#sequential orgasms

[generoustummy]

At 5:01 this morning I welcomed my 7 lbs son into the world. I was in active labor for 29 hours and pushed for two. My belly was lots of amniotic fluid my water broke with a gushing waterfall. Pain was manageable but put me to my limits. Met my goal of no tears and getting my body to shift and prepare for future pregnancies by a slower labor. My hips are forever changed🤣

From here on our my posts will be shorter one off stories and/or not sequentially follow my pregnancies.

Let me know if you would like to contribute to my next pregnancy....I will need to get knocked up soon, and supported through my hormonal urges in pregnancy. I want to try new birthing techniques such as waterbirth or orgasmic.

Finally I have some audio that I might post soon!

[ourolite2]

ᨳິ petites idées!　　nsfw, smut. various genshin characters.　different animal alignments *round of applause* themes — gn!reader (w/ barely any specified anatomical context), hinted backshots/riding, obsessive/servile behavior, overstimulation/edging, cock warming, edging, brat taming (on both ends), subtle manipulation, restraints, usage of toys, immense dirty talk, slight corruption, mentions of going unconscious, mentions of straps, somnophilia (written consensually), + thigh humping- GYATT, there’s a lot… ༄

✦ 𝒟om doggo personalities who are experimental softies and pleasers who would do anything to ensure your satisfaction if you cajole them with the correct treats. Because these loyal little things desires will go miles for your recognition, it’s safe to assume that they’re a couple of sycophantic servants with their minds hellbent on quaffing down whatever is between your plush thighs, their poochie eyes soused with zeal as they lick you until your cum dissipates on their taste buds. They would be unduly stimulating, considering that you’d reach the pinnacle of pleasure once their tongue adulates your body as a reward for treating them with such kindness. Though it’s needless to say that they’re not all sunshines and rainbows, for some could be punishingly desperate if you haven’t returned the adoration, feeling a sense of regret pile onto their heart. They’d question your love for them, tears embellishing their miffed expressions as your walls fail to grasp around them considering how possessively they’ll pound inside of you, not caring about you being on your sixth orgasm — they’d just fuck you through another again and again and again. As long as you sincerely understand how much your attention means to them.

✧ “Feels good? Want more? C’mon, puppy.. do a trick for me? Shake? That’s a good pup.. Now, cum?” CHONGYUN, Neuvillette, CHILDE, Amber, ITTO, Navia, KAVEH, Yoimiya, EI, Furina, Kokomi, Candace, GOROU, + Thoma ordered you breathlessly and hopelessly as they watched your ass shake and undulate on their strap/dick, a spate of breathless moans eluding your lips during the process. Once the command has been established, your body would had practically collapsed onto the silk-infused duvets if it wasn’t from them holding you upwards so you could cum cooperatively and sequentially.

✦ 𝒮ub puppy personalities who will give their viability in order to retreat such amorous praises from you, so it’s safe to conclude that they’re just as obsequious as their dominant counterparts. Their adulation, overprotection and servile attributes deserve high-quality treats that would leave them compliant for the rest of the seasons. Although they’re practically brainwashed into maintaining your pleasure, whether it's with lecherous experiments that leave their vulnerabilities exposed for you to exploit and taint or smothering you with amaranthine gifts that they know you’d relish in, a puppy is still a puppy. It’s your job to give them more attention than anticipated, otherwise they’ll rebelliously defy you, purposely cumming without permission merely because you’ve demanded them to hold it. Their devotional minds are easily tempted into disorder, but they’re also prone to correction since their primary goal in life is to make you happy. Spewing panty apologies as you fuck them relentlesly, their whines and blabbers far from comprehensible, but you knew that this was more than enough to make them capitulate.

✧ “Mmnh- No, don’t wanna sit. Aren’t I your pretty puppy? M’ I a good puppy? I wanna- wanna.. up? Up, please? Please?” GOROU, Ayaka, Kokomi, NEUVILLETTE, Xingqiu, ITTO, Charlotte, + Ganyu implored somewhat comprehensively as spittle cascaded from the corner of their mouth, frantically grinding their hips against your crotch since they’re completely tempted to begin bouncing on your dick/strap like before. However, it would take much more than just polished, dewy, pleading eyes gleaming down at you to convince you to make them cum, let alone repetitive begging that should’ve been muted hours ago.

✦ 𝒟om feline personalities who innately presided over you once you’ve confirmed that you were theirs, therefore are outwardly self-possessed and assertive. While also experimentalists due to their insatiable curiosity, they’ll selfishly coax you into trying new things with them, their dilated, tantalizing eyes enrapturing you during the process. It would be a crime to tell such a guileless plea no, but your chafed wrists and desiccated throat wished you ruminated your words with healthier care. They expect to be lionized incessantly, even when your vocal cords lack the capability to produce anything that doesn’t resemble streams of whimper-like moans, even when they fail to grant you a millisecond of their time, even when you’re stuffed with a bullet vibrator that was on the highest setting available. You’d think that these personalities were insouciant towards your well-being, which discloses an intense suggestion of narcissism, but there’s an impending punishment awaiting for you if you were to speak of someone who isn’t nearly as important as them. Beseech them with mewls if you desire forgiveness, or else your skin will go pallid with the amount of cum suffusing with it, whether it’s theirs, which likely isn’t, or yours.

✧ “You call that apologizing? You’re still too comprehensible… Prove yourself better than that, little dove. Give me what I want, then I’ll have my pretty fingers in your pretty hole.” SCARAMOUCHE, Yelan, AL-HAITHAM, Wanderer, ZHONGLI, Lumine, Lynette, ROSARIA, Ayato, Beidou, YAE MIKO, CYNO, Tighnari, NINGGUANG, + Lisa retorts tauntingly as the vibrations of the toy intensified causing your legs to quake incessantly, your lips spew with squeaks, and your tears to prick harsher than the prickles of cacti. Instead of providing for any necessary comfort, they simply assisted your upcoming, and rather forced, orgasm by fucking you thoughtlessly with the cum-drenched bullet.

✦ 𝒮ub kitty personalities whose imprudence is genetically unbearable since these brats tend to overstep your boundaries solely because you told them not to do such. However, if you overlook their overbearing arrogance and overwhelming urges to poke at your wrong nerves, they’re simply adorable little things who wish to be doted on and coddled by you every second of their day, hence the excessive need to go overboard just for a lick of your attention. From innumerably rutting against silk-infused pillows with their doors ajar, their mewls disrupting your ability to focus on your work, to embellishing your tip/clit with taunting kitten licks before leaving you exasperated and needy. Have you considered teaching them a thing or two about patience? Forcefully shoving your dick/strap inside of them and ensuring that their moments are limited in order for you to tend to your work, disregarding the meaningless, ironic puppy-like whines against your shoulder, or the simmering sensations on your back as the regretful kitty in question excavated their claws into your back?

✧ “Mm-Master, let me cum... M’ a good kitty, right? I don’t… can’t- mmuh, pleaseplease.. C’mon? C’mon.. come on!” SCARAMOUCHE, Venti, LYNEY, Childe, Hu Tao, WANDERER, Venti, Eula, Zhongli, Wriothesley, HEIZOU, Mona, + Kaeya pleaded impatiently as your dick/strap fucked into them relentlessly resulting in them losing balance to the point where the only stability available is your hands which were grasping needily onto their waist. Each and every time cum threatened to spill from them, you’d halt your actions, which induced the blubbers and writhes significantly from the toy in desperate need of fulfillment as much as they’re deprived of punishment.

✦ 𝒟om rabbit personalities who are the clingiest when it comes to you and only you. Even with their timidity, they would bury it under the fabric of your shirt by hiding their heads underneath it, desiring to kiss along your mesmerizing skin without looking up at your puckish expression. Although they’re also willing to please and learn, they’re lack of understanding in certain fields causes hesitation, so you’re like guiding these poor souls. You’ve managed to misconstrue their brain into believing a plethora of artless ideals defines something rather lecherous, such as binkying in their lap as you ride/scissor them for ages, cum spluttering from your pretty pussy/tip as they spittle broken apologies and pleas due to understimulation. Meanwhile you’re the one that should be dying of thirst with the way those rabid sweethearts fuck you dry, whispering degrading nothings you’ve taught them to use in hopes they’ll eventually remmeber that it’s merely apart of foreplay. There’s not enough aftercare in the world to assist them, considering your first time with one of these individuals led to being fucked unconscious.

✧ “Mmmph- conejito… pl-please don’t sleep n-now, need you… want inside! Jusa lil’ more? Can’t.. just so mesmerizing when you cum all over my dick/strap..” VENTI, Chongyun (on them damn chilis), Hu Tao, XIAO, Lyney, + HEIZOU cried out subconsciously as they proceeded to weakly rut against your inanimate body, their mind muffled and muddled with a hazy lechery that could only be described as voracious. Even around the moment they were gradually comprehending your state, they had yet to snap out of it, even while the back of their mind is squealing to stop.

✦ 𝒮ub bunnies whose excitement and impatience is unbridled once you’ve mentioned that you were willing to please them when it’s needed, which ends up being hourly considering a rabbit’s inconceivable libido. In general, they need loads of attention considering how snoopy and energetic they are, let alone a tad brattish if they don’t receive what they want instantaneously. Though, when it came to it, much like their dominant counterparts, they were extremely modest during the first few weeks of training. Determining their favorite positions, beloved spots they adore being pleased with, or even going as far as coaxing them into behaving uncharacteristically if they want to make you proud. However, while being harebrained and impatient, they would bypass the preliminaries completely and lead as if they’ve invented foreplay, sloppily and selfishly binkying and grinding their hips against the surface of your thigh while you’re asleep. The overwhelming idea of you awakening and abasing them, which they weren’t even fond of before meeting you, was arousing them to the point where they brainlessly spittled their desires like forbidden affirmations.

✧ “A-And then—hmah! Sssh.. So much cum will be stuffed inside my mm-mouth. You’ll f-fuck my mouth, lips… c-call me mean names like.. b-boring bunny…” KABUKIMONO, Aether, Sucrose, Kazuha, Freminet, KAVEH, Shenhe, Nilou, LADY FURINA, Ei, + Layla + Xiao spluttered mindlessly as they humped the slight arch in your back considering that they’re straddling you, and yet you have yet to wake up, or so they assumed. With every grasp of your waist and aggressive thrust sent to your back, which was adorned by a series of rhythmic, sharp whines, your body jerked along with the bed, causing you to smile sadistically to yourself.

⑅ ourolite productions. all rights fucking reserved, do not plagiarize.

[everybodyshusband]

go on husband say those thoughts out loud.

SDKBFSKDFJNSD (ask in reference to this post and my tags on it) unfortunately my thoughts are not as unhinged as i was making them sound..

buuuuut i do think that rain deserves to put a vibrator in himself before the ritual (his heat is coming up and he's been uncontrollably horny, he'll forever claim it's not his fault) and "accidentally" uses one that connects to an app but, oh ? what's that ? once the vibe is turned on all of the ghouls get a notification on their phones telling them that a paired device is active ? hmm... what a shaaaaame... 👀

and what a shame too that swiss is the only one who keeps his phone on him during rituals out of a habit that he refuses to break and so he's the only one that's privy to the reason why rain has been stumbling around all night.. and it'd be awful if he decided to ramp up the vibrations progressively throughout the ritual, not letting rain take a break for even a second and only allowing him the relief of an orgasm when a song comes to an end...

basically i think that rain deserves to cum over and over and over again onstage and i'd like to believe that that gif of his body shaking (especially his THIGHS, GOD) is the result of arguably too many sequential orgasms that by the time the ritual is over have rendered him almost completely useless on account of a) how horny he still is from the whole situation and b) how much he's still constantly shaking

also everyone sweats up on that stage so if rain happens to squirt through his pants then no one's really going to notice, right ? 👀

[steddieunderdogfics]

Not sure if it’s too late to suggest fics for the Color Monday Challenge, but I’ve got three.

