#how is malakai fumbling THIS.

[snixx]

no thoughts just amerie with space buns amerie with space buns amerie with space buns amerie with space buns amerie with space buns amerie with space buns amerie with space buns amerie with space buns amerie with space buns amerie with space buns amerie with space buns amerie with space buns amerie with space buns amerie with space buns amerie with space buns amerie with space buns amerie with space buns amerie with space buns

[zalrb]

yeah this season of heartbreak high was not it. i get exhausted w any storyline thats like think of how MEN suffer under patriarchy!!!!! esp when they introduced spider’s mom. i feel like it would’ve worked better if they stayed at the new male teacher grooming high school kids into alt right movements. missy was way too hot and cool for spider. and the rowan amerie thing was so out of left field. and there were also just moments that bothered me like when that purity girl started spewing the worst kind of well what was she doing there victim blaming and we all just moved on like it was nothing or when malakai had a fight w amerie and joined the cumlords (i just don’t think he would do that). and the way they bring the threesome up casually like it was malakai exploring his sexuality in normal circumstances and not him being taken advantage of after a horribly traumatizing moment. they couldn’t have changed the way they fucked up in s1 but this season they could’ve at least given malakai more space to work through it and actually hold harper accountable. like AT LEAST the missy malakai friendship shouldve been given much more space

Ok right? I kept waiting for there to be an exploration of victim blaming and internalized misogyny and there wasn’t even an acknowledgement?? Just a “she’s a hypocrite because she’s masturbating” reveal? Really?

Like it had the bones to be a season that showcases/explores how with even though there are more progressive spaces for different genders and sexualities and BIPOC etc. there are still extreme spaces/thought processes antithetical to them like the gym teacher alt right group and the purity group that infiltrated SLTs but instead none of that went anywhere and it instead became a season about Rowan being the kind of character you find in Riverdale?

And the way they consistently fumble Malakai’s storyline will always piss me off. They ignore the trauma of the police brutality storyline then even him discovering/exploring his sexuality really becomes about him realizing he’s in love with Amerie? Why? And as you mentioned him exploring his sexuality should not have been entwined with that completely fucked up threesome.

Harper dropping the case deserved more room and her needing to find healthy ways to process her trauma should’ve been a storyline, not just a conversation.

The whole Spider storyline just had me like I don’t care. Yes, yes, the white dick male character has it “hard” too. That’s never been done before.

[llyncooljones]

beyond our bubble - rowaelin month day twenty-eight.

ao3 || masterlist || rowaelin month '21 masterlist

prompt: bookstore au

word count: 1159

trigger warnings: language, mentions of sex stuff.

tag list: @live-the-fangirl-life @rowaelinismyotp @rowanaelin @fireheartwhitethorn4ever @themoonthestarsthesuriel

the bookstore, late morning.

The bookstore has always been more of a home to Aelin than her house has been. Always been more homelike than the crumbling staircase, the peeling wallpaper, the cigarette smoke infested group home she was placed in when she was five and her parents died.

So many nights and so many days had been spent crawling around the tomes and the shelves and the legs of customers as a child, so many of them filled with sitting on the fluffy, wingback armchair reading a book she didn’t put down until she finished.

That’s essentially her childhood to an insane level of accuracy.

By the time she was ten, she was stacking the shelves, and unpacking orders, and helping to organize the stock room and the break room.

By twelve, she was helping customers find their books, helping them settle on the right genre of book for their needs. She was known as the book whisperer, because if you wanted a book: little, twelve-year-old Aelin had the perfect one for you.

When she was fourteen, she was checking people out, manning the till, and being left alone in the shop while the owners, Emrys and Malakai, went to grab lunch to pick their adoptive sin up from school, Luca.

Everything changed when she was fifteen, it was half-past three in the afternoon, and she was just clocking in for her shift after Emrys and Malakai had left to grab little Luca from his nursery or playgroup. The door opened, the brass bell above ringing the same tune as always, the tune that would still be etched into her mind when she died.

A gust of wind, cooler than it should be for the hot summer day, blew into the store followed by the guy of all Aelin’s dreams.

Tall, tall enough that he towers over her five feet and seven inches, a rarity she curses. His is cut into the infamous and albeit timeless style of ‘short back and sides and long/longer on top’. How Aelin loves the classics, maybe it’s why she wears red lipstick.

His skin was the kind of tan that couldn’t be anything other than natural, His eyes were almond-shaped, framed with rows of thick, light brown eyelashes. Lashes only a few shades darker than the eyebrows that shadow his eyes.

Gods, his eyes.

The dark green of ancient forests and fresh sea glass, the polished kind of emeralds and the finest of silk. She could probably see herself in their reflection, you know, if she could ever work up the courage to go and talk to him.

His eyes flicked down each row before he finally stops at the end of the romance section.

The romance section that isn’t cute and fluffy and contemporary. The romance section has little 18+ stickers on the covers, or have trigger warnings within the first ten pages.

The dark, smutty romance section.

Oh fuck.

Aelin couldn’t handle him before: when she thought he was some graphic novel fanatic, who loved to rave about cartoons and drawings. Now though, he likes the other kind of graphic novel and how the fuck is she supposed to deal with that.

Explain it to her.

He picked a few books, four at most and held them loosely in his arms. As if to flaunt them off, as if a sixteen-year-old boy has enough confidence to go around reading shit like what he has in his hands right now.

The checkout process had been awkward and bumbling and fumbling, on her behalf not his, and had ended in blushing cheeks for her and a phone number in hand and a prideful little smirk and a lipstick stain on his cheek for him.

She almost told him he would be toting the evidence of their encounter with him about town, but then decided it was best that the rest of her teenage peers knew he was taken, in some capacity at least.

But that was then, that was years ago.

Now she stands in the very same bookstore, with the very same boy with the very same smiles on their lips. Wide and happy and little bit embarrassed. It wasn’t like they wanted to be found by Luca while they were taking a little kissing break from the selling and restocking and reshelving of books.

Rubbing her hand across her cheeks, Aelin takes in the heat that colours her cheeks, noticing the way Rowan runs his thumb over his lips, in a sad attempt to remove the red lipstick smeared over them.

She stills has that classic thing going, all right?

The now seventeen-year-old stares the two of them down. He stares Aelin down at least, taller than her at five foot eleven but still very much shorter than her husband.

“Luca, please. We’re thirty-one each, okay? We’ve got three kids already. That means we’ve done more than kiss between the bookshelves at least three times, okay. I’m, not sure why you’re blushing, kid, you’ve been reading smut since you were fourteen. This is hardly the height of what you’ve read.” Rowan’s voice is threaded with a large amount of amusement, laughter slipping through the cracks of his stern and educational front.

“Uncle Rowan! No, you need to stop. You and Auntie, you cannot put that thought in my head. Rude. Cruel. Sacrilegious! And, how do you know I’ve been reading smut since I was fourteen? What gave me away, I made sure the covers were discreet if I was reading them in public?” His voice is deeper than Aelin ever imagined it would go, and she knows in her heart that Luca’ll be a heartbreaker once he moves on from his homebody phase.

