#ining of a sex slave

[elvensemi]

I'm Publishing Serial Webnovels

Hi guys! I'm @elvensemi, and some of you might know me from writing Dragon Age fanfic Keeping Secrets, or from writing weird gargoyle porn with @unpretty, or from that time I accidentally told a popular blog I write dragon porn on my main blog @solitarelee, or maybe from that one fanfic where the knight with a crossdressing kink fails at slaying a dragon so hard he gets seduced!

I've graduated college, and you know what that means! Student loans Free time! And so I'm finally pursuing my long term dream and publishing serial webnovels. The short version is: ebooks, I'm publishing ebooks via Patreon to see if it works because I don't want to deal with Amazon and marketplaces. Chuck Tingle does it, kind of!

I am writing such things as!

The Problem with Faeries An urban fantasy series for fans of Holly Black, featuring faeries and a librarian who has been cursed by a witch to turn into a tiny dog at night.

Everything at Once A coming of age fantasy novel set in a post-post-apocalyptic world full of many monsters and very few humans, with a nonbinary (genderfluid) protagonist and a rotating cast of gods and monsters.

The Demon Isles An adult romance series set in the same world as Everything at Once, this one's for the monsterf*ckers. Step into the shoes of an escaped slave who's been stranded in Fantasy Australia But All The Dangerous Things Can Be Seduced.

A Place Among the Stars An adult sci-fi political space opera that is also technically just solidly omegaverse sm*t plus space dragons. That's right, one of my friends dared me to write omegaverse and I overdid it and now they're aliens! All for you my friend.

Novelizations of works that previously existed only as RPs, such as Sanctuary and The Kingdom of Aeris.

AND SO MUCH MORE.

For $5 you get access to SFW material, and for $10 you get access to that and the things that are not SFW. You can view a full summary of the serials I'm working on at tinyurl.com/SemiSerials , or click the read more.

The Demon Isles (NSFW, Second Person)

Oceanside is a world full of elves and gods, monsters and magic. You, however, a human with no magic, no martial training, and a fear of... most things. Stranded on an unfamiliar island full of monsters, you must learn to harness humanity’s true power in order to survive. The issue with that is, as far as anyone can tell, humanity’s true powers are friendship and fuckability.

The Demon Isles is a erotic, second-person monsterfucking romp through the dangerous Demon Isles. The second person character is referred to by gender neutral terminology and they/them pronouns, physical appearance left ambiguous. Sex scenes have two versions with different sets of genitalia for the main character. Tags and content warnings are available for each chapter.

The Problem with Faeries (SFW, Third Person)

The problem with faeries is that we love them. We know all the sharp and cruel ways they twist us apart and we love them with a helpless, hopeless foolishness that never fades until it destroys us.

Bree is a human living in Valesport, a small town on the east coast of the United States that functions as a secret haven for the supernatural. As a cursed human, it’s one of the safer places for her... at least, safe from other humans. Everything else Valesport has to offer remains a threat. She’s already had her run-ins with werewolves, vampires, and whatever the hell Jean Cernunnos is... so, in retrospect, she was probably due to get into trouble with the Fae.

A fan favorite finally finding a venue of publication, The Problem with Faeries is a SFW urban fantasy with a side of romance perfect for fans of Holly Black. It is third person and follows the point of view of the protagonist, Bridget “Bree” Corey, as she finds herself tangled up trying to navigate faerie drama and her own personal feelings, neither of which she is particularly equipped to handle.

Everything at Once (SFW, First Person)

Babs wants everything the world has to offer... everything except what it’s actually prepared to hand over. As the eldest child of the ruling noble family--or what passes for it--of the only human village remaining old and large enough to still have a ruling noble family, even if just in name, Babs’s whole life has been laid out in front of them since the moment they were born. And they want none of it. However, after a bold escape from the village they knew all their life, they find themselves adrift in an unfriendly world of monsters and magic that seems much larger and much less friendly than they had hoped.

Everything at Once is a SFW fantasy novel set all over the world of Oceanside as our determined protagonist, Babs, attempts to explore all there is to explore and experience all there is to experience (it is possible they have not thought this through). Babs is a non-binary, gender fluid illusionist referred to varyingly by he, she, and they pronouns based on presentation. The story is a first person mixed POV exploring a wide range of characters and topics, but always staying focused on the many transformations of the main character as they learn what it is they want... and what it is to want.

Future Projects: Projects that are in development but do not have a set release date yet.

A Place Among the Stars [Working Title] (NSFW)

A Place Among the Stars is a NSFW erotic political space opera featuring Omegaverse style aliens and also space dragons, amongst other alien races. It features two protagonists: an exiled and excommunicated Saint who once led a cult that threatened the peace and stability of his homeworld, and a mid level government official presiding over the walled ghetto where the Ab’ed keep all foreign visitors and immigrants to their planet. They quickly find themselves entangled: politically, as the Saint once again threatens the stability of the world around him--in more ways than one--and sexually, as the tension between the two reaches a fever pitch.

Sanctuary (NSFW, Third Person)

Most people would consider Ren unlucky. After all, she’s been homeless since she was a child, has no living family she knows of, and she was recently kidnapped by sex traffickers and ripped away from the city she had been living in for years. But as far as Ren is concerned, she’s the epitome of good luck: not only has she survived all the things life has thrown at her, but she’s escaped said sex traffickers and even found shelter in an abandoned, boarded up cathedral. The fact that the cathedral, undisturbed for a century or more, is home to a guardian whose only experience with the world is violently murdering intruders, well... once again, whether that’s good or bad luck is based purely on interpretation.

Sanctuary is a NSFW urban fantasy erotic romance featuring a cis female protagonist and a male (as these things go) gargoyle love interest, as well as a mix of other romantic interests (primarily M/F with some F/F or NB/F thrown in). Tags and content warnings are available for each chapter. This fan-favorite returns in serialized, ebook form for easy reading. Follow Ren’s journey anew from mixed perspectives as she explores the streets of Valesport and finds something she’s never had before; a place to call home.

[gusty-wind]

Vril type 1 lizards (terrestrial aliens) are parasitic, carnivorous and malevolent. They’re about one to two feet tall. Their head resembles the body of a king crab and their body is covered in red diamond-shaped scales. They dwell underground. They’re dumb (and are able to talk) but smarter when they turn a human into a host (drone). They have a proboscis (called the Quill), which is located on the top of their head. The proboscis (which looks-like a chocolate chip) contains everything that the lizard is (its consciousness). Their lizard body is dead once the proboscis leaves its body. They can only do this once in their lifetime and if they fail (turning a human into a host), they die. The human that is about to be bodysnatched is either unconscious or restrained. The proboscis enters the human’s eye and spirals around the optic nerve. It then proceeds to go to an area of the brain (driven by taste) that tastes like butterscotch to them. Then, they do a feeling of holding your breath and pushing outwards. Finally, it does what's called “Sweating the Quill” (at the tip of the proboscis), which excretes the parasitic cells that take over the human body. This kills the human and replaces their consciousness with the Vril lizard’s consciousness. The Vril lizard becomes that human (after about a month’s recovery time). This transition from Vril lizard to human is what’s called "Droning". Once a Vril lizard becomes a human, they are then known as a Drone, Host of Vril or a Parasited Host. A person that has had this happen to them, may be referred to as someone that had been possessed by a demon. This is what demonic possession is. In addition, some hosts of Vril (drones) call themselves “walk-ins”, in which they describe how an alien consciousness or soul took over their body. The slit-eye videos that you see all over the web are fake. The Illuminati put these out intentionally to mislead everyone into thinking that one can tell who is a “reptilian” (Vril lizard and a host of Vril aka drone) by checking to see, if their eyes turn to slits. This doesn’t occur and they cannot do this. However, the eyes ARE one way to tell… Sometimes, there may be an eye that pops outward (or inward) due to the droning process or it makes the eye stray, so it looks-like the person is cockeyed or walleyed. There is no shape-shifting either. The so-called shape-shifting is the transition from Vril lizard to human. Those that talk about “reptilian shape-shifters” are referring to Vril and people who have been droned. Drones (Parasited Hosts of Vril) mimic human behavior. They are willing slaves with no compassion and only care about droning other people, torture and sex. They’re murderers. They killed the human to "use" their body and live life

[rollinouttahere-writes]

I love all your yandere AUs and OC/readers that go with them, but Lullaby takes the cake rn because the idea of so many characters thinking they are the dad is the drama I need in life.

Anyways I was wondering how old Rosy would be if she were still alive when the one piece story starts?

Also what is the likelihood of Lullaby having half/full siblings somewhere out there?

(I think lullaby having an older brother would help to explain why Rosy never returned to stay on Amazon Lily and instead continued to wander. Since Amazon Lily is all women and her son wouldn’t be able to stay with her or even that Rosy herself was not fully welcomed back for having given birth to a boy which is an anomaly. Also lullaby’s brother would be able to give her access to all that money Rosy left behind)

Rosy is three years older than Hancock, putting her at 15 when they became slaves. If she were still alive, she would be 32 at the start of the story

I'm going to get into Rosy's early life, so I'm going to put all of that under a cut since I'm going to be touching on really heavy themes like sexual abuses (to minors) and the typical dangers of being a sex worker. If reading that is going to upset you, do not read further.

Unlike her sisters, Rosy never really came back from what happened. Her mind was stunted from being repeatedly assaulted for four years straight, especially since she was regularly throwing herself at the celestial dragons who bought them in an attempt to spare her younger sisters from being abused and/or molested.

When they got back to Amazon Lily, Rosy tried to acclimate, she really did. But she couldn't. She was so accustomed to life as a slave and being seen exclusively as a sex object by everyone that wasn't related to her that suddenly being in a safe environment felt wrong. It pained her to leave her sisters, but she couldn't stand being on Amazon Lily any longer and left it by choice, though she would regularly come back to visit.

She immediately began a career as a sex worker, and it helped to scratch that itch. Everything felt "right" again because this is how it's supposed to be for her. That was all that she thought she was good for. It was rough in the beginning as she learned the ins and outs of the industry, but she found herself enjoying it as time went on. Yes, she was still being reduced down to a sex object, but now she was getting paid for it. As she rose to higher levels, her clients even started buying her nice things, taking her out to fancy dinners, and sometimes even bringing her out on luxury vacations.

Over the years, she made friends with the other women doing this for a living. At first they were sticking together and watching each others' backs as friends, but then it grew into something more. Rosy decided to open up her own personal escort service so as to keep all of her friends together under her protection, as well as to reach out to other women that were being abused by the system. She prioritized her workers above everything else. If they felt unsafe/uncomfortable, they could leave any call with zero repercussions. If a client actually hurt them, Rosy would take care of that piece of shit personally. If someone wanted out of the industry, she would set that person up with a new look and identity on whatever island they wanted. She made everyone else abide by a buddy system to prevent any of her girls from being injured or killed. She was beloved by all the women under her care ans was mourned deeply when she disappeared.

As for potential half-siblings, Rosy would never under any circumstance abandon her child. Family is one of the few things she holds dear in life, and she would rather die than leave her own flesh and blood to fend for itself. Rosy had her faults, sure, but she was a damn good mom that was willing to lay down her own life to give her daughter more of a chance to be found.

If her sisters actually rejected her and banished her from the island over having a son, she would lose it. Such a betrayal would genuinely break her and likely ended in a violent fight between them. The bridge would be fully burned, and her sisters would be dead to her from that moment forward.

Doflamingo would love this development though because it would leave Rosy significantly more vulnerable and susceptible to his manipulation

That being said, I really can't imagine them shunning her over something like that, much less looking at their newborn nephew and hating him just over being a boy. Hancock was able to fall in love with Luffy over the course of what? Hours? So I feel like loving her own nephew wouldn't be hard. And with Hancock being the Empress, I feel like she has the power to make everyone else shut the fuck up if they don't like it.

[iamrizaka]

So I thought about who could be the other winners and made a bunch of ocs

Explanation:

There were seven games with one winner each time.

In the pic it goes: the game – the winner's name – age and godly parent – who brought them

I don't have that much explanation about each of them, except the main three, but:

Darius Fyodorov

A son of Ares who has lots of insecurities resulting in superiority complex. He was picking lots of fights back in CHB, but was (and sorta still is) a nice person towards his friends. He is easy to lose temper once you call him weak or how his father doesn't care about him, giving attention to his siblings, especially Clarisse. It was his main reason to join Luke in his rebellion: to show everyone, including his father and older sister, that he's worth their praises and to be called the best.

Now he's Demeter's slave, but she doesn't spend much time in bed with him, instead preferring making him work in the fields.

Ines Hart

A daughter of Aphrodite, she is very similar to Silena. They were actually close, with Silena becoming a head counselor of cabin nine after she left. She was actually the one to convince Silena to become their spy at camp. Before Silena she was the one giving information to Luke and others, but after Thalia came back from being a tree, she had to leave camp as there were more and more people growing suspicious of her. Her reason to join rebellion was the same as Darius', but she was way less verbal about it and didn't seek praise from her mother. She was known at camp as big sister, so it was a harsh blow when she ran away.

I haven't thought out why Athena chose her, but Ines made several attempts at attacking the goddess, getting information for escape and just trying to escape, but none of it worked out. In the end, Ines gave up and decided to just enjoy the pretty clothing and tasty food she gets from the goddess. No, they don't have sex.

Myron Macías

A child of Hephaestus, he always felt inferior to his siblings, especially because of his chronic pain and how hard it makes walking for him. They would've continued to spend their time at the forges if Ines didn't offer him to continue working at the godly forges when they overthrow olympians. It still took him some time to agree, but eventually they ended up making most of the armor and weapons for the demigods in the army. And no, he doesn't have a crush on Ines, what are you saying?

Now he belongs to Aphrodite, who "takes pity on him" and spends a night with him once or twice a week. But it is followed by increased pain in the morning. And thoughts that he's sleeping with his stepmother. That's weird.

And he isn't allowed in the forges, which drives him crazy. He picks at his skin whenever he gets the need to feel the heat, the metal underneath his fingers and see the creation of a new tool.

Amelia Finch

A daughter of Demeter, she was saved from the streets by the Titan Army and ended up joining it. She had nowhere else to go after running away from an orphanage, and these people are so kind to her, although she's such a trouble. She is a curious girl, always close to one of the older demigods, asking questions about mythology and what they are doing. She was excited to meet her siblings and always made sure that they knew she's here to listen if they had a problem or just needed company.

After the fall of Kronos, she was made into an Avox, a voiceless slave, but due to so many demigods killing themselves before the last game, she and some other slaves were included in the games as participants. She still doesn't know what to think of her current situation. And being Apollo's bedwarmer doesn't help. At least her friends are here to support her and comfort her after her first night and many others.

That's all I have for now, feel free to comment!

[the-assignment]

Blog #4 - Alternate Histories

I think one of the most interesting things to think about – especially when considering an event or certain topic – is what would it be like if it happened another way? The idea of alternate history is so fascinating to me. I first learned about this type of thinking (on an academic level) actually in my Historical and Sociological Methods course. And now it is a theme for this week in my Afrofuturism class.  

The idea can come from a single question or line of thought – what would’ve happened if...? If it happened a different way, if it didn’t happen at all, if it happened to different people or a different country, etc. And it’s really interesting because this can be used to think about anything through a new lens or perspective. It can be used to consider role reversals in terms of race or sex / gender or what if X did/n’t happen. What if Martin Luther King, Jr. wasn’t assassinated? What if it was the Founding Mother's instead of the Founding Fathers and what if Black people were the ones with the power and enslaved white Europeans instead?

And this final question is so fascinating to think about – but is also very complex. Which is why I am very glad that I was able to hear author Steven Barnes talk about this concept when he virtually visited our class to talk about his novel Lions Blood – as well as the concept of alternate histories in general, and how the book came together and came to be. What really caught my attention was Barnes’ attention to detail and the care he put into creating a novel that dealt with alternate histories. It was not a concept that he took lightly – and in fact, he shared a story about not taking an earlier job as he didn’t feel like it would be the best avenue to talk about race reversals beyond easy jokes and tropes – and instead, did 6 years of historical (and slave) research to get it right for the book.

He also had great insight into what goes into making alternate histories that are good, that work, and that are realistic – like only changing one thing and then seeing how that affects – or doesn’t affect – other aspects of the social, political, cultural world around the change, additionally the changed factor should be logical, and it should be a significant change that means something – otherwise the reader wouldn’t really care or follow along.

I thought it was also really critical that Barnes brought attention to how important it is to have a basic understanding of history – to understand what happened and why it did – what aided this event to begin with, etc. – to know the ins and outs of what occurred in order to – and before – you can impactfully change or alter the event in any significant way. Otherwise, it can fall into the trap of stereotypes and tropes, or be illogical, or uncompelling, or just skim the surface.

It’s a good reminder that when creating these alternate histories, that there is a delicate balance of creating entertainment and asking (and answering) hard questions.

[writefightandflightclub]

Captain of the team

AKA: Santi’s a dom unless Will’s in the room

(Fem!Reader x Triple Frontier boys)

Summary: When it comes to group sex, you need one F to spell “fuuuck” and 3 M’s to spell “Mmm” (AKA, Santi’s not as straight as he thought, and other things he learns when the boys dick you down together.).

Genre: Porn with some plot.

Rating: EXPLICIT AS ALL HELL. DO NOT READ OR INTERACT UNLESS YOU ARE 18+ ⚠️

Word count: 20k. LONG, but broken into sections.

Author’s note: I know the TF x group sex / gangbang / poly sex has been DONE. The existing examples are stellar ✨ and each so unique that I haven’t really wanted to tackle it myself! Tbqh, I probably didn’t do anything fresh with the beloved trope (and oh boy this evolved so much as I was writing and became something entirely different to what I was shooting for) but I hope I managed to put some small spin on it, somehow, that means you enjoy reading this?! One huge disclaimer: Benny’s not there, I’m sorry, I know some of you will be exceedingly upset with me (but don’t hate me bc neither is Tom, okay - so bear in mind I could have been even meaner to you! 😂) Finally, READ THE WARNINGS to decide if it’s your thing. It’s far softer and ultimately more loving than it sounds when I just list out all of the explicit acts they perform (for real, who says gagging on dick can’t be romantic though, lol, it’s actually a thing that can be so personal 😆), but there are defo things in there which might not be for everyone! So, you’ve literally been warned! If it’s not for you, that’s fine! P.s . This is the theatrical release, I guess. The Director’s Cut went further with some of the kinks (I am a slut for some consensual degradation), but maybe you can convince me to share some deleted scenes, who knows? 😉 I also left it very open for prequels and sequels.

Warnings: EXPLICIT SMUT: all consensual - some consent happens off-screen. MMM on F Gangbang -> mixed M/F + M/M group sex. Things the boys to do reader (as part of planned, consensual scene): service kink; degradation; name calling (toy, slut, whore, good girl etc.) oral sex inc. gagging / brief rough oral, cum swallowing; cum play; spitting in mouth; slave/master dynamics; dom/sub dynamics (sub!reader); brief ball play (sucking, resting on face); P in V sex (unprotected); creampies; cumshots (on face / body); masturbation; fingering; oral sex (receiving); orgasm denial; anal sex (unprotected); gangbang (ish, no DP, sorry!); light slapping (clit); light choking; kissing; aftercare and lots of check-ins / love 💕 Other explicit stuff: rimming (f giving m receiving); first time having explicitly queer sex; MM anal; MM blowjob; M eating M’s cum; sub!M; MM kissing; slight praise kink including terms such as “good boy”/“baby boy”; hair pulling; slight size kink; aftercare. (ask if you’d like more info on any of the above warnings!). General warnings: alcohol mentions, Catholicism mentions, language, mild angst- implied past relationship fuck-up (vague). Disclaimer: this is not a guide to real-life sexual activity. It’s a fantasy fic! Be safe! 😊🧡

Shout-out: to @astroboots because CiCi’s Santi is basically canon to me now. Definitely influenced this Santi calling Frankie “Frank” in this fic. I didn’t used to do that but it’s the only way I can hear it now! 🙈You’re all gonna want to RUN to check out CiCi’s Homecoming series tbh, for the most beautiful Santi/Frankie/reader relationship. Trust me! 🧡 Also, I have to shout-out the OG and flawless TF gangbang fic by @mylifeliterally, the amazing Santi/Frankie threesome by @adverbedly, @autumnleaves1991-blog’s amazing Santi x reader x Benny series, and @charnelhouse’s TFboys x reader series. (What are you even doing in THIS fic to be honest because you NEED to read all of these RIGHT NOW instead!!) I’m sure there are more I need to mention too but sorry that they escape me for now! (LMK if you wanna be untagged!)

Also a huge thank you to everyone who helped me understand American football a little bit! So sorry I used my new-found knowledge in such a crude way 🍆💦😅

THEY’RE GONNA NEED A BOAT WITH HOW WET THEY’LL GET YOU 😂

Pre-Game

“You okay, baby? You ready?”. Will dips to plant a soft kiss on your temple, the moment before you enter the scene far more romantic than you’d ever have expected.

As his large, warm hands inch slow and steady down your back, over silk and lace and skin, you feel a molten heat surge in your core. A slick builds between your legs simply owing to the fact he’s fully clothed and you’re dressed in something barely there, feeling on display as his eyes rake over you.

“Yes,” you nod, a subtle hitch in your breath which grates your words - makes them husky. “Very ready.”

A knowing, confident smile inches over Will’s face and it makes you hot for him - his easy manner a clear sign of the trust and bond between you as you prepare for what lies in store beyond the door. And, even though you mirror his ease, his comfort, his piercing blue eyes study you carefully just to be sure that you want this. With affection, feeling reassured, he dips to press another tender kiss to the middle of your brow, his blond beard tickling your nose.

With a surge of confidence as you feel Will’s arousal press against your hip, you loop your arms around his neck and plant a sweet, lingering kiss to the corner of his lips. You can’t help the devilish grin which claims your face, and, feigning a coyness which you expect Will to see straight through, you bury your words against his cheek. “Do you… think they’ll enjoy me?”

Will’s chest shakes up against yours then, with a deep, resonant chuckle. It isn’t mocking - instead it is familiar, reassuring- and you can picture the creases radiating from around your golden boy’s eyes like beams of warm sun. “Don’t act all shy now, angel,” he says, tone as tender as his touch, meaning even his dirty words sound flowered. “This whole deal was your idea, you filthy little thing.”

Your lips quirk again into a mischievous smile. It was your idea, that’s right, but still, you’re not past fishing for compliments from your big strong man. “But will they? Enjoy me?” you purr.

Will’s eyes sweep over you - or as much of you as he can see with you held so close. That means your face and lips and tits, and a hum of appreciation reverberates in his chest. “Baby. How could they not?” he praises, voice thick and dripping like warm honey. “You’re delectable. Delicious.”

You love him like this, slow moving and teasing and all restrained. Will can end you with the barest of touches, as it makes you crave what you know the man is capable of unleashing. The latent power of him. The force of him.

Even now, you gasp as he gingerly grips your chin, tilting your head to the side and you follow his lead, offering your neck to him freely. The air itself grows syrupy as he sinks his pink mouth to your skin, all supple warm tongue and ticklish brush of blonde goatee against your pulse point. You whimper, as he works a chain of kisses up to the shell of your ear, decorating you with a string of glistening pearls. “So pretty,” he whispers, praises, and his voice shivers down to your bones, making you heat from within. As you whimper for him, you feel the curl of a satisfied smile against your cheek - a shifting scrape of facial hair and muscle. “So pretty… and we’re about to ruin you, Princess.”

Fuck. At the mere suggestion of what is to come, a deep note keens in your chest, breathy and pitching-up at the end - a cracked-open sound already.

You can feel Will getting excited too, the press of his warm firm body all bulges - pecs and biceps and bulk and increasingly, that thick, straining mass beneath denim.

You pull away from him though, sultry, teasing, and his lips and eyes and hands and his whole damn being chase your skin - the feel of you. His cock even fills to reach for you, the tenting arousal evident in his jeans.

“Mmmph,” Will sounds, tone petulant as he immediately feels the loss of your warmth in his arms. “Can’t I have you all to myself just a little bit longer?”

Well, now there’s a thought. The smouldering look he’s giving you is certainly tempting; but, you resist this pleasure, in favour of the pleasures in store. “No, handsome,” you coo, in a husky tone which you hope sinks all the way into his crotch. “Remember? Today you have to share.”

A gulp trails down Will’s throat and you feel some pride in it - he’s so hard to fluster - and then he is sweeping his eyes over you just once more, head to toe this time, and shaking his head in utter disbelief at the sight of you -“Goddamn”. Next, he slides his warm grip down your arm and along the underside of your wrist. As a pleasant hum beds down under your skin he raises your hand to his lips, the pad of his thumb gently stroking back and forth as he plants a kiss to each of your knuckles like some gallant prince. And then, adjusting his erection with a downwards tug on the crotch seam of his pants, he offers you an adoring, doe-eyed grin. “I can’t wait to watch you, angel. You’re gonna look so good taking care of us.”

Then, with fascination, you watch his expression and manner subtly shift. You watch him enter his role, and his eyes are sterner and colder as he turns to you. You feel a thrill deep in the pit of your stomach as he reaches one arm -roped with popping veins- up to the back of your neck and squeezes, driving you on towards the door with a measured shove, his voice a deep, dark drawl now. “Now get in there, slut, the boys are waiting.”

They are.

Waiting. 

Waiting with one express purpose.

Today, Will is going to share, and together, they are going to ruin you.

First Quarter, Second Quarter

“Fuuuck,” Frankie keens, his voice deep and frayed and stuttering apart like an engine struggling to start as your mouth sinks down on his length, again and again and again with a delicious glug.

Frankie should know fine well he’s supposed to play into the role; to get a little rough with you - that’s what you want - but apparently what you’re doing to him feels far too divine for that, because instead of... anything, his head is thrown back on to the lip of the couch, his eyes screwed shut and breaths entirely ragged. And his hands? His hands are wildly fisting for some purchase, claws sinking into whatever is nearby.

Well, “whatever is nearby” happens to be the sturdy thighs of Santi and Will, respectively, sat at either side of him, both entirely rapt while watching this whole thing go down - go down your throat that is.

“Jesus. Fuck is right, Frank,” Santi says in awe, his own hard cock twitching in his pants and he has to shift in his seat - has to unzip his fly to make room because he’s too full. Too full and tender as Frankie twists, burying his head in his buddy’s neck and moaning right next to his ear, hot breath fanning over Santi’s neck and making him shiver - sending a glorious prickle crawling under his skin and all the way to the tip of his dick.

Santi’s never thought about his friend in that way -at least, not before right now, not that he’d admit- but the other man’s noises are… certainly doing something for him. Something in the crotch area, specifically.

Goddamn, so is the sight of you. Holy shit, look at you, in this silly little outfit, half your tits and ass hanging out, and that smug, self-satisfied glint in your eyes. That look in your eyes as you accommodate Frankie almost all the way. How fucking pleased you are with yourself because of the fact you have all three men sat hard and straining before you and so eager to be… serviced.

“Please, she isn’t even trying. Stop teasing and make him come, honey,” Will commands coolly, reaching across Frankie’s lap to grab you by the back of the head in his broad, sure grip. To do Frankie’s job for him and drive you down on the man’s length until you are spluttering with it.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Santi exclaims as Will holds you there and you take it, all the way, and -fuck- he had expected this would be a fun experience for him, sure, but he’d never realised how much he would enjoy watching. Watching Will’s brow burdened with purpose, face stern and all angles and his piercing blue eyes cold and hard and intimidating. Watching Frankie lose it, eyes screwed shut and lips parted and squirming - almost bucking off the couch in ecstasy and desperately clawing at anything he can touch like something feral. And those noises out of his mouth? Holy shit.

Finally, and last but definitely not least, Santi is awed by the sight of you, so dutifully gagging on Frankie’s length as Will holds you down. Holds you until you can’t take it - until you tap out with your palms on their thighs and he allows you to surge off of him, all spluttering noises and cock swollen, spit-shined lips, still linked to Frankie by gossamer threads, and that alone would be enough - more than enough to tip Santi over the edge but you don’t relent there though; no. Next, your hand wraps around the slick base of Frankie’s cock, making him look huge in your grip, your liberal spit inching down over his balls and you begin to pump, your tongue and lips working all over Frankie’s shaft and his artfully contoured head until he is undone and filling your mouth up.

Fuck, that’s a pretty mouth.

Fuck, that’s a pretty cock too.

Santi’s own arousal throbs, in dire need of some attention by now, and so he grips himself in the circle of his hand and squeezes a little. Squeezes; however, he immediately has to stop. Has to stop pumping himself or he’d nut at the sight of Frankie still pulsing his seed into your throat, flooding over your tongue, that deep crimson flush over the ruddy head of him, and fuck, you’re swallowing it down and all the while you’re looking at Santi. Looking at Santi and giving him the eye since it’s no use looking at Frankie - the man’s head buried in Will’s chest by now, the larger man smoothing his hand over his cheek and his patchy beard and helping him come back down with a smug grin plastered over his chiselled features.

So, here you are instead, eyeing Santi like nothing he’s ever seen -as though you’re promising him “you’re next” even as you swallow Frankie’s load down with relish, his hot cum slipped down your throat and the residual salt tang of him being licked from your teeth and lips and fuck if Santi doesn’t wanna kiss you while you still taste of him.

Santi doesn’t kiss you though. Doesn’t make a move to. Doesn’t make any move at all. Just sits there with his jaw slack and his dick in his hand as though he’s not good at this. As though he’s forgotten all the ways he can take a woman apart or all the ways he might get his rocks off. Instead of making a move -the thing he does, the thing he’s fucking known for- he’s holding his own dick in his hand and he can hardly believe what he’s seeing. Can hardly believe it’s true.

It all feels unreal; something akin to the moments after an explosion when all there is is ringing - blurred noise and slurred sound and blurred reality except this time it’s a good thing, his body vibrating; humming with pleasure already and you haven’t even touched him.

You haven’t touched him… yet, but the dark promise in your eyes hints at what’s coming.

He’s next.

And so, after doing a thorough job of milking Frankie for every drop, draining his balls dry, you lift off the man’s softening dick with a pop, his flushed head shined and sucked clean, and yet you only look hungry for more.

Hungry, and you bite your lower lip and dip your head - playing all deferential - and you look to Will. You look to Will, and Santi always fancied himself in charge but it’s obvious now - it’s Will, isn’t it? The only fucker in the room holding it together, sitting there with a shit-eating grin and looking about as fucking pleased with himself as you do while he watches his woman dismantle his buddies, taking them apart piece by mother-fucking piece.

“Enjoying yourself, baby?” Will asks you in his deep, steady drawl and you offer him a wicked smile. You are brazen as all hell, looking your fucking boyfriend in the eye while your lips and chin are still shined with spit from gagging on Frankie’s size and Santi can’t handle how fucking hot you are. How this is the hottest fucking thing he’s ever done, ever seen, and you still haven’t even touched him.

“Yeah, I thought so, you fucking whore,” Will scolds, his expression darkening, the smile dropping from his face and his words gathering dark. “Give Pope’s cock some attention now, you greedy little toy.”

Fuck. He’s next.

Santi’s next and he feels already like he’s floating outside of his own body. Floating like he’s in some fever dream, but somehow Will’s voice drags him back into the room. “You good, Pope?” Will asks with just a hint of amusement as his buddy is lost for words, and Santi finally shivers down into his own body. Will’s voice is steady - deep and earthy, and Santi realises suddenly that it always did ground him, even in the heat of battle. Always brought him back to the moment, giving him comfort and purpose, Will a constant calm amidst choas.

