it? Hmm?”

You’re hanging on by a thread, your nerves strung out like piano wire, helpless before him. Your jaw hurts, his hand so tight in your hair. “Then take it.” He’s beckoning you over the edge, chanting, rapt. “Take it, take my cum, take my fucking cum–” he rasps, knowing exactly what will set you off, will snap the bright line of you.

You see his smile as you break, whining around his cock. How he lights up at it, overjoyed, crooked and tender. You hold his eyes the whole time, giving him as much of it as you can, letting him see all of it, the shining abyssal affection that crashes through your body for him, catching your nerve endings like fire through tinfoil. 

“Ohh–! Precious,” he says, almost crying, “my precious girl, my baby, my–” his voice breaks on your name, the syllables like a song, like a prayer, like something more than holy, like the shahada, like the shema, like it's the last thing that he knows. You never knew your name until he held it in his mouth like this, at the uttermost end of himself. He’s flooding over your tongue, slick and bitter. Like the first jet from the fountain in school, sun-warmed metal, iron from the earth, living water. 

His cock jumps in your mouth, and you’re shaking, trembling through your aftershocks and his as you swallow all of him, pull all of him into you, watching his eyes and his blissed out expression until his voice does– something wrecked. “You–!” he gasps, delighted. “C’mere, come up here, you’re too– too far away–” he’s pulling at you, babbling, delirious, so soft now. 

Copia’s pulling you up, into his arms, his lap, too quick for you to wipe his cum and your spit from your mouth. “Dunno if I like it, you that far away, wanna feel your pretty little body when you cum, you–” And then he’s kissing on you, shivering, laughing, little pecks along your jawline till he reaches your mouth. He makes a deep, appreciative groan when he tastes himself on your lips. He pulls back to look at you, almost scandalized in delight. 

You have to laugh at him. For once you can’t be bothered to be self-conscious about it. “Oh, I do like that,” he murmurs, almost to himself, before he dives back in, like he has to get all of it. You’re still shaky, a fine shiver all down your spine. He’s almost clumsy, licking into your mouth, a real rarity for him. You try not to feel too smug about it.

You can’t stop smiling, when you finally get your mouth back. “Acceptable, then?”

“So good. Every time, I can’t believe–” he’s nuzzling at you, his nose against yours, totally uninhibited in his affection. “So perfect, so sweet, love you so much, thank you, thank you, baby–” Nonsense babble. Incoherently effusive. He scoops your legs across his lap and runs his hands over all of your skin that he can reach. “Perfetta…sei perfetta. Angioletto,” he murmurs, and you shiver. You haven’t heard that one in a while. “Angioletto mio,” he’s saying, into your hair, your skin, and it’s rare that you blow him all the way back to Italian. “Sei tutto ciò che voglio del Paradiso.” You’re a little too fucked-out to parse that all the way, but it still snags in your heart a little.

(He knows, usually, how you still aren’t used to being loved on this much. You know he restrains himself, tries not to overwhelm you. It breaks your heart, sometimes, when you see him hold himself back, even as his consideration makes you warm.) 

Now, though, it’s good. It’s perfect. His pants are half off, his dick out, ridiculous. You think you might have snapped a garter, and you definitely put ladders in these stockings. You couldn’t give less of a shit. You loop your arms around his shoulders and bury your face in his neck, letting out a deep, contented sigh.

Copia’s still petting you– appropriate enough. You feel like a cat in a sunbeam, even supremely disheveled like this.

He squeezes you lightly, again, and makes a little noise in the back of his throat. “The, enh– the talking. It wasn’t too much?” Like he’s shy, all of a sudden.

“Noo!” You have to pull back to look up at him. “No, holy shit, sweetness, it was inspired. Even for you! Hot damn, baby. ‘Cocksleeve,’ where did that come from?” 

“Ehh– a couple of times, there, I’m, ah. Not even sure I remember what I was saying.” Is he blushing? It’s adorable.

“No, it was great. I’d tell you if it weren’t, honeybunch.” You lean your head back against him, boneless and warm all the way through. “Naw, this was awesome. Ten outta ten, go Team Us.” You hold up your hand for a high-five, and your sweet man, he’ll never leave you hanging– the slap rings loud through your living room. 

He tilts his head back onto the couch, looking up at the Devil’s Ivy crawling over your bookshelves. “Although,” he says, slow, considering. “I do seem to recall that I promised you I was gonna make you cum on my face.”

“And split my pussy open,” you remind him. “Or was you writing checks your dick can’t cash?”

“Babydoll, don’t you know by now?” He’s turning back to look at you, his mismatched eyes full of predatory adulation. “The Devil always keeps his promises.”

[ramblingoak]

Copia on ICE! ~ part one ~

Cardinal Copia x Female Reader ~ At what would probably be your final Winter Olympics you needed to focus on realizing your dream of winning gold. You definitely didn't need to start a whirlwind romance with world famous speed skater Copia Emeritus...

~ I commissioned @enjoy-my-swearing to bring speed skater Copia to life so please take a moment to appreciate her amazing work (especially the butt sparkles) ~

Warnings: a vague understanding of how the Winter Olympics actually works also their ages are obviously gonna be a little funky so just roll with it, angst, fluff, smug copia, fingering, dirty talk, lots of kissing, nsfw, 18+ only mdni, about 15k words

“Elegant…graceful…soft.”

Your coach’s words echoed in your head as you skated across the ice.  Reminders of how figure skaters should appear while they perform.  The music to your short program reached its crescendo in your head and you pushed yourself into your first jump, quickly leaping into the second as you landed.  You spun towards the stands with your arms extended out, smiling towards all the imaginary people looking on.  

“Do you think he’s into fisting?”

“Jesus Christ Terzo!”  You slid to a stop in front of where your friend and roommate was lounging against the rink wall staring at his phone.  “What the hell?”

“I’m just asking!”

“But why are you asking me when you should be asking him?”    

“I will but you know, one needs to prepare themselves for every possibility.”  He glanced up from his phone with a smirk on his face.  “Like fisting.”

“How about you keep your possibilities to yourself.”  You skated to his side, placing your elbows on the low wall while you gave him a stern look.  “And stop saying fisting.”

“Fine, fine.”  His phone screen lit up and Terzo grinned at whatever was on there before he quickly typed out a response.  When he was done he turned and gave you a quick grin.  “Have I ever told you that you are my favorite person?”

“Yes, but you only tell me that when you have bad news or you want something.”  Terzo’s grin wavered a bit but his phone lit up again and he giggled at whatever he saw on it.  “Just spit it out Terzo.”

“Would you mind terribly if I left early?”

“How early?  We still have the rink for a few hours.”

He winced, glancing at his phone again before sheepishly meeting your eyes.

“Now?”

“Now?  Terzo, you need to practice!”

“SÍ, grazie coach, I know.”  He pushed off the wall and skated around you to the opening.  “I’ve been practicing for weeks.  Months.”  You watched as he grabbed his blade covers and went to sit on the bench where he’d tossed all his gear.  “Years!”

“That’s the point Terzo!  We do all this practicing for a reason, to get to where we are today.”  You grabbed your own covers and followed him out of the rink.  “You do remember we’re at the Winter Olympics, right?”

“We’re at the Olympics?!”  Terzo gave an exaggerated gasp and you rolled your eyes.  “Amica mia, I know this.  How can I forget when you’re covered in feathers.”

Glancing down at your costume you let out a sigh.  Swan Lake hadn’t been your first choice of song for your short program, mostly because you knew your coach would lean into the swan aspect way too much.  White feathers decorated the fabric from your chest down to the short skirt.  When you looked at the ground you could see a few feathers had fallen off and were scattered over the floor.  With a huff you crossed your arms and looked back to glare at Terzo.

“At least I’m covered in something.  Your costume is 80% lace.  Does that even meet the regulations?”

“Omega liked it.”

“Oh well if Omega likes it then that’s all that matters.”  You both glared at each other for a few beats before you sighed and trudged over to sit by him on the bench.  “Is he a snowboarder?”

“Hockey.”

“Well Secondo will be pleased at least.”

“Eh, he plays for Sweden.”  At that you winced, Terzo’s older brother was the head coach for team Italy and probably wouldn’t be thrilled Terzo was sleeping with someone from a rival team.  “You should see him, cara mia.  Wide shoulders, thick arms and an ass to die for.”

“That sounds like most hockey players.”

“No no, he’s not just a hockey player.  He’s the captain.”

“The captain?  Then why the fuck are you still here?  Go get him!”

Terzo laughed, leaning in to give you a quick kiss on your forehead.

“I knew you’d understand.”  

He bent down to start untying his skates and shoved them along with the rest of his things into his gym bag.  You tried not to feel a pang of jealousy as you watched him work.  Terzo was so much more carefree than you were, something you really appreciated in the last few years.  You were still recovering from a knee injury when you first met him and his humor and kindness had done wonders for you.  It also helped that as soon as you had met his older brother you basically had been adopted into the family.

Primo was a member of the curling team and while it wasn’t the most popular sport his success made him fairly well known.  He had spent most of his life acting like a father to his three younger brothers.  Their actual father, Nihil, had been absent for much of their life.  If you asked any of them they would state that Primo was the head of the family and wouldn’t bring up Nihil’s name at all.

Secondo was the second oldest, an imposing and stern man to anyone outside his close circle of family and friends.  He had spent most of his life playing hockey, one of the best goaltenders that the sport had ever seen.  His nickname was Bone Daddy although few dared call him that to his face.  The design of his mask was that of a terrifying skull, a design he had claimed had been used by Emeritus family members from long ago.

