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dreamingofep · 1 year

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Strangers in the Crowd

(Elvis/Austin!Elvis × reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Request: No, just another one of my delusional fantasies.

Prompt: You and your best friend are on are annual girls trip and go to see Elvis at the International. Little did you know this would be a show you’ll never forget. [Fem!Reader ]

TW: Smuttt, cussing, fingering (f. receiving) teasing/tension, virgin reader, unprotected p in v, oral.

Rating: Explicit/Mature (NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact)

Word Count: 8.1k

A/N: Hi lovlies. Hope you enjoy this new fic! I LOVE 70s Elvis in Vegas and couldn’t help but wonder if he would have a little fling with someone in his audience. Im incapable of writing a short fic I guess so sorry that it’s so long hahaha. Feel free to message me or comment what you think! Thanks for all the love. Sorry for any spelling mistakes or goofs.

The Vegas lights blinded you with all their glittery and colorful beauty. You had never been here before and this small little city in the desert excited you. You and your best friend were on your annual girls trip and this year you decided to go all out and do a three-day trip here. You and Cicily were also celebrating your 25th birthday together as it was only 3 days apart from one another. You both had never left Austin and were so excited to make a road trip to Vegas.

You both were fresh out of breakups and were ready to have some fun. Your ex was a selfish asshole and only wanted to use you for your body. You never let him get that far and couldn’t stand how he would treat you regardless. It only lasted a month but you knew a girls trip was in order a forget all about any college boy problems.

On the first day there, you both hit the shops and bought some new outfits and a really special one to go and see Elvis Presley at the International Hotel tonight. You both were so excited to see him live. You had heard all the rave reviews of his latest Vegas engagement and Cicily had a cousin who worked for the hotel who could get you two some tickets to the midnight show. They were booths in the middle of the showroom so you thought it would be a pretty good seat to see everything.

You both wait in line to get into the theater and the excited hum of the room made you so anxious in the best of ways. You’ve never seen him live and tonight was the time.

You both get ushered to your booth and you order drinks for yourselves. Two cosmopolitans were your drinks of choice and the buzz in the air was electric. Everyone was rushing to their seats with hound dogs and pictures of Elvis in their hands. A lot of the girls were giddy with excitement and you couldn’t help but look the same. You glance over at Cicily and it looks like she’s on the brink of screaming.

The house lights go down and applause breaks out as the golden curtain starts to rise. The lights dance on the shimmering fabric and it is mesmerizing. The band starts to play and you get chills running down your arms. The bass is loud and heavy and feels like it's rattling in your chest.

Then you see it. This tall, ethereal-looking man steps from the wings of the stage and captures the audience in the palm of his hand. The most contagious-looking smile forms across his face and he shakes his head and looks down at the floor, then back up. You’re smiling like an idiot and screaming with the rest of the crowd. His tan skin gleamed underneath the white jumpsuit he had on with mesh chains connecting on each side of the low cut V. You look over at Cicily and she has tears in her eyes she’s so happy.

You have to pinch yourself… you’re in the same room as Elvis Presley.

The Elvis Presley.

The King of Rock and Roll.

The man that caused riots in the 50s and now fourteen years later, he’s back for more.

His long legs get him to the microphone quickly as one of his band members helps him put his guitar strap on around his neck. He still has an ear-to-ear grin on his face and pulls the microphone stand to him as he stretches out his right leg as the left is shaking in place.

“We’ll that’s all right mama…that’s all right with you…”

The sound of his voice filling the large showroom is causing everyone to thrill with excitement and clap along to the beat of the song. He is filled with nervous energy but it is only fueling him further.

You hug her tight as both of your eyes are glued to the stage.

She nudges you as he is talking to the audience, “Isn’t he something?! Oh my god, he’s just on fire up there!”

You nod your head as you look back at the stage. He starts stuttering and making fun of himself and folding over and laughing. And good lord his laugh is the most contagious thing you’ve ever heard. You feel a grin form across your face as you listen to him stutter and giggle at himself. He still has that boyish charm but the sexual charisma drips off of him like thick sweet honey.

And what you would give to have a taste…

Cicily bumps your shoulder and breaks you out of your daydream.

“Did you know that he walks through the crowd and kisses the girls? My cousin says he does It every show,” she says giddily. You can’t help but giggle and blush at the idea of his lips touching yours. Lord, it makes you weak just thinking about it.

“My first movie ladies and gentlemen was Love Me Tender, I’d like to sing it for you,” you hear his smooth baritone voice fill the speakers and turn your attention to the stage again. He starts the song off slowly, kissing a few girls that are by the stage. Then he goes down the steps of the stage and says hello to more people.

The crowd starts to gather around him as he tries to make his way through the showroom. He places soft kisses on the women coming up to him or anyone else he sees in his eye-line.

He starts getting closer to your booth and a huge surge of nerves fills your entire body.

Could there be a chance?

Would he see you?

Would he give you a kiss?

Screams fill the air as he gets closer to your booth and you feel your heart drop into your stomach. He was distractingly beautiful the closer he was to you. All you could do was stare at the way he commanded the room and how he took the time to look at everyone with a smile.

Suddenly, your eyes meet and you gasp at those electric blue eyes. They pierce into you and hold you there. You feel like time had slowed down for you two. In this brief moment, it was just you two and not the other thousands of people screaming his name fighting to get his attention. He gently pushes through the few people in front of him and stands right before you.

A small smirk forms on the corners of his mouth and he places his hand on your cheek. Blood rushes to them and you move in closer to him.

“Come here, lil’ mama,” he says and leans in to kiss you.

His lips meet yours and you move your hand to his face too. The softness of his lips feels perfect on yours and he pulls away and has a gorgeous smile on his face. Before turning away, he winks and moves into the crowd almost consuming him. Your whole body is in shock. There are no words that can form in your head other than, “holy shit.”

You place both of your hands over your mouth to cover your complete shock. Cicily tugs at your arm and is screaming over and over at you, “what just happened!? Oh my god was that real!?”

You are at a loss for words. Nothing could make this trip more perfect than what just happened. Elvis makes his way back onto the stage to finish the song. The crowd starts to sit back down and you are buzzing with excitement still. Never in a million years did you think this would happen.

“Am I dreaming!? Holy shit… that was amazing…” you trail off in a daze.

“Was it like you dreamed it?”

“Even better, god what I would give for another…” you stop yourself as Cicily grabs your hand with a sly look on her face.

“You don’t have enough balls to go get another…” she giggles.

You look back up to the stage and he’s taking a second to drink some water. Every angle of this man is perfect and the way that jumpsuit looks astonishing on him just makes your mouth water. The feeling of his plump lips replays over and over and over again in your head and you start to blush just thinking about having another kiss from him.

“You wanna put money on that?”

You get up from the booth and make your way to the front tables. You squeeze through the people’s chairs and get to the ledge of the stage. Elvis turns around and sets down his water on the table next to one of the guitar players as he sees you leaning your arms on the stage and looking up at him. You rest your chin on your arms and give him your most pleading eyes.

“Well now, what do we have here,” he chuckles into the microphone.

You smile a big smile at him and motion him to come closer to you with your finger.

He slowly moves closer, taking his sweet time, almost teasing you.

“You want another kiss so you can sit down, is that the idea?” he teases, his feet right near your arms.

You nod your head yes and can’t help but bite your lip. You feel this rush of boldness and reach out and touch his calf. He gets a grin from this gesture and kneels down on one knee for you.

“Well come here baby,” he coos into the microphone. The crowd goes crazy and you feel your heart racing out of your chest. You get on your tippy toes as you try to reach him. He pulls the microphone away from his mouth and places his hand on your face yet again. He gives you a sly grin and shakes his head.

“You naughty girl,” he whispers as he leans in for a kiss. Your cheeks flush red at the sound of his words but also how passionate the kiss felt. There was so much energy flowing through him and you loved the way his lips felt on you. You squeeze his calf slightly as he is about to break the kiss. You smile up at him and bite your lip. He shakes his head and goes in for another wet kiss and you can’t help a small airy moan escape your lips.

“Thank you,” you mouthed at him and let go of his leg. You shoot him an ear-to-ear smile and he gets off his knees and stands back up.

“Lord have mercy,” he chuckles back into the mic as the audience continues to egg him on. You feel your head spinning and the loudness of the room only gets worse. You take a deep breath and try to go back to your seat. Other girls were trying to get to the stage too but Elvis wasn’t paying any attention to them. He went back for another drink of water and the band start to play the next song.

You finally reach the booth and Cicily’s mouth is agape and her eyes are blown wide.

“Pay up,” you snicker and hold out your hand.

She continues to have that shocked expression on her face and you burst out into laughter.

“You’re insane! I didn’t think you’d actually do it!” You nod your head at her and look back at the stage.

“Well, when’s the next time that’s gonna happen?! The worst he could have said was no. I have nothing to lose we’re leaving in two days, might as well take some memories with us back home,” you say as you realize everything that has happened in these last 20 minutes. Shock and awe are all you can see and so happy that this has happened.

You turn your attention to him on stage and you could swear he’s looking at you, and only you. There are so many songs that he does that sound incredible. He brings a new life to them and there's so much passion in his voice. He’s up there doing what he loves to do and it shines through.

“Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, you’ve been a fantastic audience,” he says humbly as he goes to drink some water. “There’s a song I did in Blue Hawaii, and I’d like to sing it, especially for you,” the first notes of the song ring out on the piano and the heavy sound of the drums follow as he starts Can’t Help Falling in Love.

It’s one of your favorite songs he’s ever done and it always lifts your spirits. His voice rings out beautifully with the rest of his backup singers and you can feel the tears well up in your eyes.

This last hour and a half was surreal and one you’ll never forget. And to end with this song in particular, you know he’s singing it to you, the fans. His love for the fans was something that no other artist had. That’s what made him so special.

A taller man with brunette hair starts to make his way to your table and you look over at Tasha uncomfortably. He greets you both with a smile and you wait for what he’s doing at your table.

“Hi ladies, I’m Jerry. I work with Elvis,” he said trying to talk over the loudspeakers. “We were wondering if you both wanted to come to the after-party tonight for Elvis?”

You shoot Cicily a look and you swear she has stars in her eyes.

“Yes, we’d love to!” You both say at the same time. Jerry laughs at your excitement.

“Alright sounds good, follow me and I’ll escort you both up,”

Your heart raced with excitement and anticipation for what was going to happen next. A party with Elvis!? This has to be some sort of dream you swear.

You all exit the showroom and head through the lobby. Through the hall of elevators, you get in the last one on the right and Jerry holds the door open for your two and makes sure no one is following you. He inserts a key into the panel that gives access to the penthouse floors.

You get up to the top floors and turn the corner to the first doors where you see two big guys blocking the doors. They nod at Jerry and open the door for him. He lets you two in the doors first where there is a lot of people already in the suite with drinks in their hand. The view of the Vegas strip was in the distance, sparkling with all the luster of stars.

You both get yourself glasses of champagne and find an open sofa seat you both share. Your body fills with nerves getting to be so close to him again.

Suddenly a hush falls over the room and this intense amount of energy makes your arm hair stand up.

Above the crowd stands the tall man in his all-white jumpsuit. His hair was wet with sweat and his tan chest glistened.

You stand up, wanting to be seen in the crowd of people yet again. Everyone starts to congratulate him on a wonderful show. He shakes the hands of anyone who reaches out to him and smiles the most gorgeous-looking smile you had ever seen.

Suddenly, his eyes look up at yours as you are staying back from the rest of the group.

He starts walking over and turns to look over at Cicily. She and Jerry are in the midst of a conversation and watch as he leans in and places a kiss on her lips. You cover your face to hide any sounds that might come out of your mouth and quietly giggle.

No one is going to believe the trip you two are having…

By the time you glance back over at Elvis, he’s standing right in front of you, looming over your small frame as you stare deep into those eyes.

“Well, what a great surprise seeing you here. Did you come back for more?’ He teases as he brushes your hair behind your ear. You can’t help but blush at his words and want to play his little game.

“Oh I don’t know about all that, it seems you have enough girls in this suite to keep you busy for a few hours. I don’t think you’ll have time for me,” you say coyly. You normally never act so cocky and sure of yourself, but something about this man made you crazy being so close to him.

“The only one I see that I want to pay any attention to is right in front of me darlin'. What’s your name?”

“Y/n, nothing special.”

“Oh no, I like the sound of that. It suits you. Beautiful and sexy,” he teases.

Your breathing hitches and you have no idea what to say to him. Almost as reading you thought, he leans down and kisses you right on the lips. This time it's different. He’s not putting on an act. There’s no audience necessary that is egging him on to kiss you. He places his hand on the small of your back and slowly pushes you into his strong frame.

You sigh into him loving the feeling of your body touching his. You put your hands on his chest, feeling his soft chest hair on your fingertips.

“Do you need anything darlin’? I need to go take a shower and I’ll come back out to the party.”

“Some more kisses, but I’ll be fine for a little,” you blush and shoot him a sly grin up at him.

“Oh I was right, I do have a naughty girl,” he grins devilishly, “Go enjoy the party. I promise I’ll come find ya.” He winks and starts to walk off to the next room attached to this suite. Your heart flutters at the slightest thing he does. You’ll be lucky to make it back home alive in one piece by the time this night ends.

You look over at Cicily again and she’s still all eyes for Jerry and you smile to yourself.

You try to mingle in with the rest of the guests but your mind keeps wondering when Elvis is coming back out. You wanted to talk to him more, be next to him, and most importantly, you want him to kiss you more.

Minutes go by and you see Elvis through the crowd dressed in a blue button-up, making his electric eyes pop even more, and a pair of black slacks. This man dressed to the nines no matter the occasion and the confidence just dripped off of him. He made his rounds throughout the room making small talk to anyone who came up to him.

Your heart was racing the entire time watching him, just waiting for your turn next. You were sitting on the sofa next to the windows, taking in this breathtaking view when you felt that familiar chill run down your body. You turn to look up at Elvis looking at you. His eyes tracing every inch of your body, looking at you ravenously.

“You like what you see hmm?” You say sheepishly.

He kneels down on one knee in front of you, just as he did on the stage, and leans in to whisper.

“I think I found what was missing to make this a perfect view.”

You feel your cheeks begin to redden. “Oh? You think so?”

“I do honey. I’d love to take you right up against that window and make the whole town watch.”

Your heart stops at the sound of his words. You feel your wetness pool at the sound of his words and you cross your legs, your pussy starting to have this needy feeling.

“Why don’t we go into the other room so we can talk more privately,” he says.

You two sneak into the connecting room and he closes the door behind you two. It’s another large living room type of setup with a bar and a piano by the window. You get lost in the beauty of the interior and the gold accents everywhere. He gently grabs your hand and takes you out of the front door and into the room across the hall. When he opens the door, the scent of him fills your nose and makes your mouth water. You hadn’t been around him very long, but the way you love the way he smells is so comforting but also so intoxicating.

There’s a large king-sized bed that consumed the middle of the room, and another grand-sized piano by the window.

You feel his hands wrap around your waist and he turns you to face him.

“That little stunt you pulled out there was a bold one. What made you think to do that?”

“Hmm, I just liked our first kiss so much, I needed another. Couldn’t sit down until I got it,” you say bluntly.

“I’m so glad you did. You were the one that stood out the most to me tonight honey. I couldn’t get enough.” The tension in the room is thick and your body wants him more than anything and it scares you.

You reach up and grab the collar of his shirt, making him get closer to you as you plant a long wet kiss. You feel a low grumble in his chest as you slip your tongue into his mouth. You gasp at the sensations running through your body. You feel the wetness in your panties pool more and you are unsure what to do about it. He carefully slides his hand down the arch of your back and pushes your torso into his. You gasp at the feeling of his erection starting to form. Part of you wants to ravage him right there, but the other part of you is timid and shy. A bolt of nerves raced through your body as it hits you he might want a bit more than just kissing tonight…

But you love the feeling of him against you. The way his hands grope and squeeze your body makes you a complete mess. His hands drift up, as he slides the straps of your dress off your shoulders. Your breathing quickens and you stare up at him, unsure of what to do next.

His fingertips lightly brush the top of your breast and you gasp at the sensation.

“You look so beautiful, mama. Can I see the rest of ya?” He asks so innocently. The boyish smile he has as he looks over your body. Like it’s the first time he’s ever seen a woman this close.

His gaze is intimidating. You really don’t know what he expects of you but he’s Elvis Presley. He’s surely been with countless women and his expectations are astronomically high when it comes to sex.

Nerves continue to wrack your body almost causing you to shake. Your voice is quiet and unsure, “Elvis, I don’t know. I don’t think you want to do this with me….” The concern lights up his eyes.

“Honey, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. You don’t have to do anything. But what did you mean by that? Why wouldn’t I want to do anything with you? You’re gorgeous baby,” he says with a smile.

“I umm… I know I’m not what you’re used to. I’m not sure about…” you trail off, your cheeks burning red.

His eyebrows squint together in concern.

“Baby, you don’t have to worry about anything. I’ll take real good care of you I promise. I want to give you more,” he places a soft kiss on your lips and you feel your body aches for him to do everything he’s promising you.

But you break the kiss and muster up the courage.

“Elvis I, umm, I’m a virgin. I’ve never been with a man. Ever. I have no idea how to please you and I don’t want this to be something that’s terrible for you. You’re better off finding another girl in that room to have fun with tonight,” your voice soft and weak. You feel so embarrassed about what you had to confess and the insecurities are running off of you like water.

He looks at you stoically, trying to find the right thing to say. He goes to sit on the edge of the bed and reaches out his hand for yours. You cautiously move toward him and he looks deep into your eyes.

“Darlin’ that’s nothing to be ashamed of. You have no reason to feel bad about it. Not with me at least. If you’re not ready to do anything, that’s fine,” he says softly and thinks for a bit. “Can I ask why it’s never happened? I just thought a gorgeous girl like you, you’d have men throwing themselves at ya,” he quips cutely.