What a drag on their sex life at the bookstore he has been.

“Luke, I promise you. You’ve been discreet, I wouldn’t know if I didn’t know, you know? But you read these books as if I wasn’t reading them at your age as well. With your aunt, sometimes. I was the original male smut reader of the month here. You can’t beat that one, kiddo.” The pride in Rowan’s voice has a funny effect on Aelin.

The kind of effect that has her wondering if four kids under the age of five is practical, or even manageable. Maybe she’ll make it so, just so she can get foot rubs and shit.

She thinks this, knowing foot rubs happen in the Whitehorn-Galanthynius bedroom at least once a week regardless of her status as either pregnant or not.

“Uncle Rowan, you need to stop with the sexual innuendo. One day you’re gonna corrupt your kids, and it won’t be pretty when they start laughing at your jokes instead of looking puzzled. I wish you luck on that.”

The stricken look on Rowan’s face has Aelin walking away with Luca, laughing under breath and knowing they’d four kids under five very soon if he kept up his game.

[alex-writes-things]

"I dont want to do this," I say softly. He grits his teeth, and I see a steely glint in his eyes.

"You have to. Its not for you, it's for the revolution. Don't you understand? You don't have time-" he pauses, and runs a hand through his hair- "to be selfish!"

"Malakai. Malakai, I thought you understood."

"I thought you understood! You have to look at the world! Don't you see how broken it is? You don't get it," he shouts, and I stumble back a little, my heel slipping in the wet grass. His hand fumbles at his dagger and he slides it out of its sheath, the sound i once thought satisfying sending a shiver down my spine. My hair is plastered to my face.

"Please, no."

I watch as he steps forward. There's nobody for miles. "Begging? Really? That's not really your style."

"What do you know of my style?" I retort, clenching my fists.

He takes a step forward. "They're making you weak, you have to grow stronger!"

A long silence.

"What if I don't want to be strong? What if I want to be safe?"

"War leaves no time for safety," he says finally, and turns his back to me. Sheets of rain fall between us and his silhouette fades to nothing.

-Alexis, from my Untitled WIP

[kitty-bandit]

Just Friends

Rating: E Fandom: Original Setting Pairing: Orha x Akihiko (OCs owned by @kandasboi​) Tags: Drama™; Romance; Dealing with an Ex; A/B/O Dynamics(ish); Heat Sex; Sex; Oral Sex; Anal Sex; Anal Fingering; Multiple Orgasms; Barebacking

I’m back again, and this time with a commission for @kandasboi! The request was for his OCs. If you want to read the other two fics I’ve written for him involving these OCs, you can find them here and here.

If you’d like to commission me, check out my commission info!

Keep walking. Don’t turn around—

Orha kept his gaze forward, looking straight ahead as he quickened his pace in the hope that Malakai would give up pursuit. He hunched his shoulders, holding his books tight to his chest and clenching his jaw as he speed-walked through campus. But that subtle hint, and his not-so-subtle body language, didn’t dissuade his ex from taking chase. Hurried footsteps echoed behind him and he heard Malakai call his name—louder this time—as he closed the distance between them. Finally, a strong hand gripped his shoulder and yanked him to a stop before he could cross the street.  

“Didn’t you hear me? I was calling you for half a block.” 

Out of breath, Orha turned and looked up at Malakai’s handsome face. He hated that he still thought of him as handsome, even after all the shit he had put him through. But it was hard not to see his beauty—that strong, muscled body and pretty face framed with the softest brown and gray ombre hair. He wished Malakai looked as ugly on the outside as he did inside, that the world would work like that sometimes. It would make it easier to see people for who they really were—before you gave them the chance to hurt you. 

“What do you want?” Orha refused to meet his brown eyes, instead staring at the courtyard and watching a squirrel forage under a tree. His heart refused to calm itself, beating a mile a minute as he waited for Malakai to speak his peace. 

Malakai rummaged through his messenger bag and pulled out a thickly bound book. “Here, I found this and I thought you’d like it.” 

He shoved the book into Orha’s arms, leaving Orha scrambling to keep from dropping his other books in the process. Orha bit his lip to keep from snapping, but couldn’t stifle an exasperated sigh. After rearranging the books in his arms, he looked down at the one Malakai had given him. It was a history book, and one he’d wanted for a while. He hadn’t purchased it because of the price, though. And Malakai just...

Orha shook his head and met Malakai’s gaze. “Why are you giving this to me?”

“What?” he asked, feigning innocence. He had to be faking it—Malakai wasn’t that dumb. Orha had learned how manipulative he could be, and had paid the price for it. “I saw it in the bookstore yesterday. Are you saying you don’t want it?”

“No, I—” Orha sighed and looked back down at the book. “It’s expensive.” 

“You know I can afford it.” 

“That doesn’t matter—we’re not together. You shouldn’t buy me things anymore.” 

Malakai shrugged, looking more at ease than he had the right to be—especially with Orha’s nerves knotted up like rope. “Consider it a gift from a friend, then.” 

Orha let out a stunted laugh as he stared down at the book cover. Friends. Friends didn’t harass you or spread rumors about you or destroy your property just for fun. They weren’t friends and, as far as Orha was concerned, they never would be. 

He still didn’t understand what Malakai was up to. Not even a month ago he was bullying Orha every time they encountered each other—on campus and off. But this change, the complete turn around, struck him as more than a little off. Malakai had been following Orha around, finding excuses to show up at places he knew he would be. He’d given Orha gifts. They were small at first, but the price and sizes grew exponentially. This book was the most expensive yet. Last time he’d priced it, it’d been almost $200. Way over his budget. And Malakai simply threw his money away to buy it for Orha? Something didn’t add up.

What the hell was Malakai planning? What angle was he working? What purpose did being nice to him serve? The more he approached him, the less Orha trusted him, but he was too scared to outright reject his advances. The last thing he wanted was for Malakai to bully him again. He’d already suffered enough from that.

“Fine,” Orha replied, tucking the book to his chest with the others. “Thanks, I guess.”

“So,” Malakai began, taking a step closer and pinching a lock of Orha’s hair between his fingers. “There’s a party tonight at my place. You should come.”

Too close. Orha flinched and pulled away—out of reach from Malakai’s greedy grasp. His stomach twisted in a sick knot. “Sorry, I’m busy tonight.” No way in hell would he be caught dead at Malakai’s house. He turned and headed back down the sidewalk.

His heart dropped in his stomach as heard footsteps behind him.

“Are you busy with something? Or should I say someone?” Malakai asked as he matched Orha’s pace.

“What are you talking about?” he asked back, jaw set tight as he clutched his books to his chest.

“You’ve been hanging around that guy a lot. Akihiko.”

Orha’s back stiffened and his pointed ears flicked backwards, flattening against his head. He shot a glare Malakai’s direction, bristling. “What’s it to you?” The words were harsher than he’d wanted, but he couldn’t help it. Akihiko was a sensitive subject, and Orha didn’t like hearing his name on Malakai’s tongue.