Although you were pretty sure the story he told you about the family running a Satanic Church was completely made up.

His terrifying reputation on the ice was enhanced by the fact that under his mask and helmet he painted his face with the same skull design.  Secondo reveled in pulling his mask off to startle members of the opposing team and referees alike.  He probably would still be tending goal if he hadn't injured his shoulder years prior.  Now he was the head coach of the Italy team, skull makeup still proudly worn every game and oftentimes in between.

The one brother you hadn’t met yet was Copia.  Although with as much as the media loved to talk about him each Winter Olympics you were surprised you hadn’t.  Copia was one of the most decorated athletes in any Olympic sport.  You had been hoping to run into him at some point, mostly just so you could meet the entire family, but deep down you could admit there was another reason: Copia Emeritus was gorgeous.

The entire family was to be more accurate, but Copia was the face that had the habit of popping into your head when you were daydreaming.  It didn’t help that he seemed to be everywhere right now.  With what was being touted as his last Olympic Games it seemed like every reporter was clamoring to interview him.  You’d seen his face across a majority of the magazines littered around the Olympic village lounge area and you really hoped Terzo never found the one you had already swiped to look at later.

Your musings were interrupted when Terzo zipped his bag closed and stood up, seemingly looking around for something.  You snorted when you realized what he was missing.

“You left your coat in our room, remember?”  Terzo’s shoulders slumped and he groaned.  “Something about ‘giving everyone a show’ while we walked here?”  When he grabbed yours that you’d thrown over the rink wall you got up as well.  “Hey, no that’s mine!”

“Per favore, amica mia?”  He got distracted by his phone beeping again and after a quick look he turned to you even more desperate.  “Omega wants to go sightseeing and then go back to his room after…”

“And you’re dressed like that.”    He nodded at you while he pouted and really, that shouldn’t work as well as it did.  “Ok, fine!  You might as well take my sweatpants too, don’t need the entire town seeing your ass hanging out.”

In short order you had your friend bundled up and ready for his date.  It was cute to see him continually checking his phone, you’d never seen Terzo so excited about a date before.  You were about to go back out on the ice and start practicing again when the doors at the back of the stands opened and a figure blocked out the light.

“Terzo that guy looks like he could break you in half.”

“Fuck I hope so.”  He pulled you into a fierce hug before starting up the stairs.  “Don’t wait up!”

“I suppose I’ll need to take your bag back to our room?”  

Terzo turned and flashed you a grin before making it up to Omega and practically launching into the guy’s arms.  Omega held up a hand and you waved back, lowering it with a sigh when the two men went out the door and left you alone.    You turned back towards the rink, shooting a glare at the two huge bags you’d now have to lug back to the village.  Well, no use worrying about that now, you had two hours left to practice and you were determined to get your routine perfect.

Anything less than that wouldn’t get a medal around your neck.

Hours later you were exhausted and desperately wanting to be out of your costume and back in your room.  Easier said than done considering you had to lug both yours and Terzo’s things back with you.

“Goddammit.  Ugh!”  You straightened up, lifting Terzo’s bag and slinging it over your head as you turned.  “He better be the lay of the centur—shit!”

As you turned to head towards the exit you ran right into a solid something.  You immediately took a step away but with the extra weight hanging off your back you kept going, falling backwards and landing on your ass.  With a groan you let your head fall back onto the ground.  The man you had slammed into was laughing, a deep chuckle that reminded you too much of Terzo.  You heard fabric rustle and then felt a hand touch your knee.

“Is uh, everything okie dokie?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”  With a groan you started to sit up, flailing a bit until the man grabbed one of your hands to help.  “You know you shouldn’t sneak up…oh.”

Copia Emeritus was mere inches away from you.

His brown hair was combed back, flecks of gray catching on the fluorescent lights.  There was some dark makeup around a familiar set of eyes, one green and one white.  A carefully groomed mustache sat above a full set of lips.  Your eyes couldn’t help but trail down his body, the jacket was emblazoned with the colors of the Italian flag.  Below that he seemed to be wearing a uniform, tight fabric hugging his hips and—

“Sneak up on?”

“Thighs!”

Damn it.  You dropped your head into your hand with a groan.

“Did you hit your head?”

“Uh, yes?”  The man crouched down again, a gloved hand pulling your own away from your face.  When you dared to look at him he was smirking, another familiar feature shared with your friend.  You decided to try for indifference and hoped he bought it.  “Copia?”

“Copia.”  He placed a hand on the back of your head, his fingers probing through your hair.  You tried to swat at his hand but he easily grabbed it with his free one.  “Quit that, I’m trying to make sure you aren’t hurt.”

“I’m fine!  It’s fine.”  Copia pulled away, holding his hands up in surrender.  You ignored the little pang of…whatever after he did so.  Instead you focused on pulling the bag straps off your shoulders and trying to get up.  Sheepishly you met Copia’s eyes, scrunching your nose up at the amused look on his face.  “Could you lend me a hand?”

“Oh now you want a hand, eh?”  He chuckled at your grumbling, taking your hands and easily pulling you to your feet.  “Upsy daisies.”

“Daisy.”

“Is that your name?”

“No, it’s—upsy daisy.  Not daisies.”  When Copia gave you a confused look you groaned and turned around, glaring down at the bags.  There were more feathers from your costume resting on the ground and you quickly knelt down to grab them.  “Damn it.”

“What is this anyway?”  You looked up at him as you picked up the feathers, narrowing your eyes at the fingers wiggling your way.  “Your clothes.”

“It’s my costume.”

“Costume for what?”

“I’m a figure skater.”

“Ah, so you probably know mio fratello, Terzo.”

“Unfortunately.”  You chose to ignore how handsome his smile made him look, standing up again with a handful of white feathers.  He kept eyeing your costume, looking up and down your body with what you hoped was appreciation.  “What?”

“You are uh, una paperina?”

“Huh?  Yeah.  You know, Swan Lake.”  Copia was biting his lip, looking to be about two seconds from laughing.  Ok so, not appreciation.  “What now?”

“Nothing, it’s nothing.  Just remembering Terzo covered in feathers when he skated to that too.”

“It’s a popular song.”

“Sí, I think everyone skates to it at least once.”

What the fuck?

“And?  It’s a good song!”

“Paperina, I didn’t say it wasn’t.”

“Skating to Swan Lake is a lot more difficult than skating in a circle.”

Ha!  That got him.  Copia’s eyes narrowed as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Is it now?  Have you ever watched speed skating?”  He huffed when you shook your head.  “I think if you watched you would change your mind.”

“Yes, well I’m busy right now so I’ll take a rain check.”  You turned and knelt down again, shoving the feathers in a pocket of your bag and then slinging the strap over your head.  “It’s late, I’ve gotta get back to my room.”

“Do you turn into a pumpkin at midnight?”

“What?”  As you stood up you couldn’t stop yourself from wavering on your feet again, but this time Copia kept his hands to himself.  “What are you talking about?”

“Ah, doesn’t the swan turn into a pumpkin if they aren’t back home at midnight?”

“You are mixing two very, very different fairy tales.”  Copia shrugged, seemingly unbothered with fairy tale lore.  As you reached down and picked up Terzo’s bag your balance shifted again but you moved away when Copia reached out to steady you.  “I got it!”

“Has anyone ever told you how stubborn you are Paperina?”

“Once or twice.”  You took a few steps to the side to go around Copia but he moved to block you.  “Has anyone ever told you how annoying you are?”

“Once or twice.”  God, even his smile was annoying.  And handsome.  Damn it.  “I’m actually looking for my brother.”

“He left a while ago with some guy.”

“Of course.  Hockey player?”

You couldn’t help but grin, it was clear Copia knew his brother well.

“The captain of the Swedish team in fact.”

“Ha!  Secondo is gonna love that.”  He looked down and motioned towards Terzo’s bag.  “Isn’t that his?”

“I’m taking it back to our room for him.  Apparently.  Hey!”

“Allow me.”  He easily tugged the bag out of your hands, grinning in response to your narrowed eyes.  “Where’s your coat?  It’s too cold out there for Swan Lake.”

“Terzo needed it more.”  At Copia’s raised eyebrow you just shrugged.  “His costume has a lot of lace.”

“Ah, should have known.”  He sighed and set his brother’s bag down, bringing his hands up to the zipper on his hoodie and quickly pulling it off.  “Wear this while I walk you back.”

“I don’t need your escort or your hoodie.”

“You are unfortunately getting both Paperina so chop, chop.  Let’s go.”

You both stared each other down, although his look was much more amused than yours was.

“Fine, whatever.  Gimme.”  His little smug grin had you gritting your teeth.  It was unfair that he looked this good.  Once you had his hoodie on and zipped up you held your arms out.  “Happy?”

The look he gave you then was definitely appreciative.  Lingering long enough on your face that you hoped he thought your red cheeks were from the cold and not your blush.

“Molto felice.”  Copia easily swung Terzo’s bag over his shoulder and gestured for you to go ahead of him.  “You first Paperina.”

The walk back to the Olympic Village was mostly quiet.  Once or twice you thought you heard him singing softly under his breath but he stopped whenever you glanced his way.  You were trying very hard not to stare at him.  Copia carried himself in that confident way athletes at the top of their game had.  It made you self conscious and you immediately straightened up, pulling your shoulders back and correcting your posture.

It had been a while since you’d been at the top of yours.

The large lounge area on the main floor was still mostly full.  Athletes from all sports and countries getting to know each other or sitting quietly on their own.  Four years ago you’d be down here with them, finding new friends and connections.  You couldn’t afford that this year though, not with so much on the line.