Santi blinks wordlessly still -has he even fucking said anything this whole damn time?- his jaw dropped open and his lashes fluttering as though he’s a shy virgin or some shit. “Uh… uh-huh,” he insists, voice grogged by lack of use, and a slow pearly smile drags over Will’s chiselled features. “Good. Want a turn of her?” he offers, and fuck, was his voice always so deep? Did it always hit so deep?

Does he? Does he want a turn? Hell, yeah he does. He’ll probably nut in you in seconds but yes - yes he fucking does, thank you very much.

“Yes,” Santi rasps, and the word barely comes out, so he tries it again. “Yes. Yeah, I do. Please.” Fuck if he knows why he’s being so damn polite about it, but it is what it is. He needs you. He’d beg for it if he had to but look at you, so willing.

“Yeah you fucking do,” Frankie praises as he comes back down to earth, still panting as he turns his head back from Will’s chest, bringing his voice tantalisingly close again to Santi’s ear, his lips so close to the bare skin at the column of his neck that if he leaned a little he could kiss him. “Shit. Feels so good in that wet little mouth, man.”

Christ, Frankie talking dirty is something else.

“Give him a turn,” Will orders coolly, eyebrows raised and head dipped and tone stern like he won’t fucking tell you again. The Miller brother is apparently the only one of the lot of them hitting the brief, even as his own erection sits nestled beneath the band of his black underwear, his jeans unzipped to offer breathing room to the veiny, straining mass of him.

This brief, this idea? It was you - it was all you, and then suddenly it was all of them too.

You had this fantasy, see. About being used. But not just being used by anyone. Being used by them. About them all watching the game -or whatever, something on the flatscreen. Ignoring you mostly, except for when you were serving them. Bringing them snacks, beers, anything they asked for, whilst wrapped up like a present in this obscenely skimpy little outfit. And then, the scene progressing. Serving them in other ways too, while they treated you like a little toy, made for their pleasure. While they watched the game or whatever and barely acknowledged you except when they were using you to get off.

You’d been very clear about that. Very explicit about how you enjoyed being degraded a little. You’d wanted them almost bored with it.

Well, it’s funny then, isn’t it? Because Santi has never been further away from bored in his goddamn life. He has never been so riveted, so captivated, and all he’s done so far is sat with his dick in his hand and fucking watched.

You flash a bratty, insolent look to Will as he speaks - God you’re a minx, fucking delicious - and the man licks his lips at the sight of you, kneeling and compliant and eager and about to be used all over again. Santi watches Will work his throat around a hard swallow. Watches his eyes darken with lust all his own and he knows the man’s envisaging taking his turn with you. And on the flip side, Santi is engrossed with the way you are held rapt as well, bound and controlled effortlessly by Will’s cool, quiet authority. Speaking of: “Stop distracting me from the game and suck on Pope’s cock - I won’t be pleased if I have to make you.”

Well, Santi’s definitely not going to argue with that plan - and it looks like you’re not either. He’s certainly not; not after the noises Frankie was just making. “Yeah, yeah,” he encourages, whisper soft, tipping his chin up as you slink towards him on your knees, an utterly devastating glint in your eye. “That’s it, hermosa,” he encourages, voice sunken with need and barely there - as if he’s never given an order in his fucking life. Never spoken a word in his fucking life. “Come put your mouth on me.”

Christ - never mind Frankie coming apart- he couldn’t have looked further from bored while you sucked him off and Santi’s not sure he’s got the memo either. You want him to be mean, but look at you. He just wants to fucking worship you.

He loves you too much to-

No. Wait.

No. He parks that thought for later. Buries it even. Maybe for a therapy session where he can talk about why on Earth he’d fall for his best friend’s girl.

Instead, he focusses up. After all, it’s not like he isn’t into the idea of all this - not like he doesn’t get the premise of all of them treating you some kinda way. For sure, it turns him on too - more than he could have realised.

Even the discussions beforehand had gotten Santi as hard as a rock. In the weeks leading up to this, he can’t remember ever jerking off quite so vigorously or so often. Can’t remember coming quite so hard in a long while. The conversations about which skimpy little outfit you would wear, and the fashion shows which followed. Talking about exactly what you liked (and didn’t), exactly what they could do to you (and what they couldn’t). What you could do to them and all the ways how. You’d all been meticulous about planning it - Will especially, of course, like it was a fucking military operation. Hell, Santi could swear they’d done less prep pre-Lorea.

Everyone was clear on their role; but, now that Santi has you here, on your knees like this, fuck if he doesn’t want to give you every shred of his focus and attention like you deserve.

Luckily, he’s a generous lover - if you want him to be mean, he can do that for you. Can give you what you need - take care of you like that. “Yeah, come here,” he coaxes you, his voice finally coming back to him, laying a sugared-trap. “Open your mouth,” he commands - still softly, still brandishing his ruddy, veined length in his hand, a purple flush creeping over the head of him. Shifting his hips forward on the couch so that he can smack you in the cheek with his need-laden cock a few times for good measure, before dipping the head of him into your wetness and warmth, letting the heaviness of him fall over your tongue and the weight of his hand settle on top of your head. “There you go, baby girl,” he soothes as you take him, opening up around him and getting used to his girth. “That’s it. Such a good little toy.”

Shit, Frankie wasn’t wrong, you feel good - and a cracked, disbelieving laugh even keens in his throat, his hips jolting up on instinct as he seeks to bury himself balls-deep in your mouth. 

“Hnnng. You look pretty getting sucked off, Pope,” Frankie rumbles next to his ear and fuuuuck.

Santi could nut right now. “Unnf, you fucking asshole, Frank,” he curses, as he feels a jolt of pleasure zip along his length - making his whole body tingle. 

But, thankfully -and he’s not even sure how- Santi remembers his role, and maybe that’s a good thing right now. Maybe it’s a good thing that he can simply guide your head down on his shaft like you’re a little toy. That he can simply sit there in his baseball cap, jeans pushed down around his hips, obnoxiously chewing his gum and ever so casually fucking into you. Watching the flickering flat screen and focussing on the background drawl of the commentator instead of how good it feels between his legs. Maybe it’s a good thing - because if Santi directed his full attention to you, like he wants to - if he directed his attention to Frankie or even Will, each of them languidly stroking their hard-ons in his periphery... If he did that, he’d come undone right there and then, and after so long waiting for you, he is keen to make this last. 

That’s all very well, except - ohhhhh. Ah. Jesus, where did you misplace your gag reflex all of a sudden because he’s fucking buried in you to the hilt, your nose settled all the way down into the patch of dark curls, forehead pressed against the slight softness of his stomach. 

Grabbing your hair in his fist, Santi pulls you off him urgently, his hips stuttering, breathing deeply until he can regain some morsel of control.

You look at him then - how you had looked at him once, so many years ago; before Will - your gaze veiled with innocence and lashes batting up at him and devouring him and wrecking him and he can hardly tear his eyes away.

Apparently the others can’t look away from you either, resonant hums of approval coming from his right, hands pumping their stiffened cocks with increasing vigour.

Still, Frankie pauses his own ministrations for a moment as Santi gusts out a breath, warm and sweating and shuddering and on the edge. “Come here, idiota,” the man breathes, deceptively soft, gingerly lifting the baseball cap from off of Santi’s head and rifling a hand through his grizzled curls for good measure.

Santi tries to ignore all of it. You, the look of you, the feel of you. The way Frankie’s small act of service makes his stomach flip. The way your hands are pressed flat and snaking up his thighs. The way Frankie’s hand lingers on his head a little longer than necessary, fingers raking through the length at his crown. “Better?” Frankie asks him, in a familiar tone. A tone that says he promises to always be there when Santi is in a pinch. To be there whether he’s bleeding out on some jungle floor or whether he’s too drunk on your mouth to take his hat off while you suck his balls dry.

“Better?” Frankie repeats, and Santi imagines answering his question with a kiss, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t yet, but as he turns his head to his buddy there is the hint of a promise there too. A promise that he’ll get his turn as well. A promise Santi would be keen to chase if you weren’t sucking his soul out of his dick like you’re trying to exorcise him from his own body. “Fuck. Look at this, boys,” Santi says in awe before he even really realises what he’s saying. “Fucking look at this pretty little slut choking on my cock.”

The boys chuckle next to him, throaty and deep and gruff and it does things to him, especially as your tongue circles diligently around the tip of him. “She loves your cock, Pope,” Will drawls. “Uhhh. Look at her - the little cumslut’s so hungry for your load.”

Santi wasn’t ready. Ready and willing, yes; but not prepared. For how much he’d enjoy being watched.

And, uhhhhh, holy shit, apparently you liked being talked about like this - like you’re not even there as they compare notes - because next, you hum pleasantly around his length. You suck him more vigorously and reach your hand up to squeeze and tug his balls, and Santi tips his head right back, moaning into Frankie’s neck as you work him.

Jesus, the man smells good.

“Fuuuck, cariño,” Frankie breathes, a tremor in his voice and Santi isn’t even sure. Isn’t sure whether his buddy is talking to you or to him; but part of him doesn’t much care - either way he likes it.

Santi is on the edge. He’s on the edge and, in this moment, he looks to Will, a helpless, sideward glance. He looks to Will because of course he does. Because that’s who everyone looks to when they’re in need, when they’re needy, when they need an order, and he watches Will tug his shirt off over his head, putting his rippling muscles on display, his latent power obvious and primed and his blue eyes intent on your mouth and Santi’s cock filling it. Looking at him too. Enjoying him too. 

Fuck.

Santi’s eyes screw shut then and he’s not faring much better than Frankie had by this point - not that’s he’s complaining - the sight of you and sound of Frankie and raw power of Will almost too much. Almost. Too much and yet somehow he wants… more.

“Wait ‘til we’re all done with you. Gonna paint you with cum, baby. Fill all your greedy holes, huh?” Santi moans hard when Will says that, and his eyes would roll back into his head -probably- if they weren’t already fluttered closed, long dark lashes fanning on his cheek.

He wants to. Wants to paint you. Fill you. But Santi listens to Will and he can almost imagine the man is talking to him. About him and not you. 

That thought, along with the wicked sensations you’re delivering gets Santi far too close to the edge all over again, and so he tugs on your hair to have you release him from the wet, slippy channel of your throat. His busted knees quaking beneath him -so much so that he thinks this might be it, might finally be the moment they decide give out- Santi stands, tugging his tee over his head and tossing it aside. Shifting his jeans and boxers further down his thighs with a jangle of his belt, baring his ass to Frankie and Will and not caring.

And then… Then, he looks back at you, kneeling ever so obediently and expectantly at his feet. With a grunt, his brow burdened with a furious need, Santi takes his length in his own fist and begins to pump, with a pace suggesting he’s about to spill his load. You simply smirk deliciously, raising an eyebrow and tipping your face up towards him before closing your eyes and bracing - flinching at intervals as you await the sudden spurt of thick ropes of come being dumped over your face. “Nuh-uh. Open your mouth, you little slut,” he growls, enjoying this power play, the mischievous glint in your eyes encouraging him. “Open your mouth. Gonna come over your tongue and I don’t want you to swallow. Keep it in there, understand? Let me see it.”

He hears a needy, awed moan from behind him and meanwhile a whine slips from your lips - the sounds a divine contrast of hard and gruff and sweet and liquid. 

You answer him, making the closest sounds to a yes Santiago as you can with your mouth open wide for him, pink tongue glistening. E, aaa-eee-aaa-ooo.

And then, Will is standing too to get a better view. Frankie also. The men stand until they’re all crowding you, lengths brandished as you kneel. They are stood forming a gaggle around you, delivering mumbled, awed words of both praise and degradation, the syllables mingling with the wet, rhythmic fap of Santi’s hand and then…

Liquid.

Warm and sudden ropes of salt sprayed into your mouth, over your lips, across your cheek as Santi’s aim falters in the moment. As he stutters his hips into his hand and paints you with his thick, pearly seed.

“Good girl. Good fucking girl,” Will praises.

“Show me,” Frankie asks in awe and you stick out your tongue, almost proudly. You exhibit your face covered in his load and slipping from your smooth skin, coursing down towards your jaw.

Then, Will grabs the underside of your chin in his hand and stoops over, his long, toned body hinging at the hips. “Yeah, show us. Keep that pretty mouth open.” You moan, flowered vowel noises and Will just grips you harder, tipping your chin up and ceremoniously spitting in your mouth.

Well, fuck.

If Santi could come all over again - if it was possible - he thinks he would in that moment, watching Will do this to you and you loving it. Listening to him order you around. Telling you to swallow down Santi’s load then show them all your mouth is empty. Dragging your head towards his crotch so that he can rest his balls over your mouth and nose, rubbing them on you and moving the remaining come -his come- around your face.

Santi wonders if Will might take your mouth too, but he’s still showing some restraint it seems. Still patiently waiting his turn, and so instead, his touch softens around your jaw. He strokes your cheek tenderly despite the mess of spit and seed. “You good, baby?” he asks you softly, checking-in. “You liked that, huh?”

Will brings you to standing and you grip his forearms to steady yourself and you smile - a bright, beautiful smile that knocks Santi for six. Then, you tongue the remaining pearls of him from your lips before wiping your mouth on the back of your arm. “Fuck, yeah.”

Will looks at you and the energy between the two of you is sizzling. Alive and consuming and Will’s hard as a rock between your bodies and God, Santi would love to watch the man take you. Would love to watch his primed, coiled muscles in action, dominating your form. It’s not like he hasn’t thought about it before. Hasn’t imagined it.

“Let me feel you, huh?” Will purrs, his lips twitching into a smile. “Let me feel how wet you are?”

Santi watches, his jaw dropped open all over again, still reeling from that orgasm and still unable to tear his eyes away from you. Unable to move away as Frankie wraps and arm around his bare shoulders and tugs him a little closer into his side, even as he puts his dick away and pulls up his jeans.

Santi and Frankie both watch, as Will’s hand winds around your hips and ass and disappears in between your thighs, and they don’t see his fingers spear you from this angle but they see it play across your face, the flutter of your eyes and the knitting together of your brows and the way you almost collapse into Will, arms bundling into his sturdy chest as you are finally allowed a morsel of pleasure for yourself. They hear Will’s halfway wicked chuckle as he works himself inside you, his arm pumping, roped with popping veins and tendons. “Fucking dripping,” he drawls, managing to sound impressed and scolding all at once as you languish against him, and Santi swears he can hear your slick being forced out of you.

Then, Will abruptly removes his hand from beneath your excuse for a skirt, earning a groan from you and revealing his two middle fingers to the other men. They are glistening up to the knuckle with your juices, which he smears unceremoniously along your chest as he wipes himself clean on you.

“Think you’re having too much fun, whore,” Will scolds, tugging your outfit down over your tits and grabbing one breast harshly in his broad grip, giving it a tug. “Don’t go forgetting your place, Princess. This isn’t for you, understand?Fuck. Santi should move, he thinks. Say something, do something. Anything. Totally should; but he can’t. He’s rooted to the spot, Frankie’s arms still wrapped around his shoulders. “Now go and get some beers and make yourself useful.”

Will’s tone is harsh yet playful - just as playful as the look in your eyes as you nod deferentially in response to his command, and the small exchanges are not lost on Santi. He sees when Will crooks his finger and massages that spot just behind your earlobe. He sees his blue eyes search yours until you give him a soft nod of reassurance, Will dipping to whisper that he’ll be right out before his eyes follow you adoringly out of the room.

Then, standing there like a fucking Adonis, shirtless and powerful and with his jeans wide open at the crotch, the band of his boxers slung under his shaft and balls and not a hint of embarressment or self-consciousness as his erection looks fit to burst, Will turns the scope of his attention towards the remaining people in the room. Of course, that’s Santi and Frankie. “Well?” he asks, surely knowing the answer already. “Enjoying my girl?”

Santi lets out a choked sound which he hopes passes for “yes”, and to his side Frankie expels a throaty chuckle- a noise that Santi always thought was one of the most beautiful in the damn world but which sounds even more gorgeous post-BJ, apparently. “She’s a dream, man.”

She -you… you are a dream, alright.

Will’s eyes sparkle with pride and he slaps Frankie on the upper arm, before turning to Santi. “You okay, Pope? You look wrecked.”

“Yep. M’good.” He is good, and his whole body is still humming pleasantly.

Still, Will steps a little closer to smooth his palm across the stubble on the smaller man’s cheek, before -to Santi’s surprise- dipping to plant a smacker of a kiss to the centre of his forehead. “You beautiful fuckers,” he grins, smiling at the both of them, and then, an aside. “Take care of him, Frankie, while I check on my Princess?”

“Got it.”

Santi should feel offended at the insinuation he needs taking care of, perhaps, but as Frankie’s warm eyes fall on him that thought falls out of his head and he simply staggers backwards, seating himself on the couch with a huge, contented sigh, his legs all nervy and shaking.

Will turns back briefly when he reaches the door, with one final thought. “There’s some water and-“

“-Go. I know how to take care of him,”Frankie insists, almost defensively, and, with a nod, Will takes his cue to leave. Then, Frankie crouches before Santi and smooths a hand on top of his thigh, his voice hitting far different when directed towards him. Somehow fuller. Richer. “I know how to take care of you, huh, pendejo?

“Yeah, Frank,” Santi admits, and he doesn’t know why his chest tightens with emotion in that moment, but it does.

Meanwhile, Frankie reaches over to the cooler by the couch and grabs a chilled bottle of water. “Good. Now drink up. Judging by the size of your load you just lost half your bodily fluids. Christ.”

Santi’s chest shakes with a hearty chuckle. “Was fucking good man. I’m still shaking.”

“Yeah. Yeah, man… and we’re just getting started.” Frankie slaps his hand on to Santi’s thigh, but then it just… lingers there, his touch warm even through the denim.

Santi’s softening cock twitches inside his jeans. It’s not lost on him that Frankie is in the same position you were moments ago. Not lost on him at all.

The two men lock eyes then, and Frankie abruptly clears his throat, surging up from the floor and reaching up to tame his mussed hair. “Stop staring and drink up, pendejo,” Frankie warns, and Santi softens the intensity of his stare.

Still, Frankie’s words echo in his mind, and he can’t help but stare just a little, especially as the man zips his jeans up over his softening length, his trimmed pubes still peeking out above the waistband.

We’re only just getting started.

Half-time

“Hey, beautiful.” Will announces himself before slipping up behind you in the en suite, gently wrapping his arms around you as you gargle mouthwash - getting the residue of cum from out of your mouth before round 2.

After you spit, he settles his hand at the back of your neck, his thumb stroking back and forth. “You okay, baby? Not too rough? Too… anything?”

“No. If anything you’re going easy on me, Captain. Sent me away after two dicks,” you sing-song.

Will chuckles. “It’s not you I’m worried about. Honestly, I think Pope needed a minute. Talk about living up to his call sign - I think you actually made him see God.”

“Hmm. Well I have been told my blow jobs are a religious experience,” you guffaw, spinning in the loop of Will’s arms until you face him, getting to see his bright smile head-on. “Really though, is he doing okay?”

“Mmm, yeah,” Will reassures, a little frown appearing at his brow. “I just wonder… if things take the direction I think they might, are you good if we change the scene up a little?”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Let’s just say, it would involve a different kind of teamwork.”

“Okay,” you nod, and Will is surprised that you don’t ask for more details. “I trust you to keep us safe, baby.”

Will’s eyes glow with more than a little pride at that - a pride which quickly shifts into hunger. “God. Let me kiss that dirty mouth of yours, hmm?” You tip your chin eagerly towards him and he swipes his tongue into your mouth, his hands slipping down to knead the meat of your bare ass beneath this skimpy outfit. “Mmm. Can I feel how wet it got you again? Please?”

“This is merely the staging area, Captain Miller. If you want to sample me you’ll have to wait your turn downstairs.”

He swipes his tongue into your mouth again, the kiss hungrier. “Hmmph. Good thing I like waiting.”

You smile and wriggle playfully out of his grip. He makes it easy - he unhands you immediately - and you finish straightening yourself up in the mirror. “Now… do I still look pretty?”

“Even more delectable.”

“See you in there?”

“Mmm-hmm. Okay, baby.” He dips to steal another quick kiss, his tongue shoving over yours and earning a horny groan from him. “You still taste of cum, you slut.”

“Love you too,” you coo with a teasing, devious smile.

Will winks as he sweeps out. “Damn. I’m a lucky man.”

“You sure are,” you tease. “Now go join the other lucky fuckers downstairs and I’ll be right with you.”

As Will sweeps out and you watch his broad form disappear, with a final glance over his shoulder and a charming yet hungry smile, you feel somehow like you’re the lucky one.

Quarter Three

Santi isn’t ready for it. Well- that’s not quite true. He is ready and willing, but he isn’t prepared. Isn’t prepared for how good it feels. How good it looks.

He watches Frankie pull you into his lap and pop your tits from out of this silly little outfit. He watches the man gather your breasts in his broad palms and mouth at your nipples, while you make these pathetic, delicious little noises which send blood thumping straight to his cock.

He watches you be dragged off of Frankie by Will, big strong Will, as a punishment for your moans - for the way you had begun to grind your heat down on to Frankie’s denim-clad erection to get yourself off. And, it wasn’t lost on Santi that seeing Will hoist you off of the other man -seeing that latent strength in action, for the first time in a long while- was a thing of beauty. Something that made his whole body tingle.

Then, Santi watches you being a little brat about it, until Will begins to call you the kinda names which make you bite your lip and squeeze your thighs together. Names which make you wilt against him even as his hand is clasped around your chin and jaw, dragging you up until you are standing taller. Names he doesn’t mean because the man fucking adores you - that much is obvious.

You trust each other, and it’s a beautiful thing to witness. More than that; you make Will trust himself. If you didn’t, there’d be no way Will would wrap his hand around your throat like this. No way you’d let him. Not after what he’s done.

In awe then, Santi watches. Watches as Will moves and manipulates you so easily. He transports you to the table, bending you over it to reveal your exposed, tight little holes to everyone in the room. Making a show of you -if you can’t be a good toy I’ll get your holes out for everyone to see- Santi and Frankie both instinctively standing and crowding around you, hungry for a better view.

You moan as Will pulls up this flimsy little strip of fabric passing for a skirt, pushing it up past your hips and putting all of you on display for them, the globes of your ass and meat of your thighs, and that perfect glistening slit.

Will grabs your hands and holds them behind your back as you squirm your ass and hips on nothing. “Oh you like this? Little whore wants some cock, is that it? That why you’re acting up? You a thirsty little slut? A fucking attention whore?”

With a grunt, Will snakes his broad hand up your back to pin your torso down on to the surface of the table. With his other arm, his thick fingers skim idly -haphazardly, roughly- over your heat, and they come away glistening with you. Santi is rapt, as, with firm, indiscriminate pressure the man begins spreading your slick around, playing with it, spreading it over your clit and lips and one finger circling your little asshole, making the rim of it gleam, all inviting. He can’t look away as Will slaps your pussy, watching the way you writhe and moan for him so beautifully when he does it.

Santi is so aroused he almost feels light-headed.

“Fuck you’re wet. You’re enjoying this. Being on display, aren’t you? I’m just going to leave you here until we’ve all had a go, hmm? Until your holes are full of our cum.”

Santi is so hard it’s bordering on painful.

Then, without warning, Will spears two fingers inside your heat, all the way to the knuckle and you yelp, a high-pitched noise which bottoms out into a deep, chesty groan, a shiver of pleasure undulating right through your body as his girth drags through your walls and over your g-spot.

“Ready for some cock, alright,” Will confirms. “Shall I show them how to use you?”

“Yes. Yes please,” you beg, voice all throaty and undone.

Fuck this is better than anything Santi’s ever seen - in real life or in porn.

“So needy. Where do you want it?”

“In my pussy. Please.”

Then, just like that, Will’s perfect, pretty length is sunk into you, his hips pistoning back and forth, allowing no time for you to adjust to his size and taking you anyway.

His eyes roll to the sky as he is gripped by your tightness and Santi’s own cock pulses; aching, needing something.

Then, Santi is watching Will flip you on to your back, spreading your legs wide open and getting you to hold them there as he grips your ass in his palms and slams you down on to his length, his arms all bulges and his sculpted abs undulating as he works his hips.

The sounds are something else. The obscene wetness, the slap of balls against skin, the staccato grunts of Will and your cresting moans which give way to fast, abortive moans, your lips dropped open in a silent scream of pleasure.

Then, Will hinges at his hips to bring his chest down towards yours, one arm bracing against the table and the other gripping your jaw.

“You a filthy slut? You love having me balls deep in your cunt while my buddies watch?”

Will knows exactly what he’s doing. Knows that the fresh angle makes his stomach grind down on your clit. Knows how his power gets you off. Knows just what you like. Indeed, you moan a throaty affirmative, and Will clamps his free hand on your jaw until you open up for him, dipping to spit right in your mouth and over your cheek as he continues pumping in and out of you, pleasure ripping through you and maybe just a hint of pain too - only in a way you like, never more than you enjoy.

Fuck.

“Open your eyes and look at them while I fuck you. Look at them, all hard for you. Look who’s gonna be inside you next.”

The juxtaposition between the hardness and softness is something else. Will’s tight body slamming you so hard the whole table rocks, heavy balls slapping, muscles firm and pumped as he holds you in place; and yet the softness too. The lilting curve of his lips against your cheek when he folds to whisper in your ear. The unconscious kiss he plants just behind your earlobe. The way a large portion of his strength is still reined in, because he doesn’t want to hurt you; would really never hurt you in ways you didn’t like.

You start to whine and squirm all of a sudden like you’re close and Will laughs, drawing back to be perpendicular to your body, slapping your clit with a firm hand and making you yelp. “Oh no you don’t,” Wills scolds, and before you can find your release he denies you, pulling out at the last minute and groaning deep and low as he pulses creamy ropes over your stomach, cock twitching as he ekes out every drop to paint you with, watching his load pool and glisten on your belly. He grins down at you as his breaths steady, the man recovering remarkably quickly. Thriving from it. Somehow able to find words when Santi is rendered speechless and he’s only watching.

“Pope, you want a go of our little toy next? Fucked her open but she’ll fit you like a glove.”

Does he? Of course he fucking does; but he’s also fascinated by the planes of Will’s shirtless body. By the way he manipulates you so effortlessly - throws you around and puts you where he wants you - exactly how he wants you. He’s also fascinated by Frankie, his long, thick cock slightly incongruous with his lithe, soft frame. And, he’s fascinated by you. That look on your face as you hold your own legs open, unfulfilled and your pussy fluttering on air, your red-stained lips dropping open and your eyes fluttering shut.

Santi swallows, and he wants to make a move but he doesn’t. Instead, he thinks about how Frankie’s cock might look filling you up, all that size disappearing into you.

“Wanna watch Frank fuck her,” Santi says at the same time he thinks it, immediately nervous that’s he’s said the wrong thing as soon as the words are past his lips - but then Will is saying okay then and holding his damn hand out to Santi and Santi takes it and he feels safe with Will. Big strong Will, who Santi’s never called that in his head ever before today but hell, apparently now he is, and pretty Francisco, his hair curling up about his ears from writhing his head about the couch cushions and his eyes and his stomach all soft but his voice so fucking gruff and hard. And then there’s you. You all over again, and Santi might be a lapsed Catholic but, fuck, you could make him believe in heaven.

Everywhere Santi looks there is something gorgeous; someone gorgeous, and then Will is slapping the subtle curve of Frankie’s ass with a hearty, locker room chuckle as the man lines himself up with your entrance, that thick head notching against your hole. And you.

Oh god, you. Santi knows he’s meant to be mean, but wants to stroke your hair and shush you as Frankie fills you rough and balls deep, you beautiful thing.

“You okay, baby?” Will asks you, breaking the scene for a moment. “You ready for him?”

“Yes, m’good. Please Cat’. Fucking need you.”

Frankie makes a strangled sound in his throat at how desperate you are for him, and Santi finds himself pumping his length in the circle of his hand. He has to. He needs some friction.

“Tease her a little and she’ll beg you, ‘Cat,” Will offers. “It’s fucking beautiful.” Then, the hunk of a man turns his attention towards Santiago, and a heat prickles across the back of his neck, his body standing taller and stiffer - muscle memory firing as though he’s about to get an order. Standing to attention for Will, in so many ways. “You okay, Santiago? Still with us? You need to stop or take 5?” Fuck, there’s something about Will first naming him in that voice which gets his dick gets even harder than he would have thought possible.

Then Will is closer. Slipping his hand around the back of Santi’s neck to better search his eyes, but his touch trails and lingers on him a little longer, calloused pads of fingers smoothing up and into his hairline.

“Yes. Yes, I’m good,” Santi confirms, his voice sunken by need, wet and liquid and no sand left in his throat.

For a split second, Santi imagines his tongue buried in Will’s mouth - imagines the rough friction and rasp of stubble against beard like he could light a match, but then he is suckered in entirely by the sweet sight of you.

You and Frankie.

“Please. Please Frankie, fill me up,” you plead pathetically and he pushes -no, glides- inside your wetness, his hands gripping your hips and a faltered moan falling from his plush lips as he bottoms out.

“Fucking beautiful,” Will praises, looking like the cat that got the cream as he witnesses some other dude spearing his girl wide open. And fuck, it looks like Frankie is stretching you to your limit.

Santi’s cock is aching in his own hand as he watches it - watches Frankie’s dick surging in and out of you, gleaming with your creamy juices. Watches the way his size spreads your lips apart, making them all flushed and glistening as they cushion him. Your little asshole just visible when Frankie pulls out - all tight and puckered and begging for a cock too, he’d guess.

Frankie bottoms out again with a cascading groan - jeez this man is a vocal lover - and then he’s moving, pumping into you, bending his knees and getting the perfect angle to fuck up into you - the perfect angle for him, not for you, even if you do seem to be enjoying it.

“Look at Frankie go,” Will bids him, and Santi’s cheeks flush at the man’s knowledge he is looking; watching.

“She feel good, Frank?” Santi asks with a swipe of his tongue along his lower lip, and Frankie replies in the affirmative, his words barely intelligible; and then, Santi asks you a question. A question which makes his heart throb in his neck when he realises how desperately he wants the answer. “Does Frank’s cock feel good inside you, baby?”

Does it? Does it feel good? It looks like it would feel good.

You spill profuse praises, causing Frankie’s legs to tremble as he fucks you, and then Will is moving, coming up next to your face to shut you up and pressing his dick towards your mouth. “Come here baby. Lick up the mess you made of me.” With an obliging hum you wrap your lips and tongue around the head of him, sucking diligently on him even as Frankie’s cock is pounding you, sending shockwaves rippling through your flesh.

Santi watches as Will reaches to roughly knead your breasts and pinch your nipples, and he sees a shudder course all the way down your body like a wave, your hips adjusting to a new angle around Frankie and making him tip his chin to the sky and breathe quick and ragged to stave off his end.

“Fuck, she likes that. Do that again, William. Feels fucking perfect on my cock.”

You laugh. You laugh musically with Frankie deep in you and Will thumbing your nipples and it’s actually fucking beautiful. This messy, beautiful thing, and your laugh brings Santi back to his body.

To his needy body.

Santi palms himself, focussing on the head of him, just enough pressure to stay rock hard - not that he reckons he’d have any trouble while watching this.

Fuck, Santi thought he’d be more… dominant but he… he just…

He swallows.

He wants Will to tell him what to do. He wants Will to tell him what to do to you. What to do to Frankie… because he wants to do everything and he’s too spoilt for choice to choose and…

Fuck.