Blinking red light by cuips_not_cute (Alternating POV; S4). Eddie is facing a massive trial for murder charges, and his lawyer seems to think it’s a lost cause. Steve comes up with an idea to create an alibi that no one in small town Indiana will be able to refute. Yep! It’s a series of sex tapes faked to look like Steve and Eddie have been sleeping together for two years before the murders. Each chapter is typically one to two tapings. It’s very explicit and heavy on the angst! This fic is ongoing and updating regularly.

Three Days on the Red Planet by CaptainHoney. It’s the Mechanic Eddie and Car Guy Steve on Mars. How cool is that?? Steve keeps finding reasons to break his speeder bike so that mechanic Eddie can fix it. It was so unique I haven’t seen a lot of sci-fi Steddie. This is a complete fic.

A Tarnished Copper Boy by PaperBackRibs (Eddie POV). This is my favorite on-going fic right now, although I’m pretty sure the author has said it’s finished. Season 4 Steve is stuck in a time-loop, falling through Eddie’s ceiling at random (yet sequential) points in time, starting with season 1 Eddie. After Dustin explains the Butterfly Effect in the first loop, Steve’s so anxious about ruining the future that he and Eddie decide it’s best if he never talks about it or leaves the trailer. The amount of time Steve spends with Eddie before he blips from existence is extremely inconsistent, leading to angst, whump, and a slow burn. (This could also be used for the Time-Loop theme weekend)

blinking red light by cuips_not_cute

@cuips-not-cute

Rating: Explicit

69,120 words, 6/20 chapters

Archive Warning: No Warnings

Tags: Sex Tapes, Fuck Or Die, or like...fuck or go to jail for One housand Years, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Spit Kink, Kissing, Making Out, Steve Harrington's Soft Dom Awakening, Soft Dom Steve Harrington, pleasure dom steve harrington, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Sub Eddie Munson, Bottom Eddie Munson, Top Steve Harrington, but also...they switch!, Bottom Steve Harrington, Top Eddie Munson, First Time Bottoming, First Time, Virgin Eddie Munson, Friends to Lovers, but it takes them a reallyy long time to get to that second part, Eddie's facing jail and Steve's like hey we should fuck, to Eddie's utter dismay, Bisexual Steve HarringtonGay Eddie Munson, Lingerie, Blow Jobs, Anal Fisting, the softest gooiest fisting you ever did read, Rimming, Dry Humping, Recreational Drug Use, Edging, Bondage, Safeword Use, Dom Drop, Sub Drop, they get it together i promise, Impact Play, steve being fascinated by eddie's actual ass, Prostate Massage, Drunk Sex, Drunk Kissing, Angst with a Happy Ending, but oh boy is there angst, Wrestling, and with that comes ill-timed boners, orgasms as a negotiation tool, despite being the lamest guy around steve actually has some game, Kink Discovery, Hair-pulling, Praise Kink, Service Top Steve Harrington, Multiple Orgasms, Friends With Benefits, kindaaaa, they are definitely friends who fuck each other but there's some twists, Spanking, sweat kink, idiots to lovers, Mutual Pining, Wet & Messy, Hand & Finger Kink, Sex Toys, Ass Play, Miscommunication, Felching

Summary:

A sex tape is…crazy. It’s totally crazy. It wouldn’t work, and it's worse than any of Steve’s other ideas because…well, because Steve is straight. And hopeful. And stupid. It wouldn’t work. “No way,” Eddie says. “I’m not gonna make a fucking sex tape.” Steve leans down, gets in his face. Eddie’s breath hitches. “Why not?” Steve asks. “You scared?” In the months following Vecna's death, Eddie is facing triple murder charges and a lifetime in jail. With Dr. Owens gone off the grid and a town that hates him, that plea deal his lawyer offers him is looking pretty sweet. Enter Steve Harrington, who is having none of that.

Three Days on The Red Planet by CaptainHoney

@grandmastattoo

Rating: Explicit

10,872 words, 1/1 chapters

Archive Warning: Creator chose not to use

Tags: Space Western AU, Sci Fi AU, Western AU, what if stranger things but on mars, literally a bog standard steddie fic but they're on mars, eddie has a mechanical arm, the upside down monsters are all aliens, enemies to lvoers speedrun, eddie thinks it's enemies to lovers but it's actually dumbass4dumbass, non-detailed mentions of medical procedures, injury description, references to blood and gore, this is all reasonably gentle but there's Past Trauma, tommy H the experimental town bicycle that you are, brief mentions of past underage sex, Open Ending, sci fi in the classic tradition in that I made a bunch of stuff up, written with the wikipedia page for Mars open and unperused, completely innaccurate space science, anti-capitalist and anti-colonial themes because fuck the man, implied childhood neglect, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Gay Eddie Munson, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Rimming, Virgin Eddie Munson, Intercrurual Sex, lots of spit and crass talk, 60s pop culture references because Mars is behind the times, wayne is supportive but very annoying about it, Southern Eddie Munson, they have mcdonalds on mars for some reason but it sucks very much, borderline orgasmic fig eating experience, cyborg eddie kinda, a lot of lotion used as lube but at least their dick skins will be soft, Unprotected Sex, the inherent tragedy of being the only gay man on mars

Summary:

"A hiss as the speeder’s roof lifts and oh, Eddie knows this asshole. Rich boy, pretty as sin, heir to his daddy’s Earth imports business. Papa Harrington has the kind of monopoly there ought to be sanctions against, has his fist around the throats of most of New Indiana. And now here’s the prodigal son, slumming it in the dust of the Munson front yard. A man might get ideas with a thing like that, the kind involving ransoms and the wrong end of a raygun."

Thanks for the recs!

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[coolbeesbro]

There has to be some irony in my coming back from a pride event wearing a bunch of Aro/Ace flag stuff, just to sit down and draw explicit artwork for Patreon (stuff for Helluva NSFW Week on Bluesky June 22-28).

Like with every project I take on, it started off as 1 thing and branched off into a bunch of sequential art I did not plan for. All this to say, 7 drawings done, 6 more prompts to go. It was announced on my Patreon Page, but the polls for each day were finalized! Thank you to everyone who took the time to vote, you have been heard!

Day 1: Praise ✅

Day 2: Biting Kink

Day 3: Orgasm Denial

Day 4: Sensory Play

Day 5: In Heat

Day 6: Bondage

Day 7: Public Sex

[cowboywithacunt]

squirting advice: I do more often than I don't, the likelihood increases with each sequential orgasm, but it only happens if I'm hydrated. I find it easiest with both internal and external stimulation.

Everyone telling me to just cum over and over is very appreciated but also very funny.

[stress-toy-bunny]

2. First time masturbating?

55. What’s your breast size?

68. How many orgasms can you have in a day?

76. Ever used something that isn’t made for sex in the bedroom?

2. First time masturbating? - I imagine it's around the same time most people start 😋 Puberty is a hell of a drug, but I will tell you all, the first time I orgasmed, it was by accident (it was a surprise to me! Not that it stopped me from doing it again...and again....and ag-)

55. What’s your breast size? - The girls are still growing, and be warned I can't make a proper measurement, but they are good handfuls each, and maybe if everyone helps stimulate them, they can continue to grow 🥰

68. How many orgasms can you have in a day? - In theory, several. However I have yet to be put in a position to do so, as that will definitely require some....assistance (and possibly some rope). Peak solo time I've managed 3 sequentially, but that was a bit of a struggle

76. Ever used something that isn’t made for sex in the bedroom? - does vaseline hand lotion count? That one might be a bit too ubiquitous, most of what I use is, shall we say, purpose made (I did stick a pen up my ass once tho... 🙃)

[readingbibooks]

“Thinking inductively, synthetically - taking into account my thousands of varied dreams, fantasies, erections, and orgasms, and the genders of my various friends, tricks, and lovers over the years, and the several identities and life-styles I have sequentially or simultaneously adopted - I find that only ‘bisexual’ (or, affectionately, ‘bi’) describes accurately and succinctly both my past history and my present way of life.”

- Michael S. Montgomery, Bisexual Horizons: Politics, Histories, Lives

[refairy]

I would let Peter ruin my orgasm 😪

Let’s face it, Peter Parker has a serious fixation. It’s becoming a real problem at this point. He pretends that he can’t help ruining your orgasms because he thinks your pussy is the prettiest when it’s cumming and he desperately wants to see it without anything obscuring the way including his own fingers.

He’s fucking you so good, you’re babbling out nonsensical little noises, voice delving into a higher octave with your litanies of ‘m cummin’, Pete and so close’s as if he doesn’t know. As if he hasn’t spent an innumerable amount of time on the mechanisms of your body. He’s addicted to making your cute little cunt cream.

Peter knows damn well what it feels like when you’re close— your whole body tenses and like sequential clockwork, he suddenly pulls out and you belatedly register it with a loud whine that sends a jolt of heat into his lower stomach. Warmth permeates his cheeks, ears searing hot with embarrassment and heart pounding with anxiousness at the thought of being caught— oh no, you definitely know by now. You’re gonna be so mad at him.

As always his orgasm is staved off in favor of watching you; pinning you down with his hands on the undersides of your knees. You’re so open and exposed and you’re crying, trying to kick your legs out as he watches your pretty cunt spasm around nothing, he almost starts drooling.

His eyes are kitten-round as he simulates innocence, settling his hands to calm your trembling thighs.

“You- you’re- fuck! You’re doing it on purpose! I hate you! I hate you!” There are fresh baby’s-breath tears brimming over your lower lash line accompanied with your accusatory glare.

His lips twitch imperceptibly, any anxieties from earlier disregarded now that he’s been figured out. He knows you don’t mean it and that’s why he can’t help the infinitesimal movement of his mouth; you just look so cute and he’s still so hard.

Peter tries for a guilty smile but it comes out without a glimpse of remorse between marmoreal teeth. He’s looking at you with moonstruck eyes, thumbs swiping under your rheumy eyes. “Shh, shh. It’s okay. I’ll make it up to you.”

[  share your spider-man / peter parker thirsts 💌.  ]

[solivar]

From the Annals of Unnatural Causes

Since today is Dr. Kieran Terrance Corben's birthday, I thought I would repost this snippet from 2012: Best Ever/While You Were Sleeping. Rated M for consensual sexy funtimes and supernatural violence, though not at the same time.

The evening clerk at the B&B caught his eye as they walked in, still slightly damp and smelling of sea salt, ylang-ylang, and sandalwood, exuding a certain unmistakable aura of freshly pampered. He nodded and, twenty minutes later, once they'd had the chance to change out of the clothes they'd been wearing all day and into something slouchier and softer (horrifying tie-dyed pants and that ancient, shapeless Grateful Dead tee-shirt for Terry, a pair of his surviving University of Washington sweatpants and an equally shapeless plain black tee for himself), a knock on the door heralded the arrival of a room service caddy containing a bottle of nicely chilled sparkling cider, two glasses, a tiny box of rose-scented cloth petals, and a platter of assorted sugary delights, which the clerk passed to him with a whispered, “Good luck!”

Nate was not entirely certain exactly how everyone, including apparently random strangers and hotel employees, knew he was utterly hopeless at the relationship starting thing, but it was beginning to become rather alarming.