“Paperina?”  Copia’s voice dragged you from your melancholy thoughts.  You expected to see an amused look on his face but instead he looked almost concerned.  “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yes.  I’m good.  Actually this is good.”   He raised an eyebrow when you held your hands out for Terzo’s bag.  “I got it from here.”

“Terzo already bitched at me about how far away his room was, let me help.”

“No it’s fine, really.”  Copia sighed, seemingly understanding he wasn’t going to win.  “Thank you for your help though.”

“It’s nothing.  The least I could do, uh, since my brother left you.”

“I’m not mad, it was for a good cause.”

“Sí, a hockey captain.”  You stared at each other for a moment, long enough that you started fidgeting under his stare.  “Have a good night Paperina.”

“You too Copia.”

He gave you one last smile before turning and heading off, disappearing into a crowd of Canadians.  With a sigh you began to make your way towards the elevators for your section of the dorms.  Terzo was right, your room was far away.  But it was nice to be able to room with your friend.  You knew Terzo had thrown his family name around, and probably a little money, to make it happen.  It made times he did stupid things like tonight more bearable.

Still, it didn’t stop you from dropping both your bags down in front of your door with a curse aimed his way.  Another curse left you when you noticed the sock on the doorknob.  You started knocking on the door sharply, turning your hand to hit it with the side of your fist when nothing happened.

“Terzo!” 

There was muffled cursing behind the door and the sound of something being knocked over before it opened and your friend shoved his head through the opening.

“Sí?”

“What are you doing?”

“What do you think I’m doing?  Didn’t you see the sock?”  You flinched back when Terzo yanked it off the doorknob and swung it in front of your face.  “I’m having sex!”

“Good for you, why are you having sex in our room?  I thought you were going back to Omega’s!”

“Ah well, you see his roommate had already claimed the room.  So.  Here we are.”  Terzo’s grin turned into a grimace when you twisted his nipple.  “Ai!  I just got that pierced!”

“I don’t care!  I am tired, I am cold and I’m dressed like a fucking swan.  Let me in.”

“I am begging you to go away.”

“Where am I supposed to go?!”

“I don’t know!  Go mingle downstairs!  Show off your feathers.”  He jerked back, slamming into the door to get away from your fingers.  “Stop pinching!”

“Stop being an asshole!”

“Amica mia, please.  Omega.”  Terzo gestures towards the door in that hopeless way he did when he was struggling to find the right words.  “I like him.”

“Like like?”  He rolled his eyes but gave you a quick nod.  Goddammit.  “Alright!  But just tonight though!”

“Sí, sí.  Just tonight.”  Terzo tugged you in for a quick hug, pressing a noisy kiss into your temple before pulling away.  His hands lingering on your shoulders as he looked down at your chest.  You were about to tell him off for staring before you realized he was looking at the hoodie.  Copia’s hoodie.  “Where did you get this?”

“Your brother came looking for you and took pity on me.”

“Maybe he just didn’t want to be seen next to that costu—ow, ow!  What did I say!  They are healing!”  He hissed at you as he pressed himself back into the door, his arms crossed comically high on his chest.  “Are you two friends now?”

“Sure, we’re best friends.  I think we’ll room together at the next Olympics.”  When Terzo started waggling his eyebrows you groaned.  “Shut up.”

“This is his last one, amica.”  You gave him a questioning look but Terzo just shrugged.  “That’s what he’s been saying at least.”

“Anyway, how long do you need?  Five minutes?  Ten?”

“You did see Omega, right?  Try five hours.”  You wrinkled your nose at the thought and Terzo gleefully continued,  “He likes to switch too.  Is this…is this what love feels like?”

“Two hours.  No, stop pouting.  You have two hours Terzo before I break the door down.”

“Fine. Deal.”  He opened the door again and grabbed the bags, quickly tossing them inside before spinning around with a grin on his face.  “Go make some new friends while I make some babies.”

He laughed at the horrified look on your face, taking advantage of it to slip back into the room and shut the door.  The sound of the lock clicking was loud in the empty hallway.  You sighed and shoved your hands into your borrowed hoodie, looking down at it for a moment and then freezing when you saw the feathers peeking out from below. 

“Fuck.”

The lounge was thankfully a little quieter when you got back down there.  No one gave you any weird looks at least.  You found a seat close to one of the big fireplaces and settled down, letting the heat wash over you.  Hopefully no one would bat an eye if you fell asleep, it certainly wouldn’t be the first time an athlete had been locked out of their room for one reason or another.

“Paperina?”  You groaned and looked up into the face of Terzo’s brother.  “What are you doing down here?”

His clothes were different, you could see the blue of his skating suit peeking out at his neck and at his wrists.  He had reapplied the makeup around his eyes too, as well as covering just his upper lip.  It probably would bother you more if Terzo didn’t regularly wear skull makeup during his routines.  The Emeritus family was interesting, you had to give them that. 

“Your brother and the hockey captain were there.”  A flash of irritation washed over Copia’s face so you quickly reached out and grasped his hand.  When he glanced down at it you immediately let go, watching as he flexed it afterwards.  “It’s fine, I gave him two hours.”

“You’re going to sit here for two hours?”

“Yes, it’s ok.  I’ve got the fire and I can take a little nap.”  You flinched when a few guys started shouting at something playing on a tv nearby.  “I’m good.”

“You’re too nice Paperina, that stronzino doesn’t deserve you.”  Copia held both of his hands out to you smiling when you just stared at them.  “Let’s go, you can come with me.”

“Come with you where?  Hey!” 

He had reached down and grabbed your hands, easily pulling you out of the chair and ushering you ahead of him towards the door. 

“If you’re gonna just sit somewhere you can sit and watch me skate in circles.  How about that?”

He looked cocky and sure of himself, exactly how you’d expect an eight time gold medalist to look.  You bit your lip as you thought it over.  Speed skating had never been a sport you sought out to watch.  Skating in circles was boring, no one could convince you otherwise.  But you couldn’t help but glance down at his legs, at the sweatpants you knew were covering that tight uniform.  The tight uniform over those huge thighs. 

At least the scenery would be nice. 

“How long will this take?”

“Eh, usually I practice for three hours.”

“I gave Terzo two.”

“We both know he’ll beg you for one more so just sit here like a good little Swan Lake and watch, okie dokie?”

“Ugh, fine.”  Copia raised an eyebrow when you shivered, the hoodie of his not doing much against the cold of the rink.  Your thin costume underneath didn’t help either.  “I’m fine.”

“Do you ever get tired of pretending to be fine?”

His question stunned you long enough you didn’t even protest when he pulled his coat off and threw it over you.  Copia was grinning when you yanked it off your head, watching as you situated it over yourself for a moment before he headed towards the locker rooms.  You tried very hard not to watch him go but it was near impossible and you were too tired to care.  After a few minutes of looking around you couldn’t help but burrow deeper into his coat, his cologne clinging to the fabric.  You allowed yourself one deep inhale, your eyes closing briefly while you tried to pinpoint the brand.

“Acqua di Gio.”  You flinched, nearly slipping off the bench at Copia’s voice.  “Armani.”

“I know it’s Armani.”

Your voice came out a little harsher than you wanted but luckily he just seemed amused.   After you had settled back into your seat you managed to look him over.  Gone were the sweatpants, he was now just in his sleek skating suit and it was clinging to every dip and curl of muscle on his body.  You didn’t even bother looking back up at his face, you knew by now he’d be smug as all hell.  Instead you noticed a styrofoam cup in his hand, finally meeting his eyes when he held it out towards you.

“Hot cocoa.  To warm you up.”  You timidly reached out and took it, not even minding when his gloved fingers lingered against yours.  “Unless you want more of my clothes.”

“Fuck off.”  His chuckle was starting to become one of your favorite sounds and this was ridiculous, you barely knew him!  You needed to get some distance and clear your head.  “Go on, show me how well you can skate in a circle.”

His only answer was a smirk as he backed away a few steps before heading towards the opening to the rink.  He pulled the covers off his blades, tossing them to the side before shooting out onto the ice.  There were a few others already out there and it was fascinating to see them give Copia space, a sign of deference you supposed.  He nodded their way but didn’t say anything, just started to go through a series of stretches while you all looked on. 

Despite the public setting it felt very private.  Terzo had been sharing a lot of little anecdotes about his brother since you’d both arrived at the Games.  Information you wouldn’t hear about in anything official.  You knew that Copia had been having problems with his knee, that it had been obviously bothering him more and more.  He’d only received one gold in the last games when he normally would get it in all of his events.  Since then he hadn’t competed much, a few European tournaments here and there.

According to Terzo he was saving himself for one last Olympic Games, this Olympic Games.  Copia was determined to go out at the top of his game.  With the way the media and even his brother had depicted him, an extremely serious athlete that seemed to live on the ice it was strange to look back on the last few hours and how he acted.  He was far more carefree than you expected.  Quick to joke around even if it was at your expense.

You had a feeling Paperina didn’t mean what you thought it did.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the distinct sound of skates gliding across the ice.  It was louder than what you were used to but as you looked out towards the rink you easily figured out why.  Copia was a blur as he moved across the ice, his powerful legs pumping him towards each corner.  It was then he’d lower one side of his body down, his fingertips grazing the ice and keeping him balanced until he was through.

“He’s something else, isn’t he?”

You smiled at the man that sat down next to you, someone you had looked forward to seeing as soon as you had arrived at the Olympic Village.

“Hi Primo.”  He gave you a warm smile, knocking his shoulder against yours.  “Did you come to cheer him on?”

“It seems that’s what he brought you for, hmm?”  You rolled your eyes, hunkering further down into Copia’s coat.  “I didn’t realize you two knew each other.”

