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dollyyun · 2 months

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𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍𝒔 | chap 20

SYPNOSIS: wherein Hwang Stella's life is tangled in a predicament involving her clandestine identity as a racer, her seemingly daily life as the official heir to the Hwang Empire, and seven guys with whom she has a complex history with.

PAIRING: enhypen members x fem oc.

GENRE: 18+ (mdni), reverse harem, chaebols, semi-college & racing, eventual adulthood, non-idol au, eventual enha being f1 drivers, multiple pov (this fic is written in first pov).

WARNINGS: expletives, mention of pregnancy, making out, smut.

WORD COUNT: 10k+

FEATURING: le sserafim yunjin.

TAGLIST: @aishigrey @kgneptun @b3tt7boop @smg-valeria @lhspeachie @enhaverse713586 @strxwbloody @firstclassjaylee @jwnghyuns @luminouskalopsia @deobitifull @loumin908 @sousydive

🍒 MASTERLIST 🍒

I can't precisely recall the last time I ever slept exceptionally well without having to worry about anything. Although I yearn to return to my deep slumber, the sensation of warm lips pressing against my cheek and giving me delicate, feathery kisses is a hindrance. Yet, the butterflies in my stomach are in their wake.

My heavy eyelids refuse to open while every part of my muscle aches tremendously, testaments to last night's endeavour. I don't think I can even move a limb without difficulty. Damn it. They really did a whole lot of work on me.

I remain motionless, but as I feel him unceasingly pepper his kisses all over my face while his arms around my body hug me closer to him, I can't hold back from reacting to his affection, a soft smile curling at my lips. When his lips touch the sensitive spot on my neck with his hair tickling under my chin, a soft audible sigh leaves my lips, almost eliciting a purr that comes up in my throat at the pleasurable sensation.

"I know you're awake, princess." Sunghoon's husky voice speaks against my skin, which gives me a tickling sensation. He presses a deep kiss on my cheek before nuzzling his cheek against mine. "Come on, princess. We've been waiting for you to wake up."

Another pair of lips comes into contact with my shoulder blade from behind, and an arm slithers its way underneath my top. The sensation of his warmth on my skin intensifies the butterflies in my tummy.

"Baby." Jay sighs softly next to my ear before he places a kiss on my pulse below my ear. "You've been asleep for too long. Wake up, please?"

I hum sleepily in return, my eyes remaining closed as the remnants of somnolence still persist in my weary body, which is in dire need of a massage. "Is there breakfast in bed?" I am taken aback by the soreness of my throat, and my voice sounds huskier than usual.

"You sound so fucking hot, baby." Jay kisses the side of my neck. "And to answer your question, no."

"Then I'm not waking up."

"Princess, please." Sunghoon caresses my cheek gently as he pleads.

Eventually, I give in and force my heavy eyelids to flutter open. When I do, my heart does a little flip while warmth weaves across my cheeks as Sunghoon gazes deeply into my eyes and the close proximity between our faces.

Sunghoon unfurls a soft grin on his handsome countenance, in such contrast to the man he was last night. "Good afternoon, princess."

My eyebrows furrow. "It's afternoon already?"

"Two in the afternoon, to be precise." Jay answers, prompting me to turn my head to the side and meet his warm gaze, as does his charming yet gentle smile on his lips. "Slept so good, baby?"

"I did." As I answer his question, my eyes are threatening to close as the pillow on the back of my head lulls me to return to my deep slumber.

"Nu-uh, we're not letting you go back to sleep." Sunghoon grips my chin, forcing my head to tilt and look into his stern gaze. "Are you seriously that tired?"

"It's all you guys' fault!" A whine leaves my lips, to which both of them chuckle in unison. "I need at least 24 hours of sleep to regain strength."

"Our fault?" Jay hums, his lips remaining on my shoulder blade. "I recall that you were the one who not only avoided us like a total plague, but you made us jealous as well."

I ignore Sunghoon's gaze on my face as I bite down on my lip before sighing. "I think it's time we have a heart-to-heart talk about it." My voice is coming out softer and softer as a certain devil appears in my mind. "And I have something important to tell all of you."

Sunghoon and Jay cling onto me, showering me with kisses and sweet words before they reluctantly let me go after I adamantly tell them that I need to head back to Aera and my room to take a shower.

"You can take a shower here instead." Jay says as I remain seated on the edge of the bed, already feeling the tremendous aches at the moment I moved a limb. "Jake and Heeseung went to your room to get your clothes and to check on Aera."

Concurrently, the door swings open, with Jaeyun and Heeseung entering. I spot familiar clothing, as do my undergarments, in Jaeyun's grasps, to which my cheeks go flushed.

"It looks like our girl is finally awake." Jaeyun's chuckles evoke a sense of giddiness within me, as I find them contagious. "Slept well, my love?"

"Considering that I slept like a dead log, then yeah, I did." I attempt to stand, and surprisingly, I manage to do so without any difficulty, but as I take steps forward, my knees buckle underneath me, and I go unstable.

Swiftly enough, Heeseung holds me steady against him while I instinctively lean into him for support. I hear him chuckling breathily above me, and in return, I shoot him a scowl. "It's not amusing."

"Yeah, it is." Sunghoon remarks from behind, causing me to roll my eyes.

"No, it's not. You guys really did a number on me, and I am in dire need of a massage." I grumble while Heeseung still has his arm around my waist. I cast a glance at each of them before smirking lightly. "Also, no sex for at least a month."