Terry, bless his black little heart, was making things easy. Instead of turning on all the lights in their little semi-suite, he had purred in his own ineffable way over the gas fireplace and turned it on, snuggling down on the loveseat in front of it and laying his head on the cushioned back, his eyes closed. He looked about as boneless as it was possible for a healthy adult human not suffering from some atrocious degenerative spinal condition to be and didn't even open his eyes when Nate breezed past behind him, tray in hand, and set it on the coffee table. He did respond to the popping of the cork, however, lifting his head and blinking in the firelight, as Nate poured two champagne flutes of non-alcohol and handed him one.

“Well now,” Terry grinned and took a tiny sip, and grinned some more. “Living dangerously tonight, Dr. Harada.”

“The circumstances seemed to warrant it.” Nate grinned back and seated himself in one of the nicely padded chairs set directly off the side of the loveseat, extending his glass for a toast. “To your birthday, Dr. Corben. May you see many, many more.”

Terry made their glasses go ting and drank to his own honor. “What goodies did they bring us to help celebrate this most natal of days?”

“...Was that a pun? That was a pun. I should have thought of that first.” Nate laid out the provender: the tiny box of very delicious and very expensive Belgian chocolates, the plate of assorted fun-sized fruit tarts that he knew from past experience that Terry loved, the plate of cheese and grapes and little savory-sweet flatbreads. “And you should drink some more. Right now.”

“Right now?” Terry offered his half-empty glass for a refill and no meaningful argument. 

“Yes. Massage is wonderfully relaxing but you're going to be intensely thirsty in about an hour.” He provided the refill and a plate of goodies. “And fortunately there's supposed to be water in the suite fridge.” 

“But no sylphs clad in diaphanous tunics to feed me grapes and chocolates. Alas.” He made a comedically tragic face and fed himself one of each, sequentially, the tragedy transforming into bliss. “Wow.”

“I'm sorry about the sylphs, they wanted twice the going union rate to come out in diaphanous anything in October.” Nate considered the platter, found his stomach entirely too knotted up to cooperate with casual fine dining, and settled back in his chair. “So...enjoying your birthday?”

“Best. Birthday. Ever.” Terry bit into another chocolate and made a face that could be legitimately described as orgasmic.

“Really? Ever? Bear in mind that I've been to your family's vacation house and I'm finding that a little hard to believe.” 

“Oh, my friend. You have no idea. My parents' idea of a fun and relaxing birthday celebration is dinner at a three-star restaurant or possibly some fustily exclusive country club – black tie all the way, of course – and attended by somewhere between fifteen and fifty of their closest friends and associates, followed by a stimulating evening of cultural enrichment at the symphony or the opera or some gala art show opening. I mean, I enjoy the occasional art gallery or museum, but I usually prefer not to be one of the objects on display. And there is literally no such thing as a non-tragic opera. I don't care what anyone says. Aida. On my birthday. Really.” He contemplated the chocolate held daintily between his thumb and forefinger. “Whereas this is one of the best things I have ever voluntarily put into my mouth, and it comes following a day full of enjoyable things undertaken with a person that I actually know and like.”

“There are comedic operas,” Nate felt compelled to point out and desperately hoped he wasn't blushing as visibly as he thought. And the glass wasn't really big enough to hide behind, dammit.

“No. No, there are not.” Terry sat up a little straighter and grinned easily at him. “And this is one of the best days ever. And best things. Seriously, you have to taste this. We're talking angel kisses and kitten love, here.”

“I got those for you – “

“And I'm choosing to share them. Open your mouth, Nate.”

They were, Nate had to admit, exceptionally good chocolates. Terry's blue eyes did that little dancing with glee thing they did at his own theobromine-fueled O-face. “And I swear that they get worse every year. Much, much worse now that...” He paused, took a breath, and managed a half-smile. “Now that I'm single again. I think my Mom managed to find an unmarried Vanderbilt relation to throw at me, she was so crushed that I didn't want to come to Scotland with them for my birthday. Or possibly an unmarried countess.”

Nate managed not to choke on his mouthful of bliss. “...Why a Vanderbilt?”

“My Mom has always wanted to be able to say that she's related to the Vanderbilts. I have no idea why, it's just a thing with her.” Terry shook his head mournfully. “But I suppose that's still slightly better than having the lifelong ambition to be related to the Kennedys. But! I am not going to digress into a diatribe about the insanity of my parents today. Today I am going to revel in the glory that is.”

“I guess I'm sort of lucky that way – my grandparents always let me pick what I wanted to do on my birthday.” Nate firmly decided that he was not going to make any sort of inquiries about potential Vanderbilt in-laws, no sir and no way, and drained his glass, wishing that its contents might have been a tiny bit more alcoholic. 

“Not your Dad?” Terry handed him a plate of grapes and chocolate.

“Sometimes. He was home with me during the school year so he had to travel on business quite a lot during the summer months – he always called, at least. And sent plenty of cool presents.” He grinned, remembering the more than a little squashed boxes of summer festival sweets and painted carp kites that had arrived over the years. “I had a few cousins close to my own age that visited Granny Hanako and Grandpa Toshiaki for a couple weeks every summer, so we usually ended up having fun.”

“That sounds nice – most of our cousins were a lot older than us, and we traveled so much we were almost never in the same place for more than a birthday or two. It was usually just Rob and Mal and I when it came to friends.” Terry looked him dead in the eye with an air of utter seriousness. “And, believe it or not, my brothers were insufferable goobers when they were kids. Age has definitely improved them.”

Nate managed not to choke to death on a grape. “Goobers.”

“That is what I said.”

“Goobers.”

“It is a finely descriptive and entirely accurate term. They started out the worst brothers anyone could possibly want to have – Rob was was six different kinds of popular everywhere we went and was embarrassed to admit that he was related to us for most of our childhood and Mal was the sort of annoying kid brother that invariably found the older kids on base stealing his underwear and running it up the school flagpole. Then, at some point after we all went to high school or college, everyone became a couple orders of magnitude more tolerable.” Terry sipped meditatively at his cider.

“'We looked around and suddenly we were all grown up'.”

“Yeah, like that. More or less.” Terry's eyes danced again. “Though I'm pretty sure Mal still gets his unders run up the flagpole on occasion.”

Nate snickered helplessly and Terry laughed and for a time they lapsed into a comfortable sort of silence – Nate's stomach unknotted enough to actually enjoy what he was putting into it. “So, what's the best birthday present you've ever gotten? Before today that is.”

Terry accepted a refilled glass and, after a meditative moment, announced, “Haggis.”

“....Seriously?”

“Okay, not the haggis itself. That was pretty nasty and required half a bottle of HP sauce just to get past the texture and I'm pretty sure it's the reason that I can't stand the taste of liver to this day.” He sat down his plate, the better to talk with at least one hand. “Making it, however, was my first real lesson in cooking – my grandmother's housekeeper, Mrs. Carmody, caught me lurking around the kitchen being surly and antisocial and put me to work. Granny wanted a Burns supper and didn't feel like waiting until January to get it – and so I found myself sitting in front of a cutting board covered in freshly boiled sheep innards that I was allowed to chop to my heart's content and serve to my brothers without even a whiskey chaser to soften the blow.” He grinned in fond reminiscence. “Next week she taught me how to make poor man's beef Wellington. I think I'm always going to miss that woman.”

“I know you've said that you were a terrible thirteen year old before, but I seriously cannot imagine you being surly. Or antisocial for that matter.” Nate shook his head.

“Well. Thirteen was sort of peak terrible teens for me.” Terry's smile went crooked again. “You?”

“I'm reasonably certain that I was the most mopily wangst-driven seventeen year old on the face of the Earth.”

“Seventeen has never treated anyone well but, in this case, I was asking about your favorite birthday present.”

“Oh!” Nate physically repressed the urge to facepalm. “Oh, man. I had so many nice things as a kid – it was just my Dad and I for the longest time and he spoiled me absolutely rotten when it came to toys that I wanted. But the very best, most what the fuck thing? A beer stein.”

Terry's eyebrow migrated toward his hairline. “You don't drink.”

“No, I do not. I have never drunk, not since my doctors told my Dad I would likely be sensitive to sulfates my whole life.” Nate refilled his own glass for emphasis. “Nonetheless, on my twenty-first birthday, Dad was in Germany on business and sent me a beer stein to celebrate that particular socio-cultural milestone. And not just any beer stein, mind you – it wasn't one of those cheap touristy things. It's made from hardened waxed leather, banded in horn and polished wood, and covered in this really fancy decorative carved leather work. Yggdrasil and Nidhogg. Oh, and it's the length of my freaking arm, so I'm assuming that it was probably a beer stein intended for use by a frost giant.” 

“I so need to meet your father one day.” Terry accepted a refill of his own. “Where is it? I'm pretty sure I would have noticed a frost giant beer stein in your apartment.”

“Granny Hanako uses it for extra large sized flower arrangements.”

“I need to actually meet your grandmother one day, too. I know!” Terry smiled a bright eyed smile of impending trauma. “We'll go to Oregon for your birthday this year. Clear you calendar, Dr. Harada.”

“I'm pretty sure she's already half in love with you, so a meeting couldn't hurt. If I put in for it now, I might even get the time off.” Nate smiled wryly. “Be warned, my grandmother will probably try to hook you up with one of my unmarried cousins. She apparently doesn't have enough grandchildren yet.”

“She can't possibly be more rabidly baby-bit than my own mother, I assure you. One granddaughter and suddenly she can hear her biological clock ticking again. Of course,” He had that dance in his eyes again. “You could always introduce me as your boyfriend, which would – “

Fifteen minutes later, once he'd stopped coughing all the cider out of his lungs with the aid of a few solid whacks and some therapeutic rubbing between the shoulder blades, Nate managed to croak out, “Well, yeah. Okay, that might work as a means of discouraging the cousin-throwing.”

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, well, nearly kill you.” Terry looked quite sincerely contrite which, for some reason, made Nate feel utterly wretched. 

“Not your fault. It's – It just surprised me. I – “ Nate stopped, realized he had no idea how he wanted to start that sentence, much less finish it, and soldiered on. “We're a pair, aren't we? Your folks want you to hurry up and get over that whole tragically widowered at a traumatically young age thing  and get on with the remarrying and making more grandchildren. And my folks want any option that renders me something other than a creepy recluse whose only close friends are corpses and case files.”

“Amazing, isn't it, how what you want to do with your life never seems to enter into it, even when you're all grown up?” There was a more than trace element of bitterness in Terry's voice.

“Astonishing.” Nate reached for the bottle with hands that were considerably less steady than they'd been a few minutes before, and poured for them both with exaggerated care. “Do you...want to be married again?” 

Terry accepted the glass but didn't drink, turning it slowly between his hands as he found sudden, passionate interest in the patterns of firelight on the carpet. “Someday. With the right person.”

“Ah.” Nate took a quick breath and found that not entirely sufficient to dispel the sudden, strangling tightness in his chest. 

“Which isn't to say 'never' but – “ Terry flashed him one of those quick, fantastically bright smiles. “Nate? Are you okay?”

“Fine. I'm fine. Really.” From somewhere, he dredged up the artful approximation of a smile.

Terry was Not Going For It, and Nate felt a little twinge of alarm in his gut joining the torturous cardiac contortions making themselves known in his chest. “What about you?” Softly.

Oh please don't DO that. Don't ASK that. Too late, he'd asked. “You've probably noticed that I suck with an audible sucking sound at that whole 'having a relationship' thing.”

“I don't know – I think we've got a pretty good relationship going on right here.” Terry inclined a single questioning brow and Nate wanted to sink through the floor.

“Friends. I'm good at being friends. Not so great at everything else.” He put down his glass and stood, rubbing his suddenly damp palms on the legs of his sweats. “In fact, I'm really epically terrible at everything else. I'm fairly sure that Rin's kids are going to be the ones picking out my nursing home.”