“Just curious.” Malakai watched Orha, unabashedly staring, while Orha quickened his pace. “Haven’t seen you with anyone else lately.”

It was too much—too much to handle all at once. “I gotta go.” He cut across the street, a few cars slamming their breaks and cursing him out as he dashed in front of them. But the shortcut worked and Malakai didn’t bother crossing traffic to follow after him. He sighed in relief, but the anxious energy still hummed along his skin like electricity. He wanted to go home and relax.

As he left campus and crossed into the residential area on the outskirts of the university, a buzzing in his pocket distracted him from his thoughts. Pulling out his phone, his dark blue eyes widened at the name on the screen—Akihiko.

His pace slowed as he unlocked the screen and read over the text.

Aki—Dinner tonight?

It was so casual, the way he asked; subtly comfortable in a way that Orha wished he could say was mutual. The realization struck him, that he had been spending more time with Akihiko than he’d thought, if he could message Orha so easily. It meant that Malakai had been right in his observations, as much as he despised that knowledge.

Still. Still. It didn’t mean anything. In spite of Orha’s original concerns, Akihiko was kind to him. Too kind, really. More kind that he deserved. Like a real boyfriend.

But they weren’t boyfriends. Not really. Or at least, they’d never labeled it. They simply spent time together—some of it platonic, some of it intimate. Whatever they had, it worked, and Orha didn’t dare disturb the balance they’d found in each other. If it was one thing he knew for sure, asking too much in a relationship doomed it to fail. For once, he’d like it to work out, if only for a little longer.

Orha typed back, fingers quick on the screen.

Orha—Pass tonight. Not feeling well.

Little dots popped up on the screen, and Orha waited for Akihiko’s message as he walked.

Aki—Okay. Let me know if you change your mind.

As much as dinner with Akihiko sounded great, Orha didn’t think he could handle it. Not tonight, at least. He’d been feeling strange all day and the run-in with Malakai knocked him off his feet. What he needed was a nap—a nice long nap so he could forget Malakai and Akihiko and his stupid, turbulent emotions. Besides, he needed rest. The last thing he wanted was to catch a cold because he was stressed.

Orha shoved the phone back into his pants and sighed. Tomorrow. He would worry about it all tomorrow. He just needed to get home tonight and rest. 

As that thought entered his mind, he felt the plink of a raindrop on his cheek. Looking up, he watched the sky turn dark, clouds churning in the sky with ill intent. Another drop hit his face—and another and another. 

“Shit,” he grumbled, picking up the pace. Only a few blocks remained until he was home, but before he could curse himself out for forgetting an umbrella, the sky opened up and the deluge hit. 

Tucking his books close to his chest to protect them from the rain, Orha broke out into a sprint. As he ran, water collected into puddles on the sidewalk and splashed against his legs with each step. He couldn’t escape the rain—it permeated everything as it poured from the sky in violent sheets. With his heart pounding in his chest, he hurried down the street in hopes of keeping his books dry in the downpour. As he neared the end of the block, he spotted his house and darted to the door, fumbling with his keys to get indoors. 

After bolting inside and slamming the door shut behind him, Orha sighed in relief. Water dripped down his face, soaking his dark hair and leaving drenched clothes stuck to wet skin. He set his books down on the coffee table in the living room. They weren’t as waterlogged as he’d feared—just a bit of wetness along the top edges. They would dry easy enough. 

As he spread them out on the table, his eyes landed on the history book Malakai had given him and his stomach clenched unpleasantly. He might have wanted the book, but he didn’t want it if it came from his ex. Maybe he could sell it online or something. It would be better than keeping it around and reminding him of what had been.

Unable to bear looking at the book any longer, Orha trudged to his bedroom, water dripping everywhere. He would clean up later, but for now, he wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep. Stripping out of his sopping wet clothes, Orha dropped each item to the floor without care. Once he was down to his boxers, he slipped into bed and covered himself with the blankets. His skin was clammy and cold from the sudden shower, but the softness of his sheets and pillows drained the tension from his body. Even with wet hair, he felt better.

Before he could muse any longer on why he was so tired and drained, he drifted off to blissful unconsciousness. 

xXxXxXx

Bam! Bam! Bam! 

Orha’s nose twitched. He groaned pulling the blankets over his head to block the noise. He didn’t want to get up—not yet. His body ached and burned, as if he’d ran a marathon and all he wanted to do was keep sleeping. 

Bam! Bam!

“Ugh.” Orha rolled to his back, eyes cracking open to stare up at the ceiling. He had no idea how long he’d been asleep, but the rain hadn’t stopped and it was dark. 

Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam!

A frown spread over his lips, tugging at the corners, and this time, he let out an angry snarl. Who the hell was banging on his door? “Just go away,” he growled, too weak for whoever was at the door to hear. He still felt off—not quite right inside—and the constant pounding was giving him a headache. The noise continued, and Orha huffed. “Fine, asshole! I’m coming!” Throwing back the blankets, he ambled to his feet—and fell to the floor. 

With a moan more wanton than pained, he squeezed his eyes shut and caught his breath. He was hard—so painfully hard. The damned knocking had been so annoying he’d completely missed it. But after failing to stand and nearly falling flat on his face, he realized what had been off all day.

Orha had started his heat. 

“Shit. Fucking—ugh.” Cursing to himself as he crawled on the floor, he grabbed a pair of sweatpants and pulled them on in the hopes of hiding his massive erection. However, the fabric tented over the bulge, leaving his state even more obvious than before. He couldn’t hide it, or his other symptoms. With his fevered skin, blown pupils, and short breath, anyone would be able to see his state. Not to mention the smell…

The sudden and gnawing urge to jerk off over took him, but he shook his head and tried to focus. He had to get rid of whoever was on his porch first, then he could take to his...needs. 

Stumbling through the house and growling under his breath, he stomped towards the front door in nothing but a flimsy pair of sweatpants. The knocking persisted. Orha yanked the door open and took a breath to shout at the person who had rudely jolted him out of his peaceful sleep—

Only to deflate completely as he recognized the handsome countenance staring wide-eyed at him. “Aki?” he asked, confusion heavy in his voice. 

Akihiko looked like the proverbial deer in headlights. He stood there, one hand still raised to knock on the door and the other cupping a small plastic container to his side. “Oh—Sorry. Were you sleeping? I was starting to get worried because you didn’t answer your phone.”

“I—uh—” Orha felt his mouth go dry as he looked at Akihiko, his hair and clothes wet from the pouring rain. “I didn’t hear it.” His stomach clenched, a twang of hunger humming through his veins. He knew it was the heat talking, his brain addled with hormones, but in that moment, he’d never wanted Akihiko more. 

Akihiko tensed as Orha watched him, and handed him the container. “You said you weren’t feeling well, so I brought you some soup.” He took a long breath, and Orha knew he could smell the pheromones he gave off. There was no way to hide the scent, not now. “But I guess you’re not that kind of sick.” 

