#i was thinking of filling in the gaps in the peaches with light pink thread | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lepus-arcticus · 5 years

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KICKING HORSE B&B 3:03 AM

The whine of hinges, the door sweeping open, and then he was no longer alone.

She was naked, flushed and plump and pink from the bath, rogue locks of hair snaking wetly down from her forehead. Her grapefruit-pink tongue was clamped between her teeth in a minxy smile, and in the doorframe, she looked ripe as an August peach, bleeding sweetness from every pore.

Before he could speak, she moved to him and settled her steamy, naked body into his lap. Those thick country thighs squirmed against his rising erection, and her pert, pretty nipples poked at his chest. This close, she smelled of lavender, of sage, of old blood.

He wanted to kiss her, he realized—no, he had to kiss her, had to unlock that mouth, had to swallow the secrets she was keeping there—but when he smoothed his hands down into the warm dell of her back, she pulled away, giggling, and stood up. She threaded her fingers playfully through his, and tugged at him, and he followed her through the haze to the dark, crowded hall.

The Bishop women in full spectral pallor stood shoulder to shoulder, blocking their way, but Anna swept onward, and as she brushed past them, they swayed like wind-blown wheat, parting to let them through. Mulder looked back in bewilderment as he passed them, and their eyes sank, expressionless, into his.

The tower. That’s where they were going, he realized. The tower.

Anna paused at the base of the stairs, brought their joined hands to her belly, and flattened his palm to her navel. Life sang and squirmed within her. He wanted to kiss her again then, wanted to enter her, to conquer her, to live inside of her, so keenly and desperately that it felt like anger. He pressed himself into her, clutching at the lush flesh of her hips, but she only laughed in a tinkling cascade of echoes, twisted away from him gracefully, and began to climb.

He followed, hungry for her.

She reached the door, and looked back at him. He nodded darkly, encouraging her. Get her inside, he thought, get her against the wall, or on the ground…

Anna laughed again, and opened the door to Scully’s apartment.

The candles were lit, casting flickering shadows over her, and as the light danced, she and Scully were one woman, one body, one soul.

Anna laughed, and laughed, and then she screamed, and so did Scully. As he watched, helpless as a pillar of salt, skin flew from her in wet streaks, muscle and fat tore away from the bone in meaty chunks. She screamed at him in Scully’s voice, calling his name, and he couldn’t move, couldn’t save her, couldn’t, couldn’t, he was helpless, he was drowning in a tide of her blood⁠—

Mulder woke with a yelp of horror, grasping at the sheets, drenched in a cold sweat. “Scully—,” he gasped, gulping air, his heart kicking at his ribs. Oh, fuck, just a dream. Just a nightmare.

He worked to slow his breathing, reminding himself to count to seven on the inhale. But by the time he reached three, he realized that he was alone. He flung his hand over to Scully’s side of the bed.

The sheets were cool.

A fuzz began in the back of his head, and before he knew what he was doing, his firearm was off of the side table and in his hands and he was up, back against the wall next to the closed door, straining to hear something, anything at all. The cool air stroked his bare chest, and a sharp spatter of goosebumps prickled over his arms and neck.

Something told him not to call out for her, but he held her name in his mouth just the same. Scully.

He reached down and turned the handle, slowly, trying to make as little noise as possible and cringing when the hinges creaked. Slipping through the door, he stalked down the hall, resolutely ignoring the framed faces of the Bishop women. He couldn’t handle their eyes right now, couldn’t handle their judgement, their waiting.

He held his breath as he reached the open door of the other bedroom, forcing his eyes to remain on the floor, almost expecting to see a dark pool of her precious, precious lifeblood spreading towards his feet.

She wasn’t there. The room was empty, the window was closed, there were no signs of struggle. Mulder pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth, biting hard. Where was she? What had they done to her?

The tower, he thought, but then remembered Rhiannon’s words of warning. She wouldn’t be there. He had a suspicion that despite his dream, it might be the only safe place in Horizon.

Back out into the hall, and down the stairs, one by one, quietly, quietly. The house was a silent watcher, still and cold, and he recalled discovering Rhiannon in her chair, corpse-like in sleep. His pulse roared in his ears as he moved forward into the kitchen, as steadily as he could, keeping his back to the wall and his gun at the ready.

He glanced at the front door, thinking of Anna’s skin violently unraveling in Scully’s apartment, and was gratified to find that it remained firmly shut, locked from the inside, too, by the overextended position of the deadbolt.

He moved into the kitchen, scanning the darkened windows, the floor, searching for signs of her. Nothing was out of place, but the quality of the air was different, somehow. His awareness sharpened, his breath became lighter. The pads of his feet stuck to the chilled tile, and they made little sucking sounds as he pulled them up, moving slowly, gun-first.

He wasn’t alone. There was something here. Someone. He could sense it. The buzzing in his head continued to build. And then⁠—

“Mulder?”

He swung around, nerves alight, his gun pointed directly at the source of the sound.

Scully, whole and tiny in his t-shirt, stood before him, the night-black greenery of the conservatory wrapping her in shadows.

“Jesus Christ, Scully,” Mulder hissed. He lowered his gun, remembering at the last moment to click the safety back into place, and abandoned it on the kitchen island. He rubbed at his cheeks, struggling to regain his composure.

Scully raised a sympathetic eyebrow.

“You weren’t in bed,” he said, by way of explanation.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she replied weakly, stepping towards him, and that’s when he noticed the shine in her eyes, her swollen lips, the flush in her cheeks. She’d been crying.

His gut dropped, and he immediately closed the gap between them, gathering her up under his chin. The way her small, slim body folded into his reminded him of hospitals, of almost-kisses. It reminded him that despite her strength, her capability, despite her genius and her pride, she could be stolen away from him at any moment.

“Hey,” he whispered, aching. “Hey, it’s okay. I’ve got you. I’m sorry for earlier. I’m so sorry.” She locked her arms around his waist, let him rock her slowly.

“Mulder,” she said into his shirt with a sniff. He pulled back to look down at her. “You have to start wearing a knee brace.”

He loosened his hold, almost smiling. “What?”

Her hands remained on him, one on his arm, one on his chest. “And you need to get your prostate checked yearly when you reach 45, okay? It’s a bit earlier than recommended, but I want you to go. For me.”

“What are you talking about?” Dread began to settle around him like ash, filling the air, making his skin feel cottony.

“And get a bed. Please. You can have mine, okay?”

“Scully,” he begged, realizing what she was trying to say, to do. “Scully, stop.” He retrieved her hand from where it lay on his chest, brought it to his mouth, and pressed his lips to the heel of her palm. Her hand was chilled and limp, and he held it to his face, trying to warm her.

“You were right, earlier. Upstairs. I’m not…” she let the statement trail off. “And... I want you to take care of yourself. I want you to be happy.”

“Don’t talk like that,” he said, his voice catching. He pulled her back into his arms and crushed a long, firm kiss into her hairline.

She pressed on, clinging to his shirt. “Mulder, please, listen to me. Listen. You have so much… so much life inside of you. I don’t want you to squander it on some fruitless quest for vengeance when I’m gone.”

“Stop,” he insisted. “You’re going to be fine.” He pulled back, framed her face in his hands and forced her to look at him, stroking her cheek with his thumb. God, she was beautiful—her lips plush and quivering, her eyes wide and wet. Beautiful and utterly singular, animated from within by the most substantial soul he’d ever encountered. Losing her was not an option. Not now, not ever.