He wants…

“Santiago,” you croon, desperately, voice hoarse with need and stretching out the vowel sounds and extending your hand towards him. Your attention on him for a moment, even if you’re getting dicked down by two delicious specimens, Frankie filling you and Will gradually engorging all over again in your mouth until he’s stretching your cheek. And Santi almost turns around and looks behind him when you moan his name because it can’t be him you need, can it? Don’t you have everything you need? “Santi, please,” you beg, and the effects of your wanton plea ripple through each of the men. Frankie fucks you harder, ensuring your eyes meet his again, albeit briefly before they roll back into your head. Will’s face lilts into a crescent smile at how deliciously filthy you are, and Santi…

“My woman needs you, man. Come get involved Santiago,” Will offers with an easy, agenda-free smile. “Sure she can take three. Put it wherever you want. Or, hey. If you’re not gonna get your dick wet just yet, come and torment that little clit of hers and make her clamp down harder on our pal Frankie.”

God - Santi should have gone to Will. He should have gone to Will all those nights he was trying to wank himself off in his army bunk. Should have had the Captain slot in beside him and whisper orders in his ear because it’s the only damn way he can mobilise. Because he needs Will’s cool, calm authority. Always needed it to feel safe.

Needed that but…

…He needs you too. Has needed you. And, Santi tics his gaze over to you, arcing up a thick, suggestive eyebrow - and ever so briefly it’s like you’re sharing a moment just the two of you, even as Frankie’s thrusts shunt you back and forth on the table. Even then, your eyes trail up and down Santi’s body and your tongue darts out along your lips like a silent invitation. And so, Santi comes to stand alongside the table edge, looming over you all splayed out like this. He gets in a position perpendicular to you, where he can just about touch his cock to your lips and reach his hand down towards your mound at the same time too.

Slowly, so slowly and in such juxtaposition to everything that is happening to you, Frankie’s thrusts growing harder and faster and increasingly sloppy, Santi smooths his palm down over your chest, your stomach, and on towards your little hatch of hair, quickly finding that swollen nub and skimming over it with the barest of pressure.

You jolt from it, a shockwave careening through your body and causing your spine to arc away from the table like a bow.

Frankie makes a choked sound then and so do you, but you’re moaning around Will’s engorged dick -your hands on both him and Santi and dipping them alternately into your mouth, sometimes both at once, their cocks frotting up against one another’s - and so that figures. “Holy shit, she likes that, you beautiful motherfucker,” Frankie rasps, voice almost entirely sunken. A delicious bead of sweat shimmying down from his temple which Santi half imagines he’d like to taste. “Just clamped down on me like a fucking vice.”

With a smug smile at making you feel good- making Frankie feel good- Santi builds the pressure. Starts with circles. Then, starts flicking and squeezing and strumming your needy, swollen clit, your moans suffocated around his own dick, but your jerking body and jagged breaths around his shaft a dead giveaway that you like this.

“Give me some more lube down there, Frank,” Santi requests, and his buddy -though increasingly undone- obliges him, puckering his lips and letting a shined glob of spit land on your clit with a soft smack. Well- Frankie always did have good aim.

And then, as Santi works you, you are practically bucking off of the table; however, there are 6 strong hands holding you in position. In position so that you can be filled and pleasured how they like. Your own hands and mouth busy with two dicks and you could stop, if you wanted. Anytime you needed to. You could tap out if you wanted, but you don’t. You like this, and so instead you use your hands to reach for them, to reach for more, to reach for him.

You moan around Will’s cock as he pushes deeper into your throat - deeper and in counter rhythm to Frankie’s thrusts. “So humiliating how much you like being used, Princess,” he coos at you.

Santi is riveted as Will surges out of your mouth, and then your moans are suddenly unfettered; abortive whines and pants and burgeoning waves of sound from deep in your chest. To the other side of him, Frankie’s percussive grunts and groans are the perfect complement to your carnal noises, perfectly in time with the slap of his balls against you, and Will’s still whispering dirty things, dirty words cascading down to you and Santi’s tormenting your clit and all of this- all of this is only taking you higher.

Santi could come again. Could come already, but he’s slipping his fingers further down, further down your lips and folds and he’s hitting the shaft of Frankie’s cock too and it feels warm and ridged and contoured, the feel suggesting veins and weight and he’ll be damned if he comes before he witnesses the two of you reaching your end. And maybe - maybe it’s coincidence but as soon as Santi is touching him too, Frankie seems to be losing it, his rhythm uneven and his grunts increasingly broken and his hands clamping harder on your thighs, leaving indents like claws and half-moon crescents where his short nails dig into your flesh.

Santi is overcome by it. By the need to feel you, to feel you both, so he crooks his forefinger and he reaches down and he finds room against Frankie’s shaft to slip a finger inside you with him, stretching you just a little more, and he finds that you can take it. That you like it. And maybe… maybe it shouldn’t fit- Frankie already an impossible stretch- but everything is drenched. So slippery. Obscene wet noises like ruined fruit. Both of them inside you as he brings his other hand across to massage your clit, his palm pushing down on your lower abdomen, and he can feel it. He can feel it when you clamp down, he can feel when Frankie comes undone and his orgasm zips all the way up from his balls.

Santi’s touching both of you as you are bucking off the table with no chance of going anywhere. As Frankie is spilling his load into you, slamming deeper into you, as deep as he can get, all of his length disappeared inside you all the way down to the groomed tight curls where Frankie’s happy trail meets the base of his dick.

Santi’s not even inside you. Not inside your mouth or pussy but he swears he feels just as good from watching Frankie fill you. By the fact he helped you both come undone.

He and Will both simply watch, both intent on you and Frankie, and a disbelieving, awed sound slips involuntarily past Santi’s lips as Frankie delivers his load, thick and creamy ropes pulsing out of him and filling you. Santi’s fractured moan deepens as he watches Frankie slip out and his cum and your arousal slipping with him, a mess of gleaming, white liquid pulsing from your fucked open hole, and your legs left quivering and jerking as aftershocks tear through you.

It looks fucking delicious.

You look delicious.

Frankie looks delicious, his shaft shined with your juices as he withdraws. He looks delicious as he dips forward, hinging at the hips to shove his tongue hungrily over yours in gratitude, whispering sweet things to you. Shoving over the same tongue that was on Santi’s cock only moments ago - almost as though he’s tasting him.

No, Santi wasn’t prepared for this. For how good it would feel and look.

Santi’s part of this and even then he’s jealous. Doesn’t know who he’d rather be. Him, with the privilege of watching you get fucked and filled up. Frankie, burying his length into your tight hole. Or… you. You, being filled up and used like that and…

…There he is again, untethered from reality like the moments after an explosion, ringing in his ears and blurred sounds and-

“Santiago,” Will says suddenly by his ear, deceptively soft, and Santi turns, grateful for his guiding force. Will slips his hand around the back of Santi’s neck again, gripping him securely. A grounding touch too, and with effort, Santi lifts his dark, lust-blown eyes up to Will’s baby blues, suddenly acutely aware all over again of the aching, straining mass between his legs. Of Will’s size and mass too. His height and muscles and power - not only his strength no, but the quiet, cool authority that has always felt like safety to him. “Santiago,” Will soothes, with the subtle brush of a thumb up and down the column of his neck. “Is there something you need, hmm? Something you… want?”

Santi’s throat bobs around a hard swallow and he averts his gaze from Will, shuffling from foot to foot.

Yes. There is something that he needs. Something, but he can’t…

The words…

He looks to Frankie, brown eyes meeting and Santi’s mouth drops open and closes wordlessly, Frankie’s tongue darting out to whet his pillowy lips and his eyes filled with something Santi can’t name and can’t place.

He looks at you.

He wants so many things but he…

He can’t name them.

So, he looks to Will. He looks to Will because everyone looks to Will when they’re in need, when they’re needy, and Will’s eyes narrow as he contemplates something. A smile twitches at his lips as he lands on a plan of action - always the one with a plan of action.

And so, experimentally, Will smooths his hand over Santi’s hair, making him hum, making him push his curls ever so subtly back into Will’s grip. You do this too - Will knows fine well what it means. “Want me to pull on your hair, Santiago?”

“Uhh. Uh-huh,” Santi admits, voice hollowed-out by need. Heat blooming in his cheeks and flushing his neck and chest. That prickle over his skin again because Will knows. Will knows what he wants. What he needs.

Then, Will obliges. Tugs the ex-soldier’s head back and his chin up and Santi emits a weak, needy sound that could only be described as a whimper.

“Want me to tell you what to do, Santiago?”

Fuck.

Santi’s heart is hammering in his chest and he doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know why but he knows it feels right. He knows he trusts Will. With his life, and with this too.

“Please,” he croaks, and again, Santi immediately worries that he’s said the wrong thing, but only for a moment. Only for a moment because then Will is nodding okay. Will’s nodding okay and then he’s standing up taller, drawing up from Santi. Raising his chin. Asserting his authority. “Always were such a good soldier, Garcia. Should have known you’d like taking orders,” Will drawls, with a satisfied lilt to his deep voice.

“Fucking dickhead,” Santi fires back immediately, and Will tugs harder on his curls.

So help him, he likes that.

“Get on your knees, Santiago, you insubordinate little shit,” Will delivers in a commanding tone, causing a shiver to skitter all along Santi’s spine.

It’s experimental, Santi realises. He doesn’t have to do it, and even now he recognises there is plenty of slack in Will’s tone -in his expression- for challenge. For disobedience. “Get on your knees and lick up Frankie’s cum from the toy.”

Oh yeah. There’s definitely plenty of room for challenge; but Santi doesn’t take an inch of it. Instead, his legs shaking, he positions himself and drops to the floor before you. He settles there like this is second nature. As though he’s ever done this before, naked and hard and kneeling, and his palms settle on his thighs. He settles there, distinctly aware of Frankie and Will stood either side of him. Of you, lying there obediently with Frankie’s cum still pulsing out of you - after he’s used you, made a mess of you.

And Santi looks up - looks to Will, because of course he does. He looks to Will like you do. Waiting for permission. “Taste her then,” Will orders, casually pumping his semi in his hand, quickly swelling again. “Taste Frankie’s load.”

Santi rises up on his knees. He rises up like he’s free. Like everything suddenly makes sense. He cups your ass in his hands and then with a moan and shiver of anticipation from you, suddenly he is sinking his mouth to the mess of you, Santi’s writhing tongue shimmying and thumping and circling against your sensitive clit, sending jerky aftershocks through you.

Next, his tongue is trailing down to your fucked open entrance and he is lapping Frankie’s salt from you. Slurping obscenely and tasting the delicious tang of it flooding over his tongue, his cock so hard it almost hurts; aches. So hard as Will fists his fingers into his crown of curls and drives him more deeply into your heat. As you moan and shiver under his mouth. As Frankie practically gasps at how much Santi is enjoying tasting him.

“Holy shit,” Frankie keens, a cracked-open noise like a revving engine struggling to start - a telltale tremor in it.

“Good, Santiago,” Will praises experimentally, and in response Santi moans into your heat as the words makes his cock throb. “Clean her up. That’s our good boy.”

God, his dick. So hard. So desperate for any friction. Aching.

“Mm-hmm.”

And Santi’s thinking about everything. About what he might do next. About how he could fuck you. About how he could fuck into you and have Frankie’s release coating his dick. Your juices all over him making him slick. About how he could fuck Frankie out of you. How he could claim you for his own. How he could be claimed himself if only-

-His cock aches.

He needs to touch himself -needs some relief- and he reaches down, fingers finding his velvety shaft.

“Fuck,” Frankie revs, voice levelled with need. “You look so pretty on your knees, Santiago,” he praises, and Santi almost spills over his own knuckles right then and there before he’s even really touched himself.

But he doesn’t. He doesn’t because he’s waiting for something.

Waiting for…

Will commands him to get up. His legs feel like jelly but he just about manages it. He orders him to fold your legs back towards your chest. Tells him to fill you up like Frankie had. That the toy needs to be all used up.

Santi does as he’s told. He doesn’t need much convincing to slip into your inviting tightness anyway, does he? And, god, he’s only just slipped inside -just the tip- and it already feels so good. So good that he’s breathing in long gusts of exertion, trying to stave off his end and barely able to move because he’d nut before he’s even really fucked you. The way you grip him so tightly and the way it feels when the head of him nudges just right against your walls is something else. The warm grip of you on his shaft and the sight of Frankie’s cum being scooped out of you with every shallow thrust impossibly hot.

Santi’s whole body shudders, and then his eyes are rolling back in his head and suddenly Will’s directing. Will’s directing because it needs to be harder - not these pussy ass thrusts - and he needs to ruin you, and then Frankie is there. Frankie is warm, his chest at Santi’s back and his hands clamping around the man’s hips to fuck him harder into you - to guide the pace and depth.

Then Santi is moving. He’s moving because Frankie is fucking him into you and Will’s egging him on and you’re quaking around him, Frankie’s hardness an increasingly insistent pressure at the small of Santi’s back. Those big hands clamped on his hips and ass, that push and pull controlling his pace and thrusts, making each one longer and deeper than the last, and Santi can sense his balls drawing up, getting so tight, and his whole body getting ready to spill into you. It feels so fucking good.

“Looks like we have two toys, huh?” Will purrs. “You want that, Santiago? Wanna be a good toy for me and Frankie?”

He does. Yes.

Fuck, he wants that.

“Y-Yes. Yes,” and his own voice is barely recognisable, buried under layers of need, his hips stuttering and jerking and his legs nervy and he thinks he could fall over. Thinks he would fall if Frankie wasn’t sturdy at his back and so he leans into him. Leans into him more and all of a sudden Frankie’s gruff noises are fanning over his neck, over the shell of his ear. All of a sudden Santi is turning his head to the side and then he’s merely an inch away from Frankie’s lips, only the ghost of a moment between them.

Fuck.

The ghost of a moment, and with it Frankie loses control of the pace, the interruption to the rhythm and the slightly changed angle and how fucking wet you are causing Santi’s dick to momentarily slip out from you.

For a moment, you and Santi are joined in a crescendo of desperate moans in protest at the sudden lack of sensation - no, no, no- more more more, don’t stop- and Santi thinks about reaching down to guide himself back inside the warm embrace of you but he’s holding your legs, taking the weight of your hips as he suspends your lower half off the table, so instead, before either of them think about it, Frankie’s hand is reaching down.

Fuuuuck.

Frankie’s hand is reaching down and winding around Santi’s sensitive shaft, and he would moan at the feel of his buddy’s girthy fingers on his dick but the sounds are dying in his throat. Dying in his throat and fuck he’s close. He’s close, and as soon as Frankie’s hand is sliding down his lubed shaft and the head of him is engulfed by your plumped lips and wet heat all over again? He’s losing it.

“Come for me,” Will says firmly, and he thinks this time, that he really is talking to him too. Talking to both of you.

This.

This is what Santi has been waiting for. For Will’s permission and Frankie’s touch and you. Always waiting for you and he’s there. Fully present in his body and caught between you and Frankie, his orgasm ripping through him as a single word from Frankie falls over the shell of his ear. A gruff wrecked voice, deceptively soft: “Cariño,” and this time Santi thinks Frankie really could be talking to him too.

With that -with all of this- Santi is spilling himself and you’re clamping down around him too, wringing him dry and convulsing on him, hard, and Will is holding your head and shushing and stroking and praising you.

Santi is emitting ragged sounds from deep in his chest as you drain him dry, Frankie’s hand still squeezing the base of him, and all of a sudden he is releasing everything. His load, this weight from his chest, these sounds - almost like sobs but of pleasure. Sounds muffled only by Frankie’s tongue shoving over his, finally, pushing past the seam of his lips as Santi turns his head once more and the two men lock lips, the kiss hungry and tentative and unexpected and yet somehow entirely inevitable all at once.

The kiss eventually crests and breaks, just like Santi’s orgasm. The come down happens, yours and his, and for a moment the room is held in a cocoon of jagged breaths and breath taken away; pleasant hums and hands smoothing and lips meeting, soft wet sounds and hushed tones, and the soft slip of Santi surging out of you and his come and Frankie’s slipping with him.

Then, there are hands on him too. Careful hands. Reassuring hands. Familiar ones.

Will’s hand winding around the back of his neck again, into his buzzed hair, except this time his other hand is slipped around his waist too, gently pawing there. “You good, Santiago?”

“Yes. Good. Fucking. Soul left dick. Need a minute.” Will nods and slaps his cheek playfully and then they’re all back to you. Back to you and Will is massaging your thighs and you’re giggling disbelievingly and it’s beautiful.

You’re beautiful.

You made him feel so good.

And… Santi is fine.

He is.

He’s fine.

But even so he rasps a hand over his stubble and can’t help but notice there is an elephant in the room.

The elephant in the room is that he can no longer look Frankie in the eye.

He can’t; because then, he might give it away.

Might give away that he’s satisfied. That he couldn’t be more satisfied… yet at the same time?

There’s still something else he wants.

“Let’s take 5, yeah?” Frankie pipes up, sounding shy, sounding distant, and Will agrees, helping you off of the table and rubbing your legs until the blood comes back to them and you’re reaching for him and kissing him and he’s accepting, enjoying the gentle slip of your tongue against his, letting him know you still belong to him.

And, looking for his own embrace, Santi turns. He turns to search for Frankie, but he’s already quietly slipped out.

Already gone.

Gone, and it leaves a longing.

Yes, Santi knows there’s something else he wants, and he doesn’t know if he can find the words.

After all, it’s been this long -has been years- and he has never quite been able to say it.

Timeout / Huddle: amend the play

You all get cleaned up, get some snacks and water, and gather in the master bedroom for a much-needed change of scene.

The air is still heavy and thick with tension, hard swallows down throats and eyes glancing off of bodies and hands skimming skin, leaving searing, liquid trails of heat in their wake.

The pace is slower. More gentle, sensual. A different scene. A different feel.

But still, it’s clear this is not over. That there is more pent-up desire to be fulfilled.

You’re still nude under your silk robe, and shirts and pants have been hastily thrown on by the boys for this conversation, but no-one has made any move to end this.

Everyone still wants. Still needs. That much is apparent. Everyone is satisfied in some kind of way but still needing something more; and the group of you are never ones to leave a mission incomplete. You always get the job done.

Even so, it’s also clear that something has shifted. Maybe for all of you since the scene was planned - sketched out. Something is… different.

You’d talked at length about how the parameters might shift, of course. About what could happen in the moment, theoretically. About different feelings and desires and dynamics that might arise. Complex ones. Unexpected ones. Difficult ones. Pleasurable ones.

But this is far more than theoretical.

You think you all know it. Think you all have a pretty good idea; but it can’t come from you.

It has to come from him, and so this time, all eyes fall on Santi.

“Is there… something else you want to try, Santiago?” you probe, as gently as possible, all too aware -from personal experience- of this guy’s tendency to bolt when things get heavier than expected. More… emotional. More invested.

“Why are you all looking at me?” he asks, sweat gathering at his temples as though he’s literally burning under a spotlight, his heavy brows drawn down over his hooded umber eyes.

“We just want to make you feel good,” you purr. “But you have to tell us what you want first, honey.”

You look at him levelly. Letting him know: It’s okay. You’re safe. I promise.

Santi’s lack of protest is a subtle acquiescence in itself - you know him well enough to know that- but you’re going to need a hell of a lot more to go on than that if a single thing can happen. “So, what do you want?”

His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “I-“ his eyes glance off of Frankie, and it’s a subtle tic but it’s a glaring admission all at once.

You don’t want to push him - to push this- but it feels so close. So close, and so you think you can give this one more try. You sigh gently and you slip a palm up to Santi’s face, the texture of his stubble rough and warm under you, and his eyes flutter closed as he leans gratefully into your touch, a weight settling on his brow all the same.

He doesn’t give in - he’s stubborn- and so you go with a hunch. “Do you want to be filled up too, Santi? Like I was?”

Santi’s eyes blink open - widening, a flush creeping all the way down his neck, his tan skin flushed with an undertone of crimson.

He looks to Will. Looks to Will like he’s said the wrong thing even though he hasn’t said a thing at all, but Will leaves plenty of room.

Leaves this wide open.

Makes him feel safe.

Still, when Santi remains silent, you look at Will helplessly. Maybe things are done for today. It’s okay if things end here. After all, there can’t be any pressure. “We don’t have to keep going - it might be best if we leave things here and-“

“-No,” Santi protests, his voice weak and yet his assertion forceful. A plea.

You note that Frankie whips his gaze back up from the spot on the duvet he’s been intent on for 10 minutes in that moment, seemingly holding his breath as he waits for Santi to reveal his desires. You swear you can see his heartbeat pulsing -raging- through his corded neck when you look closely enough.

“No?” you prompt, doing your best to stifle a smile. To play this off as casually as possible.

“I. Want That. What you said,” Santi admits, his voice shot through with rare nerves.

You imagine you hear Frankie gulp next to you, but Santi’s looking down at his hands - now clasped firmly in yours. “I. Fuck. I think I want to try that.”

You nod encouragingly. He’s safe with you. You promise. “Okay.”

Will says something next, perhaps going on a hunch too. “Want Frank to fill you up?” It’s experimental. The words slack. Leaving plenty of room. Plenty of room, and Santi doesn’t take an inch of it.

Santi and Frankie’s eyes lock for a moment and you bite your lip, holding your breath as you wait to see how this is going to go down, the air suddenly as close and as suffocating as molasses.

You keep your voice gentle. “That okay with you, Frankie?”

Frankie clears his throat shyly, but the huge tent he’s pitching in his pants right now -as well as the deepened colour of his cheeks- is a dead giveaway. “Yep.”

You could swear Santi releases a held breath when Frankie confirms.

Okay. Good. You’re halfway there. “Santiago?” you probe gently.

“Yeah. Yes. Please.”

You exchange a glance with Will and he gives you a gentle nod. “Do you two want me and Will to stay or-?”

Santi and Frankie both reach for you immediately and in tandem, as though to pin you down before you can disappear, and each of their heavy-lidded, needy expressions sends a thrum of heat and happiness crawling under your skin. Your lips quirk up into a smile, and Santi’s still reaching for you, looking between your eyes and lips and moving close enough that he is almost straddling your lap.

God, he’s pretty when he’s all needy like this.

You read his intentions. “Wanna kiss me, Santiago?”

“Yes please, hermosa.”

Wow. If he’s going to keep asking so nicely you won’t be complaining. You kinda like it, in fact. You’ve never seen him so polite.

“Kiss each other then,” Will suggests to the both of you. “Put on a show for us. Get me and Frankie hard so we can fuck you in your tight little assholes.”

Well…

Now there’s an inspired idea you can all agree on.

Always the man with a plan, your boyfriend.

No wonder he rose through the ranks really, is it?

Quarter Four

Santi surges towards you and you meet him, both of you raised up on your knees on the bed as your lips gravitate towards one another’s. And then, he’s devouring you. Kissing you deeply and hungrily, the movement of his jaw scraping his stubble over your cheek and -no doubt- leaving you raw.

He wants you. He wants you here. He wants you to be part of this. He wants all of this at once. He wants, and it feels like too much but it also feels like everything he ever wanted.

“Can I get you ready for Frankie?” you ask wantonly, your voice husk and syrup, and Santi takes more than a moment to catch your drift.

Oh. Oh.

Well, Frankie’s big. He probably shouldn’t deny a little assistance.

“Yeah,” Will purrs. “Come here, baby. Lick his asshole. Get him ready for Francisco.”

A moan shudders out of Santi even at the thought of you rimming him - of that pretty pink tongue lapping at him, and he could almost come apart if it wasn’t for Will. Will directing him to get on all fours on the bed. To position himself face down ass up. To spread his cheeks open for you.

Fuck.

Is this how you had felt earlier, Santi wonders, your holes all exposed and on display?

It feels… good.

You don’t waste any time in heeding Will’s command, and Santi swears he’s having an out of body experience as he feels the mattress dip to his rear with the weight of you, as he feels your breath against his entrance and your hands gripping the globes of his ass, all three of you making sounds of appreciation at the sight before you.

And then… Jeez.

The feel of your tongue is something else. First, you gently bend his hardened shaft back so that you can lick along the underside of him, your tongue then shivering up to his balls - which you suckle into your mouth for good measure, releasing them with a gentle pop. Then, from his balls your tongue dances over his perineum and finally, you circle around his puckered rim, around the sensitive flesh at his tight ring of muscle, and his moans are muffled right into the bed as he buries his head.

“Fuuuccck,” he praises, and you giggle smugly against him even as you continue your ministrations, your tongue swiping and probing and then gradually pushing inside, dipping into him and making his whole body tremble.

He moans again. Moans as your thumb circles the wetness of him and teases him there until he is eagerly pushing back on you, wanting you to ease in. You do - you push your thumb deeper inside, finding his prostate and pressing down, gently at first and then harder, stroking over it and almost making him shoot his load right then and there. Especially as he hears Frankie moan from somewhere behind him.

“Have you had something inside of you before?” Will asks.

“Yes.”

“You can take him?”

“Nothing as big as Frank. But I think so.”

“We’ll take it slow, cariño,” Frankie reassures, and Santi doesn’t think the man has ever sounded hotter - in control and assured and somehow deeply soft too, a well of caring and emotion brimming under his straightforward tone.

Frankie has got you. Whether you’re bleeding out on a jungle floor or about to be fucked in the ass by the man - he won’t let you down.

And fuck. What you’re doing feels good. Impossibly good, and from behind him Santi hears you mewl, your breath fanning against his ass as though you are being taken care of too. He’s not sure who might be warming you up or how but he can’t say he minds either image.

“I know you can take it, baby. You can take me all day long. That ass is mine, huh?” Will says with a swift smack to your ass, causing you to jerk and your thumb to slip slightly deeper inside Santi.

Oh, fuck.

He has to fight not to nut right now, but he wants to save his load. He wants to save it so he can make Frankie feel good. Judging from the sounds to his rear, Frankie is already enjoying this, and so -of course he does- Santi plays it up a little, feeling slightly smug, enjoying the attention, writhing his ass and increasing the volume of his wracked moans.

Santi is so very conscious he’s being watched. The two men behind him watching you open him up, Frankie emitting a beautiful groan as you replace your thumb with two fingers and Santi accommodates you with ease, and then he doesn’t even need to play it up. In fact, he’s having to reign it back in and he’s squirming and backing-up so you fill him deeper and swallowing down his moans and-

“There you go. There you go, Santiago,” Will praises, and Santi doesn’t think he’s ever felt such a sense of pride in his life as when Will praises him. “Francisco, have him suck on you and get you all wet.”

Frankie does just that, needing little to no encouragement to shift to the head of the bed and kneel before the other man, bringing his dick to Santi’s lips as you continue to deliciously pulse your fingers in and out of his tightness. “You want to? Want to open up for me?”

Santi responds by sinking his mouth eagerly on to Frankie’s length. It’s a new sensation- he hasn’t sucked a dick before- but he immediately loves how full he feels. Loves the weight of Frankie over his tongue and the taste of skin and salt. Loves the textures of him.

Pretty Francisco.

Pretty Francisco and his big pretty delicious cock.

Frankie seems to enjoy it too -Santi’s mouth on him- as before long he’s pulling out, insisting he’ll bust a nut if he stays in there too long, shuddering with need.

Will talks over at him. “I get a feeling our sweet Santiago likes to be told he’s a good boy. Think you can you be nice to him, Francisco?”

“Yeah. I can be nice to him,” Frankie chuckles. “That okay with you, pendejo?”

“Yeah, starting when, asshole?” Santi jokes, even as his voice tremors with need, and then he is being moved by strong pairs of hands - moved into position on his back as Frankie scolds him - “careful, or I might stop being so nice,” - and then all of a sudden, both unexpected and inevitable, it is happening.

Frankie’s hard shaft is inching inside of his eased open hole, stretching him out and filling him up until somehow, the dull burn is giving way to searing pleasure, and Frankie is buried all the way.

Next to Santi, Will has you on all fours as he fucks into your ass, slamming you hard and fast and burying that perfect dick in you just like you need him to, your hand winding in between your thighs and punishing your clit in time with his thrusts.

Will goes to town on you, because he knows you can take it, knows what you like, what you need, and meanwhile, Frankie - his sweet Frankie- is far more gentle. More gentle until Santi adjusts to his girth. Allowing him to set the pace and dictate the angle, his knees held up towards his chest as he holds himself open.

“Feel good?” Frankie enquires, a subtle concern etched into his handsome features, even as he hums with the feeling of Santi gripping his dick so tightly in his ass, his pink tongue darting out to skim over his lips.

Feel good? Good? That’s a fucking understatement, even before Frankie is really even moving. And, in response to what seems like an absurd question in the moment, it is all Santi can do to let out a choked, disbelieving laugh.

“Use your words,” Frankie scolds, his voice deep and delicious, and that command causes Santi to raise his arms and grab the pillows above his head for dear life, as though they might give him any purchase against the man’s deepening thrusts.

“Yeah. Feels good, Frank. Feels amazing.”

“Yeah?” Frankie says, the pace and force of his thrusts increasing as soon as he’s sure Santi’s enjoying this. The concern dropping from his features. His palms pressing down on the man’s thighs to keep them crushed up towards his chest, and Frankie sinking a little weight into his arms so he can deepen the angle of penetration too.

It’s good. It’s more than good; it’s divine.

And yet, Santi has seen Frankie fuck. With his own two eyes. Has seen Frankie fuck you. Hard. And he knows he’s still holding back.

Santi nods towards you, where you are getting railed into oblivion, tits bouncing and being gradually shunted up the bed by the sheer force of it, Will continually having to drag you back down on to his cock. “Francisco,” Santi pleads, almost bashfully. “I… I… want it like that. Please.”

“Like that how? All fours?”

“No. Just… harder. Fuck me harder, Frank.”

Frankie picks up the pace a little, testing the waters, sending a white hot, blooming pleasure shooting through Santi’s core. Still, he’s the one in charge here and he’s not about to let Santi forget it that easily. “You’re actually telling me how to fuck you? Curses under his breath. “I know you didn’t just try to top from the bottom, you little brat.” There is a warning in Frankie’s voice, but there is that undercurrent of humour too - an ease developed through years of back and forth between the two men - his endlessly familiar tone cut with a harsh, playful edge that Santi enjoys.

“Sounds like a fucking challenge,” Santi sasses back, and that was both his biggest mistake and his greatest idea, because with that, Frankie slams into him with far greater force, fucking him until he’s almost seeing stars.

“Uh- uh - fuuuucckkk.”

“You’re lucky you look pretty getting fucked by me, Santiago,” Frankie chides, but there’s so much warmth there too.

So much warmth and Frankie’s hard and soft and oh so familiar and entirely new and despite himself, even as he’s being drilled Santi can’t help but laugh. Can’t help but laugh because it’s unexpected, because it’s wonderful; but then Frankie is fucking him harder, and Santi’s laugh digresses to a moan and he’s keening for him, his hands raised above and behind him, searching for something to hold on to, and he figures he must look some kind of way getting fucked like this - being opened up so deliciously by Frankie - because you’re looking at him. Looking at him like you are rapt, captivated, even though Will -big strong Will- is buried deep in your ass. You’re looking at him, your eyes trailing from his flexed arms down his chest and flared ribs and soft stomach where his gleaming cock rests, nestled like a treasure between his thighs, knees curled back almost to his chest and Frankie’s soft stomach slapping up against his balls and sending jolts of pleasure slamming through him as he drives harder, faster, deeper.

Santi feels… boneless. He feels… liquid.

He feels something wet and liquid on his stomach and he realises his cock is weeping creamy fluid, Frankie fucking milking him, making him slick and God. God it feels good and it’s too much and it’s everything, but then Santi is reaching out for something -something else- and it’s you. Your hands clasping together in the space between you and holding on for dear life as you each get filled all the way up.

You lock eyes with Santi and hum approvingly at the sight of him, until Will is scolding you -I know he’s pretty baby but you focus on me when I’m fucking you, understand?. Scolding you but there’s no menace in it - you’re both smiling, that is, until Will is baring his teeth in a snarl at how good you’re making him feel.