All the nervous energy suddenly bubbling out of where it had lain in wait for just this moment forced his legs to move, one stride, then two, and a few heartbeats later he was looking out the doors opening on the balcony, which itself overlooked the garden, at the moment a basically amorphous glob of wind-blown foliage in the night. Terry stayed where he was, which didn't help at all because Nate could feel the weight of his gaze, that intensely earnest blue-eyed look that belonged to a man who helped people cope with their emotional fuckedupedness for a living.

Whatever made me think this was a good idea? “Have I ever told you about my last...relationship-shaped...thing?” Nate heard the words emerging from his mouth with the sort of dull, disconnected horror he usually associated with dreams of walking into work naked.

“A little bit.” Oh so calmly neutral and Nate wondered, briefly, if throwing himself off the balcony would be enough to kill him or just hurt really badly. They probably weren't high enough up to make it totally painless unless he landed just right on his head. “Mostly that it ended really badly. Also that your ex is a colossal dick, which is a sentiment I can fully empathize with. I've got some exes that could only be improved via gravity slingshot into the photosphere of the sun.”

“Yeah...that would more or less describe it.” With massive reluctance, he turned around, but couldn't make himself pace back, leaning against the decorative door molding in case his legs decided to get all wobbly on him, which was looking like a distinct and unfortunate possibility. “I mean, don't get me wrong. It's not like that with everyone I used to – used to date or see or however you want to put it. I'm still friends with both the people I went out with in high school – Christmas cards and everything! But those weren't what you'd call relationship relationships, either. We were just doing the stuff that teenagers do, movies and pizza and necking in the backseat of somebody's first car and it wasn't really...serious emotional involvement. We liked each other but it wasn't...”

He absolutely could not say what he was thinking and look at Terry at the same time. He took a shaky breath and looked back out the window. “Like I said, I do friends really well. Sometimes even friends with benefits if it's the right friend. But I'm – I can't – “

“Nate.” Softly.

“I'm really bad at making other people happy. At even really knowing what would make someone happy. Long-term happy, I mean. Short term happy is easy – that's just basic paying attention and contingency planning. The rest? That's...beyond me. Totally beyond me, even when I try and I've really tried, I promise you that. But...trying isn't enough. It's just not.” He closed his eyes against the prickle of completely and utterly embarrassing tears and he was not going to start crying in front of Terry on his freaking birthday. “We...do have a good relationship going on here. A wonderful relationship. You're the best...the best friend I've had in years. And I...don't want to do anything...I don't want to say anything that would screw that up.”

“What makes you think you could?” Again, so very softly.

“Because I always do. Always. I say something or I do something – or I don't say something or don't do something – and that's it. Over. And I don't – want this to be over.” Darwin's fucking finches, he was, in fact, almost in tears. A head-first dive at the hydrangea bushes was starting to look better and better.

“Well, that's good.” Terry had obviously taken some stealthy like ninja classes at some point in his education because he very simply materialized right there next to him, leaning against the locked balcony doors in a manner that suggested he knew exactly what Nate was thinking just then and believed an intervention might be in order. Hell, he might – Terry was scarily good at that sort of thing. “Because I don't particularly want this to be over, either. Why might it be over, Nate?”

“Because I think I'm in love with you. Seriously, completely, emotionally involved with love for you and you – you're – my friend.” Was that his out loud voice? It was. He had said that out loud. “You're my friend and I'm in love with you and I always screw up being in love, I can't do it right, and can we just pretend I never said anything? Please? Please? Let's just...stay friends and be friends because I don't want this to end.”

Far, far too out loud for that, in all likelihood, and he buried his face in his hand before he could complete his self-actualized utter and abject humiliation by crying on top of everything else. He almost jumped out of his skin when Terry's hand closed around his wrist and pulled his hand down and he was totally crying right there in front of him and Terry was, he could not help but notice, smiling. And his eyes were dancing. 

“Nate, what if I told you that I don't want to be just friends?”

Nate took a shocked, gulped-in breath that came back out as something close to, “Oh?”

Not really a question, per se, or any other sort of sensible response because that was all it took for Terry to step in close and pull him closer and he tasted like chocolate and cider and Nate's mind temporarily shut down in self-defense as his back came to rest against the nearest wall. When his brain finished rebooting he was mildly astonished to discover that he wasn't experiencing a post traumatic relationship-related hallucination, that Terry's hands were really resting on his hips and Terry's soft, warm lips were really gently brushing his own, and his own hands were clinging helplessly to Terry's shoulders. When they parted, it was with an audible little moan of dismay on his own part and a sigh on Terry's. He swayed away from the wall at the gentle tug on his hips and into the warmth of Terry's body, burying his still-wet face against the junction of his neck and shoulder, Terry's hand against the small of his back, stroking his hair.

“In my personal experience,” Terry said quietly, “being friends isn't fundamentally incompatible with being lovers. Pretty much the opposite, in fact. I've never loved someone I haven't liked first. And I like you. I've liked you since we first met, that weekend when we both volunteered to stay at the office and you brought Cards Against Humanity to keep everybody entertained. I started falling in love with you every time you got fire-spitting pissed or cried with someone's family or snarked at some asshole defense attorney or reporter. So many people lose themselves to the work we do – let it peel chunks of their humanity away and go numb because caring hurts too much. But you...don't do that. You care. You feel. And I love you. I love you for that. I love you for you. And I freely confess that I want to find the asshole who made you think that you weren't enough, weren't worthy of being loved just for who you are, and psychoanalyze the living holy fuck out of him.”

Nate laughed, helplessly, holding on tight, the sound coming out suspiciously like a sob, and if anything Terry held him closer. 

“So no,” Terry's hand climbed up between his shoulder blades. “This isn't going to be over. Not because of this. I've wanted this for so damned long now...”

Nate took a deep, shaky breath and looked up just as Terry was looking down and it only took a bit more effort to finish the motion and bring their lips together again, a little less soft this time, a little less gentle. Terry's hand tangled tighter in his hair and his tongue brushed against the curve of his lower lip and Nate whimpered helplessly and let it slip inside. Chocolate and cider, stronger than before, and under that Terry himself; sandalwood and almond oil and musk filled up his head and sent his heart pounding off at a thousand miles an hour. A sudden, convulsive movement on somebody's part brought their bodies even closer together – which Nate hadn't thought physically possible – and made it absolutely, blindingly clear that he wasn't alone in the blood flowing swiftly condition.

“Terry,” He gasped, when the kiss finally broke and their hips ground together again and it was all he could do to keep his knees steady against the rush of pleasure this provoked, “we should probably get away from the window.”

“...Good idea.”

Nate wasn't quite sure who actually started the backwards motion away from the window and toward the fireplace and its cosy little sitting area – there was too much going on with hands and mouths and the head-spinning rush of having someone touching him with genuine desire again. Terry's hands were under his shirt, fingers spread wide across his skin, and then his shirt was over his head and the loveseat was behind his knees and they were tangled together, Terry's weight on his lap pressing him into the cushions and both their bodies together. Terry started working his way south, becoming distracted en route with the apparently irresistible allure of his neck and chest and collarbones and the delight to be found in licking and sucking and kissing and covering all of the above in a necklace of bites and Nate took advantage long enough to rid him of his own shirt, placing all that ink adorning Terry's shoulders at the tips of his fingers, and the tip of his tongue, happy to explore. A surprisingly back-arching, breath-catching, desperate writhing and moaning exploration, to be sure, Terry half trying to get away and half trying to get even closer, as though those tattoos were the most severely erogenous zone ever applied to any living creature on the face of the Earth, just waiting for human contact to set them on fire. 

“Nate,” It was easily the most desperate thing he'd ever heard in his whole life, Terry's voice at that moment, and the way their bodies ground together and then everything went a little sideways.

The rush of it came over him so suddenly he almost didn't have a chance to yelp a warning, his head going light and prickles of warmth running all the way up his body and his own spine bending at a rather acute angle. Terry blinked down at him, half startled and half dazed with lust, and he found himself blushing furiously.

“Sorry,” He croaked, fighting the urge to sink through the floor again. “It's been a long time. A really long time. And you're just so...so...Yeah.”

“Oh, Nate. Don't be sorry. I'm an idiot.” Terry kissed him, gently, and climbed off, helping lever him to his feet.

“No you're not. Stop it. Shut up.” He slithered out of the rest of his clothes and used the first available piece of clothing – that ancient Grateful Dead tee, so very appropriate – to sponge off a bit. “Get on the bed.”

The look on his face was not a single conclusive expression so much as a collision of emotional reactions, none of which resulted in an immediate response to what Nate felt was an extremely reasonable request. With a sigh, he grabbed the loosely knotted tie of Terry's horrific pants, pulled it loose and them down in a single smooth motion. He wasn't wearing underwear. Which explained a few things, actually, and he blushed gorgeously, and Nate took him firmly in hand on the way to the very nice King-sized bed with the mountain of pillows and goose down coverlets. Those tattoos and their erotic possibilities really required a more thorough and comprehensive examination, especially since just running his fingers over them  caused Terry to shudder and whimper and beg for more. Especially the ones wrapped in serpentine coils around the base of his spine and the delicious indentation of his navel and slender curve of his hips and the long muscles of his thighs. Milk white skin and a dusting of pale freckles and fine coppery hair, looped with jet ink, and he wanted to touch it all, kiss him, lick him, make those hungry noises of pleasure come out of his mouth. And that was, he was willing to admit very quietly to himself, something he was good at. One of Terry's hands found its way into his hair, gripping almost painfully tight and that was wonderful, almost as wonderful as the taste and smell of him, salty and musky and so very good. He couldn't keep his hips still for even a minute, between Nate's mouth and his hands spread over his hips and over his thighs, stroking and sliding and finding all the places that made those long, shuddering moans flow up his throat. The sound he made at the end was the sweetest thing Nate had heard in years, a helpless little mewl of ecstasy, and then his back arched and his hips tensed and Nate drank him down, milking him until there was nothing left to taste.

Terry's eyes fluttered open again as he settled down in the pillows next to him, running a hand through the fine dusting of coppery hair on his chest, a fingertip over the curling spiral of ink ringing one pebbly nipple. His eyes nearly rolled back in his head again and he reached up to capture that hand, holding it flat in place while he caught his breath. Nate leaned up and kissed him long and slow, nibbling a lip, sucking languorously on his tongue, and when they parted, Terry whispered, “You don't have any idea what you do to me, do you?”

“I think I can guess.” Nate smiled wryly and lay back in the pillows, tangling sweat-soaked red hair in his fingers, curly and imminently pettable.

Terry arched his head into the stroking and rolled onto his side, nuzzling gently at Nate's neck again, which apparently hadn't gotten quite enough attention or visible marks of possession just yet. “I feel that I have somehow fallen down on my half the deal here...”

“It's your birthday.” Nate pointed out, and kissed him again – and abruptly found himself pinned down in the pillows as Terry rolled a long leg over him and hoisted himself somewhat unsteadily astride.

“True, it is. And I freely confess, I've always been the sort to indulge in giving myself presents.” He rocked back and Nate arched helplessly himself as his body responded to the heat and friction and sweet sweatiness of it all, already more than half-stirred, and came all the way back to life. “Do we have any lube?”

Nate swallowed with some difficulty around the constriction of his throat and the sounds trying to crawl out of it occasioned by the teasing circular motions of Terry's goddamned wanton hips, croaking out, “Beside the table.”

Terry crawled to the edge and fished around in the little toiletries bag that Nate had almost decided not to bring coming back with a bottle and a little foil wrapped square and a gentle, nipping kiss. “Thank all the gods you didn't get that self-warming crap. It's awful.”