“Yeah...” Orha swallowed thickly, heart hammering in his chest like a drum. He barely made out Akihiko’s words, as if cotton were shoved in his ears. His boxers were too tight, and he felt hot and sticky all over. He wanted them off. He wanted everything off of him right then, but he couldn’t stop staring at Akihiko.

Weakly, he grabbed the container, the warm plastic pleasant against his palms. He leaned in closer to Akihiko, swaying on his feet as he breathed in his scent. He smelled like the fresh rain that hadn’t stopped for hours and sandalwood. Heady, earthy. Masculine and strong. Just what Orha was craving. Just what he needed. “Thanks,” he said as an afterthought, moving closer still. Reaching out, he touched Akihiko’s hip, fingers tucking into the waistband of his pants.

Realizing the situation they were in, Akihiko took a step back, but didn’t push Orha away. “Uh, maybe I should go? You seem a bit out of it and—”

“No—” Orha tightened his grip and pulled Akihiko back towards him, practically dragging him into the house. “Stay, please? I want you to stay.”

A torn look crossed Akihiko’s face as he hesitated. Resting his hand against over Orha’s as it clung to his hip, he let out a shuddered breath. Orha’s scent had to have been strong by then, and the longer Akihiko lingered, the harder it would be to leave. Even in his heat haze, Orha could see the thoughts and emotions passing over his face, struggling to decide on the best course of action.

But Orha saw him crumble, and his heart skipped a beat as their eyes met. Akihiko raised his free hand to cup the side of his face. His palm felt so cool in comparison to his heated, flushed skin. “…Are you sure? You’re not just saying this because you’re in heat and—”

“I’m sure,” Orha interrupted, pulling him closer. “I don’t want to be alone tonight—I can’t.” Without further elaborations, he leaned in and captured Akihiko’s lips in an excited kiss, devouring his mouth with vigor.

Moaning into the kiss, Akihiko wrapped his arms around his waist and held him close. He tightened his grip on Orha as his tongue slipped into his mouth. It only lasted a few seconds, that hungry, mutual desire, before he released Orha’s lips. “Okay. Okay, I’ll stay,” he whispered back, his lips brushing against Orha’s as he spoke.

Orha whined, a noise he loathed to make at any other time. But it was his heat—he allowed himself to indulge in the… neediness of it all. Besides, he doubted Akihiko minded. If the stiffness pressing into Orha’s hip was any indication, Akihiko liked it a little too much.

Akihiko kicked the door shut behind him and kissed Orha again, one hand pressed against his jaw to tip his chin back, as if he were drinking down his kisses like a fine wine. Orha’s grip on the container of soup fumbled, but he curled it closer to his body to steady it. A sweet, desperate moan rumbled in his chest and he went limp in Akihiko’s arms.

“Aki, please,” Orha mumbled against his lips. He dug his fingers harder into the hem of Akihiko’s pants and rutted sloppily against his hip.

“Yes, yes—of course.” He grabbed the soup from Orha’s hand and set it on the coffee table, nearly knocking it over in the process. But it didn’t matter—not to either of them. All that mattered was getting to the bedroom as fast as possible. Everything else could wait.

They stumbled their way to the bedroom, tripping over each other’s feet while kissing and groping. Orha panted into Akihiko’s neck, his breath hot against his skin as he dug his nails into his back. As they reached the threshold, Akihiko lost his patience with their slow pace and picked Orha up—holding his thighs as he lifted him. Orha’s legs wrapped around his waist, ankles crossing at the small of his back. His head spun as Akihiko carried him and he buried his nose in his soft, white hair. Heats made him do strange things, but even with a clear head, he couldn’t get enough of Akihiko’s scent. He took a deep breath to pull the smell into his lungs, and tightened his grip.

His scent was divine, but before Orha could muse on that indulgence any longer, his back hit the mattress and forced him to expel the sweet smell. He didn’t have time to complain before Akihiko’s lips were on his once more, devouring his mouth like it was his last meal. Akihiko’s legs pressed between Orha’s, forcing them open to rut against his stiff erection. 

“Nnnn...” Orha’s hips rocked up against Akihiko’s, adding to the delightful friction and pressure between them as he sucked on his lover’s lower lip. It was too hot, hotter than only a few minutes ago, and sweat beaded along his neck and back, perspiration dotting his skin in between the raised hairs. He shivered, not from the temperature, but from the friction between them. His cock was so hard now, he felt like he might burst from the pressure. 

It was stupid to forget about his heat—Orha knew it. But he had little time to berate himself when Akihiko’s tongue was down his throat and his cock was nestled firmly against Orha’s own. He squirmed under the attention, desperate and hungry for more. 

A rough thrust knocked Orha back, their lips parting with a gasp. Moaning, he tugged at Akihiko’s shirt, weakly grasping at the fabric as he attempted to pull it off. “Too hot, Aki,” he mumbled, squirming under Akihiko’s heavier body. 

Sitting up, Akihiko raked a hand through his white hair, the messy strands tangling in his fingers. He gazed down at Orha with lust in his blue eyes, chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. Their eyes met for only a second, fire burning bright in them. Before Orha could speak again in the hope of hurrying him along, Akihiko grabbed the hem of his shirt and yanked it off. Orha watched in awe as he revealed his chest, sweat already glistening against his skin in the dim light of the bedroom. It was a sight he’d seen numerous times before, but it never failed to send a jolt of desire deep in the pit of his stomach. 

Akihiko’s fingers curled into the flimsy fabric of Orha’s sweatpants, tugging them and his underwear down his thighs in one quick motion. His stiff prick bounced against his stomach in anticipation and Orha moaned as Akihiko stripped him. Tossing his head back and forth against the pillows, he grabbed the loose sheets under him. The slightest contact against his cock was torture. The reddened head leaked precum like a faucet, dribbling over his stomach and smearing across his skin. He watched impatiently as his clothes were tossed to the floor and Akihiko rid himself of his own jeans. 

He needed Akihiko. He needed him bad.

As if hearing the silent plea, Akihiko leaned in and kissed Orha again, slipping his tongue into his mouth. Without the frustrating barrier of clothing between them, Orha felt everything. Akihiko’s muscles flexing, the sweat sticking to his skin, the heavy heat between his legs as it dug into Orha’s stomach. Now that—that was what he wanted most, what his body craved. 

Sliding a hand between them, Orha grabbed Akihiko’s cock. He growled low in the back of his throat, starving for the contact, and stroked him with greedy fingers as he rutted against his hip. The touch left Akihiko moaning in his mouth, hips arching into the contact, and Orha’s heart leapt in his throat. Akihiko was so sensitive to his touch... It made him want to please him more, to see what sweet noises he could pull from his rumbling chest. But before he put his plan to action, Akihiko broke their kiss. 

“Nnnn, Aki...?” he groaned out, dizzy from the heated kisses and his body’s soaring temperature. 

Akihiko didn’t answer. Instead, he kissed his way down Orha’s neck, each press of his lips leaving a heated trail on his skin. Orha panted as he stared up at the ceiling, squirming under the too-soft touch. “Aki—Aki, more… Please, more…” he begged, ears flattening against his head and tail flicking behind him as he struggled to find more friction between them.