“We just met actually, a few hours ago.”

“Thick as thieves already then, I’m not surprised.”  He ignored the questioning look you gave him so you shoved your elbow into his side.  “Careful now, I’m an old man.”

“He just feels bad.  Terzo kicked me out.”

“I warned you not to room with him.”  He shook his head but he was clearly not surprised at Terzo’s antics.  “A snowboarder?”

“Nope, hockey.  The captain of the Sweden team.”

“Secondo is going to kill him.”

“Good, then I’ll have the room to myself.”

It was Primo’s turn to elbow you and when you looked his way he nodded towards the rink.  Your eyes immediately found Copia’s as he leaned against the wall.  He had taken his helmet off and his hair was all over the place.  You could see how flushed his cheeks were already, his breathing heavy from the laps he’d put in.

“I don’t know, looks like you might have some company.”

He didn’t give you a chance to say anything back, but you were too dumbfounded to say anything anyway.  Primo waved at his brother before giving your leg a squeeze and getting up.  His movements were a little slower than you remembered but you knew when it was time for his event he’d be gliding across the ice just like he’d been doing for years.  There was a reason he’d led the Italian curling team to so many podiums.

You took a long drink of your cocoa, a little disappointed it had lost most of its warmth.  Copia was still looking your way when you glanced at him although you couldn’t read the expression on his face.  The eye contact was lost when one of the other skaters stopped by him and you let out the breath you’d been holding when he looked away.

This was ridiculous, you were acting like some love struck teenager.  You needed to get a grip.  Neither one of you could afford distractions right now.  Both of you skating with the same goal in mind but for very different reasons.  As if on cue your knee twinged slightly and you slowly stretched it out in front of you.  It was fine, it was going to be fine.  You’d gotten silver in the last two tournaments you’d done leading up to this year's Olympics.  It was fine.

You were fine.

“Hey.”

“Goddammit.”  The man next to you was the same one that had been talking to Copia on the ice.  You took a quick breath and glanced up at him.  “Uh, what’s up?”

“I’m supposed to give you this.”  He thrust another styrofoam cup towards you so you quickly set down the empty one you had been holding.  “And this.”

In his other hand was one of those large soft pretzels that every concession stand on the planet sold.  The kind covered in salt and butter.  They were your favorite thing to get whenever you needed something quick to eat.  You eagerly took it from the man’s hand, muttering a thanks when he nodded and then started walking towards the locker room.

Back on the ice Copia was doing laps again.  Everyone else had left so it was just him out there, although he was acting like he was fighting off a handful of other skaters.  His movements were truly mesmerizing.  Even from your seat you could see his muscles move, see the concentration on his face as he made lap after lap.

He slid to a stop right in front of where you were sitting, catching your eyes as you took a huge bite of the pretzel.  Part of it was sticking out of your mouth as you watched him.  It was too late to try to be ladylike about it so you just ate it how you normally would.   Copia held up a finger, gesturing at his wrist briefly.  One more hour then.  You nodded at him, saluting him with the rest of your pretzel and finding way too much joy in the sound of his laughter echoing from the rink.

“Is your knee ok?”  

You were on your way back to the dorms, snow starting to softly fall around you.  Copia had taken his hoodie back but you were still wearing his jacket.  His cologne had probably permeated your costume at this point and you were stuck between liking the idea but also dreading the distraction it might bring.

“It’s good, feels good to walk.”  You let your face fall into the neck of his coat, trying to hide your smile.  “How about yours?”

“Eh it will be fine.  A nice massage, some ice and it will be good as new.” 

“I didn’t realize the clinics were open this late.”

“I’ll be massaging it myself, Paperina.  That is unless you’re offering?”

“No!  No I’m not.”  He snorted and was shaking his head when you looked at him again.  “What?”

“You don’t have to be so scandalized.  What’s a little knee massage between friends huh?”

“So we’re friends?”

The automatic doors of the building slid open and you couldn’t help but start to walk faster.  Copia easily picked up his pace to match yours, following you all the way to the elevators towards your section of the dorms.

“Is that what you want?  To be friends?”

There was no denying the charged air between you two.  The attraction between you both had been building ever since he had taken Terzo’s bag from you.  You couldn’t help but take a step back though, wincing when a brief look of disappointment appeared on his face.

“I don’t think we can afford to be anything else.”  You knew your face showed your own disappointment and you didn’t bother trying to hide it.  Your fingers twisted nervously where they were hidden in the sleeves of his coat while you debated on saying what you wanted to.  Fuck it.  “At least for right now.”

“Right now?”  His smile was back as he walked towards you.  It grew slightly predatory when you started to back away, only stopping when your back hit the wall by the elevator doors.  “Then when can that change?”

“After our events.  We can’t get distrac—oh.”  Copia had pressed forward, resting his forearms against the wall by your head.  He had showered in the locker room but there was still the slight smell of sweat on him.  His head dropped close enough you felt his lips brush ever so slightly against your cheek.  “Copia…”

“Our events then.  After we get gold, yeah?” 

“Yes.  At least I hope so.”

“Don’t worry Paperina,”  Copia stepped back, smiling smugly as he held your gaze.  “I’ll give you one of mine if you don’t.”  

Thankfully the sock was gone when you got back to the room.  

You quietly opened the door, peeking in but not seeing anyone inside.  They must have been able to go back to Omega’s room.  You took advantage of the emptiness, quickly shucking Copia’s coat and tossing it over a chair.  The next part was your costume, you had to be extra careful removing it.  The last thing you wanted to worry about doing was losing more damn feathers.  

The shower felt heavenly and you got it as hot as you dared.  The scent of Copia’s cologne that was lingering on your skin washed off quickly but you tried not to dwell on it.  It was obvious you’d be seeing him again.  He certainly didn’t seem like the type to give up easily, much like his brothers.  You snorted thinking of his last comment.  The Emeritus’s were a cocky bunch, but it was with good reason.

You took a deep breath and tried to clear all of the Emeritus brothers out of your mind.  It was tough like usual to get all the hairspray washed out of your hair but once you were done you allowed yourself to just relax and lean against the wall.  Looking down your body you watched the soap slowly fall over your skin and down onto the tile.  Your eyes fell onto your knee like they usually did when there was nothing covering it and it made you wince like always.

It wasn’t so much that you thought it was ugly, to you it was a mark of survival.  Not that it was necessarily a life threatening thing.  In reality a fall while doing a jump could have gone far, far worse than it did.  But landing on your knee had been excruciating.  Laying out there on the ice in front of thousands of people had been excruciating.  However the two years you had spent rehabbing it had been worse.

The multiple surgeries, the constant appointments for physical therapy…  It felt like you had practically lived at the hospital for those two years.  But you had been determined to come back from it.  You were too young to let your dream go.  Your eyes were drawn to your knee like always, to the scars that ran along the sides.  The doctor had jokingly said that shorts and short skirts might not be in your future and it had taken so much willpower not to punch him.  

Your scars were proof that you had survived the injury.  That you hadn’t let it stop you from pursuing what you had been doing since you were a kid.  Since you could even stand up on skates.  This is what you had always wanted to do, what you had dreamed of.  The Winter Olympics were the pinnacle of that dream.  You were determined to get on that podium this year.  You wanted to show everyone that nothing would stop you from getting there.

Copia’s face appeared in your mind then.  You could imagine his smug grin as he teased you.  You thought of the way he smelled, the way he covered you in his scent by loaning you his coat.  You thought of his body in his uniform, how powerful his legs were.  He could probably hold you up easily, maybe push one of his knees between your legs and let you straddle his thick thigh.

Your head fell back against the shower wall, a little zing of pleasure running through you at the thought.  Almost absentmindedly you placed your hand on your stomach, rubbing it over your skin in a few circles before letting it slip down further and into the thatch of hair between your legs.  You thought of grinding against Copia’s thigh, your feet probably not even touching the ground because he was holding you up so high.  

Two of your fingers rubbed tight circles over your clit as you fell deeper into your fantasy.  Copia’s fingers were thick, it was obvious even with them hidden under those gloves.  They were thick and they’d feel amazing stroking inside of you.  You brought your other hand to your cunt and rubbed across your entrance.  A moan punched out of you when you pressed two of them inside.  There was barely any resistance you were already so turned on just by thinking about Copia doing this to you.

He probably loved to dirty talk, he probably loved describing all the things he planned on doing to you.  Your fingers pumped faster imagining the filthy things he would whisper in your year.  Things he would do to you if you only asked.  You’d more than ask, you’d beg for it if you had to.  You couldn’t help but admit to yourself that you wanted everything.  His mouth, his fingers, his cock...

You wanted it all.

The next few days went by in a blur.

Both you and Terzo were focused on practicing for your upcoming events.  You each had a short and long program to skate, the combined scores of both decided your final place in the standings.  Despite the importance of it all Terzo did manage to skip out a lot to meet up with Omega.  You had met him a few times by now as well and you had immediately liked him.  He was just the kind of partner Terzo needed.  Honestly he was the kind of partner you wanted.

Of course thinking about partners had your stupid mind drifting to Copia.  You hadn’t seen him at all since that night, only catching glimpses of his face on the tv screens or the odd magazine laying around the lounge and cafeteria.  It wasn’t like you expected to spend all your time with him, but it made that whole night feel surreal.  Terzo hadn’t been super helpful about the whole thing.  With romance on his brain he had started going on about all these elaborate scenarios featuring you and Copia.  Olympic themed dates and Olympic themed gifts.  