And then, Will succeeds in reclaiming your attention by ramming you harder, and your eyes are rolling back in your head and Will is thumbing your clit and now you look like you’re almost seeing stars too.

All over again, everywhere Santi looks there is something beautiful; someone beautiful, all of them creating something beautiful, together, and Santi is smiling and he never knew that sex could feel like this. Never knew it could feel so fucking hot -hot like fire- and yet so joyful too.

So joyful and Frankie is fucking gorgeous like this, his hawkish face intense and handsome as he bears down on Santi, concentrating on not coming undone, breaths gusting from the circle of his plush lips and his thick length hitting Santi just right, and Santi idly thinks it’s apt that the pilot should have an aerial view.

Then, Santi vaguely hears Will ask you a question to the side of him. Something about whose dick you want to come on, but then he’s growling and gathering you up in his arms and raising your torso off the bed, his chest at your back as he snaps his hips forward and up as he buries his seed deep in your ass, and it gives Santi ideas.

“Harder,” he pleads at Frank with a flutter of his pretty eyelashes, and this time, oh thank God, this time, Frankie gets the memo.

This time, Santi’s got his knees up to his chest and Frankie’s hands are gripping his ample hips and Santi looks down. Looks down at Frankie disappeared into him. Looks up at the man’s smooth chest and broad shoulders. Looks down at himself, and he doesn’t usually like his stomach since he retired from the service but it looks good like this; good for Frankie, soft for Frankie, and he’s being railed and shunted further up and up the bed and he feels good. He feels so good with this white hot pleasure sparking in his core with every thrust, with the slight friction of his own length against his stomach as he’s filled. He feels so good that he is the one making Frankie emit such pretty, sexy as hell noises; making him feel good too.

Frankie’s filling him and it’s everything, and it’s enough, and it’s more, but suddenly Santi understands how you had felt earlier when you had called out for him, even as you had everything you needed.

He understands and he calls out for you now too. Calls out for you as Frankie fills him and he climbs ever closer to his peak. Closer and he’s filling him up and you’re watching him and Santi reaches out and it’s as though you know exactly what he needs. As if you know what he needs and you smooth your hand over his curls, over the stubble at his cheek. “Okay, baby boy. Okay. You’re okay,” you soothe, and his eyes roll back in his head with this divine contrast of soft and hard, being pounded and soothed, praised and used, and then he’s looking at Will all over again. Looking at Will because of course he is. Looking at Will because he wants permission. “One more orgasm. Give us one more baby boy.”

And then, just like that, everything is shifting. Suddenly you’re all talking and agreeing and moving and he is agreeing and pleading. Pleading that you straddle him and put his dick inside you. That you ride him while Frankie fucks his ass, and then, all of a sudden it’s happening.

It’s happening, and Santi’s being rocked between the motion of the two of you, both filled and filling, and it’s like the tide, one pleasure reversing and replaced immediately by the other, in and out, and it’s so good that he can’t take it. So good that the pleasure feels like it’s about to burst out of him everywhere.

So good he’s shaking, tipping his head back and moaning more deeply than he’s ever heard himself moan, and he sounds pathetic, desperate, wonderful, and then Will’s drawing Santi’s head into his lap and stroking his hair - telling him how well he’s doing. How well he’s doing letting you ride his dick, your hips undulating skilfully on him and your walls dragging over his contours. For having Frankie moving inside of him, so thick and stretching him open and him taking it so well, so deep.

“Feel good, baby boy?” you ask him, fully prepared to stop if he can’t handle the stimulation, if it’s overwhelming, and Santi could swear it is too much. That it is too good, and yet his hands somehow clamp down on your hips to keep him buried inside you and he’s begging. Begging all three of you, don’t stop. Don’t stop. Please.

Santi’s here, caught in a web of pleasure, and his enjoyment seems to build you all up too. Seems to drive you all further toward that peak together, and for a minute, with you all around him and inside him and above him he feels like he’s at the centre of the goddamn universe.

He doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve this. Any of this. To deserve the sight of you as you surge up, arms reaching behind you and head twisting so Frankie can kiss you, full and deep. What he’s done to deserve your lips on his next as you fold forwards, hinging at the hips and shoving your tongue over his. What he’s done to deserve Will’s praises and the dirty affirmations which cascade over the both of you.

“Yeah - you belong to me, don’t you, even with this other dick in you?” Will rumbles in his deepest, darkest voice - and Santi screws his eyes shut and imagines for a moment he’s talking to him. Imagines he’s talking to him, and then, quite plainly, he is. He really is. “You too, little one. I’m letting them fuck you. You’re mine too. You belong to me, you got that, Santiago? Mine to take care of.”

Santi can’t describe it. Can’t describe the elation he feels with Will’s words in his ear, and his fingers raking in his curls. Your tongue in his mouth and your pussy wrapped around his length. Frankie’s dick buried in him and his hands clamping down around his hips. All of you taking care of him.

He feels like he belongs.

He belongs to Will. He belongs to you. He belongs to Frankie. And he feels - he wishes, he hopes- that you’re each saying it to him now, in your own ways. Saying everything that he’s ever wanted.

He belongs. He belongs. He belongs.

To you, and you, and you.

“You okay, baby boy?” You purr right next to his ear.

Then, Frankie’s voice sounds from above him too. “We’ve got you. Come for us. That’s it. Come on. That’s it, baby.”

Santi screws his eyes shut again and focusses fully on the feelings and sensations. The sounds. The sights are almost too much.

He feels your laboured, quickened breaths fanning over him as your bury your head in the crook of his neck. “Fuck, I’m gonna… Frankie, you close too?” Frankie grunts yes, he is. “Come with Frankie, Santiago,” you plead, directly into the shell of his ear. “Come with me.”

Fuck. He’d go anywhere with you.

“Come on,” Frankie encourages, fucking him more roughly as his seed pulses deep into his ass.

And, between you all, you are hard and soft and Santi’s spilling and Frankie is too, all warm and thick deep inside him, and Will is awed, watching like he is witnessing some divine confluence. Santi feels it too. Feels the divine here. He feels the God that he always missed whenever he was dragged to Sunday service. He feels like this is something so perfect it shouldn’t be possible.

It’s like belonging.

It’s like being loved. If that’s not sacred, what in the hell is?

“Holy fucking shit,” Frankie growls as he comes, and his noises merge with your more incoherent, throaty moans -louder than he’s ever heard you come- and yet Santi is silent. Silent as though in prayer -at least, the way the Catholics do it- head thrown back in a noiseless cry, little cracked sounds and fissures all that escapes his throat as a full body orgasm tears through him.

He clamps down and squeezes Frankie dry. He almost bucks you off of him, throwing you forward until your arms have to steady yourself with your arms at either side of his head as pleasure blows through him like an explosion. Like a Big Bang.

Then after, it is calm.

Santi is levelled.

Santi has this ringing in his ears and this blurred vision and everything seems unreal. Seems unreal until touches and voices start to ground him again. Until the weight of bodies and palms settles him back down to Earth.

There is softness and shushing and stroking and he’s lying on the bed and he’s being taken care of. Being taken care of by his squad who have his six, whether he’s bleeding out on the jungle floor or coming down from the best orgasm of his life. Soft touches and soft words abound, and only now, in this moment, does Santi realise his cheeks are wet with tears - getting wetter- and even so, despite this emotion, despite how much he hates feeling vulnerable, you’re collapsed on top of him, boxing him in with your arms and legs, and he’s never felt more safe in his goddamn life.

You come down to Earth first. You always were the anchor or the group. Holding everything in place. You kiss him, and his lips are trembling as they meet yours and he can taste the salt of his own tears on your tongue.

Then, there’s Will. The leader. The Captain. The one who always knows what to do. Who knows right now. “Taking my girl for a second, Frank, will you look after this one?”

Then, that just leaves Frankie. His Frankie. The heart of the group. His joy. “You okay, Santiago, you kinky mother fucker?” And Santi can’t help but laugh. Can’t help but laugh that yes. Yes he is okay -more than okay- even as he has tears streaming helplessly down his cheeks.

“Kiss him better, Princess,” Will says softly, and Santi finally opens his eyes, seeing Will carrying you, your legs wrapped around his waist, arms slung around his neck, and he dips you down so that you can reach Santi, swiping your tongue tenderly along his lips until he grants you access.

“You too, Frank,” Will commands, and then Frankie obliges, lying -half-collapsing, in all honesty- on his side on the bed. Then, he is bringing Santi’s face towards his with a tender palm on his cheek, and slanting his mouth ever so softly against his, his moustache tickling against Santi’s upper lip.

And, finally, when you and Will leave the pair of them, momentarily, to get cleaned up, Frankie becomes big spoon, curling around Santi’s form and whispering something into the man’s ear. Whispering something that makes Santi look entirely blissed out.

“I’ll take care of you, pendejo.”

Overtime

“There’s gotta be a joke somewhere here?” Frankie insists. “What do you call you two subs sitting in a bathtub?”

“Oh, ha ha,” Santi says, tone thick with sarcasm, merely causing the other man’s eyes to crinkle in amusement.

“I’ve got it,” he comes back, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “What’s the difference between you two and the USS Seawolf?” Santi emphatically rolls his eyes, and Frankie takes that as a clear invitation to deliver his punchline. “Nothing. You’re both subs and filled with semen.”

Okay, it wasn’t that funny, but it has tickled Frankie, and neither of you can resist that man’s infectious, throaty chuckle - despite best efforts, in Santi’s case.

Well, Frankie isn’t entirely wrong, is he? You had certainly been more than filled up. Your core hums pleasantly with the memory of it.

Then, after the fact, Will had lifted you away. Had stolen a moment alone with his love, to properly check in with you. To kiss you slow and deep and hold you close. To praise and fuss over you.

He’d also figured that Santi might do well if he wasn’t being crowded - that leaving Frankie to take care of him would be the best call. That Frankie would want that too; he went on a hunch. And, since then, everyone had been cleaned up and checked-in with and -to Will’s insistence- had rehydrated. Any immediate physical needs had been addressed, and emotional ones too, as far as possible.

There were soft kisses and hugs and caresses, sweet words of praise, and some good-natured words of teasing too, the moment Santi was ready to assert himself again.

Then, all that was left to do was to bask in the afterglow. That, and Will had run the two of you a bubble bath while he and Frankie had disappeared to shower in the en suite.

Now, you and Santi are sat at either end of the claw-foot tub luxuriating, legs overlapping and folding around one another.

Frankie is seemingly sticking with the two of you for just a little bit longer as well, his forearms resting on the bath edge and his chin on top of that, his eyes closing and a satisfied hum escaping him as you fondly card you fingers through his messed-up mop of hair, putting his ‘do back into place even as you know it will look tidy for all of 5 minutes.

Feeling a rush of affection for the man, you dip forward to kiss him on the cheek, and then you run your index finger down from his brow, tracing the profile of his hawkish nose, the line of his moustache, over his lips and shapely chin, and you can’t help the smile that curls your lips as you appreciate him.

“He’s kinda pretty, right?” Santi says, tone imbued with fondness too, and just a gentle teasing edge.

Frankie hums again, and then his eyes slowly peel open, creasing at the corners as he looks at Santi. “And you get uglier everyday.”

The challenge in Santi’s eyes is kind of delicious, and if you weren’t so spent it might even get you horny again. Still, you have other things on your mind for right now. “Why don’t you go nap, Cat’?” the man is obviously tired, stifling yawn after yawn - and yet, refusing to relinquish his post. “Sure Will’ll tuck you in, sweetie.”

Frankie looks apprehensively between the two of you.

“We’ve got everything we need. Really.” You pump your eyebrows, hoping that somehow you convey: I’ll take care of Santiago.

And so, confirming that you’re sure one more time, Frankie finally concedes, leaving you and Santi alone in the bath.

Santi looks at you, coming back to his cheeky old self -clearly, as his eyebrow ticks up suggestively- but there’s no real intention behind it. You can tell he’s wiped-out too.

“Sometimes I think this is actually the best bit,” you share, as though this is some insider bit of intelligence Santi might covet. “You can drag the aftercare out for days with Will, he’s a soft touch.” You toss the man a wink.

Despite your light-hearted tone, Santi’s eyes mist over then. You’re not a mind reader, so you can’t quite place it, but if you had to guess you’d say there was a look of regret there. Santi gets that look in his eyes on occasion, when you talk about Will -when you’re happy about Will- and so you’re not overly concerned. It registers like an old ghost, and, as usual, it is covered over in a matter of moments. Buried all over again.

“Did you have fun?” Santi asks you instead.

Wow. Did you have fun? Well, you can’t help the grin which splits your face then. “Couldn’t you tell I was having a good time? I thought you were intelligence.”

“I had some clue,” Santi grins, a lazy, charming smile which disarms you a little, in spite of yourself. He’s good at those. Good at making you feel beautiful, his dark eyes glinting at you.

“What about you?”

Something indiscernible passes over his eyes again. “Yeah. Yeah I did,” and he rasps his hand over his stubble, leaving a trail of bath bubbles in the wake of his hand which fizzle on his skin. There’s something more there too, though. You can feel him wrestle with it. That’s usual. Standard Garcia, but you’re surprised that this time, some words actually find their way out. “You know,” Santi says, a sudden seriousness burdening his brow, and you can’t help but tense up a little. “I always regretted fucking up with you.”

You draw your knees up to your chest, hugging them close, feeling like you’re wandering into dangerous territory; quickly erecting a perimeter around your heart. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” Santi breathes out. Seems to release something on the exhale. “But now… I’m glad I fucked up. Because what you and Will have… You’re incredible. I see how happy he makes you, and… you deserve that. I… I never could’ve…”

Your eyes mist up, mirroring his, and you have to bite back a swell of emotion which surges in your chest. For a moment you can’t speak. You can only reach for one of his wet hands and clasp it in yours, interrupting the flow of his words and dragging his deep brown eyes up to yours. “Santi. You could have. For whatever it’s worth now? You could have.”

Santi smiles thinly. Nods. And you’re not sure whether your revelation is a sad one or a happy one, but regardless, he draws you to him with a hand around the back of your neck, dipping to plant a chaste, fond kiss on your lips, your foreheads resting together, just for a moment. It’s not an apology exactly, but somehow it feels like one. It doesn’t even matter - you forgave him long ago anyway.

You smile back at him - a thin, watery thing which you quickly gloss over; and then you each release a breath. You each let it feel lighter. It is only then that you realise how much it had been weighing on you all this time.

Then, your eyes gradually sparking with gentle humour, you distract from this thing between you. You arrange a bubble beard along his jaw, your bright laughter and his resonant chuckle eventually echoing around the tiled room.

He looks at you then like you’re beautiful, his head tilted to one side and you reel a little, his natural charm entirely disarming. Always was that way. “God you can take a dick,” he grins. “And you look good doing it too.”

Despite yourself, you laugh - a dirty, smug sound. “Look who’s talking, Pope.”

And, okay, it’s not the smoothest segue, but you’ll take it. “So… you and Frankie… that was…” you tick up an eyebrow. “…unexpected? Right?”

Santi pouts his full lips, nodding slowly. Expression impassive. “Yeah.” He doesn’t say anymore, even though you feel like he wants to; still, you don’t push him. He’s bound to be emotional right now, and tired, and vulnerable. Santi has bolted for fewer reasons than that before and the last thing you want to do is push him away. Maybe it sounds silly, but you only want to protect him - which has always proven tricky when Santi’s biggest enemy is himself.

So, instead, you chew over a different question, as though you’re about to ask him for the Earth. “Will you come lie up against me, Santi?”

Santi hesitates for a moment. Doesn’t make a move to come closer.

In the space he leaves you almost want to beg him. Don’t run. Don’t run from this. Not me. Not Frankie. Not Will. Not this time.

To your surprise though, he shifts in the water, and he slots his back against your chest, allowing himself to be nestled safely in the loop of your arms. Allowing you to take care of him, for once.

You hold him close to you, and with the weight of him against your chest, somehow, it releases a different weight you’d never even known you were carrying. Not since Will. Not since you were happy.

By the time Will comes into the bathroom to check on you, Santi is dozing against your chest.

You wonder if Will is going to be pissed, somehow, but instead, his eyes glow with admiration as he watches you -the two of you-Santi nestled against your chest, and a smile claims his face at the sweet sight.

He gives you a wink, no agendas behind it, and you love him for it. “You okay, angel?” he whispers with a staggeringly beautiful smile. “Need me to relieve you of brat duty?” He dips a hand in the water. “Water’s almost cold.”

Your eyes crinkle and you swallow a laugh. “He asleep?” you mouth.

“Looks like. Frankie’s zonked out too. Shall we put this one to bed as well?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “You sleepy?

“Not really. Hungry though. Guess fucking your ass really worked up an appetite.” He grins. God. How does he do that? Make you feel so safe and so ignited all at once?

Your eyes light up and you bat your eyelashes at your love in hope. “Snuggles and pizza with my Captain?”

Will’s lips twitch with amusement and adoration in equal measure.

“If it helps you decide, I took three dicks today. Think I deserve it,” you purr.

“Ok, Angel,” Will laughs robustly. “Can do.”

Post-game analysis

After a decent nap, Santi and Frankie join the two of you in the lounge.

Everybody is feeling more rested, eating the leftover pizza, and idly watching some shit 80s action flick that Frankie knows every single line to. There is intermittent chatter too, as everyone reclines on some couch cushion or other.

You and Santi are bunched up in the middle, your head reclined in Will’s lap and his in Frankie’s, the two seated men at opposite ends of the couch. Banter is flying around, and you and Santi are quickly being dubbed the mischief makers and more than playing up to it too, perhaps unconsciously trying to tempt some fun consequences.

“Look. Can we address the true elephant in the room, Pope?” Will sniggers, mid-way through one of the random digressions from the movie. “I thought you were a dom, man.”

“Yeah,” Frankie titters gleefully. “Santi’s a dom until Will’s in the room.” His comment earns him a hearty laugh from you and Will, and pure daggers from the man in question.

“Shit. You wanna watch out or, next time, I’ll prove to you just how well I can dom,” Santi says indignantly. And then, all over again, he tenses up. Feels instantly as though he’s said the wrong thing. That he’s been far too presumptuous. That he’s given far too much away about his wants. Why? Because a repeat performance was never agreed upon. Was never supposed to be on the cards. Still, with effort, his voice comes back, even if this time it is far smaller. “I mean… if there…” he gulps, his mouth suddenly as dry as cotton. “If there’s gonna be a next time.”

A tense silence falls over the room - an awkwardness for the first time today. And for one last time, all eyes converge on Will.

“Why are you all looking at me?” he wonders casually, chowing down on a slice of ham and pineapple without a care in the world.

“Because you’re in charge, Captain,” Frankie says without missing a beat - in all seriousness.

“Well - that’s not quite true,” Will chuckles.

“No?”

“No!” he replies, and his voice becomes suddenly wistful. “No, dumbass. We’re a team.”

Santi feels it.

Feels choked up.

Feels that expansive happiness swell in his chest again. That limitless relief.

He belongs. He belongs. He belongs.

And he feels his heart thudding in his chest.

“Sure, but baby - every team needs a Captain,” you say to his right, in a tone sure to massage whatever shred of ego Will has left.

Will huffs out air disbelievingly -increasingly amused as everyone continues to look towards him, as if to ask, “Well?”

And so, Will can seemingly no longer stifle the smile that crosses his features. “Okay. Well. We clocked… 11 orgasms this time.” That’s Will - Will counts everything. “Next time, squad?” Everyone’s breath is bated, hanging off his every word. “I think we can do a little better.”

At that, Santi lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, and Frankie’s arm settles over him, perhaps with relief too, giving him a gentle squeeze. In turn, Santi reaches out and wraps his arms around your leg, and with all of you around him like this, Santi finally feels like he belongs.

He only hopes this feeling can last.

THE END.

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[tteokdoroki]

saccahrine sundays | k.bakugou

♡ pairing: katsuki bakugou x fem!reader.

♡ word count: 5.3K

♡ rating: mature, 18+, mdni.

♡ genre: pro hero!au, married!au, fluff + smut.

♡ summary: katsuki can never find enough time to get some sleep. between being a full time pro hero, a father and a husband— hours of rest are hard to come by. unless it’s one of those sweet, sweet saccharine sundays.

♡ warning(s): please read ! heavy smut, pwp ( characters aged up to late twenties ), somnophilia, unprotected sex ( wrap it before you tap it, kids ), fingering ( female recieving ), tummy bulges, mating press, pregnancy!kink, daddy!kink, breeding!kink, light!exhibitionism, cumplay + needy bakugou has a praise!kink... <3

♡ author’s note(s): brrr hey guys! it feels like forever since i last posted a full fic, january was bleh so im happy to get this out !! special thanks to @greenchild for feeding me this idea and thank to all of you for your love, support and 2.8K. i love you all, enjoy <3

♡ masterlist | requests

katsuki bakugou couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten a full nights sleep. between being a pro hero and family life, the full eight to nine hours of pure rest wasn’t easy to come by— now he wasn’t complaining, he was far too grateful for the life he lead to whinge and whine about the finer details. bakugou was right on track to becoming the number two, he had a beautiful wife who loved him and supported him no matter how reckless he might have been and two little brats that he adored more than anything. he was miles ahead of his high school classmates, never letting up or resting so like he said, there was no room to complain.

but even as the faintest wisps of light slip through drawn curtains and a vermillion gaze settled on the old all might digital alarm clock ( reading 9:01 AM ), katsuki bakugou can’t help but feel grateful for the sleep he just had. no interruptions from wailing toddlers or infants who need changing, no late night call ins for patrols— none of that, just an arm around his wife’s waist and the soft sound of her breathing to coax him out of his sleepy state.

bakugou remembers now, a distant yet far from faint memory of where he and his wife spent two days of their honeymoon under slumber’s spell, having ravished each other the very night they arrived in paris for their honeymoon ( all mina’s idea, she had told katsuki it was the perfect destination for newly weds in love— and whilst the several districts his alien friend recommended did appease you, the blonde had promised to take you on a more luxurious getaway when he was hire up in the hero rankings ). of course that very honeymoon lead you to fall pregnant with your first little miracle— taiga bakugou, the very spitting image of her father except or the slight tilt to her nose and the sparkle in her eye that only her mother possessed.

raising her had proven to be both an enjoyable and exhausting experience for katsuki, with a matching explosive personality to rival even her daddy’s— there were many restless nights the pro hero spent butting heads with his daughter while his sweet spouse was away on missions and getting used to the field again. even during the pregnancy, full nights of rest were little to none— the cravings taiga gave you were almost unbearable for the blonde, not to mention the 2AM labour his little girl put you through...and yet he would repeat the last four years of lack of sleep all over again if it meant reliving every single moment with you. raising tatsumo was much better; however.

so as the weight of well deserved slumber lifts from katsuki’s shoulder’s he’s forced to deal with the memories of your sweet cries from the night (or rather, nights) he made you his wife. he stirs under cotton sheets, a familiar hardness pressing against his inner thigh as he recalls the way you tightened around him— “honey baby,” the desperate whisper tastes foreign, bitter across his tastebuds as he licks his lips. katsuki was usually much more composed when it came to sex, he could hold out for hours while you pleaded and begged of him to give you more. but this morning was different, very much so.

skilfully, the ash blonde slips a hand between your sheets, finger tips calloused with years of training and battle, dancing up your bare thighs from where you wear only his shirt and a pair of panties. the fingers trail up to your underwear, pressing them against your cunt as bakugou watches your face for any reaction— you twitch once before falling back into a deep slumber, letting your husband know that he can continue. he peels like orange silk away from your core and down your legs, half resisting the urge to sniff your undergarment like the dirty man he is but he decides that he can longer wait, already turned on by the feeling of your bare pussy against his hand.

the pro knows exactly how to turn you on, dragging is nails down your thighs just an inch from your wetness and his mind fogs with lust at the thought of the sounds you’d make for him if you were awake...not yet, he says to himself. his next move is to fuck your mouth, two of his digits sliding past parted lips from where you snore— gathering the drool that pools on the surface of your tongue. back and forth; move bakugou’s fingers until he’s satisfied with how wet you’ve made them with your spit. returning those very same fingers to your cunt, he parts your folds— already slightly sticky and hot with the nectar he’s used to savouring. if this were any other time, bakugou would be eating you out like a man starved of his last three meals but the rising sun tells him that his moments to fuck you are very few.

so now, he slides those lubed up fingers right into your tight little hole, shuddering under the sheets at how you automatically clamp around him— even while you sleep. katsuki’s vermillion eyes seek out your face in the warm light of the dusk, watching as your expression contorts into that familiar look of pleasure— lips blossoming into a cherry pout, brows furrowed as if you’re focusing on the way your husband makes you feel.

“fuck, honey baby, so good ‘n pliant for me even when yur fuckin’ sleepin’,” katsuki slurs against saliva that slips along his tongue, he’s hungry to fuck you, make you moan and scissors his fingers deep inside your obedient cunt in away that makes your slumbering body jump. pressing a thumb to your neglected clit, bakugou twists his fingers in search for your g-spot, pumping them into you with vigour. “gonna make you cum angel, baby, please cum while you’re like this s’you can take my cock.”

if there’s one thing pro hero dynamite knows, it’s that your body is a slave to him, no matter what state it’s in. your thighs part instinctively; giving your husband room to curl his fingers and press down hard on your pleasure spot— gummy walls sucking him in deeper. he makes you cum while you sleep, juices staining  your supple skin, honeyed from the warm light outside.

“atta girl, cummin’ for your husband like that even when you’re sleeping— so fuckin’ naughty...” katsuki grunts, locks of sun kissed hair beginning to plaster itself against his forehead. his body shakes with the desire to be inside of you, his internal temperature rising with every second that he’s not sheathed within your walls. pulling his fingers away from your twitching mound, bakugou slides them, cum soaked and all, into his mouth to taste your very sweetness. “would eatcha out like a starved man, honeybee, but we don’t gotta lot of time left baby...”

with that, bakugou shuffles his sweats down enough for his cock to spring free, tip bright red and leaking against his toned, scarred abdomen. with practised ease, he hooks your right leg over his waist and positions your dripping cunny right over the head of his length. it takes everything katsuki has not to plunge deep inside of you, to abuse your tempting cunt until it’s formed into the shape of his cock but for once he wants to take you slowly, enjoy his time with your limp body at his disposal.

pressing his girth against your slick entrance, your husband sighs, coating himself with the remainders of your delightful release. the mess you made just for him, makes it easier for him to guide his cock between your velveteen folds that take him so well. his free hand comes up to brush over your cheek and even in the depths of your rest you manage to nuzzle into katsuki’s palm and make his coo— what a precious little doll you are, so good for him and always so obedient no matter what state you’re in. fuck, it drives him so insane that he can’t even think straight.

“...suki....”

fucking hell. the way you sigh out for him so mawkishly whilst you dream makes him twitch, not even half the way inside you.  “c’mon honey baby, don’t go moanin’ my name like that when i haven’t even had a c-chance to make you mine yet—“ the blonde shudders, eyes screwing shut as he finally bottoms out inside of you. katsuki let’s out a choked moan, from deep within his chest while you welcome him into your lethally syrupy cunt. “ohh, fuck, that’s the stuff, good girl...”

bakugou’s thrusts start slow yet, forcing your limp body to jolt up the bed and your tits to bounce in tune with the rhythm of his hips— your little hole sucks him in so greedily, so selfishly, clamping down on him as if to prevent him from leaving your body as a whole. pro hero dynamite is shaken to his core, how can his precious baby take him so darlingly while she’s asleep, refusing to let go of him and keep his cock tucked away inside of you.

shit, shit, shit.

he wants to defile you, asleep or not, ruin how pure and angelic your body appears even after years of being together. it’s your fault he’s like this anyway, you deserve to have your pussy destroyed no matter the circumstances— ruby framed eyes threaten to roll back into his skull while bakugou picks up the swirl of his hips between your sticky thighs, you flutter and squeeze around the girth that’s stretched you out so many times before and yet you still remain a tight hole designed for your husband and your husband alone.

lips map their way up the column of your neck, committing every dip and scar and blemish to memory even though katsuki knows where each of them are. the amber colour of the morning sun highlights each of your marks, your husband giving you as many lovebites to match each one. “nn, suki...more..” you whimper, so quiet he almost misses it underneath the sound of wet skin slapping against wet skin. could you feel how he deflowered you in your sleep? ruining such a good girl while you resting? he wants so bad to corrupt you from the inside.

static stretches across katsuki’s brain, crackling as his neurones fire and dopamine fizzes in his veins. cum. cum. breed her. it’s too soon but the blonde can’t help it, pent up and high on the morning sunrise— addicted to the taste of your skin licked with light perspiration. it’s been ages since he’s had you like this, can you blame him for not hanging on so long? bakugou lifts your thigh higher on his waist, using it as leverage to plough into the deepest parts of you, his precious wife, desperate to cream inside you before wake up.

“mm, know you’re close lovebug, won’t you cum for me suki?”

katsuki’s gaze hones in on you, vision blurred and hazy with lust from his impending orgasm. your own eyes are heavy with sleep but the soft smile on your face is filled with a familiar adoration and saccharine love that the blonde can never get tired of. he knows that you know your voice alone is another to send him speeding off of the cliff of release— your hole squeezing around him, beautiful hips that once brought his children into the world gracefully moving up and down to coax his girthy cock to its final release.

“honey baby,” katsuki whines like a broken man when you cup his face, hot puffs of air warming up the space between you.  his hips don’t let up though, driven by the way you move against him beneath the sheets, he’s so close he can almost taste it. “c-couldn’t wait for you to wake up, needed you so fuckin’ bad...”

your mouth hangs open in a quiet groan, getting lost in the claps of sweaty bodies against one another and katsuki latches onto your lower lips to swallow your noise— breathing it in and letting it spread through his body like oxygen. “oh, lovebug, y-you don’t...” you pause, eyes rolling to the back of your head as the angry tip of your husband’s cock grazes against your gummy spot, sending your walls into a flurry of flutters that make katsuki twitch. “ ...you don’t ever have to wait with me, d-don’t hold back, kay?”

you’re a breathless mess, a sight to behold and he can’t take not having you filled with his seed any longer. the lazy push and pull of your bodies smacking wetly against each other become erratic thrusts, heat pooling in the abdomen of the pro hero boiling him alive in feelings of desire for you and you alone.

bakugou quivers from his lips to his toes when he cums, filling your slippery walls with a creamy white and lining your insides with the claim of your man. your man. your husband. “fuck, fucking hell,  h-honey, gimme that pussy...gimmie that fuckin’ pussy,” his groans linger in the crisp early morning air, dancing with the static while he orgasms within you, endless bouts of white stuffing you to the brim. you kiss in an attempt to calm him, squeezing around his thick cock to ride out his high. you taste of orange liquor  and manuka honey, addicting while he sucks lavishly on your tongue and spares you the air you need to breathe. ‘cause at the end of the day call you need is him.

“did you cum, precious one?” ever the gentleman, katsuki has to ask but even you can see in his blood red ruby eyes ( no matter how tired they may seem ) that he’s gearing up for a second round, shallow thrusts pushing his own release  deeper into your fertile womb. there’s about thirty minutes until the kids wake up, but your lover can make you see stars in fifteen.

you shake your head once as bakugou rolls you onto your back— strong arms caging you into the prison if his love. large hands dance tenderly up the back of your thighs and you meet his eyes with such a saccharine smile his heart bursts at the sight of you. “you’re insatiable, lovebug,” the tingling notes of your moan caresses bakugou’s cheek as he manoeuvres your legs to fold you into a mating press, shifting his weight above you. “did you really need me that much, daddy bear?”

