#i started doing this after i went to a mediterranean restaurant a couple times and noticed the hummus was always served warm

[fluorescentbrains]

if you're like me and you always just ate hummus cold from the fridge. try warming that shit up. like 30 seconds in the michael wave . changes the whole fucking game

[wondersofdreaming]

Shades of Blue

Characters: Henry Cavill x female reader

Word count: 1.872

Warnings: Lots of fluff. Lots of emotions. Lots of feelings. Making love. NSFW!

Author’s note: @jolly-polly​ and I were discussing about the Greek Islands, and how much I loved the culture, the food, the people, the ocean and so forth. So she told me to write a cave scene, and I in turn challenge her to write a cabin scene ;)

I do not own any characters in this short story, except the reader who is a figment of my imagination.

Thank you so much to @radaofrivia​, my angel, who send me lots of pictures, ideas, advice, sounds of the ocean, and lots of encouragement to write this piece.

MASTERLIST

Feedback is appreciated.

The yacht was rocking slowly side to side, a soothing motion that was lulling you to sleep, together with the sound of water splashing against the tall cliff. Seagulls were diving into the azure ocean for fish or trying to steal each other’s catch. You could hear your friends swimming happily close to the shore, their laughter reaching your ears, making you smile widely.

You were laying on one end of the yacht, absorbing the sun’s rays and just enjoying your holiday in the Mediterranean Sea, when a large shadow blocked the warm light. You took off your sunglasses and shrieked when the brisk ocean water started dripping on you.

“Henry! That’s cold!” You told your boyfriend laughing as he pulled you up. His smile shone brightly through the shadow he cast and bent down to give you a gentle kiss.

“Come swim with me, my love,” he tried to coax you. His abs were glistening in the sun, his wet hair curling, and his cerulean eyes challenging you.

“How can I say no, when you give me those puppy dog eyes?

”You stand on the tip of your toes to kiss his nose, then wiggled out of his grip.

“The last one in the water is a slowpoke!”

Henry’s sweet laughter could be heard as he ran after you. You dove into the clear blue sea, enveloped by the cold refreshing liquid. You opened your eyes and watched an explosion of bubbles happening next to you. Henry’s grinning face came out of the foam and swam towards you. He wrapped his muscular arms around your waist and with a few kicks of his strong legs, he broke to the surface, gasping for air.

“You cheated,” he accused you, but his teasing eyes and grinning lips were telling you, he didn’t mind that you had won the impromptu race.

“I did no such thing,”

“How about a consolation prize for the loser?” He pouted.

An amused look spread on your suntanned face as you went to meet his full lips. Even while he was using a lot of strength to hold you both above water, he kneaded your ass and took over the kiss. He was like a starving lion, hungry for anything you would give him. What he didn’t know was that he already owned you, body, heart, and soul.

His tongue touched the rim of your lips, seeking entrance to your warm mouth. You opened up to him, trusting him to keep you from drowning. The tip of your tongue moved to touch the roof of his mouth. You felt the vibrations of his moans through your entire body. One large hand palmed the back of your head, deepening your coupling.

“Oi! Lovebirds! We’re going to get something to eat, are you coming?” One of your friends yelled from the shore.

Henry’s lips spread as he smiled into yours. He slowly moved away, pecking your well-kissed lips one last time, before turning his attention to your friend.

“No thanks, mate. We’re good.”

“We are?” You asked him. His signature panty-melting smirk gave you a hint that he was hungry for something other than food.

“I have something special planned for us,” he whispered, licking the shell of your ear. A quiver went down your spine in anticipation of what was to come.

You swam towards the yacht. Henry helped you out of the teal coloured ocean.

“Stay here, we’re going to the shore in just a minute.”

He went into the bedrooms and collected a waterproof rucksack. His large hand wrapped around your smaller one as you dove back into the Aegean Sea, swimming the short distance to the beach.

Your friends waved at you from the bar, sending you cheeky smiles. Henry pushed you gently the opposite way.

“Henry, where are we going?” You asked, keeping up with his long strides.

“It’s a surprise. I promise you’ll love it.”

After a few more minutes of walking, Henry stopped and put his large palms over your eyes.

“Take a few steps until I say stop,” Henry told you. You giggled and took a cautious step, not knowing what was in front of you except sand. He guided you a little to the left, into the ocean until the water reached your knees. You then wadded through the waves for a few metres before Henry told you to stand still.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes!”

Henry’s chuckle made you smile. You had gotten goosebumps from the excitement. Henry removed his hands. You blinked a few times, trying to adjust to the very bright sun.

The scene in front of you made you start to tear up.

“I got a little help to set this up,” Henry leaned his chin on your shoulder, wrapping his arms around your torso.

“I love it, babe. Thank you,” you told him and kissed his scruffy cheek.

Smiling, he led you to the laid out black and blue blanket that had been set up with a picnic basket, a bottle of champagne sat in a bucket of ice, and a single red rose lay on top of an envelope.

You opened and read the card out loud:

“Have fun, lovebirds 😉”

A burst of laughter escaped your lips. You set the card down and handed the cooled bottle to Henry.

The bubbly liquid spilt over his hands when the cork flew up in the air. You quickly held up the two glasses for him to pour in the champagne.

Henry fed you fresh Vietnamese spring rolls, Scotch eggs, blueberry muffins, scones, a large variety of chocolate-covered fruits, different cheeses and loaves of freshly baked bread.

“When did you have time to make all of this?” You asked curiously while biting into a Scotch egg. The yolk was soft and gooey, just the way you liked it, and the crumb was crispy and bursting with flavour.

“Most of the food is from a restaurant in town, but the Scotch eggs and scones I made on the yacht, while you slept in this morning,” he told you and took a large gulp of the golden wine.

“How sneaky of you. That’s why the kitchen was so clean when I got up.”

“Well, I had to clean the mess I made, so you wouldn’t become suspicious.”

“Very clever of you, Mr Cavill.”

The grin on his handsome face hinted on more surprises to come.

“You’re hiding something, my love. Out with it.”

Henry ate the last bite of the food, before he stood, dusting some sand off his trunks.

“I do have something I want to show you,” he held out his hand, helping you up. You helped him pack the blanket and empty champagne bottle into the rucksack. The rest was shoved into the picnic basket.

Henry intertwined your fingers together as you walked further down the beach, which was getting narrower and narrower. Henry put the rucksack and picnic basket down and waded into the clear water when there was no more sand to walk on.

You would follow him to the end of the earth if it meant being with him forever. When the ocean reached your chest, he picked you up and swam to the other side of the rocky wall.

A large entrance to a cave loomed over your heads as Henry inched closer. You could hear the waves hitting the cavern walls, it made the eerie-looking grotto less intimidating.

“Oh my gosh, Henry. How did you find this?”

“We sailed past it yesterday,”

“Huh, I didn’t even notice. Someone was distracting me by walking around in nothing but these tight swimming trunks.”

Henry laughed and paddled into the cave. The sea went rapidly from light cyan to midnight blue. The light couldn’t reach that far inside, but your eyes swiftly adjusted to the dark. A tiny island sat in the middle of the grotto, and it looked like the rocks there were moving.

“Look, Henry! It’s turtles!”

It was quite the sight, as the turtles moved to make room for the two of you. The surface of the island was flat and smooth. You sat at the edge with your feet in the water, shivering a bit from the cold air inside the cave.

“Come here, my angel.”

Henry manoeuvred you into his lap. You felt his rising excitement beneath your bottom. His lips grazed your exposed shoulders. A fire was slowly building up inside you, as his lips explored your chest, removing your bikini top.

His nimble fingers moved between your bodies. It felt as if he was touching you everywhere and nowhere at the same time. You burned for him, wanting his soft touch at your most intimate place.

“Henry…” you whined.

“Patience, darling. All good things come to those who wait.”

You huffed out an annoyed groan. But two could play the dirty game, so you moved your fingers into his hair, massaging his scalp, pulling gently at his curls, while you clashed your lips to his. The grunts that left his lips made you grind your pelvis to his groin. His eyes turning to a dark sapphire colour.

In one swift move, he had you on your back. The surface of the island cold, but you didn’t care. All you wanted was Henry. He whispered words of love in your ear as he made sweet passionate love to you. Your moans echoed through the cavern as you moved as one being. The sound of the water splashing in the background. The turtles jumping into the ocean to give you space. Your bodies moved as fluidly as the waves.

All your senses were heightened, but they were concentrated on Henry. Tears of joy and tears of ecstasy from the intense emotions that were welling up inside you ran down your reddened cheeks. Henry kissed them away, drinking the salty sea pouring from your lust-filled eyes.

It felt like an eternity had passed that you had spent forever in the cave, but only a moment had gone by. Time had stopped while you two devoured each other in a passionate pairing.

As the waves crashed against the island, so did the ecstasy burst inside your satisfied body. You fell into the abyss of euphoria together. You were panting as if you had just run a marathon.

Sweat mixed with salty seawater dripped down your back. Henry moved to lay down next to you, pulling you on top of him. He kissed your forehead lovingly, telling you how much he loved you.

After you caught your breath you put your bikini back on, even made Henry help you tie the ends together. You jumped headfirst into the indigo water and out into the horizon dipping sun. A turtle swam past you, gracing you with its fin.

Henry dove beneath the waves to swim after it and you followed him. More turtles joined your little swimming party as you danced with Henry in the waves. The sky had gone from cornflower blue to shades of orange, red, pink and purple.

“Thank you for today, handsome. I do have one request before the day is over.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart.”

“You just rocked that tiny island, do you think we can make the yacht rock too?”

[aprils-arcadia]

A Weekend in Rome

Pairing: Kihyun x Reader Genre: Fluff Word Count: 2,2k Summary: Your business trip to Rome turned out completely different from what you’d imagined, as your attractive co-worker decided to accopany you. 

You never really like rules. It was easier to not restrict yourself, in the end you would just be disappointed with yourself for not being able to follow them. So you only had one thing that could be considered a rule. A simple one that you had just put out there for yourself to keep an eye out. You never really thought that you would find yourself in a situation that required you to listen to yourself. Your rule had been to never date or get romantically involved with a co-worker or to simply fall for one. The emphasis lies on the ‘had been’ because at this very moment you couldn't be further away from following it. 

You were sitting in a cafe and fidgeted with the sugar packets, neatly putting them in their container and then spilling it out again to arrange them differently. It wasn't out of boredom, rather out of pure nervousness with a slight hint of terror. 

When you had agreed to come to this conference you never would have dreamed that the head of marketing would tag along. You had envisioned this trip as a nice getaway, a possibility to work with it not feeling like work at all. 

Rome had been a dream destination for you since you were little and to have the opportunity to go there for a long weekend with it being completely paid by your company had made it even better. You only had to attend a few talks and give a 30-minute presentation yourself, easy peasy. The rest of the time you would have been free to roam the city and to do every touristy and non-touristy thing you could think of. This plan had been crossed effortlessly by Yoo Kihyun himself. 

The small cafe near the venue was nearly empty apart from you and Kihyun, who now made his way back to you, two coffees in hand. He sported you a bright smile and sat down opposite of you. You quickly grabbed the sugar packets that were still sprawled over the entire table and shoved them into the container, ruining your last 5 minutes of meticulous work. You tried to smile back at him but knew that this was not your usual charming professional smile but the awkward smile of your thirteen-year-old self trying to talk to a boy. You had been thoroughly convinced that you had dropped that bashful, clumsy version of yourself ages ago. But here you were surprising yourself in the most uncalled for and unwanted way possible. 

"I gotta say you were pretty impressive up there," Kihyun loosened the slim black tie around his neck and opened the top button. It was a hot day, the sun almost at its highest point grilling all that stood in its way. Part of you missed the wonderfully climated hall you had spent the last 3 hours in because now the only thing that cooled you slightly was the soft fresh breeze which gradually flowed through the stuffy mediterranean air. He rolled up the sleeves of his button down without breaking eye contact. And with that simple course of action he made the day a little hotter. You felt your ears slowly turn red as you tried to look as normal as you could even after the unexpected compliment and now the slow transition from business to casual was messing with your brain considerably.

You couldn't be serious. This wasn't your first date. In fact you didn't know if this could even be called a date. You had held your presentation an hour ago and afterwards he just asked you to grab coffee. 

That is all this was. 

That is all this was, you repeated to yourself. But you had no chance in avoiding how handsome the man before you was. You had seen him in a few board meetings before and even though your two departments usually worked closely together you seldomly had any face-to-face contact with him since his office was in a different building complex. Luckily for you, because even though you never really fell for him, which would definitely be against your rule, you still were very much attracted to him and had trouble staying focused in the very few times you actually occupied the same space just like now.

"Thanks," you were able to mumble. You took your coffee from the tray and gave him a small nod. 

"So tell me more about what you found out.” 

After hearing those words you immediately relaxed. This wasn't a date. Not at all. He just wanted to talk to you about your work. That you could do. There was no reason to be awkward, this was strictly professional. You sighed in relief and started to explain all the various components of your talk and went further into detail. He listened to you attentively while sipping his coffee.

"So as I said it is extremely vital to continue monitoring -"

"-You know I gotta say I like you better that way"

"Excuse me?" 

"Well you seemed really uncomfortable since I invited you. It's nice to see you relax a bit. Makes me feel less like I am forcing you out on a date"

"A....a date?"

"Yeah a date. Did I not make that clear?" He looked a little lost and you could clearly see the gears inside his head turning. "I'm sorry. I really thought that would have been obvious." He chuckled and you were completely unable to focus.

Your response probably took you longer than it was comfortable for both parties. But you couldn't believe that you got this all wrong. So this was supposed to be a date. Well that changed things. Or did it really? If you were comfortable talking to him a second ago why would you now be this damn flustered. Sure he was intimidatingly perfect and having taken an interest in him over the last year or so made you not wanting to screw up. So sure nervousness was perfectly appropriate. Still this was your chance. Your chance to get to know him. And what did you plan to do, run? Like hell that would be a good idea. You were here, he was here and you were in goddamn Rome having clearly left your one rule at the airport. So screw it. Might as well make the best of it. 

You brushed a stray strand of hair back over your ear and mustered your courage.

"I’m sorry. A date sounds great and it gives us some time to get to know each other and even though we've been working together for a year now I hardly know you." 

"Well it's not like you ever gave me a chance. You usually just rush out of the meetings I am part of and I rarely see you at the cafeteria." You knew exactly why you didn't try to get any close to him because you would have probably fallen for him instantly. As you were doing now. 

“I mean I could have asked you out via email but let's be honest that would have been really weird. Attached you can find the overview we discussed and also would you be interested in grabbing a coffee with me' I don't think so." You giggled. 

"Actually I got one of those once. From Minhyuk in sales. I really didn't know how to respond”

"Funny I got one or those as well." Both of you burst out into laughter.

“But seriously though. It's like whenever I see you, you are running all over the place your bright yellow binder in hand. And I never see you at the cafeteria. You're really not that easy to get close to."

"I'm sorry I feel like I was just dashing through life the last couple of months. I mean you know how stressful the whole project was. So I never really had time to myself or for others"

“Well sounds to me like it’s about damn time you had some fun.” He grabbed your hand and pulled you from your seat, quickly wrapping an arm around your waist to prevent you from stumbling. You were close to him. Too close. You could feel the heat rushing towards your head and forgot to breathe for what felt like forever. His face was now only a few inches away from you. Your eyes were drawn towards his lips and for a split second you couldn’t stop your mind from going places you had tried to avoid. You could just simply kiss him, it would be so easy. The only thing you’d had to do would be to place your hand on the back of his neck and slowly draw him in. You could do that. Probably.

“So where do you wanna go first? I know some really nice spots”

You steadied your footing and straightened your skirt steadily brushing away the wrinkles and the thoughts that were filling your head. “Sure surprise me”

And surprise you he did. You spend most of the day going from gallery to museum and marveled at the beautiful architecture. Your plan had only involved the mainstream tourist spots, the blatantly obvious go to spots. But it was paling in comparison to the places he showed you. 

He excitedly told you everything he knew about the places he showed you all the while never leaving your side. You tried your best to let your eyes remain on the things he was telling you about but ever so often you couldn’t stop yourself from admiring the man beside you. 

The bright midday sun was highlighting the sharp edges of his face making it look even more perfect than it already was. His laugh and smile were intoxicating, making you smile brightly everytime and making you want to spend every waking second of this weekend with him. Seeing him wildly gesticulate in the air because words were not enough to convey his excitement, seeing his eyes light up when he noticed how interested you were and most of all making you feel like you were the only thing that mattered. He was able to casually take your hand whenever it was necessary to not lose you or simply because just standing next to you didn’t cut it. 

“How do you even know of these places?” you had asked him once you entered a quiet alley looking for a specific restaurant he’d been talking about for the whole day. 

“Well I spent the last few years at this conference, just with a different employer. So once I got the main touristy things out of the way I got bored and started to wander around, talked to locals, that kind of thing. I mean touristy spots aside those small places have their own charm and they are not so damn crowded all the time” you turned a corner. 

The alley you had entered was gorgeous and it looked like an old painting or at least a picture perfect little world. The narrow cobblestone path wound around the houses. Not the straight lines of streets that dictated where you were going but rather like a little stream that was built gradually to connect the houses without wanting to disturb any of them. The buildings were overgrown with ivy and every house seemed to have their own little hanging garden perched upon the small balconies. Everything was framed in green and a few radiant specks of colour in the form of tiny flowers. You hadn’t moved but were just admiring the view. Trying to take it all in and commit it to memory. 

“Ah there we are” The place he pointed to was a small window front, not more than the little shops at home that had been neatly arranged next to each other. It only had a few chairs outside.

“Come on. Let’s eat” 

Kihyun was standing right beside you and took your hand, gently guiding you towards a free table. “

The meal had been delicious and after it was over none of you had the intention of leaving instead you spent the rest of the evening talking until the sun was slowly setting. The twilight illuminated the small world you were currently lost in. Sitting in this tiny restaurant and talking to the man you had tried so hard to avoid.

Giving in had been so easy. You didn’t want to fall in love, hell you even went to such length as to not give him any chance to really talk to you. And absolutely you were right. Because right now that mushy feeling in your stomach had grown to a size you could no longer ignore. No you didn’t want to fall in love but you sure as hell were. He’s shown you his favorite places, the hidden gems in his tour all putting one thought in your head that you couldn't shake: He seems to like you. Or was he just playing with you? Taking you along to not spend the weekend alone and ditching you once you were back home? Maybe just maybe he’d be capable of this. And let’s be honest just because you were getting attached wouldn’t mean he’d do the same, now would it. But right now you didn’t care. Even if he was just playing some wicked game with you, you had already fallen too deep. Too deep to realize it even if you wanted to and too deep to care that he might destroy that little world of yours in 2 days time.

[wreckofawriter]

The Colors of Us

Pairing: Blaise Zabini x muggle!reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: tiny bit of swearing, drinking

Request: @prettylittlehiddles: Hey! I'm completely in love with your work! Could I perhaps request one where Blaise Zabini meets the muggle!reader in a cozy cafe and then their relationship grows, but after a month or so, he has to leave to attend to something in the wizarding world and returns to meet the reader again who has hopelessly fallen in love with him just by losing her mind over not being able to see him? Thanks!

A/n: tiny bit more angst than intended, mostly fluffy. Hop you like it!

    Blaise pushed open the door to the small cafe to find it surprisingly busy, it's usually quiet atmosphere replaced by one of chatter and laughter. He ignored it, heading to the counter and ordering a drink, turning to look for a place to sit after he did so. His eyes scanned the small room finding a few seats open, unfortunately, their tables were not. He began to judge the people sitting near each available chair. One was next to two girls a bit older than him who were laughing together over frappuccinos, another an elderly couple and the final small booth, a figure curled behind a book occupying one side. 

    As his name was called he grabbed the coffee and made his way towards the empty side of the booth. You had your nose buried in a book a pair of headphones on your head. Your knees were pulled to your chest, your back against the window behind you. You looked up as you felt a tap on your shoulder. 

    Blaise stifled a chuckle when your gaze met his, you looked like he had awoken you from a deep sleep your eyes wide, hair a bit disheveled as you pulled your headphones around your neck. 

    “Can I sit here?” He asked, “The rest of the cafe is full.” 

    You seemed to take a second to process the information he had just given you before nodding and grinning at him, “Sure.” 

    He smiled back, sliding across form you and taking a sip of his drink. “I’m Blaise by the way.” He spoke sticking out your hand. 

    You shook it, “Y/n, its nice to meet you.”  It fell silent as you pretend to read peeking over your book at the attractive man sitting across from you. You blushed when your eyes met cursing yourself mentally. 

    “What are you reading?” He asked cringing at his generic question but happy that the silence was gone. 

    You held the book up so he could see the cover, “Freiheit 451.” you responded before lowering it and stirring your own drink. 

    “A classic.” he grinned, “Have you read it before?” 

    “Yeah but it when I was really young so I had a hard time understanding it.” You explained, “It still makes me mad though.” 

    “It makes everyone mad.” he chuckled. 

    “Yeah, I guess that’s kinda the point.” You shrugged, “I take it you’ve read it.” 

    “I did last year I think actually but I much prefer The Long Rain, less popular but good never the less.” He explained.

    Your eyes shone a bit as he spoke, “I haven’t read that one, so it’s good?”

    “Definitely.” He smiled leaning forward o his elbows.

    “Okay, what’s your all-time favorite book?” You asked before smirking, “I feel like you would have sophisticated taste.” 

    “I do?” His grin widened, “Why’s that?” 

    “I don’t know.” You huffed, “You just..do. So what is it?” 

    Blaise hummed thinking, half about what his favorite book and half about what he would think would impress you. You, of course, didn’t know the difference. “I’m going to have to say Catch-22.” He decided, it was only a half-lie, he quite liked the book he just liked a few others better. 

    “Very good choice.” You smiled, “Mine’s To Kill a Mocking Bird, I wish Harper Lee wrote more than she did, one book isn’t enough.” 

    The conversation continued branching from books to bands to movies. Your own book was closed and in the seat next to you as you leaned forward towards the boy smirking across from you. You bit back giggles as he told you stories of his friends, your coffee long gone cold. 

    He glanced at his watch and clenched his jaw, “I’ve got to go.” He mumbled standing from his seat. 

    “Oh.” You attempted to mask your disappointment with a small smile. 

    Blaise smirked back, “Are you available tomorrow?” 

    “I think so.” You answered scrunching your brow, unsure. 

“Can you meet me back here at noon?” He asked placing his hands on the table and lowering himself to your level. 

“S-sure.” You stumbled over the simple word, he was close, too close. You could smell his cologne, something you were sure cost more than everything you were wearing combined, his breath was peppermint coffee. 

“Great.” He grinned, “I’ll see you then.” 

“Okay.” You breathed out, so suddenly infatuated you were sure he had cast a spell over you. Your cheeks burnt with firey blossoms, your mind seemed hazy. 

He stood up and walked away with a small wave. 

You squealed the second he stepped out of the door, slamming your hands over your mouth. 

Blaise pretended not to hear despite the widening smile that found his lips. 

The next day you awoke uncharacteristically early, you got ready in a flash despite still having an hour before you would even begin to have to make your ways towards the cafe. You busied yourself with reading, managing to finish Fernhiet 451 and suddenly wishing you could set it on fire all over again.  You left your house about 20 minutes before noon a new book, Cold Mountian, lodged under your arm, your wallet stuck in the back pocket of your jeans. You could not keep the boy from your thoughts. His everything remained in your thoughts as you boarded the bus and hopped off four stops later. You got to the cafe ten minutes early and was surprised to see Balise already inside, sitting at the same booth you had occupied yesterday. 

You took a deep breath, gathering yourself before entering. You walked over to the booth but before you could sit down he had risen, handing you a drink and practically dragging you from the shop. 

Bewildered you stopped after reaching the sidewalk, “Blaise! What was that?” 

He only smirked back his eyes sparkling, “We have to hurry, it’s a good thing you weren’t late.” 

“What?” you asked.

He reached into his pocket and removed two tickets, “My mom gave them to me yesterday after I met you and I thought it would be fun.” 

Upon closer inspection of the tickets, you gasped, “Holy shit! How did you get those?” 

He shrugged, “Come on we’ve got to go, it starts in like 20 minutes.” Then he stopped smile faltering, eyes falling, “I mean unless you don’t want to go, I didn’t really ask you or anything.” 

You laughed, “Are you kidding, you scored tickets to Phantom of the Opera and you think I’m not going?” 

His lips turned up again, “Then let’s go.” 

And you did. 

Day after day you met up with Balise, your summer went from a dull grey to splashed with vibrant colors you didn’t even know existed. Every day he would have some other amazing and over the top activity for you to do. He took you to Italy insisting his mother honestly did not care. You went cliff diving into the Mediterranean Sea, he took you to Greece, you saw the ruins of the Parthenon and in Rome you and eat at some far too expensive Italian restaurant before viewing the Colosseum. Blaise was like a deity that had been sent to make your life incredible. 

His bottomless amount of money confused you at first until you went to his house, or I guess you should call it an estate. His mother wasn't exactly fond of you but in all honestly, you didn't care all that much, Blaise was about as connected to his mother as you were. 

Three days before you began your final year of high school you and Blaise lay on the hood of your old Subaru tipsy on cheap beer as you stared up at the constellations. 

"How the hell do you know so many of these damn things?" You giggled as Blasie explained yet another group of stars you barely recognized. 

"Our school makes us take astrology." He shrugged. 

You laughed, "Of course it does." 

Things fell quiet. The chirp of crickets who would be dead in a few weeks echoing around you. The warmth of summer was dying and you were dressed in a light sweater and a pair of Blaise’s sweatpants cinched tightly around your waist. 