You chuckle at his cheeky comment, “No one’s been worth it. I just didn’t feel the same when it came to having sex with someone and wasn’t just going to do it because they wanted it.”

“I understand darlin’. I’m sorry you’ve felt like that with a man,” he says softly.

Your head spins as this whole situation feels unreal. You have this undeniable need to have him which is crazy to you considering you have never had a man.

“But you’re different, I can tell. I want you, so bad Elvis. Every part of me wants you but I don’t know what you expect of me.”

“You don’t need to do anything darlin’. I’ll take care of you and make you feel so good. I can teach you things, if you want…”

“Yes, teach me… teach me how to make you feel good too. What do you like, please tell me,” you plead.

His eyes start to look aflame, he bites his bottom lip and places a tiny kiss on your cheek down to your neck.

“Mmm, okay dear,” he whispers in your ear.

You take a sharp breath in, loving the way his lips ignite you and all the new sensations that come with it.

“Can I teach you how to suck me off? Would you like me in your mouth?” He asks with lust rolling off his words causing your pussy to clench.

You slowly nod your head yes and he goes on to kiss you again on the lips, slipping his tongue in and groaning.

The idea of his cock in you has you filled with anticipation and need. You had only ever grinded on a few guys in the past over their pants but this was different. Something about Elvis’ commanding presence told you that he was going to fuck you senseless and you were going to love it.

He carefully placed one of your hands on his upper thigh where you can feel his forming erection run down his leg.

You gasp at the feeling and how large he is.

“See whatcha doin’ to me, making me so hard. This is gonna be inside you making you feel so good.” He moans as he feels you start to rub the length of him. The friction of his pants against it is driving him crazy. He trails kisses up and down your neck, nipping at times the soft sensitive flesh making you moan.

He leans you back, so he can get better access to your breasts. He kisses and sucks at them, making popping sounds each time he lets go. You feel the rush of wetness go into your panties and the throbbing sensation overtaking your core.

You carefully pull down the fabric of the top of your dress, exposing yourself to him. He groans when he sees what you’re doing and takes his large hands and places them firmly on you. You watch as he squeezes them, applying little pressure at first, then squeezes them harder causing you to moan and your head to fall back. He lifts one of your breasts and puts your nipple in his mouth, sucking and licking the sensitive bud.

You gasp, shocked by the way he uses his mouth on you. The more he sucks and licks them, the worse the throbbing becomes in between your legs. You can’t help but push his head more into your breasts wanting him to ravage them more.

You rub his fully formed erection and try to get his pants off of him but he stops you.

“Oh are you ready baby? You want this?” He quips.

You nod your head, “yes, tell me what you like. I want to make you feel good,” you beg.

“Take off your dress for me, let me see you.” You pull down the rest of your dress and stand before him just in your panties. One by one, you undo the buttons on his shirt as you feel his eyes take in the sight before him.

Your hands shake slightly as you get to unbutton his pants and slowly pull down the zipper. You slide down the waist band of his slacks and to your surprise he’s not wearing any underwear, you watch as his large cock spring free from his pants.

You stare and bite your lip. You had no idea what to expect, but you were not expecting this. His cock was longer, and thicker than you expected and the way his veins running along his shaft made your mouth water by just looking at it. Your hands trail down his chest and graze over his length. He hisses at the contact and squeezes your arm.

You’ve never seen a man naked before, but you know this was as perfect as they come.

“Get on your knees for me baby,” he says gently as he sits back down on the bed, spreading his legs wide, looking like the definition of temptation. You kneel in between his legs, wanting to touch all of him so badly but wait for his instructions.

He picks up your hand and wraps it around his shaft. The length of him is warm and there is a clear fluid coming out of the head. He grabs your other hand and has you cup his rather large, heavy-hanging balls.

“What I’d like you to do for me, is just rub me in your hand, back and forth, then lick the head of my cock. Nice and slow like this,” he moves his hand on top of yours and you watch as his foreskin almost envelops his red, leaking head, and pull it back to see more of his protruding veins in his shaft. He has you gently squeeze his balls in your hand, causing his hips to move and dry hump into you. After a few strokes, he lets go of your hands and watches you. You love the small, airy sounds he makes as you put a little more pressure on it. His hips gently roll as he enjoys your hand working his cock.

“Now open your mouth for me, honey. Nice and wide and let me feel you.” You keep stoking him and do as he says. You open your mouth and he slowly guides the tip of his cock into your mouth. The hot heat touches your tongue and you moan. You wrap your lips around his head and suck.

A deep guttural growl comes out of him and you start to suck. This unbeknownst primal instinct takes over you and the smell of him fills your nose making you moan with him in your mouth.

“Oh yes, just like that mama. Just like that. Use your tongue a bit too. Lick and suck on me.” He groans out. You look up at his face looking so pleasured by this. His mouth is open in awe and watching you intently as you suck and stroke his cock.

You start to use your tongue licking and swirling around his head while sucking him.

You get more excited and decide to put more of him inside your mouth, doing the same motions he told you to. He gasps as you take more of him hungrily. You keep watching him as his eyes pop open and he lets out a loud moan. You test out what gets him going the most. You suck his tip, swirling your tongue around his swollen head, and squeeze his balls more making him buck his hips off the bed.

“Oh mama yes, that’s so good. Let me move in and out of your mouth now,” he moans hungrily and grabs a fist full of hair in his hand. You love the way he’s sounding. The way he’s getting off because of you is the most addicting sound and you want to take in more of his cock.

You place your hands on the tops of his thighs and he pushes his hips slightly, having you take in more of his length. You feel his head hit the back of your throat and you sputter and gag around him. He pulls his cock from your throat, making sure you’re okay, and watch as you claw at his thighs, ready for more.

You nod your head at him and take more of him in your mouth. You never thought giving head would be a thing you’d like, but watching him enjoy it so much was one of the hottest things you’ve ever experienced.

He continues to moan and tighten the grip on your hair. You move with him and he fills your mouth with his hot length. You try to relax your throat to not gag on him as much but he continues to plunge his cock down your throat, letting you breathe, then putting it back down your throat. He pulls out of you, pulling you from your hair and you let out a soft cry.

“Oh, honey you did so good. Making me feel so good. I could fuck that throat all night, but I need to take care of you now,” he teases and helps you get off your knees. He picks you up and places you on the bed with the pillows underneath your head and back.

He looks like he’s about to eat you alive and you wait patiently.

“How’s my honey doing? Are you feeling okay?” He says as he opens your legs wide for him. Your heart beats wildly out of your chest and feel more wetness pool.

“I need you. I’m throbbing and it won’t go away.” You plead and try to close your legs, hoping some sort of friction would help.

But he doesn’t let you and continues to keep them open, both of his hands on your knees. Looking at your soaked panties, he starts to trail his hand down to your panty line.

“I’m gonna touch you, honey. Making sure you’re all ready for me.” He growls when he feels the wetness that has seeped through the lace fabric. You jump at the friction and he tears them off in one quick motion.

His eyes grow wide as he looks at the wetness leaking out of you. He takes two fingers and slowly rubs your clit, causing an electric shock through your body.

“Oh fuck! What are you…,” your question fades as you moan loudly instead. He runs those two fingers up and down your folds, spreading your wetness and driving you mad. You arch your back and push into his fingers causing a mess in between your legs.

He smiles at the state you’re in, needy and horny, just how he wants you to stay.

“Have you ever played with yourself, honey? You ever put your fingers inside yourself?” He asks innocently.

You blush and have to look away, “I’ve played with myself a few times but umm, I’ve never put my fingers inside myself.” You say shyly. The idea never really popped into your head til now. Wanting Elvis’ fingers inside you sounded like a sin that was so delicious. You were so attracted to the idea.

“Hmm, I see baby. Have you ever made yourself cum?”

Your face turns another shade of red and quickly shake your head no, not wanting to see the reaction on his face.

“Well, I’ll teach you, honey. Make you feel so good. You are very needy tonight… you need something to fill you. Let me finger you and get you ready to take my cock,” he coos. You whine and try to move his hand down lower where the throbbing is growing.

He slowly takes his index finger and puts it in your weeping hole. You had never been penetrated by someone and the feeling of his long finger inside you is overwhelming. His long, slender finger reaches deep inside you while staying firmly taught around him. You buck your hips up into him and cry out.

“Mmm fuck you’re so tight for me baby. I don’t know if you’re ready for my cock.” He teases.

“Make me ready… I want you to fuck me with more than just your fingers,” you beg and buck your hips into him more.

“Oh you fucking naughty girl,” he moans as he pumps his finger in and out of you watching as you are writhing on the bed. You can’t control the sounds that are coming out of your mouth and love the way he’s reaching parts of you that had never been explored. He curls and prods them to your never before touched walls and you swear you’re going to pass out. He enters another finger and you feel this coil in your belly tighten exponentially. He starts to move them faster and curls his fingers up into your walls. Your vision goes blurry for a second, being consumed by the pleasure he is giving you with his skilled fingers. Your walls begin to flutter and he smirks at this, pumping them faster.

“Oh, I love the way this pussy feels. Do you think you’re ready for me? Ready to take all this cock inside ya?” You realize he loves to tease as he says this and look down as he has his cock in his hand, slowly jerking it off while looking down hungrily at your leaking cunt.

You squeeze your eyes shut and let out a frustrated cry.

“Please Elvis,” he pulls his fingers out of you and places them in his mouth, moaning when he tastes your sweet honey. He licks them clean and grabs the back of your thighs to adjust your body. He has you wrap your legs around his waist and you cling onto his shoulders. He jerks his cock in his hand and teases your entrance with just the tip. Every last nerve in your body is on edge and you claw at his arms in anticipation.

“Just relax mama. I’ve got you. It might hurt a little since your cherry hasn’t been popped but I promise it’s gonna feel so good after.” He coos and places sultry kisses on your lips. You moan, ready for him to give you anything he wants.

He’s gentle, and slowly pushes the first few inches of his cock inside you. The way he is stretching you causes you to gasp. He’s so much bigger than you expected and your body doesn’t know what to do.

You cry out his name as he sets this slow, but insistent pace. He grabs one of your breasts in his large hand and squeezes and pinches your nipples in between your fingers. You moan more with the mix of pain and pleasure coursing through your body.

He put more inside you and you feel this sharp pain inside you and you wince. Tears well in your eyes as you try to take him. You cry out as he moves in and out of you carefully. He sees the pain you’re in and holds you tighter.

“Doing so good baby,” he caresses you.

He keeps you there locked with him, caressing your face and looking at you as if you were the only thing that mattered. Everything about this felt so natural. The nerves that were filling your body moments ago were slowly dissipating and you were just enjoying the moment with him inside you. He thrusts his hips, putting the last few inches inside you and you let out a loud moan. He keeps still as he enjoys seeing you like the way he’s making you feel.

“Such a good girl for me baby. Doing so good. Your cherry popped. It’s gonna feel so good now,” he says as you look down at his long length moving in and out of you. You see some light spotting of your blood around his shaft but the pleasure starts to build the more he’s moving. You watch as he rubs your clit and pushes the rest of his cock inside you again. You feel his balls hit your ass and he doesn’t move as he lets you adjust to the size of him.

“Oh fuck Elvis, you’re killing me holy fuck.” You cry out, gasping for breath.

“Mmm, yea baby? You like how this big cock fills you up?”

You claw at his back, needing him to move and help this never-ending pulsating in your core.

“God, yes I love it. Please give me more,” he nods his head and smiles down at you.

He begins to move his hips and the pain has disappeared. Nothing but pleasure is running through your veins. He moves with more rhythm as he bucks and swirls his hips into you. He places his thumb over your clit and starts to work at it.

Your eyes roll back and let the feeling of what he’s giving you take over your body.

“So goddamn tight for me baby. Taking this cock so well,” he grunts over you as he starts to fuck you faster.

You can’t stop the noises that are coming out of you, loving every second of how he’s fucking you and making you come apart on his cock. The sounds of your skin slapping against his and the wet noises coming from your pussy were driving you both crazy.

Your walls flutter and your whole body tenses. There’s panic in your eyes and Elvis knows it by the look on your face.

“It’s okay darlin I got you. You’re gonna come for me,” he commands and looks deep in your eyes. “I feel you ready to come apart all over me.”

Your whole body tenses and the heat of the orgasm washes over you over and over again. You scream out his name as your walls squeeze his girth. Your nails leave red marks down his back and he only fucks you harder. He lets out a deep, primal growl as he fucks you through your orgasm. You relish in the way this feels and can’t believe you’ve never even given yourself this feeling!

“Mmm fuck, such a good girl. Your pussy feels so good. Keep coming for me,” he pleads as his thumb works faster on your clit.

Your body feels like it’s never felt before. Feeling so light yet so on edge with the way his cock is filling you up and stretching you out. You watch as he lifts your hips up and continues to pound into you.

Taking this new position makes it feel completely different and love the way he’s hitting this particular part inside of you that makes you feel like you can cum all over again on him.

By the look on his face, he is loving every second of this. The way he bites his lower lip and the way sweat has formed on the sides of his temples. You watch as you see the veins on his neck pop out as he fucks you to the hilt.

His rhythm starts to become more sporadic and his eyebrows furrow as he tries to hold on a bit longer. You love the way he’s taking you and can’t get enough of how he fills you up. Your coil in your belly tightens gets again and you let your second orgasm take over your entire body. He groans loudly as you cum on him, squeezing the base of his cock.

“Ah hell, mama. I love it when you cum on me. I’m so close. Where’d you want me to cum?” He agonizingly says through his teeth.

Your brain races, fuzzy from your high of orgasm and unsure what to say. This has never happened before for you and weren't sure exactly what an orgasm would be like for him.

“I want you back in my mouth please Elvis,” you whine breathlessly.

He pulls out of you quickly and you groan at feeling so empty. Your arousal pools out of you and onto the comforter.

He re-adjusts your body by lifting you up underneath your arms and sits you up. He stands up on his knees and puts his cock in front of your lips. He takes his hand and jerks himself in front of you, placing his free hand on the back of your head.

“Open that mouth for me, baby, I’m gonna fill this mouth up,” your heart beats uncontrollably and you grab the back of his thighs, preparing yourself for whatever he is going to give you.

He leans his head back and his mouth opens as you feel hot, salty spurts of his cum land on your tongue and the back of your throat. He places more of his cock in your mouth and you lick the base of it, causing him to moan your name loudly.

“Oh fuck, oh god mama yes take this cock baby,” he groans in ecstasy. Your mouth fills with his cum and waits for him to come down from his high. You had never had this happen before so you don’t know what to do with his load.

He pulls out of your mouth, breathless from it all, and watches you with your mouth open for him, seeing the milky white substance coating your mouth.

“Such a good girl baby. Time to swallow,” he taps your chin and you close your mouth. You look up at him and swallow in one big gulp. The taste of his salty, thick load coated your throat and you have to swallow a few times to fully clear your throat.

He looks down at you pleased, looking at how you’re breathless too and your mascara running down your face.

“Mmm, such a hungry slut you are,” you groan, leaning down to kiss you. You moan into his mouth as he nips your bottom lip.

“Did you like that baby? Did I make you feel good?” He caresses your face, wiping the black streaks from your face.

“That was… incredible… I had no idea what to expect but it wasn’t that,” you say exasperated.

He has that cocky grin on his face you’ve seen so many times in pictures come to life and you wanted to wipe it right off of him.

“We’ll good darlin', that’s what I wanted for your first time,” he says tenderly and places a few soft kisses on your lips.

He gets off the bed and goes to grab you a towel. He gently rubs the wetness and blood off of you and himself. The way he is so tender yet so dominating throws you for a loop but you just sit back and enjoy the moment.

“Did you want to go back to the party? We can stay here, it’s completely up to you,” he asks as he hands you your dress.

“I wouldn’t mind going back to the party and having some food. I’m kinda hungry,” you say cutely. You start to get up off the bed and it suddenly hits you. Elvis ripped your panties off of you… you’re going to have to walk back into that party without any on.

“Elvis, how am I supposed to go back out there without any panties on! You completely ruined them!” You snicker.

He laughs at your disgruntled state.

“Correction darlin’, you ruined your panties, I just took them off of ya to help that needy pussy of yours,” he teases. “And besides, I like you better without them. You’ll just have to behave and not soak through your dress for the rest of the night,” he sneers as he grabs you by his hips and pushes you into him. A small groan escapes you and smile up at him.

“You wanna put money on that?” you wink at him.

Tagging 💖

@powerofelvis @plasticfantasticl0ver @burninlovebutlerr @ab4eva @cryingabtab @returntoelvis @kendralavon7 @peaceloveelvis @waiting4brucewayne2adoptme @woundmetender @thatbanditqueen @kaitaesupremacy @eliseinmemphis @alyssaraen @18lkpeters @lookingforrainbows @presleysdarling @marriedtopresley @presleyenterprise @missmaywemeetagain @succsessions @yagirlalexx

#elvis presley #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis smut #elvis imagine #elvis x reader #elvis x oc #elvis x y/n #elvis fans #elvis x you #elvis fanfiction #70s elvis

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bcacstuff · 6 months

Note

So, I know you don’t think there was much to Sam and Monika Clarke after those photos showed up in March of 2022. This ask isn’t about them,btw. Whatever those photos were it was 18+ months ago. Since you usually try to be as logical as you can, have you seen any evidence that you think is credible of anyone he has actually dated since then? Like more than one date here or there. It’s like those photos dropped, then supposedly the photographer said around Easter of ‘22 that they “ broke up so he could go back to an ex.” But we haven’t seen any ex that he’s actually dated. Have we?

Since those photos there’s been innuendo about Katrina K, Karina E, Chloe M, Georgia E, Susie E and probably a couple names I forgot . Have you seen any logical proof that makes you think he ACTUALLY dated any of them?