The Olympic themed wedding talk was the last straw and you had demanded he leave the room for a bit that night.  You knew he had planned on doing that anyway, Omega’s team was practicing and watching him play had become Terzo’s favorite new thing.  Well, that and fucking him probably.  So with the room empty it was time for you to do something you always did before events, especially after your accident at the last Olympic Games.  It just wasn’t something you enjoyed in any way, shape or form.    

You hated reviewing training footage.  It was frustrating going over your previous performances and pinpointing where you had made mistakes.  Where you had turned a triple axel into a double.  Where you’d missed the timing on a jump.  Where you’d stumbled on a landing.

Where you had fallen and nearly destroyed your career.

In your coach’s defense he never made you watch that one again.  Rewatching that was something you did on your own.  Terzo always hated it and would call it self destructive.  That was part of the reason you were alone in your room tonight.  He had seen you break out your laptop and left to meet Omega earlier than planned. 

You’d been surprised he wasn’t out with Copia celebrating his brother’s win but Terzo had said Copia wasn’t much for celebrating until the games were completely done.  Of course when that thought crossed through your mind you immediately blushed.  The memory of that night with him was something you had been replaying a lot, especially the ending and the deal you had made. 

Before you could talk yourself out of it you searched for the race he was in today, quickly hitting play when it came up.  Not surprisingly the announcers were talking about Copia most of the time.  Even if it wasn’t his last Olympics he was still the most well known athlete there, the most decorated.  You watched as he warmed up and briefly chatted with his fellow racers.  He looked so at ease, like he wasn’t about to race his heart out for one of the final times in his career.

You really envied him.  He had so much pressure on him but just looking at him smiling on the ice you would think it was just another day.  Even though you knew the result you found yourself holding your breath as everyone waited for the race to begin.  When they took off Copia easily got to the front, quickly putting distance between himself and the others.  The camera stayed on him and you got to see the muscles of his legs flex and move up close.  You could see the determination in his eyes, the lights in the arena reflected off both but especially the odd white one his family was all born with.

It was always strange to you when something so important, so pivotal to someone’s career was over in just a few moments.  Copia crossed the finish line with ease, one arm pumping briefly into the air as he flashed a dazzling smile to the crowd.  The camera panned briefly to where his brothers were seated.  Terzo looked ridiculous in his big faux fur coat but it made you smile to see Omega swing an arm over his shoulders.  There was more between your friend and the hockey captain than just an “Olympic Village fling”, that was obvious.

Primo looked proud like he always did, no matter how well his younger brothers did in their events.  Next to Primo, looking stern but proud, was Secondo.  He was dressed in one of his typical three piece suits, clapping and cheering with the crowd.  The camera soon panned away and back onto the ice.  Copia was standing patiently next to the second and third place winners but you kept noticing his eyes darting out into the stands.  You knew he had seen his brothers, family was always seated around the same area, so you were curious who he seemed to be looking for.  He almost looked disappointed after taking a final scan of the crowd before being ushered onto the podium. 

The thought crossed your mind briefly that he might have been looking for you but that was ridiculous.  While Terzo had invited you it had seemed a little too much to go watch Copia’s race.  You hadn’t really sorted out exactly what you were feeling towards him.  Obviously physical attraction but there was something else there, something that made your insides flutter when you thought about him. 

Watching him at the top of the podium, handsome and beaming as the gold medal was slipped over his head didn’t help.  He shook hands with the official that gave him the medal and then his fellow athletes before standing tall again.  The camera panned up to the Italian flag hanging higher than the others, only going back to Copia when his national anthem started playing. 

You watched as his lips moved, mouthing along to the lyrics being played.  His makeup was slightly smeared from sweat but it did nothing to detract from his handsome features.  When the music swelled he appeared to be full on singing, his throat bobbing as he did so.  Your mind went back to when you were walking to the dorms in the snow after watching him practice.  His shoulder knocking against yours, his coat warm over your stupid costume and the smell of his cologne embedding itself in your brain.

There was definitely something more there. 

An abrupt knock on the door had you pausing the video, the screen freezing right as Copia was looking directly into the camera.

“Who is it?”  After no one answered you focused back on the screen again but another set of knocks echoed through the room.  You groaned, figuring it might be Terzo trying to get back in.  The knocking continued as you unfolded your legs and hopped off your bed.  “Terzo I told you to make sure you had your key!”

You unlocked and flung the door open, ready to bitch at your friend some more but the face on the other side was not your roommate.

“Paperina.”  Copia’s eyes swept over you, making you immediately self conscious of the old, oversized sweats you were wearing.  “No feathers today?” 

“Not today, no.”  You fiddled with the zipper on your hoodie while you let your eyes wander over him.  He was wearing all black, a color that definitely suited him.  Your eyes couldn’t help but linger on how his tight jeans clung to his thighs and when you finally glanced up he was pleased as hell about it.  “Tomorrow is the short program.” 

“Are you ready?” 

While you desperately wanted to say no and that you were scared out of your mind you squared your shoulders and gave him the most convincing smile you could manage.

“Yes, yes I am.”  You both stood there for a moment in silence, staring at each other.  After what seemed like an eternity you finally snapped.  “What is it?  I’m busy.”

“Are you?”  He pushed off from the door jam and looked around you into the room.  “Doesn’t seem like there’s much going on.” 

“I’m watching my old rout—hey!” 

Copia easily walked around you, strolling into the room like he’d been there a hundred times.  You glared at his back briefly before deciding to just shut the door.  When you turned your eyes looked on, horrified as you watched him look down at your laptop screen, a wild grin breaking out on his face.

“You know Paperina, you could have come today.”  He grunted as he dropped onto the bed, stretching out in front of your computer.  “I told Terzo to bring you.” 

“Like I said,”  You stomped over to your bed and grabbed your laptop away from him.  “I was busy.  Am busy.  So you should go.” 

Copia sighed as he rolled into his back and tucked his hands under his head. 

“I was a little disappointed you didn’t come.”    His admission had you freezing next to the little desk you were setting your laptop on.  “You could’ve seen the whole thing up close.”

“I told you—“

“Sí, sí.  Busy.  I can tell.”  He was grinning when you spun around to glare at him.  “You shouldn’t be cooped up in here all night.” 

“I’m not cooped up, I’m getting ready for tomorrow.”

“Paperina, how many times have you done this routine?”  He turned onto his side and propped his head up on one hand.  “Watching old videos won’t help.”

“Yes, they do.  I can see where I messed up and fix it.” 

“Weren’t you there though?  You know where you made the mistakes already.  What does torturing yourself by watching them do?”

“It’s not torture!”

“Then what is it?”  His voice was gentle as he watched you, the concern evident as he spoke.  “How many times do you need to see them?”

“As many times as it takes.”

“You’re just going to be more nervous for tomorrow.”

“Look, you’re not my coach or a figure skater so don’t come in here trying to tell me how to prepare.”

“Ah yes, what do I know?  I just skate in circles.”  He groaned as he sat up, his eyes not leaving you.  “I do know that dwelling on past mistakes won’t help you.  No matter what sport you’re in.”

“Look, I need to watch them.”

“Paperina, you haven’t given me a good enough reason why.”

“Because I can’t fuck up again!”  Your eyes stung with the tears building up in them but it was too late to stop now.  It felt like the knot that had been building in your chest since the accident four years ago was finally unraveling.  “Copia, I can’t.  This is my last chance.  In four years I’ll be too old to compete against anyone here.”

You weren’t sure how long you stared at each other but it was long enough for your breathing to calm and your tears to fade.  As you were about to ask him to go he pushed himself off the bed and clapped his hands together. 

“We need to get you out of here.”

“Have you been listening to anything I’ve been saying?!”

“Sí, I heard all the bullshit you told me.”  He looked around the room, letting out a little noise when he saw his coat hanging off your chair.  “We’re going out.”

“No, Copia I can’t.”

“What did you just say?   ‘This is your last chance’?  That means it’s also your last chance to enjoy yourself here.”

“I am enjoying myself.”  When he raised an eyebrow you groaned and shook your head.  “What would we even do anyway?”

“Celebrate.”  He gave you an exaggerated pout when you just stared at him.  “My gold medal isn’t a good enough reason to celebrate?  Coming with me is the least you could do Paperina.”

“What do you mean?”

“I saved you a spot and everything.  Kept hoping I’d see you in the stands...”  Copia sighed dramatically and shook his coat out before he held it up for you.  “Remember what we talked about the other night?”

Hopefully the look on your face didn’t make it obvious you had been practically only thinking about that.

“We agreed on after our events.” 

“It is after an event though.”

“Yes, one event, Copia!  You have three more medals to compete for and I have two skate programs.”

“Just a small celebration then.”  You rolled your eyes when he pouted again.  “Per favore.” 

“How small?”

He grinned and tossed his coat at you before looking around the room.  He let out a triumphant noise when he saw your boots, grabbing them and thrusting them at you as well.

“Very small.  I know just the place.” 

“We can’t be gone long.”  He nodded as he rocked back on his heels.  “And no funny business.”

“Paperina, I will be completely serious.  I won’t even smile.” 

You snorted as you dropped your boots and shoved your feet into them.  His coat was next and it was as comfortable as you remembered when you pulled it on.

“So. Where are we going?”

“I can’t fucking believe you.”

Copia hadn’t stopped smiling as soon as you’d seen where he was taking you.  The building hadn’t been too far from the Olympic Village, a few blocks and you found yourself staring up at an old ice rink.  You looked on in disbelief as Copia walked up to the glass doors and peered inside.  The place was obviously closed but after a few knocks on the door an older man had come up to let you both in.

“You’ve got two hours Emeritus, that’s it.”

“Grazie, plenty of time.”  Copia turned and held his hand out for you.  “Paperina?”