He poured out a generous dollop and massaged it between his hands, smiling the sort of lazy cat smile that made Nate acutely nervous in most situations but in this one seemed strangely exciting instead. “Close your eyes.”

He did so and was rewarded a moment later by the sensation of Terry's warm, slick hand cupping him, fingertips painting teasing circles in water soluble lubricants and it was all he could do not to whimper. Foil tore. Terry made a low sound in the back of his own throat and, an instant later, his grip shifted, sliding Nate's length from tip to root, once, twice, and his eyes flew open in shock as Terry's position shifted higher. He rocked down, slowly, and Nate's hips bucked as he was enveloped in smooth, slick heat, an inarticulate moan escaping him at the sensation and the sight of Terry taking him in, hands braced on his own thighs, back arched with the pleasure traveling all the way up his spine. Terry laughed, breathless, at the look on his face and rocked his hips and then all chance of actually saying or doing anything went utterly away and all he could do was hold on, catching hold of the curve of his hips and rocking up to meet him, their bodies moving together in a rhythm as old as blood pulsing and breath rushing and it was very simply too good, too right, too perfect. Every nerve in his body sang with how perfect it was, to please and be pleasured by this man, to love him and be loved by him, to know he'd give every drop of his blood and his every breath just to see that smile and those dancing blue eyes, hear that voice and hold that body, knowing it was the house a beautiful soul lived in. His head went white with it and his body went light and he let himself fall into it without a fight, let those wanton noises come out of his mouth, drank Terry's moans, and allowed the pleasure to drag him down into a warm and flawless darkness.

He wasn't sure how long he floated there in the tenebrous warmth inside his own mind, his own body, but it was still dark in the room when he woke, firelight casting shadows on the walls, Terry's warm weight pillowed against him, still trembling and breathing raggedly. He wrapped his arms around his lover's body, ran a hand through the sweat painting his back, curled into the curvature of his arms. 

Terry lifted his head and kissed him long and slow and sweetly. “Best. Ever.”

***

Kieran had, on the occasion of their first time sleeping together, expected Nate to look younger at rest than he did while awake. He had the face and build for it – a solid foot across the line that separated beautiful from handsome, as long and lean and wiry as a man a good ten years his junior. To his very great surprise, that had not at all been the case. The tension never seemed to leave the line of his neck and spine and shoulders, not even at rest – he seemed, even then, to be bracing himself, tightening up to take a hit, or else picking himself up from one. Even at his most bonelessly relaxed, curled up next to him by the warm glow of the firepit with the Orinids falling just beyond the shadow of the trees overhead, he wasn't genuinely at peace.

He was now.

Beneath his hand, Nate's back was one smooth line of bone and muscle and almost impossibly soft skin, still gently scented with massage oil and sea salt and more recently with sweat. His head lay pillowed on Kieran's shoulder, one long arm laying sleepily possessive across his stomach, their legs welded together from hip to knee. His hair was damp with sweat and his lashes were sooty shadows above his still gently flushed cheeks and his mouth was full and lush and kiss-bitten and through all the places they were still in contact, Kieran could feel the echoes of pleasure still ringing through all the places in his mind and soul that he usually kept locked up tight. Pleasure and more than pleasure. Exultation. His heart was singing with it.

And not alone. He pressed a kiss to Nate's temple and shivered slightly as, even asleep, he responded, squeezing the last microns of space from between their bodies, his arm curling up over his chest, sending a frisson of pleasure that echoed through them both, from the roots of his hair to the tips of his toes. A slow stroke the length of his spine made those ridiculously long lashes flutter, brought a noise past his lips that was half moan and half plea and more erotic than either sound alone. 

Beautiful, the thought crawled through Kieran's head, along with shared and tangled and mutual ecstasy still humming in every nerve and inch of skin, the heart-song and heart fullness and gentle wash and curl of emotion twining together. So beautiful precious wonderful mine. My own. Belonging to me.

He had not thought – had never really allowed himself to think – that he would ever be this happy again. And yet here he was, with his beloved and his heart's-ease laying warm and safe in his arms. Nate's breathing deepened as he fell further into sleep. Rain drummed slow and steady against the roof, a breath of cool air finding its way through the seams of the window casements. Against the far wall, the shadows cast by the fireplace joined and parted and joined again.

He wasn't quite certain how long he slept but when he woke it was immediately and all at once – without the slightest trace of disorientation and with every nerve ringing like the strings of a harp struck by a two year old. 

Something ghosted across the edges of his awareness, something swift and subtle, flirting with the warded boundary he'd built around the perimeter of the building when they'd checked in earlier. Powdered silver and salt and more than a trace of his own blood, that not even the rain could wash away – not that it was raining now. The only sound from outside was the wind, rushing through the trees with a roar not unlike a stream in full flood.

...witchthing...

It curled through him, through his mind and soul, like the first breath of winter, ran needles of ice deep into his gut. Next to him, Nate stirred in his sleep, responding to his own sudden tension, and he bent and soothed him back down with a kiss and a comforting murmur and a quiet inner caress. Slowly, carefully, he eased out from under Nate's arm, rested his head on his own warm pillow and drew the covers up over him – even with the fireplace, the room was cool and damp now, though how much of that was psychic chill and how much was the weather blowing through he couldn't quite tell. He found the clothes they'd discarded earlier, dressed swiftly and silently, opening the inner ward he'd forged around the suite itself barely a sliver and closed it tight behind him as he went.

Outside, the wind nearly clawed the loggia door out of his hand, storm-front strong and breath-stealingly cold, the roar of it in the trees easily drowning out any other natural sounds. But not the unnatural ones. The scrape of claws across densely patterned defensive energies, looking for some weakness it could make or exploit in the weave. Inarticulate gutturals and hissed sibilants, filled with rage and frustration and no small amount of pain. Morpheus was certain that he'd hurt it badly and the confirmation gave him a coldly happy grin as he started off across the vast expanse of beautifully manicured lawn in the direction of the equally manicured garden. He felt it sense him in motion, felt it catch his scent – and more, Nate's essence mingled with his own in the most intimate of ways, the quarry it had always been hunting. Felt it peel away from the house and begin limp-loping after him, low to the ground and more invisible than not, but far, far less sleek and strong and fast than it had been. Felt it gather itself in long, leaping strides and launch itself at his back, forelimbs stretching into scythes, smooth, serpentine head splitting into a muzzle lined in razor-fine needles – and slam face-first into the already active first line of his personal wards, the defenses it had bypassed practically without effort weeks before, filaments of power flaring into eye-searing visibility brighter than a stroke of lightning. It limned the creature's shifting-twisting body as it writhed in the net of the wards' power, seeking the shape that would let it escape, or at least break the circuit of punishing energies connecting them.

Kieran called them back down before the thing could find it, pulling the net of his protections in – not quite skin-close but near to it. The creature landed in an ungraceful, mostly-visible sprawl in the muddy, leaf-strewn lawn, form flickering as it struggled to hide itself again. He shook a gently chastising finger at it. “Now. Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, and a thousand generations of my ancestors will rise from the grave specifically to kick my ass for embarrassing them that way.”

Clever witchthing, It keened at him, form losing visible definition even as he watched, springing away to try to circle him again, hoping to shake his perception. Should have eaten your heart when I had it in my claws. 

“Yes, you probably should have.” He replied, mock-commiserative. “But since you didn't...? Well, sucks to be you.”

He broke for the garden at a sprint, skidding on mud and wet grass and leaves as he went, the creature howling rage and hate and hunger at a pitch inaudible to human ears – human minds were another story – and leaping after him in ground-eating strides. He hit the entrance to the boxwood hedge before it could reach him and slid into the maze with his feet barely under him, skinning his palm on the field stone pylon marking the entrance as he grabbed it and took the corner at a dead run. Behind him, expensively cultivated and embellished greenery snapped and tore and he couldn't help wincing a bit because it was a very nice garden and he genuinely felt somewhat bad about wrecking it – but he rather suspected that the house was not really an ideal alternative venue for this sort of thing. His Eye snapped open and the path he'd traced earlier in argent and crimson and white leapt out at him, a shimmering thread in the otherwise absolute darkness. He held the wards tight around him, masking his presence as best he could at the cost of losing his finer sense of where the creature might be at any given moment – it hardly mattered, since it would chase him down no matter what, in order to get at what it really wanted.

Clever witchthing, the thing's soundless voice curled across the surface of his mind. Feeding the halfthing its magic. Cleverclever. Will like eating your heart.

He clamped down hard on the urge to taunt back – it was too close, would be on him too fast, for that to have the desired effect. 

Smell the halfthing onyouinyou, the sensation that accompanied those words churned his stomach in spite of himself, grotesque and vile and obscene, knew you would have liked helping with him, witchthing. Too bad.

The creature slammed into him from above, claws briefly finding purchase in his shoulder before the wards could engage, flung away before they could bite deep or cause serious harm, the recoil of energies slamming him into the ground and the creature through a few layers of hedge. He fought for air and staggered back to his feet – the center of the maze was only a few more turns away – the creature howling and thrashing and coiling in on itself in agony.

The center of the maze, the hotel's brochure had informed him on the way in from the city, was marked by a spectacular display of seasonal flowers. It really was impressive when he'd visited earlier, all Japanese anemone and monkshood and helenium and autumn crocuses, arranged in an inwardly curling spiral of color and perfume. The wind hadn't done it any favors and neither had the rain and neither were his feet as he ran across it, coming to a halt at the innermost point of the whorl of vegetation, the creature crashing through the final border of the hedge only a few breaths behind. He stopped, breathed, and his wards flowed out around him again, forcing the creature back a pace or two, its form flickering briefly more visible as it snapped and growled, its eyes lambent in the dark.

Witchthing, a purr. Should have stayed inside.

Overhead, the wind finished shredding the last of the cloud cover. The moon, full as it had been on the night of his birth, spilled her radiance across the vault of the heavens, bright enough that it washed the color out of even the stars, and cast hundreds, thousands of tiny, sharp-edged shadows across the parterre stones of the garden. Cast his own shadow across the creature, lending its shape a form and solidity that it otherwise lacked.

“Well – one of us should have.”

The creature shrieked, a hideous psychic ululation, as the shadows pierced it, wrapped around its throat and limbs in skeins of barbed darkness to bind it in place, deny it freedom of movement and shape, spears carved of night's own substance driving through its hide and setting its blood flowing. 

“I'm really thinking that was you.”

The creature's struggles slowly ceased, its shrieks dying away to desperate whines of distress, its eyes rolling in its head.

Witchthing witchthing –

Then, he heard it, beneath the creature's own voice.

Kagemasuta.

“Guilty as charged.” He smiled thinly. “Hellcaller.”

A hiss – a double hiss, one from the creature and one from the thing riding its senses, trying to force it to keep acting even as it died. Finally, finally died.

“I know you can see me. I know you can hear me.” Kieran replied, softly. “So I strongly advise you to listen to me now. He is under my protection. If you raise your hand against him again, I will find you and I will end you. And nothing – nothing you can do, not the Serpent, nothing in this world or beyond it – will save you.”

He spoke the word that released the shadows bound into his own flesh, the ward structure that held them quiet and quiescent folding in upon itself, and they reared out of him hungry. He almost felt sorry for the creature, and the human-shaped monster on the other end of it, but not for very long. It took longer, by far, to wrestle his personal darkness back under control, the sky beginning to go gray with false dawn and the creature little more than an unfortunately gooey blotch in the middle of the thoroughly wrecked hedge maze, though at least part of that could be explained away by the ferocity of the last night's storm. He did, however, make certain to scrape as many crushed flowers as he could off the bottom of his shoes, and take them off on the porch, before he padded upstairs to the room where his lover lay sleeping.