I’m starting to think he’s pretty happy on his own and very tired himself of all the innuendo. Most of us settle a little more as we get into our 40’s- whether that means a relationship or just being content on our own. Maybe he’s decided that he won’t seriously try to date again unless it’s someone he really wants to be with. It’s got to be difficult to get someone to date him if she knows about this fandom and honestly, about his dating record of the past 10 years. (We don’t know much about what he was like before OL.) I kind of hope he’s doing some serious reflection on where he wants to be professionally and personally post Outlander and whether that includes a relationship or not. I also hope he’s getting some counseling, if he wants it, to help him figure out who he wants to be in the next phase of his life and to help him with his own self-proclaimed personal issues.

Just wondering if you have seen signs of real dates, or if these patterns of assuming he is dating any woman even thought to be connected to him are just the same old stuff that’s been happening for years in this fandom.

Ugh... where to start...

In general, I can only say, a pattern of speculations and innuendos about rumors/dating/affairs connecting women to him are most of the time kept alive by the fandom, or should I say certain parts of the fandom itself that thrive by it, or desperately wants to connect him with a woman.

After the MC pics, which actually ended the speculation about AM, with whom he was seen a number of times. A video in London as well as pics and videos in Paris. Especially the Paris videos surely implied an affair with AM. Shortly after the Paris trip (and rumored skitrip after Paris) he went to LA and NZ. People tried to keep the affair alive, telling he would be in SA with her, and she would come with him to NZ. They certainly would be together for Valentine's Day. Needless to say, nothing of the kind happened and AM became old news when the MC pics surfaced beginning of March 2022.

Beyond the infamous cafe kiss nothing ever could connect her in anyway to him. Nevertheless, innuendo was created on the fly by the usual ones. Even when he was spotted in a YT video with KK end of April 2022. The vibe wasn't one of a date or affair though, and couldn't stop the MC speculations.

Summer came with the usual flood of names sent to inboxes. KE was one of them, and became a bit more interesting when he appeared to be on a roadtrip. Even after he posted some pics from it by himself, and after posting the video of his 48 hours in LV, speculation about MC was still kept alive. All the pics that could be found from the John L concert in LV were analyzed and yes, he was spotted in some with 'a woman'. Though that far away that it was merely impossible to positively identify the woman. The queen of innuendo even identified her as MC in the beginning. Until someone spotted the infamous dog in the cowboy pics of his roadtrip... that's when KE became speculation number one so to say.

A pic with her has never been seen, never was there anything else than the rumored dog. Despite many attempts to connect her or even put her in the same place as him, all proof of that is circumstantial and most of it even far fetched. So much that up to today she hasn't been out of the speculations and innuendo.

Do you see the pattern, and how it is created by certain parts of this fandom? I bet, with an open mind, you can all confirm we've seen exactly the same the past months.

GE, nothing else but spotted at the athletic games in Ratingen, Germany on a Sunday. Based on some history, someone kept sending the most fantastic innuendo to my inbox all summer. Cinderella and Kristina S, Emily S, nothing but innuendo, not even the slightest shred of suspicion.

Susie E. People take it for granted she's the woman on the booze boat, I'm sorry, I'm waiting patiently for the white Prada sunnies or the blue bikini on her IG. A video in the suite at Shutters where he recorded an interview is somewhat questionable, but doesn't make an affair nor a romantic weekend. Telling me she was not posting on IG isn't evidence she was on a romantic trip to Nevis with him. All innuendo created by the fandom.

I'm pretty much with you Anon 1, about the last part of your message and your conclusions. We know some of his dating life before OL, he was described being a flirt in a very old article. He mentioned about dating an actress he worked with during his theater days during Waypoints interviews as well as mentioning some other stories about dating. Nothing new, he said himself he had dates, he's not living the life of a monk. Being single doesn't mean you have all kind of issues, though he mentioned some things from his youth.

Anyway, more and more people live a single life or only find their partner later on in life. We all make our own choices based on our own priorities, opportunities and challenges we see before us.

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rodolfoparras · 19 days

Text

So yesterday marks the very first time I’ve posted a fic on here

I had written fics before but this was my first ever 18+ fic

Before I started writing for the cod fandom I had stuck to reading cod fics on ao3 specifically price pieces and I rmr one day wanting to read a fic where price teaches reader how to smoke cigars but I just knew there wasn’t an x male reader piece around so I decided to write it myself

I spent a month researching how to write smut trying to get a proper feel of price’s character and translate those very same traits into my own fic

And when I was completely done with it I almost didn’t post it but I did and I believe in one day I got 200 notes which was insane. I didn’t know how active people were on tumblr I really just wanted to create a price piece and do what I love which is writing

The next piece took 3 weeks before I posted it mostly because I was picking and poking at it but then I told myself you know if I’m going to be running a writing blog I have to write more often

So I pushed myself to write more often and back then I had just started to become fixated with price so I had plenty of ideas at hand

Slowly but surely I started to post more and more pieces and my blog started to grow. From April to maybe June month I had gotten two requests and maybe one ask where it was an anon who was just interested in talking to me and I rmr feeling over the moon about it

And then June month I started to grow rapidly like I really was there like whats going on 🧍🏻 i rmr the writers i looked up to became mutuals with me and i genuinely couldnt believe this was happening.

june- september i felt myself become more confident in my writing and i started to write like every 2-3 days and that’s when so many of you guys joined my blog and i rmr just being surprised that so many of you wanted to talk to me and that i went from one anonie to having a little council of yall

then november - February came around and that period is usually the worst for my mental l health but writing and having you guys show so much love not only for my work but also and it genuinely helped me so much

now its been a year of writing fics and im just really appreciative

also its so cool to be able to see how much ive grown how i went from spending a month on writing a fic to being able to produce pieces im actually proud of in the span of 3 days it's also fun to see how much knowledge ive gained by just writing like ill find myself reading pieces and im able to see minimal adjustment i can make that while make the scene flow whiles before id be questioning my grammar in every sentence

so what i want to say with this yapping is thank you guys and if youre someone who wants to get into ff writing pls do so

at first you'll feel like a weed in a garden but as times goes on you’ll realize how much you and your work has made the garden bloom🫶🏻

#not writing #this is just me yapping

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local-redhead-bookworm · 1 year

Text

Some of the people in the Stranger Things fandom are absolute boneheads. I don’t care about whatever degree in psychology you have, if you think an 18-year-old boy who

was abandoned by his mother and left to live with his abusive father

was actively being abused up until he got flayed

had clear abandonment issues

showed behaviors that could easily fall into anxiety and/or PTSD or CPTSD

was groomed by a woman old enough to be his mom

was possessed by the Mind Flayer and was robbed of all bodily autonomy

sacrificed himself for the first person to show him kindness and compassion

used his final words to apologize to his sister

deserves to die, then you didn’t pay enough attention in those psychology classes, you don’t understand how abuse shapes people and the different effects it can have, and you should never, ever be allowed to practice. You don’t deserve a license if you think someone is undeserving of help.

“He was racist” debatable. Dacre has expressly stated he didn’t play Billy as racist, in spite of the Duffers’ initial attempts to write him that way, the original script even including “a far nastier piece of language” in regard to Lucas. Even the Duffers aren’t 100% sure if Billy is racist. And if Billy is racist, this is a small conservative Midwest town in the 80s and Billy is a Californian. He’s definitely not the worst one there. Most importantly, racism is learned and can be unlearned.

“He’s abusive” highly unlikely. The most we see is him yelling at Max once and grabbing her wrist once. This is all just after a very sudden move too, which inevitably makes things strained between family members. Even Max says that Billy wasn’t behaving that way before the move. Also if he was as abusive as y’all say he is, she wouldn’t be flipping him off, back-talking him, snooping around his room, and talking about him like he’s her annoying gross older brother. If he were abusive, she would be more scared of him.

“He tried to run over the kids” do you really think he would have risked jail time? Really? If he had actually wanted to run them over, Max wouldn’t have been able to turn the wheel.

“He tried to get with a married woman” I think you mean that a grown woman with a husband and children was sexually interested in an underaged boy and pursued him for nine months, was willing to have sex with him as soon as he was legal, stalked him to the point of having his work schedule memorized, and showed up at his workplace just so she could ogle him. It doesn’t matter that Billy initiated the flirting, Karen is an adult and she knows better. She only backed out because she didn’t want to ruin her own cushy life by sleeping with Billy, not because she realized that sleeping with a boy young enough to be her son was wrong.

“He’s homophobic” he’s quite literally not. There’s zero indication of that. He’s actually one of only three characters to be called a homophobic slur (the other two being Will and Jonathan). You’re making things up now.

Your arguments are boring and baseless, and your treatment of anyone who likes Billy is abominable. The sheer amount of horrendous things I’ve seen my friends be called because they like Billy (racial slurs, victim blaming, weight shaming, suicide baiting, saying they deserved the abuse they experienced, wishing death and rape on them) is actually disgusting. Behave like civilized people, stay in your lane, and if something upsets you that much, don’t interact with it.

#billy hargrove #anti billy hargrove #I’m arguing with a wall here but y’all are annoying #if he upsets you stay out of his tag

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ladamedusoif · 9 months

Text

Visiting - Chapter 9: Open Your Eyes

(Moodboard by @cutesyscreenname)

Pairing: Professor!Ben (College AU) x OFC Lydia/fem!Reader (reader POV/2nd POV)

Summary: Seeking a change of scenery after her life falls apart, Lydia crosses the Atlantic and arrives in a small New England town, to spend a year expanding her intellectual horizons as a visiting professor of art history at a small liberal arts college. Her growing friendship with Ben Morales, professor of Hispanic literature, forces Lydia to confront the fallout from her past - and raises unexpected questions about the future.

Chapter summary: It's the new year and the new semester. Reunited in Barrow for the first time since her hasty departure, Lydia and Ben have some talking to do.

Word Count: 10.2k (they have a lot to get through!)

Rating: Explicit (MDNI; 18+)

Content (chapter specific): Professor Ben College AU; smaller-than-usual-for-this-fandom age gap (Lydia is 42, and Ben is 47); canon is not a thing here; slow burn; idiots-to-lovers; smut; fingering; PiV sex; strong language; alcohol consumption; weight and body insecurity; serious self-esteem issues; references to panic attacks and anxiety disorders; references to past infidelity (not by Ben or Lydia); angst central.

A/N: The title of this chapter is inspired by something Ben says to Lydia, which then made me think of this song by Snow Patrol. The video is a slightly edited version of C'était un rendez-vous, a 1976 short by the French director Claude Lelouch, so I feel that it fits this pair of idiots on multiple levels. (I frickin' love this film and I think it works gorgeously for the song.)

youtube

Thank you to everyone who's shown so much love for this pair so far - every comment, reblog, like, interaction, ask is just a joy to me.

Further A/N at the end of the chapter.

See the Series Masterlist for an outline of Lydia's story and background.

Cross-posting to AO3.

Chapter 8 - Chapter 10

@lunapascal and @julesonrecord - this has been a tough chapter, again, and I've needed the guidance and encouragement along the way. Thank you, as always, for your love for the dorksicles as well as your incredibly wise and insightful suggestions and editorial eyes. Bendie are forever thankful. You may well spot some of your specific suggestions in this chapter...

Taglist:

@lunapascal, @julesonrecord, @cutesyscreenname, @tessa-quayle, @vermillionwinter, @iamskyereads, @tieronecrush, @perennialdoll247, @love-the-abyss, @imaswellkid, @intheorangebedroom, @javierisms, @fuckyeahdindjarin, @littlemisspascal, @khindahra, @pedrostories, @readingiskeepingmegoing, @ruebyretro, @rhoorl, @red-red-rogue, @princessanglophile, @katareyoudrilling

Your father interpreted your tears at the airport in January as homesickness.

“Just think, Lyd, it’s only a few more months, really.” He pats your arm, reassuring you as he always has. “And then you’ll be back over this side of the pond again and back to your real job and your normal life. And not so far away from all of us!”

You cried into his shoulder as you hovered near the entrance to the security screening area.

A final hug, a wipe of your tears, a brave face, and a wave goodbye.

You were homesick, or something like it. In this case, though, you were homesick for someone, not somewhere; homesick for him, for his smile, his kindness, his eyes, his careful embrace, his humour, his gentle strength.

And you were sick to your stomach with the constant, nagging fear that you had already destroyed that new and fragile home, all by yourself.

You knew he wouldn’t be back in Barrow until just before teaching resumed for the new semester - a long-standing plan to make additional use of his time on the west coast by getting some research done in specialist libraries.

You are torn between relief at not having to see him yet, not having to deliver your promised explanation, and feeling deeply anxious about the impact of the prolonged separation on Ben’s feelings towards you. He had suggested before Christmas that space was needed, and you’d agreed. The more significant that space became, however, the more you worried.

It wasn’t as if you were back in normal contact. Save for an exchange on New Year’s Eve, when you’d received a message from him sent at exactly midnight your time (and you reciprocated, setting your alarm so that you would wake just before midnight California time to send the message), there’d been next to no communication.

Kate reassures you via FaceTime. “Lyd, calm down. Like I said at Christmas, if this is all it takes to change his feelings then it’s a doomed enterprise.”

“I think it might be a doomed enterprise anyway, what with me having to go back to my job over there in September.”

She rolls her eyes. “Alright, Apocalypse Lyd. Go on, catastrophise all you want. Not like anyone ever did a long-distance relationship or anything. Have you seen him yet?”

You shake your head. “He’s on research in California - pre-planned. Not back until next week.”

“You ready to talk it out?”

You pause, close your eyes, and take a deep breath. “Honestly? I won’t know until I see him again.”

“Happy New Year, Lydia!”

No such thing as January blues as far as Susan is concerned. You reach into your tote bag to retrieve a box of candies you’d picked up as a gift for her. “How were the holidays? I hope you got a well-deserved rest.”

You can hear her sincere expressions of gratitude and surprise as she starts to answer your question, but your mind is elsewhere. You cast your eyes along the rows of wooden cubby holes, each labelled with a staff member’s name.

B.E. MORALES

The sight of his full name makes your heart hurt.

“…and that is why Nick’s mother is never doing the holidays with us again, so help me.” Susan pauses. “Lydia, are you okay? Don’t take this personally, but you look terrible.”

Hard not to take that personally, Susan.

You try to rearrange your features into something resembling a smile. “It’s probably just jet lag or something. And I had my hands full at home with the niblings - they’re both under four so…” you make a goofy face and shrug your shoulders, hoping to distract from the bags under your eyes and your worn-out complexion.

Susan studies you for a moment and then beams. “Been there, done that! Nothing a cup of coffee won’t fix.”

Shit. The mention of coffee conjures up a mental image of Ben at your office door, armed with the two mugs. When you remember the smile on his face that last day you scrunch up your eyes, as if in pain.

You fucked it up, Lyd.

The rest of the week passes in a grey haze. You oscillate between anxiety and profound sadness, cortisol rushing through your veins as you try to work out how you can fix it, and then a feeling of absolute exhaustion as you realise you probably can’t. Your to-do list mounts, unable even to distract yourself with work.

The worst part is the knowledge that you did this. You’ve got no one else to blame. You freaked out. You ran away. You wrote your stupid note and you left him, all because you didn’t want to give in to the reality of your feelings - and the risk of loss that always comes with that.

Of course you fucked it up. You always do. You’re broken. Who would ever want you?

With a week to go before teaching, you lock into preparation mode. It’s a useful distraction, checking reading lists, planning seminar and workshop outlines, and catching up with some of your students who’ve already returned to campus.

You arrange a tutorial with Nia, one of the students in the additional workshop groups run as part of Ben’s equality and diversity initiative, to discuss her initial plans for an “un-essay” assignment - a form of assessment that allows the student to respond to the brief in any number of creative ways.

Her un-essay ideas include a reflective piece on food in poetry by Black women writers - with accompanying dishes. She’s a bright, smart girl, keen to tell you all the books she read over the break and compare notes on your choice of holiday movies.

Just before she leaves your office, she picks up her tote bag and rummages inside, producing a pretty, round tin and placing it on your desk.

“Made you some of my peanut butter cookies. I noticed you like Reese’s, so I assumed you might like these, too.”

You beam at Nia, heart swelling at the sweet thoughtfulness of her gesture. “You’re so kind! I can’t wait to try these.”

She reciprocates your smile as she heads to the door. “There’s plenty there for you and Professor Ben to share. See you in class!”

Wait. What? Did the students think… shit. Maybe she just said that because he ran the programme. That was probably it.

You open the tin, take out a cookie, and try not to think about it.

ANI: Hey Lyd! I’m just in the neighbourhood, you home?

LYDIA: Yep, just putting away some laundry. You want to pop by?

ANI: Great! See you soon.

You buzz Ani in, leaving your front door open as usual once you hear their steps on the stairs. “Hey, Lyd. Just thought I’d call round to say hi,” Ani explains, taking off their big winter coat and hanging it on the coat rack in the hallway.

“You want some tea? Or something stronger?”

Ani nods, settling themselves on your couch. “Tea would be amazing.”

“Sure thing.” You continue the conversation from your tiny kitchen. Ani reminds you of the drinks party at Jen’s house on Friday night, in two days’ time - it’s her wife, Rachel’s, birthday, and she’s invited some faculty colleagues.

Given how close she is to Ben, having joined the faculty at the same time, he’ll almost certainly be there - assuming he’s back by then. You feel nauseous.

Ani gratefully takes their cup of hot tea - made strong, as they prefer - crosses their legs, and looks at you with what you suspect is concern. “Lyd, are you doing okay?”

“Why’d you ask?”

They sigh, placing the steaming cup down on the coffee table as you join them on the couch. “Lyd, you’ve been completely out of sorts since you came back. And I’m pretty sure it’s not just homesickness, as you claimed when Evan asked you if you were okay earlier this week.”

You open your mouth, ready to protest, but Ani shakes their head and places a hand on your knee to still you.

“We’re worried about you, Lyd. Obviously, it’s up to you what you do or don’t want to tell me, but just know that I am here for you. That we’re here for you.”

You sip your tea and nod, averting your eyes.

Ani purses their lips, hands wrapped around their cup. “I could be way off with this, and yell at me if I am. But - Lyd, is there - was there - something happening between you and Ben?”

You stare at the floor, afraid you’ll give too much away in your expression if you look at them directly.