As expected from their reaction, a simultaneous gasp erupts from them. "What? But─"

"You can take it as a challenge instead." I cut them off, and upon seeing the look on their faces (resembling a bunch of puppies), I heave a sigh. "Put yourselves in my shoes. Imagine having more than one boyfriend and having sex on a daily basis or even within the day, just like last night."

"There's a reason why there are seven days a week." Jay states nonchalantly as he shrugs his shoulders, eliciting a glare from me. "Okay, fineeee. We'll take it as a challenge."

Just as Heeseung is about to assist me to the bathroom, I halt my steps as a realisation alarms me. "What's wrong, sweetheart?" Heeseung asks with a frown on his face.

I swallow down harshly while my lips go dry. "We didn't use any protection last night." I say slowly as I study the expression on their faces. "What if I get pregnant?" Panic begins to expand in my chest at the thought of me bearing a baby in my womb. It is not that I don't want to have a child since I'm already at the acceptable age for having one, but I'm just not ready to be a mother.

"But we've never used protection with you after all this time." Jaeyun tells me, tilting his head to one side. "I know I didn't."

"Even if you get pregnant by us, isn't it a good thing?" Jay mumbles, looking rather disheartened. "Don't you want to have children with any of us?"

"It isn't that, but it has something to do with─" I bite down on my tongue, holding back from saying the devil's name. I sigh once more. "Let me just take a shower first, and then we'll talk, okay?"

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

After donning my crop-top denim jacket on top of my crop-top white tee, I proceed to blow my hair with the hair dryer. My ears perk up at the commotion coming from the outside, hearing new yet familiar voices, but I take my time to make my appearance look decent enough. When my gaze falls to the hickeys on my neck, my cheeks go flushed.

I have forgotten to ask them to help retrieve my makeup bag. I can't go out looking like this since there is a possibility that any of my family members will stumble upon me once I make my way back to my room. Oh, who am I kidding? My family members are bound to find out about my relationship with the guys sooner or later.

I step out of the bathroom, now having less difficulty walking and able to withstand the aches on every muscle better than I did earlier. When I arrive, I am greeted by the sight of Jungwon and Riki seated on the couch with their heads resting on the back of the couch while their faces are twisting in discomfort with low groans emitting from them. Sunoo is standing by the window with his arms crossed over his chest, overseeing the view, while the rest are scattered around the room, but nonetheless, they are a noisy bunch.

"What's going on?" I ask, feeling rather amused as I make my way to Riki and Jungwon.

Upon hearing my voice, Riki snaps his eyes open and lazily tilts his head to meet my eyes. "Still reeling in the hangover." He tells me with a faint smile. The smile on his lips, however, falters as soon as his gaze falls to my neck, prompting him to straighten his back and grab my hand. "Your neck." He frowns before glaring at the four, who, in return, cough and avert their gaze elsewhere.

"I'm fine, my love." With the endearment, Riki seems to relax, now looking at me with a softened gaze. He brings my hand near his lips before kissing them delicately. "Are you really fine?" Riki squeezes my hand firmly.

"Yes, don't you worry." I lean down to peck his forehead. "You should really drink some water to flush out the alcohol in your system." I tell him as my eyes shift to Jungwon, who has been staring at me with a frown.

Recalling the last time we were arguing, guilt washes over me like tidal waves. Not only do I feel guilty about Jungwon and I's argument, but I also feel guilty about deciding alone what's best for us. I should do better.

"Jungwon." I utter his name softly, taking small steps towards him. His feline-like eyes seem intimidating as they scan me, but soon, his face has a tinge of softness before he heaves a sigh and straightens his back.

Without uttering a word, he grabs my hand and pulls me to sit on top of his lap, sideways. His arms wrap around my waist securely while he leans in to press a deep kiss on my cheek. "Hey, doll." He murmurs against my cheek, and it seems that he's not letting go of me anytime soon with how firm he holds me.

As I look up, Sunoo catches my eye, and he gives me a soft grin that looks like a smirk as well, sending flutters to my heart. My eyes return to Riki, whom I am facing, and he is sitting closely next to Jungwon. Riki grabs my hand once more to place a kiss on my palm.

At this point, my heart is about to combust by their gestures of affection. But then comes the dread. A sigh leaves my lips. "We really need to talk."

Soon, all of them are gathered in the centre of the room, with Jungwon still having me in his possession as I remain seated on his lap. Riki and Sunoo are seated next to each other on the same sofa as us, while Jaeyun and Jay are seated on the couch across from us. Heeseung is standing near the coffee table, as he looks rather worried, while Sunghoon is leaning his back against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest with a cool gaze.

The silence shrouding us is uncomfortable, as there is a certain tension, especially with their gazes on me. I lower my gaze and look down at my hands on my thighs. "I um─" I swallow harshly. "I would like to apologise for making a decision without discussing it with all of you, but you must understand that being in a polygamous relationship is rare and is deemed unacceptable to some."

Surprisingly, no one interjects as they listen attentively to me. With Jungwon's fingers caressing gently on my bare skin at my waist, I seek comfort in his touch and continue to speak. "As you obviously know, I've been avoiding being seen with all of you because I was afraid and still am." A shaky breath leaves my lips while my gaze remains on my hands. "I'm afraid of how my family members would take the news of me having seven boyfriends. Above all, I'm afraid that it would lead to me having to break things off with all of you."

"We won't allow that to happen, darling." Sunoo's soft, comforting voice, as he assures me, prompts me to look at him. My heart swells at the sentiments residing in his gaze. "It won't come to that. I'm sure of it."

"That's the thing. I just don't understand how all of you seem casual about being in a relationship with me all at once." I shift my gaze to each of them. "Aren't you afraid?"