Each nip and caress of his tongue on Orha’s skin left him writhing under Akihiko’s touch. He continued down his chest, stopping at Orha’s nipples and lovingly teasing them both with his lips and teeth. The gentle brush of his tongue over the hardened nubs sent shivers of desire up and down Orha’s spine. He couldn’t take much more of Akihiko’s teasing, not when he was this worked up.

Orha’s cock dripped precum between them, balls heavy and tight with need. As Akihiko ceased his torturous admiration of Orha’s nipples, he moved lower, kissing over his taut stomach. With one hand on his hip to keep Orha steady and the other planted on the mattress to keep himself upright, Akihiko settled between his legs, breath blowing across the red and sensitive skin of Orha’s dick.

“Aaa,” Orha whined, hips arching up in a desperate bid for contact. “Aki, please.”

“Hush,” Akihiko whispered, his voice hoarse and deep. But even as he chastised Orha’s enthusiasm, he smoothed his hand up his shaft, thumbing over the slit and smearing precum over his fingers. The touch did nothing to satiate the lust building in Orha’s guts, and he moaned like a wanton whore.

More. He wanted more. 

Akihiko watched as Orha writhed under him, hands balled into fists and nails digging into the sheets underneath. He continued to rub at his stiff length, fingers slowly moving along the shaft and spreading precum across hardened flesh, all while ignoring his own growing arousal between his legs. Orha panted and whined, staring back at him with half-lidded eyes. 

Smirking, Akihiko pressed his thumb over Orha’s leaking slit. “Be a good Kitten and I promise I’ll make you cum.” 

Orha could do nothing but moan and tremble under the teasing touch. 

Taking the lack of answer as submission, he leaned down and wrapped his lips around Orha’s cock. The wet heat of his mouth had Orha crying out, and he ripped a hand from the bedsheets, stuffing it in his mouth to keep the worst of his desperate noises from crawling out of his throat. Akihiko’s lips and tongue were talented things, as he’d learned in their dalliances over the past month or so.

Akihiko smoothed his lips over the shaft, dipping down until he buried his nose in the coarse hair at the base. Flattening his tongue along the underside, he hummed against the stiff flesh, gently sucking and bobbing his head. With his lips stretched around Orha’s needy girth, he grabbed his hips, keeping him pinned to the bed and unable to thrust up for more deliciously hot friction. 

“Aki...Aki, please...” he begged, head tossing against the pillows. The heat grew low in his belly, like the tightening of a rubber band. Further and further it stretched, taut and tense. Orha’s breath came in hitched gasps as the feeling grew in his guts. He wouldn’t make it much longer, not with Akihiko working him over with his perfect tongue and perfect lips. Sweat prickled along his neck and forehead, and the sounds of his own stilted breaths were muffled as the tension in his body grew, blood pounding in his ears. 

With a heady sigh, Akihiko pulled back, mouth sliding over Orha’s cock until only the tip remained snug between his lips. He flicked his tongue back and forth against the dripping slit, sucking the head like the sweetest lollipop.

Orha groaned, eyes rolling back in his head as his hips bucked—struggling for more contact, more heat. But Akihiko’s grip stayed strong, and he kept Orha pinned to the mattress. 

“I’m gonna—Aki, I’m gonna—” Orha rambled, back arching off the bed as that tension in his belly pulled tighter, tighter, tighter—and snapped. 

Orha came with a moan, fast and hard. It was almost painful as his body seized up in pleasure, tight and taut as he spilled himself down Akihiko’s willing throat. Cum and spit collected at the corners of his mouth as he eased Orha though his orgasm, cheeks flushed and lips nearly bruised for the effort. When Orha finished, spent dick twitching pathetically against his tongue, Akihiko finally let him free. 

Orha panted, blue eyes transfixed on the ceiling as he struggled to breathe, to feel anything but the numbing pleasure tingling along every inch of skin. His head spun from the endorphins swimming in his veins, leaving him drowsy. But as the effects of his orgasm faded, his skin refused to cool down. He felt hotter than before and just as hungry—ready to swap skin once again. His cock twitched excitedly against his stomach, slowly growing hard. He hated his heat, hated how desperate and pathetic it made him. But, if nothing else, it was nice to share it with someone he could trust. 

“That was good, Kitten.” Akihiko ran his hand along Orha’s jaw, fingertips brushing sweaty skin. He moved slowly, reaching for the nightstand where he knew Orha kept his more...intimate items. “Now, stay put and I’ll make you feel even better.”

“Yes,” Orha whispered, voice hoarse from moaning and panting. He struggled to swallow, throat parched and mouth dry, but did as Akihiko asked. Turning his head to the side, Orha watched him pull open the nightstand drawer and rifle through the contents. 

Orha kept a few little playthings in that drawer, as well as necessities. Condoms and lubricant were a must, but he also needed things to keep him occupied when no one else was around to help him through his heats. Dildos and vibrators of various sizes were tucked away for when he needed something to scratch that itch deep inside him. It was never as nice as the warmth of another person, but it would do in a pinch.

He wondered for a long moment if Akihiko would grab one to use on him—just to torture him a little longer. There were even a few cock rings and other devices they could use to drive each other mad with want before coming down from this heat addled state. But before he could voice his question, Akihiko closed the drawer, only taking a small bottle of lubricant. 

Orha’s excitement doubled as he watched Akihiko drizzle the lubricant over his fingers, the large digits glistening in the dim light of his bedroom. His breath caught in his throat, eyes following Akihiko’s movements as his fingers slipped down between his legs to open him with slow, purposeful prodding. He felt the pressure against his hole, slick and tight, then spread his legs wider with a low moan.

Grinning, Akihiko leaned down closer. He continued to work into Orha’s ass, the ring of muscle flexing around his finger as he slipped in deeper. As he reached knuckle-deep, he licked along the underside of Orha’s stirring cock, the sensitive flesh twitching with excitement.

One finger wasn’t enough to satiate Orha, but it was enough to remind him of what he really wanted—what he craved.  “Please…” he begged, hips rocking under Akihiko. “More, please…”

“You’re needy tonight, Kitten,” Akihiko replied, licking at the head of his cock again. Orha might have already cum once, but his body was ready again—prick stiff and leaking precum without shame.

“Yes,” Orha whined, unable to deny it with how soft and pliant his body became under Akihiko’s touch. The heat had drawn out his needy side, the side of him that craved attention and soft touches and intimacy. He might have tried to deny it on any other day, but it was still a part of him, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.

Akihiko hummed, breath blowing against Orha’s slick flesh. “I like it,” he mumbled, slipping a second finger into Orha’s ass.

“Aaa…” Orha’s back arched, toes curling as he was stretched wider. It still wasn’t enough, not nearly enough, but he would take what he could get.

A laugh bubbled up in Akihiko’s throat. Without a word, he slipped Orha’s cock back into his mouth and sucked him down to the hilt. The wet heat of his lips and tongue combined with the pressure of his fingers up Orha’s ass was almost enough to have him cumming a second time. Luckily, his first orgasm had dulled his need just enough to keep him riding the pleasure longer.