“think y’already know the answer to that, honeybee,” katsuki drawls, tripping over his words filled, oh so generously with blazing desire. he still remains sheathed inside you, a darling whine dripping from his cherry lined lips— the ones sore from kissing you— as he gives an experimental thrust into the tight heat of your core. you accept him willingly, opening up for him like a blossoming flower which makes katsuki’s hot breath stutter from the overstimulation. neither of you can look away, sharing the intimate moment of his length sinking into you— katsuki groans as you suck him in inch by inch before leaning over and attaching his lips to yours, licking at the seam of them in order to coax them open. his wife is a tease however; denying him the pleasure of sucking on her tongue...for now at least.

but it’s all worth it, for katsuki wants to burn the erotic sight of you beneath him into his mind forever. your skin shines like it was kissed by the setting moon, eyes hooded and holding a lust that only burns brightly for him while your chest heaves in anticipation of your husband claiming you for the second time that morning. “m-move suki, please—c-can’t...” the tail end of your pleas fall away with the fading night sky.

the man doesn’t need to be told twice.

save for a few shallow thrusts to get going, katsuki soon finds himself pistoning into you at an unruly, god speed pace. the blonde revels in the way one hand of yours twirls strands of his hair between your fingers whilst the other digs crescent moons into his blemished honey skin. helpless huffs and candied cries tickle bakugou’s ears while he presses your body flush against his and pins you down with his hips.

their movements don’t ever waver, cock catching on every ridge your damp pussy has to offer him, each thrust calculated amplify your pleasure that rolls in heatwaves throughout your body. katsuki’s mind grows blank, thick with the mirage you’ve cast over him from the way you push back against him, taking more of his inches into you.

“ngh, lovebug,” you say, high off of euphoria while katsuki’s leaking cock bears down harshly on your g-spot and you smile up at him deliriously— looking like the eighth wonder of the world. you grab the hand your husband uses to keep your thighs up and bring it down to your tummy for him to feel what you feel. “can feel your cock inside me, love, so big...makin’ my tummy bulge like a good daddy bear...”

something snaps within katsuki at the sound of your breathless praise; a feral blaze setting alight deep inside his chest— spreading throughout his body as his cock drives deeper and deeper inside your spongy, wet cunt— just about breaching the gates of your cervix. breed her. fuck her. make her swollen with your cum. bakugou can’t even think straight; intoxicated by the way you move against him, the way you look so full of him and his thick length.

he wants you to look full all of the time. so katsuki does with the only way he knows how. dropping his head to your neck, sharp attack your neck with blossoms of bruises forming under your skin in the name of love— you whine, a gorgeous symphony of his name against his ear while you tangle your fingers in the baby hairs at the nape of his neck. “y’can’t jus...jus say stuff like that to me, honey...” bakugou croons against your skin, screwing his eyes shut while his hips pick up the pace and plunging his length right into your womb. the sounds of your arousal wetly spill into the sex scented air— fuelling katsuki to thrust into you faster. “not if you...n-not if you don’t want me to fuck another one of those shitty brats into you.”

as stuttered as his words are, bakugou means every single one of them. a primal desire activates in the back of his mind, overriding every single of senses. just the thought of lining your womb with his pungent seed, making you pregnant once again and seeing you round and full with katsuki’s child is enough to drive him off of the rails. And the pro hero knows that you feel the same, he can tell by the way your heat clamps down on his cock and strangles him, as if to milk him of every ounce of his cum.

“yes, want you to make me pregnant suki, make me a mommy again, please—!”  you simper out loud, desperate tears springing to your eyes while the bed groans beneath you. visions of you round and swollen with a baby drives him to thrust into you harder, faster so that more and more of his precum spills into you. “know you want it, want it too...your cum, deep inside me—ohmygod suki—yes!”

bakugou slaps a hand over your mouth, watching as your sweet doe eyes brim with tears at the languid roll of his hips against yours. “careful honeybee, don’t want the kids to...fuckin’ hell... h-hear—“ he stutters, eyes rolling, limbs shaking violently. his other hand drops between your conjoined bodies, drawing vicious circles into your swollen clit to draw you closer and closer to the edge. star dust is littered behind your eyes, the bright white signifying the race to your high that only katsuki can give to you. “or do you want to be heard, you want everyone to hear how full you’re gonna become when i get you pregnant again. how you’ll whine and beg me to suck on your tits when you start makin’ that sweet milk for our baby. is that what you fuckin’ want, yn?”

you can’t help the way your pussy flutters around his cock that brutally grazes your g-spot— the dirty words your husband speaks like music to your ears. a symphony with his moans and the sounds of his balls slapping against your bare ass.  “oooh, shit baby, you must do with the way your lil cunny clamps down on me—just like that...”

“oh god, lovebug please...cum...cum! need it daddy bear—can’t take it anymore,” you babble against katsuki’s hand, brain turning to mush at the unbearable pleasure. the knot in your tummy becomes tighter, close to snapping as the white light of pleasure clouds your view.

patterns drawn diligently against your clit speed up; turning to quick figure of eights to tease your orgasm. “‘course you fuckin’ do honey baby, my little breeding bitch. my sweet little wife who can’t wait to be a mommy again. take this cock, you dirty whore. take it and I’ll give you my fuckin’ baby.” bakugou slurs, losing all control as the pace of his hips begins to falter. you can feel his dick twitching inside of you, tip pulsing with the need to paint your insides.

your gazes lock within the frenzy, while your back arches and hips lift to take your husband deeper inside you. dynamite is feral like you’ve never seen before; an animal reduced purely back to instinct. unfocused red eyes become teary like your own with hot pleasure while they lock onto you but you know that behind lust; loved the adoration and love your husband holds for you. thats all you need to reach the edge and tumble into your orgasm,

it takes but a few more thrusts and a pinch to your clit before you’re cumming— release squirting out and splattering against bakugou’s toned abdomen.

the blonde never lets up while you cum undone on his iron hot rod, letting him pump into you with unrelenting feverishness. katsuki is desperate, needing an extra push even with you strangling his cock with your insides. “s-say you’ll make your daddy a daddy baby, say you’ll give me another fucking kid. fuck, fuck yeah...please honey baby—“ bakugou damn near sobs, trembling violently above you as his breath hitches with ever hiccup.

smiling gently, you pull his head to your neck, cradling your husband while his pace slows to circular grinds. “i’ll make you a daddy again, you can cum for me now lovebug...”

“shit, shit, oh god— cummin’...” thats all bakugou needs to hear before bottoming out inside of your abused hole—  screaming against your bitten flesh and forcing his cock into your fertile womb as he sprays with his thick, sticky seed. white coats every ridge and crevice of your pussy while impatient thrusts slow to sensual grinds. you feel the tears of neediness soak the supple skin of your neck, rocking your hips against katsuki to milk his cock for all it’s worth— even if slow waves of his cum seep down your folds and to the sheets below.

“g’morning, katsuki,” you sigh blissfully, fingers combing through your lover’s sweaty mop of sun kissed locks. the pair of you lie still, limbs still intertwined as you catch your breath under the orange hues of the light outside.

your husband shifts his head to look at you, eyelids heavy over blood red eyes with a satisfied look on his face. he’ll never get over having you all to himself first thing in the morning— katsuki bakugou will always consider that a luxury and as he looks to you, a great smile soon takes his features. “yeah...good fucking morning to you too, angel face,” bakugou doesn’t dare pull out of you, intent on keeping his word. “love you yn, you’re always so good to me...”

katsuk’s lips mould into a pout as you continue your earlier ministrations of brushing back sweat slicked hair away from his face before pressing a chase kiss to his lip and making his cock twitch from over sensitivity, inside of you. he was always a sucker for the romantic moments after a passionate round of sex, he was a domestic, love struck son of a bitch what could he say? “suki...lovebug, you know you can pull out if it’s too much,” you remind him, the sound of your voice pulling his attention back to you. as he stares; katsuki maps out every detail of your face, the way your eyes glitter in the mellow light that peeks from between closed curtains or the slight dip across your cheek in the form of a scar from where you’d been injured on the field— he spends time committing it all to memory as if it’s the last time he’ll get to witness such beauty. “you’re staring, bug.”

“nuh uh, not pulling out.” huffing, bakugou leans up for another kiss, which you happily provide him with as he curls up onto your chest like a kitten seeking warmth. “keepin’ you plugged full s’you can get preggers like i fuckin’ promised.”

“you were serious?” you question him first, earning yourself another grouchy huff before your eyes roll and a comfortable silence sweeps across your bedroom, periodically interrupted by the morning birds waking up and chirping. “always a man of your word, huh bug? don’t worry, we’ll make you a daddy bear soon, but i’ve got to clean up before the kids wake up.”

“don’ you fuckin’ move— leave the dumbass kids, they’ll be fine on their own.”

“not with taiga’s quirk coming through, now move, you’re heavy.”

with that, you manage to shove bakugou off of you and he only hisses lightly as his softened cock hits the cold air, already missing your heat. the banter between you both as husband and wife is always light and you always win; he wants to bite back but anything he says will be soft on his sharp tongue. damn you and you being the love of his life. bakugou watches as you fix his shirt over your frame and head to your en-suite bathroom to make yourself more presentable to your kids— mumbling something about how many times katsuki came inside of you.

sure there was a lot of it, but he’d only cum inside you twice and he was trying to give you a baby. again.

the shower turns on and he can hear the sound of water running but it doesn’t cover your sweet voice as you call for him. he could never miss that. “katsuki bakugou, you horny bastard, i love you, my daddy bear!” you sing for him; making the blonde smile.

“i love you more, honey baby,” he chuckles back, tucking himself back into sweats before settling back into the ruined sheets.

bakugou was so luckily to have you and you’re beautiful children— he wouldn’t trade any moment of his life for the world except for maybe more time with you. he swore, he’d spend forever loving you if he could.

“daddy?” sweet thoughts are cut off by the groggy voice of bakugou’s eldest daughter, taiga, who stands in the doorway of his bedroom rubbing her cherry red eyes.

the blonde grins, rising from his place in bed and crossing the room in three short strides. he quickly crouches down in front of his little girl and ruffle her unruly mop of matching blonde hair. “g’morning brat, what’s up?”

taiga clutches her shoto plushy tightly, the one uncle todoroki had gotten her for her first birthday ( the one that bakugou hated because it was his daughter’s favourite— kirishima hated it too because he had always thought he was the favourite uncle ), and pouts down at her father, scowling sleepily. bakugou knows if you could see the two of them now, you’d be saying she was the spitting image of him. “tatsumo woke up n wouldn’t stop whinin’, fink he’s hungry, daddy!” the little girl grumbles, clearly still reeling in the after effects of her sleep that got cut short.

“how about we go get him and make some pancakes then?” katsuki suggests softly, hauling his daughter onto his bare shoulders and being mindful not to drop her stupid fuckin’— i mean her plushy to the ground. “y’gonna help me mix up enough batter for ya ma n’ brother, you got that brat?”

taiga squeals as at the new found height, wrapping a singular chubby arm around bakugou’s head for support, making his heart burst at the tiny hand that grips his chin. fuck, he loved his life. “only if we can add choco chwips, daddy!”

“oi, don’t you push your fuckin’ luck with me brat, ya mommy might let you get away with eatin’ shit like that but not me—“ bakugou makes an attempt to scold his daughter while they make way towards his son’s room, but he already knows he’s going to give into her. he can’t say no to taiga.

“i’ll tell mommy you cursed at me!”

“why you little sh—“

“careful, katsuki, if you keep cursing her out i might have to put you on punishment later,” taiga bursts in to wriggly giggles on bakugou’s shoulders, making it harder to keep her in place as you brush past him to grab tatsumo from the nursery.

“daddy’s gonna get in trouble!”

the teasing tone to your voice lingers in the air while you fetch your son, who seems groggy and pouty when he comes into katsuki’s view— wrapped up in your arms while you wear a cleaner shirt of his. there’s that glint in your eye, similar to the one your children posses when they’re doing something mischievous. and  that alone tells the ash blonde he’ll be getting punished in ways that could lead to another little one rushing through your house.

bakugou can roll with that.

but for now; he reaches up and pinches taiga’s nose— telling her to stop running her mouth and sending you into giggles while you carry your children downstairs for breakfast. katsuki bakugou couldnt remember the last time he’d gotten a full nights sleep, but what he did know is that he’d always remember the very saccharine mornings he’d get to spend with you and your beautiful children after.

bonus:

“taiga, did you put chocolate chips in the batter even though i told you no?”

bakugou had turned his back for but a mere second to grab some milk for tatsumo; who played happily with smooshed bits of banana in his high chair— and suddenly, the batter was littered with the offending, tiny pieces of candy.

“no, it was mommy!”

“yn...”

you quickly throw your hands up in the air as defence, dropping the packet of sinful treats to the counter. “what? i’m having cravings, bakugou!”

“you’re not even pregnant, yn!” the man himself raises his spatula at you accusingly with a scowl, biting down on his tongue to prevent himself from cursing again.

you smile up at your husband, knowing he can’t stay mad at you for long. “but i will be, katsuki, it’s the thought that counts.” your eyes flicker up as you wipe the melted chocolate on your finger tips off with your tongue before moving to settle your daughter down for breakfast. bakugou splutters, cheeks flaming with a reddish rose at the thought of your soon to be baby and all the activity that comes with making one which makes you laugh. “oh and lovebug? your pancakes are burning.”

with a jump, katsuki turns to flick off the flame and save his batch of pancakes while you tend to your kids— leaving him to contemplate over your chocolate chip breakfast, how lucky he was to have you.

“i crave chocolate, can i get a pregnant?” taiga squeals shortly after.

“not a chance in hell, brat.”

♡ taglist:

@ozzy-bozzy @bakugous-mamas @meg-mystic @runningon-5percentsleep @cyans-bliss @husband-to-tomura-shigaraki @paintedr0ses1 @69meggg69 @sapphoscolonoscopy @toshidou @saucey-kneecapzz42020 @candybabey @alrunemara​ @greenchild​

[banditthewriter]

Redolence Masterlist

Summary: The reader is an Omega who works at a Companion Center that helps the Alphas through their ruts. She gets a request from an Alpha named Billy Russo. An immediate connection builds into more as the two of them navigate the ins and outs of the society they live in and the feelings their connection brings out of them.

Warnings: Smut. No really, lots of smut. Also angst because yeah. Sex in various positions. Oral sex (male and female receiving.) The reader does sleep with other Alphas but it is only ever mentioned, never described. Some talk of slave trade, not detailed. Angry sex. Unprotected sex. Reader experiences a bad panic attack that is described.

Word Count: 35.8k

Smut marked with **

Part 1** X Part 2** X Part 3** X Part 4** X Part 5** X Part 6**

[jeonsjiddies]

extra credit | jjk (m) 3 - final

Summary-  Jungkook loves to take control. Word Count- ~1k Pairing- Jungkook x reader Genre- smut Warnings- dom!jungkook, dirty talk, teasing, edging, power kink, praise kink, dirty talk, daddy kink, exhibitionism, public orgasm, oral (f recieving) Unedited

Part 1 | Part 2

What you thought would be a one time thing quickly morphed into something more, neither you nor Jungkook willing to let go. You were addicted to the feel of him, the smell of him, the way his body moved, the way his voice made you shiver. You didn’t think you’d ever get enough of Jungkook, ever be satiated. He was a drug to you. Jungkook tested your limits, encouraged you to try new things, both in the bedroom and out of it.

Which is how you found yourself at the podium, giving another lecture to his 9am class while he sat innocently in the front row, flipping his phone around in his large hand. The phone that was currently connected via Bluetooth to the vibrating panties pressing up against your sex. Jungkooks eyes shone, no, glittered with mischief as he watched your tense, nervous body give the lecture.

Originally, you had wholeheartedly rejected the idea of wearing vibrating panties to your lecture, with Jungkook able to control their frequency from his phone, but he had ways of convincing you. Those ways had been his sweet lips wrapped around your throbbing bud, that skillful tongue darting in and out of your drenched pussy until you were on the verge of tears, only for Jungkook to tear his mouth away, obscenely running his tongue along the expanse of his lips and letting out a wantan moan.

“Fucking delicious, Angel.”

“Jungkook.” You’d whined, wiggling your hips and pressing your thighs together for the slightest bit of relief.

“What is it, baby? You wanna cum? Want to fall apart on Daddy’s tongue?” He’d teased, trailing a finger lightly along your slit,

“Yes please Daddy!”

“Mmm… only good girls get to cum, my love. And good girls… they do what Daddy says,” he’d held the panties leisurely from the tip of his finger, dangling them in the air in front of you.

“Fine, I’ll wear them, just… make me cum, please!”

Jungkook grinned triumphantly and dove back into your heat, sucking on your throbbing bundle, then licking long stripes along it, working his fingers inside your needy cunt until you were falling apart beneath him, clutching onto his hair and tugging for something to ground yourself from the euphoria coursing through your veins. He’d pulled away once you were a panting, sweaty mess.

“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day,” he’d winked, “but we’re going to be late if we don’t leave soon.”

And so, ever the slave to your own arousal, you’d found yourself in front on fifty college students with a vibrator pressed against your clit and lacy panties threatening to peek out the top of your skirt. Your heart was pounding each time you saw Jungkook turn his phone to unlock it, and he was so enjoying your misfortune. He smirked and drug his finger along the screen, but nothing happened, he was just teasing you. You felt like a rubber band about to snap.

“In chapter thirTEE-“ you gasped, doubling over as vibrations began against your clit just as you were discussing the assigned reading.

“Miss Y/L/N! Are you okay?” One of the girls in the front row asked, alarmed and half standing.

“I’m fine!” You choked out, raising one arm to reassure her, slowly lifting your head to stand up right.

“Are you sure? You don’t look fine.” Jungkook smirked, eyes meeting yours as you stood to your normal height.

“I am fi-ine, Mr. Jeon. Just… a muscle cr-amp.”

Jungkook had turned the intensity up, his thumb nonchalantly moving along his screen to change the pattern of vibrations as you spoke. Your core clenched with each new wave of pleasure and you did your best to act normally with your clit being assaulted by the delicious sensations.

You weren’t sure what was more arousing, the actual vibrations against your clit, or the animalistic glint in Jungkooks’s eyes as he controlled you in the very place you were meant to be in charge.

He backed off for a moment, allowing you to finish your lecture and assign the homework, but just as you were discussing the test the following week, Jungkook turned the power on full blast, sending you reeling right into an orgasm. You doubled over, biting on your arm to try and conceal the groan spilling from your lips as your body shook with pleasure.

“Miss Y/L/N!”

You gripped the podium to keep yourself upright as the aftershocks from your orgasm made your legs weak. You were breathing heavily but held up a hand to reassure your students.

“I am not feeling well, let’s go ahead and end class early. I’ll see you all next week.”

“Will you be okay?” One student asked.

“Maybe you should let me drive you home, professor. Looks like you could use a hand.” Jungkook spoke, slinging his bag onto his shoulder and walking up to you.

“Thank you, Mr. Jeon. I will see the rest of you next week,” you dismissed.

The students shuffled out of the classroom and as soon as the last one was gone, Jungkook locked the door and confidently strode up to you, gripping your chin and angling your head up to meet his gaze.

“Such a good girl for Daddy, you look so pretty when you fall apart for me… I think you deserve a reward, don’t you?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m gonna make you feel good, professor. Now, take that skirt off and bend over your desk. I’m ready for lunch.”

And who were you to ever deny Jungkook?

[ixalit]

Do you have any queer book recs? Fiction, nonfiction, poetry... I’ll take anything really 😅

I do!

I’ll put my queer fiction/fantasy, nonfiction, and poetry recs below the cut. 

Fiction/Fantasy

Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe by Benjamin Alire Sáenz

One of my all-time favorite books. Ever. Seriously, I’ve read it so many times I could probably quote parts back to you. It reads like poetry with a beautiful story and happy ending. It’s about two teenage boys in El Paso, Texas who become friends and eventually more. The author himself is also gay. 

There’s also a sequel, Aristotle and Dante Dive into the Waters of the World, coming later in 2021

Carry On by Rainbow Rowell

I think one of the reasons I like this book (and series) is because it reads like fanfiction. That’s probably because it... kind of is! It’s a similar universe to Harry Potter, with a magical boarding school and a “chosen one” who needs to defeat an antagonist. But there’s also a lot more narrators, funny snark, and gay makeouts.

This is part of a series. Wayward Son is the second book, and the third book, Any Way the Wind Blows, is coming in July 2021. 

Captive Prince by C.S. Pacat

Again, I think one of the reasons I love this series so much is because it reads like fanfiction. And that’s probably because it was originally posted on LiveJournal!

It’s official summary is: “Damen is the true heir to the throne, but when his half brother seizes power, Damen is captured, stripped of his identity and sent to serve the Prince of a rival nation as a pleasure slave.” But IMO it’s so much more than this. This series is fascinating and intriguing and I couldn’t put it down. 

Warnings for a shitton of unresolved sexual tension and several explicit scenes, including noncon. 

This is part of a trilogy. Here is the second book, The Prince’s Gambit, and the third is Kings Rising.

On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous by Ocean Vuong 

This book is a letter from a son in his late 20s to a mother who can’t read. It’s beautifully written and heartbreaking and a wonderfully brutal look at race, class, masculinity, and family.

Ocean Vuong is also a poet, and it definitely shows in his writing in the best way. 

Nonfiction

When Brooklyn Was Queer by Hugh Ryan

I bought this as a Stucky fan to help my own fic writing, but came to love it for so many other reasons too. It’s an amazingly researched look into the queer history of Brooklyn, New York spanning the 1850s through the late 1900s. It’s full of just as many funny stories as heartbreaking ones, and was riveting the whole way through (as well as giving me a much-needed education for my writing). 

This Book Is Gay and What’s The T? by Juno Dawson

I got these books when I was starting to exploring my gender and sexuality. They’re very informative and easy to read, and were a wonderful resource for my parents to learn about the lgbt+ community after I came out. Since then, I’ve used them in my sex-ed classes and recommended them to many queer teen and parent groups I’ve been asked to speak at. 

To give you a taste, some of the chapters in This Book Is Gay are “Where to Meet People Like You”, “The Ins and Outs of Gay Sex”, and “Stereotypes Are Poo.” The author herself is also trans. 

Poetry

Crush and War of The Foxes by Richard Siken ( @richardsiken-poet )

If you are gay, on tumblr, or in fandom, there’s probably a 99% chance you’ve heard of or read something by Richard Siken. Both of these books are full of impactful words and beautiful (and sometimes horrible but still beautiful) imagery. I have yet to find any other poet that comes close to his unique brand of poetry. 

Please, The Tradition, and The New Testament by Jericho Brown

Please focuses on love and violence, and has become one of my favorite books of poetry. 

The Tradition deals with how we’ve become accustomed to fear and terror in all aspects of life - bedroom, classroom, workplace, the movie theater... His poems discuss everything from mass shootings, rape, police brutality, and homophobia, and it’s a beautiful book. 

The New Testament is more about examining race, masculinity, and sexuality in the context of religion. It’s a wonderful look at life, death, rituals, good and bad, shame, and culture. 

The Anchorage and Voluntary Servitude by Mark Wunderlich

The Anchorage is a beautiful collection of poems that all seem to relate to each other in a web of repeated details and voice. It’s split into four sections and takes you on a journey when you read it altogether. 

Voluntary Servitude is largely about love, sex, betrayal, family, and heartbreak. It’s full of strong imagery and beautiful words. I would put this, Crush by Richard Siken, and Please by Jericho Brown into the same category. I absolutely love them all. 

Collected Poems by Thom Gunn

This is a big book of most of Thom Gunn’s poetry and includes his books Fighting Terms, My Sad Captains, Jack Straw’s Castle, Touch, The Man With Night Sweats, and more. It covers many subjects throughout his life and career including HIV/AIDS. He’s heavy on and more formal with meter than some other poets, so if you like that, give it a try!

Night Sky with Exit Wounds by Ocean Vuong

Another from Ocean Vuong! This one is a poetry collection that looks at everything from love, romance, and family to memory, grief, and war. It’s also beautifully gentle, and I’m always left stunned by his words. 

[howdydarling]

masterlist: dune;

AU LIST.

au; giedi prime --

[ABO] A Harkonnen raid lands an unpresented Eli in the emerald mining slave pits on Giedi Prime. Six months in and starving, he chances an attempt at stealing food from an older man - a mistake that ought to get him killed. Instead, the man - Gurney Halleck - finds some pity still in him, and when he realizes the thief is in the same sleeping block as him, he takes it upon himself to try teach him how to survive in the pits. When Eli begins to present as an omega, a revelation that would immediately have gotten him dragged from the pits and sold to the highest bidder, the pair begin desperately working to hide what he is from everyone around them. They are eventually separated during an Atreides raid, in which Gurney escapes to his freedom, and Eli willingly gives himself up to Harkonnen guards and exposes his designation as an omega to stop them from shooting him and secure the time needed for Gurney and the others in their group to escape. They meet again many years later, when they briefly spot one another at a Landsraad social event. Pairings: heavily Gurney/Eli-centric, but also features eventual Duncan/Eli and Leto/Eli Specific warnings: Large age gap, miscommunications leading to relationship conflicts, omegaverse, heat/rut/mating cycles, biting/claiming, breeding, pregnancy, oc kids, canon-typical events and violence. See the warnings page for more general blog warnings.

writing. aesthetics. playlist.

au; royal concubine --

[ABO] Eli is bought as an unpresented but guaranteed omega in an auction by Shaddam IV to be added to his harem. Not fond of being bought, and not fond of the man who bought him, Eli conspires to find a way out of his situation. He works with a new friend - Emma, a fellow concubine - to learn the ins and outs of the political and social intrigue that takes place between the Houses at Landsraad social events in an attempt to find a way out. While scoping out Leto Atreides as a potential ally after hearing of his reputation, he's intercepted by Gurney Halleck, who proves himself to be just the man Eli is looking for. Pairings: Gurney/Eli, casual Duncan/Eli, casual Leto/Eli, Cando/Eli, casual Stilgar/Eli, noncon Shaddam/Eli, noncon/dubcon advances Fenring/Eli Specific warnings: Large age gap, manipulation, sex as a tool, pregnancy, oc kid, slut-shaming, omegaverse, heat/rut/mating cycles, breeding, biting/claiming, drugging, canon-typical events and violence. See the warnings page for more general blog warnings.

writing. aesthetics. playlist.

au; giedi bonds --

[ABO] A Harkonnen raid lands a young Eli in the child-hunt on Giedi Prime alongside Duncan Idaho. The two meet each other when Eli spots Duncan being chased by a hunting party from a tree he's climbed into to hide from the same hunters. He risks alerting Duncan to the danger, and gets him into the tree with him before the hunting party comes through. When the group passes, Eli and Duncan form an alliance and grow close through the trials of helping each other survive. A "Duncan and Eli grow up together" AU. Pairings: Duncan/Eli, Gurney/Eli, Leto/Eli, brief Leto/Jessica Specific warnings: Large age gap, omegaverse, heat/rut/mating cycles, breeding, pregnancy, lots of oc kids, biting/claiming, BG bullshittery, Jessica used as a weapon, very bad no good decisions on Leto's part, misunderstandings, cheating(?), relationship angst, unwanted sexual advances.

writing. aesthetics. playlist.

nonspecific; misc drabbles --

tba.

RELATIONSHIP LIST.

key: "/" = possible sexual relationship. "&" = nonsexual relationship.

ROMANTIC;

gurney halleck/eli kemper

duncan idaho/eli kemper

leto atreides/eli kemper

[OC] cando/eli kemper

ANTAGONISTIC;

shaddam corrino iv/eli kemper

hasimir fenring/eli kemper

piter devries&eli kemper

vladimir harkonnen&eli kemper

glossu rabban&eli kemper

feyd-rautha harkonnen/eli kemper

PLATONIC;

thufir hawat&eli kemper

paul atreides&eli kemper

chani&eli kemper

stilgar/eli kemper

[OC] torynn&eli kemper

[OC] emma&eli kemper

[OC] sophie&eli kemper

[myhockeyworld87]

Bubble Wrapped - Part 1

Word Count: 2,683

POV: Reader

Warnings: Language

Notes: Ok so here is basically our introduction to the Bubble Wrapped story. I have no timeline for this thing or even if it will continue, you guys let me know. As a background, this story will be about life inside Hotel X. In case you don’t know the teams inside Hotel X are the Bruins, Capitals, Flyers, Penguins and Lightning. So here we go, Happy Reading!

You'd been shocked when Hotel X had been picked as one of the hotels for the NHL to stay at when they resumed play in Toronto. Even more so when you were asked if you would take over the management of the place over the next several weeks. "Listen (Y/N) we know we are asking a lot. You'll have to live at the hotel with all the players as the NHL is really trying to keep everyone in this little bubble."

 "I understand. I've already talked to Carly about putting different measures in place when the Maple Leafs came to us before submitting their proposal." Carly was another member of the hotel staff, that served as one of their concierges. She knew the ins and outs of the city and could get tickets or dinner reservations on the drop of a dime. That was all before COVID though. Now, some restaurants were still closed and shows hadn't resumed yet. What once was a bustling city, had come to a dead stop over the last several months, though things were starting to get back to normal; well the new normal that is.

 "So we heard." You hoped the blush that crept up your cheeks couldn't be seen on the zoom call as that had become their new form of communication with you. "You've dealt with the players before, we know you can handle it. Though this time it'll be completely different with five or six teams staying there." Most of the players had always been super nice to the staff, though there were a few that could be demanding at times. You prayed they'd all push their egos aside, at least while in the hotel, though somehow you doubted that. "I think you're familiar with the NHL's protocol on their reopening, but we'll email you everything once we get it. Start putting together the staff that you want. Just some core people that you'll need."

 "I've got the right people in mind, don't worry."

 The call went for a bit longer going over specifics. The only benefit out of the whole thing was that they were giving you the Presidential Suite to stay in. Honestly, it was the least they could do; you thought. Of course, the called ending with them saying, "Don't let us down."

 As soon as it ended you called Carly making sure she was on board. "I'm just saying Car that many hockey players in the hotel; the testosterone is going to be flying around."

 "So what you're telling me is you've already packed an extra-large box of condoms."

 "Carly!" You shouted at your friend. "That's not what I was saying at all."

 "Come on (Y/N), I know you're one of Seguin's regulars when he's in Toronto."

 "I'm one of them because I can keep my mouth shut." It was true that when Tyler was in town during the summer or on a road trip the two of you always hooked up. Sort of a no strings attached relationship, though you did talk from time to time. "Besides he's not even going to be in Toronto. He's in the Edmonton bubble."

 "Oh, I didn't realize." Carly despite being from Canada was not a hockey lover, though she did appreciate the men who played the sport. "Well, maybe you should call him and get the scoop. You know find out who we need to be aware of."

 It wasn't a bad idea, not that you were going to ask him who to sleep with, but maybe it would help get a handle on who was going to be problematic, as there was no way you wanted to let the owners of the hotel down. You had a lot riding on this and after all, you couldn't put bitter rivals in one hotel and not expect some drama. "You're right. I am going to call him."

 "Ooo good, let me know what he says and if we should get more than one box of those condoms."

 You shook your head at your friend before hanging up and dialing Tyler's number. "Hey beautiful, long time no talk," Tyler said and you could almost hear the smile in his voice.

 "Hey Ty, how's quarantine life going?"

 "Ugh, don't get me started. I was not meant to be locked in my house without hockey for this long." Tyler wasn't meant to stay put anywhere too long, including relationships.

 "Well, hockey's almost back so there's that."

 "Yeah, I'm pumped about it, though I wish I was staying in Toronto instead. I know some fun that we could get up to since I have to stay in the bubble." He paused and you could clearly tell he was running different sex scenarios in his head. "I'm assuming your working at the hotel."