"What's there to be afraid of?" Jay asks, raising his eyebrow. "We are just like any other individuals who are in love and in a relationship with someone they truly love."

"We don't particularly give a damn about other people's opinions on our relationship." Jaeyun adds. "Besides, our relationship is a consensual decision."

"What about your families?" I press, no longer concealing my perturbation. "Especially mine. I don't want to disappoint them, nor do I want them to hate me."

"Don't worry about our families." Sunghoon speaks up, his tone is firm and decisive, as does his countenance. "We'll handle them."

"I don't think your family would ever hate you for being in love, sweetheart." Heeseung gives me a gentle smile that makes my heart ache. "If anything, they would want you to be happy."

A part of me is convinced by his statements, but another part is still uncertain. My eyes turn crestfallen. "But still, I'm afraid."

"We're here, aren't we?" Jungwon grips my chin to tilt my head, forcing eye contact with him. "Like I said before, we'll protect you. You're not alone in this. You have us, and you can always rely on us."

The rest hums and nods their heads in unison while I am starting to feel overwhelmed by their love and devotion. I muster a smile despite my lips quivering before wrapping my arms around Jungwon's neck and hugging him. My heart flutters as he hugs me with equal fervour, and the way he presses a kiss on my neck.

"What if you get your family to arrange a dinner where we formally introduce ourselves to them and break the news?" Jay's suggestion makes my eyes go wide in panic. "Isn't it better that way than to have them discover us by hearing from other people's mouths?"

"It's just a suggestion, love." Jaeyun says quickly, probably seeing how panicked I am.

"I'll think about it." I say with a faint smile before faltering as a certain devil pops into my mind. "There's also another thing you need to know." I don't realise how my body trembles until Jungwon hugs me tighter. I close my eyes momentarily before finally revealing the dreadful news. "Minhyuk's back."

Their reactions are exactly as I expected. Amidst the pure confusion, sheer resentment and fury are emanating from them. Soon, I begin to tell them from scratch, including the details of how I found out about Minhyuk and Yeji confronting that monster. I don't miss any details, despite being uncertain of the hows and whys.

"I thought he was sentenced to life imprisonment?!" Riki doesn't look as happy as the rest, making me feel slightly intimidated by the cold aura he exudes.

"I don't know." My eyes glisten with tears before I bury my face in my palms. "But now that he's here, I'm afraid that he might do something to all of you. I'm afraid that he still keeps his promise of wanting to kill you as I watch."

"Hey, Stel. It's okay." Riki grabs my hands before gently pulling them away from my face. I see the way his gaze softens upon seeing a tear sliding down my cheek. "He won't be able to hurt us."

"You don't know that." I say shakily. "I know Minhyuk, and while he's the epitome of evil, he's also intelligent and unpredictable. We can never underestimate him."

"Like Ni-Ki said, he won't be able to hurt us." Heeseung speaks up, his voice holds such resolution and hatred. A muscle pulses in his jaw while his eyes harden. "Because we won't allow him, and we certainly won't allow him to take you away from us."

"You should inform the rest of your family members about this." Jaeyun tells me. "It's better than to keep them in the dark. We don't know for sure if Minhyuk would hurt them as well."

"The next time I see that fucker, I'm not going to kill him. Instead, I'll have him tortured in the most excruciating way." Sunghoon smirks coldly, and shivers run down my spine upon hearing the dark, promising tone in his voice.

"You do realise that you may get arrested for committing such crimes?" Sunoo deadpans as he stares at Sunghoon.

Sunghoon rolls his eyes. "Then somebody needs to capture that fucker and put him behind bars permanently."

"What are we going to do?" Although my voice is barely above a whisper, it is enough for them to fall silent with their gazes fixed on my crestfallen face. "I promised myself that I wouldn't allow Minhyuk to affect me anymore, but here I am, still afraid of him." I curl my hand into a fist.

"Firstly, you need to inform your family about him. The next thing is, you need a bodyguard, or rather, bodyguards." Jungwon cups my cheeks as he looks at me in the eyes with a smile on his face. "It's none other than us, of course."

"No." I shake my head. "You can't be my bodyguards, especially when I don't want anything to happen to you. You guys still have careers, not to mention the upcoming Grand Prix." Pushing aside my fear, I muster courage as my eyes hardened with resolution. "I know what I need to do."

"What's your plan, darling?" Sunoo asks.

In response, I offer him a small smile before looking at the rest of them. "Do you guys trust me?" They nod in an instant. "Then trust me on this. All of your safety and well-being are my priorities."

I take out my phone from my pocket and immediately start texting, with Jungwon peeking. "Who is Henry?" He asks out loud, the jealousy is apparent in his tone, as is the way his arms tighten around my waist.

"Don't bother getting jealous. He's already married." I state bluntly as I press on the message logo. "He's someone whom I trust and who has been loyal to me. Plus, he's working as an undercover agent." As I bite down on my lip, I proceed to send him a text.

STELLA: Hey, Henry. Are you busy right now?

HENRY: Kinda, but what do you need?

STELLA: I have a favour to ask of you.

It's been a few days since the wedding, and time is flying by faster than I anticipated. Although the guys and I have officially established our relationship status with Stella, that doesn't imply things will be easy, especially given that the seven of us are public figures as Formula One stars.

My best friends and I share a mutual love-hate relationship with our careers. Yes, we are thankful for where we are now, given that it was all thanks to our blood, sweat, and tears from years of arduous work, but being renowned stars doesn't really grant you the privacy you desire.

Privacy is a luxury for us, and with the Grand Prix around the corner, we are bound to be stalked and pestered by paparazzi outside of working hours. Even when our respective management has broadened and tightened security by employing more bodyguards to provide us with adequate security, depending on the severity of the situation, it is still insufficient.