Two fingers slid in and out of Orha’s body, dragging along his flesh and pulling hungry noises from his lips. Akihiko scissored his fingers in Orha, moving them back and forth and in and out with slow, methodical movements. He stretched and worked his way deeper, all while lavishing Orha’s cock with attention. It was almost too much for Orha to bear. Almost.

Just as he was on the cusp of cumming a second time, Akihiko pulled his fingers out. The empty feeling dragged a whine from Orha’s throat, quiet and desperate. He closed his eyes and twisted against the bedsheets, still hard and hungry for attention. Akihiko lavished Orha’s needy prick with one last teasing suck before letting it drop from between his lips.

Chest heaving, Orha forced his eyes open and watched Akihiko as he smoothed lubricant over his stiff cock. It was then that he remembered Akihiko hadn’t touched himself in the whole time they’d been in bed—not once. His cock was red and hard, more than Orha’s own. The thought sent a shot of guilt through his chest, guilt and desire to even things out between them.

Akihiko lined himself up against Orha’s puckered and slick entrance, grabbing his hips and pulling their bodies closer together. But before he could breach the ring of muscle, Orha sprang into action.

He grabbed Akihiko’s shoulders pushing him to the side and straddling his hips as he pinned him to the bed. Akihiko grunted in surprise, eyes wide as he stared up at Orha. He’d been so pliant and submissive earlier that Akihiko hadn’t expected the sudden change in energy between them.

“Orha?” he asked, one hand sliding up his bare stomach, tentative and gentle in its touch.

“Let me,” Orha mumbled, still dizzy and disoriented from his heat. Sweat dribbled down his neck as he shifted his position, grabbing Akihiko’s dick in one hand and steadying himself on the bed with the other. “I want to—” As he spoke, he sank down onto Akihiko’s slick cock, breath catching in his throat and a moan spilling past his lips. He sat down slowly, taking him all in until he bottomed out, ass flush against Akihiko’s hips.

The pressure and the heat—it was all so much. Too much. Orha felt the delicious tightness building in his abdomen as Akihiko’s cock stretched him wide. He wanted to ride him until he couldn’t feel his legs anymore, until he was numb from the pleasure. But before he could move or voice his desires, Akihiko moaned and squeezed Orha’s hips, rutting up into him with a shallow thrust. Orha’s back stiffened as Akihiko’s cock brushed that sweet spot deep inside him. That tiny motion pushed him off the edge a second time. With a weak moan, he came again, painting his stomach white with hot seed. His hips rocked against Akihiko’s, riding out the pleasure until he finished. Panting and flushed, he looked down at Akihiko’s hungry eyes.

“God, that was so hot,” Akihiko mumbled, fingers squeezing Orha’s sides with a bruising insistence. He took a long, shuddering breath, eyes half-lidded, and smoothed his thumbs over Orha’s hips, as if to apologize for grabbing him too roughly. He slipped one hand across Orha’s stomach, humming to himself as he slid it through the mess he’d made. “Kitten, do you wanna rest? I can take over again if you—”

Orha didn’t wait for him to finish his sentence. Gathering what strength he had left in his limp limbs, he forced himself upright. Without hesitation, he pulled his hips up and thrust himself back down, impaling himself on Akihiko’s cock. The rough thrust left them both groaning in pleasure, backs arched and muscles tight. But Orha didn’t stop with just one thrust. He went again and again and again, bouncing up and down on Akihiko’s hips with abandon.

“Aki. Aki. Aki.” He repeated his name like a mantra, body oversensitive and yet still wanting more. His cock was half-hard already, a third orgasm quickly budding in his abdomen. Orha had never had a heat this intense before—never. Every brush of Akihiko against him, inside and out, turned his guts to goo.

Growling in excitement, Akihiko rocked his hips upward, timing it with Orha’s own thrusts to dive deep inside him with each pass. They worked in tandem, quickly building up the friction between them. Orha whimpered with each thrust, his body sore and sensitive from the torturous teasing Akihiko had already put him through. Having his prostate slammed into over and over again only left him hungrier for another orgasm.

Leaning forward, Orha planted his hands on Akihiko’s shoulders, fingers digging into his flesh as he rocked himself harder onto his cock. The slight change of angle made it so each thrust hit Orha’s sweet spot head on. He gasped with each intrusion, but only rutted faster and faster against Akihiko. His spent and sore dick strained against their stomachs, rubbing raw between them.

Akihiko moaned, nails leaving half-circle marks on Orha’s thighs. “Shit, I’m—I’m close. Orha, I’m so close—” His eyes screwed shut, head tipped back in pleasure as he pumped his hips faster, filling Orha deeper and deeper with each pass.

“Yes, Aki, yes—” Orha’s thrusts grew frantic, grinding himself onto Akihiko’s stiff rod with fervor. Hearing his partner’s excited cries pushed him to continue, past the point of caring how sore his body was or how much it would hurt tomorrow. He wanted this—he needed it. The feeling of Akihiko deep inside him, the pressure of his body opening up to accommodate another, the tension in his muscles, the furious beating of his heart, the violent tremors running along his limbs. He needed all of it.

Then, as Orha worked himself harder than before, he felt Akihiko stiffen under his body and a rush of heat fill his backside. Akihiko groaned and came into Orha’s ass without warning. The heat and the wet squelching sound as cum slipped down to mess the backs of Orha’s thighs was enough to send him into his third completion of the night. As he rocked down one last time, he came again—a weak stream of white spurting across his abdomen and mingling with the crusted cum already painting his skin. When the tremors subsided, he collapsed against Akihiko’s chest and began purring.

Akihiko wrapped his arms around Orha, holding him close as their bodies slowly cooled in the damp air of the bedroom. “You okay?” he asked, voice low and winded.

“Mm,” Orha hummed, unable to keep his eyes open. Contented purrs rumbled in his chest as he snuggled up to Akihiko. Cum messed his stomach and inner thighs, but he was too tired to do anything about it. He couldn’t even be bothered to uncouple himself from Akihiko, his lover’s slowly softening cock still deep inside him.

Akihiko continued to rub his back, fingers lazily drawing circles along sweaty skin. When his breaths evened out, he shifted to the side and rolled Orha onto the bed. Orha groaned in protest, grabbing his arm before he could completely part from him.

“Don’t go,” Orha whispered, clinging to him as best he could for how exhausted he was.

Hesitating, Akihiko brushed a hand over Orha’s flushed forehead. “I just thought you’d be more comfortable on the bed than on me.”

Orha couldn’t argue the point, but his heat-addled mind still demanded the closeness. He relaxed against the bedding, but didn’t let go of Akihiko’s arm. “Don’t go,” he repeated, softer this time.

Akihiko smiled and stretched out next to Orha. He pulled the dirty blankets over their sweaty bodies and wrapped an arm around Orha once more. “Okay. I won’t. I promise.”

The warmth and closeness drew Orha in like a moth to a flame. Resting his head against Akihiko’s chest, he continued to purr like contented kitten. As he slowly succumbed to sleep, heat satiated for the moment, he hoped Akihiko would keep his promise.