“Lydia? If I’ve got this wrong, tell me. If it’s something else…”

Your voice is almost inaudible. “It’s not. I mean, you’re not wrong. That is… yeah. How did you know?”

Ani sips their tea, allowing themselves a little smile. “I mean I didn’t know know, I just had a feeling. I knew you guys were close but it’s academia, y’know? That’s not unusual, and he really wanted to help you settle in. But then we went out for your birthday, that’s what made me really wonder.”

You raise your eyebrows, still hunched up staring at the floor. They take their phone out of their bag, swiping through their photo album back through the weeks and months to your birthday weekend. “Look, we’re academics - we love the evidence, we search for proof. So here’s my source.”

Ani presses play on a video that, at first glance, is a selfie of them dancing at the bar with Evan, making faces into the camera.

“Lyd, look at the action in the background.”

Even the slightly out-of-focus footage has captured the huge smiles on both your faces as Ben reaches for you and you move together in time with the music. He beams at you, eyes crinkling as he laughs when you throw in an extra move. Your eyes are shining. Your joy is so obvious, so beautiful after so many years of numbness and hurt, and so painful knowing what you would do to him just a few weeks later.

Ani breaks the silence and tries to lighten the mood. “Basically, since then I’ve been waiting for you guys to finally wise up and just fuck. It took ages to convince Ev, for some reason. I think he was pissed that I saw it first. And then it turned out that David was on the ball first. Evan was furious.” You huff a laugh, covering your face with your free hand.

“When I heard you’d spent Thanksgiving together, I thought the Eagle had landed. Wrong, of course.”

“We, um - we did kiss on Thanksgiving. But we thought it was by mistake.”

Ani rolls their eyes. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ. Fucking dorks. Fucking idiots, in fact.”

You giggle in spite of yourself. “And - David. He saw it in how we were together. He - he told me he thought Ben had feelings for me a couple of days before I went home for the holidays, and -”

“And I think he might have told Ben the same, to help you two realise. Or at least, to help you act on what you already knew.” Their voice is gentle and kind. “Are you going to tell me what happened?”

“I…shit.” You stammer, tripping over your words and trying not to cry. “I did something really fucking stupid. I ruined it, like I always do, and now I can’t fix it and -“

The tears start to fall.

“I don’t know what to do. I… he’s really hurt. I hurt him, Ani. I care about him so much and I fucking hurt him. I don’t think I can make it right.”

Ani wraps an arm around you, pulling you in for a hug.

“Start at the beginning, Lyd. And whatever happened, you probably can fix this, you know?”

Ani puts their hands on your shoulders as you stand on Jen and Rachel’s doorstep. Their dark eyes are serious but kind, their face framed by an enormous black faux fur Cossack hat.

“What do you got, Lyd?”

You bite your lip. “I…I got this.”

“You got this. Let’s go, girl.”

At first, you think he didn’t come. You move through the hallway into Jen and Rachel’s spacious, open-plan living and dining room, scanning the clusters of guests for a familiar face. A mixture of relief and disappointment floods your brain. You can relax now, right? In search of a drink, you head for the kitchen, and -

He’s talking animatedly to a couple of colleagues from literature, those kind eyes crinkling behind his glasses as he smiles and laughs. He’s wearing a plaid Henley shirt in a sort of blue and purple flannel, with a dark blue cardigan over it. Hair neat, but long enough to brush the top of his shirt collar. As gorgeous as you remembered - more so, even.

Your heart races and your stomach leaps at the sight of him. Sure, you’re nervous. But it’s not just that. The physical symptoms of anxiety have much in common with the physiological manifestations of sexual and romantic attraction, after all, and a quick glance at him is enough to confirm just how bad you have it.

You reach for a glass of red wine from the selection of drinks set out on the kitchen island, and you beat a hasty retreat before he spots you.

He saw you, of course. He’s been watching and waiting for you, observing the other guests just as you’d done, simultaneously hoping and fearing he would look up and meet your gaze across the room.

Now that you’re there, he’s not entirely sure what he should do. Like you, he’s wary of confrontation, of taking action and getting it ‘wrong’, without knowing the consequences ahead of time.

But, despite the slight thaw caused by your sporadic contact over the break, he’s also hurt and more than a little stubborn. You left with just a note. You casually brushed off the night you spent together, in spite of everything he tried to show you about how he felt about you. Surely you needed to make the first move now?

Even so, his heart lifts when he sees you across the room. Photos on his phone don’t do you justice, don’t capture the way you move, the way your eyes catch the light, the essential you-ness that he has been so enamoured with.

He decides not to let on that he’s noticed you.

Ani catches up with you near one of the floor-to-ceiling fitted bookshelves that line the living room. “I know it’s easier to just hide here feigning interest in their book collection, Lyd, but -”

“I’m not feigning interest! I’m curious about other people’s books.” You tilt your head and continue reading the titles from the spines, until Ani moves their body between you and the books.

“Lydia. I swear to fucking God. He’s right fucking there,” Ani hisses, jerking their head in the direction of the kitchen. “I will march you in there and I will make you talk to each other.”

You can feel your palms getting clammy, and you place your wine glass down on a coaster in case it slips from your nervous grasp. “And what do I say, Ani? How do I do this? It’s not exactly private…”

They nod over at Rachel, who’s just come into the room, smiling and mouthing birthday wishes before turning back to you. “You’re a forty-two year old woman with a PhD, Lyd. It’s not beyond your capabilities to ask him to speak to you outside, or in their guest bathroom, or bedroom, or wherever.” Their tone is irritated, and you close your eyes as if shielding yourself from further hurt.

“Lyd, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be harsh. It’s just - come on. We talked about this. I know exactly what you feel for him. I have a hunch he feels the same for you - everything you said suggests it. You fucking care so much about each other.” They inhale deeply, lightly reaching for your hand. “Why not just tell him? From what you said about that night, you made it pretty clear you were into him, and vice versa.”

You open your eyes and meet Ani’s kind expression. “And if it’s what I fear? What if all the space we’ve had has convinced him nothing more can happen?”

They squeeze your hand. “Neither of us know what he’s going to say. But you’ve been through so much worse, Lyd. You survived the kind of shit that could destroy some people. So, if it’s bad now - well, you’ll survive again. And if it’s good -”

“Then I have to leave it all behind in a few months, when the fellowship is done.”

Ani cocks an eyebrow. “Now you’re just making fucking excuses. Come on,” they take your hand and usher you towards the dining table, laid out with snacks, “let’s get some chips and dip first. Call it sustenance for the campaign ahead.”

Ani’s strategy, it transpires, is to take one of the vintage Chip n’ Dip dishes and to saunter into the kitchen with it, moving steadily towards the cluster of literature professors as you trail behind.

They greet your colleagues enthusiastically and starts passing around the food. You can feel your face starting to burn as you try to cast a glance at Ben, to gauge his mood from the look on his face. You furtively take in his expression, and it breaks your heart. From the smiling, talkative man you’d seen when you arrived, his eyes have darkened and his lips are set in a firm line.

Ani quietly nudges you, encouraging you to make the first move and break through the invisible shield he’s placing between the two of you.

Your mouth is dry and your palms are clammy as you start to speak to him. You try not to think about the last time you’d seen him. “H-h-hi. D-did you enjoy the holidays?”

He turns slightly towards you, still avoiding looking at you directly. “They were good. Nice to be with family.” He sighs and takes a large sip of his wine.

Silence. It’s all you can do to avoid your natural tendency to fill the gap with rambling chit-chat. You nudge him slightly out of the group to avoid being overheard.

“Could we talk, just for a few minutes? I need to -“

At this, he finally makes eye contact with you, and the hurt in his brown eyes is almost more than you can bear. He responds quietly but firmly.

“You want to talk? You want to talk, here? Now? At a party?” He sounds incredulous.

“I told you I’d explain, and I told you it would be easier to do that face to face. So, here we are.” You bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from starting to cry or lashing out, channeling your anxiety and irritation into sarcasm. “Forgive me for taking this rare opportunity to have a very important conversation with you,” you hiss.

He huffs and rolls his eyes. “I don’t know what you really need to say, anyway,” he mutters quietly, “you made your feelings clear.” His expression is hard as he steps away and moves to walk out of the kitchen. In a reflex action, you reach out and lightly touch his wrist. He turns back for a moment.

“I told you I was sorry and that I could explain. That note… that’s not my feelings.” You drop your head to stare at the floor, before lifting it back to meet his gaze. “If you want to talk to me, I’ll be out at the front porch, okay? I need some fresh air, anyway. But I also really want a chance to talk. Please.”

And he’s gone.

You didn’t think through the whole ‘outdoor chat’ thing. New England January nights are colder than anything you’ve regularly experienced before, and you have been sitting on the front steps of Jen and Rachel’s home for what feels like forever. In truth, it’s been about ten minutes - but the more time that goes by without any sign of Ben, the more you despair. Although you’re snuggled into your bulky winter coat, face barely visible underneath your warm, red cable-knit hat and scarf set, the cold is starting to bite.

You tug off a glove and reach into your pocket for your phone, composing a message for Ani:

Hey. I asked him to come out and talk but he doesn’t want to. I’m going home - just can’t be in there. I’m sorry - please apologise to Rachel and Jen for me, say I’m sick or something. x

You start off down the path from the front door to the pavement, double-checking the route on your phone. The house isn’t too far away from your apartment building, and a walk might help clear your head.

“You’re fucking kidding me.”

The snowflakes cling to your coat and hat, the flurries intensifying quickly. You swipe open the app on your phone, fingers stiff in the freezing weather. No cabs.

“Fuck this.”

As you round the block and head for home, the tears start to fall, soaking into the woollen scarf wrapped around your mouth.

“Where’s Lyd? Did you talk to her?”

Ani finds Ben sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the shelves displaying Rachel’s substantial record collection, flipping through the vinyls as if he’s looking for something in particular.

He isn’t. He just can’t bear trying to be normal and socialise with everyone else again, not after seeing you. There’s an ache in his chest as he thinks about the pleading look in your eyes when you asked him to come and hear what you had to say.

His stomach churns as he wonders if you’re still waiting for him.

He feigns interest in a copy of Blonde on Blonde, staring at the liner notes like he’s never seen the record before in his life. “She said she wanted to talk, that she’d meet me outside, but I - I couldn’t.”

Ani looks murderous and runs a hand over their dark curls.

“You couldn’t? Or wouldn’t?”

“Does it matter? Given that you’re asking about this, I’m assuming you know what happened.”

Ani scoots down to sit beside Ben on the floor. Their voice is low but intense. They are not mincing their words.

“I know what happened. I know that she messed up. I have told her she messed up. She knows she messed up. But I also know why she messed up and that you need to hear her out. If not for your sake or her sake, then for all our sakes. I can’t take much more of the two of you moping around like this.”

He shrugs. Ani rolls their eyes.

“So help me, Benjamin Morales, you can be a stubborn fucking asshole.”

Ben furrows his brow and sucks his teeth.

Jen appears, her attention caught by the sight of Ani visibly berating Ben from their spot on the floor. “Have you spoken to Lydia, Ben?”

Ani raises their brows. “How did you know?”

Jen waves her hand, as if exasperated by her old friend. “I had my suspicions, eventually got it out of him earlier this week, now he’s being an idiot because he’s not doing what I told him and going to speak to Lyd.” She looks around her living room. “Where is Lyd?”

“Outside,” Ben mutters.

Jen, face like thunder, pokes him in the back with the toe of her block-heeled boot. “I love you like a brother but if you don’t get the fuck out and find that woman, I will never speak to you again.”

You wrap your scarf tighter around your face, trying to shield yourself from the increasingly heavy snowfall. You have never been so grateful for the solid strength and warmth of your dark red Dr Martens.

Thank fuck I wore jeans and a blouse, you think. Could have been the wrap dress.

You pause for a moment to give your face a break from the onslaught of the snow and wind, turning your back to the persistent flurries.

“LYD?”

At first, you think you’re imagining it. It’s a noise on the wind, whipping snow at your face and burying your heart cold and deep.

“LYDDIE?”

That is definitely not a noise on the wind.

You turn around to see Ben steadily walking towards you, his black Dr Martens shoes crunching through the fresh snow that’s already covering your footprints.

He’s wearing the merino wool watchcap you made him for Christmas, the Prussian blue perfectly complementing the navy wool of his pea coat. A little voice inside you pipes up that he couldn’t hate you, at least, if he was wearing something you’d made for him with your own two hands.

“What the hell, Lyd?” He’s beside you, now, covered in a dusting of snow, big dark eyes staring intently into yours from behind his slightly fogged-up spectacles. “What are you doing out here?”

You are physically shaking with nerves and cold. “I wanted to talk to you, I wanted to explain, I told you where I would be, and…” you sniffle, glad of the snow as an excuse for your tears and red eyes, “And you didn’t even want to hear it. You didn’t even want to talk to me.” Your teeth chatter. “So…so I d-d-decided to g-g-go h-h-h-home.”

You wipe at your eyes with your gloved hands. “Stupid snow makes m-m-me cry,” you offer, by way of an explanation.

He doesn’t quite know why he does it. Maybe it’s his own need for reassurance, his instinctive urge to give you comfort, or maybe it’s the fact that, deep down, he’s missed you.

Ben steps closer to you and wraps his arms around you, pulling you to him for a hug.

“I’m so sorry, Lyd.” He holds you tightly for a moment before pulling away. “I was being a dick. I do want to talk.”

“I’m g-g-going home. Come with me if you want, and hear m-me out.”

“Okay. Fuck, it’s freezing.” He reaches into his coat pocket for his phone.

“No cabs. It’s not that far.”

He nods. You reach over, instinctively, doing up the top button on his coat and pulling the knitted hat a little more firmly over his ears.

He brings a gloved hand to meet yours, and for a moment you think he’s going to push you away. Instead, he gives your hand a little squeeze.

“Let’s go.”

“Okay, heating is on, thermostat’s up, kettle is boiling to make some coffee - um, I know this is going to sound weird, but are you hungry? I think I had a single tortilla chip to eat at Jen’s.”

Ben is standing at the door of your tiny kitchen, an old, baggy hoodie of yours over his shirt and cardigan as an extra layer of heat, arms crossed over his chest and hands rubbing his upper arms as he tries to warm up.

“I’m fucking s-s-starving.”

You have an urge to wrap your arms around him and get warm by sharing your body heat. But you haven’t even talked about it, yet.

“Okay, well…” You poke your head into the fridge and freezer in succession. “I’ve got a frozen pizza.”

“F-f-fucking perfect.”

It all feels a little too normal as you sit in the living area with your coffees, waiting for the pizza to cook. You’ve wrapped yourself in your crocheted blanket while you warm up, legs tucked under you on the couch and hands gripping your mug for warmth.

“I feel like I should be starting to explain,” you say, glancing down at your coffee.

Ben shakes his head. “Let’s eat, first, and then we can talk. Better not to do that hungry.”

There’s still a few minutes before the pizza will be done. You try to make the most of these moments of “normality”, before you have to try to explain your actions to him and hope that he feels the same as you.

“I did love your holiday makeover, by the way.”

He turns to look at you, a little smile creeping across his lips.

“You know I only got the polish off two days before I came back? Glitter is resilient.” He laughs to himself. “I think Jules liked doing it, though. How’s your gift-wrap injury?”

“Healed up. More worrying is the fact I don’t think I’ve located all of the stickers Cora put on my person over the break. I’m concerned one will turn up in some strange part of my body.”

Ben raises his eyebrows. “If I spot any unexpectedly I’ll be sure to signal it.”

“You had a good time at home, though?”

He nods. “It was great to be with them all. You?”

“Same. Good to be home.”

You are reminded of the tears you shed at the airport, homesick not for your family but for him.

“Thing is, I was glad to come back.” He looks up at you, eyes curious. “Because this feels like home, too.”

You eat the pizza companionably on the couch, washed down with cans of soda. Ben offers to stack the plates in the dishwasher. As he returns to the couch, you broach the subject.

“Can we talk?”

He nods and settles beside you. Your stomach does backflips at the prospect of having to finally say the words you’ve been mentally rehearsing since the day you left.

“I want to explain, and I want to - well, I want to try to make things right, because I did something wrong.” You look up at him, his dark eyes meeting yours, and it’s all you can do not to ditch the speech and try to show him what you feel in ways beyond words.

“I’m so, so sorry, Ben. I…”

And then he’s bridging the gap between your two bodies; gently caressing your face with his hands; tilting your head to meet his gaze. His eyes ask the question, and before you’ve finished nodding your assent his mouth is on yours and he’s kissing you like he’ll never get the chance again: hungry but tender, urgent but loving.

He brings his hands to wrap around your body, gently encouraging you to lie back on the couch and quickly pulling a cushion into position behind your head.

Your brain is shouting at you about how you need to do this properly, to talk first and then act, if you both want to.

Your body is responding rather differently. It couldn’t be any smoother if you’d rehearsed this: your legs opening wide to accommodate Ben’s gorgeous broadness, knees hitching around him as you try to pull him closer, hands tugging at the old hoodie, easing it off over his head, and fingers fumbling to undo the buttons on his flannel shirt.

He breaks away from the kiss, moving his mouth to the side of your neck and working his way down to your chest with a succession of kisses, gentle nibbles, and light sucking, interspersed with little moans and whispers of your name. You can feel his hands roving under your blouse, loosening your tank from the waistband of your jeans so he can feel your soft, warm flesh in his hands.

You gasp at the sensation. Your body is silently screaming for Ben, begging wordlessly for him to unzip your jeans and slip his hand between your soaking folds. Even so, your brain still wants to have a say.

“Ben…Ben… wait.” He pulls away but remains close to your body, looking up at you.

“You want me to stop, Lyd?”

You shake your head. “No, never, but… we were supposed to talk and -”

“We will.” He places a soft kiss to your exposed décolletage, and you moan.

You pull him towards you and kiss him firmly on the mouth, lifting your hips towards his and feeling the friction of him, already hard in his dark jeans.