He kissed the corner of her tearful eye, the bridge of her perfect, queenly nose. She exhaled in a shivering sigh, and her sweet, wet breath washed over his skin.

“No. I’m not,” she said. “I’m going to die.”

He couldn’t hear it. He wouldn’t. So desperately, lavishly, he took her mouth with his and shut her up.

It wasn’t roses or wildfire or anything else he’d ever let himself imagine in countless lonely, indulgent moments. It was shadows in the basement, smudged newsprint, gas station coffee. It was Washington rain and her 2 a.m. laughter over the phone line. It was every darkness they’d slipped into and out of, every scrap of wonder they’d ever shared. It was Scully, his Scully, ever-new but as familiar as his own reflection. It was coming home, and finding that you’d been there all along.

She kissed him back. God, she kissed him back for one perfect minute, making heavenly little noises in the back of her throat, her kittenish nails scrabbling at his chest. But then she pulled away, tearing herself from him with a gasp.

He dove after her, backing her up against a plant-strewn workbench, unwilling to let her escape. He took her mouth again, faster than any protest she might muster, and found it soft and sweet and welcoming. It all raged inside of him, years and years of it⁠—fuck, it burned⁠—and kissing her was like drinking cool water, quenching a desert-earned thirst. He was swallowed into the crisp fragrance of greenery, the wet musk of nourished, fertile dirt, the warm smell of woman. It was as though he’d rediscovered Eden.

“Please,” she sobbed against his mouth, her lips mashed against his in grief. “Please, Mulder, you have to promise me.”

He thrust his tongue against hers a response, and she clamped it possessively between her teeth, sending hot darts of pleasure into his sacrum. His hands found the proud, bony flare of her ribs, and in one clumsy motion, he lifted her onto the bench in a clatter of terra cotta. A pot tumbled and cracked noisily against the tile, spilling cool earth onto his bare feet. But Scully wrapped her legs around his hips, trapped him between her thighs, and kissed him back, kissed him back, kissed him back.

Her hands in his hair, her hands at his hips, and then her hands were at his chest, pushing him away. “Stop,” she pleaded, in a voice rough with emotion, but he couldn’t. Couldn’t let her slip away. Couldn’t let her go on for one more second not understanding in the very marrow of her bones that he needed her.

He dragged her closer and tried to kiss her again, but she turned her face and pulled him into her shoulder instead. He threaded his fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck, tugging desperately, his lips at her pulse point.

“Let me love you,” he demanded, enslaved by raw emotion.

She gripped his shirt, pulled him even closer, squeezed him with her moonlit thighs. “I can’t, God, I can’t,” she chanted.

He gripped her silky hair, scraping his teeth experimentally against her skin. “Why them, then? Why Jerse, why Daly?”

“They aren’t you,” she protested fiercely.

He melted, nosing her cheek to turn her face and kiss her again. She let him, opening her mouth to him, stealing his air. One of his hands slipped under her shirt and and pressed against her ouroboros, bringing her so tight against him that he rubbed up against the scorching crease of her, obliterating any doubt in his mind that she wanted him back, and badly, and now.

She moaned sweetly as he ground himself into her heat, but in the next breath, twisted away from him.

“Dana⁠—,” he pleaded, but she slid off of the table, out of his arms.

“Stop. God, please, Mulder, you need to stop. This needs to stop,” she said, pacing away, leaving him breathless and rumpled and hard and heartbroken.

She turned back to face him, a pale spectre in the shadowy jungle of the greenhouse. “With you… I have to think about tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that, until the day that I... I can’t do that to you. To myself. I can’t. I’m not brave enough.”

The watery glint in her night-dark eyes sobered him. What was he supposed to tell her? That it was too late? That his work, his life, his future would be meaningless without her?

“Scully…,” he began, but she slumped forward again, back into his arms.

“I can’t,” she said.

Mulder pulled back into himself, trying to summon the courage not to push her. “Okay,” he said, rocking her gently, softening against her belly. “Okay.”

He held her for a long time, the tile chilling his feet, her head tucked under his chin. At some undetermined point, he took her small hand in his and led her back upstairs.

They slept twined together, his hand resting over the steady, rhythmic countdown of her heart.

#omens #txf fic

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minicoopdetat · 4 years

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Sweet Talking

Discord thread featuring: Cooper and Ryleigh (@ryleighmeadows)

Where: Ryleigh’s (Aiden’s) Apartment

When: A Week Ago

Description: Cooper talks Ryleigh into letting him come over and keep her company with his big strong arms

Trigger Warnings: Smut.

RYLEIGH

Thank goodness Aiden has pretty much taken to staying at Cordelia's. Pretty much meant Ryleigh had free reign over his apartment, including inviting her friends over whenever she wanted without having that awkward, 'Oh, I live with my brother' conversation. Things get weird after that and Ryleigh just wants... Cooper helps her forget about everything else. He's spontaneous and unpredictable, but in that way you can't help but find endearing if not a little insufferable at times. She enjoys that about him. He gets her out of her own head. Ryleigh hates being caught up in her head. By the time she arrives at the apartment, Coop is already standing outside the door, and she immediately passing him two of the shopping bags she has in hand. "Here, hold these," she says in greeting, but does stop to lift up and kiss his cheek, before she's sliding her key into the door and pushing inside. "Can you just set those over there, please?" She nods toward the table while taking the back she currently has over to the kitchen counter.

COOPER

"Do I look like fucking Jeeves?" he asks, a smirk lining his features as he takes the bag and looks at his outfit. "Is it the clothes, cause I clean up well and I could definitely pull off more of an Alfred" Batman had no fucking clue compared to Alfred. That man deserved a fucking medal for putting up with all that angsty bullshit. Bruce Wayne was loaded, skilled af, and had women throwing themselves at him daily. Could that buy happiness? Who cared, but sure as hell could help if he wasn't being so much of a sad sack. Coop followed after, eyes wandering as he plopped the bags on the table. "What's with the creepy Hannibal Lector vibe?" he asked, nodding toward the wall of books, "Just know, my skin is fucking moist af. I do skin care regs daily so I don't need any cheap ass lotion,"

RYLEIGH

"Jeeves?" Ryleigh chuckles at him. "No, but you were there and I needed help, and since you like me, you're going to help me," she bats her eyelashes at him before they enter her apartment. "It's my brother's apartment. He's staying with his girlfriend at the moment, though, so I've got his place all to myself. He... likes books," she tells him as she begins pulling items from the reusable grocery bags she'd brought him. Ryleigh doesn't know how much Aiden wants to keep hidden, so she doesn't offer up that her brother's an author, choosing to save that for another time. "A little help?" She motions towards the bags, motioning for him to join her.

COOPER

She had him there. Besides, never hurt to help out. Good karma and all that. His eyebrow raises at the mention of her brother and nods, "Ah yeah, I get that. I was thinkin it's a bit masculine for you. I imagined lots of pinks and purple. But i get that. Phaedra and I have a similar deal. She's off perusing the coasts of Greece and I get to do as I please. Only my first move was to take all her shit to storage," he chuckled moving over to help. He pulled a few things out of the bag, turning them over in his hands, "I see someone's on a mexican kick, is mi verga still on?"