END

[poltergeist-in-the-water-heater]

Falling Into Place

So this is the first chapter of an original novel that I’m working on that I decided to post.

I welcome comments and constructive critisism.

Like, seriously

Please tell me what you think of it.

Warnings for blood, death, and execution.

He couldn’t sit still.

Nikai sighed, foot tapping incessantly on the wood floor, and his fingers brushing through the pages of the book in his lap.

He tried to focus on the book, but his eyes kept drifting to the bright sky outside.

On any other day Nikai would have already been lost in the inky words covering the worn pages, but today something inside him screamed. Something important was going to happen today, and Nikai knew he wanted to be there for it.

Tearing his eyes away from the window Nikai looked at the water clock tucked into the corner, a little before one o’clock, close enough that it would be acceptable for him to practice before his lessons. He knew that he’d be distracted no matter what he did, but at least this way he’d be moving.

Nikai strode down the stairs and through the halls giving polite nods in response to the bows and curtsies of the servants as he passed. He emerged into the bright light shining on the courtyard and grabbed a dulled training sword. His instructor would bring all of his real weapons, which were locked away in the armory, so this would do for the time being. The dull strip of metal was no replacement for Nikai’s beautifully crafted twin blades, but Nikai found it mattered little as he fell into the familiar motions.

His vision manifested a ghostly figure clutching an indistinct blade in front of Nikai’s eyes. He crouched into a ready stance, and the figure charged forward. The screaming restlessness that had been plaguing him faded to the back of his mind as Nikai crossed blades with his imaginary opponent.

Nikai had bested a dozen false enemies by the time his instructor made his appearance.

At first Nikai didn’t even notice the grizzled soldier’s entrance. It took Malakai grabbing the young man’s wrist and snapping his fingers in Nikai’s face to get his attention.

Nikai turned wide-eyed to his teacher, “Ah, Malakai...didn’t see you there.”

Malakai narrowed his eyes in a clear message to the young noble, ‘Fix that.’

Malakai jerked his head toward the bench where he’d set Nikai’s weapons; a set of twin swords made from a gold-nickel alloy, twin knives made from the same metal, a mountain laurel longbow, and a quiver of aluminum arrows. Nikai dashed over to the bench and grabbed the long blades on the far left side. Malakai watched approvingly as his student inspected the blades for any irregularity and scratched at the skin under his beard.

The collarbone length beard was Malakai’s, rather paltry, attempt to hide the scars on his neck from when he’d been caught in a rockslide many years ago. Several rocks had managed to cut and crush parts of his throat, resulting in both the scars and the permanent loss of his voice.

The  order in which Malakai placed Nikai’s weapons on the bench was an important part of the system of communication the two had established; as Nikai only had the barest grasp of Alerian sign language. Malakai always placed the weapons on the bench in the order they’d work with them, left to right. It cut out some of the writing and awkward gesturing, though some was unavoidable.

Though the loss of his voice had made it difficult to continue as a soldier Malakai had still led a small, but effective, squadron for several more years until his retirement, and he remained one of the best warriors in the nation. Which was why Nikai’s father, Karal Anaka, had hired him.

Malakai had taught both of Nikai’s older brothers, Jayden and Zarak, but neither had been as dedicated of students as Nikai.

Nikai finished his inspection of the shimmering blades, and turned to face Malakai. Malakai readied his stance and pulled out his own twin swords.

Nikai struck first, darting forward to deliver an experimental slash to Malakai’s chest. The older man blocked the blade in a shower of sparks, and retaliated with a slash at Nikai’s leg. Nikai reversed his grip on his free blade to block the strike. Then pulled the blade up, scratching against the opposing guard, to jab the pommel into Malakai’s sternum. The soldier’s breath abandoned him in a gasp, and he half doubled-over the weapon. Malakai quickly stepped back to free his blades and catch his breath.

PHVOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!

The sharp blast of a conch horn shattered the relative silence.

Nikai’s eyes darted in the direction of the sound, his grip on his weapons loosening.

Then Malakai moved.

He darted forward while Nikai was distracted and fell into a crouch, scything his leg toward Nikai he swept the young blond off his feet. Nikai’s blades slipped from his lax grasp as his back collided with the stone ground and forced the air from his lungs. Malakai swiftly rose from his crouch into a battle ready stance and leveled the tip of one of his swords at Nikai’s throat.

Nikai groaned and raised his head as much as he could, chest heaving. He wanted nothing more than to keep the spar going. His swords weren’t too far away, and if he moved quickly and quietly enough he could land a strike at the back of Malakai’s knee before the man could avoid it. The sword at his throat wasn’t so close as to render him immobile. He could do it, but…

Nikai’s eyes drifted back in the direction of the horn blast.

They both knew what that meant.

Malakai drew his sword away from Nikai’s throat and stepped back, jerking his head towards the front gate of the courtyard.

Nikai nodded and leapt to his feet. He fumbled to grab his fallen swords still trying to catch his breath. Once his blades were safely sheathed and placed on the bench Nikai ran for the gate, going only slightly slower than a full sprint.

Nikai wove his way through the crowd gathering around the stage in the center of the capitol just half a mile in front of the Queen’s castle. The crowd shuffled uncomfortably around him. No one would look directly at the stage, and many people had tears in their eyes.

The entire city balanced on a knife edge; waiting for The Death Goddess to decide how many would fall.

Nikai swallowed around a lump in his throat, his shoulders tensing. Thaneri would visit this city today.

Nikai bent over his knees gasping like he’d forgotten how to breathe as soon as he reached one of the boxes settled around the back and sides of the stage. As soon as his breathing evened Nikai straightened and wiped the sweat from his forehead and limp hair. Then stepped up the stairs to join his father and brothers; all of whom looked far better put together than he did.

Nikai took his place to Zarak’s left. He could practically feel the heat of his father’s disapproving glare at his state on his brother’s other side, but the full weight of Karal’s disapproval would come later. To speak now would be a grave mistake.

A second horn blast sounded through the city, and a gilded palanquin draped in rare, expensive red silk was carried through the gap in the boxes where other noble families stood, though many were empty, at the back of the stage.

The servants carrying the ornate structure set it down on the stage and two retreated back down the stairs while the remaining two stood to either side.

Behind the palanquin came six figures cloaked in distinctive gray and black hooded uniforms. Each wore a unique mask over their eyes; telling the people exactly who they were.

Lightning.

Dust.

Wind.

Fire.

Snow.

Ice.

Rain.

The Storm Riders.

The Queen’s elite personal soldiers and assassins.

Seven of the greatest minds and warriors in the country.

Seven.

One of them was missing. Dust was notably absent.

Nikai narrowed his eyes at the space between Wind and Lightning where Dust usually stood. What reason could there be for him not to be standing there.

Before he could consider it any further the two servants beside the palanquin stepped forward and pulled the two drapes of silk covering the front apart to reveal a woman seated in a simple throne.

The Alerian Queen, Kiera.