“Fuck, Lyd…”

“Fuck it, we can talk later.” You encourage him to move off you and wriggle yourself off the couch, taking him by the hand. “C’mon, let’s go to bed.”

You’re lying on your bed, Ben’s solid, comforting weight on top of you, both of you working urgently, desperately, to undress each other. You’d eased him out of his flannel shirt as soon as you got into the bedroom, pausing for a moment to admire his beautiful body in the slim-fit grey T-shirt he was wearing underneath before peeling it off him as you fell onto the bed.

He’s murmuring into your ear and trailing his lips down the line of your neck as his fingers undo the buttons on your blouse. “Fucking missed you so fucking much, Lyd,” he mutters, sucking so perfectly at your neck that you feel like your entire body is arching off the mattress. He sits you up slightly so he can tug away the blouse and peel off your tank top, tossing it aside as he reaches around to unhook your bra.

His big hands grope your tits, fingers gently pinching your nipples before his tongue swirls over them, triggering a cry of pleasure from you.

“FUCK, Ben, I really missed you, too…need you, baby.”

He moves his hands down to undo your jeans, slipping his long fingers inside. You’ve already unbuttoned his jeans and you pull down the zipper before sitting up to tug them - and his boxer briefs - down. His cock springs free, already hard and weeping, and you grip it gently before giving it a few strokes.

Ben groans loudly as he looks down, wanting to see your fingers working his cock. He pulls off your jeans and panties and meets your gaze again as you open your legs wide.

“This okay?”

You nod frantically. “It’s fucking perfect.”

He smiles and reaches between your legs to drag two long fingers over your folds. The look on his face is one of surprise and arousal.

“Fuck, you’re so wet, Lyd. So wet for me already.” He looks down to watch his fingers working through your slick, occasionally dipping his fingertips into your cunt and making you cry out with need and desire. “What do you want, baby?”

He keeps fucking you with his fingers as he looks into your eyes. It seems that’s what triggers your first orgasm: his big eyes gazing at you, so warm and so kind, while his thick fingers are pushing in and out of your pussy, making lewd, wet noises.

“Oh, fuck!” You come on his fingers, a wicked little smile on his face. “You, Ben, I want you. Want you to fuck me hard. Need you.”

He pulls his fingers out of you and sucks them clean, closing his eyes as he feels your taste on his lips and tongue. The sight makes your pussy throb, but you need more.

“You ready for me, Lyddie?”

You nod and spread your legs as he quickly lines himself up, pushing inside you in a single, fluid motion that seems to knock the air clean out of your lungs. You reach up and take his head in your hands, pulling him down for a kiss as he starts to move. He drags his cock in and out, slowly, deliberately; dark eyes watching you writhe and mewl under his broad body.

“Please, Ben -”

He begins to fuck you harder, deeper, rarely taking his eyes off you. Despite the urgency it’s imbued with a tenderness and a desperate need that matches your own. Your body responds intuitively as you hitch up your knees and shift your hips slightly to meet his firm thrusts and take him even more deeply.

You fuck each other as though you’re trying to fuse yourselves irrevocably together, using your bodies to take the first step towards overcoming the rift and separation. The sensation of soft, warm skin, of fingertips trailing over a breast, a bicep, a thigh, begins to say the words you still don’t quite know how to articulate.

Your hips are moving quicker now, fucking him as much as he is fucking you, and Ben leans back a little to look down at where your bodies are joined. He looks up at you from under his lashes, half-smiling as he admires the way your body moves in perfect sync with his. You reach for his strong forearms, fingers gripping his firm, lightly golden flesh to give you greater purchase as your hips roll upwards, trying to sate your longing and your frustration. Ben lets out a deep, guttural cry.

“Fucking hell, Lyd!”

“Want to fuck you, baby,” you murmur, not letting up the rhythm. “Please. Want to get on top.”

He rolls carefully onto his back, holding you in position around your hips as you shift your knees and brace your core. The change in position has his cock hitting you at a different angle, grazing against that perfect, spongy spot just inside your cunt, and you take a moment to savour the feeling before beginning to ride him.

You move with intention, purpose, determination, trying to let your body speak for you before you use your words, later. The sight of his beautiful face, eyes screwed up in pleasure and mouth slightly open, sends a pulse thrumming through you and almost gets you off again. You want more. You want to give him more. You want to give him everything.

Your hands reach down your body, seeking his broad palms and thick, gentle fingers; you place one hand over your left breast and encourage him to use the other to start massaging the slick-soaked pearl of your clit.

You cry out his name as you come, rhythm faltering a little. Ben encourages you to lift yourself off his cock for a moment, pushing himself up to a sitting position against your headboard before you straddle him again, taking his hard length deep into your warm, wet cunt and making him groan loudly.

The two of you, again. You and him, him and you, clinging to each other in mutual desire and reassurance. Bodies pressed together, the heavy weight of your tits pushed against the broadness of his chest, the warm softness of his tummy grazing against yours. You kiss, his tongue swiping at your lips and exploring your mouth: two as one.

He breaks away as he fucks up into you, arms still wrapped around you. You close your eyes, keening with pleasure.

“Open your eyes, Lydia.”

You blink, meeting his coffee-brown gaze. He smiles and caresses your face, slowing down the pace as he does so. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Just slowing down a little or I won’t last, baby.”

You pepper his neck and shoulders with tiny kisses, seeking out the little freckles and marks you love. Each press of your lips to his skin is a silent apology, an unspoken explanation, an attempt to convey through touch what you feel for him, how much he means to you.

I am so sorry. I missed you so very much. I need you. I care about you. I hate that I hurt you. Please forgive me.

And I love you.

“I’m close, baby. Gonna lie you back down, is that okay?”

You nod, kissing Ben as he eases you onto the bed. He pulls out for a moment as you change positions, and you whine a little at the loss of his cock inside you.

“Hey, it’s okay, baby,” he murmurs, planting a soft kiss to your breast as he slides back inside you, “I wasn’t going anywhere.”

You twine your hands around his neck and reach to run your fingers through his dark curls, listening to the obscene sound of your wetness against him as he fucks you. You hitch up your legs and slip down a hand to grip his ass as he drives in and out of you.

“Fuck-fucking hell, baby - jesus, that feels so good. You feel so fucking perfect, so fucking wet. Taking me like this -”

He stutters as he buries his face in your neck, thrusting harder and faster as he gets closer. You wrap your arms around his broad back, finding arousal and reassurance in the warm softness of his body.

“I love having you inside me, y’know,” you whisper in his ear. “I love taking you, all of you, feeling the stretch in my cunt when you fuck me.”

Your dirty talk has the desired effect and you watch as his body stiffens and expression changes. He groans as he comes hard, continuing to fuck into you as you feel him fill you, hot and deep.

He doesn’t pull out immediately, pausing while he’s still on top of you to plant a lingering kiss to your lips. He takes in your fucked-out expression. His own is similarly wrecked, eyes hooded and pussydrunk, perspiration glistening on his face and body.

“Fuck, baby, that was…”

“Fucking incredible.”

You trace your hand over his jaw, gently feeling the scratchy hair underneath as you move your fingers to his lips.

“I missed you so fucking much, Ben. I’m so sorry.”

He takes your hand in his and kisses your fingertips, then pulls out and lies back beside you on the bed, still holding your hand.

“I missed you so, so much, Lyddie.” He looks up at the ceiling, suddenly puzzled. “How did we end up at this end of the bed?”

You giggle. “I didn’t keep track of the logistics but we covered a lot of ground tonight.” You kiss the firm skin of his shoulder and sit up. “I’m going to freshen up. Be back in a minute.”

When you return, Ben is under the comforter, lying back on the pillows at the head of the bed. You stop for a moment to take in the image. You had forgotten this was the first time he’d ever been over to your place, and he looks right at home.

He smiles warmly as you climb back into bed, shivering a little as you discard your robe. He wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you close to his side, tucking the comforter around you to keep you warm. You nuzzle into his chest, humming contentedly to yourself.

“Lyd?” His voice is quiet and soft and it makes your heart sing to hear it like this, in bed, naked and sated and cuddled together.

“Mmmhmm?”

“You - you framed my card.”

You had framed his birthday card, and it had sat on your nightstand since November. And you forgot he would see it.

Shit.

You look up at him, a little panicked. The look on his face immediately reassures you, and you reach up to trace a finger along the grey patches on his jaw.

“I just really loved it, the card, the message. And it…it meant so much.”

He blushes a little. “That’s really…it’s great.”

He holds you a little closer.

“Ben?”

“Mmmm?”

“I’m going to explain.”

He brings his other arm around you and plants a kiss to the crown of your head. “Okay, Lyd. I’m here.”

You take a deep breath and lightly rest your hand on his chest, trying to ground yourself with the rhythm of his heartbeat and the feeling of his warm skin.

“I left the way I did because I was scared.” You tilt your head up to look at him. “Not scared of you, I’d never be scared of you. Scared of - well, scared of a lot of things. And I’m not even sure if I can explain them all properly, but I’ll do my best.”

You nuzzle a little more into the warmth of his side, cheek pressed lightly to his chest.

“I had such a wonderful time with you that night. It was amazing. You know that, right?”

Ben looks down at you. “I do.”

“But then I woke early, and it was like the little bully that lives in my brain decided it was going to do its worst. I panicked, Ben. All I could think was that you would realise it was a mistake, eventually, and see how I was old and unattractive and broken, and…” You pause for a moment, trying not to let the tears fall. “And that I didn’t deserve someone like you.”

“Oh, Lyddie. No, Lyd.” Ben squeezes you gently, planting another kiss to the crown of your head.

“I tried to talk myself down, I really did. But it’s one thing doing that in the light of day, it’s another altogether at five in the morning. So it was like the defences just went back up.”

“Defences?”

“Like… I dunno. Defences against feelings, or wanting someone properly? Shit. I’m not explaining this very well.”

He shakes his head. “You’re doing perfectly fine. If you want to stop, just say.”

Another deep breath. “It’s not the only reason. But…the way everything fell apart with my last relationship, it - it made me harden myself because…I don’t know, I convinced myself if I kept up defences around my heart and soul I wouldn’t get hurt again? Something like that. It was fine to have hookups or one night stands, but anything more serious - couldn’t happen.”

“So you pulled up the drawbridge.”

You nod. “And it wasn’t just about protecting me from getting hurt again, it was about protecting others from me fucking everything up, like I always do. Ruining things, like I always have. And then there’s the visiting thing.”

“You don’t fuck everything up, Lyd, you don’t ruin things, and it’s so sad that you think you do, because - well, have you ever considered how much you make things better?” You look up at him, eyes disbelieving but filled with emotion at his words.

“And what do you mean, visiting thing?”

“Me being a visiting professor, me having to go home to my permanent job… the way I was feeling that morning, all I could think was how this would have to end, and how - how I couldn’t handle the thoughts of not having this, because of the way I felt - the way I feel - about you.”

You trace patterns on his chest with your fingertips, trying to quell the anxiety that threatens to overwhelm you.

“I didn’t come here looking for anyone. I was happy with my life the way it was - I wasn’t wandering around lost and lonely, desperate for a partner. My life was great, really. And then I met you, and I realised what I felt for you. I was starting to open myself up again, and I’d never, ever thought I’d do that. I never thought I’d have those feelings again, let alone…fall for someone. And certainly not someone as wonderful as you.”

“Lyd, you…”

You shake your head, wanting to get the words out while they’re flowing freely. “Over the holidays I realised that’s what was really scaring me. That’s what was at the root of it all, all the fear and panic - the way I feel about you, the way I care so much about you. It was so big, you know? The realisation of what I felt, of how much I cared, the knowledge that you had feelings for me, too. Sleeping with you, knowing how good that was, feeling like I wanted to stay with you like that forever.”

You pause for a moment. “And then my stupid, stupid brain kicks in, because it’s wired to run from things that feel like they’re going to overwhelm me.”

He gives you another cuddle. “That is not a stupid brain and you know it.”

“It feels like it is. It’s ironic, I thought I had to run so I didn’t ruin things. But turns out I might have ruined them anyway.” You pull away a little, still keeping a hand on his chest but propping yourself up so you can see his face properly. “I hate that I hurt you. I hurt you. And I feel so terrible that my own issues - my past - made me feel like I needed to do something stupid and in the process to hurt the man I…care so much for.”

You shake your head ruefully. “I don’t want to be scared any more. I don’t need to be scared. And I don’t need the past to affect my life now, I won’t let it. I just hope that, regardless of what you want to happen with us, that you can -”

You’ve been really good with the tears so far. You’ve managed to keep them at bay. But they’re prickling, gathering in your eyes and clouding your vision of Ben’s kind face and broad shoulders, and they won’t stay put much longer. You tilt your head upwards, trying to stave them off.

“Forgive me.”

Ben reaches up to wipe away the fat tear that’s rolling down your cheek, his thumb stroking softly across your face. He sits up in bed and wraps his arms around you.

He doesn’t say it to you, but he was ready to forgive you as soon as he looked into your eyes at Jen’s house.

“Of course, Lyddie. Doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt - still hurts a little - though, and that’s important too.”

You pull back slightly and take his left hand in yours, tracing your thumb over his tattoo.

“I know, Ben, and I’m so, so sorry.”

He takes a deep breath. “Thing is, you’re not the only one who was scared. Is scared. Love is scary, y’know?” He meets your gaze, his eyes and expression perhaps more vulnerable than you’ve ever seen them. “Especially when it’s new love. It’s exciting but it’s terrifying because… well, because it’s fragile, and it can be lost. And that feels even more of a risk when you - when you have lost love.”

“I mean it, I don’t want my past -”

He shakes his head. “I don’t mean your past, I mean mine. You’re not the only one who’s scared, and you’re not the only one who was fucked over.”

Oh, shit.

You nuzzle against his shoulder. “You can tell me, if you want.”

He rests his head against yours. “Shit. It’s…it’s a long time ago. But it fucks you up, doesn’t it?” You nod silently. “I met the person I thought I’d be with for the rest of my life during my doctoral programme. Six years, all fine, and then one day - that was it, out of the blue. The usual explanations: unhappy for a long time, we grew apart, all that kind of thing.”

“Sounds familiar,” you say wearily. You heard it all the day your ex left. It was like a script had been pre-circulated.

“You can guess what’s coming next, then.”

“Someone else?”

“There was someone else. Like I said, it’s a long time ago, Lyd. A lot longer than yours. It’s all in the distant past now, and therapy helped a lot early on.” He sighs. “But I guess I did something similar to you. Put up the defences, wasn’t looking for anyone, kept everything very casual, on the rare occasions it happened.”

You bring an arm around his torso, holding him close.

“And I was happy. I was really happy: I had wonderful friends, eventually I got a job I love, I have my family, my siblings, their kids. I was fine.” He pauses, jaw ticking. “I was fine, and then - then you came along.”

You pull back. His tone is confusing.

Ben turns to look at you, takes in your worried expression, and kisses the top of your head. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean ‘you came along and ruined things’, please don’t worry.” You visibly relax and squeeze his hand.

“What I mean is - you came along, and you changed things. You changed everything. You think you ruin things, Lyd, and that just couldn’t be further from the truth. I… fuck. You changed my life, changed the way I thought about the future, about what I wanted, about opening up again.”

Tears threaten at your eyes again. “So when you woke up and I wasn’t there…”

He looks up, and his eyes are red-rimmed. “I thought it was happening again. And it just felt like I shouldn’t have opened up and let you in.”

You swallow, trying to stop yourself from crying. “Fuck, Ben. I’m so fucking sorry, I’m just such a fucking broken mess.”

“Lyd, for fuck’s sake.” His tone is firmer, more stern. You look at him, a little surprised. “You’re not a broken mess. You - fuck it, you just weren’t loved the way you should have been. The way you deserve to be.”

“Jesus, Ben, I -” You pause, and he looks at you expectantly. “Well, that makes two of us. You weren’t loved like you deserve to be either, based on what you’ve said.”

He smiles softly, looking at you from under his lashes. “We’re quite a pair.”

You caress his face, reaching up to gently bring your fingers through his hair, and place a tiny, soft kiss to the beautiful curve of his nose.

“I think we are quite a pair, actually.”

You blink awake in the wee small hours, eyes adjusting in the darkness as you take in the handsome sight of Ben’s sleeping face. The last time you woke up with him, you panicked and fled. This time, you smile softly, noticing that his hand is resting lightly on your hip, and lean in to gently kiss his warm, broad chest.

His hand shifts and he smiles, eyes still closed, as he traces the curve of your body over your hip, your waist, and onto the heavy fullness of your breasts. He seeks out your nipples with his fingertips and you sigh with pleasure, reaching down to take his cock, already stiffening, in your hand. He kisses you, moaning as you stroke him a few times, and then carefully rolls you onto your back, positions himself on top of you, and uses his knee to open your legs a little wider for him.

“’M still wet, baby,” you murmur, voice thick with sleep. “Fuck me.”

He lines himself up to take you: slowly, gently, still drowsy. You feel every inch of him as he fucks you to a slow, steady rhythm. Between the drag of his cock working in and out, and the silence punctured only by the sounds of you and Ben panting, your bodies moving against each other, you’re close to the edge before long.

He gets you there with a well-timed thumb to your clit, gently circling it until you fall apart again and he lets go inside you, kissing your neck and mouth as he pulls out before helping you clean up, moving in for some cuddles, and falling asleep again with you in his arms.

It’s definitely not the kind of sex that cheesy novels are made of, but it makes you happy because of that. It’s soft, intimate, settled - domestic, even, like you’ve been together a long time. You still need to talk about what you both actually want, of course, but - if this is anything to go by - it feels like you might well be on the same page.

He’s not there when you reach for him in the morning. You sit bolt upright, suddenly paranoid that Ben might have done to you what you did to him.

But then your eyes adjust to the morning light filtering through the blinds, and you can hear clattering and humming coming from the direction of the kitchen. You reach for a pair of pyjama pants and an old sweatshirt, and pad from the bedroom into the living and dining room and through the door into the tiny kitchen.