 "Yeah, it's kind of why I called. I'm one of the ones trapped in the bubble with you guys."

 Tyler groaned. "So, you called to ask me who you should hook up with? Cause babe, I'm not sure I'm willing to share you like that."

 "Shut up Ty, you know we're not like that. You couldn't stay faithful to one woman if you tried." Part of the reason the two of you got along so good, was the fact that you called him out on his bullshit.

 "I might if I could drag you with me everywhere." You giggled at the insinuation of being taken everywhere just so you could keep him satisfied. "You're definitely gifted with many talents (Y/N)."

 "You're not so bad yourself, but we're getting away from why I called."

 "You mean you didn't call to have phone sex with me," and you could hear his pout.

 "No, I didn't call for that. I was just curious if you had any idea who was going to give me problems while we're in this so-called bubble. I'm trying to be preemptive here."

 "Ok, but if I give you some information you at least have to promise to send me a pic of your tits." You mentally rolled your eyes at him; the boy was a horndog.

 "Fine, now spill some tea."

 "Spill some tea, what is this a gossip blog or something."

 "You're avoiding the question Ty, and I'm putting on a sweatshirt." He groaned.

 "Alright, don't get your panties in a bunch…or maybe do." It never ended with him. "I don't know a lot about some of the younger guys that are newer in the league, but my guess is they're all horny little bastards. Hell, I was when I first got in the league."

 "You still are."

 "Touché." He answered before continuing on. "So, like I probably don't have to mention the rivalries to you, but like Caps and Pens hate each other, the Flyers and Pens hate each other. Doesn't everyone just hate the Pens?"

 "I think you either love them or hate them."

 "That's true," he agreed with your statement. "The Flyers and the Caps hate each other as well and don't get me started with who hates the Bruins. Wow, who really put them all in your hotel?"

 "I'd like to know that as well." It seemed like whoever did, had a warped sense of humor and you were now going to be stuck handling the mess that they'd made. "So, basically what you're saying is that it'll be an all-out brawl at times that I'll have to clean up after."

 "Sorry babe, but I think it could be. On the bright side, we're supposed to stay on our own floors."

 "Like that's going to happen." Maybe you should designate elevators or something because you could just see Alex Ovechkin and Claude Giroux getting in one at the same time and by the time, they got to your lobby they'd both be bloody and beaten. "Anything else I should know?"

 "You seriously want me to go there?"

 "I mean...if you want to." You certainly weren't going to ask but if he offered the information you'd tuck it away for later that's for sure.

 He sighed heavily, "You know I hate this, but like Tom Wilson gets around that's for sure and I've heard that Travis Konecny does as well. If I'm being honest there's maybe been a girl or two that's compared us."

 "Really?"

 "That doesn't mean you have to be one of them, though if you are…you better tell them I'm better."

 "Don't worry Ty, I'll sing your praises. I promise." Obviously, you wouldn't be doing that but it didn't hurt to stroke his ego a bit. "Anyone, to avoid?"

 "Marchy!"

 "Dude, he was like one of your best friends. Why would you say that?"

 "Because I know him. Stay away he's trouble." The fact that you could almost see the look on his face as he was telling you was comical.

 "Fine."

 "Oh and stay away from Carter Hart." The name sounded familiar.

 "The goalie from Philly? Why?"

 "Because you'll corrupt him." You burst out laughing and Ty joined you. "He's too innocent for you."

 "Dually noted, as I do not want to be known as the corruptor of innocents." You searched your mind thinking of anything else you could ask since you had him on the phone. "What about Crosby?"

 "Sid?" and he just couldn't stop laughing; you could even hear him try to catch his breath.

 "Why is that so funny? The man is hot Tyler, whether you want to admit it or not."

 He got serious as he asked, "Who's hotter him or me?"

 Thank god you weren't on FaceTime, so you could answer him without your features giving you away. "You are Ty, of course."

 "I thought so, but like the guy is hockey twenty-four seven. There's no way he's going to be thinking about getting laid."

 "That's disappointing."

 "He's about the only one that I'd give you permission to fuck, only because I know it would be impossible for you to accomplish, even given all your talents." You could hear the mischievous tone in his voice.

 "Hmmm, are you willing to bet on that?"

 "What? Like bet, you'll fuck Crosby in the bubble?"

 "Yeah." Did it really sound like such an unattainable accomplishment?

 "What's the wager?"

 "Winner flies out when this whole COVID shit is done and is the other's sex slave for twenty-four hours."

 "Oh, you are on, baby. I can already see you handcuffed to my bed in some skimpy lingerie." He cackled at the thought and it fueled your resolve to win this bet.

 "Don't be so sure about that."

 "And how am I to know that you actually slept with him?"

 Well, this would be tricky. "Well, it's not like I'm videoing it."

 "No, but that gives me ideas for when I win." Maybe you should be rethinking this gamble.

 "What do you want his underwear?"

 "Nah, you could get that in the laundry. But I'm sure you could sneak a pic of him sleeping." God that sounded creepy but if it meant you had Ty as your slave for a day, it'd be worth it and you'd never show it to anyone else but him and even then you weren't going to send it to him, though he didn't need to know that now.

 "Ok, it's a bet then."

 "Too bad we can't kiss on it."

 "Oh, you'll be doing more than kissing when I win, Seguin." Mentally you started packing sexy outfits to take into the bubble with you while thinking of all the things you'd have Tyler do the next time you saw him. "On that note, I better get my ass to work and make this hotel ready for these guys."

 "Fine, I'll let you go as long as you promise to FaceTime me at some point during this bubble thing."

 "I'm sure I'll have a night open for you at some point." You teased.

 "Woman, you better."

 "No worries Ty, you're still my main man; when you're in town."

 "That's right baby, good luck."

 "Thanks for all the info, Ty. We'll catch up soon and good luck in the playoffs."

 You were just about to hang up when you heard him yell. "Don't forget my titty picture."

 All you could do was shake your head and click end call, though you being a woman of your word, you snapped a quick pic and sent it off to him; to which he responded with a drool face emoji.

 The next couple of weeks were a literal whirlwind as you moved into the hotel's presidential suite and got things ready. Beds were moved out so that some rooms that had two queens now had one king in them. The hotel was disinfected from top to bottom. If felt like you were wearing a hazmat suit all the time during this process. A week before the players arrived the NHL staff did, making sure everything was in order and making sure you had things set up for daily COVID testing. Of course, you had everything well in hand and organized per their instructions, though with a few tweaks that made the process more efficient. Overall, they seemed impressed with everything that you had done.

 All that preparation lead up to the big day, July 26th, when the teams moved in. The league had them spread out so that no two teams were checking in at that same time. Tampa Bay was the first in as they traveled the furthest. "You look nervous. Why are you nervous?" Carly's voice came up from behind you as you saw the bus pulling in through the gates.

 "There's a lot riding on this Car, and if anything goes wrong; you know it's going to be my head that rolls."

 "You're going to do great; this whole thing is going to be smooth like a bubble." She started to giggle. "See what I did there…bubble." You rolled your eyes at your friend but did let out a little snort of laughter at her pun. "Well, here they come."

 You straightened your jacket and smoothed down your skirt, before throwing your mask up to go meet your first arrivals. "Gentlemen, welcome to Hotel X." You tried to speak a little louder than normal hoping the mask didn't muffle your words. "We're excited to have you all here. I'm (Y/N) manager here during your stay, anything you need, feel free to call me any time of day." More of the guys filtered in while you spoke to Coach Cooper and a few of the players.

 "Anytime huh?" you heard someone mumble in the background and a couple of the guys snickered. It was hard not to roll your eyes as you knew they were focusing on them with your face partially covered. Someone else said, "She can manage me anytime." That was until someone cleared their throat, effectively silencing them.

 "Now if you'll follow me, let's get you all checked in." Tables lined with a welcome packet and lanyard with their ID on it, were off to the side and you were able to shuffle them through with pretty good speed, then sent them off to their rooms before they had to head to testing. Your information was inside every packet, in case you were needed at any point during their stay. It seemed like you no sooner got them in and the area disinfected then the next team, the Capitals, were pulling in, and so the day went on until all five teams were safely ensconced in the hotel. Thankfully you made it through that process without any problems, even though the Bruins flight was late and the Flyers were pulling in right as you got the last players through.

 It wasn't until dinner, that you encountered your first dilemma, getting a text message from Alexis, who was coordinating the meals. It was a simple message, Get to conference room 3. NOW! As fast as your heels could take you, you headed down to where the Capitals were supposed to be having dinner if you remembered the schedule correctly. You never expected to see what you did though when you entered.

[prolestariwrites]

Triple Play

➔Fandom: Resident Evil ➔Rating: Explicit ➔Characters: Chris Redfield, Jill Valentine, Carlos Oliveira

➔Summary: Chris and Jill have been partners for years, but he never actually considered her a woman before. When he finds out more about her dating life than he ever wanted to know, it starts to make him re-evaluate his own (lack of) love life. Beta read by @solynacea. 

My first RE fic, and of course it’s a smut oneshot! Hope you all like it. It’s also on AO3, so visit me there!

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Chris remembers that Jill is a woman about two years after Raccoon City. They are finishing up a briefing and looking forward to a few days off when Capriotti makes a joke about Jill wearing lipstick. He hadn’t noticed himself, and turns his head to see that she is, indeed, wearing some color of pink on her lips. She’s also wearing eye makeup, subtle but there, and a shimmering top under her jacket. He guesses he didn’t pay close enough attention earlier, just acknowledging her when she arrived and launching into the gains they’d made until the meeting wrapped up.

Capriotti cracks a joke about a hot date, and Jill replies slyly, “Don’t you know it.”

Chris frowns as the others guys laugh. “Who is it?” Capriotti pushes.

“Yeah, I asked you out like five times,” Sami complains.

Jill makes a face. “How do you know it’s a guy?”

“It’s not?” Capriotti howls, half laughing and half in shock. “You’re not serious!”

“You afraid I’m getting more pussy than you?” she jokes.

The group continues to laugh but Chris tunes out. Jill is…? Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but how didn’t he know? Should he have known? He wishes he didn’t know now.

He gives her a little signal as the group heads out and she walks over to where he stands at the head of the table. “What’s up?” she asks.

“Uh…” Chris clears his throat, looking up to check and make sure the rest are gone. “I was just wondering… I mean, I didn’t know you were a lesbian.”

Jill’s eyes go wide and then she bursts out laughing. “Are you kidding me? I was just messing with those guys.”

“Okay. Not that you couldn’t be. I was just surprised you hadn’t mentioned it.”

Chris’s face is hot but Jill just shrugs. “Not like we have time to date. Or talk about dating. I guess it never came up.” She laughs again and shakes her head. “But no, I’m not a lesbian. If I change my mind, though, you’ll be the first to know.”

She’s teasing him, he can tell that much, but he stammers a bit as he asks, “So, who are you seeing? Someone I know?”

“Yes, actually,” she replies, with a little grin. “Carlos Oliveira.”

“Oliveira?” Chris repeats, his brows drawing together. “The guy from Raccoon City? The Umbrella guy?”

“He’s not the Umbrella guy,” Jill corrects. “But yes, him. He’s with the UN now doing anti-terrorism work. And we actually both have time off together for once, so I’m spending it with him.”

Chris nods, still trying to wrap his mind around the idea. “Didn’t realize you had stayed in touch.”

She gives a shrug. “We see each other when we can. I like him. He’s not at all like most of the guys I meet. They either want to see Miss Badass become their sex slave or want me to step on their balls.”

He goes red again at the idea. “What?”

“You know what I mean. But Carlos just wants me. It’s refreshing.” She tilts her head for a second, considering him. “You should have some fun while we have a few days off. Go out on a date or something.”

“I date,” he argues. Jill gives him a look that shows she definitely doesn’t believe that at all, so he hurries to clarify, “Plus, like you said, we don’t have time for it.”

She pats him on the arm and turns for the door. “Anything else? I have reservations.”

“No, but does that mean we’re not meeting Tuesday?” he asks.

Jill shoots him a look over her shoulder. “No, we’re not meeting on Tuesday. I’m on vacation. As are you. So no check-in this week. Plus,” she adds with a grin, “if I’m lucky, I won’t be able to walk by then.”

He makes a face, and she laughs as she heads out the door. The room is blessedly silent, but that leaves Chris with his thoughts, which are now filled with Jill on a date and that is just too weird for him. So he picks up his stuff and heads out, hurrying back to his apartment.

Yet all the way up the elevator his brain can’t stop thinking. Jill, and that guy? His partner Jill, Jill who could shoot a zombie right between the eyes at twenty yards, Jill who was the only one on the team who didn’t throw up in the sewer when they were chasing a monster that had been mutated with three different virus strains? Jill. Dating Carlos.

Chris had met him, of course, after Raccoon City. The second he had gotten word of what went down, he caught the first flight back to the States to find the rest of S.T.A.R.S. Hearing that his sister had headed that way only made his panic worse, so when he arrived at the Red Cross encampment, he was only able to stay long enough to find out that almost everyone was dead before he was getting pulled to go work. Jill had seemed fine, shaken and exhausted but okay, and she had introduced him to Carlos, saying he had saved her. But Chris’ eyes went immediately to the red and white emblem on his shoulder, and barely heard another word as he promised to check in once he got a hold of Claire.

That guy? It’s so hard to picture. He’s not even Jill’s type. Jill’s type is…

Chris draws a blank. She’s mentioned dating before, right? He frowns as the elevator slows. Maybe, maybe not? But he knows for sure she’d never go for that type, the tall-dark-and-handsome or whatever. Too cliche.

Why do you care? his brain scoffs. Not like he’s interested, which he is not. Chris clears his throat, thinking that’s even weirder. Jill is… Jill. Not a sister really, not like Claire, because he doesn’t have the undeniable instinct to protect her at any cost. He doesn’t need to, because Jill can do fine on her own. Jill is his buddy. His partner. His pal. So why do you care?

“I don’t,” he says aloud, as the elevator doors open.

There are two agents on the other side who give him a funny look, and he sheepishly steps around them. He heads to his apartment in the officers’ building, relieved when he’s finally inside. Almost two weeks off, maybe a bit more if the world doesn’t end and they aren’t needed back immediately, and Chris decides he’s going to enjoy it. He’s going to relax and do some reading and… something. He’s got two weeks to figure it out.

Go out on a date or something.

He huffs at that as he moves around his kitchen, making some pasta. Date who? Nobody on the team, and everyone else is either under him or over him, so it’s all too awkward. There is the staff at the agency who keep the machine working, and he remembers Lisa from lab reception. “See? I date,” he says to the empty apartment. He had taken Lisa out to dinner after she had dropped some subtle hints at being interested, like “Do you want to get dinner sometime?” Chris grins smugly at himself as he stirs macaroni. The relationship didn’t really go anywhere after a few months; too hard to be away for days or weeks at a time, even though Lisa was good-natured about it. She was sweet in bed too, but not exactly his style. “I date,” he says again, as if to confirm.

The pasta and sauce are ready so he takes his bowl to the living room to find a game to watch. This is how you enjoy a vacation, he decides. Feet up, comfort food, America’s pastime on television. He sinks into the cushions as the third inning starts, feeling satisfied. Better this than getting all dolled up to go out, get sweaty, and meet someone for a night that goes nowhere.

Yet all that thinking about Jill and Carlos and Lisa has made him realize it has been a while. A real long while, and when he puts aside his empty bowl his mind starts to wander. His hand rubs against his crotch, soothing the erection growing underneath his sweats, and he thinks about Lisa. Lisa with the blond curls and the little dimple on her left ass cheek. She liked him on top, but he pictures her on his lap, dragging her fingers through his hair. It’s her hand that is fisting his cock, and Chris lets go a grunt as he lifts his hips to tug the waistband down enough to free it, giving in to the fantasy.

He sighs and tilts his head back, almost feeling her hair brushing his face as she strokes him boldly. But Lisa was never exactly bold in bed, so when he opens his mind’s eye it’s not her, but Jill on his lap. She’s wearing a t-shirt pulled too tight over her chest, and when his free hand reaches out to grab onto her hip, he realizes she’s wearing nothing else.

Jill says his name with her signature smirk before kissing him, and in his confusion he accepts. His hand moves faster, the end inevitable now, and he wonders how her lean body would feel against his, so much tighter and stronger than Lisa’s soft little self. His fingers dig into his thigh just as they would dig into her hip and he comes, pleasure sharp and intense and unexpected as it runs down his fingers.

Chris opens his eyes, breathing heavily as he shakes himself back to reality. “What the fuck?” he laughs, sitting up slowly to reach for the box of tissues. He might as well be in goddamn eighth grade, getting lost in a vivid daydream like that and not having the sense to prep for cleanup. What the hell is wrong with him?

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Four days later, Chris is bored. A guy like him who is used to action doesn’t do well without anything to keep him occupied. He works out and goes shopping and works out some more, but after going down to the bar around the corner for a drink and dinner, he realizes that vacation isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. And it’s too late now to call Claire and invite her somewhere, especially since she’s in California or something.

He needs to get out of this rut, so Chris makes a decision. He sends an email to the team and invites everyone over for poker the next night. He grins as one acceptance after another comes through, jokes ranging from Captain? You dying or something? to Get your money ready, making him chuckle. But then he is surprised when Jill emails him too: I’d love to come, alright if I bring Carlos?

It’s fine, he answers back, but what happened to not being able to walk?

It takes a full five minutes to get an answer back, and Chris smirks to himself at being able to surprise Jill Valentine. But eventually she does answer: I’m a girl of many talents. Damn her.

The next night is plenty fun. He splurges on the good beer and even an excellent bottle of bourbon, figuring if he can’t spend his salary on booze, what else is there? Peterson brings cigars and there are eight of them that wind up playing, including Carlos, who fits right in with the group well enough that Chris can pretty much ignore him and the way his hand sits on Jill’s thigh.

They play a few rounds but they end up talking more than looking at cards, so the game evolves into a proper party of drinking and stories. Chris orders pizza and when it arrives, the crowd gathers in his kitchen to eat and he realizes Jill is missing. He heads down the hallway to check the bathroom but finds it empty. So is his office, and curious, he pokes his head into the bedroom. That’s also empty, but he hears something in the master bath, and without even thinking he walks through the room and opens the door.

Chris finds them alright. Carlos is fucking her against his sink, their arms locked around one another, her shirt pushed up and her jeans dangling from one knee and his jeans in a puddle around his ankles. He comes to a stop as his eyes go wide, watching in a weird moment of frozen time, noticing how they’ve knocked over his little container of cotton swabs and that the mirror is steamed up from their breath. Then Jill gives a yelp that shakes him back to present, and he gets a quick glance of Carlos’ dick pulling out of her flushed folds before yelling, “Shit, sorry!” and promptly closing the door.

He is sure his face is red when he returns to the others, but they must assume it’s the alcohol because no one says anything. Jill and Carlos join them a few minutes later, and he feels distracted, not because of what they were doing, but because he is oddly curious if they finished or not.

The evening winds down and everyone helps clean up a bit before they say their goodbyes, and somehow he ends up alone with Jill and Carlos as the only ones left. “Let me help you with this stuff,” she says, and he notes the blush on her cheeks as she fills her arms with empty bottles and cups and walks to the kitchen.

Chris is about to go after her when Carlos pats him on the arm. “Hey, man,” he says. “Sorry about earlier.”

He shakes his head. “No, it’s fine.”

“I’m so embarrassed.” Jill reappears, laughing and shaking her head. “That was not the right place or time.”

“Didn’t think anyone would catch us if we snuck off,” Carlos offers, laughing too. “You scared the hell out of us though.”

“Sorry.” Chris chuckles, thinking that this should be awkward and glad that it’s not. “Hey, at least the place saw some action. Not like there’s a lot going on in that department.”

He gives another laugh, but the other two don’t find the humor. “Don’t say that,” Carlos replies. “Guy like you is probably beating the girls off with a stick.”

“Not exactly,” Chris says. He pushes a chair under the table to cover his embarrassment. “But really, it’s fine.”

“I take full responsibility.” Carlos puts a hand up as if swearing an oath. “It was all my idea. I just can’t keep my hands off her.”

“Carlos!” Jill scolds, holding her forehead in her hand.

He points at her with a grin. “Hey, it’s not my fault. You’re fucking gorgeous. And your ass in those jeans? I mean what is a man supposed to do with that?” He turns to Chris with a smile. “I mean, you know what I mean, right man?”

“Chris doesn’t think like that,” Jill teases. “He is too respectful.”

“Well you’re disrespectful in those jeans.”

“Carlos.”

“I don’t,” Chris interjects. They both turn from their fun to look at him, and he hurries on, “I mean, think that way about Jill.”

Carlos makes a face. “What? Are you telling me you two never…?”

“Never!” laughs Jill.

“I’m surprised,” he says. “I wouldn’t be able to do a thing if I looked at her all day.”

Chris shrugs. “Sorry. I just never thought of her like that.” He glances over, surprised that she is frowning. “What? Are you mad or something?”

“No,” she protests. “But you didn’t have to be so adamant about it.”

He opens his mouth to argue before he remembers that he did, in fact, think of Jill that way, just the other day, not three feet from where they were all standing. “So you want me to then?” he laughs.

Jill rolls her eyes. “I don’t care if you do or not. All I’m saying is that if you did, you wouldn’t have to be ashamed of it.”

Chris clears his throat. “We’re partners. Not exactly appropriate.”

She sighs and walks towards him, her arms folded. “Chris, when are you gonna get over bullshit like what’s appropriate? We spend our whole lives fighting biological weapons, killing monsters, saving people. Every single day. We leave here on each mission not knowing if we’re coming back. Not knowing who is going to get infected or shot or bitten, if you’re going to have to pull the trigger or if I am.” Jill is standing in front of him now, barely an inch away, and he searches her face, wondering when this turned serious. “So when I’m not killing monsters and hunting people who want to see me dead or worse, I’m going to do what I want. I’m not spending the time I do have worrying about what’s appropriate. And if I want to have sex with someone, then I’m going to fucking have sex.”

He gives a huff, not quite a laugh, not sure what she’s trying to say. “I understand,” he replies.

“Do you?”

Now it’s his turn to roll his eyes. “Yes. As a matter of fact, I did think about you like that. Jerked off to it too.”

The words are out before he can stuff them back in, and his eyes go wide the second they are released. Panic rises in his throat for the longest second of his life as Jill’s mouth opens in an O of surprise; but then she smiles and presses her palms to his chest. “Did you really?” she asks.

“Yeah,” he chokes out.

Jill then does the last thing he expects. She leans up and kisses him, pressing her mouth firmly on his, one of her hands moving to cup the back of his neck. She should be slapping him or something, calling their supervisor, maybe shooting him? But instead she tilts her head and gives his lower lip a little bite, and a split second later he puts his arms around her waist and pulls her against him.

Her mouth opens and his follows suit. Her tongue rolls into his mouth, sliding along his, sending a little thrill up his spine. Chris realizes he had been right; she feels nothing like anyone else, her body somehow both solid and light as he presses her firmly to him.

Jill breaks the kiss suddenly, and he stares at her in shock as she blinks up at him. “Is this okay?” she asks.

Chris is about to answer when she looks to the side, and he realizes she’s talking to Carlos. He gives a start, releasing his grip; how did he forget Carlos was standing there and watching? The guy will deck him for sure.

Carlos nods, a little smile on his face. “Yeah. It’s all good.”

A million and one questions instantly flood his mind but her mouth is on his again, and Chris can’t deny the absolutely undeniable pull she has. Jill has always been like this, hasn’t she? Like a rocket, or an anchor, or a little beacon that pulses and makes people shut up and listen.

Which is what he should be doing now instead of listing adjectives in his head. “Sit,” she says, and Chris realizes she’s pulled him to the couch. Her hands push his shirt up and he helps her remove it before he sits, and Jill steps between his legs, leaning down to slide her touch along his arms.

“You good?” she asks, and her concern is almost touching.

“Yeah,” he replies.

He watches with great interest as she unbuttons her jeans and shimmies out of them, pulling her underwear down with them. Chris’ heart beats faster to see her slim thighs that curve up into perfect hips, his favorite part of a woman. Her stomach is flat with the hint of muscle underneath, her waist tiny and trim and making him start to get hard before his eyes even fall to the place between her thighs. As if she knows, Jill presses her hand against her sex, rubbing herself as she climbs onto his lap.

Her knees straddle him and she reaches for her shirt, but Chris stops her. This is it, his fantasy that he had conjured, and he takes a minute to just enjoy Jill Valentine half naked on his lap and the tight anticipation of what her chest is going to look like bare and what she is going to feel like sliding onto his dick. His hands press against her thighs and he slides them up, tracing the path his eyes took over hips and stomach and waist until he grazes the underside of her bra.

Jill shifts on his lap and Chris catches sight of Carlos. He is leaning against the table where they played cards on the other side of the room, just watching, his hand rubbing himself on the outside of his jeans. And fuck is that hot, knowing he’s watching and enjoying as he gets ready to fuck his girlfriend—what the fuck is wrong with him? He’s not this kind of guy, he doesn’t do kinky shit like this, he doesn’t get off on having sex in front of people or fucking his partner or having sex without at least buying dinner first and the pizza didn’t count at all.

“Hey,” Jill murmurs, tilting his chin up. “You still with me?”

“We really doing this?” he asks stupidly.

She snorts. “Yeah. If you want to.”

Fuck-shit-damn yes he wants to, his cock is like steel now at the very idea. He wants to do this. He wants to give up control and hand it over, stop playing by rules that don’t work and write some of his own. He wants to stop being in charge for one night and let someone else make decisions, wants to follow instead of lead, wants to be anyone other than Chris Redfield, special agent. He wants to fuck the girl every man wants as her boyfriend watches, and that nearly short circuits his thinking.

So maybe it’s not such a surprise that he says the dumbest sentence ever uttered, one that later he’ll think about and want to kick his own ass. “But you’ve already had sex tonight.”

Carlos chuckles from where he stands and Jill laughs along, stroking his cheek. “I got a special dispensation from the president,” she says, before sealing her mouth on his in a kiss.

She is cool and light against him, and Carlos was right, her ass is perfect. He grips her backside and squeezes as she grinds on his lap. Jill groans into his mouth and Chris realizes it’s because she’s rubbing herself against his erection, pressing up in a hard tent at the front of his jeans. Her fingers stroke against his shoulders and down his chest, running through the hair there and tracing along his pecs until they move lower, outlining his abdominals. She rolls her hips again and again and he can feel her getting his jeans wet, or maybe that’s him? Either way, he lets go of her long enough to open them, needing the relief more than ever.

Jill moves up on her knees to let him slide his pants down his hips, and she uses the opportunity to pull her t-shirt off over her head. Now she is left in only her bra, a lacy red thing that is so opposite of everything he knows about her that he can only stop and stare. He reaches up to carefully pull one cup down to expose her pink nipple, rubbing his thumb against the hard bud.

There is moisture leaking from the tip of his cock, and Jill uses it to stroke him, her hand tight as she pumps his length with quick, firm movements. Chris leans forward to lick her nipple, then presses his lips to her body, sucking lightly. Someone like her, would she even like the normal stuff? But she sighs in response, her other hand pressing to the back of his head to keep him there, and Chris uses his teeth and tongue to tease her until she is rubbing her sex against his.

Jill gives a groan, and he looks up to see that Carlos has moved behind her. He cups her chin up and to the side, his curls falling a bit to cover their kiss. Chris freezes momentarily, but then Carlos pulls away with a playful bite to her lip. “Does he feel good?” he murmurs.

“I can’t wait anymore,” Jill pants.

Carlos reaches into his pocket and pulls out a condom, handing it to her between two fingers. Jill snatches it and smiles at Chris as she tears it open, and he leans back on the couch, pressing his hands to the cushion. He watches in a sort of daze as she rolls it down his length, anticipation tightening his stomach as she leans up and angles him against her body before finally sinking down around him.

Chris lets out a hiss of pleasure as he throws his head back. Jill’s mouth is hot on his neck as she works to take him in, but with her slick body and the lubricated condom he slips inside with little trouble. She squeezes tightly around him, nearly taking his ability to breathe, before she pulls back and braces her hands on his shoulders.

When she starts to move, he risks a peek, groaning as the sight of her sends a jolt of excitement straight through his cock. Carlos is kissing her shoulder, undoing her bra and pulling it down her arms to toss it away before he grabs her bare breasts. She reaches up one arm to wrap around his neck as the other digs hard into Chris’ shoulder, and he watches in rapt attention as she fucks him while Carlos fondles her chest, delivering open mouthed kisses along her neck. Chris reaches up and presses his hands to her waist, dragging them over her hips as his eyes go downwards and giving another groan when his gaze falls on where they are joined, his cock disappearing in between her lips.

Jill stops the roll of her hips momentarily, keeping him buried inside of her, and he can feel her nearly pulsing around him. “She’s close,” Carlos says roughly, and Chris’ eyes snap up to his when he realizes he’s talking to him.

“Already?” he pants. Carlos nods, and Chris huffs a laugh. “So am I.”

Jill grins, opening her eyes as she bites her lower lip. “Can’t let this end too fast.”

She pushes off of him to stand, and Chris swallows a protest, his cock bobbing when it is released. But Jill grabs his pants and pulls them down his legs, and once they are removed she kneels on the carpet, carefully pulling the condom away. “I bet you taste delicious,” she says, and his eyes nearly roll back into his head when she lowers her lips onto his length.

Jill sucks him hungrily, making his head spin. Chris jerks upwards into her mouth, but fists his hands into the couch to let her work. Behind her, Carlos has pulled out his own cock and is stroking it freely, watching with dark, hooded eyes. “You’re so beautiful,” he groans before going down on his knees.

As Carlos pushes her thighs apart and pulls her hips upwards, her moan vibrates along his cock as she swallows him completely. Her eyes squeeze shut as she sucks for as long as she can before coming up for breath, panting against his wet length as Carlos starts to fuck her from behind. “Slow,” she pants, and Carlos instantly eases his pace. Her eyes meet Chris’ and stay there as she rolls her tongue around the head of his cock; then she is swallowing him again, the sensation nearly driving him mad with desire. It strikes him that he never understood before why someone would want it like this, least of all a woman, finding porn like this vulgar and strange: but now he realizes that it’s because she’s in control, with two men ready to worship her body, and Chris is willing to give her anything in this moment.

Soon he is close again, and he hisses her name. Jill pulls off and grips his cock, stroking him quickly as her mouth drops down to press her tongue against his sac. Carlos starts to move faster, drawing a whine from Jill’s throat, and when she shudders against him, Chris realizes she’s coming. It sends him right over the edge, his body tightening almost painfully before his seed spills out in a great spurt that she quickly moves her mouth to swallow. Carlos holds her firmly by the waist as she trembles, but Chris can only focus on her lips sliding along his cock in time with the pulsing that rocks deeply through him. He lifts his hips to push in further with the final waves of pleasure, and Jill swallows him with a sigh that she releases when he finally slides his cock from her mouth.

Carlos pulls her closer to him, and he muffles a groan against her shoulder as he jerks his hips. Jill looks up at Chris, their eyes locking as she licks her lips, and Chris swallows thickly, knowing Carlos is finishing inside of her. His erection is softening, but not nearly as fast as it usually does, and when she turns her face to kiss Carlos and he watches her tongue slide into his mouth, his cock jerks uncomfortably.

She laughs a bit when Carlos finally releases her. “Damn,” Carlos sighs, rubbing her arms. “So fucking hot. Told ya, man.”

He is grinning at Chris, who nods, rubbing the palm of his hand on his forehead. “Yeah,” he agrees lamely.