RYLEIGH

"Pinks and purples? Why does everyone automatically go to those colors when they think of me?" He's not the first one to do it, but blue is actually her favorite color and if she had a choice to decorate anything? She'd have a French theme, or an ocean view theme. Pink ane purple is a little overrated. She's not that... bubbly... is she? "That must be so amazin' for her, though. I can't wait to see the world," she sighs, beginning to put a few of the items away in their designated spots. "I'm making tacos, yes. That's what's for dinner and for dessert," she answers, finding the single white peach she'd found, and tosses it in his direction. "Found your peach," she grins teasingly, taking the cheese from him to put it in the fridge.

COOPER

"So I've been set up," he replied, arms crossing over his chest, still smirking "You always lie on the first date, cause you definitely told me Lavender that first night," Maybe she was expecting not to see him again. Fat chance. He would've found a totally none stalkery way to see a vixen like her again. Coop shrugged, "For her? Fuck yeah. Though all she does is sit around and drink in them fancy hotels. I get it, you're 90 Phae, but get your ass in that sun and live a little," He chuckled, passing her some ingredients, not missing she totally skipped over his question. "Don't think you're slick. I see you changing the subject, but I like peaches so I'll eat this one...as long as I get to try yours later,"

RYLEIGH

"Did I?" She smirks knowingly, unable to help herself. He's just so easy. Cooper's one of those easy going guys who literally doesn't allow anything to bother him and she appreciates that about him so much to the point where she wishes she could be that good at letting things roll off her back. "Hey, let her live her life. Don't judge," she remarks, keeping everything organized so she can put them away in the proper places. "Changing the subject on what? I don't know what you're trying to tell me, Coop. Maybe you should tell me in plain English?" Ryleigh's only teasing, but she also knows two words in spanish and neither one of them had been what he said.

COOPER

Don't judge. She didn't know Phae. She ate pixies like Ryleigh for lunch. Read'em for fuckin filth. He loved her, but he could definitely judge her. "OK-- here's english for you. My dick. Are you having my dick, as like an appetizer or..." he can't help but laugh as he hands her the last of the groceries and leans against the table, "Look at me and say i'm not a snack,"

RYLEIGH

Ryleigh laughs, because how can she not? He's fucking ridiculous ninety-eight percent of the time. "Oh, you're definitely a snack, Coop," she remarks, plucking the peach from his hands after she's finished putting away the last of the groceries. "Do you really want me to suck your dick that bad? You can't even wait to be a little surprised by when I do it?" Ryleigh asks, leaning against the counter opposite him and biting into the peach she'd bought specifically for him, her free hand lifting when she feels a trickle of juice drip down her chin.

COOPER

"the fuck," he laughs, swiping for the stolen fruit, but she's faster. That or he's not trying too hard. "I do, I really really do-ooo," his voice is sing songy as he steps forward, his reflexes quick enough to catch her hand this time. "Don't worry, I gotcha," It's a light push to her wrist as he closes the gap and his head dips, his tongue wiping the trail of sweetness clean before pressing a light kiss. "I'd apologize for being overeager, but sorry, I'm not sorry. I really like you," he says, bringing his hand to cup her cheek as he pulls back, thumb caressing gently"And I'd really like your lips around my cock, but if its a no go, I get it. Tell me no now and I'll drop it for the rest of the night. Pinkie promise,"

RYLEIGH

Her breath hitches in her throat when his hand catches her own. Coop is flirty. He's loud. He's so unlike anyone she's ever known before, yet she's drawn to him. Their friendship, however unexpected, is one she craves because he makes her think less and act more. Before she can react, his tongue is swiping up the sticky trail on her chin, and he's kissing her. It's brief and light, but need strikes hard and fast behind her naval. I really like you. Is she really that weak? Yeah, she might be a little. Ryleigh takes another bite of the peach before she's setting it down on the counter before her, chewing her bite and swallowing the bitter sweet fruit. She pushes him back so he's leaning against the counter again before lifting up onto her tip toes to kiss him. A whisper of a touch of her lips against his, but a kiss all the same. "I really like you, too, Coop," she whispers softly as her small hands drop to his pants. "How much have you thought about it? My lips around your cock, I mean," she asks innocently, almost too sweetly, as she peers up at him with those sparkling green eyes of hers, one of her hands slipping beneath his pants to press her small palm flush against cock.

COOPER

His back hits the counter, not hard, but enough to make his cock twitch as her lips brush his. It's barely anything and it leaves him wanting, though her words? It's got him half chubbed, zero to sixty. That was a lie. Just texting her had gotten him worked up, but that was beside the point as her hand dropped, ghosting over the elastic and then beneath. He took a breath, his tongue pressing to his canines as he fights the urge to moan just yet, "Like-- a lot. A fucking ton," He can't hold it in, a soft groan escaping him as her palm connects with his cock. He never wore underwear, he told her as much their first meet, and feeling her bare skin against him had his head tilting forward, snagging another kiss, this one deeper than the last. "From the moment I met you, I knew they'd look so perfect..." he murmured into the kiss, before chuckling softly, "definitely top ten spank bank material,"

RYLEIGH

From her vantage point, she's granted an exceptional view of his jaw, of the day old stubble she can feel when her free hand rises to brush the back of her hand against him there. His groan makes a wave of heat flush over her body, cheeks growing pink, her hand palming his cock pressing harder, with more purpose, enough to make him feel good but not to hurt him. "From the moment we met, huh?" Ryleigh teases, smiling into the kiss he gives her, her hand falling from his jaw to graze down the front of his chest. He's so handsome, ridiculously so, and the fact that he wants her mouth on his cock? Ryleigh's filled with a sense of euphoria as she uses her free hand to work his button free, to push down the fabric of his pants until they're pooled round his ankles. His length springs free and Ryleigh nips at his lower lip once before she sinks to her knees in front of him. "Top ten but not number one?" She asks softly as her small hand curls around his cock, dragging up the length of him in one slow stroke before she's pressing the softest of kisses to the already leaking tip. Her eyes never leave his face.

COOPER

Despite those sweet innocent features, Cooper had known there was much more beneath her angelic exterior. No one with lips that perfectly plump could be. She was fuckin built for this, the perfect trap to anyone unsuspecting and Coop? He would dive in cock first anytime. His breathing hitches in his throat as he wets his lips, forcing his eyes to stay open as she works her magic, sending a surge of pleasure through his core with every stroke. "Down to the second. I thought 'Fuck those are the most perfect BJ lips I've ever seen," He feels the button pop and a shaky breath escapes, feeling the cool apartment air as his cock, thick and already pulsing, is exposed. He shifts, chuckling as he kicks his ankles free of the material and she slinks, in fucking slo mo, to her knees. The sight alone is almost enough to make him come undone but he tightens his core and fuckin prays he lasts longer than 60 seconds. "For now. Gotta allow for some growth you know, but keep this up, baby girl, and you be top 3 in no time," he chuckles again, his body trembling at the soft touch of her lips. One of his hands dip into her hair, dragging his blunt nails through the blonde tresses. "Damn that feels nice," The words came out with a sigh, his whiskey hues still connected with her bright blue.

RYLEIGH

Most perfect BJ lips? Her own shaky exhale washes over his skin where she's got her mouth poised above his cock. "And what if I want to be number one, hm?" Ryleigh queries with a soft, teasing lilt in her voice - giving him a small pout as her hand continues to work along his shaft in effort to make him trembled or her. That previous, shaky breath he'd let out, she wants to hear it again. She shifts on her knees, her thighs pressing together as he uses that little pet name for her and when his fingers sink into her hair, those blunt tips grazing her scalp, Ryleigh doesn't bother quieting her own whimper of pleasure. She doesn't offer him another response, but instead, with her hand working down his length, wraps her lips around his bulbous head, suckling softly on just the tip. Like it's her favorite flavor popsicle and she can't get enough of the taste.