Ben is standing at the main counter, his back to you, measuring out coffee for your filter machine while humming random melodies to himself. He’s wearing the big, old Paris Review hoodie you’d loaned him when he came home with you the evening before, as well as his boxers and a strangely familiar-looking pair of brightly-coloured socks, covered with a pattern of books and pens and -

Oh, fuck. Those socks. Your Christmas present to him. He’d worn them to Jen’s party.

You take a few short steps across the kitchen floor and wrap your arms around him, pressing your cheek to his shoulder blade and inhaling deeply.

“Hi, Lyddie.”

He turns and shifts his body so he can see you properly. He’s got his glasses on, his hair is tousled, curls sticking up in every direction, and he’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen in your life.

“You look a lot better in that hoodie than I do.”

He looks down at the magazine logo on the sweatshirt. “Were you a subscriber?”

“It was a gift from a friend years and years ago. We had a running joke about the idea of a magazine reviewing Paris, she saw it and ordered it for me. It’s cosy, isn’t it?”

He beams and puts an arm around you, gently pulling you to his side as the coffee machine splutters into life. “Very cosy, baby.”

“It’s nice, here.” Ben looks around the apartment as he sips the coffee, sitting beside you at the small dining table. “It’s very…”

“Basic?”

He arches an eyebrow over the rim of his mug. “I was going to say it’s very you. You’ve made it your own, even if it is basic.”

You reach for his hand and squeeze it, marvelling at the butterflies you feel at the simple sensation of the touch of his hand, even after having slept with him twice.

“Ben?”

He looks at you, eyes soft and warm.

“I want this. Whatever this is, right now, I want it. I want to try it, anyway. I want you. I want you and me, I want there to be an ‘us’. I meant what I said last night, I’m not scared. Well, I am, because I still don’t know what happens when I have to leave and what if that ruins everything and then -”

He squeezes your hand in return. “Lyddie, you’re spiralling.”

You laugh and take a deep breath. “I guess what I’m asking is - if I wasn’t a broken weirdo who ran out on you, what would you want? What do you want?”

“Lyd, please. You’re not a weirdo, and you’re not fucking broken. You’re strong, and smart, and funny, and beautiful, and - fuck, you’re a fucking goddess, Lyd, and I’ll tell you that every goddamn day.” He looks at you, expression deadly serious before softening into a smile. “Surely you know I want this, too? You, me, an ‘us’? How could I not?”

You put your hands to his face and pull him in for a kiss. No more fear, even if this was scary, in its own way.

And you remember something he said last night.

“Ben, can I ask you about something you said last night?”

He smiles beatifically and nods.

“When I was explaining about being scared, you said something like ‘love is scary’. I… I’m just wondering about your word choice.” Your mouth feels dry and you take another sip of coffee. “Was ‘love’ generic, or…specific?”

Ben’s eyes widen for a moment, a tiny flash of panic passing through.

“It was specific.”

You nod. “So…”

He rubs his hands together, one of his nervous ‘tells’. “So, I said ‘love is scary’ because - I love you.” The look in his eyes is cautious but warm, hopeful.

“I love you, Lydia. I love you very much. I hope that’s okay.”

You gently place your hand on top of his, quelling his anxious gesture.

“I love you too, Ben. Very much. So, yeah, that’s okay.”

The two of you burst out laughing for a moment before leaning in for a soft kiss. It felt so normal, so comfortable: both of you still with your bed-heads, dressed in random loungewear, sitting at your dining table in your little apartment, saying you loved each other for the first time.

Ben twines his fingers through yours, smiling. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to be able to say those words to you, Lyd.” He blushes a little. “Came close to saying it a few times before.”

You arch an eyebrow exaggeratedly and grin at him. “Oh, really? Well, that makes two of us.”

You lean over to rest your head on his shoulder. “And you know we said last night that neither of us had been loved the way we deserved?” He hums and nods in agreement, planting a kiss to the top of your head.

“Maybe we can try loving each other like that?”

“I’d like that very much, Lyd.” Another kiss, another squeeze of your hand - and, out of nowhere, his tummy rumbles audibly, triggering another fit of giggles.

“Think you and me deserve to have a nice breakfast, too.” He pushes himself back from the table and stands up, still holding your hand. He holds you closely. “And then…”

“And then - we come home and make up for lost time.”

(bookshelf divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more; other dividers by @cafekitsune)

Further A/N: Like many of us, I'm sure, I have spent much of the last week listening back to the work of the extraordinary, late, great Sinéad O'Connor. This song, from her 2014 album I'm Not Bossy, I'm The Boss, leapt out as a perfect fit for Lydia - in general, but especially in this chapter. Rest in power, Sinéad. (And if you haven't yet read her memoir, Rememberings, do it - it's brilliant.)

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#visiting fic #visiting masterlist #mr ben snl #mr ben au #mr ben x ofc #mr ben fanfic #professor ben x ofc #professor!ben #professor!ben x ofc #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal #pedrostories #Youtube

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bakuliwrites · 1 year

Text

Devotion- Cicero x Listener

Rating: 18+ (MINORS DNI)

Fandom: The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim

Relationship: Cicero x Listener

TW: mention of some blood (nothing too violent though), smut, fluff

Summary: He worships her, every piece of her. All of his Listener must be worshipped, as ordained. Cicero, sweet Cicero, eager to please. Eager to serve. His lips on hers, his hands roving, searching, exploring. Venerating. He dies inside her, and it is glorious. He would die a thousand times in her, as many times as she wanted. Immolating in her light over and over and over again. Cicero is unsure of this new Listener, but his feelings are muddled and confusing. What will happen when the Listener is forced to choose to take or spare his life?

A/N: I have been trapped in an airport the past two days and am shamelessly writing smut in the terminal. I don't care, I'm so bored and thirsty for this mad jester. I had to do what I had to do, and if writing smut in the middle of the goddamn airport is what I want, then it's what's happening. As I write this, my flight has been delayed yet again. I'm losing my mind. As always, thank you for reading! Any likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated. I've loved Cicero for a long time. I know he's not everyone's cup of tea, but I've been desperately wanting to write for him. He's a favorite Elder Scrolls character of mine for sure. Thank you again! Hope you are all having a great end to the year! Lots of love <3

Read here in this post or over on my AO3.

Silence. Deafening, deafening silence. For so many eons it feels as if all Cicero has heard is laughter and silence. Echoing endlessly in his mind, filling it to the brim, pounding against his skull. He wonders, sometimes, as he lays awake at night if the silence and the laughter will be enough to rupture his skull. If they’ll pour out into the world and drown everyone with the jester’s final words to him. And then here she is, listening. Always listening. Hearing the very words he has longed to hear for over a decade now.

And she’s so ignorant with it all. A rube. A newcomer into this underground society, stepping into his territory, granted with a blessing that should rightfully be poor, loyal Cicero’s. Cicero, who lives in abject silence, forced to watch as a stranger is gifted with the boon of Her voice. Mother always knows what’s best. He wouldn’t dare question Her, and he wouldn’t dare question Her authority on gracing a new Listener with the Gift. He’ll be loyal. Oh so loyal, as Cicero always is. But it does not stop him from hating her. Oh, he’ll serve her, faithful and devoted as he is. If this is what the Night Mother wants, he won’t question. He will only do as he is told. But he doesn’t have to like it.

These months, he’s watched the new Listener with scrutiny. Watched as she’s gained the favor of the other members in Falkreath, as she’s wormed her way into the good graces of that harlot, Astrid. He doesn’t trust anyone here. There’s no reason to, not when they question the ultimate authority of Mother. Especially that Astrid. But the Listener…

Well, Cicero isn’t so sure yet. Her kindness made itself apparent when she helped him on the road just outside Whiterun. He recognized her face immediately when he arrived at the sanctuary. She still had that look of bewilderment and awe that fledgling assassins always have. That he once had in his early days in Cheydinhal. Over the months, he watched the Listener’s dazzlement fade and be replaced with the acceptance of life, such as it is. Yet, there was a certain brightness in her that never seemed to fade. A gentility and strength. She’s been genial with Cicero, but he can glean little else from her. Is she a traitor or an ally? Someone he can trust to upkeep the authority of the Night Mother? Or someone who seeks to tear down everything he holds dear?

The Listener speaks little to Cicero. She speaks little to anyone, really, opting to keep to herself on her downtime. She usually works alone, her skills honed enough to take on even the most difficult of contracts. It’s admirable, really, watching her work. He’s had the pleasure of witnessing her train with the others. From the corner of the room, his dark eyes fall on her, observing every swift motion, every swipe of her blade. And every once in a while, she catches his eye and a spark of something curious lights the facets of her irises. Heat blooms across dear Cicero’s cheeks. How confusing. How strange. Best not to think about it, he reasons, returning to his duties.

“Do you ever have time to train, Cicero?” she asks him one day, innocent curiosity softening her features.

“Oh ho ho!” he returns, confusion muddling his already muddled mind, but he wouldn’t dare let her see that, “Cicero has no time to train. Not when the Night Mother needs tending! Cicero has no need. He takes no contracts. Keeps to himself. Does what he needs to for our Sweet Mother.”

Silence. Such deafening silence. But she smiles softly.

“Well, if you ever want to train, I’m always looking for new partners,” the Listener concludes before gliding off through the snaking corridors of the sanctuary. Cicero is left to stew in annoyance and confusion. Doesn’t she understand his role as Keeper? Doesn’t she understand that he doesn’t train anymore? Why does she ask him such things?

This isn’t the last time she asks this question, and ones like it. Cicero is busy, he returns, but should the Listener require other services, he’s a drop of a hat away.

***

She brings him gifts sometimes. Sweet rolls and honey nut treats, little flowers she stops to pick on her journeys across the continent.

“I thought the Night Mother might like these,” the Listener offers, handing him a small bouquet of nightshade, their purple petals flowering out from their dark centers.

“Oh, yes!” Cicero greets, finding himself delighted by the offer despite his distrust of this woman, “Mother will most certainly love these! Thank you, thank you!”

He places the flowers at Mother’s feet and watches as the Listener passes him a tender beam, before disappearing once again into the shadows. Cicero is even more suspicious. Is this her clumsy attempt to gain his favor? To lull him into a false security? This isn’t the first time he’s dealt with traitors and usurpers, false prophets and charlatans. But the Listeners words were the sacred words:

Darkness rises when silence dies.

And she’d said it with such conviction. Surely, the Night Mother wouldn’t lead him astray.

“No, no. Musn’t question Mother. She knows all,” he mumbles to himself as he sweeps up the area in front of Mother’s coffin. He sweeps furiously, fragments of the booming laughter in his head falling to the floor, shattering into pieces and littering the ground with the final moments of the jester. He sweeps them away, but he just ends up breathing them in again, endless dust, endless laughter, endless silence.

He wonders when the Night Mother will speak to Her Listener again. Wonders if he stood beside the Listener, pressed his ear to her, if he could hear the echo of Mother’s voice in her. If the Listener bleeds, will she bleed the Voice? In her final moments, would her death rattle exhale Mother’s words? Would he finally hear? He wonders if he pressed himself to her, tight and close, if her whole body would act as a shell at the beach, echoing Mother’s voice like the powerful waves of a dark sea.

***

“Dear Cicero?” her gentle voice sounds from the doorway, halting his endless humming. He whips around to look at his Listener and freezes. Cicero hates when she prances about in her nightclothes. They’re billowy and thin. Revealing, in a modest sort of way. He can see the silhouette of her curves, outlined underneath her nightgown by the dull light of the sanctuary. The pinpoints of her nipples peek through the fine cloth, and her bosom rises and falls gently with each breath. Silence abates in him for a beat. The laughter ceases for a moment. It’s been a long time since he’s felt- since he’s felt whatever this is. And then she calls him, “Dear Cicero,” and it drives him mad. Mad, mad, mad.

“Yes, my Listener?” he returns, ever loyal. Always ready to serve.

“May I join you? I can’t sleep and- I’d like some company,” she goes on sheepishly, eyes bright and searching. Cicero obliges. Loyal Cicero would never deny such an innocent request, but he wonders why she doesn’t ask Nazir, or Gabriela, or Festus. Why him? He’s wary, but he won’t fight it.

So she huddles up in a chair beside him while he works, while he tends to Mother and talks aloud to himself. The Listener says nothing. She sits in silence and watches curiously as the Keeper goes about his duties. Occasionally, she chuckles at a limerick or song Cicero lets slip from his ever chattering mouth. Her laugh is musical. Her laugh is grating. He hates it. He loves it. Cicero doesn’t know what he thinks.

Eventually, Cicero looks over and she’s fallen fast asleep, head resting against the chair back, knees huddled to her chest. She looks so terribly uncomfortable and yet, so utterly peaceful. Silence abates, laughter ceases. As if he can’t help himself, Cicero brushes back a strand of her hair, gloved fingers lingering for a moment on her cheeks. There is something lovely about this Listener, in all her silence and shroud of mystery. In her small kindnesses and attempts to befriend him. Perhaps Cicero is too cold. Perhaps he’s not cold enough.

“Poor, tired Listener shouldn’t sleep in such discomfort,” he mutters, carefully lifting her from her chair. She stirs, but does not wake, sighing softly and snuggling up in his arms. Heat blooms along Cicero’s cheeks as he carries her towards her chambers. Gently, the Keeper tucks the Listener into her bed and leaves behind only a single nightshade on her bed stand. For a moment, Cicero knows peace. Momentary peace, a mind clear for once, before confusion takes over again. Maybe he hates her. Maybe he's infatuated. It all feels the same. That same deep cutting emotion. Friend or foe? Enemy or ally? Cicero has learned not to trust, but Mother wouldn’t lead him astray. No, Mother would never lead him astray. Right?

***

Sometimes, at night, when Cicero dares to sleep, he dreams of her. Of the Listener, beckoning him into her bed. Temptress, siren. His lustful dreams fill his core with a heat he’s not felt in years. Her naked form greets him, pulling him closer. She takes him in the sanctity of her bedroom, in his, in every room of the sanctuary. He worships her, every piece of her. All of his Listener must be worshipped, as ordained. Cicero, sweet Cicero, eager to please. Eager to serve. His lips on hers, his hands roving, searching, exploring. Venerating. He dies inside her, and it is glorious. He would die a thousand times in her, as many times as she wanted. Immolating in her light over and over and over again.

He wakes in a confused sweat, regretting falling asleep, and continues his duties. He tries desperately to push these lustful fantasies from his mind. But it’s so terribly difficult when she brushes past him, when she gifts him flowers and sweets. When she smiles at him and asks how his day has been. When she speaks to him like he’s a person, and not just the ghost of a jester long dead.

***

Wrack and ruin. That devil Astrid is up to no good. Cicero knew never to trust her, he rages as he stumbles through the snow. Charlatan, pretender, imposter. And that damned sheepdog chasing after him, wounding him. Well, Cicero gives as good as he gets. Better, even. That stinking wolfman can’t chase after him now, not after the slash dear Cicero’s given him.

Dawnstar is a wreck, but it’s better than nothing. Cicero clutches his injured abdomen, crimson seeping between his fingers as he staggers down the stairs and retreats into the inner rooms. He’s always known he wouldn’t get any sympathy, any understanding from any of Astrid’s underlings. But the Listener… Now they’re an entirely different matter. Will she believe that liar Astrid? Side with that devil? Or will she find sanity in madness? In Cicero’s conviction? In their beloved Night Mother?

Protected by an army of ghostly assassins, a feral troll, and layers of branching corridors and locked doorways, Cicero awaits his fate. For hours, it feels, he shivers in the depths of the abandoned Dawnstar sanctuary, pressing his hand to his wound, trying desperately to stop the bleeding. He needs some amount of strength if the Listener chooses to end him. He’s not going without a fight.

And then, after what feels like eternities of silence and of laughter, he hears the door to the sanctuary open, a distant creak . And he laughs. He laughs, and laughs, and laughs.

“Listener! Is that you? Oh, I knew you'd come. Send the best to defeat the best. Astrid knew her stupid wolf couldn't slay sly Cicero,” he calls out, waiting eagerly for a response. But he’s met with what he’s always met with: silence. No matter, he thinks to himself. He doesn’t need them to respond to make this entertaining. No, if he’s going to go out, he’s going out with a bang and a laugh.

He can hear them moving through the corridors, swiftly putting down the specters that haunt and protect this sanctuary. Cicero knows it’s the Listener. He can feel it in his bones. And their silence does little to assuage his fears. His death is coming. It’s imminent.

“Oh, but this isn't at all what Mother would want. You kill the Keeper or I kill the Listener? Now that's madness,” he trails off. He doesn’t want to have to plead, but he will. Though he can’t hear Mother’s voice, he knows this isn’t what She would want. All Mother wants is to keep Her family together. Not see it destroyed. Not again. No, Cicero doesn’t want to be left alone again.

“All right, so Cicero attacked that harlot, Astrid! But what's a fool to do, when his mother is slandered and mocked? Surely the Listener understands!” he begs. She’s moving so fast. He’s hardly gotten a chance to steel himself for the battle to come. Surely the Listener wouldn’t kill poor Cicero. She gives him gifts, asks for his company. Smiles at him, talks to him. Like he’s just as much a person as she is. As anyone else is. Not like some madman. Surely this kind Listener wouldn’t end his life so cruelly? Surely the two of them wouldn’t rip this family apart? Because he’ll be as much a part of this tragedy as she is.

The doors creak open and there she is. Relief and fear flood the Keeper’s heart. The Listener appears in the doorway, a shadow opposite the flickering light of the fire in the hearth behind him. Cicero smirks.

"And now we come to the end of our play. The grand finale."

Damn her, she still won’t talk. Her brows are furrowed, eyes lit with anger and mouth set in a deep frown. He’s never seen her look so upset. This is it, Cicero thinks. The end of the Keeper. The end of the Listener. He’s disappointed his Mother so deeply. How will She ever forgive him?

"You caught me! I surrender! Ha ha ha ha,” he chuckles before dissolving into a coughing fit.