It feels so damn awkward now, but the other two don’t seem fazed, climbing to their feet as they chuckle together. Carlos yanks up his jeans before grabbing Jill, pulling her into a deep kiss as Chris looks up and watches. He remembers how he couldn’t believe they’d be together just days ago, and now he knows what an absolute idiot he is.

“Carlos and I are driving down the coast tomorrow,” Jill says, turning to look at him as Carlos kisses her neck. “Do you want to come? Spend a few days on the beach?”

“With you two?” he asks stupidly. Carlos lifts his head and Chris holds up a hand. “Yeah. Dumb question. Sorry.”

He stands awkwardly, wanting to put on some clothes, but Jill slides her hand over his hip. “Well? Do you want to come?”

The question makes his neck heat, and he nods. “Sure. Why not.”

“Good,” Carlos says.

They banter a bit as they get dressed, Chris just listening as he tries to figure out what to say. He spots the condom on the floor and quickly picks it up, and when he returns from throwing it away Carlos is at the door, grabbing his jacket. “Hey,” Jill says, stepping up to press her hand on his chest, just like she had before. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Chris answers. “I’m fine.”

“Be ready by ten.” Then she gives him a wink and they head out the door, Carlos slinging his arm around her shoulder as he gives a wave.

The door shuts behind them, leaving the apartment in silence and Chris standing with his pants half undone. “See? I have sex,” he says to the room.

[sithsecrets]

A Matter of Expediency - Part X

After being married off to Kylo Ren in the name of securing an heir to the First Order’s throne, a princess tries to navigate the ins and outs of married life. As she grows closer to her new husband, the princess also carves out a place for herself in the Order, assuming control over her life when she thought she would have none.

---

Part 10

4.8k words

Mentions: graphic depictions of sex, mild gore, blood, swearing

---

The Chairwoman doesn’t deign to insult you for the remainder of the week, and even her cruelty towards others is dulled quite a bit when she’s simply in your presence. You would revel in your victory a bit more if you weren’t so busy, suddenly slammed with a new influx of proposal and funding requests from a planet named Palgodu. This just so happens to be where Kylo and his Knights have been out “scouting,” and you’re sure that the two things are closely related. You don’t have much time to muse on it, though, bogged down in files and appeal letters.

You work alone, mostly, cloistered in a private office that Hux offered you several weeks ago. It’s a relatively small space, plain in furnishing and decoration, but you like it that way. There are no distractions there, no prying eyes, no board members or diplomats to perform for— you get real work done at your desk, work that matters. Some of it is tedious, but you’re happy to be busy.

On Kylo’s fourth day away, two stormtroopers come to collect you, saying that your husband is back and requesting that you meet his party in hangar five. You drop everything upon hearing this news, rushing off at once to meet his husband and his party. Nervous energy buzzes all throughout your body, composed of equal parts fear and excitement; on one hand, you’re elated that Kylo’s returned, but you’re also terrified to see what sort of condition he’s come home in.

Just as you suspected, the lot of them look absolutely awful. The smell of blood and death and earth hangs heavy in the air around your husband and his companions, nearly making you gag as draw nearer to their vessel. They are caked in dirt, crusted in the very lifeforce of their slain enemies, but it’s the slashes and tears in their clothes that make your breath really catch in your throat. Kylo is not uninjured either, sporting a gash on his left arm and right side. He’s standing, thank the stars, lucid and calm— all of the Knights are that way too, long accustomed to violence and pain.

Kylo is your primary concern, of course, and you fuss over him openly, the spectators be damned. “What happened?” you demand. “Who attacked you?”

Your husband’s skin is grimy under your fingers, sweat and dirt soiling the cuffs of your sleeves as you press your palms against his face, making quick study of a scrape on his jaw.

“An insurgent faction,” Kylo replies, answering your question as if you just asked him what he had for breakfast.

The cuts on his arm and side draw your attention next, and you’re only half paying attention as he goes on to say that Palgodu’s leader requested the Order’s help in crushing an uprising that was ripping the planet apart. Kylo doesn’t even wince as you press a hand against the wound on his ribs, though you’re horrified to see your fingers come back slick with blood.

Kylo insists that he’s fine, unflinching as you beg him to go to the medbay. He says that the two of you must speak at once and that he wants to do so in your quarters away from prying eyes and ears. But you stand your ground, only cutting him the slightest bit of slack. Finally, Kylo capitulates to your demands, saying that he’ll be seen by a medical droid in your rooms if you go away with him now.

Your husband begins stripping down the second he gets into the ‘fresher, only stopping to set aside his helmet and lightsaber before he begins pulling apart his outfit. You try to help, his filthy clothes soiling your dress as you get him out of his pants, his undershirt. Kylo’s pained grunts are distressing to say the least, and you can’t even look at the purple-red patchwork of bruises that cover his body. The fact that your husband’s even standing right now is a miracle to you, given the beating he’s taken.

Though he declines your offer to help him bathe, Kylo does ask you to send for a hot meal. You do as he says without question, ordering dinner for yourself as well even though you’re too sick to eat at the moment. The medbay says that they’ll send a droid immediately after you contact them, and then you’re out of tasks to complete, left to anxiously chew on your nails as Kylo finishes washing the grime off his body.

When Kylo hobbles out of the ‘fresher, you insist on helping him dress, too frenzied to sit idle as he struggles to pull on a set of his night clothes. The medical droid chooses to appear just as your finishing up, rolling into the room almost on cue. Wordlessly, the little machine applies bacta and bandages to your husband’s worst injuries, leaving as quietly as it came. Another droid arrives almost immediately with your meals, and only when you’ve got Kylo settled at the dining room table do you feel like you’re ready to receive and understand information again.

“What happened on Palgodu?” you ask, only vaguely remembering what Kylo said earlier about civil war and the like.

Your husband eats ravenously, answering your question through a mouthful of food. “The King of Palgodu has been battling a faction of his own people that want to overthrow him. He contacted the Order and asked us to help him crush this insurgency, and myself and the Knights agreed to do so on the grounds that Palgodu come under the Order’s control.”

Your brow draws together, questioning. “What do they have to offer us in return?”

Kylo shakes his head a bit, already scraping his plate clean. “It’s not so much what the king has to offer as it is how we benefit from destroying the rebels on his planet. They meant to wage war with two other planets in the same solar system, but the king refused to offer his support. Stopping them or negotiating peace treaty would have been a much more taxing than simply snuffing out the warmongering at its source.”

You remember the bruises on Kylo’s body, the way his gash in his side wept blood until the medical droid attended to it. Your apprehension about Kylo’s choices and ideas must show on your face, too, because he moves to explain himself further.

“Palgodu’s current king is a fair, peaceful man loved by the majority of his subjects. The rebels were power-hungry and thirsty for blood. The plants they had their sights on are weak, impoverished places with little in the way of a military. We intercepted intel that said the insurgents were planning to use the inhabitants as slaves.”

“That sounds more like a conquest than a war,” you say then, horrified by the notion of such a plan. You had been afraid at first that Kylo and his Knights ran off for something trivial, but now that you know the truth, you’re relieved that they acted so quickly. Still, something nags at you. “Why didn’t you just tell me all of that? Why lie about the scouting mission?”

Kylo nods, becoming a bit more reserved as he regards you now. “I… I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to worry.”

“Yes,” you say sarcastically, “it’s only a bit of combat.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Kylo insists, and you could just about slap him if you weren’t so relieved to have in safe in front of you.

“The wounds and bruises on your body beg to differ, Supreme Leader. I would have liked to know that you were in danger.”

You do that sometimes, poke fun at Kylo with his title. He’s used to it by now, huffing out a sigh as he apologizes. “Next time I’ll be more transparent,” he promises.

“Good,” you affirm, nodding as you sit back in your chair.

Kylo eyes your dinner, the meal virtually untouched in front of you. He digs in hungrily after you push the plate his way, scarfing it down as if he didn’t just finish eating ten minutes ago.

“When was the last time you ate?” you ask softly, heart clenching in your chest. This is exactly the sort of thing you’d been worried about, your husband being hungry, or cold, or hurt. Kylo’s indifferent shrug only serves to make you sadder, and you find yourself almost in tears as take in the bruises on his knuckles, the scrapes on his face.

You want to tell your husband everything in that moment. You want to tell him how you feel, how you missed him while he was gone, how you wanted to throw your arms around him right there in front of everybody in the hangar. But you don’t want to ruin anything, don’t want to be too sickly sweet, so you opt to say nothing at all.

Done with his second dinner now, Kylo pushes the plate and silverware away from him. The look in his eyes is softer now, gentler, and he beckons you over. “Come here,” he says, “come closer to me.”

You do as Kylo asks, coming to stand beside his chair. He shifts a bit, turning to face you completely. “I ruined your dress,” your husband states, eyes flitting down to the stains all over your sleeves and bodice.

You make a flippant gesture, unbothered. “I have others.”

“Still, I apologize.” He reaches for your hands, clasping them gently in his own. “Will you come take a bath with me?”

Though you’re more than willing to soak in the tub with your husband, you can’t help but remind him that he did just take a shower.

“My body hurts,” Kylo explains, and it’s only then that you notice how exhausted he truly is.

Kylo helps you unlace your dirty dress as the tap runs, filling the bathtub with hot water. It’s a large fixture, wide enough to accommodate both you and your husband as the you step in. Steam wafts about the two of you, fogging up every mirror in the room and sticking little tendrils of hair to your face and neck. Afraid you’ll prod one of his bruises, you’re reluctant to crawl into Kylo’s lap the way he wants you to.

“You couldn’t possibly hurt me right now,” he insists, settling you so that you’re straddled across the width of his thighs. You half expect him to grope you then, to husk in your ear that he’d like to fuck you if you’d let him the way Kylo so often does when he gets you in this position. So it’s quite a pleasant surprise when your husband tucks your head under his chin instead, wrapping you up in his arms rather gently.

“The King Palgodu has decided to take those two little planets under his wing,” he says, apropos of nothing. “He and his wife would like to host a benefit with the Order’s help in order to raise funding for new schools.”

You look up at Kylo then, smiling a bit. “I’ve always wanted to plan a party,” you say softly.

“I figured as much,” Kylo replies, reaching up to brush some of your hair out of your face with wet fingers. He’s smiling, actually smiling for once, and the very sight of him makes your heart sing.

Curling back up against your husband’s chest once more, you card your fingers through his hair idly. Even injured and exhausted, he is still so solid beneath you, so unyielding. It’s so lovely to be held like this, to be cradled in Kylo’s arms. You are safe here with him, safe in this moment of peace.

“I missed you,” you whisper, finally feeling as though it’s okay to admit how you feel.

Your husband’s hand is warm on your back, palm making long, gentle strokes up and down your spine. “I thought of you each day,” he murmurs, drawing you even closer to his body.

Something goes unspoken between the two of you then, the message translated through touch instead of words. Kylo tilts your face up gently, kissing you the way you’ve been dying to be kissed for days. He’s far too tired to have sex, he tells you as much himself, but the two of you make out anyway, tongues sliding together as your hands roam without purpose or intent. It’s bliss, letting your lover lick into your mouth as you revel in the fact that he’s safe beneath you, safe safe safe.

The two of you are pruny and drowsy when you finally dry off and stumble to bed, snuggling up like puppies together under the comforter. Kylo passes out almost immediately as if he’s never slept before in his life, and you aren’t far behind him.

For the first time in days, the two of you rest.

---

It’s a wonder what a good night’s sleep can do! you think as you breeze into the Board’s usual meeting room, entering in a swirl of crimson gown with a smile gracing your face. Despite your pleasant demeanor, the Chairwoman and her lapdogs still track your movements with caution, poised to defend themselves should you choose to strike in any manner. You’ve been an absolute menace towards the lot of them these past few days, mood soured by lack of sleep and Kylo’s absence. You don’t intend to be any nicer to them now that he’s back, of course, but you still think it appropriate to internally acknowledge your own behavior.

“Good morning!” you sing-song, sliding into your chair happily as you regard the table. Hux smiles one of his reserved smiles, and some of your other friends on the Board do the same. Evan, though, she remains timid and complacent, not saying a word. She’s been like this since you threatened to make her a mute, lacking in smart comments and little quips meant to upset you (or anyone else for that matter)— you simply wouldn’t have her any other way.

Planning for the Palgodu benefit gets underway quickly, everyone diligent in their work as the lot of you field ideas for a guest list, potential donors, locations, and the like. Several of your most dependable Board members feel confident that they can garner interest in the Palgodu cause from planets in the Major Possessions, and Hux speaks highly of several wealthy Order loyalists.

You’re pleased with the group’s progress, though you will be doing some planning of your own in your office this afternoon. There’s catering to think about, and press coverage, and you of course you have to doublecheck that the Palgoduan team approves of your choices thus far. Still, you dismiss the Board before your regular lunchtime, satisfied for now.

However, there’s one last thing you need from a particularly prominent member of your posse.

“Chairwoman,” you call, stopping the woman in question before she can slip out of your field of vision.

Halting at the call of her title, Evan comes to stand before you, still on her best behavior. “Yes, Empress?”

“I know you have connections to several mineral magnates,” you say, cutting the Chairwoman off when she moves to speak. “Please, don’t dispute the truth.”

Your foe’s mouth presses into a thin line at this, but no words leave her lips. She’s fuming, absolutely seething with rage at the fact that you’re about to exploit one of her little not-secrets. The Chairwoman thinks she’s so slick, running around behind closed door with these wealthy men and even their sons. It’s the kind of thing that won’t ruin her, should it ever come into the light, but you just know that she would sooner die than have everyone know her business.

Luckily, this particular weakness works in your favor.

“Yes,” Evan admits evenly, “I know several barons on Valdera and other such planets.”

You quirk one eyebrow, nodding in satisfaction. “Excellent,” you declare. “I want you to convince them all to donate a ridiculous amount of money to this cause. They certainly have the credits to spare, and I think it’s about time the big boys shared a bit with the little guys.”

The Chairwoman swallows heavily, cutting her eyes to the side. “Empress, I don’t know—”

“Nonsense!” you exclaim, mock confident as you rise from your chair. “You’re a resourceful woman, Evan! I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

You place a pat on her arm, satisfied when the Chairwoman flinches away from you just the slightest bit. She’s fifteen seconds from flying into a fit it would seem, her emotions bubbling and boiling just beneath the surface as she curtsies and wishes you a good day. But still, Evan leaves you without another word, stomping out of the room to go whatever it is she does in her free time.

Lunch is a hurried affair, just you and Hux scarfing down something easy before you go your separate ways. Full and refreshed, you practically barricade yourself in your office, sending coms and poring over data lists as you try to work out the finer details for the benefit ball. A date is set, one that will come up on your fast if you let it, and you’re only further motivated to get all of their other details fleshed out once messages of approval start flooding in from the Palgodu team. Over and over, they tell you how grateful they are for your help, and it pleases you to know that you’ve secured more positive connections for the Order.

Time gets away from you, the hours passing in flurries of paperwork and research. The sound of a knock at your door disorients you, the jolt of your body nearly sending you to the floor. Abandoning your desk, you go to the portal to see who’s there, the muscles in your legs straining from lack of use.

Kylo’s is the last face you were expecting to see on the other side, but he’s a pleasant surprise nonetheless.

“So this is where you’ve been,” your husband says in lieu of a greeting, peering at your little office over your shoulder.

“What do you—?”

One glance at the chronometer on the wall shows you that it’s late, later than you’ve ever worked before. You turn back to Kylo at once, flooded with embarrassment and remorse.

“Oh stars,” you breathe. “I missed dinner! I’m so sorry, Kylo, I was just working and—”

Your husband cuts you off, crowding into your space to steal a kiss from your rambling lips. “Mm, don’t worry about it,” he mumbles, still trying to press his mouth against yours even as you fight to apologize again. “The Chancellor told me that you were doing important work. I just came to check on you.”

You blush at that, happy to kiss Kylo back now that you know his feelings aren’t hurt. His affection and concern for you is intoxicating and just the slightest bit jarring, for he never behaves this way outside the bedroom. You can’t help but think of last night, of what was said in the bathtub, and you even allow yourself to get your hopes up a bit. Maybe your husband’s finally opening up…

“I can leave you alone now if you want to continue working,” Kyle declares, arms laced around your middle. “I just wanted to make sure you hadn’t died in here.”

It’s his version of a joke, and the sentiment does make you giggle.

“I should probably be done for the day,” you concede, suddenly tired. Your stomach rumbles beneath your bodice, lunch but a distant memory now.

“Please, don’t let me stop you,” your husband insists, brushing a lock of hair away from your face. You let him, shaking your head.

“No, no. I’m starving, and I really was looking forward to spending the evening with you.”

Your voice is soft, husky even, as you tell Kylo that last part. You missed him very much while he was gone, that’s for sure, and in more than one way… To say that you’d like for him to take you to bed now would be an understatement.

Luckily, your husband seems to understand what you mean. He presses your body more firmly against his, hands settling low on your hips. “What did you have in mind?”

Kylo’s eyes are dark, and his mouth quirks into a smirk as you scoff. “You know,” you say, giving him a playful bat on the chest. But then you remember his wounds, the bruises and the scrapes, and you feel selfish. “If you’re still in pain, though, we don’t—”

“Oh, my love,” Kylo chides, and stars does the pet name make your face hot, “I had every intention of fucking you senseless tonight as it was. I’m just glad to hear that you’re similarly inclined.”

---

You’re on Kylo from the minute you both get back to your quarters, kissing him and biting him and fumbling with all of the buttons and stays keeping him trapped in his clothes. He’s just as hungry for you, his desperation showing in the slide of his mouth and hands, but it would seem that he has a particular set of ideas about how he wants tonight to go.

“Slow down,” your husband commands, gently pushing you off of him. The noise you let out as you land on the foot of the bed is pathetic and so, so very discontent, your kiss-bitten mouth molding into a pout. Kylo shakes his head at you, lips quirking up into a smirk. “We have all night, darling. Don’t look so upset, you’ll get what you want.”

“But I want you now,” you whine, pulling at your husband’s belt, palming him through the front of his pants. It’s a cheap trick and you know it, but still, you hope it works anyway.

Kylo’s not swayed in the slightest, however, catching your wrist. “And you’ll get me,” he promises, slowly sinking to his knees before you. His eyes are so very dark as he reaches out, grasping your bare foot delicately in his hand. “Just be patient, please.”

It’s not every day that you hear the Supreme Leader say “please,” and though you want nothing more than to feel his cock in your body, you decide to indulge your husband in this little game.  And really, how could you complain when his lips are so soft on the top of your foot, on your ankle, on your calf. Even the way Kylo shoves your dress up your leg is sweet and deliberate, and all you can do is sigh and suck in deep breathes as he presses kisses all along your flesh.

“Tell me what you want,” your husband mumbles, speaking against the side of your knee. He cuts his eyes your way, nipping you so suddenly that your whole body jolts in shock.

“I… I want you,” you breathe, chest heaving. You shouldn’t be this affected after just a few chaste kisses, but Kylo is such a tease, he knows just how to make you squirm.

Another kiss, this time further up your leg, and then, “Oh darling, I know that. But what do you want me to do to you?”

He’s a cruel man, your husband, a real sadist. He knows very well that you’re awful at this part, that you stutter and stammer whenever you try to make the smallest of demands. You took to riding Kylo and sucking his cock without much difficulty, you could (and have) let him fuck you for hours without complaint, but talking dirty and saying what you want has never been easy for you.

You’re really flustered now, pulse pounding so hard that you think you can hear it in your ears. “Kylo, please, I…”

“You’re the Empress,” he reminds you. The callouses on his palm are maddening, the sensation of them scraping against your skin making your cunt twitch. You don’t even want to think about how wet you are right now, how you’re probably staining your dress. “You can have whatever you want if you simply ask for it.”

Stars do you want this man, you want him to fucking ruin you.

Kylo turns his focus back on your flesh, kissing across your thigh until you can feel his nose almost in the crease of your leg. He’s so close to your cunt, all he would have to do is turn his head and he could suck right on your swollen clit, but he doesn’t, the infuriating little fucker. The tease of it all is enough to make you feral, to almost unhinge you completely. For two seconds, you consider just jerking Kylo around by his hair, consider making him put his mouth on you, some previously unknown part of your mind arresting your thoughts for just a moment until Kylo speaks.

“I am your husband,” he tells you, suddenly more solemn than flirty. “You can say anything to me. I want to hear it.”

You hesitate for just one second more, finally cracking when Kylo’s tongue darts out across your skin.

“I want you to fuck me,” you say slowly, your own words making your cheeks burn in embarrassment. “I… From behind. I want you to fuck me from behind, but I want to finish on my back.”

Your husband stares up at you, eyes so dark with lust as he nods. He looks so pleased, so happy. “Where do you want me to cum?” he asks, finally pushing your dress all the way up now. You’re already pulling at your underwear, cunt drooling from the anticipation of what’s to come.

“Inside me,” you answer promptly, palms sweating as you remember how hot hot hot you feel whenever Kylo paints your insides.

He must finally be satisfied, because Kylo says nothing after that, finally burying his face between your thighs. You nearly burst into tears, so utterly relieved as he laps at your clit, shrugging out of his outer layers as he does it.

The two of you are wild that night, fucking like animals for what feels like hours. Kylo listens to you, he keeps all of his promises, pulling your hips against his harshly as you press your face into the comforter. But he puts you on your back before he cums, of course, dutiful in following your directions. Your husband is so good to you, thumbing at your clit until you cum for the second time that night before he lets go himself, biting down hard on his lip as he watches you writhe. Only when you’re panting and trying to come back to reality does Kylo spill his seed inside of you, flooding your body as he grunts and holds you in place hard enough to leave bruises. You clutch onto Kylo as soon as he hits the bed beside you, carding your fingers through his hair. Both of you need a shower, or least a onceover with a wet washcloth, and the bed is absolutely destroyed— but stars are you happy, happy and satiated and too tired to move from this spot.

Finally, though, you do get out of bed, stumbling into the ‘fresher with your husband at your side. Kylo makes you drink a whole glass of water, gulping one down himself while the shower gets hot. Neither one of you is in the mood to linger beneath the spray, but you do help each other bathe, soapy hands sliding over skin as you take note of new love bites and bruises.

As per usual, the bed is clean when you and Kylo emerge, the sheets fresh and the comforter set back in place. You and Kylo fall into it together again, dressed in loose comfortable clothes as you revel in the aftermath of your lovemaking. Kylo lets your slump across his chest, petting your hair languidly. Neither of you says anything for a while, content to lie together in silence.

The large window in your quarters draws your attention, and you stare out at the glittering expanse of space all around the Supremacy. Even after all these weeks, you haven’t gotten used to this, drifting amongst and the planets and moons and stars of the galaxy. You find yourself missing sunshine often, tired of artificial light. And weather, too— your heart aches for rain.

Outside the wide, tall pane of transperisteel, two patrol vessels zip past, making their usual rounds around the Supremacy’s massive body. The image of this sparks a memory, reminds you of something Hux told you in passing days ago.

“Don’t you fly?” you ask suddenly, addressing your husband. Kylo’s hand stills in your hair, and he tilts his face down to look at you.

“Yes,” he affirms, “since I was a teenager.”

You snuggle against Kylo’s chest, still staring out at the blackness. “You should take me out one day.”

Kylo settles in bed a bit, now looking out the window himself. “Would you like to go now?”

[tabloidtoc]

Globe, January 4

You can buy a copy of this issue for your very own at my eBay store: https://www.ebay.com/str/bradentonbooks

Cover: Ghislaine Maxwell buying her way out of prison

Page 2: Up Front & Personal -- Gavin Rossdale playing tennis with his pup Chewy, Brooke Burke holding holiday balls topless, James Franco takes his cellphone into the sea 

Page 3: Leighton Meester surfing in Malibu, Robbie Williams, Lisa Rinna wearing two masks 

Page 4: Angelina Jolie is bracing for major humiliation after being dragged into Johnny Depp’s latest legal showdown with ex-wife Amber Heard -- Angie’s run-ins with Johnny who she starred with in 2010′s The Tourist are coming under intense scrutiny as Depp gears for a second court battle with Amber -- Angie and Johnny were so coy about their white-hot connection at the time even though their romance was an open secret but they got lucky because nobody had the smoking gun to prove it but now it’ll all come out in the open -- at the time Johnny was still dating Vanessa Paradis while Angie was five years into her doomed love-in with Brad Pitt -- there’s talk bisexual Amber was kind of obsessed with Angie so Angie is central to the plotline whether she likes it or not

Page 5: The Bachelor host Chris Harrison is worried he’ll follow Dancing with the Stars host Tom Bergeron out the door -- both these shows have been on TV forever and the world has changed around them and to keep up with Black Lives Matter and the #MeToo movement changes are being discussed and that’s left Chris fearing he’ll be the next Tom Bergeron and replaced by a woman of color 

Page 6: Aging divas Loretta Lynn and Dolly Parton are caught in a bitter country catfight and long-dead Patsy Cline is the excuse -- although there’s been little love lost between the Nashville icons for nearly 50 years their simmering feud exploded weeks ago when Dolly apparently took some veiled public shots at Loretta’s BFF Patsy who was horribly disfigured in a car wreck two years before dying in a 1963 plane crash -- in an interview Dolly recalled standing in the wings of Nashville’s Grand Ole Opry at age 13 and watching Patsy perform and she remembered thinking about how awful it was that she got her pretty face scarred up like that -- Loretta was fit to be tied over the comments Dolly made about her old pal and thinks Dolly should stop running her mouth about Nashville legends like Patsy and Johnny Cash -- Dolly’s heard about Loretta’s complaints through the grapevine and brushes them off as quarantine boredom mixed with old age 

Page 8: Blake Shelton’s going bonkers after fiancee Gwen Stefani told him she wants to skip the mega-million star-studded wedding shindig he’s been planning and elope -- Blake is all bent out of shape over Gwen’s latest switcheroo which calls for them to get hitched on the sly at a Mexican resort and she’s got him so mixed up he can’t think straight because for the longest time she wanted the Hollywood-style wedding with all the bells and whistles and was very particular about details but now she’s telling him to ditch those plans which have already cost them a small fortune and book a trip somewhere exotic so they can just just get it over with -- Gwen wants to elope so they can hitched at the Riviera Maya resort in Cancun where they could swap vows on the beach witnessed by her three sons and Blake has no choice but to give in to Gwen and he’s saying he’s fine with it as long as she’s sure this time 

Page 9: Hollywood horndog John Mayer is back sniffing around old flame Jennifer Aniston after his mom gave him a shove -- John and Jen had a steamy fling for about a year before he dropped her in 2009 and now John’s mom Margaret Meyer is scolding him for letting Jen go and John’s mom is always on him about settling down and she feels that at 43 he should be married and she recently had a heart-to-heart talk with him and told him she thought Jennifer was the most down-to-earth of all his exes and because John considers his mom one of the smartest people he knows he decided to reach out to Jen and he’s always admired Jen and thought of her as a classy lady and now he’s reaching out to her again in hopes of getting her to agree to see him again once things leave lockdown 

* FKA Twigs has socked actor Shia LaBeouf with a bombshell lawsuit claiming he subjected her to relentless physical, emotional and mental abuse and gave her an STD and she also accuses him of sexual battery, assault, and infliction of emotional distress -- although Shia says she’s lying Twigs insists Shia once choked her in the middle of the night and kept a loaded firearm by the bed leaving her terrified to get up at night for fear he’d think she was an intruder and shoot her -- she claims during an incident around Valentine’s Day 2019 Shia threatened to crash his speeding car unless she professed her love for him so when he pulled into a gas station she got out of the car but he threw her against the car while screaming in her face then forced her back into the car -- Shia also had rules about how often Twigs had to kiss and touch him -- Shia has been arrested several times on now-dismissed charges including assault and disorderly conduct 

Page 10: John Lennon didn’t have to die -- that’s law enforcement experts’ explosive analysis after reviewing newly discovered evidence about the Beatles legend’s December 8, 1980 murder in NYC -- an odd series of coincidences and simple decisions put Lennon and his killer Mark David Chapman in the same place at the same time -- a review of the details concludes Lennon’s death was a strange result of flukes including his penchant for running around without protection and a missed appointment with his photographer and without these quirks of fate John would still be alive and recording hit songs 

Page 12: Celebrity Buzz -- Pink flashes her bandaged thumb after getting stitches in Santa Monica (picture), Amanda Seyfried confesses she made a terrible decision for turning down the role of a lifetime as Chris Pratt’s love interest in Guardians of the Galaxy and now she’s watching from the sidelines as the director’s second choice Zoe Saldana skyrockets in the money-making Marvel franchise, Katherine Heigl will star in the upcoming limited biopic series Woodhull about Victoria Woodhull the first woman to run for president in 1872, Big Brother alum Zach Rance has come out as bisexual after admitting a sizzling same-sex romance with his former reality show housemate Frankie Grande who is the real-life older brother of pop star Ariana Grande

Page 13: Jaime King slurps down a meal on the streets on L.A. (picture), Jax Taylor mowing the lawn (picture), Guns N’ Roses axman Slash loads up on supplies at an L.A. grocery (picture), former teen heartthrob Chad Michael Murray admits his inflated young ego got the best of him and now he looks at photos of himself and thinks what a dweeb

Page 14: Julia Roberts is headed for the small screen headlining the limited TV series The Last Thing He Told Me where she’ll form an unexpected relationship with her teenage stepdaughter while searching for the truth about her husband’s mysterious disappearance, Emma Stone is also heading for the flat-screen in the comedy series The Curse alongside Nathan Fielder about a couple starring on an HGTV-style show who are trying to conceive a child amid an alleged curse, Nicolas Cage is hosting a new series called The History of Swear Words in which he’ll delve into the origins and pop culture usage and science and cultural impact of profanely shocking expletives

* Fashion Police -- Peyton List 8/10, Sofia Carson 9/10, Vanessa Hudgens 2/10, Neve Campbell 1/10, Chelsea Handler 4/10 

Page 16: Cover Story -- Jeffrey Epstein’s madam Ghislaine Maxwell’s $30M jail break -- terrified and tortured Ghislaine risks family fortune to buy her freedom -- the accused sex predator and her fat cat inner circle are set to plunk down an obscene $30 million to buy her way out of federal prison in what outraged investigators fear is a brazen plot to cheat justice 

Page 19: 10 Things You Don’t Know About Mayim Bialik

* Lizzo is admitting she’s having negative thoughts and is hating her 300-pound body but adds she knows she beautiful

* The Spice Girls were likely liquored up on cut-rate champagne when they made their first album according to Emma Bunton a.k.a. Baby Spice who says she and her bandmates swilled the cheapest sparkling wine in the studio 

Page 20: True Crime -- a chilling message left by the elusive Zodiac Killer has finally been cracked by a team of code breakers after 51 years -- a hodgepodge of numbers, symbols and letters called the 340 cipher was sent to the San Francisco Chronicle in 1969 and lawmen believed it contained key clues to the serial killer’s identity but the truth is even more chilling -- according to the experts the message says I hope you are having lots of fun in trying to catch me, I am not afraid of the gas chamber because it will send me to paradise all the sooner because I now have enough slaves to work for me 

Page 21: Caitlyn Jenner is terrified after learning her skin cancer has returned a second time -- she was diagnosed with basal cell skin cancer a few years ago and had an entire layer of skin removed from her nose -- since then she’s been slathering on sunscreen but a new red spot on the right side of her nose popped up along with some crusty areas on her scalp but the nose patch was not cancer but hypertrophic keratosis or scaly damage from sun exposure -- however the dozen spots on the top of her head was squamous cell carcinoma which is a skin cancer that’s known to be aggressive so her doctor burned off the offending spots -- her doctor recommended she replace her 1960 Austin-Healey convertible but the chances of Caitlyn selling her prized ride are slim 

Page 23: Your 2021 Horoscope -- love, luck, health, wealth, happiness -- plus surprising celebrity predictions -- Elton John, Valerie Bertinelli, Johnny Depp, Jessica Simpson, Matthew Perry, Cameron Diaz, Will Smith, Katy Perry, Howie Mandel, Savannah Guthrie, Justin Timberlake, Carrie Underwood 

Page 30: Larry King has reached a deal with estranged wife Shawn but she’s royally peeved about the payoff -- Larry has agreed to pay her a lump sum of $20,000 plus $33,000 a month in spousal support which lasts until at least their next scheduled hearing in April but Shawn claims the 33Gs only covers a third of her monthly nut which includes $25,000 for rent on her home, $12,000 on clothes, $3500 on groceries and $4500 for hair and nails and pet care and gym 

Page 31: Kim Kardashian is reading husband Kanye West the riot act over his junk food benders that are sabotaging her healthy eating program and it’s led to more than a few arguments with no peace in sight -- he’s telling her to chill and let him live by his own terms but she can’t do that because it’s driving her crazy -- what really ticks Kim off is his junk food has totally taken over her section of fresh cut veggies, fruits and water and she wants him to get his own storage in a different part of the house where she won’t have to see it or hold her nose 

* Kardashian momager Kris Jenner’s faux reality TV home is on the market for nearly $8 million even though she never lived there -- the L.A. estate was used for exterior shots of the image-conscious family’s compound on Keeping Up with the Kardashians but it was all for show -- dubbed the Iredell Estate the house also appears in True Blood and Chelsea Lately 

Page 33: Health Report 

Page 34: Wrestling Ring Kings: Where Are They Now? Sable, Bret Hart

Page 35: Lex Luger, Steve Austin, Ric Flair 

Page 36: The Undertaker, Tito Santana, Diamond Dallas Page 

Page 37: Kane, Kurt Angle, Sunny, Mick Foley 

Page 39: Despite an astounding 30 No. 1 country music hits legendary singer Charley Pride took a haunting regret to his grave that he never made it as major league baseball star -- Charley had so much success but he died tormented his baseball career short-circuited -- Charley was singing and playing guitar by the time he was 14 but his real goal was to pitch for the New York Yankees -- Charley signed with a Yankees farm team as a flame-throwing phenom at 17 but in his rookie season he threw out his arm and was just never the same -- after he struck out in baseball he put his full energy into singing but faced an uphill battle -- Charley was the Jackie Robinson of country music and he endured a lot of racism 

Page 40: Kelsey Grammer admits he often breaks down and blubbers like a baby and it makes him feel better and he cries when he’s upset or sad or scared and it provides him a lot of relief and he believes years of tragedy in his life taught him to cry as a healing mechanism and now he sheds tears whenever he has sad feeling bottled up inside him 

* A moneybags James Bond fan coughed up a whopping $256,000 for the handgun 007 Sean Connery toted in the first spy epic Dr. No -- the disabled Walther PP semi-automatic was supposed to bring in no more than $200,000 but the unidentified American buyer who claims to have seen every Bond epic went even higher 

Page 44: Straight Talk -- Miley Cyrus is now blabbing about why she broke up with husband Liam Hemsworth after years of togetherness and just nine months of marriage and it sounds like a case of the pot calling the kettle black 

Page 45: Furious Queen Elizabeth has booted Princess Eugenie and her husband out of Prince Harry’s Frogmore Cottage home in a bit to foil Meghan Markle’s plan to completely cut him off from England and the royal family -- pregnant Eugenie and her booze-seller husband Jack Brooksbank were ordered to quit the cottage and move back to Kensington Palace just six weeks after Harry and Meghan secretly leased them the home meaning Harry and Meghan are still on the financial hook for Frogmore which was a gift from the queen and they will have to underwrite the cost of keeping up the property and it also ensures Harry has a home in Britain if he ever wants to come back -- by moving Eugenie and Jack out the queen has made sure Harry still has a place to hang his hat if he decides to come back to leave his American wife 

Page 47: Bizarre But True 

[banditthewriter]

Redolence - Billy Russo - 1

This is my A/B/O fic that I’ve been working on for a while. I use a comprehensive set of warnings so please be mindful. If you have questions or concerns, shoot me a message! 