COOPER

He feels her breath, warm and tantalizing, against his flesh and resists the urge to buck his hips. The stroke of her hand feels fucking incredible but the thought of watching his head disappear past those tickle me pink lips, the thought of feeling her tongue swirl and-- god fucking damn. he can hardly wait. "You work for it," he replies, breath already beginning to rasp as he hears her whimper. "Music to my ears. If only I'd been psychic enough to set up my fuckin phone. I'd listen to that all day," But he commits it to memory as he looks down at her sugary sweet features, her cheeks painted pink as her lips part as take him in, no hesitation, and feels the suction draw another soft groan from his throat. Heat flushes his skin, his fingers still working through her hair as his heartbeat quickens. It feels good. So damn good. And the view is everything he imagined and more. he trembles, his back digging into the counter as his head tilts to the side, getting a better angle. "That's it, baby, take it like it's your favorite,"

RYLEIGH

Work for it. S'not the first time she's heard those words. Ryleigh doubts they'll be the last, but something about Cooper, about being friends with him, makes her want to prove him wrong. Or right? She wants to be so good at this, he'll be dizzy with need every time he thinks about her mouth wrapped round his cock. Ryleigh hums around him, allowing him to feel the vibration of it. She should hate those words on his tongue, hate the way he seems so cocky about this, but a part of her finds a thrill in it if the way her panties are already drenched, clinging to her lower lips. She suckles on him for another moment longer, working her hand down his shaft, her free hand lifting to tease at the heavy sacs at the base of his cock before she pushes forward. Pink lips stretching wide around his shaft as she drops low, lower, breathing in deep until he hits the back of her throat and she can't take anymore of him. With another low hum, she bobs her head, working her mouth along his cock, using her hand to work what she can't fit into her mouth just yet.

COOPER

She hums, sending little waves of pleasure up his length, that have his fingers tightening in her hair. This position. As incredible as it felt to look down and see his dick practically devoured, his hands felt useless. And he was nothing if not a team player, but-- she seemed to like havin her hair teased, so his free hand pushed past her locks, the other loosening enough to massage her scalp. He feels the pads of her fingers grazing his balls and he swallows hard, the heat continuing to coil and build behind his abdomen as she begins to take more and more of him in. It's hard to say he's ever seen a better disappearing act as he groans deeply, the tip of his cock bumping the back of her throat. "Jesus fuckin Christ," he says breathlessly, his nails raking harder this time, unable to control the pressure as the pleasure builds and her head starts to bob. "God damn, Ryleigh, fuck that feels so so good, baby girl," he groans, his breathing growing more labored by the second.

RYLEIGH

Both of his hands are in her hair now, one massaging her scalp, the other curling in her golden locks and it's one of her biggest weaknesses the action draws another whimper from her. This one caught in her throat since her mouth is currently occupied, working along his length. Spit is already dribbling down his length from how much she's enjoying herself, and she uses it to work her hand faster, in time with her mouth. His nails raking harder make her nipples harden, a sharp ache building behind her sensitive little clit, not that she expects him to reciprocate. Sure, he mentioned wanting her, but that's not the same as actually doing anything, which Ryleigh expects because this isn't about her. He just had to go and use that pet name again, though, causing her to moan softly and shift herself up in such a way that when she bobs her head down, the head of his cock inches past her throat. Ryleigh gags, but just a little, her cheeks flushing read. She doesn't stop as she swallows, forcing him to feel that tightness contract around him. She hasn't stopped massaging him, either, palming the heavy sacs and she hates how eager she is for a taste of him, for his cum to fill her belly.

COOPER

She doesn't have to wait long. All of her little whimpers, hitches, moans. The way her hand pumps, moving in perfect sync with those pillowy pink lips along the slickness of his thick cock. The way she damn near chokes herself and does skip a beat and her throat spasms around him. It's too much and god mother fucking damn does it feel eu-fucking-phoric. His eyes shut, his hips arching as one hand clenches her hair and the other drags against her scalp, a deep guttural moan pouring from his lips as he unravels, body tightening, cumming so hard his knees nearly give out. His mind hazes, and he'd swear he passed out for a millisecond as the heat in his dick rushed through the rest of his body, lining his cheeks as his body shuddered and his grip in her hair slacks. He doesn't stop playing with her hair as pleasure washes over him, slowing him down as he fights to find words, "That-- that's definitely number 2 slot-- spank, holy fuckballs,"

RYLEIGH

Either it's been a while for him or she hasn't lost her touch at all, but Ryleigh is triumphant when she feels his hand tighten in her hair, when she feels his balls shudder and then he's there. A pulse of sticky warmth down her throat, coming in her mouth without warning her - not that she cares because that's what she wanted, but if she'd been anyone else, they probably would've had a few choice words for him. Ryleigh, however, whimpers and swallows every drop he gives her, continuing to work her mouth along him until she's sure she's manage to milk every drop of that creamy substance from his cock for now. He tastes as wild and heady as his entire personality, which doesn't surprise her. A minute later, she finally sits back on her haunches, a knowing grin on her lips as she licks her lips over her swollen pink lips, licking any remnants of him from her mouth. "I guess I'll take number two." She shrugs lightly, voice slightly huskier than normal, before she's rising to her feet and spinning to make a grab for the peach on the counter. There's an ache between her own thighs she'll take care of later, but she doesn't expect him to return the favor.

COOPER

Cooper takes a few breathes, trying to get a grip on them as Ryleigh rides the tsunami of a orgasm she'd just given him. It's impressive really, as he forces his eyes open to see how she not only takes a load like a champ but swallows every. last. drop. talk about fucking wifey material. but she's still going, the friction keeping his dick from softening though it's sensitive, to the point he actually sighs in relief as she sits back and those big blue eyes connect with his half lidded ones. He cocks a single brow, panting still as she stands and reaches for the peach as if she didn't just rock his fucking world. Cooper's reflexes kick in once more though, catching her hand to spin and pull her toward him, "Aye, and where do you think you're going?" he asked, a smirk lining his features as he dipped to kiss her, "I'd like my appetizer, please and thank you"

RYLEIGH

When he catches her hand and spins her back to him, Ryleigh goes willingly, if a little surprised by his actions. "Nowhere? Just going to eat my peach," she answers, but then he's smirking and dipping his head to kiss her. Heat flickers down her spine and she wonders if he can taste himself on her tongue. "Appetizer? You don't have to if you don't want to, Coop," she reiterates, face flushing at the prospect of him doing that to her. There'd been that time a few weeks ago someone had done it, but it's all such a blur now, it still makes her blush that someone wants to willingly make her feel good. "I promise it's not a make or break thing," she adds, voice a little quieter. She also doesn't want to have to explain her scars, but knowing Coop, he'd say something adorably dickish and move past them. So... what's really the hang up on her part? Ryleigh doesn't want to be a disappointment to him.

COOPER

"Really? That's what you wanna do right now? Eat a shitty peach?" he chuckled leaning toward the counter before swatting the peach into the floor like a fucking cat video. "Oops. Guess that's off the counter," He has to bite the inside of his lip to keep from laughing again. She's uncomfy, that's obvious, but she'd literally just given him one of the best bjs in his life stint in-- no fucking life and now she was feeling shy? It didn't add up. "Ryleigh, Ryles, Ry Ry....why the fuck wouldn't I? Actually its kinda selfish of you to wanna to have all the fun. I have needs you know and right now? I need you to sit on my face and let me know exactly how wet making me cum made that sweet sweet pussy of yours," As he's talking, his free hand snakes around her waist, slowly guiding her toward the couch. He's moving slow, slow enough that if she really doesn't want the reprieve, she can stop him, but he sure as hell hope she doesn't.