You yawned turning to look at the boy only to find his eyes already on you. You swam in the chocolate brown reflecting the stars above you. Your heart throbbed when he smiled at you. You could feel your cheeks begin to heat and you hoped he would blame it on the slight breeze that rolled through.

He didn't. 

You leaned closer to the Slytherin, his breath fanning across your face. He could smell your perfume, an intoxicating scent. His hand wandered around your neck, tugging you closer. Your eyes slipped shut and your lips met. 

The kiss was soft and slow, his lips slightly chapped, his breath was warm and inviting. You slipped your hand around his shoulder and his tongue slid across your bottom lip. Then suddenly, as if struck by something, he jerked away, sitting away from you. 

Your eyes snapped open, a shiver running through you, you felt suddenly cold without Blaise's heat. 

"I'm sorry y/n." He spoke quietly. "I shouldn't have done that." 

"Why not?" You asked desperately, just wanting to taste him again.  

He paused, "We're drunk." 

"I'm not drunk." You stated, "Are you drunk?" 

"No." He answered numbly, sliding from the hood of your car. 

"Than what's up Blaise?" You questioned standing as well.

"I just- ya know- I mean your-" he started multiple sentences as unsure what he was saying as you were.

"If you didn't want to kiss me Zabini you could have just told me." You explained, "I wouldn't have held it against you or anything." 

"No. It's not you. I wanted to kiss you I really did. It's just that-" he sighed biting his lip, "I mean I'm leaving for school tomorrow and I won’t see you for months and I mean your a muggle and everything, god this is so confusing." He groaned letting his head fall into his hands. 

"I'm a what?" You asked slightly annoyed at this point.

"Nothing." He mumbled. 

"Look if this is about your school, I can wait, I can write to you ya know, I mean after this year you're done right?" You said stepping closer to him. 

He let out a shaky breath, "I think I need to go home." 

You squeezed your eyes, tears threateningly close to spilling over but you bit your tongue, "Okay." 

You both got into your car without a word. The silence was suffocating. 

"Are you good to drive?" He asked hesitantly. 

"I'm fine." You snapped back, you knew you shouldn't be mad, it was his choice if he didn't want to kiss you, he had no obligation to you. Yet a fire burned, anger causing your jaw to tighten and your eyes sting. 

The drive back was silent, the only sound being of the tires on the road and the occasional tick of your blinker. You pulled in front of his estate and stopped, your grip on the wheel turning your knuckles white. 

"I'm sorry y/n." Blaise's voice was melancholy, it only made your throat swell, breathing becoming more and more difficult. 

You swallowed everything inside you and turned to smile at him, "It's okay." Your voice was overly cheery. 

He licked his lips, "I guess I'll see you later." 

"Yeah. Goodbye." You forced out. 

"Goodbye." He responded shutting the door and turning around. A small wave over his shoulder being the last thing you saw before tearing out of the driveway, tears streaming down your cheeks. 

You didn't even make it block before pulling over and breaking down at your wheel, sticky tears dripping onto sweatpants you would never be able to return. 

Blaise swore harshly slamming into his house. His own tears had gathered in his eyes, attempts to blink them away were fruitless as they spilled down his cheeks. 

His mother appeared a few doors away and made her way towards him, "Were you out with that filthy muggle girl again?" 

"At least I wasn't killing another husband." He spat back. 

She shot him a glare, smirking when she noticed his tears, "You ended it didn't you?" She grinned, "Good for you, I didn't think you had the guts." 

"Fuck you." He sneered before turning on his heel and heading towards his bedroom. He still needed to pack. 

Your senior year of high school had the worst start imaginable. You were already heartbroken and you hadn't even dated anyone. You supposed that was the issue. Your friends did their best to help you, they were good. You moved on, well you pretended you did. You didn't date anyone, you made out with one person at a party and immediately regretted it, you had thought it was Blaise for a second. 

The boy plagued your mind. His smirk haunted your dreams, his touch ghosting your thoughts. His laughter constantly echoed in your mind. It was almost psychotic how much your mind wandered towards him. You had had a summer which had been a daydream, the following school year being a nightmare only seemed fitting. 

You buried yourself in your schoolwork, applied for scholarships, plowed headfirst into your sports, took overtime at your part-time job. You didn't think of the handsome boy that you had spent your months of happiness with. Your world faded to grey as his colors were washed away by the hell of high school and the feeling of heartbreak.

The year was over in a flash, you were soon crying on a stage with your friends in a gown and black caps. You wiped your tears, sitting with three of your friends in the middle of the football turf. You laughed as one of them told you a story about her first attempt running hurdles. 

Your giggles stopped suddenly as someone appeared from behind one of the bleachers. Noticing your mood change your friends followed your gaze, she gasped,

"Is that the boy? Blaise?" 

You nodded numbly, in a daze. 

"Should I go beat him up for you? " she asked cracking her knuckles. 

You spared an empty smile, "I'm okay." You stood brushing off the pants you were wearing, having traded in the black gown hours ago. 

As you stood he suddenly broke into a run. You did the same and all too quickly you stood in front of the tall boy, his hair had grown longer, wrapped in tight curls. He had a small scar under his right eye. He looked tired. 

"Y/n, I'm sorry." He spoke quickly, "I should never have said what I did, I'm so so sorry." 

Your heart thumped anger and sadness washing out of you "You're lucky I like you so much." You whispered, "Now kiss me properly."

He did as he was told, sweeping you off of the ground his arms around your waist and tugging you towards him. You snaked your hands around his neck pulling him impossibly closer. You titled your head upwards allowing him to deepen the kiss as you opened your mouth. He tasted like peppermint and lime, so sharp yet so amazing. 

You pulled away and he set you back onto your feet. Ignoring the whistles and catcalls from your friends"I missed you like hell." You confessed. 

He laughed, his hands coming to cup your face, "Never as much as I missed you." His heart throbbed as your eyes began to gloss. "I'm so sorry for ever leaving you as I did."

You lunged forward, burying yourself into his neck, "I think I love you, Blaise." You whispered into his ear. 

"I know I love you." And your world was once again flooded with color. 

Taglist:

@accio-rogers

@roslea

@k3nz-doodl3

@theseuscmander

@sleepingalaska

Masterlist

[pandemicperipatetics]

Two Weeks in Denver

The Verdict:

We spent 13 nights in Denver (well actually, just south of Denver in Greenwood Village). With the beautiful outdoors, friendly people, and the best/chillest drivers of anywhere we've driven in the U.S., it was our favorite stop so far! It seems like a wonderful place to live. Denver is large and seems to have lots of stuff to do in the city and surrounding areas, so this post covers just a fraction of the options.

Things to Do:

Hiking (Ranked in order of our most to least recommended)

Rocky Mountain National Park (~2 hrs drive): Check out our RMNP blog post!

Boulder (45 min drive): We didn't have a chance to hike in Boulder, but we hear it's awesome. We had hoped to stop by Chautauqua Park to check out the trails (we read that Enchanted Mesa Trail was a good 4-miler) or El Dorado Canyon State Park. We did enjoy walking along Pearl Street, where there are plenty of tasty treats (we enjoyed smoothie bowls) and appreciated the free parking in the city's covered parking garages (we parked at 1500 Pearl, which was a perfect location). Logistics: Waze told us there was a toll on the Interstate to Boulder, but Google Maps thought it was a toll-free drive. The answer? There is an optional toll lane on the highway, but you can make the trip in the toll-free lanes.

Red Rocks (30-40 min drive): This is a naturally occurring amphitheatre that is best known for evening concerts against an incredibly scenic vista. While we weren't looking for a crowded concert during the pandemic, we visited in the morning and were blown away by how beautiful the amphitheatre was (and how many stairs there were to get to the top!). We also walked the beautiful 1.4 mile Red Rocks Trading Post Trail loop, which also had a moderate amount of uphill/downhill. It was VERY hot and sunny when we got there around 10:30 a.m.; though the weather app said it was below 80 degrees, the sun was really beating down. Next time, we'd go earlier in the day (later can be tricker due to concerts in the evenings) for better weather and hopefully smaller crowds. Logistics: We just entered Red Rocks into Google Maps and it took us to a parking lot near the amphitheatre. The trail was just a couple minutes' walk from the parking area, near the Trading Post building. Parking was free and not too hard to find.

Vail/Breckenridge area (~90 mins drive): We didn't have a chance to visit, but it sounds like there's very nice hiking around here in the summer.

Garden of the Gods and Pike's Peak in Colorado Springs (~1 hr drive): When we got a nail in our tire and had to get the tire replaced, the nice guy at Firestone highly recommended we visit these areas for beautiful scenery. While we didn't make it, we read that Garden of the Gods can get very crowded, especially with Instagram-focused tourists more so than a hiking acrowd. We also read that it's not quite as nice as the Utah National Parks or Sedona. Pike's Peak also sounds touristy; there is a coveted tram that takes you to the top, at 14K feet of elevation -- after moderate altitude sickness at RMNP, we decided to sit this one out.

Denver Neighborhoods & Sights (Ranked in order of our most to least-recommended)

Denver Botanic Gardens (free with American Horticultural Society membership): This is one of the most beautiful botanic gardens we've ever seen, anywhere. It was also excruciatingly crowded on a Saturday morning and a very un-fun experience to find parking. Despite how stunning the gardens are, we preferred the much less crowded walk through Cheesman Park and the cute surrounding neighborhood. Logistics:  If the Botanic Gardens parking garage and parking lot are full, park for free at nearby Congress Park, Cheesman Park, or on a random side street a 5+ min walk from the gardens. Be observant of street signs to make sure you haven’t parked in a residential area that requires a parking permit.

RiNo (River North Arts District): About a 10 minute drive from downtown, RiNo is a hip area full of breweries, street art, and run-down looking houses. On a Saturday around 2pm, street parking was sparse (but free) and the breweries seemed packed with people. We read that the street murals are at their best on 26th-31st streets between Larimer & Walnut, and we weren't blown away in comparison to Plaza Walls in Oklahoma City or The Mission in San Francisco. Due to the extreme heat we didn't stick around, but we were interested in checking out Finns Manor (cocktails + food trucks), Denver Central Market (High Point Creamery apparently offers an ice cream flight?!), and a few breweries. Maybe next time! Logistics: Street parking is free.

Washington Park: This is very nice park for a stroll. When we went on a Saturday evening around sunset, it wasn’t very crowded. The surrounding neighborhood looks very nice, and there seem to be good places to eat nearby (our friend suggested Sushi Den, though we didn’t have a chance to try it out). We saw someone paddleboarding on the water, which looked picturesque! Logistics: There are parking lots and ample street parking around the park.

Sloan’s Lake (near Highland neighborhood): The park has a beautiful lake with a sizeable trail going around it. It reminded us of Lake Merritt in Oakland. When we went on a Sunday evening, it was somewhat busy with people running, walking, biking, and on scooters/skateboards/roller blades, and there was lots of goose poo everywhere. The surrounding area wasn’t quite as nice as that around Cheesman Park or Washington Park, but we still liked the lake. Note there were no water activities allowed -- signs indicated the water sometimes gets too unclean to enter. Edgwater Market is a few minutes away (we recommend driving as the walk isn’t very nice) and has a cute outdoor patio and lots of different types of ethnic food to try out (we especially liked the veggie pesto crepe at the crepe stand). Logistics: There are parking lots at the lake and the market.

LoDo (Lower Downtown): The downtown area is meh, you can skip it if you're short on time. If you go, you can walk through Larimer Square, a small, cute block of shops and eateries with outdoor seating that is roped off from cars; check out Union Station, where the Amtrak goes and there are a bunch of places to eat/get coffee (including the overrated Snooze AM eatery - reserve your spot in line 1-2 hrs in advance if going and be sure to get the sweet potato pancake); walk the 16th Street Mall, a very touristy street of more shops and eateries (not as cute as Larimer Square, but a pro is there is a free bus that takes you up and down this long street); and walk by Coors Field if you're a baseball fan. Logistics: Parking lots are very expensive, but we didn't find it too difficult to find 2-hour street parking ($1/hour, you can pay by card at the meter or with the PayByPhone app; free on Sundays and holidays).

Rocky Mountain Arsenal National Wildlife Refuge (free, 20-30 mins from city center): This is a beautiful area in northeast Denver that you can drive through, listen to their excellent guided podcast, and spot some neat wildlife. The area is known for bison, deer, prairie dogs, and birds; we saw some of these animals. This was a great option to stay in our air-conditioned car on a very hot day, rather than being out for a hike. Logistics: There is a Visitor Center that you can stop by if you’d like (we didn’t), otherwise just download the Rocky Mountain Arsenal podcast on your phone and start the drive!

What to Eat (Vegetarian Edition)

We did not take advantage of Denver’s food options, so what we are sharing here are mostly recommendations from our friends / places we would love to try if we had more time here.

Safta (Mediterranean) - Upscale; close to downtown. Appears to have outdoor seating and advance reservations are recommended

Uchi (Japanese) - Upscale; close to downtown. Has a separate vegetarian menu including a multi-course tasting. Reservations can be hard to come by if you don’t book well in advance. They also accept walk-ins, and they do have outdoor seating if you’re COVID-conscious (or just like eating outside!)

Brunch places with hype: Snooze AM Eatery (multiple locations, get on the Yelp waitlist at least an hour in advance, known for excellent pancakes), Sassafrass (we didn’t try it), and Root Down (we also didn’t try it)

Markets: Denver Central Market (in RiNo), Edgewater Public Market (by Sloan Lake / Highlands neighborhood; we loved the crepes and thought the Ethiopian food was mediocre), Stanley Marketplace (Aurora)

Other places that were recommended to us were Ash Kara (Mediterranean), El Five (Mediterranean, good views), Sushi Den (Japanese), and Vital Root (which is apparently by a lot of good vegetarian-friendly restaurants + breweries near Berkeley/Tennyson Street), Sputnik

Dessert: I very much wanted to try High Point Creamery (multiple locations) as it seems to have many vegan options and an ice cream flight! Little Man Ice Cream also came recommended

Where to Stay

We're definitely not experts on this, but here are a few thoughts based on our trip!

Near Cheesman Park and Washington Park seem like a lovely areas to stay -- the parks are really nice and the surrounding neighborhoods seem pretty safe and upscale. We didn't come across any available airbnbs in this neighborhoods.

Greenwood Village (~20 mins drive south of Denver, close to Centennial, CO). We stayed in the Marriott Residence Inn Tech Center (the 2 bed/2 ba is good for two people working from home during the week) and loved the area. Within a 5 minute drive there are cute parks for a morning jog, plenty of fast casual eateries (we were partial to the Torchy's and Schlotzsky's nearby), and even the excellent Peak View Brewing Company (okay so it’s a brewery in a suburban strip mall, but the outdoor patio is great and the jalapeno pretzel and the peanut butter porter were a hit!). Whole Foods, Trader Joe's, and Safeway are within a ~10 minute drive.

[dreamingabouttaron]

The Assistant Part 15

You climbed into an empty lift and looked at yourself in the mirrored wall. You had applied a thin layer of make up and your hair was wavy, hanging neatly down beside your face. You look down at your pink silk dress that delicately hugged your body and sighed. The dress held a mixture of memories for you. You thought about the night you last wore it, when you had been with Taron. The way you thought he was going to kiss you and then left you hanging without a reason. Well, now I know his reason. You thought and rolled your eyes at yourself. How could you have been so stupid? 

You checked your phone to see the time. 7:30. Bang on time. The lift doors opened and you walked out into the busy lobby. You could hear your heels tapping lightly onto the marble floor beneath you as you walked over to Ben who was patiently waiting in the corner for you.

“Good evening.” You gently say, making your presence known.

Ben looked up for his phone and gasped, “Wow. You look… insane.” He bent down and kissed you on the cheek. You felt your cheek blush in response. You could feel your body start to wake up at his touch.

“Thank you. You don’t look too bad yourself.” He was dressed in a smart grey suit and a crisp white shirt. He had clearly made an effort for you. The thought made you smile. Before you met Taron you had been single for a while. Typical, you thought, nothing and then suddenly two come along at once. You were looking forward to getting to know Ben more. You felt like you couldn’t risk not getting to know him. It wasn’t as if you were tied to Taron, you were a single woman and you could do whatever you wanted. Even if that meant having flirting with two guys. If Bridget Jones could do it, why couldn’t you? For now.

“Are you ready to go?” He asked. You nodded in response and followed him out the hotel and down the road. You were only walking for a couple of minutes before you followed Ben into a local restaurant. The place was small and authentic. The walls were covered in exposed brick, the kitchen was open and you could watch the chefs cooking inside. You were shown over to a booth by the window. Fairy lights were hung neatly over the windows, obstructing the view, but giving a glowing-look to the whole venue. A waitress came over and handed you both menus with a gentle smile which you kindly received and scanned to discover it was an Italian restaurant.

“I hope this is okay for you. I wasn’t sure what you liked so I thought Italian would be a safe bet.” He anxiously scanned your face looking for an answer.

You reached your hand over the table to his. “It’s wonderful thank you. Who doesn’t like pizza?” You wanted to reassure him, especially after he had made such an effort for you. But his nerves were very clear to you. He smiled and lifted your hand up and placed a gentle kiss on your knuckles. 

The conversation was flowing with Ben. He made you laugh. It was easy to talk to him. You discovered a lot about his childhood and his family. As much as you loved getting to know him you couldn’t help but allow your mind to wander back to Taron. You thought about the way you both clicked when you went out for dinner, everything seemed to perfectly fall into place. You felt guilty feeling this way whilst sat on a date but you couldn’t help it. He was always at the forefront of your mind. No matter what you did, he was always there. At times it comforted you but at times like this, it was a hinderance.

You were sat talking with your drinks waiting for you food to arrive when you felt a breeze come through the main doors as a couple entered the restaurant. You felt a shiver run down your spine. You narrowed your forehead and watched the couples from behind. You watched the guy turn around to look into the restaurant. He looked over in your direction and caught eye contact with you. Taron. He looked pleased with himself. Smug. You watched him turn his attention back to Emily and the waitress before walking directly over to you and Ben. It was very clear to you that there was tension between him and Emily. He was walking steps in front of her leaving her trailing behind. She looked as if she had been crying. You frown in question at the sight.

“Well this looks cosy.” He stated and looked directly at you. You felt like a naughty child being caught doing something they shouldn’t. Taron signalled for you to budge up and sat on the bench next to you as Emily apologised to Ben and sat next to him. You looked at Ben and smiled apologetically. He nodded back at you, showing his understanding.

“What are you guys doing here?” You questioned the pair as you got comfortable in your new seat.

“Who doesn’t like pizza, eh?” Taron answered bluntly in response. You internally rolled your eyes.

“That’s funny. That’s exactly what Megan said earlier.” Ben recalled and looked between you and Taron.

“Oh really? Great minds think alike.” Taron confidently placed his arm on the top of the booth behind you making himself comfortable and winked in your direction. You knew what he was doing. “Nice dress. Looks good on you.” Taron said with a hint of risk in his voice, as he looked you up and down with raised eyebrows.

“Thank you.” You said through gritted teeth. You watched Taron call over a waitress who provided them with menus. You watched as Emily and Ben sparked up conversation. You momentarily closed your eyes and took in a deep breath trying to calm yourself down. He was suffocating you with his jealously. Your dress felt tight and you felt like you couldn’t breath.

“What’s the matter?” Taron asked quietly in your ear so that nobody else heard.

“Are you really asking me that?” You snapped quietly back as you calmed yourself down. You felt like you were on the verge of a panic attack.

“I told you I didn’t think going out with him would be a good idea.”

You scoffed. “Are you serious? You have no right to comment on this. How dare you ruin this for me?” You stopped when you noticed the waitress coming back over to take Emily and Taron’s order.

Once Taron and Emily’s drinks arrived, you all clinked glasses together and said a cheers for the evening to come. You mouthed an “I’m Sorry” to Ben from across the table when Emily and Taron both took a sip of their drinks. He reached his hand over the table to take yours and smiled. His touch was warm and it made you feel safe, you couldn’t hide the smile that appeared on your face. You instantly felt calmer. You watched Emily clock your entwined hands. Obviously, so did Taron. He readjusted the way he was sat and relaxed the arm that was on the back of the seat placing it on your leg under the table so that nobody else could see. You jumped at his touch. How dare he?!

“I’m going to pop to the bathroom. I’ll be back in a moment.” You announced whilst brushing Taron’s hand off and pulling yourself up. You looked at Taron asking him to set you free from the booth so that you could leave. You gave him a look of warning before you walked off.

In the bathroom you stood over the wash basins and contained your frustration. You couldn’t believe this situation that you were in. You felt trapped. You didn’t know how to get out. You needed some air. Space to breath. Everything felt like it was tumbling out from your control.

Emily slowly opened the bathroom door and walked over to you. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry that we have interrupted your evening. I, somehow, managed to let it slip that you were going out with Ben tonight. And then Taron was suddenly insistent on going out for dinner for my last night. I didn’t know this was where you were going to be.” You looked at her and smiled sympathetically. You knew this wasn’t her fault. She hasn’t done anything wrong, you just wished she hadn’t said anything to Taron but she didn’t know he was being protective over you. “Should I say I don’t feel well and then get Taron to take me home?” Emily asked.

“No, please don’t do that. It’s fine. We can just... double date.” You insisted, you watched a twinge of pain strike across Emily’s face. “Are you okay? You look like you’ve been crying.”

Emily looked at herself in the mirror, her eyes looked puffy and red. She couldn’t hide the sadness that hid behind her eyes. “I’m fine, we just had an argument before we left. Anyway, come on we should probably get back to them, shouldn’t we?” Emily took your hand and led you back out to the restaurant without any hesitation. You knew something was up and she was clearly avoiding the subject but you didn’t want to pry. You knew this evening wasn’t going to be fun but you had to get through it.

When you arrived back at the table; yours and Ben’s food had arrived. You squeezed back into the booth and looked at your food. You had ordered a Mediterranean pizza which was covered in roasted vegetables. It smelt and looked incredible. You felt your mouth water at the smell.

“This looks wonderful. Ben, yours looks great too.” You tried to focus your attention on him as you started to eat your food.

“I wish I’d ordered that now.” Taron announced. You looked at him as you took your first bite. “Can I have a bit?” Unbelievable. Just as you were about to reply, Taron took the slice of pizza out your hand and took a large bite.

“Do you mind?” You felt slightly annoyed. “This is my food. Yours is coming!”

“Joey doesn’t share food.” Taron joked creating a laugh from Emily and Ben. “Oh, you know I’m only winding you up.” He placed a quick kiss on your cheek in a playful tone but you knew deep down it had more meaning. He was warning Ben off again. Marking his territory. Not that you were his to claim.

You were half way through eating your food when the other couples food arrived. The conversation kept flowing. You were glad there weren’t any awkward silences. You couldn’t deal with that right now. You just wanted this evening to be over.

“Did you want a slice of mine?” Taron asked, you raised your eyebrow at him. “As an apology for being a dick and taking your food.” You giggled and took a slice of his without hesitation.

“Thank you.” You said as you took a bite of his pizza.

“What’s mine is yours.” He offered and happily continued to eat.

As you all finished your food you felt Taron’s hand place itself back on your leg. Edging further and further up your thigh, slightly raising your dress up. It send sparks through your body. It felt naughty, risky and wrong but you liked having it there. You looked up at Taron. He had an eyelash sat on his cheek. You brushed his hand off our leg and then raised your hand and collected the eyelash.

“Make a wish…” You held your finger out for him to blow the eyelash away. He closed his eyes and blew it away leaving a tiny bit of spit on your finger.

“Urgh, Gross!” You wiped your finger on his shoulder in disgust; creating a laugh from Ben and Taron. You looked up to see Emily watching you both with a questioning look on her face, you pulled yourself away from Taron and smacked yourself internally for your actions.

“Right, anyone for dessert?” Ben asked. Of course Taron jumped at the opportunity. He jumped up and collected menus for you all. 

As a group you decided to get a chocolate fondue with fresh fruit to share. You all talked and laughed as your faces all got covered in chocolate. You were glad the energy of the evening had shifted. As you ate, you couldn’t help but steal glances at Taron, and it was easy to feel the glances that Taron was stealing in return.

Once you finished, Ben and Taron decided to split the bill before leading you and Emily out of the restaurant. You walked with your arm linked with Ben’s. He was being a gentleman. Ben insisted on walking you back to your room. As you approached your room, Ben was surprised to see how close yours and Taron room were. You could see that Ben was lingering around wanting to speak to you alone, but you didn’t want to invite him inside incase he got the wrong idea. You wished Emily would open the door quicker so that you didn’t have Taron breathing down your neck watching your every move. Once she finally opened the door, you released an inaudible sigh.

“Goodnight Megan. I’ll text you tomorrow about shopping arrangements. Nice to meet you Ben.” Emily called as she entered the room. You watched Taron’s intense eyes as he slowly walked towards his room.

“See you soon mate.” Taron said as he patted Ben on the back a little too hard, causing Ben’s body to jut forward. “Goodnight Megan.” Taron said as he brushed his hand past your shoulder before closing the door behind him. You just knew that he was still standing watching from behind the door. A constant presence.

“I’m sorry about this evening. I’m really sorry it got interrupted.” You made sure that your voice was low so that only Ben could hear.

“Hey, it’s not your fault. I’ve enjoyed it. It’s nice to see how close you are with Taron. You guys get along really well. It must be great working for someone like him.”

“Well…” You looked at Taron’s bedroom door. “It’s been an adventure.”