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

It would be fucking crazy if we found out all your Harry’s were written in sequential order like all your living ones were the supernatural ones before becoming supernatural and you paint these love stories like you do with anthrorry and make us fall in love with the relationship but his y/n turns out to be vampys neck-snapper. (But obviously she’s not because vampy is centuries old), but if anyone could make a couple appear extremely loveable to then give one of them a detrimental villain arc it’d be you lol.

THAT’D BE FUCKING CRAZYSBDJSJDNSJJSSJ tho I am a slut for a “the hero has been the villain all along” trope idk why it’s just sexy like the shift in the story and their personality after their significant other finds out…..orgasmic, methinks

But thank you I’m really touched you like my couples and my characters, I put a piece of my soul into every single one :’)

[fill-me-up-now]

Luggage girl challenge

After our holiday, the guys proposed a challenge to which the girls accepted.  Once we landed home, the girls were packed into the toilet with the guys and we were placed in our respective luggage. Plugged in with a vibrator and with my hands and legs bound together, I was stimulated on the bumpy car ride back. It was a long journey and I lost track of time, breaking out in perspiration and waves of slow torturing orgasms. When we reached our destination, I could feel the luggage moved around. I wanted to speak out, but my mouth was gagged. All I could hear was the moans from the other girls around me as they are in the same predicament. I could feel the intensity of the vibrator slowly increasing with time. Over some time, the girls sequentially started to thrash in their luggage, before being released by the guys. I began to understand the challenge as I tried to calm myself and enjoy the stimulation. 

Turns out the challenge was to find out who could last the longest. I did not know how long it was, but my luggage was opened. The guys told me that I was the last girl standing and they were worried something happened to me so they ended the challenge prematurely. My pussy was sore and I needed rest, but seeing that I was well and ok, they placed me back in and resumed the challenge for another hour, much to the group’s amazement at my stamina 

[dreamlover31]

Love Will Find a Way: Chapter 15

By early the next morning, Rafael and Alexa started their routine like normal, the usual quick shower and then tidying up the bedroom. Dressed in a pair of olive green cargo shorts, a black V-neck t-shirt and sandals, Rafael stepped downstairs then through the opened front door to start the parked SUV, as she strapped on her white sandals, Alexa heard the engine starting.

Before she walked out the door, she grabbed her small, white shoulder strap purse and then locked up, as soon as she climbed into the passenger seat; Rafael put the car in gear and drove down the hill onto the access road. Alexa inputted the address of their destination into the GPS while he concentrated on driving, it took less than 20 minutes for the two of them to reach the establishment, Rafael found a decent parking spot underneath a small oak tree next to a local park, once they exited the vehicle; the couple walked hand and hand towards the café.

As they reached the front of the building, Alexa was impressed by the décor, the outside was outlined with small wooden tables that had white table cloths draped over them, and chairs painted an elegant shade of white while the exterior of the small cottage like building was painted a light shade of blue and eggshell white, and above their heads; a sign that read the blue minnow café.

When they entered, Rafael approached the hostess and requested a table with a view, as she guided them towards it; Alexa was equally taken with the interior of the establishment. The same wooden tables spread out to most of the room with a couple of booths in the back, ceiling fans whirled above as the chatter of patrons echoed throughout. They arrived at their table and were sub sequentially seated, Rafael thanked the hostess as she informed them that a waiter would be with them shortly, before long they were left alone; at that instant Alexa turned her gaze outward to the beach.

The mile-long beach was occupied with families and people who came out for a day where they could escape from their daily lives, while she continued to look out at the enchanting landscape, Alexa could faintly hear in the distance the sound of children playing in the tide, as the cool gentle breeze blew at her hair; she became captivated by the sound of waves crashing and the sparkles of light that glittered across the ocean.

Alexa was so mesmerized at the beautiful sight that she did not realize that their waiter had come upon their table and asked for their drink orders, the muffled sound of his voice failed to grab her attention, it wasn’t until Rafael squeezed her hand that she broke out of her self-induced trance. She quickly turned to him then to the person in front of her and said:

“I’m sorry, I was lost in thought, what did you say?”

“I asked if either of you wanted anything to drink, your guy here ordered orange juice”

“Oh right, I’ll have an ice tea thank you”

“Alright you got it”

As the waiter took his leave, Alexa tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she looked over at Rafael, she lowered her eyes to conceal her embarrassment as his trademark smirk splayed across his face.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to space out like that”

“Don’t have to explain yourself to me”

“It’s so beautiful out here, I can see why Gladys’ cousin has a place out here”

“I hear you”

At that moment, the waiter arrived with their drinks, Rafael and Alexa took a few sips of their cold beverages, at the same time; the waiter scribbled on a notepad their individual food orders. Rafael asked for a burger and a small tray of fries and Alexa ordered a Caesar salad with a small plate of fruit, after he left the table, Rafael interlaced his fingers with hers all the while his emerald orbs stared into her dark brown eyes.

“On the way over here, I saw some nice little stores that could be worth checking out”

“Ok, when were done here, we’ll take in the sights and shop around”

She nodded, then at the corner of her eye, she saw their waiter with two plates in hand approach their table, after they received their orders; he asked if there was anything else he could get them, to which Alexa replied with a no thank you. Once their plates were cleared, Rafael signaled to their waiter that they were ready for the bill, after payment and tip were received, Rafael and Alexa gathered their things and departed from the café.

As the two of them walked hand and hand, the elegance and tranquility of the small town caught their attention in a way that spoke volumes, smiles beamed upon their faces as they saw people partake in various activities such as children squirting super soakers and couples cuddling up on park benches. Less than a mile down, they stopped in at the nearest boutique Alexa laid eyes upon, it was a quaint little clothing store that sold the latest in summer wear. As she browsed the racks and shelves, Alexa picked up a few items that peeked her interest, an ivory white sundress, a pair of dark blue skinny jeans and a crocheted shawl.

After she made her purchase, the two continued their path down the block to a few more local shops where she bought little trinkets to bring back for Gladys and the rest of the employees at the shelter. As the day wore on, they made it to the boardwalk that adjoined the beach below, they watched a few people roller blade down while others merely enjoyed the scenery. By the time they made it back to the SUV, the sun was starting to set, Alexa placed the shopping bags in the trunk; during which Rafael started the engine.

Once they were settled in, he carefully drove out of the parking space and into the flow of traffic, when they returned to the house; Alexa unpacked the trunk just as Rafael held the front door for her. She set some of the bags on top of the coffee table, then plopped down on the couch, a forearm covered her eyes as she let out a sigh; it was then that she felt the cushion shift. When she lifted her arm, her eyes peeped to the side where she saw that he joined her side.

He wrapped an arm around her as she leaned next to him.

“Wow what a day”

“I know; you must be exhausted”

Alexa mumbled as she burrowed her face into his chest, during that moment, Rafael kissed her forehead and said:

“How about I run you a bath?”

Alexa’s eyes looked up at him lovingly, she smiled a little while a gentle kiss pressed upon Rafael’s lips as she said to him:

“You spoil me you know that?”

“I know”

Rafael stood up from the couch and headed up the stairs to the master bedroom with Alexa trailing behind him, as they entered the bedroom, he went inside the neighboring bathroom. At that time, she changed out of her white maxi skirt and matching off the shoulder blouse, Rafael turned the faucet of the freestanding acrylic tub on, as the water rose, he lit up some of the scented candles that were placed around the area where the tub sat.

When the tub was half full, he took a small bottle of the lavender scented bath oil from the cabinet below the sink and poured a few drops into the water, he swirled the water to ensure it was the appropriate temperature, suddenly, the door suddenly creaked open. He turned around to see Alexa wearing a terry cloth robe and her hair pinned up in a messy bun, they exchanged matching smiles as she sauntered over to the tub.

Slowly, she untied the knot that held the robe, once it was loosened enough to hint at exposed skin; Alexa slithered her way out of the softened piece of fabric. As it pooled around her ankles, Rafael’s cheeks started to flush at the sight of his beloved’s naked form, while he helped her into the tub; he tried to suppress the bulge that was growing in his cargo shorts. Alexa smirked as she sat in the tub with her chin resting on top of her knees, Rafael picked up the bath sponge that rested on top of the shelf that sat across from the tub.

“Here let me get your back”

He dipped the sponge in the lukewarm water and squeezed it over her bare back, the droplets trickled down as he pressed it against her skin, she lets out soft moans as he stroked up and down. Next, he used the sponge to massage her shoulders, he leaned his body forward to where his lips reached her neck; he laid small sensual kisses along her neckline while her breathing became labored.

“Lift your leg up”

She complied as she placed both arms on the opposite sides of the tub for balance; he traced a line from her ankle all the way to her inner thigh, meanwhile, Alexa closed her eyes and tilted her head back. Her body responded to his delicate touch as the sponge was now replaced with his hand, as it floated in the water, Rafael slipped his hand between her legs.

Alexa gasped when one finger then two entered her throbbing womanhood, she gripped on to the sides of the tub at the same time his fingers moved and circled her inner walls, the water splashed around inside the tub as her body writhed and grinded against the acrylic texture of it. With each passing moment, her pleasure was building to the point where she was close to the edge.

“Ohhhh god Rafael, I’m so close”

“That’s it carino, come for me…come for papi”

As his fingers curled inside her, Alexa’s orgasm came at her fast and furious, the intensity was so great that she let out a howl rather than a scream. In due time, she came down from her post orgasmic haze; soon afterwards her breathing returned to a normal pace, she glanced over at Rafael and the two of them started laughing.

He hovered above her as she pulled him in for a deep and passionate kiss, after a moment, she gently eased him from her embrace. She returned to a sitting position as he grabbed a towel from the rack, he held out his hand then as she took hold of it, he helped her out of the tub; his eyes never left hers as he wrapped the towel around her. As they re-entered the bedroom, Alexa grabbed one of the shopping bags that he placed in the closet and pulled out a lacey white slip with a matching pair of panties, she put on the exotic piece of lingerie while Rafael stripped off his clothes and into a pair of silk black boxers.

While he placed himself under the covers, Alexa blew out the candles and drained the bath water, then upon turning off the lights, she slid next to Rafael in between the sheets. Ultimately, she decided to take a step further and straddle him, she placed both hands on his bare chest while his made their way to her hips; she bent down and peppered his face with soft tender kisses. He hummed in satisfaction as she nipped at his earlobe, she repositioned herself to where she could face him, as they looked at each other; Rafael grinned slyly and said:

“You up for round two?”

“Oh yeah”

Tagging: @madpanda75 @laceybellerain @southern-magnolia @tropes-and-tales @madamsnape921 @teamsladsandgents@karens-imagined-world @beccabarba @glimmerglittergirl @youreverycolor @thatesqcrush

[coeurdastronaute]

Kiwi 7

Previously on Kiwi

“Super casual, right?” 

“Definitely.” 

“Like booty calls?” 

“Sure.” 

“And perhaps phone calls and dates?” 

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Clarke grinned. 

“Cuddling and dinner?” 

“I could eat.” 

“What about doubles tennis partners?” 

“I have a wicked backhand.” 

“And sex?”

“Tons.” 

“Cool, just so we’re clear,” Lexa nodded and ran her hand up and down her bare stomach as she caught her breath. 

Not even three full days into the brand new year, and Lexa was certain she’d already come up with her list of resolutions and majority of them included the perfect stranger she met on a dating app. Beside her, in her own bed, Clarke hummed and shifted her hips, still coming down from a fairly wonderful high. Outside the night crept in over the city so early that neither could figure out what time it actually was with just the view. 