I love my fans, really, and I'm thankful to them because, without them and the advantage of advanced technology, I probably wouldn't be as famous as I am now. But sometimes, they may go overboard, stepping over their boundaries. So yeah, there are pros and cons to being a superstar.

Stella was right. We should have carefully weighed the gravity of our situation, but we were so caught up in the ephemeral joy of us reuniting with her for good that we neglected how crucial it was for us to be prudent now that we are officially in a polygamous relationship with her.

Stella's part is additionally crucial since she is a travel manager with exceptional skills that have earned her the esteem and respect of those she has worked with and alongside, culminating in her enviable reputation in the Formula One industry. We can't risk tarnishing Stella's name if the public learns about our relationship with her, especially not the Formula One executives, because our relationship is deemed a conflict of interest.

Nevertheless, if we ever get discovered and it may result in consequences, I can affirm that I will choose Stella over my career. I can't be too certain about my best friends, but I have long since come to the agreement with myself that if there is a time when I have to choose between the love of my life and my career, I will choose her without a doubt. I won't make the same mistake.

Besides, even if my racing career gets cancelled, I would just have to take over at one of my father's franchise companies as the chief operating officer. So my future has already been meticulously planned, even before I chose to embark on my racing journey.

A bright flash from a camera pulls me out of the short trance I am in, but I am quick enough to put up a broadened smile, posing for the cameras in my line of sight. Today is a Thursday, and for us, every Thursday on a race week means that it is media day, with drivers such as me being interviewed in the TV press pen, attending a press conference, and filming content for the social media team.

I don't know about my best friends, but for me, this has got to be my least favourite. Not only do they have questions for me regarding my aspiration, my fans, and my career, but those questions also involve personal questions regarding my private life. But since this is part of being a Formula One star, I am inclined to indulge their incessant questions.

"We have one last question before you go." One of the reporters says unwaveringly with a gleamer of interest in her eyes. "Do you have any WAGs?"

Fortunately, I have long since anticipated that they would ask this question. WAGs is simply an abbreviation for 'Wives And Girlfriends' which is commonly used in the sports industry, especially in Formula One.

Of course, I can't reveal the truth. "No, but my heart is already reserved for someone." I answer with a smile despite being uncertain if I should or should not have added a few more words that might lead to these reporters pestering me to reveal the truth.

"Jay!" Sunoo's voice draws my attention. He is a few feet away from me as he is also being interviewed, his hand waving to me and beckoning me to come over, and so I do, leaving the earlier reporters confounded by my answer.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The day seems to be dragging painfully slowly. From one interview to another, we are now concurrently in the press conference room, and I have been waiting impatiently for this to end, though I don't show it as I need to be careful since there are cameras everywhere.

I don't bother to listen to what they have been droning on and on, allowing my eyes to scan the view in my line of sight. Among the crowd, Stella's face stands out to me. She is standing by the entrance with her arms folded below her chest as she leans sideways against the wall. There is a small smile playing on her lips as she watches us, almost as if she looks incredibly proud of us.

Her eyes meet mine at the moment I search for hers. I suppress myself from giving her a smile. God, she looks exquisite in all-black skirt, and a blazer with her white top allows a teasing glimpse of her cleavage.

I don't know how long it has been since we made unwavering eye contact with a palpable tension that only we could discern, but long enough for me to realise that the press conference has come to an end.

After shaking hands and engaging in a brief conversation with the journalists who approach the rest of the drivers and me, I begin to make my way to the entrance in haste, where Stella was seen leaving.

I know that being seen with Stella at any moment of time is risky, but I don't think I can wait any longer. After the wedding, we've been apart from Stella as reality dawned on us. We can't always be together with her at any time we like. Since we have busy schedules, it is going to be a challenge for us to meet and spend time with each other.

I spot her from afar, engaging in a conversation with one of the Formula One executives. As soon as I take a step forward with the intention of approaching her, a certain someone goes in the way, preventing me from reaching Stella quickly. Someone whom I harbour an odium for after our last conversation.

"Jennifer." Despite my acknowledgment for her, there is no ounce of amiability in my demeanour while my eyes harden with coldness. I should have expected that the she-devil would be here, considering that her father is one of the executives.

The emotion in her hazel-hued eyes reflects the same as mine, while her red, smeared lips curve into a callous grin. "Jay."

Huh Yunjin, otherwise known as Jennifer Huh, is a distant cousin of mine. Her mother and mine are cousins, but they used to be close whenever my family and I flew to New York during my school breaks throughout elementary and high school.

Initially, Jennifer and I got a tad along since we're the same age, but as time passed, we've grown fiercely competitive against one another, be it academically or not. I remember hating her with such fervour when my parents would give their attention to her instead of me. Above all, I hated that she would always want whatever I wanted, and she got it.

But this time, I won't be allowing her to steal what's mine. Hwang Stella.

Based on our last interaction, or rather, confrontation, I have an inkling that Jennifer is in love with Stella. To finally know that my cousin, Stella, and Aera are best friends has rendered me disgruntled. I don't even have the heart to prevent Stella from being best friends with her, as I refuse to be a controlling boyfriend, but a part of me worries that Jennifer might steal Stella from me.

"What are you doing here? You don't even contribute anything to this organisation." I remark snidely, my impatience is running thin the longer she obstructs my way to get to Stella, who looks like she is close to being done conversing with the executive.