You felt Ben’s body get closer to your as you spoke causing your breath to hitch. His arms wrapped delicately around your waist. You felt yourself panic slightly, adrenaline souring around your body. You could tell he was going in for a kiss but you weren’t sure if it was the right thing to do. Especially with Taron watching on. Ben’s face got closer to yours, you felt his breath on your lips. You both paused in this position for a while, eyes closed, foreheads touching, hearts beating fast. Just as he was about to kiss your lips, you decided the best thing to do was to lean up and kiss Ben’s cheek.

“Thank you. I’ll see you soon.” The words stumbled quickly out of your mouth as you pulled yourself away and brushed your dress back down.

Ben nodded and kissed your cheek in return. “I’ll see you soon Megan.”

You watched him as he walked back down the corridor. You felt guilty for not allowing him to kiss you but you knew it wasn’t the right thing to do especially when your head was all over the place. 

You smiled and waved at him when he turned back around to look at you once last time. You let yourself in your room and fell onto the bed in exhaustion just as you received a text from Taron. You picked up your phone and read the message.

You’ve been a very naughty girl. T x

Tag list - 

@hitmeonmytspot @primaba11erina @fuseburner @autumnslovex @huathmoon94 

If anyone else would love to be added to the tag list, let me know. 

Thank you! xx

[neo-culture-taste]

Subscribe! - Lie Detector Test

Pairing: Yuta x Reader (fem)

Genre: AU, romance, comedy, fluff

Word count: 2849

Summary: A YouTube inspired drabble series where you and your boyfriend upload videos catering to the couple tag.

For other members, see masterlist.

"What's up, everybody!" you happily greeted your viewers at the beginning of the video. You and your boyfriend were seated side by side at your kitchen table with a brown box placed in between the two of you. "It's Y/N and Yuta doing something dumb on the internet for attention again." 

Yuta sputtered a laugh at your blunt but true statement. "Tell them what we're doing today," he told you and placed his hand on top of the box. 

"They already know what we're doing because of the title of the video and because--" your eyes traveled down to look at your boyfriend's hand on the box and you gasped. "Oh shit, I never opened it!" You sprung up from your seat and rushed to a nearby drawer in your kitchen to retrieve a pair of scissors.

Your boyfriend looked at you off camera in disbelief. "You didn't do that yet?" he asked, incredulous. 

"I forgot," you said and you dug around inside the drawer of random junk. "You saw the box there! Why didn't you say anything?"

"I thought you pre-opened it--AH!" Yuta yelped and he quickly moved his hand away from the table as it was almost impaled by the scissors you haphazardly tossed to him. "That's dangerous! I almost lost my whole arm!" he cried, clutching his shoulder with his other hand. "I should sue you!"

"Just hurry up and open the box," you said. You could be heard closing the drawer and making your way back to the table.

He picked up the scissors and began carefully slicing into the tape sealing the edges of the box. "Do you even know how many batteries we need for it?" He opened the top of the box then took out the product that was still sealed inside its own packaging. He stopped right before scissoring into that when he realized you hadn't answered him nor had you returned to sit next to him at the table. The video zoomed in on his face as he locked eyes with you still off camera, and the kitchen drawer could be heard reopening. "Y/N, really?!" You answered him by throwing a four pack of batteries at his chest, but you missed your target and the pack went over your boyfriend and the table completely. "Hey! I have the weapon now!" He held the scissors out in self defense  and pointed it at you as if it were a sword. The video zoomed in and the picture shook as he swiftly scissored the air in front of him to accentuate his point.

"We are such bad influences," you laughed and made your way back to the seat next to him. 

Yuta redirected his scissor sword towards the camera. "Don't play with scissors, kids."

"Don't point it at them!"

"Oh, whoops. Haha," he laughed and quickly put the scissors down onto the table before the video cut to the next clip. 

"Ok, so," you began. "This is a lie detector and we're going to take turns asking each other questions and see who's telling the truth or not. You know how lie detectors work. Let's play!"

"We tested this thing out a minute ago and it really hurts when you lie. So no matter how juicy the question is, it's best to tell the truth so you don't get hurt."

"I don't have anything to hide so you're the only one worried about that," you taunted with a smug smile. 

"Are you calling me a liar?"

"I dunno. We're about to find out. Put your hand on the thingy!" Yuta rolled his eyes but did what he was told and securely fastened his hand to the lie detector. You cleared your throat exaggeratedly and resituated yourself in your seat. "I'll start off with an easy one. Do you think I'm pretty without makeup?" You asked him then pressed the button on the lie detector to start measuring his answer. 

"Pshh," your boyfriend blew air between his teeth. "That is an easy one. Of course," he said with all confidence. 

Ding! Truth.

"Aw, baby~," you cooed. He presented his cheek to you with a playful smile and the batting of his eyelashes, and you accepted his offer, placing a loud smooch on the side of his face.

"My turn!" He quickly unstrapped his hand and waited for you to strap yourself in before asking his question. "Do you think any of my friends," he paused for dramatic effect, "look better than me?" 

You didn't even have time to process his question before he pushed the button. "I gave you an easy one!" you complained. 

"That doesn't mean I have to go easy on you. Hurry up an answer."

"Okay, then. Yes." 

"What!?"

Ding! Truth.

You relaxed in your seat, your body having tensed up in preparation for the sudden shockwave but it never came. You had only said 'yes' to get back at Yuta for asking such a loaded question. You didn't think the toy would say you were telling the truth. You flashed Yuta a nervous smile and he simply nodded with his tongue in his cheek. 

"Yeah, okay. That's fine." He unstrapped your hand from the device and replaced it with his own. "I think they look better than you, too."

You laughed out loud and leaned your head against his shoulder. "I really thought it would have caught me lying. This thing isn't accurate."

"Nah, you meant what you said," he said in mock offense. 

"It’s your fault for asking!" you defended and picked up your head. "But since you wanna play dirty. Do you wish I had bigger boobs?" you asked and pressed the button with lightning speed. 

"This is still an easy one," he boasted. "Of course I don't. I think everything about you is perf--"

Bzzt! Lie. 

"Ow, fuck!" Yuta's body jerked violently in his seat and his hand lifted the whole lie detector off of the table despite it being suction cupped. 

You doubled over laughing, not having expected such a reaction like that from him. When the two of you tested out the device before the game, you had it on the medium setting. But right before you started you switched it to the highest it could go. "That's what you get! I knew you thought my boobs weren't big enough!"

"No! They're the perfect size!"

"Then why did it say you were lying?"

He smiled. "Well, I mean, there's always room for growth."

You exaggerated a gasp. "How dare!"

"You wanted to play this game," he said as he put the lie detector back onto the table. "Dang, I really need to get you with this next one. That hurt like hell."

"You're not gonna get anything but the truth from me," you said after strapping your hand in. 

"Yeah, sure. We'll see." He took a moment to think of his next question. "Have you ever had a dream that you were with someone else?" he asked and pushed the button.

Your eyes went to the ceiling in search of your answer as you tried to recall a time when this happened. "Umm...pfft," you suddenly began to giggle. "Yeah, I did."

Ding! Truth. 

Yuta squinted his eyes at you in a fake scowl as you took your hand away but ended up laughing when you gave the same look back at him. "I knew you were a cheater!" he playfully accused you. 

"That's not cheating! I was asleep! Plus, celebrities don't count."

"A cele--Which one?!"

"That's not important right now," you said moving the game along. "Your next question is: Have you looked at someone else's butt while we were together?"

"Nope," he said with emphasized phonetics on the 'p'.

Bzzt! Lie. 

His body spasmed once more but this time he held his ground and kept the device attached to the table. "Aw, c'mon!" You bemusedly shook your head at your boyfriend as you watched him take back his hand and rub his palm. "It wasn't on purpose!"

"No, I get it. Their cheek game was too strong to not look."

"Hell yeah, it was," he added and your face fell as you glared at your boyfriend. He looked back at you in faux innocence and waited for you to get ready. "Have you ever thought about breaking up with me," he continued the game with another loaded question."

"Yeah," you sassed him and stuck out your tongue.

Bzzt! Lie. 

You screamed and held on to your boyfriend with your free hand as your body thrashed in your seat. "Oh my gosh! Are you okay?!" Yuta asked you through his laughter but with genuine concern. He unwrapped your hand and held close to his chest with his own. "Why'd you say that if it was a lie?"

You righted yourself in your seat and pouted at your self inflicted injury. "Cuz I wasn't lying!"

"What?! When did you want to break up with me?"

"You know that one time you ate my leftovers from that Mediterranean restaurant we went to--" 

Yuta's face deadpanned and he let go of your hand. "Wow. Really, Y/N?"

"I was really looking forward to eating them later, but the opportunity was robbed from me!"

"Well, I have no idea what you're talking about and I don't appreciate being blamed for such a heinous crime." Yuta said with mock arrogance and readied himself for your next question.

You pressed the button before you even asked your question. "Did you eat my food?"

"Y/N!" Yuta said frantically.

"Answer me!"

"No! I didn't!"

Bzzt! Lie. 

Yuta's entire body shook as he tried to overcome the shockwave that rippled through him. "Ah ha!" you exclaimed and stood up from your seat, finger pointed at the caught culprit. "You're a liar and a thief!"

Your boyfriend batted your hand away from him and laughed before addressing the camera.

"Yeah, I ate it."

"Hmpf," you huffed and sat back down in your seat to prepare for his next question. 

"Have you ever missed or wanted to get back with your ex?"

"Yeah. Right now and when you stole my food," you said with a fake edge to your voice and pressed the button yourself. 

Bzzt! Lie. 

Yuta saw the led lights change to red on the front of the device and swiftly grabbed your free hand before it shocked you, allowing you to squeeze the life out of him as you bared the short, but effective pain. "Fuck it! I don't wanna play anymore!"

"I got shocked more than you did!"

"That's not my problem!"

"We can't stop now. The video won't be long enough. Here." He removed your hand from the lie detector and turned a dial on the side of it. "I put it on the lowest shock setting so it won't hurt you anymore."

"Thank you," you said but continued to pout in your seat. Yuta couldn't resist how cute you looked with the way your bottom lip slightly protruded outward and placed a sweet kiss against it. "Don't try to redeem yourself," you told him with a smile that said otherwise. He rolled his eyes and gestured for you to continue with the game. "Am I your most favorite person in the whole wide world?"

"So we're going back to easy questions?" he asked. "Of course you are."

Ding! Truth. 

"Ooo, wait until I tell your mom her birthday card was a lie."

The video zoomed in on Yuta's face while his brows furrowed in confusion for a moment before his eyes widened as he remembered the exact words he wrote inside his mother's card. "Oh, my gosh. Please don't!"

"I won't have to. She'll find out when she watches this video," you said lightheartedly and replaced his hand with yours on the toy. 

Your boyfriend faced forward and smiled sheepishly at the camera. "Sorry, mom," he said with a shrug before asking his next question. "Am I the best boyfriend you've ever had?"

You puckered your lips playfully as if you have to think about it. "Hmmmmm, yes. The bar is set pretty low, though," you joked. 

"Hey!"

Bzzt! Lie. 

"Ow!" you yelled, but only jumped slightly in your seat as the shock was significantly weaker than the previous turns. "I wasn't lying this time!"

"Oh, so you were actually lying before?" he inquired with narrow eyes. 

You hesitated. "Y-yea?" You'd been joking around so much, you didn't remember what was a lie and what wasn't. 

"Are you lying right now?" he asked then pressed the button again on the lie detector before you had the chance to remove your hand from it. 

You looked him straight in the eyes and answered, "I might be."

Bzzt! Lie. 

You closed your eyes as your body jolted and muttered a slew of choice words under your breath, all to your boyfriend's amusement. "Stop laughing at me! Strap yourself in!" He did the second thing you said but he didn't stop snickering at your expense. "Do you think I'm a good kisser?"

Yuta's eyebrows flew up in surprise. "So now we're getting to the juicy questions, huh?"

"I'm pressing the button now," you said ignoring him. 

"Oh, yeah," he smirked. "You're the best when it comes to using--" You shot him a look, warning him not to say anything too lewd about you in front of the camera. "K-Kissing… When it comes to kissing," he said, managing to save himself.

Ding! Truth. 

"And not the French kind. Ew, nay!" he added afterwards, causing you to sputter into laughter. "Okay. This is my last question," he said when you were done fastening your hand down. "Have you ever," he paused for dramatic effect one last time, "faked it with me?"

You blinked slowly, dumbfounded by the sheer audacity of your boyfriend to ask you that in front of a camera. But you couldn't say you didn't expect it from him. Still feeling playful, you pretended to be oblivious to what he asked you. "Faked what? Faked that I actually like you? Yeah, I'm faking right now."

Yuta rolled his eyes again and scoffed. "Don't even try to pretend to be innocent. You know what I mean." He pushed the button and waited for your response. 

"I don't have to fake that with you," you told him with a telling smile.

Ding! Truth. 

A toothy grin slowly spread its way across your boyfriend's face as he looked at you in the seat next to him. "Hey, what are you doing after this?" He asked you as if he were trying to pick you up in a nightclub. "I wanna put that to the test." Oh, gosh. He could be so greasy sometimes. 

"Editing this video," you stated matter-of-factly. 

"Damn," was all he said before the video cut to the next clip. 

"That's all we have for today," you said, clapping your hands together in front of you. 

"Because Y/N is a wimp and can't take being electrocuted."

"Well, yeah!" you defended. 

"It's not even real electricity!"

"It still hurts! Plus we can't do all the questions now. We won't have anything for the next time we play this."

"You actually want to do this again?" he asked surprised. 

"Yeah, this thing was like twenty-five dollars."

"Oh." The two of you were definitely going to get your money's worth. 

"So," you began addressing the audience once more, "If you want to see us play this again, leave some questions we can ask each other down in the comments."

"Maybe your question will be the one to break us up," Yuta added with a chuckle and placed his arm around your shoulder. 

"Nah," you dismissed him. "This is all in fun. Plus, this thing is a toy version of the real deal." You held up the hunk of plastic and then not so gently dropped it back down onto the table—right after you finished complaining about its price. "We didn't take anything it confirmed seriously. So, do that, like this video, subscribe to our channel if you haven't already, follow us on social media…" You trailed off, counting on your fingers to see if you've said everything already or left something out.

"Turn on post notifications," Yuta reminded you. 

"Turn on post notifications!" You repeated it even though you didn't have to. "And we can't wait to see you in our next video. I can't tell you what it is now because Yuta isn't supposed to know about it." The next video you had in mind was a kind of sexy prank you were secretly going to do on your boyfriend to see how he would react. So, you had to leave him completely in the dark about it. "It's a surprise."

His head snapped to look at you in shock and confusion. "Wait, what?"

"You'll see," you said with a sickeningly sweet smile on your face and followed it with a kiss on the tip of his nose. 

Now he definitely knew something was up. 

- D

[the-steve-stevenson-experience]

Dress For Where You Are Going, Not For Where You've Been

Day 2:

I don't think I slept very well. There's air conditioning in the bedrooms, so that wasn't an issue. The curfew is 10pm weeknights and 12midnight on weekends, so after 12 there wasn't any of golf cart noise. And those little fuckers are noisy. I woke up early, like 6am and really couldn't get back to sleep. I stayed in bed trying for like an hour, but finally just got up. I made coffee and sat out on the balcony. The chairs that are out here are not super comfortable, but are ok. Like I couldn't sit out there for hours. Which is good, because I could sit out there for hours, if you know what I mean. I wanted to try some place for breakfast, so I walked the block to the beach, there is a nice beach right there with no wall and the two piers on either side are a good distance apart. I stood at the corner of the road and the beach pondering which way I should go.

(My directions are all screwed up here. My window faces east. In my head I should be facing south. I don't compensate for the fact the country is long and thing, and runs north and south. The cay that I'm on also runs north and south. I am basically at the top of the Caribbean Sea, top being north of course)

This kid walks by, and I ask him where there is a good place for breakfast. He tells me of a place, and points down the beach. He then says, walk with me I'll take you there. So we walk. And we talk. He just moved to San Pedro from Corozal, a small village in the north, near Mexico. He was working and going to school. He decided to move here for work, and to continue school. He then tells me that he was robbed at gunpoint and had nothing. Then Covid hits, and the jobs went away. And, I'm thinking that he was gonna hit me up for money. He then tells me that he met some guy who let him stay in one of his vacant houses, and gave him food, and some money, and how he is really thankful for people like that. So, now I'm thinking he won't hit me up for money.

(One thing I learned when I was in Mexico was that people will often times help you out by taking you somewhere, finding something, talking to people for you, or whatever. There are nice people first and foremost, but they are also acting as a concierge. And, it is appropriate to send a little cash their way)

Which reminds me, I want to give the Chief of Security something for his time. Me and Denerik walk to a place on the beach called Jambel Jerk Pit. Now, those Americans with a 14 boy mind will think that name is funny, but the food is good, and that bartender made a great mango smoothy. I had the chicken and pork combo jerk. Oh, and I did give Denerik a couple bucks Belize for his time. He seemed a bit suprised that I offered. He, you do something for me and I'm able, I'll take care of you. Well, take care of might be a strong phrase. I won't let you die, is more accurate. The jobs aren't back yet. Some are. This giant new resort, Aria, just opened and hired 200-300 locals. He told me about it and is trying to get on with them. The woman who did my mani-pedi and massage also told me about it. I haven't heard a bad word about the place so far.

(There are still a lot of people out of work here. That's why it seems like I get hit up for cash a lot. Really, only twice in a few days. I get more than that in Denver)

It's not very busy or crowded here. There are no waits to do anything. A lot of places are pretty empty, but they are open. They aren't desperate, but the do kind of clamor for your business. I get people who will come out onto the beach and talk to me about coming into their business. They pitch you from their patios. They are like carnival barkers trying to get your attention. I was told that San Pedro had only one reported case of Covid. This whole country is taking it seriously though. Everyone wears a mask in public, and by public I mean unless you in your house, or sitting at a table in a restaurant, you are wearing a mask. They have a curfew in place, but things are moving into the open.

I did go and get that pedicure I've been wanting. I had a mani-pedi not too long ago, but it needed done again. I also got a massage. It was in this little joint out over the ocean. A nice breeze was blowing through, and she did a great job on all of it. They recommended a place for dinner. I was asking about what's Belizean food, and the dude told me that Belizean food is based on Mayan food. So, plantains, rice and beans, seafoods of course, cole slaw, potatoes, coconut, deer and even iguana meat. Haven't seen any of that yet. I will try it if I see it. This is Kriol food. I made plans to eat at the place they recommended.

Speaking of restaurants. Most places seem to have a Jamaican, Mexican, and American (read as US) influence. I've seen fried pickles on almost every menu. Jerked food is very common here. And, tacos and burritos are also. The whole tortilla, tamale, ceviche and other "Mexican" dishes are most likely common to this part of the world. Much like a lot of countries surrounding the Mediterranean sea have very similar foods, especially the southern Med.

I spent too much money in a gift shop. I needed some shirts because I forgot I owned any tank tops and didn't bring them. I needed a swim suit, again because I forgot the ones I already own. I normally don't do touristy shit, but today, I bout a few shirts with catchy, funny little phrases and Belize on them. I can't not look like a tourist here, so I'm not worrying too much about it.

(On my way back to the condo I was approached by some dude. He kept asking me if I wanted any. I finally looked him. He was asking if I wanted any while grabbing his crotch. I asked, "want any what?" I said, I was good, and he left)

I took my too much shit back to the condo, and then started walking to dinner. I can figure directions out pretty well, so I decided to find my own way there. Besides I couldn't remember the name. I knew kind of where it was, and I would know the name when I saw it. And, I didn't exactly get lost, but I did walk down some streets that a lot of tourists probably don't walk down. After walking around a bit, I found it, El Fogon. I had salbutes, like little tostadas, fried corn tortilla with tomato chicken, cole slaw, and a jalapeno. I also got the shrimp creole. It was all very good.

[mypassionfortrash]

Nothing Serious (Part Nine)

You join Roger in Montreux as Queen prepare to record their next album, and spend time exploring the city... and each other.

Pairing: Roger Taylor x f!reader Warnings: Filth, daddy kink, STRICTLY 18+ Notes: I forgot about this. Sorry. If you like this fic, please reblog it!

💫 CATCH UP HERE! 💫

Tags: @jennyggggrrr​​​; @sarahgurl09​​​; @sunshine112​; @biscuit-barrel​; @sitonmyhot-seatoflove​; @jhoemazzellhoe​; @justgivemethekeys​; @qweenly​; @picturepowderinabottle​

You and Roger sat in the back of the car in stunned silence. You had your nosed pressed up against the glass, admiring the view of Lac Leman. 

Roger admired you admiring the view. 

From the snowy peaks of the alps on the French side, to the cobbled streets and cosy bars in Lausanne, Vevey and Clarens, you were positively enthralled on the journey from Geneva Airport to Montreux. 

You and Roger didn’t even have to make proper, joined up conversation. All he had to do was listen to your awe struck outbursts, pointing out yet another feature he had probably seen many times before on his way to Mountain Studios. Every now and again, he’d give your fingers a supportive squeeze, letting you know that he heard you.

There was something about Montreux alone; above all the other towns you passed on your journey. Something magical. Something that you just couldn’t put your finger on. It made your fears disappear and your worries drift away; home felt like a distant memory. It soothed you with blue skies, and sprawling lake views, and mediterranean-looking buildings with pastel facades and ornate balconies. 

“We’re almost there.”

You turned to Roger, planting a chaste kiss on his cheek. “This is more beautiful than you said.”

“We should go exploring later,” he said, brushing his fingers over your thigh. “There’s a lot of nice little bars and restaurants here. We’ll be staying a block away from the studio. Right about… here,” he said nodding towards a block of bright yellow apartments with stacks of generous balconies. To your right, they offered sprawling lake views against a backdrops of snow-tipped mountains. To your left, you had to crane your neck just to spy the top of the densely-populated hillside.

“Oh,” you sighed, admiring the building and all its exquisite views, “it’s stunning.”

“They really are. You can’t beat a bottle of wine and watching the sun set from up there.”

“It’s perfect for it,” you said, getting out of the car and opening the boot, much to your chauffeur’s dismay. “It’s fine, I’ve got this,” you told him, carting your luggage out and on to the pavement.

“She’s got it,” Roger laughed, taking his own suitcases. “Thank you.”

Standing at the door to the building, you and Roger exchanged excited glances and bolstering sighs, before linking your fingers together. Wandering into the lobby, the atmosphere struck you. It looked and smelled like money and excess and opulence, with shiny slate grey flooring and clean white walls. There were no chandeliers or gold trims. It was a modern kind of rich. A sickening, classy kind of rich. That you actually kind of liked. 

A petite, brunette receptionist greeted you both: “Bonjour Monsieur Taylor. Et Madame.”

“Bonjour, Gaudine,” Roger said, wandering over to the desk. “Do you have my key?”

“Oui – voila!” she said, handing Roger the key. “We’ve cleaned the apartment and it’s ready for your stay. We have put champagne in your fridge and done a bit of shopping so that you have everything you need. If you need anything, just call.”

“Merci beaucoup, Gaudine,” Roger smiled, placing his hand at the small of your back and leading you towards the lift.

You pressed the button and the door slid open in a moment of slick convenience. When the pair of you got inside, you slumped against opposite sides of the compartment, swapping wild grins. You could tell from the way Roger’s eyes devoured every detail of your body that he was dreaming up everything he was going to do to you once you got to the flat. 

Roger chewed his lip. His breath laboured. Pinpricks of desire seared from his chest to his cheeks, flushing him a delightful shade of pink. As the lift ascended, so did his need and his lust. And when the door finally pinged open, he grabbed your arm and hauled you down the corridor towards the flat. 

Discarding your bags at the door, you pounced on him, sending his back flying against the wall.

But he was swift to take control, turning around and hiking your thighs up around his waist making you cling to him for dear life. “You didn’t put your knickers back on, did you?” he purred in your ear. 

You were too busy undoing his jeans to answer him; his cock already stood at attention, thick, intimidating and ready to slip into the next available hole.

“You dirty girl.” Slipping his cock through your pink, swollen folds, Roger pushed into you. 

Feverish and urgent, you ground your hips against his grasp as you gasped at being filled so deliciously again. The sharp, snappy rhythm he settled into made you clench around him.

“What are you Kitten?” Roger growled.

In the throes of delirium, you couldn’t find the words to respond to him. You could only bear to focus on his cock, pumping away at you. In deep, wet passes, he bottomed out inside you time and time again. Your fingers clawed at his shoulders, and his neck, and his hair to find something to cling on to to steady yourself. But he was all the support you needed with his body pressed tight against you. He was all over you.

His chin nestled into your neck, biting down on your skin, rougher and more ravenously with each thrust. “Touch yourself for me, Kitten,” he growled in your ear. “I want to feel that tight  cunt of yours milking my cock when you come.”

If those words of his were enough to shoot sparks of bliss straight between your legs, then god knows what your fingers coupling with his efforts might do to you, you thought as you mindlessly started to draw circles over your clit. An almighty whine escaped you. So loud that you prayed the walls were thick enough to stop the neighbours hearing. And then another. And another. You had to fight to stifle them on Roger’s neck as wave after wave of pleasure ripped through your aching body as you tried to stay clinging to Roger. Quiet whimpers, of “yes Daddy,” or, “right there, Daddy,” were absorbed by the collar of his shirt. And that only made his movements more purposeful as you writhed uncontrollably.

“Good girl,” he coaxed. “Come for me, Kitten. Come for Daddy.”

You frantically rubbed and rubbed until your cunt milked Roger’s cock for every drop of cum he could fill you with.