Copia led you through the building, seemingly unbothered by the lack of lights.  His gloved hand was warm and in the dark you let yourself look down at it, trusting him to guide you where he wanted to go.  When he gave it a squeeze you looked up, noticing you were in front of the skate rental booth.

“Copia, what are we doing here?”

“What does it look like?”  He let go of your hand and walked around the counter, disappearing for a moment before coming back with an armful of ice skates.  “Here these should fit.”

“Ice skating is our job!  Why would you want to come here on your night off?”

“Because ice skating should be fun and you need to remember that.”  He came around the counter and took your hand again.  “When was the last time you had fun out on the ice?”

It was startling to you when your mind drew a blank.  Even the times you’d been out there practicing with Terzo all you remember feeling was stress.  You resisted when he tried to tug you towards the rink.

“What if we get hurt?”

“Don’t do any triple axels and I think you’ll be fine.”  When you stayed put as he tried to go to the rink again he sighed.  To your surprise he dropped his skates and turned around, coming right into your space and cupping your cheeks.  “Paperina, I promise that you will have fun.”

You closed your eyes for a few seconds, letting the heat from his hands and gloves warm your cheeks. 

“I want a pretzel.”

Copia let out a bark of laughter, leaning forward and resting his forehead against yours.

“I think the concession stand is closed.” 

“That’s the price.  One pretzel.”

“Okie dokie.  I’ll see what I can do.” 

You ended up with two pretzels and that fluttering feeling in your chest getting worse. 

After banging around trying to first find the pretzels the next problem was sorting out how to heat them.  Copia had been attempting to get the little heater rack going when the owner had stomped over with an exasperated look on his face. 

“Really, Emeritus?”

“The lady is hungry!” 

The man had grabbed the two pretzels and disappeared into the back.  While he worked you and Copia had made your way to the rink, throwing your coats over the wall and sitting down to get your skates on.  They definitely weren’t as nice as you normally wore and you tried not to think of how clean they might be, but it was actually helping you relax a bit.  You hadn’t skated in a rink like this since you were a kid first taking lessons.  There was zero pressure here, just you and the ice.

Well…Copia and his thighs too.

It was unfair how good he looked in those jeans.  You tried not to stare but that only ended with your eyes wandering elsewhere.  He had some random band tee over a long sleeve shirt.  His gloves were still on as well as the dark gray scarf he’d been wearing since he showed up at your door.  He looked good, he probably looked good in everything.  He probably looked really good in noth—

“Here’s your damn pretzels.”

You grabbed them when the owner thrusted them in front of your face, setting one down next to you and biting into the other.  He and Copia appeared to be having a somewhat heated conversation but you chose to ignore it and focus on your food.  Copia was right, you needed to enjoy your time here.  And not just here at the rink but during the entire two weeks the Olympics were going on.  You were so lucky to have this chance and while you didn’t want to mess it up, you also wanted to look back on it fondly no matter what happened. 

“Okie dokie, two hours!” 

Copia plopped down next to you, grabbing the second pretzel and taking a bite. 

“Hey that’s mine!”

“These actually aren’t bad, Paperina.”  You took a big bite of your own and glared at him.  “Not going to help me get into my suit tomorrow but eh, oh well.”

“You’ll still look good, don’t worry.”  As soon as you realized what you said you froze, sneaking a glance at him and sighing when you saw his grin.  “Don’t.”

“You’ll look good too.  Bellissima.”  He shoved the rest of the pretzel in his mouth and then pulled the skates on.  “I can’t wait to see you in those feathers again.” 

“Wait, you’re coming?” 

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”  You hid your pleased smile by leaning down and getting the skates on although when you sat up he was still watching you.  “It’s the next event anyway, I’ll want to collect on our deal.” 

“Technically the short program is part of one event, one medal.  I still have the long program.” 

Copia walked in front of you and held his hands out, a gesture you were getting used to.  When he had pulled you up and helped steady you on the unfamiliar skates he leaned in closer, his handsome face taking up your vision.

“I think we can bend the rules a bit again, don’t you?”

Being on the ice with Copia was a blast.

While you both agreed on no racing or jumping it wasn’t long before you were squealing and shoving your way past him to get to the end of the rink first.  Luckily you were both still getting used to the new skates, in Copia’s case they were a lot different than his usual ones so it gave you a good advantage.  Your triumphant whoop at hitting the end of the rink before him was drowned out by you screeching when he grabbed you and dug his fingers into your sides.

“No!  Copi—ahh!  Stop, stop!”  You were laughing despite your frantic protests.  Finally pushing him away and out of reach.  “You’re just jealous I’m better on the ice than you.” 

“Paperina, if I had my regular skates on I’d be able to lap you twice before you hit the end.” 

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, handsome.” 

You skated away so you wouldn’t have to see his smug grin but also to hide your blush.  There really wasn’t a point in hiding your attraction to him anymore, but that didn’t mean you needed to make it easy on him.  You were nearly half the rink away from him when you heard him coming up behind you.  The sounds of his blades sliding across the ice was loud and you weren’t surprised to see him blow by you.  But instead of turning the corner to show off his speed he suddenly threw his arms out and then leapt into the air, executing a near perfect jump, spinning and landing with a flourish. 

Copia stayed where he was as you skated up to him with a stunned look on your face.  You were both surprised and irritated he had managed to pull it off so well.  Of course you’d seen his brother do it plenty of times but that was his area of expertise.  Copia wasn’t a figure skater.

“How…how did you…?”

“Do you need me to show you how the move works?”  He held up his hands when you glared at him.  “I grew up with Terzo, Paperina.  I’d practice with him sometimes.”

“‘Sometimes’ huh?”  You shook your head in disbelief, beginning to skate closer to him.  “Is there anything you aren’t good at?”

“Kissing.”

His answer startled you enough you tried to stop and ended up losing your balance.  Copia’s hands shooting out and grabbing you around your waist were the only thing that kept you upright.  You found yourself placing your hands on his shoulders as his own slid further around you and rested at the small of your back. 

“Kissing?”

“Sí.  I’m terrible at it.” 

“Oh. Well, that’s a shame.”  He nodded solemnly, the twinkle in his eyes the only thing giving away the joke.  “You should try to get some practice in.”

“Will you help me, Paperina?”

You wanted to say yes, you wanted to shout yes.  But you really didn’t need to say anything, it was obviously what you both wanted right then.  You leaned in at the same time as Copia, your lips touching gently against each other for only a moment before the movements became more intense.  Copia kept one arm around your waist but the other he slid up to cradle the back of your head.  You wrapped your own arms around his neck and pushed your fingers into his hair.  When he urged your head to tilt to the side his mouth opened over yours and you let out a tiny moan when his tongue pushed inside.

As you flicked your own tongue against his you pressed yourself as close to him as possible.  Kissing on ice skates was definitely not ideal and you nearly bit his tongue when he tugged you closer and you almost fell.  Copia pulled away with a growl, both of his hands going down to grip your ass as he gently pushed you backwards.  You couldn’t take your eyes off his already swollen lips but when your back hit the side of the rink you glanced up to meet his mismatched gaze.

He took his hands off your ass and used one to cup your face, the other pressed against the concrete wall that was on one side of the rink.  It looked like he was going to say something but thought better of it, his mouth lowering once more to yours.  This kiss was immediately hot and dirty, your tongues fighting each other for some unknown prize.  A deep groan vibrated in his chest when you nipped and sucked on his and he pressed his body even harder against yours.  

When you started to lose your footing on the ice again Copia shoved his knee between your legs, pushing it against the wall.  He gripped your hips with both hands and lifted you, propping you up so his strong thigh was basically the only thing keeping you upright.  The muscle pressing against you and the heat from his leg along with the friction against your core had you whimpering into his mouth.  Copia pulled his mouth away from you and leaned his forehead against yours once more.

“I knew you’d be like this.”  He tugged your hips back and forth to rub you against him even more deliciously and you panted into his mouth.  “So responsive for me.  I bet you’re already wet too.”

“What about you?”  Copia groaned when you reached down and rubbed his hardening dick through his jeans.  “Looks like I’m not the only one.”

With a growl he kissed you again, nipping at your lips and tongue.  His mustache tickled your skin and you knew you’d have to apply extra makeup tomorrow to hide the redness.  Honestly you didn’t care what he did at the moment, you just wanted him to keep kissing you.  You had one arm wrapped around his neck for balance but you pushed your other hand back into his hair, scratching at his scalp and enjoying the way he groaned at the contact.  When Copia pulled one hand off your hip you expected to feel it delve into your own hair but instead his warm palm covered your breast and it was your turn to groan when he rubbed his thumb across your hardening nipple.

If it wasn’t for the sudden blast of music blaring across the speakers you probably would have let him fuck you right there on the ice.  Copia pulled away, a violent series of Italian curses falling from his lips.  Thankfully he helped keep you steady because at the moment your legs were in no shape to keep you on your feet.  You chose to cling to his shirt and bury your face in his chest to try to catch your breath as you felt him jerk his head around looking for the culprit.  When the music stopped you heard the voice of the owner over the intercom.

“Time’s up Emeritus!  Take the lady to bed at least!”   

You snorted against Copia, smiling when you heard him laugh too.  He was keeping a firm grip on you, one hand rubbing up and down your back when he felt you shiver.  It had little to do with the cold though.  Your body was still coming down from the pleasure that had built up inside of you and when you moved you could feel Copia was still slightly hard.  He hissed when you moved against him again.

“Quit that, we have an audience.”

“You started it.”

He laughed again, cupping your face so he could tilt it up and you could meet his eyes.