The callous grin on Jennifer's lips drop to a sneer, and the scornful gaze of hers burns directly into mine. "Didn't you know? I've always been one of the important guests─"

"Right. You earned yourself the privilege because you're a daddy's girl." A smirk touches my lips. I can't help but taunt her, especially when she looks as though she wants to strangle me.

Jennifer stands tall with an air of arrogance exuding from her with her arms folded below her chest, almost reaching my height as she is wearing heels. "You're lucky that my father takes a great liking to you, or else I'll have you dismissed from this organisation."

Her mere statement doesn't deter me, as my eyes remain boring into hers with nonchalance. "Seriously, I'm getting really sick of you. What do you want?" My eyes accidentally trail behind her, where Stella can be seen shaking hands with the executive.

It appears that Jennifer notices my lack of attention to her as she turns her head to look at Stella as well before returning her cold gaze to mine. "I heard from Aera that you're together with Stella for good." The tone in her voice denotes patent disapproval. "Aren't you and your friends greedy for wanting to share her as your girlfriend? I mean, imagine if word got out that the Formula One stars are in a polygamous relationship with Stella, then Stella would be the one to suffer the consequences more than all of you."

"It won't come to that." I retort firmly.

Jennifer scoffs. "You don't know that."

"We won't allow that to happen, because Stella's reputation and safety are our priorities." My voice is tinged with resolution, as is my gaze, before I push past her, purposely bumping my shoulder with hers, not before giving her a word of advice, or rather, a warning. "You should really steer clear of our relationship, cousin."

But Jennifer latches her fingers tightly around my wrist, forcing me to look at her in the eyes. "I care greatly for Stella, and I don't want to see her getting hurt just because all of you are selfish for wanting to be with her at once." She hisses lowly.

In response, I smirk coldly at her, knowing better than to believe this facade of hers. "Or maybe you're in love with my girlfriend."

At the moment she flinches visibly, I know that my inkling was correct all along. A muscle pulses in my jaw as I yank my wrist away from her loose grip. "You can't fool me with this 'overprotective best friend' pretence, cousin." A cold chuckle leaves my lips. "It's pathetic, really. You can't do much to prevent us from being together with Stella when we've known her longer than you've known her."

"That doesn't erase the fact that you guys hurt her." She counters fiercely. "Yes, you guys have known her longer than I have, but at least I wasn't the one who hurt her or used her simply to achieve my goal."

"That was fucking years ago." I don't bother holding back my anger as I glower at her. "Stella has forgiven us; that's what matters. Just give it up, Jennifer. Stella is happy with us, and you won't do anything to jeopardise her happiness."

"Dear cousin, who says anything about jeopardising her happiness?" She gives me a mocking grin, and something feels unsettling. "I can make her happy, and I can definitely make her forget about all of you. She deserves someone more worthy than you."

"Fuck you." I snarl coldly, curling my hand into a fist and refraining from hitting a woman. "I don't care that you're my cousin, but if you do anything to destroy our relationship, trust me that you'll have more to worry about than your privilege of being the executive's daughter."

With one last menacing glare into her eyes, I turn my back on her and proceed to walk away from her, with the intention to follow Stella as she is descending the flight of stairs.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

It feels like we're playing a cat-and-mouse game with the exception of journalists, executives, and team principles hindering me from getting to Stella as fast as I can. I try my utmost to keep my exasperation at bay while maintaining a pleasantly charming demeanour, but the second the opportunity is there for me to make my escape, I grasp it with much vehemence and waste no time in fleeing the big scene.

From afar, Stella is heading to the right corner, but her eyes meet mine for a fleeting moment, and it is enough for me to receive her implicit message that she does want me to follow her. And I do.

Stella seems to know her way around here like the back of her hand, including secluded areas that no one will surely stumble upon. She is like a guiding light, with me still trailing behind her from afar, but my long legs manage to catch up to her.

I don't even know where we are, but it appears that we are along the dim corridor with doors leading to unknown rooms. As soon as Stella enters one of the rooms, I follow suit and am swift enough to pin her against the door as it closes with a thud. I don't give her time to process as I slam my lips against hers.

We kiss like we've been long since deprived of each other, with my hands roaming around her body while her arms lazily drape around my neck, pulling me close to her until our bodies touch.

My knee is settled between her legs, allowing her to grind her heat freely against my thigh, prompting her to pull away from my chasing lips with her head leaning against the door. Faint moans leave her lips while her pretty, dainty neck is arched, allowing my eyes to feast on how fucking good she looks with her neck baring at me, tempting me to bite on her skin, and I do.

"Jay." She gasps softly as soon as my teeth tug at her skin before giving her throat a kiss. She doesn't relent from grinding on my thigh while I assist her by pressing my thigh hard against her heat.

My tongue trails over her throat before resuming to suck on her skin while relishing the pretty moans from her kissable lips that go directly to my hardening cock. I trail my kisses upward before returning to kiss her lips, swallowing her pretty moans.

"Jay." She moans cutely into my mouth, to which I force my tongue into her hot cavern. I make out with her tongue for a moment before resuming to kiss her senselessly, which I take great pleasure in at how breathless she is getting with each passing second.

I pull away from her lips just slightly, with my harsh breaths hitting her moist, parted lips while my hand is groping her derrière. "I've missed you so much, baby." I rasp, my voice coming out breathlessly husky, nearly growling at the constant grinding of her heat on my thigh. "Naughty girl. You lured me out here just so you could relieve yourself."

"Please." She whispers helplessly as soon as I slowly withdraw my knee from her, teasing her.

"Please what?" I hum, smirking lazily while I caress her cheek. "What does my baby need?"

Her hands clutch at the hems of my black blazer. "I need you to fuck me."