She stepped forward, the sun glinting off her dark hair and the gold band woven with diamond shards on her head that symbolised her power.

Kiera stepped gracefully and deliberately forward, and Wind and Rain moved forward to flank her.

The Queen and her guards stopped several feet from the edge of the stage, and Kiera opened her mouth to address the people.

“People of Aleria,” she began, voice strong and resonating, “fifteen years ago this country was wreathed in chaos and strife. Cities were divided, and families were torn apart. The mistakes of our former King led to the Alerian Civil War, ten long years of suffering. I had made it my goal to end that suffering, and five years ago succeeded. For five years we have rebuilt our proud nation, but our fight is not over! The people set to come before you now sought to usurp our hard-earned peace. The efforts of my Storm Riders ensured that this would be a futile goal, but though they were stopped there are others who share their aspirations. Those people must learn that we are no longer a nation to be trifled with!”

As she spoke three guards led a line of prisoners onto the stage. Five men and women in shackles and blindfolds marching with resigned, trembling steps. Most of them shook like branches in a hurricane, more than one had tears streaming from under their blindfolds, and as they passed Nikai heard one man reciting a prayer to Alarak under his breath over and over.

Prayers to the God of Justice will not save you now, Nikai thought scathingly, justice is what you are about to receive.

Only one in the line of prisoners stood strong. He was fifth and last in the line. He had the same dark hair and tawny skin as most natives to the island, but was far more toned and solidly muscled than the average citizen. He stared dead ahead as though he wasn’t blindfolded, and his jaw was as stiff and solid as a mountain.

The guards marched them to the front of the stage several meters to the Queen’s left.

“These people, will be their example.” Kiera stated.

The woman first in line was pulled forward and knocked to her knees. Her head was forced onto an aluminum chopping block leaving her neck exposed. One of the guards pulled a gold-nickel axe off his back and stepped up beside her. The other guard’s foot on her back ensured that she wouldn’t be able to avoid her fate.

The first guard raised his axe.

The tension in the air reached its apex.

People in the crowd looked away as subtly as they could. Many pulled their children to their sides, hiding their child’s face in the fabric of their clothes so they wouldn’t see.

The axe fell, cleanly severing the woman’s head from her body with a sharp ring as the axe hit the block. Blood spilled from her corpse and severed head pooling across the top of the block. The blood spread like a flood, staining the woman’s frozen face.

The guard’s partner didn’t even flinch. Instead she lifted the woman’s head by its hair releasing a deluge of blood sending the red life liquid drip, drip, dripping over the edge of the block.

The female guard dropped the head at the edge of the stage spattering blood across the panels, and sending the nearest spectators darting back to avoid the splash. A few weren’t quick enough, and their faces were speckled with drops of blood.

The other guard tossed the body carelessly to the side.

The girl walked back to the third guard and grabbed the next in line; the man who still muttered prayers as he was dragged forward and forced to kneel in his compatriot’s blood.

Again and again and again the axe fell, each time spilling a little more blood...each time stealing one more life.

Finally it was the last man’s turn. The Storm Riders seemed to become even more alert as he was dragged forward, their eyes following him almost sadly.

The guards pushed him to his knees and forced his head onto the block.

The man hadn’t flinched once throughout the execution, despite the sounds of heads being cleaved and the ringing of the axe striking the aluminum block, and he didn’t flinch now. Even through the blindfold he seemed to stare right at the Queen. Then he said something.

Nikai couldn’t make it out, but Kiera tensed and narrowed her eyes.

As though he could sense her response, the man gave a toothy smirk.

Then there was a spray of blood and a harsh ring as, one final time…

The axe fell.

[rosezemlya]

Sorry for being real specific, but have you written a new version of the Malakai fight scene somewhere where the Dream Team winds up in Febria’s Woods? I can’t find it. Thanks and love the story to far

No need to apologize!  I literally just redid like the last two paragraphs, but it seems like I never posted it.  The scene now ends as follows:

A portalopens - not a portal, a Door - andthe dark blur that saved Neesha earlier streaks out of it, slamming intoHarbinger with impossible force.  Itsends him flying back into the shattered remains of the altar, and then takesshape.  A shape I recognize.

She’sFae.  I’ve seen her before, she used tovisit the Dukae.  She shouldn’t behere.  The Fae don’t leave the ‘Twixt,that’s what keeps them safe from mortal wars and disease and all the horrors ofmortal life.  That’s what keeps them safefrom death.  

Worse thanthat, I realize, she’s the one who Told that tree intoexistence.  For her to have been able toTell something that big, from this side of the Lost Doors…she’d have to be aNarrator.  And there’s only one possiblereason a Narrator would be here, now.

Well whenit rains it bloody pours, doesn’t it?

Is thisyour idea of a Welcome to the Watch party, oh ye holy trinity of impolite words for terrible people andGoddesses?  Not enough to sic the Demon King on me, you gotta bring the Narrators into this?  Like, why? Do you have bets on how I’m gonna biteit?  I’m guessing Kyn’s money is onMalakai, he feels like Her kind of thing. Aiyet would have the Narrators. So what about You, Irae?  What’syour guess?

The Faesteps toward me and I step back immediately…onto thin air.

Thehole.  I forgot about the hole.

Love Youtoo, Irae.

Hunter andNeesha both try to catch me, but the ground is uneven and unstable and after abit of fumbling and stumbling all we manage to accomplish is that I pull themin with me.  I see the Fae woman raiseher hand and hear a sound like leaves urgently rustling.  Then the air we fall through turns into treebranches and leaves, sweet and earthy smelling, and then into open air again -but not the dank of the sewers beneath a defiled temple.  Try the dappled sun of a pleasant day in theforest.  I get a glimpse of a dancingcanopy of leaves above and brown earth below, and  then we crash into the ground with the forceof a meteor.

Whether Hunter and Neesha are okay, whether the demons are on ourtail, whether we’ve landedsomewhere safe, I have no idea, because I pass out.

[hippievibing]

New phon new kit pics! If u wanna subscribe to daily kit pics text 'SHOW ME UR KITTIES' to 42069 , if not you will make me cry

{✿} –❝Your ‘kitties’? You’re, um…talking about cats, right…?❞ Malakai had to reaffirm this with the person, seeing how their wording & chosen arrangement of dialogue seemed to resemble something less savoury. Aside from that, even if he had wanted to subscribe to daily pictures of kittens, he’d forgotten the number, already. He didn’t particularly mind having lost that particular piece of information, but that soon changed in a split second when they stated how much this meant to them. He looked almost guilty for not immediately signing up like some sort of kitten fanatic. ❝Oh, dear…! D-don’t cry! I - I mean, you can cry, it’s okay to cry, but…I’ll subscribe to your daily feline picture thing!! J-just repeat the number, and I’ll text it, immediately!❞ That was if he could work out how to use his damn phone. He fumbled around in his faux-leather bag for his cell, ❝Y-you don’t have to cry…! I’m sorry!!❞ Oh, God, he felt like the world’s biggest asshole, right now. Making people cry! You villain!!