Roger had to prop you up until you caught your breath and regained some semblance of control.

“You alright, darling?” he chuckled, kissing your forehead.

“Yes, Daddy–Roger! Sorry,” you sighed, smoothing down your dress and clenching your thighs together.

Roger shook his head with a smirk. “We’ll be having more of than now we’re out here. And I love it when you get all awkward on me, Kitten,” he said, fixing your hair for you. “The bathroom’s  there on your right. Clean yourself up and I’ll show you the rest of the flat.”

“Yeah,” you said dreamily, sauntering through to the bathroom. You locked the door behind you and eyed yourself in the mirror with a jolt of horror. Had you really walked through Geneva airport with your hair sticking up in all directions and your mascara caked underneath your eyes? Or the buttons on your dress all askew and misaligned? And those mysterious stains at the back? You clearly hadn’t done as good a job of cleaning yourself up on the plane as you thought you had. And why didn’t Roger tell you? “Fuck,” you laughed to yourself, dragging out a tuft of tissues and bending over the sink to get a better view of your misplaced makeup.

You swiped the tissues underneath your eyes, smearing the thick black gunk off your face. And then you turned your attention towards the rest of your body. Flying had a habit of drying out your skin and making you feel like the grossest thing on two legs; you could practically feel the slurry of germs that crawled all over your body.

In the corner of the room, by the back window that looked out on to the alpine view, stood a sparkling red bath tub. It called out to you, promising that you could be clean in no time.

“Roger!” you shouted.

You heard shuffling coming from outside the bathroom door. “Yes, Kitten?”

“Can you go through my bags and get me something nice to wear and my wash bag please?”

“Of course, darling.”

“Thanks,” you said, flicking off the lock on the door. Setting about throwing off your dress and your bra, you leaned over the tub and put the tap on, sending water cascading into it. Above the tub, there were columns of black and white shelves, stocked with all the expensive looking lotions and potions anyone could ever need. You saw one interesting looking jar, like something out of a sweet shop, bearing the label, ‘pine and patchouli bath salts.’ That would do. You grabbed the bottle and dumped a capful into the boiling hot water. And then went back to eying up the rest of Roger’s accoutrements.

It turned out he was a big fan of lavender and sage, too; you grabbed the soap and the lotion, not caring if they matched your bath salts. And then the bubble bath. How could you forget that? Throwing a generous splodge into the water, you looked down, like a witch admiring her brew, as the bubbles doubled.

“I see you’ve found my spa stash,” a voice from behind you chuckled.

You turned to find Roger laying out towels and a set of pyjamas on the bench at the bathroom door. 

“Sorry, I  needed something after that flight. I haven’t forgotten what you told me about what Steven Tyler gets up to in that plane.”

“Those salts are fantastic when my shoulders are acting up,” he commented with a nod towards the sweetie bottle.

“Do you want to join me, Daddy?” you asked. You felt emboldened again, running your hands up Roger’s chest, making sure you squeezed his aching shoulders. They were still tense, but surely not out of sexual frustration, you thought to yourself. 

“Could do with a quick dunk,” Roger shrugged. He watched as your fingers unfastened the buttons on his shirt one by one. His voice shook from the contact. “Why don’t I get that lovely bottle of champagne from the fridge?”

“Be quick,” you warned, giving him a pat on his bare chest. “I’m not done with you yet, Daddy.”

Roger moved faster than you had ever seen him go, taking him all of thirty seconds to pluck the bottle of champagne from the fridge and locate a couple of glasses in the kitchen, before he returned to find you already sitting comfortably in the tub, stretching out your legs under a blanket of soft, heady bubbles. 

“Do you want to do the honours, Kitten?” he asked, handing you the bottle.

“Don’t mind if I do, Daddy,” you purred, taking it from his grasp. You watched with your hand wrapped tightly around the neck of the bottle as Roger shuffled out of the rest of his clothes, sporting the beginnings of yet another hard on, and stepped into the tub in front of you. You flicked your eyes to his as you bit your lip, sending a visible shiver through him. That raging confidence you had in the beginning was back with a vengeance and nothing was going to stop you from making your time in Montreux as memorable, and as debauched, as you could. “Ready, Daddy?”

Roger woke up in a pile of white silk sheets. The sheer curtain billowed into the room in smoky swathes in time to the cool lakeside breeze, wafting wisps for freshly brewed coffee into the room. He groaned, propping himself up on his elbows to take in the sight of the empty room. You were nowhere to be seen. The culprit for all of his aches and pains, bestowed upon him the night before, was gone. “Darling?” he groaned, sitting upright and scratching his chest. His head pounded and his vision hadn’t quite acclimatised to seeing daylight. “You there?”

Shuffling came from the balcony, then you peeked into the room. Only half of your body was visible to him, as you leaned against the door frame. 

“Good morning, Daddy.”

Roger’s lips curled into a devilish smirk. The thoughts of everything you got up to on your first night together in Montreux raced through his brain so vividly that his hips got the message straight away. He tilted his head back and eyed you through his lashes as you stepped into the room. “Good morning, Kitten,” he purred.

Perching at the end of the bed, you dragged a hand up Roger’s leg over the sheets. “How are you feeling this morning?”

“Sore,” he laughed, giving his shoulder a rub.

You pouted and pondered. “Let me get you a lovely big cup of coffee and I’ll help you work out all those aches and pains,” you said, continuing to massage Roger’s leg.

“That sounds lovely, darling, thank you.”

You wandered back through to the balcony and poured Roger some coffee. So enthralled by your surroundings, the cup almost overflowed. From the way the mid morning sun shimmered over the lake to the snowy peaks of the mountains. This was heaven. And it felt a million miles away from home – and Ibiza. You relished that feeling of giddy optimism as you carried the cup back through to the bedroom to find that Roger was missing.

“Where are you, Roggie?” you called, peering out into the hall.

“Brushing my teeth,” Roger responded through a mouthful of toothpaste. He spat so he could speak more clearly. “And making myself more presentable for you, my love.”

“Don’t be too long,” you grinned, settling down among the covers.

When he arrived back at the bedroom, he hobbled towards you, clutching his aching hip, and pressing at the small of his back. His hair was mussed and messy, and he wore nothing but a short, silk, tiger print robe. And his circular glasses sat daintily perched on the bridge of his nose. He looked exhausted, but that didn’t stop you from eagerly patting the space beside you and thrusting the cup of coffee into his hands to get started on the fun part of your morning. 

You slunk behind him, wrapping your legs around his body and pressing your chest to his back, dragging the fine layer of material from his body. It slipped down his arms, leaving his top half completely naked under your touch. 

Tension radiated from Roger’s body as he sank another mouthful of rich, black coffee to stifle his nerves. 

Your fingertips pressed against either side of his back, where his shoulders met his neck and he moaned in bliss. “Sore there?” you asked.

“Mmm, I’m really showing my age, aren’t I?” he laughed.

“Lucky for you, I think there’s something about senior citizens I find particularly alluring,” you joked, working at the knots on his shoulders.

“Fat wallets?”

“Well, I mean, it helps. But fat something else,” you replied.

“God you’re filthy.”

“It’s your fault,” you said, rubbing his back extra hard to make him squeal.

Roger’s voice faltered, coming down from the bolt of pain, quickly succeeded by the loosening of one of the pressure points on his back. “Oh, why’s that?” he asked.

“I used to be an angel before I met you. And now? All I care about is private jets, champagne and getting shagged anywhere, anytime. How’s that for a change.”

Roger leaned back against you, pinning you between himself and the headboard as he looked up at you with his big tired doe eyes. “Well, for what it’s worth, I quite like the new you, Kitten.”

“Is that right?” you laughed, tickling your fingernails over his chest. “How’s your back feeling?”

“Much much better. I swear you’ve got magic hands.”

“And what’s on our agenda for today?”

“I was hoping I could show you around,” he smiled. “We’ve got a whole day before everyone else gets here. And we won’t have a moment to ourselves afterwards.” Then his voice descended into a naughty, mischievous whisper: “So I was hoping, if you’ll let me, we could make the most of it and be absolute heathens for the rest of the day.”

You placed a long, drawn out kiss to the top of Roger’s head and squeezed him tightly. “That sounds absolutely perfect. Especially the part about us being heathens. That suits us down to a tee, don’t you think, Daddy?”

“It really does, Kitten.”

“Well, I’m going to go and get myself ready,” you explained, untying the front of Roger’s robe to reveal his cock, resting against his stomach. Hard and fully erect. “And you can take care of that.”

“Can’t you do it for me?” Roger pouted. “That mouth of yours looks awfully tempting.”

“I’ll tell you what,” you began, “why don’t I let you know when you’re allowed to take care of it? See how long you last?”

“Oh you’re cruel,” he sighed, watching you slip off the bed and wander over to the wardrobe.

Searching through your clothes to find the optimal outfit to tease Roger in, you glanced over your shoulder. He was still sitting there, looking down at his cock, wondering whether he’d risk disobeying you. “I wonder what you’re like when you’re all needy,” you pondered.

“And what happens if I get myself off anyway?”

“I don’t think you want to know, Daddy. You’re right – I can be very, very cruel.”

Dressed and ready to face the day, you and Roger stepped out into the August sunshine. Midday wasn’t far around the corner and the sun bathed the promenade in a brilliant orange glow. Arm in arm, the pair of you strolled down towards the shimmering blue lake.

You turned your head as you walked, catching the smug grin plastered on Roger’s features. Moving closer to him, you purred in his ear. “You’re looking awfully pleased with yourself there, Roggie.”

“I’m out in my favourite town with the woman of my dreams. Why wouldn’t I be pleased with myself?” His voice was hushed, but jovial.

“I think you’ve been naughty, Daddy,” you whispered, leading Roger along the promenade towards the marketplace. “We can’t have that, can we?”

“What are you going to do about it?” he asked without so much as a flicker of fear or apprehension.

You chuckled, continuing to walk as your eyes darted from the revellers to the ornate facades on the lakefront buildings, letting the scenery brush against your sense of awareness, but never fully grasping it. Until, between a restaurant and a hotel, a cobbled alleyway caught your eye. You veered off your tranquil course, leading Roger towards the main road and away from the lake. “You’re going to be very sorry you disobeyed me once today’s over,” you cooed. The alleyway seemed to stretch up to the sky, spurring off into labyrinthine offshoots even darker and quieter than the next. Losing your breath about half way up the cobbled hill, you tugged Roger into an offshoot, pressing him against the wall. “You’re going to be so, so sorry, Daddy.”

Roger raised his eyebrows and scowled. “Just you try it, sweetheart.”

Palming at the bulge in Roger’s jeans with one hand, you pushed your sunglasses to the top of your head and looked up at Roger.

He just let it happen. It was all he could do, staring up at the clear blue sky and chuckling to himself. In his mind, he had everything to be pleased about; he had earned himself a free handjob – maybe more if he played his cards right. But that was all he wanted. 

The bustle of the promenade wasn’t far out of earshot and if he allowed you to allow him get too carried away, you risked being found out for the pair of perverts you really were. And he couldn’t let that happen.

But you weren’t going to let him off that easily. Undoing Roger’s jeans, you took his cock out; thick, hard and begging for your attention. Eyeing him up for any sign that he might be enjoying this, you pumped your hand over his length, gathering pace until you could hear each moist pass in your quiet alcove.

Roger sighed, jerking his hips into your grasp when your thumb brushed over the swollen tip. “Fuck,” he hissed, his lower lip clamped between his teeth.

“Enjoying this, Daddy?”

“Oh god, yes, Kitten. Keep going. Be quick.”

An evil flicker bolted through your eyes as you grinned up at him, relishing how worked up he became at nothing at all. “I’m gonna have to use my mouth. I know how much you love that,” you teased, sinking down on to your knees. The cobblestones were uncomfortable at best, but you’d only be in that position for a few minutes. And it’d be worth it, you thought, lapping at the underside of his shaft in lazy, wet strokes, groaning for effect. You felt the muscles in his thighs twinge when you grabbed them to steady yourself. And then his fingers, snaked their way through your hair. He wanted you to take him. To give him what he wanted there and then. But you were in control of this. Moving away from his cock with a pop of your lips and a clear thread of saliva tethering you to him, you got off your knees and wiped your chin.

Roger whined like a wounded animal. “You can’t  leave me like this, Kitten!”

“Oh, but I can, Daddy. You didn’t do as you were told this morning,” you scolded, wandering back down the cobbled alleyway, leaving him scrambling to catch up.

“But,” Roger protested, shoving his engorged member back into his jeans, “it’s so fucking obvious. How am I supposed to hide this?”

“Not my problem,” you shrugged. “Where to next?”

Roger’s mouth hung open for a moment, looking around. “We could take a boat to Chateau de Chillon?”

“Is it nice?” you asked, turning to him and placing your hand over your eyes to shield them from the rays.

“It’s gorgeous,” he blustered, leaning in to your ear. “Lots of places for you to finish sucking my cock without getting caught.”

“Whether or not you get to finish is up to me today, remember?” you scolded. “Now which way to the boats?”

Roger paled at how direct you were. How easily you took control. And how you somehow managed to turn his legs to mush with even the slightest telling off. He looked left and he looked right, and then he pointed to a jetty three blocks away. “It’s this way.”

You grabbed Roger’s arm and set off towards the small jetty of tourist boats, bobbing away in the water.

Roger’s efforts to conceal his raging hard-on didn’t go unnoticed by you. He attempted to walk behind you, hoping your handbag would hide his crotch. Then he tried grasping at the hem on his shirt, tugging it down only for it to ride up again. You could tell he was getting flustered, eager to sit down and finally cover the tent in his jeans by crossing his arms protectively over his front. In fact, when you boarded the shabby boat, you swore he had never looked so relieved.

You and Roger sat in silence on opposite sides, exchanging lustful glances the whole way there. Every so often, your gaze trailed down to his crotch, which he so desperately kept covered beneath his hands. You licked your lips and bit them for effect just so you could see your boyfriend squirm in front of a boat full of tourists.

All in all, the journey only took ten minutes but in Roger’s mind, it felt like an eternity. He didn’t care where, or how you did it, all he needed was release. He mentally kicked himself for disobeying you that morning.

Stepping off the boat and on to the wooden jetty, Roger practically dragged you in the direction of the ticket booth, paying for both of your tickets. 

“Where to first, Daddy?” you asked innocently.

Roger scanned the courtyard for the one entrance he knew he could count on. His eyes lit up when he found it. “I know just the place, Kitten,” he said excitedly, striding on ahead of you.

You snorted at his eagerness as he took two steep stone steps at a time, descending into the dark bowels of the castle into a deserted cellar.

Roger paused, glancing around. “Let’s go this way,” he ordered, jabbing his finger into the darkness ahead of you both.

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere quiet so you can finish me off.”

“No chance,” you jibed.

Roger stopped dead and pushed you against the wall. In the darkness you could just about make out his shoulders rising and falling. “Why don’t we play a game then, darling?” he said, running his hand over your throat so tantalisingly it went straight to your core.

“I love games,” you mocked.

“First one to come today gets a punishment,” he purred, hiking up the hem of your dress. “I wonder how long you’ll last. Oh,” he paused, palming at your slit. “No knickers and a short little dress? I think you’re really trying to tease me.”

That submissive streak inside you simmered away under the surface. “I didn’t think I’d need them,” you sighed, spreading your legs for him. “Seeing how hard you get for me just gets me so wet. I’d have soaked right through them.”

Roger chuckled, and kissed your neck, lulling you into a false sense of security.

It made you wonder when the catch would come. You always suspected Roger had a sadistic streak in him, and you always wondered what it’d be like to push the limits of his happy-go-lucky nature. Maybe today was that day? 

But he was so gentle, so careful. Caressing that sweet spot between your legs with feather light touches that earned stifled, breathless moans from you. Never once did his fingers move with any kind of intent, other than to draw you out for as long as possible. And he clearly adored it.

He kept his forehead pressed to yours as he continued to tease you until his fingers were completely coated in your slick. “I think you like this, Kitten,” he whispered.

“I really do, Daddy.”

“Do you want to come?”

“Not yet.”

“I’ll let you come if you put that mouth of yours to good use.”

“You’re going to need to try harder,” you sassed.

“I thought you’d say that,” he said in a wicked tone.

Before you could choke out another sassy retort, Roger slipped two fingers inside you, curling them up against that one spot guaranteed to make you squeal his name. Then another finger joined them, stretching you out with squelching wet strokes that cut through the dark, quiet cellar. His fingers fucked you, while his thumb circled your clit in firm motions that ratcheted up the tension in your legs with every single round. “Tell me again how I need to try harder, Kitten?”

You grasped and clawed at his shoulders for stability in the throes of pure ecstasy. “Oh god, not here Daddy!”

Roger chuckled, burying his face against your neck to get better access to all the sensitive skin to drag his teeth over. “That’s what you get for teasing me, Kitten,” he whispered, his breath falling in hot feathery wisps on your skin. “Now, you can finish me here and now, or I can make you come and give you a nice punishment when we get back to the flat tonight.”

“I swear I’ll finish you,” you panted. “Please.”

Roger smirked, removing his fingers from your cunt, leaving them saturated. He pressed them to your lips. “Suck them clean,” he commanded, popping them into your mouth before your brain could register what was going on. “Hopefully this’ll teach you not to get mouthy with me.”

You hummed, wrapping your lips around each finger as he pumped them in and out of your mouth until they were all clean, wishing they were still buried in your dripping snatch. You swore your thighs were a mess by that point. But it didn’t matter. You had to let Roger believe that he was getting exactly what he wanted from you – it was all part of the plan.

You grabbed his hand and started wandering ahead, but Roger stayed firmly rooted to the spot. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked.

“We need to find some privacy, Roger. We can’t  do that right here,” you whispered.

“Can’t we?” Roger smirked, nodding towards a short wall in the dark recesses of the cellar. “Pretty sure that’s private enough.”

You tugged your lower lip between your teeth, feeling your heart pounding against your chest. If it beat any more violently, it might have burst right out. You walked slowly behind the wall and got to your knees for the second time that day as Roger joined you, hastily tugging down his zipper and pulling out his cock.

Roger wasn’t planning on playing nice. Grabbing the back of your hair with one hand, while the other wrapped around the base of his cock, he looked down and smirked. “Now, be a good girl and open that gorgeous mouth of yours.”

Before you knew it, he had bottomed out; the tip pushing at the back of your throat. You gagged and spluttered and fumbled for something to steady yourself. You clung to Roger’s thighs for dear life. The pace he had set for you was utterly blistering. The kind of face fucking that instantly sent mascara cascading down your cheeks, and great, long strings of saliva dripping from your chin and on to your chest. The sounds of you gagging on his cock alone were disgustingly lewd; even concealed behind the tiny wall, if a rogue tourist happened upon the cellar, they’d hear the pair of you and know straight away what you were getting up to.

“Such a good little slut, aren’t you Kitten?” he sighed, thrusting into your mouth with reckless abandon and no consideration for the state of your hair, or your makeup. “I love girls who do as they’re told.”

The words pouring from his mouth were sheer filth and it went straight to your cunt. You  couldn’t resist reaching down to get yourself off.

But then, Roger tugged you off his cock. Right before any kind of pleasure registered in your brain.

“I didn’t say you could come, did I, Kitten?” he scolded.

You were still panting, trying to suck some air into your lungs, relishing the brief reprieve he offered from his onslaught. Your brain was so cloudy that words weren’t on the agenda.

“Let’s play a game, shall we?” he purred with a sadistic edge. “You get to play with that tight   little cunt of yours, and I get to come wherever I like. How does that sound?”

“Sounds reasonable,” you sighed with a delirious smile, your hand returning to your torture, tense cunt. But Roger’s grip on the back of your head pulled your gaze right back up to him.

“There’s one other thing, though, Kitten. Are you listening?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you cooed.

“Wherever I decide to come, you’re not allowed to clean it off until we’ve walked around the entire castle. So you better hope that mouth of yours pleases me, or it’ll be going on that beautiful face of yours.”

You moaned  hearing those words. Was he really serious? 

You didn’t care. You continued to play with yourself, dutifully opening your mouth to take his cock again.

“Can you imagine what everyone would think if they saw you with spunk dripping down your face, darling?” He groaned; he seemed to know the exact things to say to have you teetering on the edge in seconds flat. “Or maybe I could  fuck you. You love feeling it drip down those thighs, don’t you, Kitten?”

Now that was an idea, you thought. Your eyes popped open with enthusiasm as you gave an approving mewl.

“Yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you Kitten?” he taunted, his cock hellbent on making your jaw ache. “Tell me how much you want it.”

Of course you couldn’t manage that. Words were impossible when you were gagged by that thick rod of his stuck down your throat. But that didn’t stop you trying, gurgling a comical, “Fuck me please Daddy,” through the unrelenting mouthful.

“So cute,” he teased. “I didn’t quite catch that, Kitten.”

“Oh my god,” you gurgled again, “please fuck me Daddy.”

Roger laughed, yanking you off his cock. He spoke to you like you were a gorgeous little simpleton – slowly, annunciating every syllable. “English, please, Kitten. Tell me again.”

“Please fuck me,” you whined, your hand working overtime between your thighs. 

Then, panic set in. Roger wasn’t focusing on you anymore. Instead, he was busy looking around as the sound of footsteps grew closer. He quickly tucked himself back into his jeans and offered you a hand up.

Your stomach dropped with disappointment.

You quickly wiped the drool off your chin, and power walked out of the cellar and on to the next exhibit in the castle, red face and both of you so frustrated by each other’s teasing that you might have exploded just from walking and holding hands in awkward silence. “Where to next?” you asked him.

“Maybe we should try the armoury?” he sighed. “Might be a bit less busy.”

Clamouring up several flights of stone and wooden steps, you and Roger were horrified to find that the jewel in the crown of Montreux’s most famed tourist attractions in peak season was completely packed. Small children ran amuck in the armoury, enjoying the view and playing around with the wooden toy canons.

It was a sight that could’ve made you and Roger cry.

“Right! Back on the boat,” Roger ordered, thrusting his hands into the pockets of his dark blue jeans and bolting down the wooden steps towards the courtyard.

You struggled to keep up with him as he walked down the stony path towards the jetty to catch the next boat back to Montreux.

“I can’t fucking believe that,” Roger complained. “I was so fucking ready to …”

“Shag my brains out?” you laughed.

Roger’s features changed from bitter frustration to mild agreement, and even, a small meek smile. “Yeah.”

“Where to next,” you began, draping your arm over his shoulder, “Daddy?”

He flicked his eyes over to you and with a devilish smirk, he made his suggestion. “There’s a really good bar on the promenade. And I don’t think they’d bat an eyelid about people shagging in their toilets.”

You laughed, slapping his chest as the boat set sail. You were so ready to give up on the game you were playing. “Haven’t we had enough near misses today?”

“Oh I’m sorry,” Roger began, stepping on to the boat, “I thought we were doing the whole public sex thing now, because my girlfriend’s just realised she’s a bit of a freak!”

You plonked yourself down beside him, resting your head on his shoulder. “I am, but sometimes, you  have to make it about the soft stuff, you know?”

Roger raised an eyebrow in suspicion.

“I’m kidding! Where is this bar you were talking about? It better be good!”

“Drinks are on me, Kitten,” he said softly, patting your thigh.

You and Roger burst into the opulent bathroom at Funky Claude’s with the verve and roguish impatience of a pair of horny teenagers. You giggled, casting an eye over the decadent restroom to make sure no one was there, before bundling Roger into a stall.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” you laughed, hiking your dress up around your hips and planting your hands firmly against the wall at the back of the cubicle. 

“Me neither,” Roger responded. This was followed by the hasty unzipping of his jeans, for the third and hopefully final time that day. He spat on his fingers and dragged them over your cunt, still sensitive and glistening invitingly from the torture Roger had bestowed upon you at the castle. 

You groaned as Roger eased into you. The way he stretched you tight around his girth and stilled for just a split second made you eagerly clench around him. It didn’t do much. But that was ok. Your eyes nearly rolled into the back of your head when he finally began to move in tedious passes, every back and forth filled the tiny bathroom stall with slick sounds that would have given the game away, should someone have wandered in while you were mid rut. 

Roger’s hips snapped into you with a jagged, purposeful intent, that made you curse and brace harder against the wall in front of you. He clung to your waist with his chest firmly glued to your back, hunching over you like an animal. “Such a tight  cunt,” he moaned against your neck. “Touch it for me. Touch your cunt for me, Kitten.”

Those words made your entire body shudder with need. “You do it, Daddy,” you whined.

He chuckled and wrapped one hand around your throat. His free hand slipped between your thighs, seeking out the sensitive little nub he had taken so much pleasure in teasing so harshly before.

Your nails clawed at the wall as another wave ripped through your body. You cursed, loud and unchecked as Roger did his best to bring you to the edge as fast as possible.

But then, you heard the gentle swish of the swing doors to the bathroom. You and Roger stopped dead. His hand moved from your neck to your mouth and his lips pressed to your ear again. “Shhh,” he said, moving his cock painfully slow in. And out.

You blinked and looked around, as if somehow it would make your ears work a bit better in an attempt to track the person’s movements in the stall next to yours. You could hear them shuffle their jeans down. And you heard the stream of urine whizzing out of their bladder. And then their zipper. And a flush. And the taps.

All while Roger continued to fuck you so slowly it made you ache.

Nothing could prepare you for when the hand dryer roared to life. He moved at double the pace as when you were alone, pounding you like he was in heat; his fingers doing the same on your clit until your body convulsed and a loud, pleasure dripping moan escaped you, masked by your fellow bathroom goer drying their hands off after taking a piss.