RYLEIGH

Her mouth falls open when he smacks the peach out of her hand. "Cooper! What is wrong with you? That was a perfectly good peach!" She manages to argue with him just as he's managed to keep her flush against his body. Her pink lips, now swollen, form into a small pout as he slowly backs her up toward the couch. Sit on his face? No, she's not.. definitely not doing that. She blushes so hard, she can feel the heat in her cheeks, but she doesn't stop him from continuing to guide her back toward the couch. "You can... you can still find out... but I'm not sitting on your face, Coop. But if you really want to... find out... then I guess you can, but remember what I said. No questions, okay?" Ryleigh peers up at him from beneath her long lashes, very reminiscent of Puss in Boots in that scene in Shrek when he's pleading for someone to do something for him. "I want it, I do, I just---- my pleasure usually isn't what people think about." She shrugs, telling him the truth of her apprehension because it's Cooper and they're friends, aren't they?

COOPER

He doesn't glance over his shoulder as he moves and nearly trips over his shoes, but he recovers like the bomb ass martial artist he is. He doesn't blush but he could probably see the red in hers from orbit. "Oh come ooon. I promise its comfortable. The god's blessed me with the perfect jaw for it, it jut screams 'sit here'," They reach the couch and he lingers for a moment, watching her pull out all the stops. Over what? Did she have like a third nipple down there or something? Because honestly that sounded kinda hot in a weird Picasso kinda way, "Fine, no questions," he replies plopping onto the couch. He wastes no time having his hands massage over denim covering her hips and around to pop their button. He's listening or trying to as he starts to ease them down. "Then you've been with the wrong peeps, baby girl, cause pleasure is definitely a two way street. I mean-- think about it," he began, shoving the denim to her ankles before sliding his hands up her thighs, his eyes up, connecting with hers as one hand slips between her creamy thighs. She's wet...so much wetter than he'd thought and he can't help but groan softly, "Think about how wet you are...you're fucking drenched for me and I barely touched you. If makin me feel good, makes you feel that good, why wouldn't it be the same for me, hm? And if it ain't, then those people? They aint worth your fuckin time and more than likely, the air they breathe,"

RYLEIGH

Ryleigh takes a deep breath, his words dragging a low, amused little laugh from her at his comment. He does have a very nice jaw, she'll give him that and maybe, one day, she'll be comfortable enough to sit on his face because she wants to and not just because he wants that from her. Her uneasiness settles when he finally agrees to keep his questions to himself. He plops down onto the couch leaving her standing in front of him, his fingers deftly freeing the button on her jeans. Fabric gives just slightly as he slowly eases them down over her hips, down her thighs, until they're pooled around her ankles. She struggles to work her feet free, pushing the denim to the side once she's able to, her off the shoulder sweatshirt long enough to cover her ass and hide most of her panties from him, but then his hands are grazing up her thighs and it's-- her knees tremble beneath the touch. He's not wrong; she's soaked right through her panties. "I-- I guess I never thought of it that way," she answers honestly in a quiet whisper, her throat tight as she watches him watching her. Her small hands rise to settle on his shoulders and she shifts a half step closer to him. "I don't know if I'll be able to do this while standing because my knees are already shaking and you're only touching me," Ryleigh adds, a quiet whimper leaving her as he continues to touch her.

COOPER

Her pants discarded to the side gives him more access and he loves the effect his touch has on her. And the amount of juices seeping through those flimsy cotton panties, it's enough to coat the pads of his fingers and he pulls back, popping them between his lips. She tastes like a fuckin main course, the subtle salty with taste only a on point pussy would taste of, and he groans softly as his fingers leave his lips and slip right back between her thighs. "Then come here," he says, drawing her onto the couch so that she's straddling him, his fingers pressing that thin material past her folds to find her pretty-- well he assumed it was pretty, little clit. "What do you think about that makes your nipples hard and your clit throb? Tell me what you want, what you fuckin desire, Ryleigh, and I'll give it to you,"

RYLEIGH

Cooper's that kind of handsome where you're not sure if he's even real because he's almost too handsome. They'd met at some random party Ryleigh had decided to check out on a whim, spent far too much time outside climbing trees, and now they're here. His lips wrapping around his fingers to taste her arousal on them. Ryleigh files the image away for her own use, later, because it's one of the sexiest things she's ever seen someone do because of her. When he drags her onto his lap, thighs spread to straddle him, Ryleigh's little hands find purchase on his shoulders, shifting herself to get more comfortable but his hands are there, between her thighs again, his fingers finding her clit with expertise and she--- is she really supposed to answer him? What she wants, it isn't real. Being the girl someone can't wait to get their hands on, can't wait to ruin with as many orgasms as possible. She's the girl when there's no one else available, though, and she's come to terms with that a long time ago, so instead of answering him, she sinks her fingers into his hair and drags his mouth to hers for a kiss. Desperate, needy. "I want you to make me cum, Cooper, please?" Ryleigh whispers against his mouth, rolling her hips forward against his fingers. If he wanted to manhandle her a little while he does... she wouldn't hate it.

COOPER

Coop can feel her warmth the second the gap between them closes and as her weight presses into his shoulders and he gets a glimpse of her amazing breasts, he can't think of a single reason anyone would deny this bombshell the pleasure she so rightly deserved. Yes, she had those innocent doe eyes and those plump little cheeks that made ya wanna squeeze them, but like beauty, sexy was in the eyes of the beholder, and his eyes? They were telling him she was one of the most fuckable girls in Dayton. Her kiss is dizzying and he can taste how bad she needs this. Who was he to disappoint? "That's child's play, baby girl," he replies, lips breaking into a smirk against her lips as he finally pushes the fabric away and the pads of his fingers meet her slick heat, "Im going to make you squirt for me," As he speaks, his hands leave their spots, finding her hips to jerk her to the side and onto her back. Fingers curl into the elastic of her panties and though he was sure he could rip the material, he isn't an animal ( yet ), and he drags them down her thighs and past her ankles. They're discarded, but he doesn't wait before he's parting those beautiful thighs. He can see something there, disappearing as it wrapped around the back, but she said no questions. He'd honor it. For now. And his hand moved to splay her folds as his head dipped, his tongue swatting at her leaking pussy with uncontrolled delight. "You taste so much better than peaches," he teased

RYLEIGH

Cool air meets her slick flesh when he just barely nudges her panties to the side. His words spoken with such confidence, like there's never been a moment he's been with someone where he hasn't made them squirt. Ryleigh whimpers loudly, much more so than she intends to, but he's quick to jerk her onto her back, her small body easy to move compared to how much bigger and stronger he is. He's not the most overpowering person she's been with, but need still flickers through her at how easily he can have her spread open for him, dragging the soiled material of her panties away from her body. Ryleigh blushes when he parts her thighs, thankful she takes care of herself despite knowing if anyone is even going to be up close and personal with her goods or not. She's bare because it feels better that way and when his fingers spread her slick folds, parting her like he can't wait to--- "Coop," Ryleigh moans, one of her hands reaching down, pushing any thought of uncertainty out of her mind as she focuses on the velvety warmth of his tongue lapping at her center. Fingers spear through his hair, gripping tight as she raises her hips, seeking the warmth of his lips, allowing instinct to guide her.