“I really like having sex with you, just so you know,” Clarke sighed, shaking her head as she covered her eyes  with an arm and smiled. 

“I’m a great person to have sex with.” 

“Shut up.” 

Lexa felt the bed shift. Her leg half hung off the bed. She had a sheet covering approximately one knee and maybe her waist, so the breeze of Clarke moving through the room drifted across her skin. She watched every movement , pulling a pillow down so she could tilt her head up to see the dimly lit body pull her hair up in a messy bun. There was enough light from the city to cast colors and shadows across skin that was becoming something familiar and memorized. The orange from the streetlights glided across spine as shorts were slipped on. The blue from a billboard a few floors below found the messy curls of hair that escaped capture as a shirt stretched and hid back. 

From her spot on the bed, naked and a little sore and slightly tired, Lexa watched that happen and she recognized a familiar kind of warmth in her chest that she’d long since forgotten. Her lungs were molten with this feeling of contentment. It wasn’t strictly ecstasy, but something sturdier. 

Hand on her hip, Clarke turned back at the naked girl in the bed, having to wait a moment before eyes reached her own and seemed to snap out of a reverie. 

“I’m hungry. Do you have food in here or am I ordering?” 

“You’re awfully bossy after so many sequential orgasms.” 

“Title of your next album. Sequential Orgasms.” 

“I don’t like this game,” Lexa groaned and flopped onto the bed. “Are you going to cook for me if I show you where the food is?” 

“Someone with clothes on should probably cook.” 

“Do you want me to get dressed?” 

“Never.” 

Lexa smiled and sat up. 

“You took my clothes.” 

“Yup,” Clarke grinned, showing them off. “They look kind of good on me. Come on. I’ll cook for you, hot stuff.” 

Hands held out and waiting, Lexa had no choice but to take what was offered and dig out some more clothes and follow Clarke toward the kitchen. In no time at all, the bartender was rummaging and pushing the nosy musician away from the stove and from hovering. It felt very normal, very perfect, and Lexa felt like she was doing something right. 

“Put on something good please,” Clarke called from the kitchen as Lexa ate a strawberry and meandered toward the record shelf. “What is your soundtrack for January third at ten at night after a few hours of sexing your Tinder date?” 

With the full weight of it all, the musician looked at her selection of music and debated each option, unsure of what to pick to fully encompass that feeling. There were the noises of the kitchen behind her, the different sounds of Clarke cooking and making a mess. The tempo was set. 

The needle kissed the vinyl and the static came over the speakers until the guitar swelled and the heartbreaking voice began his song. Lexa stood over the stereo and listened, closing her eyes and memorizing each crackle and imperfection that seemed to accent the pain in the voice-- the same one that did things she could only try to play at. 

“Isn’t this album about crippling melancholy and intense grief?” Clarke asked after a few moments. 

“Yeah,” Lexa nodded as she leaned against the counter and watched the girl in her kitchen cook. “But I think I love the very human need to survive anyway, despite being so dark. And from the darkest places, absolute universal beauty is made. It’s wonderful.” 

“Sex with me made you think of that?” 

“I needed something to balance out the happy.” 

“You’re allowed to be happy, you know?” 

“You’re not the first person who told me that.” 

“Then why don’t you listen? Stubborn.”

Clarke finished chopping and started to organize the mess she’d begun to make on the counter, looking up as Lexa stole a strawberry to see if she was right. She earned a shrug and a smile. She saw it all right there, the messy hair that was pushed out of her face and the tattoos peaking out from beneath the half rolled sleeve. 

“Sometimes, I’m not sure if I can hold a lot of happiness at one time. You make me really happy. You’re a high. And I don’t know how to keep them. I chase those,” Lexa explained, not sure if her words were making sense. Her therapist said she should say what she felt in the simplest way. It was shit advice in her opinion, and she had about an hour and twenty minutes worth of an album spent trying to articulate anything to prove how ineffectual she felt sometimes at evicting a feeling from her own chest. 

But she persisted because Clarke was putting peanut butter on bread and her eyes were very pretty. 

“I am better at lows. I can weather pain. I can weather disappointment and guilt and loss. I can hurt myself enough to deflect. Being happy is… I want that to be my default setting, but it’s not. Some people get it automatically. I have to regulate. Can’t have too much of either.” 

Matter of fact, Lexa tried to be clinical. It wasn’t that she was particularly depressed, even right before she met Clarke, just that she found a safe middle and she was afraid to leave it. She had to find some safety in it all. 

“If you let me,” Clarke began, her voice quieter than when she was giving orders quieter than when she begged in the sheets, quieter than when she was on the phone across an ocean or two. “I’d like to be an exceptionally average level of happy for you to have around.” 

“I don’t think you’ve been exceptionally average at anything in your life,” Lexa chuckled and shook her head, very overwhelmed. 

“Badminton.” 

“Well this is awkward, because I’m really looking for a doubles partner.” 

“Oh, and cleaning. I clean enough, but I’m not super anal about it.” 

“Interesting.” 

“I’m very average at crossword puzzles. And I think I fit in the middle percentile for my body mass and height chart.” 

“I see,” Lexa nodded seriously. “You are insanely average. Too average, possibly.” 

“Probably.” 

“Sometimes I feel like I’m a lot of work, and I don’t know if that’s a fair thing to ask of an insanely average person, such as yourself.” 

“You’re super easy,” Clarke disagreed, smooshing together the sandwiches she was making before putting on on the frying pan that’d been heating up. “I’m a bit of work though.” 

“I didn’t want to say anything, but yeah… you really are-- hey, ouch!” 

Despite the fake cry of pain, Lexa rubbed her side where Clarke pinched, moving forward only to dramatically lean against the chef preparing a delicious post-coital meal. 

“Wouldn’t it be cool if you could just see someone’s flaws written out, like those fact sheets they put on cars at dealerships?” 

“How many miles per gallon do you get?” 

“I’m a deal and a steal, baby,” Lexa teased, rooting her nose around in the collar of Clarke’s, or rather her own, shirt. “Thirty miles per gallon.” 

“Bad brakes though.” 

“Oh yeah, super bad,” she nodded, earning a giggle when she hit a ticklish spot with her lips. “And I don’t have a sunroof.” 

“That’s okay,” Clarke shrugged, deftly turning over the sandwich. “I am a real gas guzzler and my transmission is a little wonky.” 

“But you sure do purr like a kitten when I start you up.” 

“Okay, you ruined my car metaphor, get,” she nudged the body off of her own. “Could you grab us something to drink? And plates?” 

“What are you preparing today, chef?” 

Lexa moved around her kitchen, carefully gathering what was requested and placing them by the chairs. 

“For dinner, I have prepared for you,” Clarke explained, her accent thick and terrible. “My specialty. My favorite winter treat. My midnight snack. It is a grilled peanut butter and jelly sandwich, with cut up strawberries and bananas. I’m not sure how it will taste because you have fancy almond butter and some weird fancy jelly versus Goobers, but oh well.” 

“My nutritionist and trainer would be appalled.” 

“Tell them about all the cardio I’ve been giving you.” 

“I will not,” Lexa decided as she sat and waited for her dinner. 

“It might look a little messy, but I promise it should be delicious.” 

“My kind of treat.” 

Trying to not be too worried about Lexa’s opinion, Clarke stood across from her at the other side of the counter and looked at her own sandwich before slowly picking it up and watching Lexa out of her peripherals. She finally looked up to find the musician appraising it before deciding to take a bite. 

“There is something absolutely perfect about this moment and this sandwich is the best I’ve ever had.” 

“Stop.”

“I mean it.” 

“You’re delusional.” 

“No way,” Lexa shook her head and took another bite, careful to cover her mouth as she gushed. “This is brilliant.” 

“You’re just very hungry.” 

“Still.” 

Clarke smiled into her sandwich as she picked at the crust and chewed it while watching Lexa take another huge bite and grin with how much she enjoyed it. There might have been a blush there, in the intimacy of the kitchen in the middle of the night between two strangers were now not entirely strangers. 

Lexa knew that Clarke took lots of pictures. She knew that she had a rocky relationship with her parents. She knew that she loved being on top. She knew that she hated olives and mushrooms but couldn’t eat peppers enough. She knew that she didn’t read as much as she’d like, but that she did enjoy poetry books. And there were more. There were dozens of other facts and figures that Lexa accumulated over the past two months of talking and two weeks of fucking. She couldn’t be a stranger. 

They ate and the record played, low and doleful and enough for the moment until it finished and the needle stopped, righting itself and clicking off until it could be flipped. 

From her spot at the counter, Clarke looked around and approached the pretty musician next to her. Something about feeding her and being near her made her blush. She held out her hand, slid it down Lexa’s arm, and gripped her wrist, tugging her down the hall. 

“Is this going to be my whole life now?” Lexa wondered. “Following you around?” 

“Do you mind?” 

“The view is astounding.” 

“Shut up.” 

“I’m going to write an entire album about your ass.” 

“Please don’t.” 

“Too late.” 

The light clicked on in the bathroom. A shirt was tugged over head and Lexa watched as bare skin appeared, a long line of faint pink lines still etched in the pale skin of spine. The water was turned on in the shower, and the shorts were tugged down almost painfully slow. 

“I’ve truly just hung around to try out this amazing looking shower,” Clarke explained. “Care to take it for a spin?” 

“I could shower.” 

Scrambling, Lexa hopped gracelessly as she pulled at clothes that for some reason didn’t want to come off as Clarke slipped behind the glass of the large shower with all of the bells and whistles. By the time she made it under the hot water, Clarke was already slicking back her hair and ready to slip her arms around the new body. 

It was becoming a problem, but Lexa very much liked kissing Clarke. She liked the way her lips felt, she liked the smile she could feel, she liked the way her tongue teased, she liked the way her bottom lip felt between her teeth. There was always some sort of eagerness to Clarke’s kisses. Hands tugged at Lexa’s neck or clung to her hips, holding her in place. 

Pushing forward, Lexa earned a small hiss as skin met the cold tile of the wall, but she didn’t stop there. Her hand slid up slick ribs and raked over as much as she could, Clarke’s hands doing the same of their own vocation until almost in sync, their hands slipped lower and a moan interrupted the kiss. 

Clarke’s head rolled back, the strands of her hair sticking to her neck and cheek as Lexa murmured, her breath hot against her neck. Nails dug into the meat of her shoulder, both hands moving with purpose, but erratic due to the other’s effectiveness. 

Lexa pressed her forehead against’ Clarke’s, pushed away the hair that stuck on her face, tasted her moans. She earned grinding hips and a jolt as Clarke whispered profanities that evaporated in the steam. It didn’t stop though, despite the fact that her forearm burned and she leaned forward completely and surrendered to Clarke’s touch, her body relaxing and riding skilled fingers. 

Only when they stilled completely, did Clarke move to return the favor and fix the mess of hair on Lexa’s head. She kissed her forehead, kissed her temple, kissed her cheek and hugged her closer until the water could not slip between them. Lexa braced herself and pushed slightly away from the wall, a loopy and sated smile on her lips. 

“I really like this shower.” 

“Me too,” Clarke agreed. 

Lexa let her forehead drop to Clarke’s shoulder before kissing her neck. Lazy and disinterested in leaving the warmth, she moved slowly, taking her time with a proper worship. Lexa held Clarke’s hands, pinning them wide against the shower wall before kissing her way lower until she could hold her hips. She kissed thighs and she earned entrance and she stayed on her knees for a long time in the shower before Clarke slid down the wall, thighs spent from trying to hold her up, hands doing little good tangled in Lexa’s hair. 

It wasn’t a particularly effective shower at first. The water wasted was detrimental to the environment, but neither noticed, swapping positions with little need for words, but rather fueled by the feeling and the music and the night and the snacks and the heat and the need and the questions. 