When they finally left, Roger gave three sharp thrusts, punctuated by guttural grunts with his teeth planted in your shoulder. You could feel him dripping out of you as the pair of you stood there in silence, sandwiched together in your post romp comedown.

“Fuck,” you giggled, making his seed ooze down your thighs as you turned to him. “Can you believe we almost got caught?” Your cheeks burned with humiliation. “Do you think they realised?”

Roger shrugged, tucking his cock back into his tight blue jeans. “It was your idea, Kitten,” he said with a raised eyebrow. “And I for one, actually liked it.”

“That’s reassuring,” you quipped, balling up a wad of toilet paper.

Roger leaned back against the cubicle door and watched, mesmerised as you cleaned yourself up in front of him. Even for you, this was a new level of personal space invasion. 

“Staying for drinks?” he asked casually.

You got up and flushed the toilet then turned to him with a wide grin. “Do you think the people out there realised the two of us just blasted in and shagged in their toilets?”

“It probably happens more than you might think,” he shrugged. He turned and unbolted the door, throwing a glance back at you over his shoulder. “You finish titivating yourself and I’ll get them in. They’ve got a great cocktail menu.”

“Will do,” you sighed, following him out of the cubicle and wandering over to the mirror. Mascara was caked around your lashline from Roger’s earlier efforts at putting your mouth to good use and your lipstick was smudged, leaving only your lipliner intact. Not only that but the blistering August sun had made your foundation cling to all those tiny lines on your face that you didn’t want to admit you had. You opened your bag and fished out your make up to try and fix the damage. Your hair would require a bit more effort. Roger loved it messy, but you weren’t sure you’d be able to bear being seen in a fancy place like this with a raging crow’s nest atop your head. And you weren’t even sure you packed a brush. Snapping the emergency hair tie you wore on your wrist, you reckoned that desperate times called for desperate measures, and scooped your hair up into a high ponytail, hoping to god that Roger wouldn’t get the wrong idea and get another boner for you to take care of tonight. Then you swiped on some lipstick, blended out your mascara and your foundation and blotted on some powder to take the shine off. It never ceased to amaze you the wonders that five minutes in a quiet bathroom could do as you puckered up your lips to blot the excess rouge off. You topped it all off with some perfume and you were good to go.

Roger waited patiently at the bar, seductively sucking an olive from a cocktail stick and eyeing the cocktail menu from over the frames of his glasses. His shirt sat askew and his hair stuck up in all directions, but somehow he fitted right in with the opulence of a place like this. You could  tell he was a big deal. Sometimes, it took your breath away and made the butterflies resurface all over again, remembering that he was yours and no one else’s.

His eyes lit up when he saw you wander over to him from across the crowded room. Like two strangers on an awkward first date, unsure of how to approach each other. But pleased they had found themselves in the same place at the same time.

For some reason, putting one foot in front of the other was much more troublesome in this situation. Not from a day of wandering around Montreux, but from sheer nerves. Feeling your chest burn, you noticed all eyes in the room were on you; you ran your fingers through your ponytail, smoothed down your dress, and sucked your teeth to make sure nothing was stuck between them. Your heart thudded, wondering what exactly was wrong with you. Why were these people staring?

“What’s a beautiful girl like you doing in a dump like this?” Roger smirked when you finally reached him.

“Fella done me wrong,” you joked, hoisting yourself up on the stool next to him. You stole an olive from the dish in front of him, and elbowed his side.

Roger scanned the room at the people who stared at you. Not looking at you, he smiled. “You’re a real head turner, darling.”

“That’s probably you…” you paused, thinking of your next move. 

Why not go with it? 

This was the perfect backdrop to the most perfect date you could imagine. Admiring Roger in the glow from the low-hanging lamps over the bar, you asked him your burning question. “Would you like some company for the night?”

Roger turned to you with a mischievous glint in his eye. He slapped his hand on your thigh and said, “Only if you’ll let me buy you a drink, beautiful.” 

He was playing along.

You scooted closer to him, peering over his shoulder to read the menu in his hands, laughing quietly at the names. “I like the sound of a ‘Money,’” you said, pointing to the page.

“I’m loving this ‘Let’s Dance’ one,” Roger replied. “You know, darling, I’m actually friends with Bowie.”

You knew this. You had seen David’s number pop up on Roger’s phone on numerous occasions, and the comments they’d leave on each others’ Instagram posts. But for the sake of going along with your perfect first date, you widened your eyes in shock. Over played, hammy, fake shock. “Really? What’s he like?”

“Oh he’s great. Peculiar guy. Cracking wardrobe.”

“So are you famous or something?” you pressed, beaming at him.

The bartender ducked between you and Roger – he looked like something out of a 1920’s speakeasy, complete with black armband, suspenders and a moustache. “Monsieur Taylor – que désirez-vous?”

Roger stumbled for a moment, with an um and an ah and then, in perfect French he ordered. “Je voudrais un Money, et pour la dame, une Let’s Dance s’il vous plait.”

“D’accord Monsieur.”

Something about Roger speaking French went straight to your legs; or rather, the spot between them. “You haven’t answered my question,” you prodded, looking visibly flustered by Roger’s linguistic prowess, and squeezing your thighs together for good measure.

“You could say that, darling,” he said, shovelling a handful of nuts into his mouth. “I’m the drummer in a rock band.”

“Oh so you’re a rockstar?” you cooed. “Will I have heard of you?”

“I don’t know, darling. Ever heard of Queen? We’re kind of a big deal,” he boasted in a charmingly modest fashion.

“So that’s where I’ve seen you!” you said with wide eyes. “Personally, I’ve always thought they were kind of shit.”

Roger didn’t know how to respond to that. So instead he did that thing he usually did, where he desperately moved his lips as his usually sharp and nimble brain played a game of catchup. It lasted a few awkward seconds where all you wanted to do was to break character and yell ‘kidding’ at him. But eventually, he changed the subject. “What brings you to Montreux, darling?” he asked, resting his head against his hand as he leaned on the bar and gazed adoringly at you.

“Just some bloke, really,” you sighed.

“Really? And here was me thinking I had a chance,” he pouted. “What’s your man like?”

You lowered your eyebrows and flashed him a smile that made him instantly wish he had never even asked that question. “Well,” you hummed, “he’s lovely. I met him on Tinder, and if you ask me, he’s far too old to be on there. But anyway, I let all that slide. Gave him a chance.”

“Why?” he asked.

“Because he’s everything I could ever want. Shorter than I thought from his pictures, though. Still tall enough. Handsome. Great dress sense. He’s surprisingly intelligent, considering how beautiful he is. And, here’s the kicker. He has the most devilish, vile sense of humour I’ve ever encountered.”

“He sounds like a catch,” Roger sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“He is. I’ve only been with him a short while and he’s completely changed my life for the better. I’m so much more confident because of him. But anyway, why are you here?” you asked, turning to face him and shuffling in your seat.

“A woman.”

“What’s she like?”

“Well, she’s the polar opposite of my ex wife and the kind of woman I should’ve married. So sensible and carefree at the same time. And she really makes me want to be better, you know? I never felt like I could have a life with my ex wife. But this girl. God, she’s got me thinking about it. I don’t know if I’ve missed the boat with all the settling down business. I hope not. Because she’s all I want.”

“And yet you’re in a fancy bar, buying a strange girl a very overpriced drink?” you asked with a wink.

“I think we’ve met before,” he sighed, closing his eyes ever so slightly.

“I think so too,” you said.

Roger turned his gaze towards the bartender, watching him as he made your drinks. You could barely hear the sounds that came out of his mouth. But his lips sure as hell looked like they were saying something important. 

Like: “I love you.”

>> NEXT >>

[souvercines]

took me ages to wrap this up between a low battery and trying not to ramble TOO much, but part two, here we go glfkdsj

✰ ––– ni ni. cis female. she/her // you don’t know ? that’s RENÉE WU ! they’re a THIRTY-FOUR year old real estate executive from LONDON, ENGLAND. as part of manhattan’s elite, the wayfarer is known to be DILIGENT & AUDACIOUS. most people recognize them by bold power suits, waking up refreshed beneath silk sheets, tipping generously, heels clacking against hardwood, three passport photos. ( kat, 22, nt, she/her )

born wu xiurong to a hong kong born, uk raised father and a chinese national mother, renée was similarly set for success as caro, but with way WAY less cracked antics and without caro’s ( self-perceived ) limitless privilege

( and for the record, renée herself went from being a dual citizen to a uk citizen bc china is funny like that.. though citizenship laws are weird so she might be considered dual since she’s been in america for a good bit ?? god help me DFLGJSK )

papa wu and his siblings are at the helm of a hong kong-based real estate development firm that has since flourished into a sotheby’s/christie’s-like group, but her geographical background is a tad more complex than that.. as if it wasn’t clear enough a second ago but let me explain sijfg

she and her older brother were born and raised in the uk; so while papa wu and his family were busy building up their company with many trips abroad, renée, her brother and her mom hung back in london for the most part — though some of her summers were spent in hong kong, with family in mainland china or along the beaches of the mediterranean when she wasn’t embracing the countryside of her home country during term breaks

however, at age 12, she and the family moved to edinburgh so she could attend a more prestigious private school — and so they could be a bit closer to her brother who was spending time at the renowned st. andrew’s university

speaking of her brother, they have quite the age gap, so while they do love each other and all that, they aren’t necessarily close. he was always primed to be something of an heir and he was more than cool with that, while renée was more keen on taking her time to figure out what she wanted to do with her life.... though the answer was laid out in front of her regardless and she would ultimately join her brother in her later years

she loved seeing the blueprints and little online models of projects the company was included in, the construction of a high-rise apartment building and the potential layout/design of it. it piqued her interest that her father’s start as a real estate agent brought him to this point, and it made her want to work hard as well, especially within the family business

as not to neglect mama wu, she was something of a socialite; having come from a somewhat wealthy family herself, her and her husband couldn’t be more different in terms of self-discipline and aspirations. however, she put her energy into more charitable and community-focused avenues as her children grew older, in which they were sometimes involved in upcoming events and activities

in renée’s eyes, they were a dream team in their own way when they would reunite, and the lessons that came with their individual and mutual grinds sort of paved the way for her

unlike her brother, she wound up attending london school of economics and majored in finance and staying on for her masters in real estate economics

she later began to work her way up the family business, first as an agent in the uk and at present, as an executive with plenty of investment in bigger projects and smaller listings with some of her past clients

her job has taken her to different cities for weeks or months at a time, but at the age of twenty-eight, she dubbed nyc home as the company expanded into east coast america, having lived in the city ever since !

personality and extras

she is.. quite a mess i guess ?? in terms of traits, i mean

she’s definitely independent and driven, the right amount of courteous in professional and kind of elite settings, not afraid to make tough decisions and take risks

like she’s lighthearted with coworkers and such, but she will sometimes reprimand someone a little bit harsher than necessary when stressed about x thing for instance

but aspects of this are a mask that slips off quick and are replaced by something of a jubilant free spirit, someone who enjoys herself with anything from a night in with a good book and some light piano arrangements playing in the background, to going to her fave restaurant with a few pals for a drink every couple of weeks and possibly going to a club or bar if she’s in the mood

passionate beyond her career, is the complete opposite of caro when it comes to her love life; she’s loyal and when she’s committed, she’ll put a great deal of effort into the relationship

she’s definitely sentimental, loves her family and will cherish the hell out of you as a friend once you’ve solidified yourself in her life

a world-class traveller, which kinda went without saying from her label lbr KFLSDJG

she just. loves to explore ! sometimes acts without thinking to make the most of a given journey, was totally the type to cliffdive with pals in greece or parasail in the caribbean

and she still is, but she’s toned it down a bit for the sake of ensuring she doesn’t look wrecked whenever she returns to work JDFKSLGJD

a major city dweller with an affinity for nature and rural destinations ! her apartment is probably riddled with fresh flowers or a diffuser that reminds her of the sea/rainfall, while most of her travels that aren't related to work or seeing family takes her to the countryside, the forest or a waterfront cottage

renée tends to be pretty active as well and those rather secluded, decongested places enable her to make the most of it versus going to a gym or out on the street with a hoard of tourists and citizens at every turn

besides, swimming in a lake or hiking a trail to sightsee is more of her speed than a ton of strength training and being on an elliptical sfgkdljfsdl

has a little tricoloured furbaby cat named lulu who she Adores, has a nice little bed and all for her too

i... drk what else but she’s a solid pal, a focused businesswoman and basically a lot of things that caro is not, which is a relief tbh GDSFLK

some wcs/plot ideas

i’m sure she’s living in some nice, modern apartment building.. at least on the inside, bc something tells me she’d go for a building made of brick with charm lkdsfjgkl, but nonetheless, having a couple of neighbours around would be great ! they could be good pals or just elevator buds/neighbours who communicate solely through the wall or something, idk

anyone from the uk that wants to be her longtime pal ?? or who went to school in the uk ? literally just give her a super close friend who she’d take on those nights out or have a nice little dinner at her/their place !

someone who looks after lulu while she’s abroad, not really a stand-alone connection but it’s uh.. a big deal for her so DSGKLJ

an ex-fiancé(e), likely one of those instances of being TOO similar but not in a couple of key areas, to be quite honest.. or something completely different SDFGJLKS i redacted a whole blurb that 1am!me came up with that was just too much, but they probably would’ve been together for 3 or 4 years before calling it off. i’d imagine she still loves them/cares deeply for them, but she probably wouldn’t rekindle the relationship anytime soon ( .. or at all, idk man dgsflkj )

someone she’s been sleeping with for a bit while she gets her mojo back ?? nothing serious, the girl just doesn’t wanna date right yet, but also doesn’t wanna fuck with a bunch of randoms kgfsdjklgd

give her any kind of pals, i’m blanking rn but someone she’s met on her travels is kind of an easy one i conjured up

she’s bound to not get along with some people, so consider this an opening for some frenemies/people she knows in passing but can’t get beyond small talk and such with each other

[hookedontaronfics]

First Contact series - Part 8

Title: First Contact - Part 8 Read the previous installments here: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 Rating: M Pairing: Taron x OC Warnings: Mild smut A/N: Vacationing with Taron in Dubrovnik feels like just a dream for Jess. But when Taron starts sharing real feelings, will Jess be able to reciprocate? This chapter contains adult themes, so turn back now if you’re not prepared to read it. You’ve been warned! Enjoy! x

Welcome to Dubrovnik, love.

It wasn’t just what Taron said that thrilled me, it was the way he said it too. When his voice dropped low, there was something incredibly sexy about it, and I wasn’t immune to the effect it had on people. I couldn’t help but squeal to myself a bit while Taron hugged me cutely from behind, very happy to be there with me. I don’t think I was ever going to get over that fact, that I was the reason for the smile on his face now.

As much as I wanted to admire both the view in front of me and the one behind me, my stomach growled rather loudly and I knew I needed to eat soon or I’d start feeling faint. Taron, of course, heard the noises and chuckled.

“Do we need to get you something to eat?” 

“I’m positively starving. All I’ve had so far today has been a protein bar, a handful of airline pretzels and coffee,” I said, thinking about it for a moment. “Yep, that’s it.”

“What, that’s hardly enough, love,” Taron said, looking concerned for a moment.

“Nerves have been bad, but I’m here now so I think I can eat!” I grinned. “What about you, aren’t you hungry too?” I asked, turning around in his arms and poking his stomach, which in all actuality was quite firm.

“I am always up for food, no question,” Taron smirked lightly.

“Somehow that surprises me!” I laughed, as we finally went back inside the suite. I poked about a bit more, checking out the incredibly luxurious bathroom as well. Oh, it definitely had a jacuzzi tub in it, and I had to keep my thoughts from straying somewhere they shouldn’t.

“My diet is absolute crap, much to my agent and everyone else’s disappointment,” Taron giggled. “And when I don’t have to be fit, I’m usually not.”

“Well I will take you any way you are,” I grinned, wrapping my arms around him and reaching up to steal a kiss or three. “So where are you taking me?” I grinned.

Taron had been scrolling through his phone, I presume to find an appetizing place to eat, and raised his eyebrow at me cutely. “I think we’ll go to Azure first. I had them once and the food was amazing,” he grinned.

“Anything, at this point, sounds amazing,” I laughed.

“This place is on the edge of the Old Town, so we can meander through that once we’re done eating. I think you’ll love it,” Taron said, cutely excited as we left our luggage behind in the room and went out to eat and explore.

The weather could not have been more perfect. It was a little warm, sure, but with the constant breeze off the coast it seemed bearable, and I enjoyed the feel of the sun on my skin. We ended up getting an Uber to drop us off at the Old City gates and walked the rest of the way in to the restaurant so I could gape in awe at the gorgeous place again.

“I can’t believe you spent weeks filming here, that must have felt so lucky. It’s incredible,” I said enthusiastically, swinging Taron’s hand in mine between us as we walked. We made it to the restaurant, a mix of Asian fusion and Mediterranean influences, and it was difficult to choose. I wanted to try so many things. We ended up sharing the wasabi salmon pouches and I ordered the meatballs in coconut curry sauce, but of course I had to steal bites of Taron’s swordfish in black curry sauce. It was all delicious, and we left the restaurant feeling absolutely stuffed.

We walked about the old town streets, poking in shops and stalls tucked into alleys, just enjoying being leisurely together until jet lag started to catch up to us both. “Ready to head back to the hotel and just relax?” Taron asked me sweetly, noticing my energy flagging.

“I think that’d be a good idea, much as I’d love to keep walking,” I smiled.

“We’ll feel so much more refreshed tomorrow, I’m sure. But being lazy right now sounds like a good plan,” he grinned. We returned to our hotel and cuddled up on the couch together, surfing through the English channels on the telly to find something to watch. I must have dozed off because the sun was low in the sky when I came to, nestled against Taron’s chest. He stirred slightly when he felt me sit up and cracked his eyes open. “Get some rest?” he asked me gently, and I nodded, yawning a bit and having a stretch.

“Hopefully you weren’t trapped for too long,” I smiled as he ruffled my hair cutely.

“I dozed myself,” he grinned. “But I am a bit hungry again,” he laughed, and I couldn’t help smiling over that. Eating and sleeping and not doing much else sounded like the perfect kind of vacation to me. We ended up walking just down the street to Magellan, sharing sweetbread and enjoying our pasta courses and some wine. Either I was a total lightweight, or Croatia’s wines were strong, because I was definitely feeling it by the time we paid our tab and left.

“We should go down to the water!” I suggested with a giggle, Taron putting his arm around my shoulders to keep me steady as I had been weaving a bit on the sidewalk.

“We can do that,” Taron replied with an amused grin. We went down to the pebble beach access from the hotel’s lift, greeted by the gentle sound of waves lapping at the shore. The beach was already cast in shadows at that point but it helped ease the heat of the day and we walked along the shoreline in contented peace, passing a few other couples but no one bothering us at all. We truly are just like any other couple, I thought, giggling to myself. 

“This feels so perfect,” I said sweetly, leaning my head against Taron’s shoulder as we stood gazing out at the waves. “I can’t believe you brought me here, that I’m with you, that this feels so much better than I knew it could be to be with someone.”

“You ought to start believing it, Jess,” he said, tipping my chin up to look him in the eyes, before caressing my cheeks gently. “I find it hard to believe that no one ever tried to do these things for you. I just don’t find it difficult to treat a woman the way she deserves to be treated.”

“I think it’s hard to know what you deserve when you’ve been treated like an unwanted accident your entire life,” I replied, maybe more harshly than I had meant, but Taron didn’t seem phased by my tone. If anything, he looked heartbroken for me. “And when you grow up not knowing what you deserve, not knowing that love should be something inherent and not earned, you end up with wildly bad taste in men,” I rambled on.

“Well I’m here to show you what you deserve, Jess,” Taron said slowly. “All of this,” he replied, sweeping his arm outward, “and so much more. You deserve someone who truly sees you, who doesn’t judge you for your struggles, who knows how precious you are.” I teared up slightly at that, unable to control it because it was probably the nicest thing anyone had ever said to me. He brushed the tears off my cheeks and hugged me to him tightly; I felt at once safe and comforted in his arms. “You need to heal, from everything you’ve been through that has torn you down. I promise to help in any way I can.”

“Thank you, Taron,” I sniffled slightly, trying not to full-on cry.

“You don’t need to thank me for doing what someone else should have done a long time ago. Knowing what I know now, I’m incredibly lucky that you let me in at all,” he said gently, pulling back to gaze at me again, brushing my wind-blown hair out of my face. I noticed that his eyes were a bit red and watery too. “You deserve to be loved for every fibre of your being, Jess. I intend to do that if you let me.”

I was left a bit speechless, unsure what to say, or how to say it, and I even had to look away from the intensity of his gaze, feeling stripped down to my soul by those pale green eyes of his. “I would give every last dime in the world if I could be with you. None of this means anything to me without you now, Jess,” he spoke, with a raw honesty that still shook me. They weren’t just pretty words you’d find in a romance novel; they were real and overwhelming and deeply felt coming from Taron.

He seemed to understand that I needed some time to mull over these words of his, and we stood there quietly by the sea as I did my best to comprehend how he felt about me and what it all meant moving forward. I think the hardest part for me was that we hadn’t been together all that long; I didn’t feel that I had earned this kind of devotion on his part. But I also knew he wasn’t telling me half-truths or spinning fictions, that there was nothing about Taron that wasn’t genuine. Even more so, we had yet to be really intimate and I was a bit perplexed that someone could want me for more than just the pleasures of the flesh. He had gotten to know more of me than any man had taken the time to do and I wasn’t sure how to handle it.

We eventually returned to our room when we both got too cold, and completely knackered from the flights and emotions we ended up just getting ready for bed, taking turns in the bathroom and then crawling into our separate beds. I’m not going to lie, it felt a bit odd to be more “roommates” than lovers in our sleeping arrangements, but to push things wouldn’t be wise for me. The last thing Taron needed was me freaking out unnecessarily because I hadn’t been that close to anyone since Kevin. Even thinking his name made my skin crawl, but then Taron cut into my thoughts with his adorable “sweet dreams, love,” before turning out his bedside light.

I laid awake for a bit, tossing and turning despite my exhaustion, long after I had heard Taron’s breathing slow and settle into sleep. I realized that even this much, being in the same room as him, my eyes tracing his sleeping form in the dark, was a new step for me. A step in the right direction, I reminded myself. I eventually let myself drift off to sleep, hoping for a fun day tomorrow.

****

The sun crawling slowly across the floor through the shades woke me in the morning. I squinted over at the clock and realized it was already 11 a.m. and Taron was still sound asleep. I couldn’t help but think he looked completely adorable in that vulnerable state, appreciating the sweetness of his sleeping expression. Sometimes the truest self could be viewed when someone was off in dreamland, escaping the pretense and performance of waking life. I left him to snooze a little longer as I shut myself in the bathroom, taking a good half-hour to shower and let the steam and luxurious soaps the hotel provided wake me up. I had to admit that I was feeling a lot more refreshed as I combed through my wet hair. A simple knock on the bathroom door startled me and I had to laugh at myself. 

“Good morning, sunshine,” I grinned as I pulled the door open, my eyes taking in Taron’s bedhead and sleepy grin.

“Morning love,” he smirked, stealing a kiss from me and apologizing for his morning breath. I hadn’t even noticed. “Ready for more adventures today?” he asked cutely, and I nodded happily at that.

“Of course! But breakfast first,” I grinned, making him just chuckle. 

“You know it,” he said with a wink. We got ourselves ready for the day, which didn’t require much. We both donned shorts and t-shirts and walking shoes, and I was excited for our plans to walk the city walls and see Dubrovnik from that high up. We enjoyed a quick bite at the hotel’s rather exquisite breakfast buffet before heading out, hand-in-hand, the sun already quite warm.

We ambled our way into town and eventually made our way to an access point for the city walls. After a little debate, we decided to join one of the guided tours, blending in quite well with a group of other tourists. We listened in on the history of the place, appreciating the views of the seas, the hidden narrow streets and groaning inwardly every time we had more stairs to climb. All in all, it was an enjoyable couple of hours, if a bit sweaty, and Taron seemed glad to get the chance to do it, as he’d had no time before when he was filming. We ended up just grabbing some cheeses, grissini and olives from a market stall to take back with us to our room, sitting on our balcony and snacking after having such a late breakfast, letting our poor legs rest.

With it being such a sunny and hot day, we decided the next best course of action would be to enjoy the beach fully before we got hungry for dinner. While Taron was changing into his swim trunks, I deliberated over which swimsuit I should wear, finally deciding to just go with the bright teal and aqua bikini. Of course I was nervous about my body in it as I took my turn and changed, but I also just wanted to enjoy the beach and the sun on my skin and who else was here to judge me? Certainly not Taron, judging by the look on his face when I emerged from the bathroom. Of course he’d already seen me in a swimsuit, but this one didn’t provide as much coverage, and even showed a little bit of my scar.

“You look amazing,” Taron managed, after picking his jaw up off the floor. Figuratively, of course.

“I could say the same about you,” I grinned, scoping out his bare biceps in the tanktop he had on over his swimmers. “But are we going to stand here staring at each other until the sun goes down or get out there?” I teased.

“You’ve got a point,” he just grinned, slinging our beach bag with our towels and sunscreen and room key over his shoulder. I had pulled on a loose muslin overshirt and we flip-flopped our way down to the beachfront, paying for the chair rentals since the beach was a bit rocky. We set our stuff out and when Taron pulled his tank off I stared, unashamedly so. This is my boyfriend, I reminded myself happily. He handed me the sunscreen bottle and turned around expectantly. Yes please, I thought to myself, spreading the lotion over his back carefully, making sure to cover every bit so he wouldn’t get burned, never getting over the feeling of my fingers gliding over his skin. He did the same for me and once we were lotioned up, we laid out on the chairs, letting the sun bake us.