COOPER

His name leaving her lips is all he needs. Preferably a need that's recurrently met cause he wants his name in a fucking symphony of groans, moans, and whimpers. He wanted varying volumes, speeds, the works. He wanted his name carved in her memory so that whenever those delicate digits found their way between her own thighs, it was his name she sang out. His name that shook her core and took her to the euphoric crescendo. and he'd gladly do whatever it took to get her there. Hands push through his hair as his tongue circles the sensitive bundle of nerves, and he had to grin, her hips bucking as he slowed down to take his time, to allow them both to enjoy it as he began to spell. C-O-O-P-E-R.

RYLEIGH

A knot forms in her throat, because nobody took time with her. Thats... okay, some people did. Some people took their time, but mostly because she liked to tease. Because she loved the control it gave her to have someone throbbing under her mouth - be it a cock or pretty pussy - it didn't really matter. Cooper, though, with every drag of his tongue against her center, she grows dizzy from the weight of the pleasure in her veins. His tongue circles around the sensitive bundle, drawing a breathy little moan from her throat. Her lithe fingers tighten in his hair, tryin not to roll her hips up against his tongue. Lost as she is in the euphoria he's bestowing upon her, she doesn't catch what he's trying to do with his tongue. Just knows each soft, velvety swirl causes goosebumps to kiss her skin and her body to arch up toward his face in effort to make him stop. torturing. her. "Coop, please," she pleads when fire licks down her spine, sweat beading along her forehead. Ryleigh lifts her head to peer down at him, her lower lip catching between her teeth at the sight of him there - jaw dripping with evidence of her need. "I want to come for you," she admits, her face flaming a bright shade of pink at her words. She's not unused to saying them, but she's never said anything so bold to him and it's-- she wants him to think about her after this. When he's alone in his shower, working his fist along his cock. She wants him to remember this moment and how she felt coming on his tongue.

COOPER

He can tell she's trying to restrict herself, her hips tense as hands brush over their curves. Her fingers feel fucking great, tightening as she moans for him. Whatever she's trying to hold back, he makes it his goal to expose, because fuck he wants to see her unravel completely. He wants her melt, to be a puddle in the wake of his masterful cunnilingus. Which he'd definitely make a joke about later. But for now she was pleading, her body arching, resolve loosening with every swirl of his tongue. "That's what I like to hear, baby girl. Cum for daddy," he teases, pulling the bundle between his lips to suckle as his right hand slips between them, digits grazing her thickness before circling her heat with his middle finger. She's so fuckin wet and he just can't resist pressing forward, sliding the tip inside her, as his tongue continue working it magic.

RYLEIGH

She's overwhelmed. Flickers of pleasure licking through her body, making her vision cross and her hands shake as she keeps them tight in his hair. If she let's go, she's not sure she won't float away on a cloud, because this has to be a dream. Nothing could feel this good, could be this intense. Except every swirl of his tongue proves different, her thighs trembling on either side of his head. Full lips wrap around her sensitive little clit right after he says those words. Right after he uses that moniker on himself and it's too much. It's fucking too much and she-- a rush of euphoria crashes over her body in heavy waves, a sweet, lilted cry of "daddy please" coiling off the tip of her tongue like she has any fucking right to say it, but he'd started it and she's coming so hard around his the tip of his finger. Just the tip. Not even the entire thing, and she's a mess. A familiar warmth burns behind her eyes as the intensity weighs heavy on her chest, her thighs fluttering on either side of his head as if trying to clamp down, to push him away, because she feels more vulnerable than she ever has and it's embarrassing.

COOPER

"daddy please" fuck-- he could've cum right then and there hearing those words. His cock, still hard from their explorations, throbbed, and he had to focus as her walls clenched around his finger tip. He feels the rush of warm there, her shuddered breaths as her thighs tremble, but he doesn't stop. No fuckin way is he not riding it out, enjoying every little twitch and whimper as he slows, his pressure lightening to adjust to what he assumed was now highly sensitive. "such a good girl," he practically purrs against her, feeling her muscles beginning to relax. He sits up a bit, his whiskey colored hues falling on her scarlet stained face. No doubt he's cover in her, but he makes no effort to brush it away not even as he pulls his finger out of her deliciously wet core and pops it in his mouth. "I think I found my new favorite meal," he teases, pressing soft kisses along her thighs. He can see better now...thin sometimes jagged looking scars the wrap around the backs of them. His instinct isn't to ask. No, she already said she didn't want to talk about anything he saw. Instead he brushes his lips along them, peppering kisses down the length of each one as he lifts one of her legs to rest atop his shoulder. "God, you're beautiful," he murmurs against her.

RYLEIGH

there's such a swell of emotion in her chest and fire sparking through her body, it's hard for her to focus on any one sensation. he doesn't stop,even as she falls apart, but rather licks and touches her through it until she's no more than a softly whimpering mess. she's surprised she feels herself relaxing at all, but he let's up, and finally, she can breathe, but she inhales so sharply, unable to stop the fall of her tears from the corners of her eyes. ryleigh can only let out a half laugh at his words. she can't taste that good. the petite blonde shakes her head, tries to shift herself away from his attention, but then his head turns and she feels his lips brushing over the back of one of her thighs. ryleigh's fine, if a little tense, and the bubble of emotion she'd felt explodes when his lips brush across one she knows is particularly rough looking, so deep, the skin is raised and puckered pink. she twitches against him, scrambling away from his mouth, from his attention, from those god awful words on his lips. "please don't. they're not... i'm not..." ryleigh curls herself against the corner of the couch, legs tucked against her chest, arms wrapped tight around them. she's crying, and she doesn't mean to, but nobody's ever-- she remembers the pain. remembers every single time she'd felt the sharp edge of the knife dig into her flesh, her vision blurring from the force of her tears. "i'm sorry," she murmurs, voice muffled by her knees.

COOPER

No no no. This-- fuck. This was not how things were supposed to go. He wanted her to feel good. To feel fuckin pampered. But she was crying. Her frame shrinking away from him completely and it was obvious by her reaction the chance of him ever getting the opportunity to actually fuck her was gone. Not that he cared. No-- she was hurting and his chest ached for her as he sat up, the back of his hand swiping at his mouth as he slipped off the couch and onto his knees next to her, dispelling the space between them with the wrap of his arms around her. "I'm not gonna to say 'its ok' or 'I know how you feel'. It's obviously not ok and I dunno how you feel or why you feel that way and I'm not asking and I'm not going to feed you that bullshit..." he murmurs, his grip loose enough that if she wants to pull back, it's not a struggle, "Never fuckin apologize for how you're feelin though. It's valid, even if no one else understands. And I'm not sorry for what I said or did, because that's how I feel, even if you don't..."

RYLEIGH

ryleigh expects him to leave. nobody wants to deal with her minor break down after they've made her cum. she doesn't expect to feel his arms around her, or for him to try and comfort her. when he does, though? when his arms slip around her, she's leaning into his embrace, shifting against him so she's buried into his chest face first, her arms caught between her chest and his. she's not sure how long she let's him hold her, or how long they sit together like this, but she's lulled by the sound of his heart beat. "you were great. i'm a mess," she manages to whisper softly, blinking through the burn of her eyes, fingers spreading over the fabric of his shirt. "it's been a long time since anyone's-- i love sex. don't get me wrong. i'm good at it and i love it a lot, but it's never... i've just had some bad experiences and usually, it's not about what i want or how i feel. so it's-- it was just overwhelming. and i'm not proud of my scars. i am, because i survived, but sometimes they just make feel ugly. damaged. it's like this reminder that no matter how much i try to pretend like i'm okay, that i'm whole, i'm not." god, she's word vomiting all over him. sniffling softly, ryleigh lifts her head away from his chest, hands wiping over her face. "i'm sorry. i've... never told anyone that before." she whispers, before realizing this is cooper and this is probably the last thing he signed up for.