"Right here?" I ask mockingly, with my eyebrow arched. "Want me to fuck you against the door, baby?"

Her lips quiver. "Yes."

Fuck, she looks cute with her glistening eyes staring pleadingly into mine, blatantly displaying how needy she is, and the tears showing me that she hates being teased relentlessly.

"I don't know. I mean, what if someone hears us?" I sigh, dragging this out painfully slowly.

"No one comes here, I promise." She tugs at my blazer, attempting to pull me close to her, but I don't relent. "Please Jay. I need you."

Seeing a teardrop fall from her eye, I decide to cease my teasing. In a matter of minutes, our lower garments have been discarded. Since she has long since been wet from the grinding, I line the tip of my cock to her entrance before shoving it into her cunt, which is pulsating around my girth while a moan leaves her lips.

I give her a minimal amount of time to adjust to my length and start to thrust into her, her back hitting the door behind her with how hard I keep thrusting into her.

"This is what you wanted, right?" A grunt leaves my lips at how tight her walls are clamping around my cock, but I manage to bury myself into her to the hilt, almost moaning out at how fucking good she feels as she squeezes me hard. I dip my head next to her head. "I didn't know you were this nasty. Fucking one of the stars while there is an event still going on." I whisper harshly, the degradation has her cunt pulsating once more, eliciting a mocking chuckle from me.

"More." She whispers, her arms around my neck as she hugs me close. "Fuck me harder."

"I'll fuck you harder, alright." A snarl is ripped out of me as I swiftly hoist her with her legs wrapped around my waist before her back hits the door with a loud thud as I begin to fuck her harder.

"Fuck." I moan, dropping my head to her shoulder while still holding her up, my orgasm impending, but I want her to make a mess all over me first. I silence myself by kissing and biting her neck, but I am careful not to leave my marks.

"Jay." As she moans my name, I know that she is close.

"Do it, baby." I rasp against her skin, unrelentingly delivering a slow yet deep thrust into her cunt, while my other hand descends to rub her clit, intensifying her pleasure. With a high-pitched moan, her body trembles as she comes down from the delirious high, but I'm not even done with her.

"Jay, sensitive." She whimpers as I continue to fuck her, but soon, a moan follows right after from her moist lips upon the overstimulation.

"Have my baby." The words fly out from my mouth without my knowledge. Despite the lust clouding my every senses, love is palpable as I gaze at the woman before me.

My words seem to capture her attention as she meets my gaze. "Your baby...." She murmurs, an inexplicable haze in her alluring eyes, but her arms tighten around me, meeting my thrust before kissing me in an attempt to quieten her moans.

"Marry me." I whisper against her parted lips as we pull away just slightly. With one last thrust, my hips go still as I paint her velvet walls white while she comes for the second time with her thighs quivering around my waist.

Heavy, harsh pants leave our swollen lips as we gaze at each other with tinges of softness. I lean my forehead against hers, closing my eyes as I savour this moment of tranquilly with the woman whom I see a future with. No words are exchange between us as we bask in the comfortable silence.

As I flutter my eyes open, Stella is gazing at me with sentiments that I know all too well. A soft grin touches my lips before I lean in to kiss her sweetly, to which she reciprocates, and I can feel practically melting against me while she still has her legs wrapped around my waist.

A soft gasp leaves her lips as soon as I withdraw myself from her. Fortunately, there is a box of tissues at the side, of which I grab some and give them to her before we begin to busy ourselves, cleaning and wiping away any evidence of our illicit activity. We wear our lower garments, making ourselves look presentable enough as we adjust our tousled hair. Thankfully, we didn't break out into perspiration that much since the air conditioner is quite strong.

Stella clears her throat, prompting my attention right after I zip up my pants. She seems to be typing away on her phone before finally returning her gaze to mine. "I've texted the other guys to meet us here. There is something I need to tell all of you."

A frown touches my lips. "Should we be worried?"

"Not entirely." She heaves a sigh, ambling towards the table before leaning behind against the edge of the table with her arms folded below her chest. My eyes follow the movement of her teeth tugging at her bottom lip while she appears to be in deep thought.

"Baby, are you okay?" I ask softly as I stand directly in front of her. My hand ascends to cradle the cusp of her jaw, prompting her to lift her head and meet my eyes.

Stella gazes at me softly with a whirlpool of sentiments in those beautiful eyes of hers. "Did you mean it?" Her voice is barely above a whisper. "About marrying me?"

I give her a faint smile while my thumb caresses her cheek gently. "Forget what I said. I was too caught up in the moment." However, disappointment flickers in her gaze, which I frown at. "Don't get me wrong, baby. I do want to marry you, but I don't think you would want to settle down now, especially with what's going on."

"What if I say that I'm ready?" Stella takes me by surprise with her question, or rather, affirmation. Sheer resolution goes ablaze in her gaze. Upon seeing how flabbergasted I am, she sighs softly before leaning forward to place a chaste kiss on my lips, not allowing me to savour her cherry-flavoured lips as she withdraws from me.

Her lips are adorned with a beautiful smile that melts away my worries. "I've thought about it long and hard, and I even asked Aera for advice." As she continues to speak, my heart is pounding hard against my chest. "I am ready to settle down with all of you only after everything is done and dusted, especially with Hwang Minhyuk being here." But a moment of irresolution and worry reflects in her eyes. "I don't know how it'll turn out, but I know for a fact that we're going to make it through."

"You want to settle down with us?" I still can't wrap this around my head while I remain staring at her with dubiety. "But if you do, then you'll have to travel around with us often because a major part of our job is required to travel overseas for Grand Prix seasons."