When we both got too hot, we ran out into the water together, Taron splashing me while I shrieked and tried to get away. I eventually ended up dunking him in the water, making him laugh and sputter when he came back up for air. “You’ll pay for that!” he smirked, pulling me to him and kissing me hungrily as we bobbed in the water together up to our necks. I could feel his hands skimming over the skin of my waist under the water, and I shivered slightly. I returned those kisses in kind, even wrapping my legs around him so I wouldn’t drift away, the action making him groan slightly against my mouth. But we were in public, and even if no one was paying us any mind, the last thing we needed to do was give them a show, so we eventually broke apart, breathless and happy.

We eventually made it back to our lounge chairs, lazing about in the sun and perfectly content. I could not have possibly asked for a better vacation, and the truth was that I hadn’t even asked for this at all. The specialness of this gift was not lost on me, and Taron didn’t expect anything from me either. I was still thinking over his words from the night before, wondering just how deeply I could return the feelings. Of course I had fallen for him; I’m pretty sure I felt like I had long before I’d met him in the Tesco. But that was fan adoration, based on an image he projected in his interviews and video bits. And while it was pretty close to the person he actually was away from the cameras, I found him to be even more humble, low-key and genuinely caring in person. But love, well, that was a tricky thing. I thought I had loved someone once, and that man had broken me. Trusting someone enough to love again felt like standing at the edge of a crevasse, needing to make the jump to the other side but all I could do was stare down.

I hadn’t realized I was frowning in thought until Taron leaned over and placed his hand on mine. “Everything alright?” he asked, and I hurriedly rearranged my expression.

“Of course. Just thinking, probably about work,” I lied, and felt bad for that lie. But how to tell him how scared I was? I just felt at a loss.

“None of that here,” he chuckled, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes as he watched me carefully. Feeling exposed, I finally suggested we go get dinner. The sun was heading toward the horizon anyway, and Taron didn’t argue. We changed and showered quickly, once again taking turns, and I donned a pretty dress and a light cardigan over it. Taron had chosen a rather fancy place for dinner, where we could sit outside and watch the stars twinkle into existence over our nightcaps. Our conversation flowed easily and I couldn’t help but be a bit mesmerized by the shadows drawn over his face by the flickering candlelight as the day sunk into early night.

We retired for the evening, getting ready for bed and cuddling on the couch as the telly droned on. Taron had drifted off and I had to shake him awake long enough to convince him to move to his bed, before crawling into my own and pulling the covers up around me, feeling a peculiar sense of loneliness seep through me that I couldn’t understand. I slid headlong into sleep, but my dreams were troubled and I guess I must have screamed out loud at some point because Taron woke me up out of the nightmare.

It took me a long, disorienting minute to remember where I even was, and I turned and hid my face against Taron as I sobbed slightly, images of Kevin still burned in my mind.

“It’s okay, you’re safe with me,” Taron soothed, repeating it over and over and patting my hair and running his hands gently over my arms, holding me and rocking me gently and giving me the space I needed to calm down. I was still shaking after I’d cried myself out, and he seemed reluctant to let me go. “Do you need to talk about it?” he asked quietly.

“I’m not sure that will help me any,” I said, my lips trembling.

“Please tell me what I can do to help,” he pleaded with me in the dark.

“Just stay,” I whispered, desperately not wanting to be alone.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he replied, his strong arms enveloping me as he placed a couple of kisses protectively on my forehead. Once I’d calmed down enough to sleep again, he rearranged our positions so he could cuddle me better and we could both sleep, and I felt much better now that we were both in the same bed, but hardly able to hold the significance of that in my mind. All I knew was that Taron made me feel safe from my demons, even if they only existed in my head. Exhausted and emotionally spent, I finally dropped off to sleep, my face buried in his comforting chest, lulled by the sound of his beating heart.

****

The next few days of vacation flew by, as they were wont to do. We explored more of the city, ate plenty more delicious food, and spent hours lounging by the pool or the sea. We’d taken in the views from the top of Srd, biked around Mljet National Park and escaped the midday heat in Dubrovnik’s museums. My favorite thing we did by far had been drinking cocktails and watching the sun set over the water at the ever-popular Buza Bar.

We also spent a lot of time in each other’s arms, kissing and touching and exploring each other’s bodies, but still I hesitated to give myself completely over to him, and he never asked for more than I was willing to give. 

On our second to last evening, I was talking to Taron about something, I don’t even remember what now, but I was clearly distracted as I was trying to pull a sweater out of my suitcase. A chill had crept into the air and we were going to take a moonlit walk on the beach together. My sweater had snagged on something and I yanked it rather hard, hoping that would free it, and out toppled the expensive lingerie Jules had bought for me - and that I had completely forgotten about. The lacy fabric pooled at my feet on the floor as Taron’s eyes went wide.

“What’s this, love?” he smirked, picking up the sheer teddy and holding it out for me.

“Oh god,” I said, my face flushing a deep red as I snatched it out of his hands. “N-nothing,” I stammered.

“Forget about the sweater. I want to see you in this,” he said, his eyes growing a bit dark and my heart nearly racing out of my chest. Damn it all to hell, Jules, I thought. “Please, love?” Taron asked, taking my hands in his and kissing my knuckles, staring up at me through his lashes. That look always undid my resolve a little, and he knew it too.

“Oh what the hell,” I huffed, grabbing the teddy and its matching panties and stalking off to the bathroom, not sure what I was even doing other than getting it over with. I had kept him wanting long enough, hadn’t I? I thought as I dropped my clothes to the floor and let the slinky material slide over my skin. Once I was fully dressed in it, I dared to peek at myself in the mirror; the lingerie left very little to the imagination. I’d already been shirtless in front of him, but this felt like something more. Still, the way the lace ended just under my butt cheeks seemed to accentuate their curves, and the built-in cups gave me cleavage I didn’t usually have. I let my hair out of its elastic confinement and let my waves fall down to my shoulders and took a deep breath, resolving my courage.

I opened the door and Taron’s back was to me as he stared out the glass balcony doors, but he turned around when I took a few steps into the room and audibly gasped. The way the moonlight slanted across his face sent shivers running down my spine as we stared across the space of the room at each other. Then, Taron was crossing the floor and pulling me into his arms, kissing me in a way he hadn’t before, heated and needy. And I did my best to open myself to that mutual want as his kisses traveled along my jawline, down my neck, across my shoulder blades.

Of course I wanted him; I didn’t live in a bubble separate from my own desires. I just needed to push beyond my fears. Almost as if reading my mind, Taron spoke up. “Please tell me to stop if you need me to. I respect you, I don’t want to push you anywhere you don’t want to be. But I need you,” he fairly whispered, his voice cracking a bit on that last sentence, and something about the way he said it broke through whatever was holding me back. 

Because it was more than just lust that drove us to the bed, although there was plenty of that as I hurriedly pulled his shirt off and unbuckled his belt, tossing both aside. There was a deeper sense of intimacy blossoming between us as we pushed his pants off him and he settled his weight over me, pressing me down into the bed, his fingers and lips trailing over my heated skin.

“This okay?” he murmured, his lips brushing over my stomach as I felt my core begin to throb in need. I hadn’t felt this turned on in so long, it almost truly made me want to cry. I was being awakened to feelings I long thought were dead, things I thought no one could ever make me feel again.

“Better than okay,” I moaned softly, remembering to breathe again as Taron rooted in the bedside drawer for a condom he must have stashed there in hopes. “I need you too,” I gasped softly as he hooked his fingers in the sides of my panties and slid them down my legs, exposing all of me to him.

“You’re absolutely beautiful,” he breathed, unable to tear his eyes aware from me, leaning over and capturing my lips with his kisses again even as he worked his own boxers off. I heard the crackle of the condom wrapper and then he was there, between my legs, his erection pressing tantalizingly against my inner thigh as he nipped at my lower lip slightly.

“Ready for me?” he asked as I got sort of lost in the depth of his lustful gaze. I nodded, letting him nudge my legs open just a little bit more with his knees as he lined his hips up with mine. I closed my eyes and ran my hands through his hair, trying to ground myself as I felt him slowly, gently enter me. The groan that rumbled through his body did more to erase my worries than anything else to that point. Seeing his careful reserve unravel at the feeling as he joined our bodies together unhinged me from my fears. I didn’t feel used, or dirty, or discarded; this was raw and real and powerful, and I was very much a part of what was happening here. This was what sex was meant to be all along.

He gazed at me so adoringly it made my heart ache with the weight of it. He let out his breath, tickling my face and making me giggle slightly as he waited for me to adjust to him; it had, admittedly, been years.

“Okay,” I whispered softly when I couldn’t take his stillness any longer. He obliged by drawing out and pushing his way back in agonizingly slowly, amplifying the pleasure that shot straight through me. I cried out, shocking myself even, the sparks running through me as he picked up his pace, our groans mingling together in the otherwise quiet of the room. I’m pretty sure I left red marks in his skin where I dug my fingertips into his shoulders, gripping him tightly as I lifted my own hips to meet his, finding a rhythm with him that had us both spiraling fast toward a climax.

“Oh fuck,” I moaned out, coming around him hard, my orgasm slamming into me and taking my breath away completely. I’m pretty sure I left the earth for a few minutes, because when I came aware again Taron was already collapsed on top of me, panting and sweaty and spent. It struck me suddenly that I had never actually orgasmed before, and I realized all my years of feeling ashamed over that fact were for nothing. I’d gotten close a couple of times with other boyfriends, or my own hand, but never tipped the edge and only been left with frustration. I’d simply never found someone invested in my own pleasure the way Taron was.

“Good for you?” he asked against my skin, leaving tiny kisses on my chest as we both tried to calm down again.

“You’ve just changed everything, Taron,” I replied softly.

“Yeah?” he said, with a boyishly handsome grin. I trailed my fingers through the sweaty hair on his chest, amazed to be with him this way.

“I can’t put it into words exactly, but I know and feel things now that I couldn’t have understood before,” I tried to explain. “You’re right, I do need to heal, and being with you like this has already helped me overcome so much I was frightened of or ashamed of before. I’ve been afraid of moving forward, afraid of taking risks, afraid of falling for someone again. But here I am, falling for you,” I rambled a bit, feeling emboldened to actually be vulnerable in front of him for once.

“I’m so grateful for that, you know,” he said, brushing my hair out of my face gently. “I know how hard it is to trust again after it’s been dashed. But I won’t ever let you hit the ground. I want you to fall so hard it’s endless, because I’ll always be here for you when you need me.” He kissed my forehead, my nose, my cheeks, even brushing his lips over my eyelids when I closed them, before finally kissing me fully on the lips, making me tremble with the full intimacy of the moment. I couldn’t possibly have known in the Tesco, or in the karaoke bar, or at our table read, that all of these moments would have built to this. But somehow it had, and I was blown away by how much Taron had come to mean to me. He supported me, cared about me, protected me and maybe even could love me.

“Stay right here, I’ll be back,” he said, making me whimper when he finally pulled out of me. He discarded the condom and went to grab a washcloth and cleaned us both up, something no one else had ever taken the time to do. We really hadn’t messed the sheets up so we didn’t have to change those, but I had to pee really badly so I finally excused myself to the bathroom to do that, making Taron chuckle slightly. I also brushed my teeth quickly and swallowed my birth control pill; I was on the pill because my periods sucked but now I had extra reason to not forget it. I returned to the room, pulling on more comfortable pajamas and noticing Taron had put his boxers back on as he was lounging on the bed, just waiting for me to come back to him, and I was happy to do so.

We laid down face-to-face on the pillows, our foreheads touching and just sweetly gazing at each other, not needing words any longer. My body felt completely sated, my mind finally at peace. When I drifted off to sleep I couldn’t have been happier, knowing I was truly, deeply cared for.

Vacationing in Dubrovnik with Taron was a dream, but will reality catch up to Jess? Find out in Part 9!

[the-observant-frisbeetarian]

Chapter 3 - Vino y Pasta

La Patisserie de la Rose by George deValier 

CHAPTER THREE Vino y Pasta

.

"Maybe this was not the best idea."

Matthew took one look at Francis' worried expression and felt his heart sink to his stomach. Francis had changed his mind. Matthew had been too boring, he hadn't spoken enough, he'd spoken too much, he didn't know how to flirt properly, he'd done this all wrong… "Oh. That's okay. I mean, I understand if you've changed…"

"No, no, no, my dear!" Francis smiled reassuringly and placed his hand lightly on Matthew's back. Matthew felt the touch like a burning, swelling spark beneath his skin. "Asking you on a date was, I believe, the best idea I have had all year. I'm just not certain if I chose the best place."

"Oh?" Matthew glanced around the bright, busy restaurant. What could Francis possibly be concerned about? The place seemed perfect.

"No, it should be fine." Francis spoke softly, as though to himself. "I'm sure they don't work on Fridays…" He was interrupted by a shriek.

"FRANCIS!" A short, grinning, amber-haired young man bounded across the full restaurant, pushing past bustling waiters and crowded tables, and threw his arms around Francis. "François, grand frère, I haven't seen you for so long! Not since Tuesday! Did you bring me cupcakes? No? That's okay, you can make me some for tomorrow night, with rainbow icing and sprinkles and you are going to Gilbert's party tomorrow night, aren't you? Did you know Antonio told him? Lovino was so cranky. Well, crankier than usual."

"Ah, Feli," said Francis, a forced smile on his lips. "So you are working tonight."

"Of course! It's been so busy we need all the staff we can get!"

Francis took Matthew's arm and started to slowly back away. "Is that right? I'm sure there are no free tables, then. Oh well, I guess we will be leaving…"

"No! Don't be silly! There's always room for family. I'll get you a table. LOVINO!" Francis winced at the shout and smiled apologetically at Matthew. The young man burst into a steady stream of rapid-fire Italian, quickly answered by further shouting from the kitchen across the room. No one in the restaurant seemed to take notice.

"I'm sorry," said Francis softly, speaking into Matthew's ear. "Like I said, maybe this wasn't…"

"No, it's fine!" Matthew had never been to a place like this before. The sound of loud speech and boisterous laughter blasted from every table; the smell of tomato and roasting garlic filled the air; vivid drawings of colourful food and the Italian countryside covered the walls. It felt warm, lively, friendly. In some strange way, it reminded Matthew of Francis' patisserie. The cheerful young man turned back towards them and spoke again in English.

"I'll show you to your usual table, of course you know the way though, you're lucky it's free because there's so many people tonight and oh!" The man broke off, stared wide-eyed at Matthew, and gasped loudly. "Hello!"

"Uh. Hello."

"Hello!" The little Italian put his hands to his mouth then wrung them frantically. "I'm so rude. Oh gosh, I'm sorry, I'm so rude, I didn't even… hello."

Matthew tried not to laugh. "Hello."

"Feliciano," said Francis, breaking smoothly into the short, broken excuse for a conversation. "This is Matthew. Matthew, my little cousin Feliciano."

Matthew held out his hand but, to his surprise, Feliciano threw his arms around him and squeezed him tightly. "Benvenuto, Matthew! I'm so, so happy to meet you! Welcome to Casa Vargas! Wow, you must be really special, you're the first one of Francis' boyfriends he's ever brought here! Well, I say boyfriends, but everyone knows Francis only uses them for s…"

"SO!" Francis shouted. "How about that table, Feliciano?"

"Oh, yes!" Feliciano released Matthew and bounced off into the restaurant. "Follow me!"

Matthew tried not to dwell on that earlier statement of Feliciano's, instead allowing Francis to take his hand and lead him through the bright, crowded room. He wondered if his work suit was tidy enough, then wondered if he was overdressed, then worried whether Francis expected to pay the bill, then hoped people weren't staring at their clasped hands, then Francis looked back and smiled. "I had no idea it would be this busy!"

Every doubt and worry flew from Matthew's mind. His cheeks turned warm and he returned the smile shyly. "I suppose that means the food is fantastic!"

His eyes fixed on Francis', Matthew barely noticed they had stopped until Feliciano turned and gestured theatrically to the table beside them. "Your table, signori! I shall return with your wine shortly!" He stared at Matthew, giggled, said, "Hello," once more, then ran off into the kitchen. Matthew reluctantly released Francis' hand, felt the need to let out a deep breath, and sat slowly at the table.

"He's, uh… cheerful."

"You have no idea, mon cher." Francis threw a quick, strangely nervous glance after Feliciano before taking the seat opposite Matthew.

The table was situated in a back corner of the restaurant, slightly removed from the other diners, which gave it a private, secluded feel. This had all happened so fast, but it suddenly struck Matthew that he was on a date – a date with a man he was very, very interested in. When was the last time that had happened? Actually, when had that ever happened? His natural shyness overtaking him, Matthew could only stare at the table. This was real now, this was a date, not just a casual morning at the patisserie before work. Matthew did not quite know what to say, what to do with his hands. He absently pushed the wine glass across the crisp white tablecloth, then reached out and touched the small candle holder in the centre of the table. Unexpected heat spread through his fingers. "Oh!" he said in surprise. "It's real!"

"Excuse me?"

Matthew looked up to see Francis staring amusedly at Matthew's fingers brushing over the little glass jar. Matthew immediately dropped his hand. "Oh, nothing, really. It's just, so many restaurants have those fake candles these days. It is nice to see a real one. It's more…"

"Romantique?"

Matthew felt his lips twitch and his skin warm at that familiar bright-eyed smile, that lilting, teasing tone. "I was going to say, honest."

"Of course. That describes the place quite well, really."

Matthew glanced around at the tables of families arguing over pizza, the couples gazing at each other over glasses of wine. "It is lovely. Warm and friendly. And your family own it?"

Francis nodded. "The Italian branch."

"There are branches?"

"Darling, my grandfather scattered children across the Mediterranean like petals to the wind. I am quite certain that entire future generations in the region would be able to trace their ancestry back to the man." Francis winked. "If only his grandchildren were the type to procreate."

Matthew leant forward, intrigued. "Which they're not?"

At that moment, Feliciano reappeared like a colourful miniature tornado beside them, grinning and bouncing and brandishing a bottle of red wine. "La vostra bottiglia di vino rosso, signori! Or, votre bouteille de vin rouge, Messieurs!"

"Or, Ihre Flasche Rotwein, Herren." Matthew shot a wry smirk at the bouncing brunet, who went immediately still, his eyes widening and his mouth dropping open. Matthew started to worry that he might have been rude or inappropriate, when Feliciano finally shouted a response.

"O mio Dio, Matthew, you speak German!"

"Oh, um..." Matthew blinked a few times, taken aback. He had only meant it as a light-hearted, throwaway reply to Feliciano's swift change of language. "Well, only a tiny bit, that was probably incorrect, I was just…"

"Can you teach me to say something?" Feliciano interrupted eagerly, his expression bright and earnest and intense. He didn't seem to notice Francis take the wine from his hand and proceed to pour it into the two glasses on the table. Matthew looked to him for help but Francis just suppressed a laugh behind a falsely innocent expression.

"Well, I'll try if I…"

"Can you tell me how to say, 'I love you?'" asked Feliciano excitedly.

Matthew's features relaxed into a soft smile. What a charming thing to ask. "Of course. It's 'Ich liebe dich'."

Feliciano's eyes were as wide as saucers and he practically jumped on the soles of his feet. "Oh! Thank you so much! Can you write it down for me? I'll have to get you a pen but ooh, first, also, how do you say, 'You're handsome and perfect'?"

Matthew bit back a laugh. Feliciano was too adorable. "Sie sind hübsch und perfekt."

"Grazie, Matthew!" said Feliciano breathlessly. "Just one more thing. How do you say, 'Fuck me harder, you magnificent, filthy German sex pig?'"

Matthew gasped, choked, and promptly broke into a fierce coughing fit. Francis smoothly pressed a glass of wine into his hand. Matthew gulped it down swiftly.

"Feli," said Francis lightly, "I don't think Matthew's German vocabulary extends that far. Why don't you ask Gilbert?"

Feliciano's face lit up. "Of course! Gilbert! Why didn't I think of that already? Merci, François, grand frère!" Feliciano bounced off again happily. Matthew glared at Francis over his glass, his eyes slightly wet from coughing.

"Why do I get the feeling that was quite a cruel suggestion?"

Francis shrugged innocently and took a sip of wine. "I've no idea, mon cher."

Matthew drank as well, bringing the last of his coughing under control. Well, that was certainly unexpected. "So, who is the magnificent, filthy German… uh…" Matthew trailed into a mumble and Francis giggled airily.

"Gilbert's little brother. He and Feliciano have been together a year or so."

"I see. So that's what you were referring to, earlier."

Francis winked, his dark blond hair falling across his sparkling blue eyes. "Let's just say that Grandpa has long resigned himself to the fact that he is unlikely to have great-grandchildren."

"Oh." Matthew paused to adjust to this new information. Meeting Francis' friends Gilbert and Roderich had been eye-opening in itself. Matthew was not used to meeting other gay men so openly; not in everyday situations like this. Yet Francis seemed to be surrounded by them. It was a far cry from Matthew's sheltered, small town upbringing. "So you know a lot of…" Matthew faltered over the sentence, but pressed on resolutely, "…gay men, do you?"

Francis laughed and settled back in his chair. "Darling, you've no idea!"

Matthew finished his glass of wine, feeling strangely small and ignorant. "I can't even imagine. I knew two other gay guys growing up. And one was my brother Alfred."

Francis' eyes lit up with interest. "You never told me you had a brother."

Matthew immediately regretted bringing the subject up. Even living in another city, another country, Alfred had overshadowed Matthew their entire lives. "Half brother, actually. We weren't even raised together, except for the holidays. His father is American - that's where he lives. The general consensus is that he's a more popular, more successful, better looking version of me."

Francis frowned disbelievingly. "More popular and successful, possibly. Better looking? I simply refuse to believe it, darling, unless this Alfred be a God."

Matthew scoffed incredulously, even as his neck burned at the praise. "Some might agree with that assessment of Alfred's divinity." Matthew was used to living in Alfred's shadow. But Francis made him feel special, for the first time in his life, so he had so far avoided bringing up the topic of his famous brother. But it was not the kind of thing he could hide forever. Matthew sighed deeply, met Francis' gaze evenly, and prepared himself for the gasping and gushing he had come to expect on this topic. "My brother is Alfred F Jones."

Francis' eyebrows furrowed for a moment before his face brightened in cautious understanding. "Oh! The baseball player… no?"

Matthew blinked a few times, then had to choke back a sigh of relief. "Gridiron."

"Gridiron…" Francis tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Ah oui, the silly game with the helmets. Yes, there was that scandal last year, wasn't there? The famous quarterback who came out and introduced his male English lover to the media. I vaguely remember seeing it in the papers. That was your brother?"

Matthew nodded. "I'm surprised you only heard it in passing. It caused a media meltdown in the States."

Francis waved a hand dismissively before reaching over to refill Matthew's glass. "I do not pay much attention to the news. I prefer to focus on positive things. Like my work, my patisserie. My friends. Art, music. Beautiful places. Beautiful people." Francis' compelling gaze held Matthew's as he pushed the glass towards him. "You, my dear." Francis' tone was blatantly seductive, the flash of his eyes sending a familiar shiver firing from Matthew's stomach downwards. Matthew picked up the glass to hide his reddening cheeks, but refused to lower his eyes. The lingering gaze was abruptly interrupted when a chair slammed down beside them and a dark haired man fell into it heavily. He leant against the table, his green eyes wide and unblinking, a daft but strangely discerning smile on his face.

"Hi."

"Hi," replied Matthew uncertainly, leaning away and holding the wine glass to his chest. What now? Another friend or cousin of Francis'? Why did they keep interrupting at the times like this?

The man's eyes flicked between Matthew and Francis, his expression positively beaming. "Hi."

Matthew wasn't sure whether to again respond in kind. Francis let out a resigned sigh. "Matthew, this is Antonio, a particularly irritating friend of mine. Antonio, can I help you? What are you even doing here?"

Antonio didn't answer. He leant towards Francis and hissed through clenched teeth, "Gilbert told me you had a boyfriend."

Matthew's stomach flipped at the word. Boyfriend… Francis just rolled his eyes. "Of course he did."

"He's cute." Antonio spoke in an exaggerated whisper.

"I know."

"He chose the éclair, didn't he?"

Matthew felt his cheeks burn. Did all of Francis' friends know about that? Francis glared at Antonio, who just smiled at Matthew obliviously. "What is this… this thing you're doing?"

Antonio turned to Francis, puzzled. "Thing?"

Francis let out an exasperated breath and touched his forehead. "This whispering thing. He can still hear you, you stupid Spaniard, he's right there."

Antonio scratched his head, turned back to Matthew, and broke back into a grin. "So pleased to meet you, Matthew. You're much better than looking than most of Francis' dates."

Now Francis hissed through clenched teeth. "Shut up."

Antonio ignored him. "Not that they're not good looking, only the very best for our Francis!"

Francis smiled desperately. "Please shut up."

Antonio beamed brightly. "So it's a compliment, you see."

Francis looked about ready to grab Antonio by the throat. "Oh mon Dieu, why can't you ever just shut up?"

Matthew listened silently, a small concern prodding gently at his mind. Feliciano had mentioned Francis' dates earlier, also. And then there was Francis and Gilbert's strange, whispered conversation that afternoon. Maybe Francis really did have some secrets hidden away…

Antonio waved a hand in Francis' face. "Shush, Francis. Matthew, you are coming to Gilbert's party tomorrow night, yes?"