“There’s only one cure for your madness, Cicero,” she finally, finally, speaks, but it stings him, “ Me. ”

And then something wild sparks in him. Something fiery and warm. A devilish grin pulls at the corners of Cicero’s lips. His eyes meet the enigmatic gaze of his Listener.

"Oh, I like that!” Cicero purrs, before loudly adding, “Very good, very good! Creative! But killing me would be a mistake! Oh yes. You would displease our Mother, hmm? For she's your Mother too, isn't she... Listener? Walk away! Let poor Cicero live! Tell the pretender Astrid you did the job! Stabbed, strangled, drowned poor Cicero! One little itty bitty lie!"

“You want me to lie to my superiors?” the Listener returns, something unreadable crossing her face as she strides purposefully towards the crumpled up Keeper. He gulps, unsure of her tone.

“You, my dear Listener, are Astrid’s superior,” he reasons, trying to maintain the grin on his face, though finding it difficult in this moment of uncertainty. The Listener steps ever closer. Cicero grips the knife at his side. This is it. It’s the end for one of them. He’s failed his Mother so spectacularly.

And then, something strange happens. As she approaches, the Listener kneels down, features softening, brows relaxing and eyes filling with sorrow.

“You’re hurt, dear Cicero,” she breathes, looking at the crimson blooming through his clothes. She gently removes his hand from his wound, inspects the injury, and tugs off her gloves. She hovers her hand over the slash in his abdomen, Cicero watching with growing curiosity and confusion. A spell, radiant and warm, emanates from her palm.

“I know that you are wary of me,” she begins, her voice quiet, “But like you, I hear a voice long dead. Long passed on. I know about the jester, Cicero. I know about your life before.”

“You- know about the jester?” he offers, wincing as his flesh repairs itself, stitches itself back together with the help of her restorative powers.

“We are both Listeners, in our own ways. Heeding the calls, the orders, the perplexing whims of the past,” she continues, gazing into his eyes, some strange understanding glittering in her irises, “We do not always choose who we hear. But we do not have to be alone in our suffering. Or our boons. Whatever forms those take.”

“I am loyal to the Night Mother, Cicero,” she assures, pulling her hand away, satisfied with the closure of his injury. Good as new, Cicero thinks, poking at the newly healed flesh, flabbergasted by this odd Listener.

“And I am loyal to you,” she goes on, “And should you need more proof, I would be glad to give it. Ask me to cut my hand, to bleed as a pact. Ask of me anything to prove to you that I can be trusted, and I will do it. You have shown me nothing but loyalty and kindness, dear Cicero. Your devotion is admirable. I know you have struggled to believe I am an ally. I have tried to show you, in my own clumsy way. But I assure you, I am with you. I am at your side, now until the end of us.”

Silence. And then laughter. Endless laughter. Oh, how silly he’s been! How utterly silly, foolish Cicero has been! The halls of the Dawnstar sanctuary echo with Cicero’s maniacal laughter. What utter foolishness, imbecilic and doltish. This Listener, in all her kindness, would never betray him. Would never betray the Night Mother. She’s offering up sacrifices to prove it, and here Cicero has been, doubting her. And more confusingly, dreaming of her. Visions of adoring her, of knowing her and her knowing him, fill Cicero’s mind.

“Your imprudent Cicero has been so utterly foolish, dear Listener,” he chuckles ruefully, “You’ve proven your devotion to our Mother well enough. Cicero is the one who needs to prove his devotion.”

Her fingers sweep a limp strand of Cicero’s copper hair out of his face, and he takes the opportunity to gently grasp her hand in his. He holds it by his cheek, a silent “thank-you” for sparing his life. Her pulse is quick, fluttering. Her cheeks are flushed and rosy. When he lets go of her, she does not withdraw, instead tenderly caressing the angle of his cheek with the soft pad of her thumb.

“Your devotion is unmatched, dear Cicero,” she whispers. A breathless tension hovers weighty in the air. A tension that has existed from the moment he set eyes on her. And she, him. Cicero’s outfit is hot, so hot, suddenly, when moments ago he was shivering from blood loss and the chill of winter. No, his devotion hasn’t been showcased nearly enough. Cicero’s Listener must know how utterly, completely, entirely devoted he is.

And so show her, he shall. His lips press against hers, hungry, yearning, desperate. And she is equally as needy. Her fingers tangle in his hair, grip the short ones at the nape of his neck, knock off the cap that rests atop his head.

“My dear Listener, my devotion to you is body and soul,” he proclaims, ripping off the bodice of her armor as she makes quick work of his trousers and shirt. She gasps into him, filling Cicero’s lungs with her warmth. He breathes her in like smoke, letting her ignite him. Destroy and rebuild him. Silence abates. Laughter ceases. The Listener is his sole focus. His loyalty is unsurpassable.

Her skin is warm. So warm. So much warmer than he expected. Warmer than the cold flesh he’s been tending to this last decade or so. It’s been so long since he’s felt anyone’s touch, anyone’s warmth. So long since he could give any part of himself to another, other than as the role of Keeper, and Keeper alone. So long since he’s received. And her touch is so gentle. This savage assassin, brutal and cold, yet so tender and sweet with poor, dear Cicero.

“My dearest Cicero,” the Listener coos, trailing kiss after kiss along his jawline, suckling at the tender flesh of his neck. He sucks in a breath through his teeth, digs his fingers into the supple flesh of her ass.

“My sweet, loyal Cicero,” she praises, nails tickling the sensitive flesh of his thighs.

“My Listener,” is all he can manage to utter, voice cracking as she sinks her teeth into his neck. Gods, he welcomes her markings, her claims on his body. She is his Listener and he is her Keeper. Bound to one another in a union that no one else in the whole world could ever understand.

As Cicero’s hands rove over her body, his eyes drink her form in. He traces the branching veins underneath her skin, each wiry sinew of her muscles, the fibrous tendons of her arms. He can feel the pulse of warm blood flowing through her. Feel the thrum of her heart beating, strong and powerful, behind her ribcage. He lays his lips to the pert bud of one of her nipples and loses his mind at the sound of her keens and gasps.

“Such a pretty voice, my Listener,” he purrs, “You should sing with dear Cicero more.” To this, she gives a twittering laugh. He’s forgotten what a pleasant laugh sounds like and basks in the glory of it. His mind quickly abandons this thought as her hand cups him, massaging and insistent. Gods, he’s so sensitive. It’s been so long. So very long. He won’t last much longer if this keeps up.

Her fingers wrap around his dick, stroke up and down in a languorous fashion. He swallows up her gasp as he swipes a finger along her cunt. She’s so wet already, ready for him. Husky grunts and tiny mewls fill the room, mingling with the crackle of the fire, as she picks up her pace and he dips two fingers into her heat. He pumps, rhythmic and slow, each motion an attempt to show her that Cicero lives to please her. To venerate and worship his beloved Listener.

“Cicero,” she whimpers, breath fanning softly against his lips, her breathing shallow and rapid. She’s close. He can feel her walls quaking around his slick fingers, and he’s not far off either. Her free hand grips his back, digging her fingernails into his flesh, a silent plea for him to fill her. And fill her he shall. Cicero would do anything for his Listener. He would lie prostrate at her feet if she asked him to. Stand guard over her until the very stars in the sky fizzled to nothing but dust.

Cicero withdraws his fingers from her, frowning at the little whine she gives at leaving her empty.

“Hush, dear Listener,” he coos, drawing her in close, “I won’t leave you empty for long. Worry not. Dear Cicero isn’t that cruel.”

His lips press kiss after kiss down her abdomen. He feels her body shiver as he reaches her heat. Cicero’s eyes glimmer with mischief in the firelight, and hers with that ever-present inquisitiveness. She is a vision from any angle, but this one especially. Her breasts rise and fall with each labored breath. She is open to him and he will respect this with every fiber in his being. Now, to worship his Listener as she deserves. Cicero dives into her folds, tongue lapping her up. Her moans are enough to send him into a whole new kind of madness. A welcome, drunken madness. His tongue darts in and out of her entrance, nose bumping against her inner thighs. He grips her legs, tight to keep her in place, but not so tight as to injure her. The feeling of her fingers carding through his hair alone could make him finish.

He lays her on her back, atop his discarded clothes. The floor is cold, hard, and covered in layers of ash and grime. He wouldn’t dare lay her down on this filth. Cicero wouldn’t dream of letting his precious Listener scramble around in the dirt. Cicero will take it all. All the pain of kneeling on the rough stone flooring, fragments digging into his skin. He’ll take the markings and the layer of dark soot that will stain his fair skin. For his Listener. All for her. And he would have it no other way.

This act is sacred. Her pleasuring him, him pleasuring her. This is a reverence he has never known. His tongue swirls around her clit and she breathes his name, a hymn in this temple of night and shadow. She tenses as she comes closer and closer to undoing, her legs shaking in his grasp.

“I want us to finish together, my darling, Cicero,” she begs, and thus he shall oblige. He withdraws from her, licking his lips, lapping her up, luxuriating in the taste of her. She smashes her lips against his, sloppy and desperate. Cicero positions his Listener on his lap, lining her entrance up with his hardened cock.

The scent of iron hangs heavy in the air, his own blood mingling with soot and smoke. His hands grip the supple flesh of her ass and thighs. He kneads and massages as she lowers herself onto his erection, so painfully slow. He handles her carefully. Not like porcelain, no. The Listener is not fragile. Far from it. But he treats her like a fine, ceremonial sword: something elegant and sacred, but sharpened and ready to dole out damage when needed.

“Are you ready, my Keeper?” she questions, eyes dark with lust, cheeks flushed with arousal.

“Cicero is always ready,” he growls. With this, she rocks her hips against his. Sheathed inside of her, Cicero knows what it feels like for the first time to be unioned with the Listener. This bond is beyond anything else he will ever know.

She grinds faster into him, his tip hitting her deep, making her whimper joyously, aching and longing. He’ll gladly let her milk him for all he’s worth. Anything his Listener wants, he’ll oblige. His core tightens, releases, tightens. Her nails dig into his back, his knees into the floor. He’ll be so sore tomorrow, but he cares not. He’d do it again, and again, and again if she wanted. In the enveloping shadows, the Keeper and the Listener come undone for one another. Cicero spills into her, giving all that he has. She tightens around him, walls pulsing, drawing from him everything she needs. Everything he needs. He cries out her name, and she his, prayer-like and hallowed. This sanctuary has become a temple for devotion, for ultimate veneration and reverence. To the union of the Keeper and the Listener.

As they settle, Cicero runs his fingers through her hair, presses kiss after kiss to her cheeks, to her lips, to her temples. Her fingernails tickle his arms, his chest, his cheeks. Is this what peace feels like? He knows the laughter, the silence will return. But for now, he and his Listener can bask in this new silence. This tranquil, unadulterated silence. When he pulls out from her, he lays his lips to hers, an apology for having to separate them. Cum drips down her thigh and he’s swift to help her tidy up.

“My Keeper. My dear Cicero,” she whispers, beaming tenderly as she leans her forehead against his.

“My dear Listener. My beloved Listener,” he returns, drawing her in, letting her rest in his protective embrace. He will protect her, love and cherish her, always and forever. Cicero’s devotion is unmatched, except perhaps by his dear Listener’s devotion to him. He knows the Night Mother will approve of this union. Surely, certainly, wholly and absolutely.

#the elder scrolls #skyrim #cicero #cicero skyrim #the elder scrolls 5 #cicero x listener #the dark brotherhood #the listener #dovakhiin #dragonborn #spicy #skyrim fanfiction #dani writes #skyrim cicero

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everythingpresley · 1 year

Text

Don't You Kiss Me Once or Twice - Chapter 12

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Prompt: Jessica Anderson is Elvis Presley's assistant and after months of working together, slowly something sparks between them. Friendship? Or is it more? [ Fem!Reader ]

Rating: Explicit/Mature (NSFW, 18+), Slowburn

|| Word Count: 5,144

Author's Note: Sorry I haven't updated in a while but I'm finally back! Hope you like this chapter and the new perspective!

Masterlist

Elvis’s POV

2 years ago - 1969

Looking for an assistant was probably the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do and even when I did find one they don’t usually last long. The Colonel has been hounding me to hire one because the work load on him was “too much” and said I needed a personal assistant that can help both me and him. I had just wrapped the first few shows at the International Hotel it was exhilarating, it honestly felt like my heart was going to explode on that stage. It felt great to be back on a stage with a live audience. I had just finished the evening show and jumped into the shower. I threw on some clothes and fixed up my hair when someone knocked on the door.

“E.P!” Jerry’s voice boomed from the other side of the door “You decent, man?”

“Come on in Jerry!” I called out.

Jerry walked in, I turned to see him walk in with probably the most beautiful girl I have ever seen in my entire life. Wow. She had dark brown hair and green eyes. Her bright green eyes stood out to me the most, they were the brightest, emerald green I’ve ever seen. My heart raced when her eyes made contact with my blue ones. Her lips slowly formed into a soft, polite smile. I got the sudden urge to reach forward and kiss her beautiful lips, I needed to feel her lips on mine.

“Hi Mister Presley. I’m Jess Anderson.” She said and walked towards me with her hand outstretched for me to shake. I gulped and managed to smile, taking her hand in mine.

“P-Please call me Elvis, honey.” I smiled, work the charm. She’s already here for you. I kept my eyes on her, I couldn’t take my eyes off of her even if I tried “You’ve out done yourself Jerry. Just my type. Where on earth did you find her?” I grinned at her when she gave me a slightly confused look. I kept my hand in hers. I couldn’t wait to sink my cock balls deep into her after Jerry leaves, why is he still standing around?

“Uh E.P, she’s not-“ Jerry started.

“What?” I asked, frowning slightly when she pulled her hand from my grip. She looked down at her shoes, her cheeks flushing deep red. I wanted to reach forward and kiss her flamed cheeks, she looks way too cute blushing.

“The Colonel liked her CV and thought you should get the final say if you want her as your assistant.” Jerry said.

Oh Fuck.

“Oh.” I breathed, then turned to look at Jerry who smiled sheepishly. I thought she was one of the girls from the show “My assistant.”

I turned to look at Jess, my assistant. She bit her lip, looking everywhere but at me “I-I’m sorry honey, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

She chuckled and looked up, finally making eye contact with me again “It’s no problem Mister Presley.”

“Elvis please, Miss Anderson.” I smiled.

“Sure but only if you call me Jess.” She smiled back, more relaxed and less timid and I swear she could hear my heart beating out of my chest.

“Of course. Jess.” I breathed.

“I’ll be here in Vegas for a few days and we can get to know each other better to see if this would actually work. I won’t take much of your time, I’ll see you tomorrow before rehearsals?” She said.

I nodded.

Ah shit. I made a complete fool outta myself. She’s possibly my new assistant. I’m screwed.

After the midnight show, getting into bed I couldn’t help but let my thoughts drift to my new assistant. I slipped my hands into my silk pajama bottoms, palming my cock imagining her big pouty lips wrapped around my cock, her big bright green eyes looking up at me with tears streaming down her beautiful face as I pounded into the back of her throat. I moaned, pumping my cock faster in my hand. Oh I'm in so much trouble, acting like a damn little boy cuming into his pants. Hell, she didn’t even have to do much and I was already aching for her.

The next day I got dressed in a red button down with puffy sleeves, black slacks and one of my favorite chunky, chain belts. I didn’t get the chance to see Jess because we had rehearsals so I guess I’ll see her after. I walked on stage, making sure to greet the band when I spotted her siting in the audience seats with the Colonel, my daddy and Jerry. She smiled at me when I looked at her, I grinned and nodded a greeting to her.

“Damn man, that’s your new assistant?” James asked, standing next to me. I nodded, turning my head to see him stare at her “How will you ever get any work done with her around?” He chuckled.

“I have no idea.” I mumbled, my eyes focused on her. His words made my stomach churn, I didn’t want him talking about her in any way or looking at her like a damn thirsty dog.

We started rehearsals singing a few songs, I made sure to sneak glances back at her to see her reaction. She was smiling slightly the entire time. Jerry said something which made her turn and laugh. I frowned wanting her attention back at me so I started goofing around and making jokes which made her laugh out loud. I grinned looking at her, that was the best damn sound, it was like music to my ears. I decided it was my mission to make her laugh.

I jumped down the stage when we took a break and walked over to the table they were siting at.

“What did you think doll?” I said, placing my palms on the table and leaning forward to look at her.

“That was incredible and it was just the rehearsal, can’t imagine seeing you actually perform to an audience.” She smiled brightly.

I chuckled, feeling my cheeks heat up at her compliment “ What do you think of her daddy?” I turned to my dad.

“She’s a sweetheart and she’s damn funny.” Daddy said which made her chuckled and shake her head.

“She has the same sense of humor as you.” Jerry added, grinning at her “I think she’ll fit in perfectly with us.”

“Wow, I made that good of an impression in one day?” She asked chuckling. We all laughed along with her.

“What do you think Colonel?” I asked, turning to the Colonel.

“Up to you, my boy.” He replied shrugging “She does have a good resume, she seems smart and capable.”

“Okay then. You’re hired.” I said, turning to look at her.

She furrowed her brows “Are you sure? I-I don’t want you to make a rash decision.”

I chuckled “I’m not. Don’t worry darlin’”

“Well… you could always fire me if it doesn’t work out.” She shrugged.

I burst out laughing “Well… yeah.”

She stood up and grinned, stretching her hand out to me “But I promise, I’ll do my very best job. Thank you for the opportunity, Elvis.”

I grinned, biting down on my lip. I loved the way my name rolled off of her tongue. I reached forward and grasped her hand, shaking it gently. God her hand was tiny in mine.

I looked into those pretty green eyes and I knew, she could bat her dark lashes at me and I would fold and give her the world. This girl is gonna be a pain in my ass.

Present Day - 1971

Fuck. My heart dropped when Jess landed harshly on the ground with a loud bang. My legs felt like jello, I couldn’t move. It took me a second before I quickly took off, running towards her screaming her name repeatedly. Oh please be okay, please.