It wasn’t until they caught their breath an hour into it, that Lexa squeezed shampoo into her hand and lathered Clarke’s hair. Or that Clarke returned the favor, both giving terrible hairstyles as they formed mohawks and buns with the soapy hair. 

“Now I’ll smell like you,” Clarke grinned as she lathered in the body wash, feeling Lexa’s smell straight away seep into her memory. 

“I like your smell better.” 

“I wonder what time it is.” 

“I don’t want to think about it.” 

“What time do you head out?” 

“Nine. And then I’ll fly away and never subject you to a sex-fueled weekend ever again.” 

“That’s the worst thing you’ve ever said to me,” Clarke complained as she rinsed, stepping aside to share the water. She ran her hands over Lexa’s hair and made sure to get all of the soap out. “I’m going to call and tell Tinder.” 

“Please don’t report me. Where will I find my next sex-capade?” 

“I don’t know and I certainly don’t care.” 

“Tiny bit jealous of my pretend future date?” Lexa teased, enjoying the look Clarke gave, noncommittal and ambivalent. 

“Nope.” 

The water turned off and Clarke reached for towels, handing on to Lexa and taking one for herself. Very quickly they were covered again. Both moved around each other as they dried and tucked. Bruises formed on skin, peaking out from deep within and eager to show what they’d spent too long doing. 

“You wouldn’t want to date me anyway. All kinds of cool parties and amazing showers. Not to mention--”

“Photographs and invasion of privacy, a schedule that entailed at least 345 days of the year touring, and you would probably break my vagina.” 

Despite the legitimate concerns, Lexa laughed at the suggestions, once again making her way back to the bed as she tossed the towel on the floor after ringing out her hair. 

“I’m gentle.” 

“You’re insatiable.” 

“I can stop whenever I want, I just don’t want to,” Lexa shrugged. “Are you complaining?” 

“I will be tomorrow,” Clarke decided, testing out some soreness in her muscles. 

Standing in the bedroom, she saw Lexa sitting there and she walked in slowly, aware of the fact that it was later now, and in just a few hours, things would change, and their little bubble of two days of non-stop sex in the beautiful condo with a Grammy-winning, chart-topping, life-changing musician, that would disappear like a dream. A bitterness crept into the memories that hadn’t even  happened yet. 

Clarke moved her hair around, the wet ends sticking to her skin. She looked around the bedroom at all they’d done to it. Their clothes were all over the place, the sheets tangled, the pillows tossed or pushed around and stuffed. Lexa’s bedroom was calm, not too full, with just a bed and a chair and some books stacked in a corner with a guitar. The view was of the entire city, and the windows covered two entire walls. But Clarke saw bits of her there, in the notes and pictures and change on the counter. Lexa left herself everywhere without meaning to at all. 

“So. How do we do this?” 

“Sex?” Lexa asked, cocking her head. “I thought you already understood.”

“You know what I mean.” 

“Remember when you matched with me and I went to Australia?” she explained as a body slid into her lap, legs going around her hips. “And we talked a lot, and sent a lot of pictures, and got super excited to meet?” 

“Stupid Tinder.” 

Shoulders were all bare and Lexa held towel-clad hips while arms wrapped around her neck. 

“That’s how we do it. No expectations.”

“No expectations.” 

“Don’t fall in love with me.” 

“Don’t fall in love with me first,” Clarke taunted. 

“I would never, but you might.” 

“Unlikely.” 

“How could you not?” Lexa furrowed. “I’m perfect.” 

“You’re on the road for the next ten months.” 

“Oh right,” she nodded. “That.” 

Despite the words, Clarke smiled at Lexa’s mischievous grin that contradicted her connotation entirely. She ran her fingertips along the musicians cheeks and jaw. She really looked at the lines of her face, at the shape of her brow and the shade of her eyes, at the curve of her lips, and the tiny pale scar on her chin. Clarke could never fall in love again, and it was a terrible thing to know, that she might hurt the beautiful girl who held her tight. 

“Don’t fall in love with me,” Clarke repeated. 

Lexa shrugged before flipping them over, pinning her to the bed and earning a giggle. The towels were opened and tugged away.

NEXT

[runearcana]

My headcanon is that Trolls are evolved from axoloytls, and so that will be part of my AUs lore too. Look at Feferi.. she looks like an axoloytl. Her skin is a pink hue, her ears are similar to what axoloytls have for ears or whatever, shes amphibious like the axoloytls are.

To be more specific I see them as axoloytl-moth hybrids.

Their horns are antennas, their mother is a grub.

Their horns are sensitive similarly to antenna on bugs.

The thing about trolls is that their mother grub is supposedly a female/mother/egg layer.

The trolls genetic material might be something a lot like sperm, but it gets mixed together somehow to cause fertilization of the eggs.

This kind of BUGS me [hah] but I think all trolls except for the mother grubs  have male genitalia and provide sperm for her, and that it being a slurry is more about maximum randomization to promote new characteristics to their species as much as possible. This is why trolls are so individualistic.

This is a moth dick when closed. :o

This is a moth dick when opened.

Thats the equipment my trolls have.

So female trolls could be futas [Futanari] or just identify as female.

My trolls pupate out of their wiggler stage at 3 years in human years.

My AU trolls have retractible penises so they can represent a male or female gender. The clawed tips only open when they reach orgasm, in order to secrete their sperm.

Alternatively, trolls are a hermaphrodite species which is why they tend to be pansexual. Maybe they can *choose* whether their genitals work/look like a penis or vagina, but still produce sperm either way.

or maybe the mother grub is a surrogate host who incubates the eggs until theyre ready to hatch.

https://static.wikia.nocookie.net/mspaintadventures/images/b/b9/Kanaya_Lusus.png/revision/latest/scale-to-width-down/180?cb=20120523173458

From the homestuck wiki:  In a discussion about reproduction, Aranea stated that trolls reproduce bisexually while humans reproduce heterosexually,

and

In a conversation Kanaya has with Jade, it is shown that trolls do have a concept of hermaphroditism, but it applies to livestock and not trolls themselves 

monoecious is a term for a bisexual species; ie, hermaphradites

Humans can ONLY reproduce with a male and female.

A individual troll of the two genders can reproduce with a male OR female gendered troll.

The mother grub is a surrogate mother and trolls have male and female genetalia.

They lack reproductive organs but produce both types of genetic material, eggs and sperm.

ORRR

Kanaya is saying they are all male biologically except mother grubs.

An attempt to compromise these two very conflicting arguments:

this means that mother grubs are always females.

but the males of their species are more complex because they can change their gender to male or female.

Its not asexual.

Sequential hermaphroditism is the name for this ability to become male or female. It has hermaphrodite in its name, so Kanaya may disagree, and shes supposed to be an expert on troll biology.

Another way of looking at it is, we can rule out them being asexual, because they need the matriorb to survive as a species, as it hatches a mothergrub. This is universally agreed upon in troll society. If they could recreate asexually, the matriorb wouldnt have mattered.

This means there are at least two sexes.

Hermaphrodite vs all trolls except the mother grub are males

We dont know if one, both, or neither of these are accurate, so beyond trolls having at least two genders, we have no absolute proof [that I have found], so its all speculation.

Anyways, Im going with all female trolls are transgender except mother grubs grubs.

Maybe one of the things about trolls having breasts is that because the mother grub looks nothing like the drones and wouldnt be sexually enticing, they needed to create female roles in their society that WOULD be enticing? and the breasts kind of mark a character as symbolically female, even though they are still male biologically. So trolls still explore gender roles because they need to to be able to reproduce? but I dunno, thered be plenty of gay males, presumably, and it would achieve the same thing.

or maybe because the mother grub cant be socialized and would more than likely be less intelligent, maybe they need to explore gender roles so that they have nurturers and other such female roles.

Fushias are always symbolically female to represent the mother grub.

Jades are [almost?] always symbolically female so they can represent more nurturing qualities?

So troll gender is about gender ROLES, while their sexual organs are biologically male for all but the mother grubs.

Theyre all biologically gay unless they find mother grubs or aliens hot.

but they may have gender-based preferences for their mates.

but anyway, all this stuff is normal to them, so THEY dont question it, but we humans are mind boggled by the implications, or maybe thats just me.

[roomprivee]

Multiple Orgasms: How to...

ALL WOMEN ARE MULTIORGASMIC!

Did you know that women don’t need much time after an orgasm until they can get another one, and that they can climax several times during a sex session while continuously being stimulated? Amazing, right?

If you are one of those who thinks that a multiple orgasm is a myth, then I’ve got some good news for you: With a little training, we should all be able to get it! 

Multiple orgasms are classified as sequential- and serial. The difference is that sequential orgasms come with short rest period in between; i.e. after you have the first orgasm, you stop, go pee, drink a little water, and then go again, i.e. 2-10 min between orgasms. On the other hand, serial orgasm is the ability to reach an orgasm, continuously stimulate with no dip in arousal between (i.e. the sex doesn’t stop) and reach another orgasm, and another, and another right after another.

Ok, let’s go! Certainly, on many occasions you reach an orgasm and it was so good and you’re so comfortable that you just don’t need more. That’s great! But if you want to experience multiple orgasms, the primary thing you have to do is really “wanting to orgasm”.

AT FIRST, DO IT ALONE

Look at the calendar When we ovulate the increase in hormones unleashes our sexual desire which increases the chances of reaching an orgasm by 1000%. So, take advantage of that time when your body is more sensitive to become a sex master and an expert of your own orgasm.

Forget what you’ve heard Forget everything about taboos and start daring to experience new things. Try watching an erotic movie or even porn – either alone or with a partner – read erotic literature… It’s about bringing to life that naughty side of yours that you’ve been hiding and simply enjoy it.

Free your mind “Free your mind and you ass will follow” (who likes Funkadelic?) J Basically, you need to relax and focus 100% on the sex itself. If you’re thinking about work or making a shopping list in your head, it will be far harder to reach your multi-orgasmic goal. Focus your attention on your vagina – sort of mind-vagina connection – try to breathe and really put your mind on it. Keep the room warm and feel comfortable.

Exercise Here I’m really talking about physical training; i.e. gym or whatever. Exercising increases testosterone in women too, which improves circulation and blood-flow to your vagina and increases overall orgasmic ability; i.e. it prepares your body for better sex. Seriously! Just try proving me wrong on this one.

Play with the crown jewel The clitoris is the relic of pleasure for women and a key to multiple orgasm. Many of us girls experience super sensitive clitoris after orgasm and we don’t feel like continuing stimulating it, but that is something you have to overcome. I like to call it “breaking the wall” – i.e. force yourself to continue and maintain the feeling of pleasure and go on and on and on and on... A good idea is to use lubricant to soften everything - if you don’t have lubricant there, feel free to use coconut oil, or even olive oil. Seriously. I speak from experience :)

AND NOW WITH YOUR PARTNER

Licking If you get your first orgasm with your partner with oral sex, it will be easier to follow through with penetration, either penis or a toy. If you’ve already reached the point of wanting this, then a seriously good idea is to explore the basics of tantra. It can help, believe me! Check out some of the basics here: Five Fundamentals to Take Your First Steps in Tantric Sex

Stay in control Put yourself in a position where you can control well the stimulation you give your clitoris and even stimulate yourself with a toy while your partner penetrates you. This toy here, and this as well, are both amazing for clitoral stimulation and excellent for the purpose we’re discussing here. It’s time to take those orgasms to the next level.

xxx

Imagine, if having an orgasm is so good, having several must be heavenly!

Original post published by Room Privée on October 19, 2019: Multiple Orgasms: How to…