Matthew shook the concern away and told himself not to be silly. So Francis went on a few dates. So what? That didn't mean that he wasn't interested in Matthew. After all, most guys dated a lot. But Matthew had never acted or spoken with anyone like this. It was like Francis brought out a part of him he never knew was there. And now he couldn't help wondering if Francis felt the same. He couldn't completely silence the tiny voice that asked – Does Francis treat everyone like this?

Matthew suddenly remembered he had been asked a question, but Francis spoke before he could answer. "Speaking of Gil's surprise party, Antonio…"

Antonio groaned loudly. "Oh, will everyone stop already, you know what he's like! It wasn't even me who told him, Feliciano let it slip that we were doing something! And then Gil cornered me in the kitchen, and threatened me with a spoon, and said that he'd tell Lovino about that lap dance in New York…"

"What lap dance in New York?"

Matthew felt the atmosphere turn cold. He glanced up at the young man beside them. One hand held a platter of bread and olives; the other rested rigidly on his hip. He looked very similar to Feliciano, but with darker hair and an angrier expression. Antonio turned white, then chuckled nervously. "Lovino, baby! That was something involving Gilbert, nothing to do with me!" Antonio shot Francis a manically gleeful stare. "Right, Francis?"

Francis shrugged distantly, his expression mildly triumphant. "I've nothing to do with this, mon ami." Antonio narrowed his eyes, but Francis just smirked.

Lovino raised his chin and stared down at Antonio shrewdly. "Hmm. We'll see. Antonio, get your fabulous ass back in the kitchen. We're understaffed and you're supposed to be helping."

"I'm being social!" Antonio whined indignantly.

Lovino tilted his head slowly, a dangerous glint in his eye. "New York, was it?"

Antonio almost knocked the chair over in his haste to get to his feet. "I must be off! See you tomorrow night, Matt! Francis…" Antonio leant over the table and hissed in Francis' ear, just loud enough for Matthew to overhear. "Not one word. Don't forget that I've got far more dirt on you than you'll ever have on me, amigo." Antonio straightened up, kissed Lovino on the cheek, and rushed back to the kitchen.

"Thank you, Lovino," said Francis, his pleasant tone starting to sound a little strained. "Matthew, this is my other little Italian cousin."

Lovino dropped the platter on the table with a dull thud. He kept his eyes fixed on Francis and spoke before Matthew could say a word. "Whatever. Here's your entrée. What lap dance in New York?"

Francis' expression remained impassive as he picked up an olive from the plate. "Do you know, I believe you should bring that up with Roderich."

Lovino glared at Francis, then glanced sideways at Matthew. Matthew smiled tentatively back. "Right," said Lovino. He put his hands on the table and leant over Francis. "You'd better not be hiding anything from me, cugino. Don't go forgetting the things I know about you." Francis popped the olive in his mouth and smiled. Lovino stood straight, nodded at Matthew, then turned and marched into the kitchen.

Francis closed his eyes, released a deep breath, took a long sip of wine, and smiled apologetically. "I am truly sorry. But, where were we? Tell me more about… you." Francis wagged his eyebrows and Matthew suppressed a laugh. Instead, he raised an eyebrow and tried to look unimpressed.

"Really? Now? That's your line?"

Francis groaned and fell back in his chair. "It's no use, is it. I'm completely obstructed in here."

Matthew lowered his head to hide his amused smile. It was nice to see Francis as the flustered one, for once. "Well," he said, brushing his hair back and trying to wipe his smile away, "I've been telling you about me all week. There's not much more to tell."

Francis raised an eyebrow deviously. "There is always more to tell."

"Oh?" Matthew straightened up and raised his chin. "All right then, François." Francis upper lip twinged at the teasing tone. "Tell me. Why did you leave Paris? Some scandal, perhaps?" Matthew gasped softly, dramatically. "A jilted lover? A political outrage? A dangerous past starting to catch up with you?"

A tiny eyebrow twitch; the slightest rise at the corner of Francis' lip. He lowered his lashes and said breathily, "Do you really wish to know, mon cher?"

Matthew rested his chin on his hand and leant forward across the table. "I told you once, remember? I'd love to hear all your dirty secrets."

Francis groaned at the back of his throat, then sucked in a breath through his teeth. He shot forward until he was so close Matthew could feel his warm breath on his cheek. "If you insist. The truth is…"

"Where is he?" A deep, accented voice suddenly boomed through the noisy restaurant. "Where is the boy my Francis finally brought home to his grandpa?"

Matthew laughed in disbelieving disappointment. Francis closed his eyes and put his hands to his head. "Mathieu, my dear, we can leave right now…"

Matthew sat back and smirked. "I'm actually sort of enjoying watching you squirm."

Francis' blue eyes flashed then narrowed. "You sadistic little… Grandpa Roma!" Francis stood quickly and was immediately embraced by a tall, dark haired man who kissed both his cheeks. Matthew smiled pleasantly, prepared himself to remain polite and quiet and civil, and wondered how long this interruption would take.

"Francis, my boy! Where have you been lately? Too busy for your own family? No time to see your old grandpa?" Francis' grandfather looked surprisingly young. He had the same features as Feliciano and Lovino, but Matthew could see Francis in the man's wild gestures and dancing eyes. He held Francis at arm's length and looked him up and down. "Are you eating properly, Francis? You can't live on cake and biscuits, my boy!"

Francis' face was red. Matthew couldn't help thinking it was rather endearing. "Yes, Grandpa, I know. Now, please…"

"And, Matthew!" Roma released Francis and turned. Matthew scrambled to his feet and held out his hand, but, once again, was pulled into a strong hug. "Welcome, benvenuto!"

"Um… pleased to meet you…" Matthew choked out. Roma released him and he gasped for air. He was then pushed to arms length as Roma looked him over. From the corner of his eye Matthew could see Francis standing with one hand over his face.

"Oh, aren't you handsome!" cried Roma. "Good taste does run in the family. Well done, Francis, my boy, well done! What do you do, Matthew?"

"I'm an accountant," Matthew answered quickly.

"Accountant, hmm? What kind of tax breaks can you swing for us?" Matthew tried to stammer an uncertain response before Roma clapped him on the shoulder and laughed raucously. "Joking, I'm joking, Matthew!"

"Are you done?" asked Francis through tightly stretched lips. "I didn't actually realise the entire family would be working tonight." Francis' voice was dangerously strained.

"Of course you didn't! I'm sure you have more important things to do than be interrupted by your obnoxious relatives all evening. So…" Roma whistled and, seconds later, a waiter appeared carrying a plastic bag of food containers and a second bottle of wine. Roma smiled at Matthew and winked. "So get out of here."

Matthew decided he liked Francis' grandpa.

.

"This is incredible!" said Matthew for the third time, halfway through the most delicious carbonara he'd ever tasted. He had barely even paused so far to worry about the mess he was probably making, trying to eat fettuccine off his knees from a plastic container with a plastic fork. Of course he knew there were a few sauce stains on his shirt, and he was hyper-aware of Francis' eyes on him, but these smooth, rich, bursting tastes on his tongue made all of that too unimportant to worry about. Francis laughed softly beside him.

"The best pasta outside of Italy. Perhaps, even, anywhere."

Matthew stared out at the bright lights reflected on the water. This place really wasn't as bad as he had thought at first. Sitting here on this bench beside Francis, eating pasta and passing a wine bottle back and forth, the city actually looked quite beautiful. The night was strangely warm despite the season, a light dusting of stars shone faintly above the glittering skyline, and few people passed them where they sat on the walkway by the river. Matthew swallowed another mouthful of the creamy pasta, then glanced at Francis from the corner of his eye. "So, making magic with food is a family trait, is it?"

"A gift, and a curse." Matthew raised an eyebrow curiously. Francis' eyes twinkled with familiar mischief. "Legend has it that a distant relative was head chef to an Emperor of Rome."

"Oh?" With an effort, Matthew kept his twitching lips from turning in a smile. "Which one?" he asked, straight faced.

Francis waved a hand with effortless grace. He had finished his own pasta, but was still as perfectly neat and refined as always. Francis ate as elegantly as he did everything else. "Oh, one of those emperors who liked his food, you know."

"Caligula?" Matthew guessed randomly.

"Oui, yes, that will do. Anyway, this story goes, that the Emperor was to hold a very large, very important feast. The night before the feast, he called his head chef to the throne. The Emperor then told him that if he did not create the most wondrous, most amazing, most delicious meal ever tasted, then he would have the chef crucified." Francis paused to take a sip of wine from the bottle, then passed it to Matthew. "The chef was, naturally, rather worried. So he called upon the dark God of the underworld, Hades."

"As you do." Matthew hid a smirk by taking a swig from the bottle.

Francis' eyes narrowed just slightly, but he continued smoothly. "He made a pact with the God. In exchange for the greatest culinary talent known to the world, the chef would give his soul to the dark underworld. And in return, all his descendants would be blessed with the same talent, and the same curse. Unless…" Francis trailed off teasingly.

"Unless?" prompted Matthew, his eyes held to Francis' in an amused, magnetic gaze.

"Unless, through their talent, the descendant is able to make just one good, pure hearted person fall in love with them. If we can do this, we are saved from the curse."

Matthew raised his eyebrows sceptically. "One of pure heart? It's like a Disney movie."

Francis' voice, always smooth as liquid sugar, came slightly deep, amused, and almost rough. "Someone like you, mon cher."

A shudder of desire rippled through Matthew's spine, but he laughed dismissively and looked back out at the river. "How many boys have you given that line to, I wonder."

Francis ignored him. "But, there is a catch."

Matthew took a sip of the strong red wine. "Isn't there always."

"I feel you aren't taking this seriously, my dear." Matthew felt his eyes drawn back, and Francis' eyes seemed to challenge him. The look set Matthew's skin afire. He attempted a sarcastic smile, but wasn't sure he pulled it off.

"Oh no, please. Tell me. What's the catch?"

Francis reached for the wine bottle, wrapping his hand around Matthew's. Matthew felt the touch shoot downwards through his veins. Francis' returned Matthew's teasing smile… his was much more successful. "If we are able to make this good, pure hearted person fall in love with us, then we gain our soul… but we lose our talent."

"Is that right?" Matthew was fairly certain that his breathy tone ruined his attempt at sarcasm. "If that's the case then… is it worth it?"

Francis slowly raised the bottle to his lips, not releasing Matthew's hand around it. He drank slowly, his eyes not moving from Matthew's. "Love or renown. It is an easy choice, no?"

Matthew felt suddenly too vivid, too aware. Francis' firm warmth beside him, the gentle pressure of his fingers, the siren flash of his eyes. But even in this close, falling, blood-quickening moment, Matthew tried to shake the worries from his head, his concerns about the constant mentions of dates and boyfriends, the nagging doubt about how many times Francis had said these words. "It is an interesting legend," he finally managed to say. "Do you think you will evade the curse?"

Francis smiled and winked. "I'm working on it."

Matthew dropped his gaze, his neck burning. He put the lid back on the plastic container and placed it on the bench beside him, then took another sip from the wine bottle. He was beginning to really feel it's effects. "So, Francis," he asked abruptly. "Why did you leave?"

"Leave?" asked Francis, confused.

"Why did you leave Paris for Canada?"

Francis turned to face Matthew on the bench, then rested his elbow on the backrest behind them. "I hunger for new experiences, Mathieu. You never know what life will bring you. Sometimes it is hard to leave what you have always known; but then, sometimes it brings you something you would otherwise never have dreamt of."

Matthew felt warmth fill his chest at the words. It was like Francis was describing Matthew's own experience. He never would have dreamt that leaving his small, quiet town would lead him to someone like Francis. The entire evening since they had left the restaurant had flowed evenly, easily. It was so natural to talk with Francis, to just be with him. But more than natural; it was exciting. The not so subtle glances, the bright and hidden smiles, the flicks of hair and bitten lips and brief brushes of hands and feet. The awareness that they both knew what was going on and where this was leading; the sweet anticipation and aching wait to get there. But now that the night was growing quieter, and the silences between them longer, Matthew could not stop his mind going again through the earlier conversations. He asked the question before he properly thought it through. "Do you go on a lot of dates, Francis?"

Francis' sharp breath and brief silence gave the answer. But then he laughed flippantly. "Please, it is nothing. You know how friends and family are. They love to make such drama out of nothing."

Matthew accepted the response for the moment. After all, it was not his place to pry. "I understand. Alfred is the same."

"I would like to meet Alfred."

The very thought of it drained the blood from Matthew's face. He shook his head, eyes wide. "No."

Francis smiled, even as his expression turned puzzled. "Why not?"

Matthew said it before he could stop himself. "Because everyone likes him best."

Francis looked amused and sceptical. "We will see about that. But let us not speak of your brother. You did not tell me about work today."

Matthew could feel his face fall. He shrugged and stared at the river. "There is nothing to tell. It was the same as every day."

"You do not like your job."

Matthew's eyes shot up. Francis rested his chin on his hand, a mixture of curiosity and empathy on his face. Matthew sighed and shrugged one shoulder. "It is a job. I am lucky."

"But it is not a passion."

Matthew frowned, a little annoyed – what an unfair thing to say. "Very few people get to do what they love, Francis."

"And what do you love?" Matthew didn't answer. He didn't know how to answer. Francis just asked again. "What did you want to be? As a child?"

Matthew laughed shortly. "A professional hockey player."

"And why did you give up?"

Matthew rolled his eyes. "It's not a very feasible goal, is it?"

"Well, even if it is not... you love to skate? To play?"

Matthew looked down into the almost empty bottle as he thought about the question. He did love skating - so much. He hadn't thought of it in years. Because, well… because it was pointless, wasn't it? "Well… yes, but…"

"Do you still skate?" Matthew looked up at that. In the reflected light from the river, Francis' eyes seemed to pierce right through him.

"No. I have no time. But..." Matthew was unsure why he paused.

Francis tilted his head slightly. "But?"

"Well..." Memories rose unbidden. Gliding alone on a lake of ice as his breath misted before him and the sun descended in the clear, darkening sky. Racing across a busy skating rink, easily dodging slower skaters and leaving Alfred struggling to catch up behind. The heart racing excitement before every game, the wild, giddy thrill of winning which nothing since had ever managed to match. "I loved hockey as a kid. Even just skating around on the ice, on my own. I always thought it would be nice to own a little skating rink, one without the politics and snobbery you sometimes get. Just somewhere friendly, where kids could learn, with hockey and dance lessons and a little café by the rink." Matthew shrugged and brushed his hair back, a little embarrassed. "Huh. I've never told anyone that." Matthew startled when he felt Francis' hand touch his, brushing the hair from his face. The touch raised goosebumps on Matthew's neck.

Francis met Matthew's gaze, and was quiet for a few moments. His voice, when he spoke, was not teasing or laughing or rough. It was simply honest. "I hope to hear many more things you have never told anyone."

.

The walk to Francis' patisserie took twice as long as it should have. They ambled along slowly, arms almost touching, Matthew's stomach twisting in knots every time their hands brushed together briefly. They had barely spoken since leaving the river, but it felt perfectly comfortable like this. Like they did not need to speak. When Francis suddenly stopped it took Matthew a few moments to notice why - they were standing at the patisserie door. His twisting stomach flipped completely. He turned slowly to face Francis, their eyes meeting level.

"So. Well. Um. Thank you for your company." Matthew found himself reverting to politeness, as he always did when slightly nervous. "And for asking me to dinner. I had a wonderful time."

"I can not apologise enough for earlier..." Francis looked down at the ground and ran a hand through his loose blond hair. "Ah, it was a complete disaster."

Matthew snickered softly. "Well, yes. But interesting."

Francis sighed dramatically and raised his eyes from the ground to the sky. "How I wanted out first date to be perfect and romantic, darling. Not… 'interesting.'"

"Oh, it wasn't so bad." Matthew was actually rather relieved that Francis was not always as suave and perfectly charming as he had been at first. Matthew did not know how long he could have kept up with that. "Besides, this is turning out rather 'perfect and romantic' right here."

"Hm." Francis sighed softly and lowered his eyes again. "I do believe you may be correct, Monsieur."

Matthew's heart beat faster at Francis' piercing stare. "Besides, I enjoyed meeting your family. And I'll get to meet more of your friends tomorrow also, won't I?"

Francis' eyes narrowed, his expression slightly devious. "You're meeting far too many from my side. I shall have to get even, my dear."

Matthew shrugged apologetically. "It's only Alfred on my side, I'm afraid. Or, well, there is Kumajiro."

Francis' eyebrows shot up. He looked rather thrown. "Kumajiro?"

Matthew met Francis' eye as evenly as he could manage. "Yes. He lives with me. He shares all my secrets, and sleeps in my bed every day, and watches over me every evening." At Francis' puzzled expression, Matthew gave in and smiled. "My teddy bear."

Francis' face softened and he chuckled lightly. "Well. Just when I think you can get no more adorable, my darling."

Matthew looked down and wondered just where this was going: the constant eye contact, the hand brushing, this fluttering heat and this warm, familiar feeling. But he didn't want to push, he didn't want to mistake this, he didn't… but then Francis took a step towards him and rested his hand lightly on Matthew's hip. Matthew's eyes flew up and his lips parted. Heat spread from Francis' hand over his hip, across his back, through his stomach, shooting lower and spreading like fire. Francis' blue eyes burned into his and sent a flutter through Matthew's shoulders. He leant closer and, just as Matthew realised Francis was about to kiss him, he closed the final gap himself. Their lips touched firmly, softly, and Matthew moaned, unable to stop it.

This culmination of the week's glances and touches and playful words shot through Matthew like a jolt of electricity. He rested his hands on Francis' shoulders, then lowered them over his back. Francis pulled him closer by the hips and thrust further into the kiss. And oh, not that Matthew had a lot to compare him to, but Francis was the most amazing kisser in Matthew's limited experience. His tongue so light and firm, his lips gentle but strong, his soft hair tickling Matthew's cheek and smelling faintly of lavender; the overwhelming sense of Francis' feel and scent, the taste of tomato and mint and still the faintest hint of chocolate… Matthew reluctantly broke the kiss to gasp for air, faintly aware that he had barely breathed for a minute or so. He laughed shakily, his arms still holding to Francis firmly.

"Well," said Francis breathlessly, his lips brushing Matthew's as he spoke, "I suppose it is true what they say about hockey players."

Matthew quickly wracked his brains for an explanation. "Something about sticks?"

Francis stifled an amused snicker. "No. That they find an opening and get it in." Matthew just stared for a moment, a little thrown off. Thankfully, Francis clarified. "Hockey players. Find an opening. It's a dreadfully bad pun, I know. Um... this is terribly awkward. Can we just kiss again, please?"

Matthew nodded quickly. "Yes." The second kiss was as powerful as the first, but with bright, uncontainable laughter rising between their lips. Matthew had never felt something so right as this, so comfortable, so perfectly natural and easy and knee-weakingly arousing.

But what now? Was Francis going to ask him to come in? Was that how this worked? Matthew had only been on a few dates, but from what everyone said Francis seemed to have been on so many. He suddenly worried again just what that meant. Then he worried about that strange look of conflict in Francis' eyes, that slight uncertainty in his face, and again Matthew feared he had done something wrong. He started to drop his hands, but Francis grasped his arms at the last minute. "Have breakfast with me."

Matthew could only nod. "What time do you want me?" The words came out breathier than he intended. Francis groaned.

"Don't tempt me. As early as you can be here, darling. I start baking at four."

Matthew bit his lip, nodded, and tried to tell himself this was a good sign. Francis wasn't inviting him in, but he obviously still wanted to see him – he probably just wanted to take things slowly. "I like to sleep in on Saturday," said Matthew in what he hoped was an indifferent tone. "Shall we say, eight?"

"Mm." Francis pulled Matthew close again by the waist. All thoughts of indifference flew away at Francis' lips on his cheek, his lips, his jaw, his ear… "I shall await your arrival with bated breath and maple syrup crepes."

Matthew laughed shakily at the hot breath on his ear. "Then I shan't be late… mon cher."

.

Next Chapter

Disclaimer: This story belongs to George deValier. Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya. I own nothing.

[elles-choices]

The Quarterback: Chapter Five (AU, Chris x MC, NSF*W)

Summary: Chris Powell is a star Quarterback stuck in a toxic relationship. Laura Davis is a writer looking for some inspiration for her new book. They went to the same college. They’ve heard about each other but their paths never crossed… not until they catch the same flight.

Pairing: Chris x MC (Laura)

Disclaimer: Some characters belong to Choices by Pixel Berry

——————

Chapter Five: Bye Bye Baby

Chris stares at the photos she handed him in complete disbelief. He sits down shaking his head - he knows Becca is capable of many things but he never thought she could stoop so low.

“Are you seriously threatening to share a sex tape we made in my freshman year?”, he lays the photos on the table. “You would expose yourself... You would allow everyone to see you having sex with me just to destroy any chance I have of a happy relationship? Or what is it that your twisted mind wants from me?”, he pinches the bridge of his nose, wondering what is going on. He can’t believe he spent so many years with this woman and had no idea of what she was really capable of.

Becca smiles, “Oh Chris, do you think I’m this naive?”, she leans over the table, brushing her hand over his strong arms. “I was just trying to get your attention, silly! But now that I have you all to myself...”, before she ends her sentence Chris stops her.

He takes her hand off him, “You don’t own any part of me, Becca. Whatever you think you will accomplish with this talk, it’s not going to be us getting back together! This is final”, his voice is stern.

Becca stares at Chris, she can barely recognize his self-confidence, “Chris, what is going on?”

“I hate your mind games. I hate that I needed so many years to break free from you... I’m disgusted”, he shakes his head, “Tell me what do you want, is it money?”

She laughs, “Money? Yeah, you stopped paying my bills... but no, I am not trying to blackmail you for money. Why should I do that? You will give me it anyway...”

“You are delusional! I think you should go see a doctor... I’m done with you, Becca. If you have anything to tell me I advise you to contact my lawyer otherwise I will call the police”, he gets up and starts making his way to the door.

“I’m pregnant”, she says raising her voice, “And yes, I’m sure... it’s yours!”

Chris turns around slowly, feeling as if he had been punched in the gut, “What are you talking about? The last time we had sex was like almost three months ago... and I always used protection”

“I don’t need to explain to you how these things work, Chris. You are going to be a father, aren’t you happy about it? We could stop this discussion and go home... you and me. I’ll take care of you, baby, I’ll take care of you real good”, she walks up to him, wrapping her arms around him.

He closes his eyes, pushing her gently away from him, “If you are pregnant and in case it’s mine, I will take care of my baby but it doesn’t mean that we will get back together, Becca”, he pauses, taking a deep breath, “We are done! And don’t you go to my house... I changed the locks!”, he turns around and leaves but before he walks through the door, she says:

“It’s not over until I say so!”, she yells.

——————

An hour later...

The door bell rings and Laura hears urgent knocks on her front door. It’s not so late but she is not waiting any visitors. She doesn’t know what just happened or how Becca found them but she had to leave. She felt as if she was intruding, she felt like the other woman and this is not what she wants in a new relationship.

She gets up from the couch and walks to the door. Looking through the peephole she sees Chris and taking a deep breath, she opens the door.

“What are you doing here?”, she asks confused, “I thought you were with Becca”.

Chris steps towards her, “Can I come in?”, the tone in his voice is almost like begging. 

“Are you sure Becca didn’t follow you? I don’t want more drama tonight, especially not in my home!”, she says nervously.

Chris nods, “Yeah, I don’t know how she found us but I parked my car on the main road and left my phone in there, just in case”. Laura steps to the side letting him in. He reaches for her hand and they walk to the living room.

“Would you like a drink?”, she asks as he sits down on the couch.

“Do you have Scotch?”, he sigh and she nods, “Bring the bottle, we will need it!”. 

Laura giggles, “I have a feeling we really will. But why don’t we order something to eat first? You must be starving... I know I am”.

“Is pizza okay?”, he asks  and she nods, “You take care of the drinks and I will get us something to eat”, he gets up, making a call and heads to the door. Thirty minutes later he is home with food from the restaurant around the corner. They sit down on the table and enjoy their food, having some moments of peace before Chris tell her about his talk with Becca.

After cleaning the dishes together, they head to the living room. Laura sits next to Chris and grabs his hand, giving him a squeeze, “So, what is it you wanna talk about?”

“Laura... before I tell you what I got to say, I want you to know one thing”, he takes a deep breath, “I really like you and I like the person I am when I am with you”

She nods, looking at him nervously, “Chris, you are scaring me... what is going on?”. He looks into her eyes and explains what happened at the restaurant after she left. He told her about the sex tape, the money, her pregnancy. 

“I don’t wanna hide anything from you, beautiful. I don’t wanna have anything between us...”, he sees in her eyes how shocked she is, “Please, say something”.

Laura stands up, pacing in front of him, “A baby?!”, she stops in front of him, “Are you sure you are completely done with her? A baby... a baby is a serious thing, Chris. I don’t want to get invested in this if there is any chance of you two getting back together”.

Chris stands up, walking up to her and wrapping his arms around her, “I would never ever, not in a million years, get back with Becca. I know... if she is pregnant and if its mine, I know it won’t be easy on you, on us to have this mad woman in our lives but I want to reassure you that she is my past and I really want to have a future with you, Laura. I really do”. She raises her head to look at him and he places a kiss on her lips, gently caressing her cheeks. “I would like for us to spend a couple of days in Napa, just you and me. Get out of all of this, what do you say?”

She raises herself on tiptoes and look deep into his eyes, “I’d like that... but I really want you to think about what I told you first. I don’t have a problem with you having a child. But I really want you to think about everything...”