Redolence: the quality of smelling strongly of something or of having qualities (especially smells) that make you think of something else

Summary: The reader is an Omega who works at a Companion Center that helps the Alphas through their ruts. She gets a request from an Alpha named Billy Russo. An immediate connection builds into more as the two of them navigate the ins and outs of the society they live in and the feelings their connection brings out of them.

Warnings: Smut. No really, lots of smut. Also angst because yeah. Sex in various positions. Oral sex (male and female receiving.) The reader does sleep with other Alphas but it is only ever mentioned, never described. Some talk of slave trade, not detailed. Angry sex. Unprotected sex. Reader experiences a bad panic attack that is described.

Tags are at the bottom. Let me know if you would like to be added to one of my tag lists!

*gif is mine*

Enjoy!

*****

"Why do we do this job again?"

You tilted your head back to see your best friend and fellow Omega on her back with a frown on her face. Karen Page was scowling at her phone.

"Is that your Alpha?"

And there it was, an attractive blush over her cheeks. If anything could get her out of her sour puss mood, it was mention of her Alpha.

"He's not my Alpha," she stressed even as her blush grew darker, "he's just an Alpha I happen to see a lot."

Since the two of you were in the common room, you didn’t remind her that she saw him outside of the Companion Center where the two of you lived and worked. If someone overheard, Karen and her Alpha would be in serious trouble. 

Alpha and Omega relationships weren't forbidden. In fact if an Alpha and an Omega started a relationship after meeting in the Companion Center, it was seen as a successful union. But there were proper channels and a process to it.

Plus it meant Karen would have to leave the center. She'd either get her own apartment or move in with her Alpha, a military man named Frank Castle. 

But for the sake of clarity, you reminded Karen why you both did this job.

"We work here because we both make more money in a month than we could in six months or a year at a job on the outside."

It was true. The normal salary for an Omega at the Companion Center was a few thousand dollars a month. Since they didn't have to pay rent or utilities, money was spent on decorating their homes and things like clothes or groceries. 

Everything else was savings. You yourself had a very nice chunk of change in a savings account for when you left the center permanently. 

Karen sighed and put her phone down on her chest. 

"He says his rut is in a few weeks," she explained quietly.

Ah, so that's why she was frowning. That was, after all, the purpose of the Companion Center and the reason the two of them met.

When an Alpha knows their rut is coming, they go to the Companion Center to pick an Omega. You hadn't seen the choosing room but you imagined a large book with scratch and sniff stickers. Alphas would be given your name and a receptor with your scent and that was how they picked which Omega to spend their rut with. 

They could request the same Omega after that, if they were happy with the results the first time. That's how Karen and Frank got to know each other before they randomly met in the city when Karen was running errands.

And now they talked daily.

If Frank's rut was coming up, it meant he'd come to the center and request to see Karen. That in itself was fine, but you had the feeling that Karen was starting to resent her job a little bit. 

It had to feel weird to have feelings for a man you met at the center. The whole purpose was to come in and have casual sex with someone you didn't know. 

Well, the purpose was more nuanced than that, but that's what it boiled down to. The Omegas were there to help the Alphas during their rut. It wasn't supposed to be romantic or meaningful.

You understood the protestations of society about Companion Centers. They likened it to prostitution or being a sex slave. But you didn't feel that way. 

Alphas didn't pay for the service, so you weren't a prostitute. You got paid for being a Companion which wasn't always sex. Some Alphas came to the center for companionship. Omegas came to the center to learn about their physiology. It wasn't always sex, so you weren't a sex slave.

You weren't a slave at all. You picked this job. Sure, you lived and worked at the center, but you were free to leave. And you could go out to the city anytime you wanted. 

Stories of Omegas being trafficked for Alphas in ruts were rampant in the city though. And female Omegas were often taken for forced breeding with Alphas as that was the most surefire way to get an Alpha child. 

You gave Karen's hand a comforting pat, unsure what you could say that would make her feel better. Then you pushed yourself off the floor where you had settled and stood up, cracking your back a bit as you did. 

"I'm going to go make dinner. Give me a call if you want to watch a movie or something."

Karen gave you a welcome smile before you turned and headed to the elevator.

The elevators in the center worked differently than most. It didn't just move up and down, but also horizontally. The center was some thirty stories high and a few football fields in length. It held a hundred living quarters for Omegas.

The Alpha would get in the elevator on the main floor and the controller would send them to the Omega they had picked. It would go to the floor and then rotate until it found the correct apartment. 

Not unlike a vending machine which was ironic.

You got into the elevator and scanned your wrist where you wore your ID tag. It told the elevator which apartment was yours. It also told people in the city that you were an Omega at the Companion Center and therefore protected. 

The elevator came to a stop at your apartment and you got out. Down the short hallway, you scanned your ID tag once more to be let in. This way only you were allowed in your room unless you opened the door for the other person. It was for the safety of the Omega.

In your apartment, you started for the kitchen but a gentle chime made you hesitate. The touchscreen next to the door was lit up with a message. 

You tapped the corner which brought the message to full screen. 

Alpha 659437 - William Russo requests Companionship 

You had been requested. You clicked on the name and waited for the information to load. There wasn't much, but there never was.

Thirty six years old, previous military, currently a businessman. There were physical traits but you never read through those. 

Back on the first screen you finally saw the time requested. It was for that same day in just a few hours. Usually companion requests were sent a few days ahead of time, but maybe this Alpha hadn't been aware that his rut was on its way.

You tapped a green square at the bottom of the screen after you read the information. It thanked you for accepting the Alpha’s request before the screen went dark.

With an Alpha on the way, you didn't have time to make dinner. Instead you checked your fridge to make sure you had enough food and water for the evening to come. Satisfied, you grabbed a protein bar and headed into your bedroom.

It was clean except for some dirty clothes which you put into the hamper and then put into your closet. Then you stripped your bed and put those in a separate hamper to wash later.

In a separate closet were rows of vacuum sealed bags that you removed. The routine was familiar after a few years. These sheets were washed with unscented detergent so that the Alpha wouldn't be assaulted with too many different scents. You put them on the bed and pillows. Next was a quilt from one of the vacuum sealed bags.

Bed made, you finished your protein bar. It wasn't much, but you'd grab a second one after your shower. 

That was next in the routine. In your bathroom there were bottles of different scented shampoos and body washes. Instead you pulled out a few items from a grey box that was under your sink. You set out a few on the counter that the Alpha could use if he needed. Then you grabbed yours from the box.

Unscented soap, unscented shampoo and conditioner, vacuum sealed washcloth and towel.

After you had showered and dried off, you pulled out some clothes to wear. Plain underwear and a sports bra paired with a pair of soft yoga pants and a t-shirt. These were clean but they weren't vacuum sealed. This way they held your scent enough that the Alpha would recognize you from the choosing room where they had picked out your scent.

And also to get them used to your scent before their rut took hold. At that point, they'd be smelling a lot of you. 

You only had about thirty minutes to kill at that point so you went into the kitchen and grabbed another protein bar. While you munched on that, you pulled out some food to set on the table.

Some Alphas wanted a meal first, to talk and get to know their Omega companion. Some wanted to watch television or just talk. A few had played cards with you. 

Some Alphas just wanted to go straight to bed. Those were your least favorite. They made you feel like some sort of commodity, just something for them to use. They were also the ones that left immediately after.

You, like most Omegas at the Companion Center, preferred the Alphas that talked to you like a human. They were grateful for your help during their rut. An Alpha without someone to spend their rut with was miserable. The ones that just treated you like a thing to use? Those made your skin craw. 

The time ticked by slowly, but finally your touchscreen chimed. You clicked on the view and saw that a tall man was in the hallway with the elevator doors closing behind him. The camera wasn’t very high tech so you couldn’t make out any of his physical characteristics, but you didn’t need to.

You pressed the button on the touchscreen that activated the speaker.

"Alpha ID?"

The man looked at the door in confusion until he saw the speaker and camera. Then he gave it a nod.

"659437."

You released the speaker button and then unlocked the door. When you pulled it all the way open, you were surprised by what you saw. His face was scarred, but there was more than that. Even with those scars, he was terribly handsome. Dark eyes and long lashes, some facial hair spread over the unscarred parts of his cheeks, a mouth that was downturned into a frown.

You bet he looked beautiful when he smiled.

“Please come in,” you said as you waved him into your apartment. “Make yourself at home.”

He hesitated a moment and you felt a frown tug at your own lips. It wouldn’t be the first time you’d been turned down by an Alpha when they got to your apartment, but it never got easier. Just as you started to build yourself up to tell him he could go back down and pick someone else, he stepped across the threshold.

You shut the door behind him and watched as he looked around. His hands were fisted at his side as he stood stiffly in the middle of your entryway. But at least he was inside. You could fall onto your companion training.

“Do you want something to eat? Or drink? I have some stuff laid out if you’re hungry,” you said as you moved around him to the table, letting him see the options. “I can also make something if you’d prefer.”

He turned to face you and you noticed that the frown wasn’t as fierce as it was before. Now he just seemed confused.

“Do you always feed Alphas when they come by?”

He had a bit of a New York accent that made you want to smile, but you didn’t. You didn’t want him to think you were laughing at him. Instead you shrugged a shoulder and met his eyes.

“If you are hungry, sure. If you aren’t hungry, we can sit and watch television for a bit. Or just talk, if you’d prefer,” you offered as you gestured towards the couch and loveseat in the living room.

He still looked confused. With a nod, he moved into the living room and sat down on one of the couches. You followed his lead and moved to sit on the loveseat, keeping yourself near to him but not crowding him. He looked uncomfortable.

He was thirty six; surely this wasn’t his first time at the Companion Center? Going that long without a partner for his rut would make him nearly feral once it hit. The center was usually careful with that, but perhaps they missed something.

You needed to put him at ease, so you continued with your training.

“What would you like me to call you? Alpha Russo? William?”

He shook his head at that. You were wondering if maybe you weren’t to call him anything when he finally spoke.

“Billy. You can call me Billy.”

Billy. You wondered if it fit the man on your couch. He looked more like a William, mature and in charge, but maybe Billy would grow on you.

“Alright Billy. You can call me Y/N if you would like.” 

Always defer to what they wanted, always give them the choice. These were things that you had learned early in your training and it was the easiest to fall back on. But Billy was still sitting stiffly on the couch.

It would be rude to ask if this was his first time at the Companion Center. It would be rude to question why he was requesting a companion if it seemed like he didn’t actually want one.

Instead you moved to the edge of the cushion you were on and waited for his eyes to meet yours once more.

“Billy, you seem tense. Would you like me to rub your shoulders? Just to help you relax a bit.”

He seemed surprised. There was a long moment before he gave a nod, giving you permission. You stood up and slowly moved to stand behind the couch. Then you carefully placed the backs of your hands against his shoulders. It gave him a moment to prepare and accept that someone—an Omega—was behind him. Alphas were notorious for attacking when they felt threatened so you were trained to never be threatening.

Once you were sure he would not flinch or attack, you pressed your palms to his shoulders. You could feel the tension that he held there. As you started to press in with your thumbs, you started up a thread of conversation.

“Did you see that it’s going to storm for the entire weekend? The weather channel said we’re going to record amounts of rain.”

You kept up the ministrations of your hands as you talked to him about the weather. His responses were monosyllabic, but at least he was responding. And you could feel a little relaxation in his shoulders as you worked.

“I’m sorry for being… awkward,” he finished in a tone that was closer to self deprecation and humor than you had expected. 

“Nothing to apologize for,” you promised as you rested your hands on his shoulders. “Do you want me to continue?”

There was a moment of hesitation before he nodded jerkily. You continued your work while talking to him about a movie you had seen recently.

The massage actually held two benefits. It would loosen him up a bit, sure, but it also got him used to your touch and scent. You were sure to turn your wrists towards him as often as you could and make it seem natural. The scent glands in the wrists were gentle and not overbearing so it was the easiest way to get a new Alpha used to your scent.

“The last time I came to the center, it wasn’t like this,” he admitted as you worked on a particularly stubborn knot near his shoulder blade.

Your hands paused for a moment at that. You did some math in your head and then let out a breath.

“You haven’t been to the center in over five years?” 

That’s when the change happened, when the Betas that ran the center changed the protocols from just sex to companionship.

“I was deployed for some of that. Then I started a business right after I got out. And I was in recovery for a while.”

His scars. You remembered that he had been in the military and now he was a businessman. It wasn’t unusual for the body to shut down the mating response while under all that stress, plus the military used suppressants. And if he was injured, which obviously he was, his body would have been focused on healing rather than mating.

But that made you pause for a different reason.

With one hand still on him at all times, you moved to stand beside the couch where he was sitting. You didn’t want to break the contact and you told yourself it was because you didn’t want to lose this connection the two of you had started.

“Billy, I have a question that I normally wouldn’t ask an Alpha, especially not on our first meeting. Will you permit me to ask a personal question?”

He closed his eyes—more of a wince than anything else.

“Go ahead.”

You gave his shoulder a brief squeeze, letting him feel that you were still there. With his eyes closed, you definitely didn’t want to take your hand away from him.

“How long has it been since your last rut?”

His eyes popped open and you immediately yanked your hand away from his shoulder, despite your training that fast movements weren’t a good idea. His hand shot out and wrapped around your wrist, but there wasn’t any violence in the touch.

It was more like he just wanted the contact. Like he needed it maybe. He tugged your wrist closer to him and you watched as he stared down at the inside of your wrist.

“I thought you were going to ask what happened,” he said as if he was addressing your wrist.

You opened your mouth as that sank in. That’s why he had reacted the way he had when you asked. It made sense, but you would never be so impertinent as to ask that kind of question. You were about to relay as much to him, but he shook his head and began speaking once more.

“I had a rut before my accident, but I didn’t have a… companion, I guess. I got through it alone. They usually come on pretty quickly for me and I didn’t have a chance to get to the center before it hit fully.”

You slowly reached out with your free hand and covered his with yours.

“That must be difficult. But you’re here now. I’ll take good care of you Billy.”

It was something you usually said to the Alphas. You meant it in an all encompassing kind of way, like you providing food and a massage if they needed it. Billy nodded his head, his eyes still on your wrist. You watched as he raised it up, but all he did was press his nose to the soft skin there.

His skin felt warm. And by the way he was checking your scent, he was getting closer to his rut taking hold.

“Would you stand for me?”

He opened his eyes slowly, blinking them lazily as if he had been getting lost in your scent. Then he gave a nod as if he had just heard your question. You stood up and he followed suit, still holding on to your wrist. Once he was standing, you stepped backwards so that he would have to step with you.

Two more steps and then you were away from the couches. He followed almost as if he was entranced, but you could see a flush rising to his skin. You didn’t think he was the kind to blush, so it was more that his rut was starting to take hold. Of course he had just been inhaling the scent of an Omega, so it wasn’t a surprise that his rut was kicking in.

“We’re going to go to the bedroom now,” you said softly as you stepped into his space, seeing his eyes become heavy lidded as he looked down at you. 

His irises were so dark that you almost couldn’t see the pupil. Or maybe it was just that his pupils were so large right then. 

You led him towards your bedroom with his hand still wrapped around your wrist. Across the threshold, you glanced back and caught his eyes roaming over your body. You felt a little gratified by the look in his eye and that was intensified by the sight of him getting hard in his jeans.

Shit. You couldn’t remember the last time you were actually attracted to an Alpha that had requested you. And you definitely couldn’t remember the last time you’d gotten hot under the collar at the way they reacted to you.

In the safety of the bedroom, you lowered the lighting so that it wasn’t so bright. Then you moved so that you were both next to the bed. You could see the rise and fall of his chest as his breathing started to race.

“Do you want to start like this? Or do you want to go ahead and get undressed?”

You barely got the question out before he was kicking off his shoes and socks. As he fought with the zipper of his jeans, you raised your hands to your shirt. His hands clasped around your wrists and he shook his head.

“I want to do that,” he breathed in a low voice as he stepped closer to you.

With his jeans unbuttoned and open, he grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled it off of you. Once that was off, he pulled off his own shirt.

He had scars. You expected it after seeing his face, but the reality was different. You fought back the urge to trace them with your fingers. His hands moved to the bottom of your sports bra and he pulled that off of you as well.

For the first time since he had touched your wrist, he looked uncertain. You grabbed his hands and pressed them on your ribs, letting him feel you take a deep breath that way.

“You can touch me,” you said in a soft voice, your mouth feeling a bit dry at the feel of his hands on your skin. 

His hands slid up your sides to cup your breasts. You felt his thumbs brush over your nipples and you bit your lip to keep from making an incredibly embarrassing noise. He did it again and this time you let your head fall forward at the feeling. 

Then his hands were gone, but only long enough for him to shed his jeans and briefs. He stood before you completely nude. With your head tilted, you could look as much as you wanted without being caught. And yeah, he was beautiful all the way down.

His hands were back on your skin, but this time they moved down your body. His fingers hooked under the waistband of your yoga pants and the underwear you wore under them. He tugged them down over your hips and thighs, letting you kick them off.

Now you were both bare. His eyes were all over your body. You wanted more than his eyes though. You wanted his hands on your body. You grabbed his wrists and moved his hands to your sides once more. One of his hands went up to your breast again, but the other moved down. It went over your hip to your thigh, the tips of his fingers pressing into the swell of your ass. He tugged you close as he did that, your bodies so close you could feel the heat from him.

“Y/N?”

It was the first time he’d said your name. You blinked up at him and hoped that he couldn’t tell how hazy you were just then. His eyes looked crystal clear as he stared down at you.

With your head tilted up to him, he leaned in as if he was going to kiss you. Only he stopped a few inches away. Realizing that he wasn’t going to take that step without your permission, you surged up to kiss him. The touch of his lips against yours seemed to set a fire inside of him.

Warmth spread over your body from him. His hands moved to grip your hips, tugging you up so that you had to wrap your legs around his waist. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders as you kissed him, sucking on his tongue and panting harshly against his mouth. Then everything was topsy turvy until you felt your back against the bed.

He had tipped the two of you over. It put the weight of him resting between your legs. You put your feet against the bed and rolled your hips upwards, grinding up against his cock. He pushed your hips down and leaned over you, kissing you hard once more.

As an Omega, your sex drive usually mirrored that of the Alpha you were with when they were in a rut. You felt like you were going to combust if Billy didn’t get inside of you soon so you could only imagine how he was feeling. And with him having so few ruts in the last few years, you weren’t exactly sure what to expect.

He pulled your hands from around his sides and pressed them down against the bed on either side of your head. His fingers lingered on your wrists as he kissed you, his tongue sliding against yours. When he pulled away, it was to kiss across your jaw and down your neck, inhaling over your scent glands. His teeth scraped against your collarbone and you rolled your hips up into his again.

When he finally released your wrists, it was so that his hands could go down your body. His hands went to your thighs and spread them wider. Then he was kissing his way down your body. You looked down to watch as he kissed across your thighs. He pressed his nose into the junction of your thigh and your pelvis and took a deep breath. The scent glands there were the strongest, but you hadn’t expected him to pay much attention to it.

Most Alphas were more interested in their own pleasure, but Billy didn’t seem to be in any rush to get inside you. Instead his hand went between your legs. His fingers rubbed between your folds, finding you already dripping wet. He made a pleased noise at finding the wetness there. You were sure he would put his fingers inside of you then, give you something, but instead he spread your folds and lowered his mouth to your clit.

“Fuck,” you moaned as your hand went to the back of his head to hold him close, your hips moving to grind your pussy against his mouth.

His tongue lapped up at your wetness, sliding up the length of your slit. Then he focused attention on your clit, sucking and circling his tongue around the bundle of nerves. His fingers moved lower. His middle finger went in first, curling upwards to brush against your g-spot. He fucked it in and out of you while he focused his mouth on your aching clit.

You were lost in the feeling that he was causing. All you could do is ride it out as he added a second finger. The fingers moved faster and faster, slamming into you harder. It was so close to what you really needed. That and the suction of his mouth on your clit had your back arching as your orgasm rocked over you.

Usually you’d come when the Alpha did, but you could probably count on one hand the number of Alphas who wanted to make you come before they did. Most Alphas were more focused on their pleasure.

Billy pulled away from your pussy, wiping his mouth as he did. His tongue ran along his bottom lip and you clenched around the fingers still inside of you. His eyes moved down to where he was inside of you, grinning at the feeling. He pumped the fingers in you a few times before he sat up completely.

“Do you have condoms?”

You leaned up on one arm and leaned over to your bedside table. Inside was a new box and you pulled it out. You had a feeling you were going to need a new box after tonight.

He opened the box and then pulled out one of the condoms. He opened the foil and then held it out to you.

“Put it on me.”

There was a thread of the Alpha compulsion in his voice, but you didn’t think he was doing it on purpose. You grabbed it from him to slide it on him, jerking his cock a few times just because you couldn’t help yourself. It was like the perfect length and girth, fit perfectly in your hand. 

An image of your mouth on it made your pussy clench again, but thankfully he didn’t feel it this time. Usually any time you gave oral was because the Alpha requested it. You’d never wanted to do it as badly as you did right then.

Once the condom was on him, you started to roll over. Most Alphas preferred the first time to be with the Omega on their hands and knees. But Billy grabbed your hip and refused to let you roll over completely. Instead he wrapped your leg around his hips. He guided his cock to your entrance, but didn’t push in.

You weren’t sure what he was waiting for. You tried to pull him closer, but it wasn’t enough. There was pressure building and you could feel the heat from him. You needed him inside of you soon.

“Please Billy,” you pleaded, your breath catching on his name.

That must have been what he was waiting for because you barely got his full name out before he was sliding inside of you. His cock stretched you more than his fingers had. You squeezed around his cock as he rocked shallowly. Once he was sure your body was ready, he pulled almost all the way out and then slammed his hips forward. His thrusts were a tease, not nearly enough.

You reached one hand up and ran it over his head, desperate for more from him. He inhaled deeply at your wrist before he leaned in to kiss you. After a few desperate, panting kisses, his thrusts became wilder and more forceful. You could feel as he lost himself to the full throes of his rut. His hips pistoned between your thighs, slamming his cock into you over and over. You scratched over his back and shoulders, desperate to keep him close. Somewhere between the forceful thrusts and his mouth against yours, you felt a second orgasm build low in your stomach. As it crashed over you, Billy let out a growl against your mouth. 

A pleased growl, at that. You could feel his pleasure at making you come again. And now you wanted that pleasure. You clenched around his cock as best as you could, rolling your hips to meet his thrusts. His skin was almost feverish under your hands so you knew that he was close. He buried his face into your neck, his mouth biting down on the skin there as his thrusts became erratic. 

You took the moment to inhale his scent. The smell of Billy was mixed with sex and the spice from his rut but it all smelled so good to you. You let out a long moan as you felt his cock spill inside the condom. You felt the twitching as his cock drained and you let your head roll back at the feeling.

He kept his weight from pressing down on you, but he waited to pull out. When he did, you felt empty and couldn’t help as your pussy clenched around nothing. You didn’t have to feel empty long before his fingers were inside of you again.

“I don’t know how long it’ll take,” he said as he pumped his fingers in and out of you lazily, “but I can still feel it as strongly as I did before. It could be a while before my rut is over.”

With as irregular as his ruts had been for the last few years, you imagined it’d last for a while. Most Alphas would get two or three major orgasms and then the rut would pass over them. But if Billy didn’t feel any difference after that orgasm? And your own body still felt like a live wire. 

Although you did wonder how much of that was you mirroring him and how much of it was just that he was probably the best sex you’d ever had.

He pulled his fingers out of you long enough to rid himself of his condom. He grabbed a second one but didn’t have to ask for you to put it on him this time. You took it from him and slid it over his still hard cock. You leaned in and wrapped your mouth around the head of his cock, sucking on it as best you could with the condom on him. The latex taste of the condom wasn’t pleasant, but the warmth of him in your mouth was almost worth it.

You were pulled off of his cock and then rolled over. This time you were on your stomach, but it didn’t feel like how it usually did with Alphas. He didn’t make you present yourself for him. He raised your hips and tucked a pillow under them, but he didn’t force your face into the bed as he slid into you. His hands still moved over your body as he fucked you this time, playing with your nipples and then moving under you to play with your clit. You ached with need as you thrust backwards against him.

It was like he knew when you needed it harder, when you needed more from him. You clenched around his cock as he pounded into you from behind, your whole body shaking as you took everything he had to give. This time your orgasm rocked over you and made you cry out, biting down onto your own wrist to keep from screaming his name. And it was only moments later that you felt his cock pulse inside you once more.

This time he stayed inside you longer, his thighs flexing in an effort to keep from pounding into you again. When he finally pulled out to remove the condom, you rolled over to watch him.

“How are you feeling?”

He looked over his shoulder at you and then away just as quickly.

“Still in my rut,” he said defensively under his breath.

You crawled across the bed and placed your hand on his back. When he didn’t shy away, you moved so that you could drape yourself over his back, your arms going around his chest and holding him.

“I’m not asking because I want this to be over quicker. I just want to make sure you’re okay. Do you need something to drink? Some food? A foot rub?”

From where your chin was propped on his shoulder, you could see the tiniest of smiles on his face. And then it was neutral once more.

“Something to drink would be nice.”

You squeezed his shoulders as you got up. There was a robe hanging near your bedroom door and you tugged that on as you walked into the living room. With two bottles of Gatorade in hand, you went back to the bedroom to see that Billy had gotten situated on the bed with his back against the headboard and his legs partially spread.

His cock was still hard. You licked your lips as you tore your eyes away, but not before you caught his smirk again.

“Come here,” he said with another small thread of compulsion. This time you thought he might have done it on purpose.

You crawled onto the bed and handed him his drink. After both of you drained about half of the bottles, he put them to the side and pulled you into his lap and tugged your robe off. He grabbed another condom and put it on before he settled you over him with one leg on each side. This gave you more leverage as you lowered yourself onto his cock. 

“Just like this,” he said softly into your ear as he thrust up into you. 

You held on to his shoulders as you rode him, meeting his thrusts with your own. This position was intense for a reason beyond just the angle. There was an intimacy to this that you hadn’t experienced the few other times you’d ended up in this position. The intensity in Billy’s eyes as he fucked you made your chest hurt.

What was it about this Alpha that set him so far apart from others? Why were you on pins and needles around him? And why was sleeping with him like nothing you’d ever felt before?

This time you both came at the same time. You gasped at the feeling of clenching around his cock while he spilled inside the condom. His hands were tight on your hips, holding you down against him. As if you’d want to get away.

You slumped on top of him, your body protesting the number of orgasms you’d already wrung out of it. And you could still sense that Billy was in his rut.

You’d have to take a few days after this one before you could become active again. You had a feeling you were going to be sore.

He lifted you off of his cock and went to dispose of the condom again. This time when he got into the bed, he didn’t immediately reach out for you. You leaned onto your side so that you could watch him settle down on his back.

He was starting to come down from his rut, but you didn’t think that would last. This was how it normally was, with time between cycles. There’d be anywhere from twenty minutes to an hour before his body would feel feverish and he’d need to take you again.

“Would you like some time alone?”

Billy rolled over to look at you. He shook his head after a long moment. When you felt his hand brush against you this time, you knew it wasn’t sexual. This was where the companion part came in. Some Alphas wanted to be alone between their rut cycles, but some wanted contact. It seemed Billy was one of the latter.

You moved to lean against his side, your body pressed along his from shoulder to ankle. The closeness would trigger his rut cycle quicker, but it would do good for him as well.

“Just rest,” you told him as you brushed your lips against a scar on his shoulder. 

It was going to be a long night for both of you.

X

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