“Jess!” I yelled, sliding on the sand as I got on my knees next to her head “Come on honey, please open your eyes.” I cradled her head in my hands and reached down to unclip her helmet. I threw it to the side and tapped her cheek “Please sweet girl, please open your eyes.”

“Help me!” I yelled. I spotted one of my security guards sprinting over to me.

“Mr. Presley? Are you okay? We heard a loud thud.” He panted.

“No! Call an ambulance!”

He nodded quickly and ran off.

“Don’t do this to me, Jess.” I muttered, not knowing what to do. My eyes filled with tears, please wake up “Please baby. Please.” I felt helpless. I cradled her closer, dipping my face into her neck. The familiar sent of her perfume that she always wore hit my nostrils, I inhaled deeply. My favorite smell in the whole world. I could feel the tears streaming down my face as we waited for the ambulance to get here. I made sure that she wore a helmet so why isn’t she waking up?

“Mr. Presley.” The security guard called “Mr. Presley.” He repeated. I didn’t hear him the first time, I was praying that she would wake up “The EMT is here.”

“What happened?” The EMT asked.

“She uh- she-“ I started, not being able to speak because I was trying to hold back my tears. My throat burned, I wanted to let it out “She f-f-fell off the-the h-horse. But she-she was w-wearing her helmet.”

The picked her up and got her into the ambulance, I quickly jumped in with them. I took my hand in hers and continued to pray to God that she would wake up and be okay. She had to. Please be okay, please, please I chanted again and again in my head.

“Mr. Presley, you need to let her go. She needs to go in for a CT scan, she might have a brain bleed.” The doctor said when I refused to let go of her hand.

I gulped and reluctantly let go “But she wore a helmet. I don’t understand.” I whispered watching my heart getting rolled away in a gurney.

“Mr. Presley, helmets reduce the risk of head injury by as much as fifty percent but it doesn’t completely eliminate the risk.” The doctor said and gave me a pitiful smile “But hopefully the helmet did protect her brain, we just need to see the CT scan to help us understand why she isn’t waking up.” He left, walking through the swinging doors that Jess just passed through.

“Mr. Presley, please lets get you upstairs in a private room while you wait for her. People are already looking.” The nurse said and ushered me to the elevators.

It just hit me that people were actually staring at me, they recognized me and I didn’t have any of my security on me. I sat in the private room for a few minutes when the entire Memphis Mafia minus Jerry came bursting in. I made sure my tears were wiped, I didn’t need them seeing me cry.

“E.P! What the fuck happened?!” Red asked with wide eyes.

“Jess fell off the horse.” I mumbled, keeping my eyes strained at my feet when I felt them burn with unshed tears. She’s okay, I shouldn’t be crying. She’s okay.

“W-What? Is she okay?” Charlie asked.

“I-I don’t know.” I whispered.

“Well she’s gotta be okay. It’s Jess, she’s-she’s strong.” Joe said. I looked up to see him gulping and running his hands through his hair. Charlie already had tears in my eyes. I’ve never seen the guys get emotional over anything, this just goes to prove how much everyone loved Jess. Even though she’s the newest one of the group, she seemed to capture the entire group’s hearts.

I don’t know how long we sat in that room, the Mafia Members going back and forth to the cafeteria, getting coffee and food. I couldn’t bring myself to eat. My mind was racing.

“Mr. Presley.” The doctor announced, walking into the room.

“Yeah?” I asked, standing up. My heart raced as I waited for the next words that came out of his mouth.

“Good news, she doesn't have a brain bleed. Had she not been wearing that helmet, she probably would’ve been in a way worse shape.”

“Thank god.” Everyone mumbled.

“Okay, is she awake?” I asked.

“Unfortunately, she isn’t. Since she hit her head pretty hard, she does have a very bad concussion. She should be waking up but we did all the tests, there is no reason for her to still be unconscious. We just need to wait for her.” The doctor continued.

“Fuck.” I mumbled, running my hands through my hair in frustration.

“They’re bringing her in in a few minutes.” The doctor said and left.

The nurses wheeled her in and I felt like I was going to explode. I couldn’t cry in front of them, I can’t.

“We’ll uh, wait outside.” Red said and indicated for everyone to follow him out, shutting the door behind them. It was just me and her. I stayed still in my spot, staring at her beautiful face. I slowly crept forward and grasped her hand in mine, I placed a small kiss on the top of her hand as the tears started streaming down my face.

“Wake up Jess.” I mumbled against her hand “Wake up baby.”

I let go of her hand and ran my fingers through her soft hair and caressed her cheek.

“I love you.” I whispered, looking down at her beautiful face “I love you. I love you.” I repeated “Please wake up.”

I loved her so much. It didn’t hit me till now how much I loved this one person. She made my heart beat out of my chest. I looked forward to the days when its just me and her at Graceland, those were my favorite. Before her I used to love when Graceland was filled with my friends and family, now I loved when it was just us. I can’t lose her. I can’t. She needs to be here. I need to experience waking up with her in my arms again. I could count the times I slept so good. Three. Three times I slept so good. The first time we slept together. The day she gave me a massage. The time she was drunk and slept in my bed in California. It was all with her. I love her.

When you are not in love, you’re not alive. Everything was a thousand times better when she was around. Everything seemed brighter. Yes we weren’t together but our relationship felt like we were married for a very long time without the intimacy part. We cared for one another. She understood me and that’s all I ever wanted was to be understood. She didn’t try to change me and she didn’t make fun of my beliefs.

I pulled a chair up to her bed and buried my face into the blanket by her waist and held her hand in mine when all of a sudden the door burst open. I lifted my head and saw a tearful Grace and Jerry walking in.

“What happened?” Grace gasped.

“She fell.” I mumbled, letting go of her hand as Grace walked over and placed her hand on Jess’ head, caressing her forehead.

“When is she waking up?” Jerry asked coming to stand next to his wife.

“They don't know.” I replied.

“Oh my god.” Grace cried and turned to hug Jerry who bit down on his lip harshly but I could still see the tears in his eyes. I looked away not being able to hold myself together.

“Excuse me.” Jerry mumbled once Grace pulled away from him, he quickly rushed out of the room.

“Oh Elvis. Is she gonna be okay?”

“I-I don’t know Grace.” I said my voice cracking “This is all my fault.” I mumbled, running my hands through my hair.

“What- Elvis.” Grace shook her head no.

I shook my head, my lips trembling “It’s my fault. If-if I-I-i didn’t wake her up to teach her then she would probably be waking up right now in Graceland. It’s all m-my fault.” I cried, wiping my tears as they came rushing down my face.

“Elvis, Elvis. Stop. This is not your fault whatsoever, how could you have predicted this? You were so gentle and slow with her the entire time. I saw it. You made sure she was safe and you didn’t take your eyes off of her for a second. It was an accident, that’s all it is. An accident.” Grace said.

“What if she doesn't wake up?” I whispered.

Grace gulped and turned to look at Jess’ sleeping form.

“I didn’t even get to-“ I started then realized what I was about to say. I was about to admit it out loud and I wasn’t ready. Not when I knew Jess didn’t feel the same way.

“You didn’t get to what?” Grace asked slowly.

I turned to look at Jess “I didn’t get to tell her how I feel about her.” I sighed.

“I knew it!” Grace said loudly “Sorry.” She said when I looked at her. This was not the time at all.

I reached over and grabbed her hand once again.

“She’s gonna wake up, Elvis. She’s gonna wake up and you’ll get to tell her how you feel.” Grace said.

I gulped, keeping my eyes on our intertwined hands “She has to.” I whispered.

“Something happened between you two, right?” Grace asked.

“She didn’t tell you?” I asked. She shook her head no “Of course she didn’t. She pretended like it didn’t happen. We slept together.” And it killed me when she woke up the next day and regretted it. I had to pretend like I didn’t care so that she doesn’t quit and leave. Because I would rather have her around as my assistant than not have her at all.

Grace gasped “I can’t believe she didn’t tell me.”

“Because she wanted to erase it out of her memory.”

“Were you that bad?” Grace joked, trying to lighten up the mood. I chuckled caressing my thumb back and forth on her hand.

“No but she doesn't want me.”

“Elvis- that-that is not true.” Grace shook her head.

“It’s okay Grace.” I shook my head.

I slept with my head on the bed right next to her when someone shook my shoulder.

“Son, you need to go home. Get some sleep.” Dad said.

“I’m fine dad.” I sighed, rubbing my hands down my face.

“It’s okay, her parents are coming in any minute now.”

“I’m not leaving her side, dad.” I groaned, cracking my neck. My back and neck ached from the awkward position I was in when I fell asleep. It was officially the next day and her parents and siblings flew in to see her. I was dreading seeing them. I went into the bathroom that was joined to the room to freshen up, wash my face and brush my teeth. I felt dirty, still in yesterday’s clothes but got rid of my jacket.

“Elvis!” Her mom said when I came out of the bathroom. She had tears streaming down her face. I smiled timidly at her, walking over to her to hug her.

“I’m so sorry.” I whispered.

“It’s not your fault honey.” She said, rubbing my back soothingly.

“Mr. Anderson.” I greeted, shaking his hand. Ella smiled and hugged me while Jack shook my hand.

“The doctor said we should let her rest and hope for the best.” I informed them.

“She’ll wake up.” Mr. Anderson said, looking down at his eldest daughter “Jess is strong. She’s just being stubborn right now. She wants to see us cry a little.” He chuckled, running his hands through her hair.

“Yeah, she’s being a little stubborn.” I said chuckling “Hard headed this girl.”

“She really is.” Mrs. Anderson said.

“Where are you staying at?” I asked them.

“We booked a hotel but we still didn’t check-in.” Jack said and I spotted their bags by the door.

“Nonsense.” I shook my head, frowning at them “Jerry!” I called. Jerry walked in “Take the Andersons’ bags to Graceland.”

“No, no, honey. It’s okay.” Mrs. Anderson shook her head.

“No, please.” I shook my head, not taking no for an answer “Go to Graceland, rest. You guys had a long flight. I’ll call you if anything changes, I’m not letting her out of my sight.”

Daddy and Grace forced me to eat, Grace even went out of her way to go to Graceland and get peanut and banana sandwiches from Martha, my personal cook. They got me new clothes and I showered in Jess’ hospital room.

Jess wasn’t budging even when I tried to annoy her to wake her up.

“Jess.” I whispered in her ear “Jessica. Wake up. Don’t make me get an ice bucket and dump it on you.” I poked her nose “Wake up Jesssssica.” I sang in her ear “Do you want me to sing Lawdy Miss Clawdy again? Is that gonna wake you up?”

I sighed in frustration “Please honey.” I said and kissed her forehead “Open your beautiful green eyes that I love so much.”

“Hey.” I looked up to see Janice walking in.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I asked when I spotted Matt walking in behind her.

Grace also walked in, her eyes widened when she saw Matt.

“I’m here to see my girlfriend.” Matt replied.

“Like hell she is.” I growled, stalking forward when Grace jumped in in front of me, placing her hands on my chest.

“Elvis. Now’s not the time.” Grace said.

Janice shook her head and walked past us to see Jess.

“Get out.” I told Matt.

“I need to see her.”

“You came, you saw her. Now leave.” I clenched my jaw.

“Elvis, just let him see her for a second.” Grace said. I looked down at her, nostrils flaring. She raised her hands up in surrender.

“No.” I hissed.

“Seriously now is not the time for this.” Janice huffed, tears streaming down her face.

“Fine. But only for a second.” I said and went back to stand by Jess’ side, opposite of Janice. Matt walked in and stood next to Janice, reaching down to grasp Jess’ hand. I clenched my jaw but didn’t say anything, I hated seeing him with her. How come she wants him? He’s a lucky son of a bitch.

“Oh baby.” He whispered. Janice moved so that Matt could get closer to her. He leaned down and kissed her cheek “Please wake up. You promised me another date.”

I bit down on my tongue and clenched my fist.

They’re going on another date? Over my dead body.

He then leaned down and pecked her lips.

“That’s it! Get out!” I exploded and walked around the bed, pushing him back.

“What the hell man?! What is your problem?!”

“You.” I growled, getting in his face “You are my problem.”

“Get off me man.” Matt said and pushed me back.

“Oh you son of a bitch.” I pushed him back.

“Hey! Stop!” Grace yelled as we continued to push each other.

“Stop it!” Janice yelled getting between us “Jess is in a coma! And you guys are fighting like little kids!”

“This is your fault!” Matt snarled.

I breathed heavily not being able to reply, he was right. It was my fault. She wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for me.

“It was an accident.” Grace replied, jumping to my defense “It’s no one’s fault. Things like this happen.”

“Matt stop.” Janice said when Matt was about to speak again “Let’s just go. Grace, please keep us updated if anything changes.”

Janice pulled Matt by the arm, both walking out of Jess’ hospital room.

I sighed and ran my hands down my face.

“Look we’re all on edge here. You need to go home, Elvis. You need to get some sleep.” Grace said.

“You think I’ll be able to sleep?” I scoffed.

“Maybe Dr. Nick can help you relax.” Dad said, walking in, hearing our conversation.

“I don’t need sleep. I don’t need Dr. Nick. I need Jess to wake the hell up!” I yelled and swiped the tray off food that was brought for me on the ground.

“Elvis! Calm down!” Dad yelled.

“I will not calm down! Why isn’t she waking up?! Why do these dumbass doctors have no idea what’s wrong with her?!” I growled, pulling at my hair.

“They’re doing all they can! The brain is unpredictable!”

“I’m sick and tried of hearing this.” I choked, tears welding up in my eyes.

“It’s been three days. Maybe she just needs to rest for a while.” Grace said “She’ll wake up.” She said and squeezed my shoulder, walking out of the room.

“Look I know you feel guilty about what happened but you don’t need to punish yourself.” Dad said.

“How am I punishing myself?”

“By being by her side and not leaving the room, not eating. Her parents are here, they can stay with her.” He replied.

I was not punishing myself whatsoever. I want to be here by her side. I want to be the first one to see her open her eyes. I felt sick thinking of a world without her, I had no appetite. He doesn’t understand that she’s more than just my assistant.

“Why are you here, if you don’t care?” I asked him.

“Of course I care about her. But you’re killing yourself just to be by her side.” He replied “Let’s go home. The Colonel says we need to discuss a few things.”

“That son of a bitch!” I snarled “I will not repeat myself. I. Am. Not. Leaving. And you can tell the Colonel to go fuck himself. Coward, selfish, bastard.” I seethed. It pissed me off that the Colonel things I have the mental capacity to discuss business matters right now. That bastard didn’t even bother coming to visit Jess.

“Do you have a comb?” I asked the nurse when she walked in to check on Jess after my dad left.

“Yes, let me get it for you.” The nurse smiled, got me a comb and left.

It was already way past the visiting hours, a lot of people came and went. Her family, the Mafia members etc. But now I was on my own with her. I payed the nurses to let me stay even though I wasn’t allowed to stay.

I pushed the bed slightly away from the wall to squeeze behind Jess’ bed with the comb in my hand.

“So I was reading a book on Comas.” I talked to Jess as I pulled her hair gently from under her head to sprawl it up on the pillow. I made Joe go and get me some books on comas and read them while I waited for Jess to wake up.

“I learnt that people still don’t know if you can hear when people talk to Coma patients. Some say yes while others say no but I’m still going to talk to you and pretend you can actually hear me. Anyway, I learnt about something that no one ever talks about is that people in a coma can experience really bad hair matting so I’m gonna comb your hair so that it doesn’t get matted.” I told her as I slowly combed through her hair, starting from the bottom and worked myself up “Don’t want your beautiful hair to get tangled now do we?” I grinned down at her.

“It’s now or never. Come hold me tight. Kiss me my darling. Be mine tonight.” I sang softly to her as I brushed through her hair “When I first saw you, with your smile so tender. My heart was captured. My soul surrendered. I’d spend a lifetime, waiting for the right time.”

My mind wandered through the memories of us together. Recently I haven’t been able to actually keep my hands to myself and sometimes I get the urge to just kiss her cheek only because I know she would murder me if I kissed her lips. She would start the whole rant about how I’m her boss and she’s my assistant. She still kissed me back the other day even after her stupid date with that asshole. God I just remembered how hurtful it was to find out she was out on a date, my heart dropped. She doesn’t owe me anything, I know but it still killed me inside. So I did what I do best by turning that hurt into rage. I have no idea what came over me when I rushed out and drove to find her, I saw red at that moment.

“Are you gonna wake up, sweet girl?” I asked her after I finished singing the song.

“I’ve been awake for a while.” She croaked. My hands stilled, my eyes snapping from her hair to her face. She moved her neck up to look up at me. I gasped quietly, looking down at her. Oh, my heart. Those green eyes. Am I dreaming? Is she actually awake?

“I need water.” She said and gulped harshly.

“Oh my god. You’re awake.” I whispered, stuck in place.

“What the heck happened?” She asked “Elvis?” She asked again when I didn’t respond.

“Sorry.” I quickly rushed, pouring her a glass of water. I handed her the water when she sat up “You-you fell off of the horse.”

“Oh… yeah.” She said after taking a sip “I didn’t listen to you, I wasn’t holding on properly.”

I frowned looking at her while she smiled sheepishly at me.

“You think that’s funny?” I asked her, anger building up.

“No I-“ She started but I cut her off.

“I was scared to fucking death!” I yelled “I told you to hold on! What the fuck were you thinking Jess! Why weren’t you listening to me!”

“I-I was but-“

“God Jess! You were in a coma for three fucking days! You almost gave me a heart attack!” Why was I yelling at her, the poor girl just woke up but my emotions were all over the place especially with the lack of sleep.

“Three days?” She whispered, looking down at the cup in her hands “I’m sorry.”

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair “I’m sorry, I-I shouldn’t be yelling at you. It wasn’t your fault.” I turned away from her and wiped the tears from my eyes.

“Elvis.” She sighed.

“I-I need to call the nurse or the doctor, or something.” I mumbled and walked out of her room.

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