“I don’t need to”, he says and sighs, “But okay... I’ll do this for you!”.

Laura takes his hand and he follows her upstairs, “I hope you don’t mind to take the spare room for tonight?!”. She looks at him and smiles.

“I don’t mind waiting for you... I know you are worth it”

——————

Sunday afternoon...

Chris looks over to Laura and smiles.

“Keep your eyes on the road, Chris! If I have to repeat it one more time, I swear I will drive to Napa myself!”, she says, giggling.

Chris lets out a laugh, doing as she said, “I had fun at your friends’s engagement brunch but I am so looking forward to spend these days alone with you”.

Laura smiles laying her hand on his thigh, “Have you thought about our talk?”

“I did”, Chris turns into a dirty road, bringing the car to a stop. He looks deep into her eyes, cupping her cheeks, “I am here with you, am I not? I’m not looking back, I am looking at you. You are what I want”, he smiles, closing the distance between them - Chris feels her breath getting closer and closer. As if time had stopped, he loses himself in her green eyes. Her warm lips touch his, hungry for the taste of him. His tongue enters her mouth, slowly moving, caressing hers. His hand runs through her hair, resting on the back of her neck, deepening the kiss. She nibbles on his bottom lip before pulling away.

She smiles and says, still with her eyes closed, “It’s official...You are the best kisser!”, she opens her eyes and brushes her fingers along his jawline.

“Only because you taste so good...”, he turns on the car and they continue on their way to a winery hotel. When they arrive there, Chris takes her hand and they go to the reception, “Good afternoon, I have a reservation under the name of Christopher Powell”.

The young man seems to recognize Chris and smiles friendly, “Good afternoon, sir”. He check on the computer, “I see you booked two rooms for two nights, is it correct?”

“Yes, it is”, Chris puts his arm around Laura’s waist.

“Actually”, she says, “We are taking one room only”, she glances at Chris and smiles.

The young man watches the glances between them and blushes, “Very well... you have the honeymoon suite”.

The room is large and in rustic Mediterranean style interior. There is an ample bed in the centre of the room with white bedding. The walls are beige and there are many wooden details. The is a full length mirror on the wall left to the bed. There is a seating area closer to the window and a bar cart.

As Chris walks in, he heads to the bar, “Would you like something to drink, beautiful?”, he says looking at the wine on display, “What about a glass of white wine?”, he glances back to see Laura in front of the mirror. He can feel the electricity in the room growing with excitement. Laura reaches behind her back and pull down the zip, wiggling out of the tight red dress. It slides down her legs and she steps out of it. Chris holds his breath as he sees her beautiful body for the first time. She reaches behind her back to unfasten her bra and he says, “Let me help with that...”. He walks behind her, easing it off her shoulders and breasts. She turns around to face him, “God, you are beautiful”. He grasp her panties by their waist and slide them down to the ankles, letting it fall. He reaches down and began massaging between her legs, her hidden lips between his thumb and middle finger. She places her hands on his shoulders and begins to softly moan. Chris feels the arousal taking over him by the feeling of her moisture in his hand. “Oh baby, I want you so bad...”, he says.

“Then take me...”, she whispers and he feels his manhood poke against his pants. Chris picks her up and takes her to bed before hastily undressing. He gets on top of her, kissing her lips hungrily. He works his way down, kissing each inch of her body, making it his as if it was a new conquered continent. He gently spread her legs to reveal her swollen wet folds, lowering his mouth to it - she yells his name when she feels his tongue exploring every tiny space of her sex. “Chris... I can’t... I... don’t want to wait anymore!”, she moans in between.

Chris smiles, heading up again, kissing her breasts, sucking on her nipples before kissing his way upwards. He reaches her lips, watching her as he slowly buries his 9 inches into her. For the first time he heard her cursing and he begins to pumping into her. It never felt this good with anyone else, he thinks. He buries his head on the crook of her neck and groans loudly, biting it gently. “This is so fucking good, baby”, he enjoys the sounds of her moans as the pace of his thrust increases - she presses her hips against him. Her walls begin contracting against his massive member and she turns her head to the side, moaning and screaming into a pillow. He pumps faster and deeper into her for several minutes until he finds his release. Chris falls to her side, smiling like a fool while trying to catch his breath. “Fuck... I barely tasted you and I’m already addicted”, he turns his head to her and she smiles.

“Good because I want so much more of you...”, she gets closer to him laying her head on his muscular chest, still feeling the aftershocks of her orgasm. Suddenly Chris’ phone vibrates. he reaches for it on the nightstand and sees a text:

“Sorry to disturb your romantic trip. We have an appointment tomorrow. Don’t you wanna hear your baby’s heartbeat? x, Becca”

To be continued…

For more chapters go to my MASTERLIST in my bio.

——————

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[lindsayruebens]

The Grand #5-10-30

Last fall, Kane and I had two Frontier flight vouchers burning a hole in our pockets.

Also that fall, we celebrated being together for a decade. And then I turned 30 in December. April is Kane’s 30th birthday. And May is our fifth wedding anniversary.

And, for the past five years, we had exclusively used our vacation days for traveling to see family during the holidays and weddings. We were not only ready to celebrate but extremely ready for a vacation, and ready to do it up big.

Enter what my social-media-eschewing husband has persistently referred to as the #5-10-30 trip (yes I know there are no hyphens in real hashtags, but here we are), and he did so persistently enough that I too eventually broke down and also called it The 5-10-30.

Direct Frontier flights from Philadelphia narrowed our options considerably, and we wanted to pick somewhere we’d never been, so Denver it was. My parents very generously offered to watch Russ in Pennsylvania for a week, and after lots of research and planning, that’s how the best vacation Kane and I have ever had, or shall I say, The #5-10-30 Trip, materialized.

We rented a 2019 Nissan Rogue and basically did a loop beginning and ending in Denver. I kept a detailed journal of the trip, but I’ll spare you the less-thrilling details and share the highlights:

Day 1: Afternoon/evening in Denver

(^Ready for takeoff to Denver!)

Great AirBnB cottage in the LoHi neighborhood. After meeting us, our host ran into her house to bring us her own nice bottle of tequila, limes and shot glasses to start off our trip on a celebratory note. Cheers!

Speaking of cheers, we recommend the Recess Beer Garden, where we watched Virginia win the national title.

Day 2: Denver/Colorado Springs

We kicked breakfast off at Bacon Social House with a flight of bacon. And because we’re corny, we gave serious thought to ranking the six bacon styles (French toast was my fav, barbecue was Kane’s). Scissors for sharing the slices were included.

Next up: Garden of the Gods in Colorado Springs. The red rock formations were breathtaking, and we’re glad we went to the visitor’s center for info on hiking trails. Great views of both Garden of the Gods and Pikes Peak.

Another fantastic AirBnB in Old Colorado City, and delicious dinner — just say yes to the brisket grilled cheese and lamb sliders — outside at Cerberus Brewing Company while watching the sun set behind the Rockies.

Day 3: Colorado Springs

We spent much of this day in the earth.

First stop was Cave of the Winds. Holy cow, do the Lantern Tour if you can. Our self-described hippie tour-guide, John, thoroughly scared us before we even began, warning us of having to walk crouched low for a couple of minutes through under-4-foot-high tunnels, that we’d only be walking by the light of candle-lit lanterns (hence the name Lantern Tour) and that we were about to enter the supposedly most haunted caverns in North America. It’s not a tour for the faint of heart (nor the arthritic). Learned the history of the 19th-century pioneers who took ownership of the caves and held exotic parties in them, and of course there was a generous helping of spooky ghost stories.

(^Our only photo in the cave before the tour began-- not the kind of setting to take a selfie!)

Back in the sunlight, we had lunch at Ivywild School, an elementary school-turned community center/local business spot/brewery.

Dinner in downtown Colorado Springs at The Rabbit Hole, also underground. We did actually try rabbit with the Bunny Bites appetizer… a drier, leaner version of chicken nuggets.

Day 4: Cañon City/Nathrop

Spent the day at the Royal Gorge in Cañon City. The gondola ride across was slightly panic-inducing, but offered amazing views; informative short movie about the Gorge in onsite theater; then walks across America’s tallest suspension bridge. The gaps between some of the wooden planks of the floor allowed you to see all the way to the Arkansas River flowing below. YIKES. Of course Kane insisted we really feel “fully alive,” and so we were the only ones nutty enough to go back and forth several more times in the wind. Don’t worry, I felt super-alive, and thankfully, remained in such a state.

Spectacular mountain drive along Route 50 to Nathrop, where we checked in at the Mt. Princeton Hot Springs Resort. It’s in the San Isabel National Forest.

(^Serious room with a view.)

That evening we donned bathing suits in 30-something degree weather to recline in the hot springs of Chalk Creek. We laid our heads on rocks, stared at the stars and crescent moon overhead and enjoyed deep conversation that also included momentarily pretending we were contestants on The Bachelor, because it was such an over-the-top date, and I assured Kane I was most certainly there for the right reasons.

Day 5: Nathrop/Breckenridge

Hot springs again in the bright morning sunshine before driving to Breckenridge, which was a little insane with hairpin turns up and down mountains. We drove through Alma, North America’s highest incorporated town, and were relieved to make it to our AirBnB. Then: A scrumptious sushi lunch downtown at The Blue Fish and perusing the town’s many shops.

We called up the Lost Bus, owned and operated by the Broken Compass Brewing, which picks up people for free from downtown Breckenridge to its brewery site a few miles away. This was my favorite brewery of the trip! Fantastic craft beers and great local vibe.

Then we walked about half a mile down the road to Flight Club for food. It was an extremely local experience (complete with a guy glass-blowing pipes next to the bar!) and even featured a local battle-of-the-bands winner, Hollywood Farmers, who were actually quite talented.

(^My view from the bar. Just some casual glass-blowing, dudes.)

Day 6: Boulder

A crazy drive to Boulder on Route 70 with foggy snow showers. But we made it in one piece to Chautauqua Park and hiked around the Flatirons on the Enchanted Mesa Trail and loved it.

Lunched at Roxie’s Tacos, where they served amazing Mexican-Indian fusion in the lovely campus area of CU-Boulder, then drove to the Celestial Seasonings headquarters for a free tea tour and samples. A highlight was the peppermint room! Free aromatherapy.

Checked into a Courtyard Marriott and ate at Avery Brewing Company.

Day 7: Boulder/Denver

Amazing breakfast at Lucile’s in adorable downtown Boulder. Walked around Pearl Street Mall, where the tulip beds were in bloom. If I had to choose one of the places we visited to move, I’d pick Boulder!

Drove back to Denver and attended a beautiful Palm Sunday Mass at the Cathedral Basilica of the Immaculate Conception. Proceeded to a tour of the Molly Brown House. Loved learning her incredible story: a rags-to-riches miner’s wife, Titanic survivor, philanthropist, winner of French Legion of Honor… Google her if you have time!

On to Stranahan’s Colorado Whiskey for a delightful distillery tour. We learned how it was made and aged and also how to properly drink whiskey. Not sure I’m a converted whiskey-drinker, but loved every minute of the tour.

We ended our trip where we began, in the LoHi neighborhood, at a fantastic Mediterranean tapas restaurant called El Five. We sat outside overlooking the Denver skyline and the Rockies before catching a red-eye home. It was the perfect way to punctuate a pretty near-perfect trip.

(^Dinner view. Until we meet again, Colorado!)

[emilys-study-abroad-in-greece]

Day Two

It is our second day in Athens. Today we all had our first class assignment, a map quiz over Greece and parts of the surrounding Mediterranean. Despite my lack of studying I got a 10/10, thanks Assasin’s Creed Odyssey and previous Greek and Mediterranean classes 😂

After our quiz and a brief instruction on water safety for when we go to the islands next week, we were giving three free hours to get some lunch and do some shopping. Before the group that I went with went to get lunch we stopped at a place famous for their traditional Greek leather sandals. It’s a family run shop originally started by a man called the Poet whose son now runs the shop. This shop has made sandals for people like Jackie O, Sarah Jessica Parker, Bob Saget, John Lennon, and Ringo Star. You can order custom sandals or pick from the styles they already have and then they’ll custom fit the sandals to your feet. They were 55 euros, but totally worth it for custom fit traditional Greek leather sandals. I’ll post a picture later. While out shopping I also got a mug (of course) and bought a couple shot classes for some people.

After our shopping trip we visited an archaeological site. This site was part of Ancient Gymnasia of Athens and the Lykeion. Aristotle, himself, taught here. After the site we went the Benaki museum. The museum used to be the home of a man who collected Greek artifacts. Eventually the house turned into a museum that has tons of Ancient Greek artifacts and other more modern artifacts. I will post pictures in another post. After we were done viewing the artifacts in the museum, a few of us decided to get dinner on the rooftop restaurant that the museum had. I had some greeattt chicken from this restuarant.

After we were done eating we made the long track back to our hotel and have pretty much settled down for the night. A group of 16 of us met at the rooftop bar to plan our trip to Santorini. Since this trip is optional we are in charge of the planning and expenses for the trip ourself. The 12 girls of our group got an air bnb at an apartment complex that is pretty nice and cheap and in one of the major cities. We are all super excited for this trip. It will be two nights in Santorini where we hope to visit the beaches and the volcano.

Tomorrow classes start. I have a mythology class from 10:30-11:20 and then a Day to Day life in Ancient Greece class from 11:30-12:20. After that I don’t have to meet with the group until 3 where we will be leaving to go see the Acropolis (where the Parthenon is) and the Acropolis museum. If it rains tomorrow, like it currently says it will, we may switch our plans and go to the National Archaeological museum instead.

Overall, today was a fund day filled with a lot of walking, but of course there will be a lot more walking in the future. Now I am ready to go to bed and have another day full of actual class time and museum and site excursions.

[granny-snek-7673]

Editing the Truth Chapter 2

Summary: Bellona’s routine is interrupted as an opportunity at work presents itself. How will she cope?

Edit: Bellona now has brown hair; sorry, not sorry. 

          The next few weeks passed uneventfully for Bellona, allowing her to slip back into her regular rhythm. It wasn’t until she walked into the office at 5:24am on the first Friday in August that her routine would become more disrupted than it had been in the last 5 years. She sat down in her god awful chair in her cubicle and set her bag by her desk as she booted up her laptop and the desktop. She sipped her coffee and her smoothie alternatively as she put one headphone in and played soft music. Her attention was pulled from her laptop to the desktop as it chimed, indicating an email. She felt her heart jump to her throat when she realized that it was from Orson Maurus directly, the CEO of the publishing house and several other large corporations. She quickly clicked on the email and read it over to herself three times to be sure she wasn’t hallucinating. Just then, Lillian appeared, peeking over the cubicle walls.

           When Lillian realized that the look on her friend’s face was one of pure terror, she quickly made her way into the cubicle and glanced at the screen. Bellona stared at the email in silent shock as Lillian read it over her shoulder aloud.

           “Ms. Humbert, It has come to my attention that in the last five years, you have commissioned some of our most successful works, the most recent being the historical fiction novel that has quickly become the number one best seller in every country we’ve released it in. That novel was turned down by nine other publishing houses almost exclusively because it wasn’t what was currently trending on the modern market. You agreed with that statement, but also presented several convincing arguments to approve it and publish it anyway and now it’s a resounding success. This has been the case with many of your commissions and I would like to meet with you and discuss your strategy. Please let me know what time you’d like to go to lunch to talk. Warm regards, Orson Maurus, CEO.” Lillian was silent for a moment, then she spun her friend around in her chair and grinned. “Holy shit, Bel,” she breathed, “This is your break.”

           “My break?” Bellona replied exasperatedly, “I’m going to have to sit and talk to the single most intimidating man in this entire building and attempt to explain an analytical concept that I attempt to use literally just to be cautious and I don’t even fully understand it myself.”

           “What do you mean you don’t understand it?” Lillian asked.

           “I mean I process all the prospects analytically like I’m supposed to, but if I personally would read it, then sometimes I’ll commission it anyway. Most of my process is personal preference and I can’t even imagine telling the man that runs the company that I commissioned the novel because I liked the character arcs that the author set up,” she said quickly, stuttering several times and adjusting her glasses, a red flush working its way up her neck to her cheeks. “I heard he made Jeanette cry last week,” she added under her breath.

           “He made Jeanette cry because he rejected her when she made a pass at him,” Lillian replied deadpan, “Because he’s hot as fuck, Bel. Trust me on that.”

           “That makes it worse!” Bellona sighed, her voice approaching a high-pitched whine.

           “Oh my god,” Lillian groaned, “You’re 27 fucking years old and you can’t have a conversation with an attractive man about your work success. Are you broken?”

           Bellona laughed ironically. “Definitely,” she replied.

           Lillian growled in frustration and then pushed her friend away from the computer and typed out a return email, saying it out loud as she did so. “Mr. Maurus, I usually take my lunch at 1pm. I will meet you up in your office and we can decide where we want to eat on the elevator ride down. Thank you, Ms. Humbert.” Then she clicked send before Bellona could argue. “Okay,” she continued, “I’m going to go steal a chair and we’re going to practice what you’re going to talk about at lunch. Sit tight, don’t freak out, I’ll be right back.” Then she scurried away as fast as her sky high heels would let her.

           Just when Lillian was out of sight, her email chimed again and she saw the reply from Mr. Maurus. “Ms. Humbert, I look forward to meeting with you very much. Very warm regards, Orson Maurus, CEO.”

           For the next several hours as the rest of the employees filed in for work, Lillian and Bellona practiced the conversation in as many different scenarios as they could imagine. Then Lillian had to get back to her own work and Bellona returned to wading through the possible commissions until 12:45pm. At this point, she put her laptop back into her bag and carried it over her shoulder as she took the elevator to the top floor. When the doors opened, she was surprised how bright and open the space was, the light from the windows unimpeded as there were no cubicles, only open desk spaces. She pushed her glasses back up on her nose and tried to walk with as much confidence as she could to the in-house CEO office. She was unsure if she succeeded when she reached the door, which was closed. Part of her was uncomfortable with the fact that there wasn’t a secretary to usher her in. She gently knocked on the door and a deep voice beckoned her to come in. She adjusted her glasses nervously and slowly opened the door and stepped into the office, shutting the door behind her.

           The man sitting at the desk wasn’t quite what she had expected. For some reason, when she imagined Orson, he was much gruffer, with eyes that glinted like steel and a set jaw that took no arguments. She wondered if she’d completely made up those images, or if she was just fooled by the pictures she’d seen of him on magazine covers as she stared at him now. He was handsome, that was for sure, and he had a presence about him that demanded quiet respect. His face had excellent symmetry, and his soft blue eyes had smile wrinkles at the edges. His jawline was fierce and covered with a well-trimmed beard the same shade of light blonde-brown as his neat hair. His shoulders were broad, enough that she was certain he had to have his suits personally tailored. He smiled up at her and then stood to his whole 6’3” height, towering over her, but not in an intimidating way.

           “You must be Ms. Humbert,” he said in a deep melodic voice, rounding his desk and extending his hand, “It’s a pleasure to meet you. You can call me Orson.”

           In an instant, Bellona recognized the voice as the man from the gym all those weeks ago and felt heat rise in her cheeks. “Call me Bellona,” she replied on autopilot, “and the pleasure is mine.”

           “Well, Bellona,” he said with a smile, “I suppose we should head out to lunch. Craving anything in particular?” he asked. Bellona shook her head softly, a quite smile working its way onto her face as she realized that he didn’t recognize her from their first meeting. “Do you like Mediterranean food?” he pressed. Bellona smiled more broadly and nodded. “I know just the place then.” He opened the door for her and they walked to the elevator together. As she walked next to him, she saw several women beautiful enough to be models staring her down. Her eyes drifted to the ground as she waited for the elevator to save her from their stares.

           When the doors closed after them as they entered the elevator, Bellona felt her insecurities suddenly triple. She looked down at what she was wearing: an overlarge emerald green chunky cable knit turtle necked sweater, light gray dress slacks, and her black pointed-toe two inch heels. The women she’d just seen on the top floor were dressed like models, their clothes tailored to their thin bodies, their faces and hair perfect. She’d never felt more inadequate in her life. She glanced up at Orson and noticed how stiff he was next to her, his demeanor so different from even just a few moments ago in his office. His hands were gripping the railing on the back wall, his knuckles white, his jaw locked, teeth grinding. She became aware that her presence was affecting him in a negative way and took several steps away from him under the guise of shifting her bag from one shoulder to the other. She glanced at him again and thought she saw hurt flash in his eyes, but assured herself that she was wrong; it was probably relief.

           When the doors opened again, both of them breathed in relief and walked through the lobby. As they walked down the steps outside the office, Bellona noticed that a black car was pulled up to the sidewalk. Orson went straight for it, opening the door for Bellona and letting her in, and then walking around to the other side to get in from the street. He passed a note to the driver and they started driving to the restaurant. Bellona realized that Orson was much more relaxed now. She was now unsure what his behavior in the elevator meant. She was just as close to him now as she had been and instead of looking stiff and distressed, he appeared quite at ease. The drive was silent, neither comfortable nor uncomfortable, just quiet.

           They pulled up to a small Mediterranean restaurant, Orson making sure he opened her car door, helped her out of the car, and held open the door to the restaurant for her. Bellona was taken aback by the amount of chivalry, nearly astounded when he helped her take her seat at their table. They ordered their food and made easy conversation as they waited for their meal.

           “So did you always know you wanted to be a writer?” Orson asked. “Or at least work with writing?”

           Bellona shrugged. “I knew I wanted to do something that let me travel and have fun, so journalism seemed to be the way to go,” she replied.

           “So you’ve done some traveling then,” Orson continued, “Where all have you been?”

           Bellona laughed. “Nowhere, really. Life got in the way. I’ve only ever been to a couple of states and never out of the country. I had every intention of going, got my passport and everything, but…” she trailed off and shrugged, rubbing the ring finger of her left hand with her thumb nervously and staring down at the patterned table cloth.

           When she glanced back up at him, she found that he was already staring at her, but his eyes held no pity; only understanding dwelled there. His blue eyes brooded, the smile lines of his face deepening as he smiled softly at her. She realized now that he was older than he looked. Sure, he was handsome and fit, but his eyes held a wisdom that couldn’t be faked; his voice spoke quiet insight. And the way he looked at her assured her that he was a man of experience. She looked back down at the table cloth.

           “Well where’s one place you would still like to go?” he asked softly, his deep voice becoming husky.

           Bellona thought for a moment. “Italy,” she replied. “The food, the culture, the people; it just seems like a good place to visit.”

           He nodded. “It’s wonderful there,” he said, “The wine is truly unmatched in my opinion.”

           Bellona smiled. “But getting drunk in an Irish pub and kissing a Scotsman in a kilt are also on my bucket list, so...” She shrugged and then blushed, never looking up at him, not having expected herself to be so comfortable talking to him. Relief flooded over her when he laughed wholeheartedly, seemingly unphased by her comments.

           “I wouldn’t have expected those things to be on your bucket list,” he laughed, eyeing her and winking, “but I have heard it’s always the quiet ones.”

           She blushed and laughed, wringing her hands under the table. Bellona was grateful that their food arrived at this moment and she dug in, being sure to mind her manners, but not welcoming much more small talk.

           “So you wanted to talk to me about strategy?” she asked, desperate for the conversation to steer toward work; Lillian had prepped her extensively for those types of conversations.

           “Well,” he replied, “to be honest I think I wanted to meet you more than I wanted to talk strategy. I was mostly just surprised that so many of the works you commissioned ended up being so successful. You’re doing something right, and I want you to know that.”

           Bellona stared at him, dumbfounded. “You don’t want to know how I’m doing it?” she asked, suspicious.

           “Truthfully, no,” he responded, “Because whatever you’re doing, I think it’s original to you. I don’t believe you could put it into words and I don’t think it could be recreated by another person, much less taught to another person by me. And especially now that I’ve met you, I realize that your caution and prudence and excellence are more a part of your personality than a strategy for commissioning. I wanted to take you out to lunch to promote you.”

           Bellona couldn’t bring herself to form coherent thoughts, much less words. She stared at Orson in shock for several minutes before clearing her throat. “Excuse me?” she nearly whispered.

           “I’d like you to take over the vacant Chief Editing Commissioner position. You’d get a desk on the top floor, a parking spot in the covered parking garage, and a salary increase. And you could choose your own team for each project. I wouldn’t force any extra responsibilities, I just think that you could lead by example. Productivity on the top floor is at an all-time low, hence the newly open Chief position. Your record speaks for itself and I think you’re the perfect woman for the job,” he rattled on.

           “You want to promote me?” she asked, still lagging behind.

           “Is it so hard to believe that I think you’re doing a good job and should be treated and paid appropriately for it?” he asked, his brows knitting together.

           “I just…” her voice faded, but he prompted her to continue, “I just didn’t think my work warranted anything special…”

           Now it was Orson’s turn to stare at her incredulously. “You can’t be serious…” he said, his voice low. He pulled a piece of paper from the inside of his suit jacket and unfolded it. “Thirty-seven best sellers, nineteen blockbusters, sixteen major awards,” he read, “and that’s just from this year; and the year isn’t even over yet. I ran the numbers and your productivity is rated as one-hundred-thirty times more than the average employee here, your profit margin far above anyone else’s. Ms. Humbert, I had planned to apologize for not noticing your exemplary work earlier, but apparently it also slipped your notice.”

           They sat in silence for several moments, Bellona pushing her food around her plate with her fork. “I don’t know what to say…” she mutters.

           “Say you’ll take the job,” Orson quipped, his voice comforting, yet commanding respect.