COOPER

he doesn't expect her to lean in. if anything he expected a shove to his chest, maybe a few choked words not so subtly telling him to leave. as dim as people thought he was, Cooper knew he wasn't the guy people looked to for this sort of thing. He was loud and obnoxious and he was fuckin proud of it. He accepted that part of himself, embraced it a long ass time ago. no one brought a fuckin clown to a memorial. but she buried her head against his chest and he can feel his shirt soaking with her tears, but he doesn't move. He's not even sure if he's breathing until he hears her voice, barely above a whisper, breaks the silence. he lets her talk, though he's glad she can't his facial expression shift. he wants to interrupt. To tell her whoever made her feel that way...whoever fuckin did this to her didn't deserve the fuckin air they were breathing and that if he ever ran into them, he'd make it so every breath they took was a fucking struggle. But he managed to keep that, and more than a few others at bay, his jaw flexing as she lifted her head and he met those big blue eyes. They were red-- puffy, but still as gorgeous as ever. Especially as the last of her words fell from her lips and a small smirk curls onto his lips as he presses a kiss just below her eye. He can practically taste the salt as he pulls back, his volume matching hers "Ugh, you gotta stop with the apologies. Does it look like I care? I mean-- I do, but not about that. So stop," he presses another, this time below her other eye, "Nobody is whole, Ryleigh. It's a flippin myth. We all have our scars that make us feel like shit...some wear them on the outside, others on the inside, some are deeper than others and they all effect us differently. Yours at least tell your story of survival...they, no matter how fuckin painful, tell a story. Me? I've got fuckin orbs on my body for shits and giggles. Not even one, Ryleigh. Seven. SEVEN," he said pulling back to show her his wrists.

"But like i said before, your feelings? They’re valid and you can’t help them, sometimes you gotta say fuck it and lean into them to get through them. But you can’t let them define you either, cause your more than that shit--” his voice cut off with a soft chuckle, his eyes pulling from hers as he glances up, “I dunno if that makes any fucking sense. But it feels right to me and I hope you feel it too,”

RYLEIGH

sharing her thoughts, allowing herself not to be okay-- she's spent three years living another life. longer, actually, if you take into account her childhood. living this half life where she can smile at a complete stranger, yet, when caught in the silence of her own space, she immerses herself inside her own heartache. she never shares this part of herself with anyone, because there's a persona she has. one she's kept up very nicely since arriving in town (minus a few setbacks here and there), but for the most part, she's managed to maintain some semblance of normalcy. her cheeks flush when he kisess first one cheek, then the other, her tears clinging to his lips as he pulls away. a watery laugh catches in her throat at his words, but mostly because it was such a cooper way to answer her, but also surprisingly sweet? red rimmed eyes fall to where he holds out his wrists, orangish hued orbs inked upon his skin, barring stars in the middle. she's not sure what they're for, or why, but she's lifting one of her hands to brush her thumb over the soft, sensitive skin. "shits and giggles? no other reason?" she asks softly, her voice raspy due to the effort of trying to hold in her sobs. ryleigh sighs softly. it's the most she's heard cooper talk about anything without him trying to talk about his dick in the same sentence and it's a lot, but not... she appreciates it. him. leaning into him, she presses a soft kiss to his lips and it should deter her, the smell of her on his skin, but she kind of.. likes it? "thank you, cooper. i'm s-- i didn't mean to ruin the moment. it was just very overwhelming for me to feel so many things at once, and then you were kissing them and calling me beautiful and it-- it was overwhelming." she states quietly, licking her parched lips as she remains leaning against him, pantsless.

COOPER

he chuckles, the soft brush tickling a little. "I mean-- yes and no. They're called Dragon Balls...they're nothing alone. Paper weights at best. But together they represent this otherworldly magic with the power to grant any fuckin wish you can dream up. So I could give you some bullshit about how each one represents my siblings and I and how together we can fuckin rule the world, but honestly? It's a fun excuse to get naked and grant some wishes," Cooper said, tossing her a playful wink. There were more than a few reasons he liked the idea of tattooing, most of which would make him sound fucking high, but hey-- any way to cut the tension, right? He smiles into her kiss, warmth spreading through him as she seems to relax a little more. he wasn't afraid of a heavy moment, but fuck were they stressful. And stress wasn't a state he existed in often. As she mentioned the moment, he feigned a glance down, his eyes flicking back up with a coy smirk. "I'm not gonna lie, Big Coop's pretty fuckin soft, but I'd be more worried if he were the opposite. Just don't judge him, he's a grower, not a shower," Not that that was ever a problem. He was almost always a quarter of the way chubbed. A problem? Maybe to some, but to him? Definitely not. "I get that. I know I'm a bit of an acquired taste...but I meant what I said, you are beautiful. Every last inch of you," he muses, squeezing her gently before pressing one last kiss to her lips. Now would be the perfect time to linger. To coax her in to something deeper, something more sensual than the few soft touches they'd been sharing. But he shifts, unwrapping his arms so he can stand, because come on-- as much as he'd love to round the bases and bring it home, he's not a fucking sleaze bag. He knew when the inning was over and this was that. "How about you stay there. Relax and I'll start the fajitas and then you can take over when you start smellin smoke," he teased, moving pantless into the kitchen. Sexy times were over, but that was fine. It wouldn’t be long until he had some delicious fajitas-- decent fajitas, and a beautiful woman to snuggle up to. And that? That was all he really needed.

#::|| cooper #cooperryleigh002 #::|| discord ||::#ryleighmeadows‌

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annabethchaserblr · 7 years

Text

The Mark of Oxin: Chapter One

A narrative retelling of the RPG by Phillip Michael Lester.

Read it on fanfiction.net or archive of our own

The castle was worthy of filling any onlooker with awe. It rose so high its turrets blocked out the blaze of the midday sun; its solemn, grey brick exterior stood in sharp contrast with the candy-green grass and gumdrop-coloured flowers growing along the side of the dirt road just outside. The gigantic, gaping doors stood like a lethal dare—a seemingly unprotected entrance to those who overlooked the sharp slices of sunlight glinting off the steel spears and armour of the royal guards; to the extraordinary observer, eyes could be glimpsed in secret windows in the turrets and in large nooks in the weather-worn bricks, always ready to shoot down intruders. The structure almost gave the impression of an adult looking down on a group of children; a figure of power amongst a crowd of naive followers.

Even Alex, well-travelled though he was, could not bring himself to come any closer. He stood in the shadow cast by the edifice, grateful for the escape from the blistering summer heat. Sweat idly slid down his temples and pooled at his collarbones; at the nape of his neck, it dripped down his back and gave the tickly sensation of crawling spiders until he angrily batted the droplets with his hand, and they absorbed into his threadbare cloth armour.

Everything about Alex was thin: his clothes, his blade, his tattered shoes, his bony limbs. To anyone who dared point them out, he would readily admit to these shortcomings with his signature smirk, hands on hips, and snarky remark ready on his tongue.