"I know, Jay. I'm a travel manager, remember?" She chuckles softly, but upon noticing how quiet I have become, she sighs once more and cradles my face with her warm palms, gazing sternly at me, but soon comes the tenderness. "Trust me, Jay, when I say that I've given much thought to this and about us."

"Then what about your job?" I ask, still frowning. "You might get sacked since our being in a relationship is considered a conflict of interest."

"Then so be it." I would not have taken her words seriously if it wasn't for the confirmation smile on her face. "I can always find similar job positions in different industries." She assures me. "As for my family, I'm ready for them to meet all of you, which also means that all of you are invited for tomorrow's dinner."

"Okay." Eventually, I acquiesce to her decision. "Or maybe you don't have to work since you have us to support you. You do know that we are more than capable of providing for you."

She shakes her head with a smile. "I don't want to be dependent on you."

I ignore her refusal, knowing that I will eventually provide for her. "So, Hwang Stella," I drawl, smirking lightly while her cheeks are a shade of pink. "What do you think about getting married in Vegas?"

Despite the fact that her eyes are sparkling with interest, her demeanour appears bashful while her eyes waver the longer she is staring into my eyes. She lowers her head, and her hand tugs at the hem of my blazer, pulling me closer. "Um, is it fine with you if we don't need a guest list?"

My heart swells with the utter adoration and love I have for her. A breathy chuckle leaves my lips as I grip her chin, tilting her head up. "Anything you want, baby." I tell her sincerely as I lean down to plant a kiss on her forehead before embracing her in my arms. "We can even sign the documents and tie the knots without having to throw a wedding."

"Really?" She sounds keen while her arms tighten around me.

"Of course. Whatever my baby wants, my baby gets." I reaffirm, leaning my cheek against the side of her head and hugging her close. All the while, I have been trying my utmost to contain my heart from bursting in happiness.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

"This room reeks of sex!" Sunghoon, who is the first person to enter, complains with his face contorting into a grimace, followed by the rest as a chorus of agreement in murmurs and hums elicited from them. His steely eyes meet mine the instant I remain seated on the swivel chair. "I should've known that you guys sneaked away just so y'all could fuck."

I arch my eyebrow at him. "Actually, it was Stella's idea. She was the one who lured me out here first."

All eyes are on her, who is seated on the table with her legs dangling in the air just slightly. Stella's cheeks are flushed in pink while her gaze is elsewhere, and her bottom lip is tucked between her teeth, most likely abashed from the truth I revealed to them.

"You sly little vixen." Sunoo steps forward towards her, cupping her cheeks. A chorus of chuckles emits from us as her lips go pouty with how Sunoo is squishing her cheeks. "I had no idea how risqué our darling is." He chastises her softly as he loosens his grip, not before leaning down to plant a kiss on her nose.

As soon as Sunoo releases her face, she rubs her cheeks while shooting Sunoo a scowl. "That hurts." She grumbles, but soon enough, Sunoo delivers her an apology with a kiss on her cheek, to which she can't help but break into a smile before latching her arms around him, hugging him, and snuggling into him.

I don't know about the rest, but my heart swells with adoration at how endearing she is. There is no denying the fact that my jealousy is apparent whenever she shows her love and affection for the other guys, but it isn't overpowering enough. I guess part of it is because they're my best friends, for which I'm more than relieved. I can't imagine having to share Stella with anyone outside of my circle.

"You guys are lucky enough that there are no CCTVs in here and outside." Heeseung comments with a tinge of sternness, his sharp eyes are darting around the room.

"Are you done?" Riki grumbles as he tugs at Sunoo's top, a scowl etches on his face when the latter doesn't deter as he remains hugging and giving kisses all over Stella's face. "Go away. I want to greet my girlfriend."

"You mean our girlfriend." Jungwon corrects Riki with a glare, who is standing not too far from them.

I watch as the three of them bicker amongst themselves, Stella's eyes darting between them, confused yet amused by the sight.

"Kids." Jake chuckles as he shakes his head with his hands in his pockets.

"You do realise that we're not that older than them?" Sunghoon deadpans.

"Let them have their moment." Heeseung tells us as we continue to watch them, noticing that Riki has Stella in his possession, giving her pecks on the lips, which has her smiling, and her smile goes wider with each kiss she receives from him.

"I have something to tell you guys," I say, but my eyes remain on Stella, who is now standing with Jungwon back-hugging her. His chin rests on her right shoulder, and his arms are wrapped securely around her waist, as though he never wants to let go. She beams with giggles each time Jungwon gives her kisses on the side of her neck and whispers in her ears while a smirk is drawn on his lips, purposely distracting her from conversing with Riki and Sunoo.

"What is it?" Heeseung's voice compels me to tear my gaze away from them.

"But you guys have to keep this from Stella." My voice drops to a murmur, prompting them to come closer to me. "It's about my cousin."

Sunghoon raises his thick eyebrow at me, seeming to be intrigued. "Cousin?"

"She's definitely not good news." I feel a pulse in my jaw at the thought of the red head. My eyes shift to meet Jake's. "You probably know her. Jennifer Huh."

At first, Jake looks confused, but recognition soon flickers in his gaze. Although Jake and Jennifer have never exactly met, let alone interacted, I've always confided in him about my disgruntlement towards her back then.

With a sigh, I begin to reveal to them what really happened, and it is up to them to perceive whether or not Jennifer is a threat to us.

Every Friday on a race week, we are granted one-hour of free practice sessions on track for testing and optimising the car's setup as part of the procedure to prepare us for the qualifying sets, which happen on a Saturday.