“I didn’t hear any complaints from you.  Just “Oh Copia, yes Copia.  Hey!”  He barely caught his balance when you pushed him away, his arms flailing wildly as you started skating towards the exit.  You had just placed a hand on the wall to step out of the rink when he came up behind you, his hands finding your hips and pulling you back against him so he could lean down and whisper into your ear.  “You will be saying that to me eventually, Paperina.  I promise you.”

He helped you step out of the rink, his hand not leaving the small of your back until you were at the bench where your things were.  Copia knelt down in front of you and batted your hands away so he could untie your laces and slip the skates off your feet.  You flexed them when they were free, happy to have them out of the unfamiliar skates.  When Copia took your right foot in his hand you gasped.  It turned into a quiet moan when he began to dig his thumbs into the sole and massage the tightness out.

“Oh!  Right there.”  You bit your lip to try to keep all the noises you wanted to make from escaping.  Copia’s fingers were magic, not that you should be surprised.  “Yes, Copia that’s perfect.”

“See?  Only took a few minutes.”  

When you realized what he meant you couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head at his antics.  He switched to your other foot with a grin and gave it the same attention before finally pulling away to get his own skates off.  The owner was waiting for you at the front and thankfully didn’t say anything as you slipped by.  You knew your hair was probably a mess, not to mention how swollen your lips were.  At least the coat Copia had on was long enough to cover his crotch.  By how stiff he was walking it was obvious he was still a little hard and you smiled smugly as you walked ahead of him.

“You owe me Emeritus.”

“Sí, sí.”  Copia finished talking to the owner and then jogged to catch up with you, quickly grabbing your hand when he did.  You couldn’t stop yourself from leaning into him a bit, especially with the air having gotten colder.  “So, did you have fun?”

“It was ok.”  

When he gasped dramatically you tucked your head into his arm for a moment to try and warm up your nose.  He clicked his tongue and stopped, tugging at his scarf to release it.  When he started wrapping it around your neck you suddenly couldn’t meet his eyes.  The act felt intimate, much more so than what had just happened in the rink.  Copia leaned in to kiss your cold nose when he was done.

“I’m going to have to buy more clothes soon if you keep taking them all.”  You were about to respond when you noticed a familiar looking ribbon under the color of his shirt.  Copia caught you looking and smiled, grabbing it and then pulling it out so you could see.  The gold medal he earned that day shone under the streetlamp and you tentatively reached out to touch it.  “You don’t get this one, Paperina.”

“You’re right, I’ll be getting my own soon.”

He grinned, shoving the medal back under his shirt and then taking your hand again.  The walk back to the village was quiet.  The only sounds coming from the snow crunching under your shoes and the occasional conversations from people passing you by.  The lounge was still busy despite the hour and Copia kept you close as crowds of athletes moved around you both.  He didn’t let go of your hand when you got into the elevator or even when you got to the door of your room, giving it a quick squeeze as you shoved your key into the door.

“Is Terzo here?”

“No, he said he’d be staying with Omega tonight.”

“Ah, young love.”  You smiled, looking down at your hand in his until another squeeze had you meeting his eyes.  “Will you be ok by yourself, Paperina?”

“I will lock my door and not let any strangers in, I promise.”

“Tsk, that’s not what I meant.  I don’t want you ah, ‘reviewing the tapes’.”

You winced, feeling a little guilty because for some reason you had debated on doing that.  But no, Copia was right.  That wasn’t going to do you any good.

“Nope, straight to bed for me.”

It was on the tip of your tongue to invite him in and the more you thought about it the more you wanted it to happen.  But it was already late and there was no way you’d get any sleep with Copia in bed with you.  He gave you a small smile before bringing his free hand to his mouth and tugging his glove off with his teeth.  When he was done he brought it to his scarf and started to tug it loose from your neck.  You thought he was going to pull it off at first but he just pushed it away enough so he could cup your cheek.  His thumb brushed along your bottom lip and you couldn’t help but stick your tongue out and touch his skin.  Copia groaned and crowded you back against the door.

“I’m trying to be good and follow your rules here but you are making it very difficult.”

“You already broke the rules by coming here in the first place.”

“Eh, more like adjusted them a bit.”  He sucked his full bottom lip between his teeth while his eyes dropped to your own lips.  “It was worth it though, sÍ?”

“Yes, thank you for doing this.”  

Copia smiled and dropped a kiss on your forehead.

“We’ll get to do this again tomorrow night, yeah?  After your event?”

“I told you, it’s just the short program.  There’s no medal tomorrow.”

“But it’s important.  Right?”  When you nodded he cocked his head to the side for a moment.  “Fifth place or better.”

“What?”

“Your scores, if you get fifth place or better we’ll have another date.”  

You thought about it for a moment and then nodded.  Fifth place or higher would put you in a good position before your long program later in the week.  Your combined scores, as long as you skated well, would put you in contention for a medal.  You desperately wanted gold but you were starting to realize any medal would be amazing.  A great achievement after your injury and the long recovery.  You just wanted on that podium, that’s all.  It was doable and after tonight with Copia you felt like you’d make it up there.

As long as you skated well.

“Fifth place or better.  I can do that.”

“You will do that, Paperina.”  He squeezed your hand one last time before letting go.  “I’ll be there to cheer you on.”

“Oh, Copia no.  You don’t have to do that.”

“I actually do, Primo is making me.  Ai!”  He grunted when your fist connected with his shoulder, laughing and grabbing your hand when you tried to do it again.  His mustache tickled the back of it when he dropped a kiss there.  Copia grinned as he dropped your hand, reaching out to tap the tip of your nose.  “Besides, there’s something important I have to see.”

“Yeah?  What’s that?”

He moved back a few steps and winked, the grin still fixed on his face.

“Those feathers in action.”

To say you were worried was an understatement.

You just needed to get above fifth, that’s all.  Fifth or higher and you had a chance just like Copia had said, just like you had been repeating in your head all morning.  Hardly anyone came back from a lower place than that after the short program.  It’s not that you would give up if you got below fifth, but getting a medal at these games would be near impossible at that point.  So.  Fifth or better.  

Terzo had managed third, a fact that he had been crowing about since it happened.  The men had skated that morning and while you should have been practicing you ignored your coach’s recommendation and came to watch Terzo perform.  Omega and Secondo both had games that morning so it had been just you and Primo.  The eldest brother had probably been the loudest out of anyone else in the crowd as Terzo worked his ass off skating to his music.

To the surprise of no one Terzo had chosen an ABBA song.

“Paperina, you look nervous.”

At Copia’s voice you jumped, nearly losing your balance.  He reached out and grabbed your hands, not letting go until you were steady again on your feet.  You quickly looked around to see if anyone had seen you but thankfully everyone was busy either talking to the skater that had just performed or cleaning the rink.  When you looked back at Copia he was grinning.

“What are you doing here?”

“I told you I was going to come.”

“Yes but you should be in the stands, not back here.”  He shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal, reaching out and fingering one of the feathers at your waist.  You had another quick look around, wincing when you saw your coach glaring at you.  “Quit that.”

He hissed when you slapped his hand away from your costume and shoved his hands into his pockets.  A reporter sidled closer and you sighed.  It would have been easy to spot Copia even if he wasn’t wearing a bright green, white and red tracksuit that didn’t say Italy all over it.  You wondered what story the reporter would come up with.

“Remember, fifth or higher.”  

“Yes, yes I know.”

“But first is better, yeah?”  He brought a hand up to his neck and pulled his medal out from yesterday, the gold catching on all the bright lights in the arena.  “You see?  Gold.”

“It’s not actually gold you moron.”  The reporter was definitely interested now and you noticed another one whose interest had been piqued.  “Put that thing away.”

“Fine, fine.  You’ll be begging to see it later though.”  

“I will scratch your eyes out if you wink at me again.”

“You’re very aggressive, Paperina.  Is it the nerves?”  He reached out and grabbed one of your hands, rubbing his thumb back and forth along the back.  “What do you have to be nervous about?  You’re going to do amazing.”

You stopped glaring at the reporters and met Copia’s eyes.  His gaze was steady as he watched you, his thumb still rubbing your hand.  He was wearing gloves like usual, these ones black leather and the material was warm against your cold skin.  You took a deep breath and straightened your shoulders.

“I’m not nervous.”  He smiled and gave your hand a squeeze before letting go.  “I can do this.”

“I know you can.”  

You nodded, trying to give him a confident smile and hoping you pulled it off.  When you glanced back out over the ice it was empty and the announcers were gearing up for your routine.  Your coach popped up in the corner of your eye and took a deep breath trying to clear your head.  This was it.  You hadn’t spent years preparing for this to blow it at the last moment.  Before you headed over to your coach you looked back at Copia and tried to give him a confident smile.

“Wish me luck.”

“I would say ‘break a leg’ but that would be very bad, don’t do that.”  He just laughed when you glared at him.  Copia took a quick look around before stepping forward so no one else would hear him.  “I want to celebrate with you later, Paperina.  Don’t mess it up.”

You sighed when you heard a few cameras click, knowing they caught the intimate moment.  Copia didn’t seem to care, turning to give the photographers a smile before looking back at you.  The announcers called your name and your coach came up to urge you toward the rink.  With one last look at Copia you moved away and took a deep steadying breath.

Messing up wasn’t an option, you wanted to celebrate with him too.

You ended up third.

When the music had ended and you stood out there in your final position you had been so overcome with emotion.  So much hard work, so many long hours and now it was finally over with.  Well, at least the short program was.  You’d be back out there for the long skate in a few days.  That was something to worry about later though, preferably tomorrow.  Tonight you planned on celebrating and pushing all your other worries out of your mind.