But the thinnest thing of all, he could not bring himself to think about: his reason for being in this town.

A recent graduate of his local military academy, Alex had been nothing but confidence when he’d packed his backpack with the bare essentials and left his aunt’s house in the mountains without looking back. Although many, many people had tried to talk him out of his plans of becoming a private soldier for the king, he’d scoffed and dismissed them all without much thought. As far as he knew, he was the only soldier alive capable of casting magic, so that gave him a special edge for a royal profession. And what was more, going on adventures and fighting in important battles was his childhood dream—was he to abandon that for a practical life of herding goats with his cousins?

The time in his life when doubt had started to seep into his mind was when he started having the dreams. Strange, vivid visions of places he’d never seen before. They’d seemed burned into the back of his eyelids each time he woke up in a cold sweat, hurrying to his sketchbook and stick of charcoal to preserve the memory: a snowcapped mountain, a field of pink and yellow wildflowers, a threadbare rope bridge swinging across a chasm. And, finally, a giant grey-brick castle.

The path to the kingdom’s capital.

It was a sign, surely. God wanted him to travel to the capital and become the King’s Chosen One, his right hand man. Alex would have riches; he would have fame; people would tell stories of his victories for generations. In retrospect, he’d probably been babbling like a madman after those dreams, and his aunt’s concerned tone when she spoke to him had been quite justified.

“Alex, are you sure about this?” she’d asked, fidgeting with the lilac scarf round her neck. “I thought you were going to join the War first, get some military experience, maybe get a higher education at university.” she’d given a nervous chuckle then, and the unhappiness of her smile had hammered little cracks in Alex’s resolve.

“Auntie, I can’t delay it,” he’d answered gravely. “I know I’m young, but I have this feeling!” he’d opened his hands emphatically then, like little starbursts with his fingers. Explosions of an idea. “I need to be there now. The time has come for me to prove myself.”

So Alex had left his childhood home and trekked the familiar, treacherous path across the mountain range. There was no road to the capital from his village, so he’d relied on accounts from travelling merchants and his dream sketches to slowly make his way there.

He’d seen the snow-capped mountain. He’d smelled the wildflowers. He’d reinforced the bridge with rope he’d pilfered from his uncle and crossed it.

And he stood now, right next to the castle, and he couldn’t help but feel that doubt and fear had clawed at his willpower for too long; it felt as worn through as the clothes on his back.

Sliding his sweat-slick hair out of his face, Alex once again braved the glare of the sun as he left the shelter of the castle’s shadow and continued down the road. He didn’t know where he was going; in fact, he was barely looking up, his travel-weary eyes continually dropping down to his shoes, watching them make crunching steps on the dry earth. He was procrastinating, and he knew it. He should be looking for a royal envoy, or writing a letter to the castle, or trying to think of some other way to meet with the king. But with every step, he convinced himself that he couldn’t start if he had so few weapons, such shabby clothes, and absolutely no money to do anything about it.

So enveloped in his self-pity was he that Alex didn’t notice the little boy until he literally bumped into him.

“Oof,” went the mousy haired child as he staggered back a step from the impact.

“Oh—I’m sorry,” stammered Alex, guilt prickling his skin, but the boy just gave a wide, gap-toothed grin.

“I found this on the ground,” the boy explained, holding out in his chubby hand a bulging burlap sack Alex hadn’t noticed before. “I want you to have it.”

The bag was half the boy’s size and was apparently too heavy for him to carry, given the suspicious depression in the ground which continued for several hundred feet and led directly to it. Without thinking, Alex bent down and gripped the top of the bag. The boy immediately let go and sprinted away, laughing.

“Wait—stop!” Alex yelled, preparing to run after him, but the bag really was heavy, and Alex’s arms were already shaking from the effort to hold it.

The boy whipped his smiling face around at Alex. “See you soon!” he called, and giggled as he continued to run away, kicking up dirt in his wake.

Red-faced, panting, and a little embarrassed at his inability to run with the extra weight, Alex stopped and held the bag open to peer inside. His jaw dropped even as his cynical mind immediately jumped to doubt the validity of the dozens of gold coins the sunlight illuminated within.

His head whipped to either side of him, brown ponytail flying behind him, as he checked for onlookers. A couple strangers who hadn’t paid him any mind before then looked up, curious about his sudden, strange behaviour. Alex mentally reprimanded himself and searched for a place to test the coins in peace.

Repeatedly chanting act natural in his mind, Alex made his way over to a nearby peach tree, where any passersby would think he was just collecting fruit or something. He flopped down in front of the trunk and fished out a coin from the bag, proceeding to inspect it from every possible angle. It was smooth and a bit warm, the edges ribbed, the sides engraved with an official-looking seal. Alex bit down hard on the coin and was astonished at the dents made in the yellow metal.

It really was gold.

As quickly as he could, Alex dumped the contents of the bag onto the grass beside him and began the meticulous process of counting each one. With every coin, giddiness rose up in him like a tidal wave.

Two hundred gold coins.

With a snap like a broken elastic band, Alex leapt up from his spot by the tree and made a beeline for the nearest weapons store, a gigantic smile stretched across his face.

His wonderful momentum was abruptly halted by a girl with a shock of lime-green hair pushed away from her scowling face by a thick red hairband. With his tunnel vision, Alex hadn’t even seen her until she grabbed his wrist. Not good soldier practice; his general would be disappointed in him.

“The king needs to talk to you,” she declared baldly. The contents of this unceremonious notification dawned on Alex slowly, like sand settling in water. The king wanted to talk to him? Perhaps the monarch was psychic.

“Hmm, I wonder what for?” Alex murmured, more thinking aloud than he was speaking to the girl in front of him. Reprimanding his previously unobservant behaviour, he gave her a second glance, noticing that her dress had the name Carol stitched into it in plain black thread before she turned around and walked away from him. He considered calling after her and demanding more information, or perhaps better closure to their conversation, but he had other things to do. His mind was buzzing from the possibilities and revelations of an already exciting day.

He really should have gone to see the king immediately—it would be rude to ignore a royal request—but he did look quite pathetic in his current state, so he made his way over to the weapons shop first.

“Good day!” greeted the owner with a commercial smile and wave as Alex all but flew in through the front door in his enthusiasm. His jaw dropped as he analysed the walls above his head: shelves lined with battle axes and swords and spears, the blades all gleaming with newness, the handles of soft, pristine leather. Alex had been in his share of weapons shops, given his training as a soldier, but he’d never been in a position to actually afford stuff before. But even as he felt his spirits soar, he knew that two hundred gold wasn’t enough to buy him anything on the higher shelves.

With a slightly narrower grin, he focused his attention on the shelves in front of him: row upon row of palm-sized potion bottles, the glass refracting the sunlight and making the purple liquid within seem to sparkle; haphazard piles of bright crimson apples; a few Phoenix downs draped casually over dusty wooden crates, the fiery colours glinting in the light, reincarnation magic emanating from every fibre of feather.

Alex decided to empty his coffers and buy a Phoenix down (which he attempted to fold before balling it up and stuffing it into his backpack) and two bottles of potion. He probably should have heeded his sage General’s advice and saved some money in case he came across a better shop later, but he never had been the frugal type.

With neither a regret nor a care in his heart, Alex whistled as he jogged down the dirt road to the castle for his audience with the King.

#the mark of oxin #fanfiction #dan and phil #my only ambition in life is for dan and phil to see this

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