You also planned on burning this damn costume too.

As flowers and stuffed animals rained down on the ice you eagerly skated off and were quickly whisked away by your coach.  Then came the usual song and dance of watching the judges post your scores, more screaming and crying and finally giving a few interviews to the various reporters milling about.  By the time you were done with it all the last skater had competed and you had gotten the confirmation about your third place finish.  The sense of relief you felt followed you all the way to the locker room where you quickly threw your track suit over your costume, grabbed your things and headed out.

Right as you were messing with your phone to try and see where Terzo had gone off to a pair of strong arms wrapped around you from behind and you were lifted off the ground.

“Amica mia!  You did it!”  You let Terzo swing you around a bit before spinning in his arms and hugging him back.  “I told you!”

Your emotions were getting the best of you so you just clung to your friend a little tighter for a moment, feeling so thankful for him.  You didn’t let go until a throat cleared nearby and when you looked to who had made the noise you were met with Copia’s pleased smile.

“Well done Paperina.”  You smiled back, fighting the urge to run into his arms.  Your adrenaline was still high from performing and it felt like electricity was sparking along your skin.  With Copia’s eyes on you the feeling was even stronger.  “I knew you could do it.”

“Thank you Copia.”  When he pulled an arm from behind his back you felt your cheeks pink at the rose he held in his hand.  You pulled away from Terzo and shyly walked over to take it from Copia’s fingers, your own twitching a bit when they made contact with his warm gloves.  “Did you buy this or pick it up off the rink?”

“I stole it from that idiot that got first.”  He grinned when you rolled your eyes.  “Should’ve been you, Paperina.”

“What did you call her?”  Copia shot his brother a glare and you turned around to look at Terzo.  “Paperina?”

“Zitto, Terzo!”

“Wait, what’s going on?”  You looked from brother to brother, Terzo looked on the verge of laughter while Copia just continued to glare at him.  “It’s just because of my costume, Terzo.  Swan Lake.”

“SÍ, but Paperina doesn’t me–hey, what the fuck?!”  Terzo snarled at Copia after being hit in the head with the stuffed bear.  “She’ll find out eventually!”

“Find out what?”  When neither brother said anything you growled and walked over to your things.  “Whatever, I’m going back to my room.”

“No, wait!”  You stopped when Terzo called out, raising an eyebrow when he gave you a sheepish look.  “I was actually hoping to have the room to myself tonight.”

“Oh come on!  Where am I supposed to sleep then?”

Both you and Terzo turned to stare at Copia when he cleared his throat.  

“You can stay with me, Paperina.”  There was that fluttering again, your heart feeling like it was skipping a beat or two.  He wandered over to where the bear had landed and then came to exchange it for your gear bag.  “Didn’t I say we’d be celebrating?”

Copia’s mouth was latched onto your neck before the door to his room was closed.

“No, no–ah!  No marks.  Not where people can see them.”  

He pulled away with a growl, capturing your mouth again instead.  As his tongue roughly toyed with yours he brought a hand to your thigh and lifted your leg up to wrap around his waist.  It gave him enough room to start grinding against you, his sweatpants doing little to hide his hard cock.  You whimpered when it pressed between your legs, the thin material of your tights doing little to block yourself from him.

“I could probably sink into you right now, couldn’t I?”  You nodded weakly, thunking your head back against the door when he ground even harder against you.  “I could rip these tights open and have you screaming my name.”

“Yes!  Copia please.”  

You could see him smirking through your half lidded eyes, the intense pleasure of him rubbing against your cunt making it hard to keep them open.  His hands started fiddling with your skirt, the feathers rustling as he pushed it higher up your stomach.  

“Will you be wearing this again?”

“What?”  You blinked at his question, not sure what he was getting at.  “What do you mean?”

“I’m about to rip it off of you, is that ok Paperina?”  He was barely done with his question before you were vigorously nodding your head.  With a growl he had his hands at the top of your tights and the room filled with the sound of ripping fabric.  You shivered when the cool air hit your exposed flesh, moaning when he dragged a bare finger through your cunt.  “Cazzo, so wet for me already.”

He added a second finger, rubbing them up and down between your lips.  The slick sounds of them moving seemed so loud you were worried that anyone walking down the hallway would hear it.  When they teased at your entrance you let out a loud gasp, a loud bang echoing around you when your head fell back against the door again.

People would definitely have heard that.

“You are so responsive, so beautiful.”  The tips of his fingers pushed into you slightly before pulling out.  He repeated the motion over and over again, going deeper each time.  “I can’t wait to fuck you with my cock.”

“Then do it.  I want it.”

Copia growled and slammed his mouth against yours right as he pushed his fingers in as far as they’d go.  You moaned into his mouth, thankful that it muffled you at least a little bit.  His fingers worked in and out of you hard and fast as he kissed you heatedly.  You wrapped your arms tight around his neck, pushing up on your toes a bit so the angle of his thrusting fingers was a little better.  He started rubbing them harder against your inner walls, catching at the spot inside of you that had you pulling away from his mouth and nearly wailing in pleasure.

“Just this tonight, we still have a few events left after all.”  He kissed you again, this time the kiss a little softer but no less passionate.  As his fingers on one hand continued to fuck you he brought his other hand close and started rubbing his thumb against your clit.  “It will be worth the wait.”

“It bet–oh, oh it better be.”

“Trust me, Paperina.  I’ll make sure it is.” 

You couldn’t do anything else but nod, the pleasure becoming nearly unbearable as you reached your peak.  He knew exactly how to work you, exactly when to apply more pressure and where.  Your fingers buried themselves in his hair as your climax hit, your mouth open in a mostly silent cry against his shoulder.  It took a few moments for you to come back to yourself and when you did it was to Copia making quiet moaning sounds.

When you blinked your eyes open you looked down to see his hand flying over his cock.  The sight of it had more little thrills of pleasure rippling through you.  He whispered your name and you looked back up at his face, meeting his odd eyes.  You slipped a hand off his shoulder and moved it down to his cock, wrapping your fingers around the head as he continued to pump his shaft.  His moans became louder as you both worked him over until his cock twitched between you, his hot cum shooting out the tip.

Copia cursed quietly in Italian as you stroked him through it, making sure every last drop left him.  It had dripped onto his pants and you noticed streaks across the feathers of your costume.  You had to bite your lip to keep from laughing at the sight, instead moving to press a deep kiss into Copia’s lips.  He hummed happily into your mouth as you tangled your tongue with his briefly before pulling away, his lips curled up in a familiar smug smile.  You glanced down at yourself and his eyes followed, looking over the ripped tights and the cum stained feathers.  When he let out a wistful sigh you put a finger on his chin to tip his head back up.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, Paperina.”  He shrugged and then leaned forward to kiss the tip of your nose.  “I’m just going to miss this costume.”

Part Two Coming Soon! (leave me a comment if you'd like to be tagged 💙)

I wrote a little ficlet describing Terzo and Omega's meeting as well: Shooting His Shot

A/N: Did I write this because I became obsessed with the thought of Copia's thick thighs in a tight speed skating outfit? Yes, obviously. I hope you enjoyed it! Let me know if you'd like to see more from this little universe💙

My Masterlist ~ My Archive of our Own ~ My Ko-Fi Tip Jar

[ravenart357]

Title: The Cardinal’s Promotion Day

After almost five months and at least 150 hours later, I have finally finished this oil painting of Ghost based off of “The Execution of Lady Jane Grey” by Paul Delaroche. This has been such a challenge and adventure for me and I am beyond thrilled for everyone who has followed this through with me. You all are the best and I hope Tobias is able to see this one day. Thank you all!!

[thomas--bombadil]

A female cardinal on a very snowy spring morning.

[brooklynbridgebirds]

Female Northern Cardinal Brooklyn Bridge Park, Pier 3

[earthry]

Hello! Humbly requesting a HC of reader sending the Papa’s nudes.

Thank you for the request! I hope you don't mind that these aren't very detailed or as smutty as probably expected

tw: tiny bit spicy, riling the papas up

Primo

Peepaw’s still got it going on.

Will call you immediately and huskily ask you if you’re alone. When you tell him you are, he’ll instruct you step by step to touch yourself.

Turns into phone sex and you learn just how hot it is to hear him dominant and desperate at the same time.

When you’re both spent, he’ll come find you afterwards so he can give you proper aftercare and a very appreciative thank you for the nudes.

In the moment he can be pretty intense but afterwards he’s a teddy bear.

Secondo

Screenshots it and puts it as his Home Screen.

Will send you very detailed dirty talk about what he wants and will do to you the next time you’re both alone.

More affected by the nude then he lets on— will end up getting off to it and then sending you a photo of his own, telling you that you’d better take responsibility.

Terzo

Sends nudes back and fuck are they good. He knows the perfect poses and angles to really show himself off.

You’re the one who ends up flustered instead.

You end up finding him and jumping his bones and the two of you make love while you giggle and laugh because sex is supposed to be fun.

Afterwards he’ll give you tips and tricks on how to take better nudes because he’s a homie.

Copia

Almost has a heart attack and then almost drops his phone and then because he almost drops his phone, almost has a second heart attack.

Is not used to getting nudes and holy fucking shit you’re so hot fuck fuck— he needs like a solid ten minutes to get his brain functioning again.

You’re a little worried when the message reads as ‘✅ read’ but you don’t get a response. You’re about to apologize for sending the picture when he finally messaged you back and it’s just him asking where you are right now.

Hunts you down like a predator after he’s collected himself— he’s practically insatiable. You get a very thorough introduction to how he handles being sent nudes and you don’t regret it one bit.