Presently, my mind and my hands are in autopilot as they operate the functions adequately, while my eyes are hardened with resolution and sheer tenacity courses through my vein, knowing that I must prevail over my competitors despite this being a practice.

As soon as I cross the line, it marks my thirty laps. So far Aston Martin has done a great job at servicing and refuelling back then for a pit stop. However, despite its top condition, I can't seem to overtake Heeseung and Riki, who are ahead of me.

My hands on the steering wheel tighten before I decide to increase the speed, although my prior speed has already proven how hazardous it is to someone who doesn’t understand our sport. I mean, Formula One is deemed a dangerous sport after all. But the danger is part of the thrill, which I relish.

A smirk is drawn across my lips, which is hidden by my helmet, as soon as I manage to overtake Riki. But I can't allow my temporary victory to distract me, as Heeseung is ahead of me, and he's going fast. I have a feeling that it is impossible for me to catch up to him, and it is.

Alas, after more laps, we have come to an end, with Heeseung being the first while I am second. Fortunately, this is only practice, or else I'll wallow in disappointment and shame. Yes, there are more Grand Prix to come, which will be held in other countries, but the desire to win this Grand Prix is strong, especially when I want to prove to my father that I'm great at my job, considering that I've gotten some intel that he would be watching the race by the sidelines on Sunday.

As soon as I exit the vehicle, I remove my helmet and adjust my dishevelled hair. Steven, our team principle, approaches me with a fatherly grin and pats me firmly on the shoulder, delivering his remarks and praise to me about my performance. It isn’t long enough before my eyes instantly latch onto a familiar figure as she approaches us since Steven has called for her.

I don't bother listening to what Steven is speaking enthusiastically about, as I am too enthralled by the sight of my gorgeous girlfriend, who is kindly entertaining Steven with a small, polite smile. My eyes begin to rake shamelessly over her figure. She is clad in high-waisted denim jeans and a white, tight top with a denim jacket.

My eyes return to her animated face. It's not just her outfit; it's how she looks more glowing than the last time I saw her, which was yesterday. A healthy glow. Maybe it's because she's now happier with us.

"That was a great performance, Jungwon." Stella's voice pulls me out of the trance. Since Steven is still with us, we ought to be careful with how we interact with each other, not wanting to give away hints about our relationship.

"Thank you." I reciprocate the professionalism, wearing a broad smile to which I see a spark of emotion in her pretty eyes.

I force myself to look away from her captivating eyes and look at Steven. "I'll be heading for some refreshments." I inform him before turning my back on them. Oh, how close I was to pulling her towards me and kissing her senselessly with the way she looked at me.

Well, at least I score a point for self-control.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

By the time I reach Stella's apartment, it is nearly five thirty. A chuckle leaves my lips as I recall yesterday's interesting event where my best friends and I got into a feud, all because we wanted to be the ones who would be driving Stella to dinner at Hwang Minjun's crib. In the end, we were reprimanded by Stella and begrudgingly played a game of rock, paper, scissors. It is blatantly obvious who the winner is.

After pressing on the doorbell, I hear rushed footsteps from the inside before the door swings open, revealing Stella, who appears in a rush with light pants, leaving her lips. "Sorry, I know that I should have already been ready, but I was preoccupied with something."

But her words fall deaf to my ears as my eyes widen by the tiniest fraction at the gorgeous sight of her in a white laced ruched bust dress with the length reaching above her thighs, revealing her slim, slender legs. Her raven hair looks dishevelled, but she still manages to look gorgeous.

"I'm just going to leave the door open for you." The impatience in Stella's voice snaps me out of the trance.

"Wait─" But she has already fled from me, causing me to shake my head before I invite myself to enter her home, not forgetting to close the door.

The familiar scented candle feels comforting to me, akin to how her scent makes me feel as I amble further into her apartment. For a second, my mind drifts off to a future where Stella and I are living under one roof as a married couple, and coming home to her favourite scented candle pervading our home.

My heart warms at the thought of it, and there is a fuzzy feeling in my tummy before the sound of her footsteps approaching me draws my attention to her, who has neatly combed her hair.

"Now I'm ready." She exhales, seeming to relax every tension in her body before she meets my attentive gaze, her cheeks flushed in pink as she appears bashful with a small smile playing on her pink lips. "Hi." She greets me softly.

My heart nearly combusts at how adorable she can be. "Hey, doll." I reciprocate, grabbing her hand and pulling her towards me, my hand ascending to cradle her delicate face. "I've missed you."

"But you've just seen me yesterday." She makes a face at me, eliciting a chuckle from me.

"Yeah, but I never really got to be with you alone, just like this." I murmur, my eyes zeroing in on her kissable lips. I decide to challenge myself with how long I can control myself around her, including forcing myself not to kiss her.

Her gaze softens. "I've missed you too, Wonie." She leans with the intention of aiming a kiss on my lips, but I turn my head sideways, allowing her lips to peck my cheek instead. She withdraws from me; the apparent confusion and displeasure are written across her face with a frown. "Why did you avoid my lips?"

"Technically, I didn’t since you did kiss me on the cheek." I retort, suddenly wanting to tease her instead of focusing on my self-control, as I find great amusement in her endearing reaction.

"Uh, yeah, you just did." She lets out a huff. "If you don't want to kiss me, then you can just say it."

"I don't want to kiss you." I say calmly, holding myself back from laughing as she gasps at me, clearly taking offence.

"You take that back." She shoots me a scowl.

A lazy smirk touches my lips. "No."

"Jungwon." She whines, her hand tugging at the hem of my top. "Enough teasing me."

"I'm not." I turn my back on her. "Come, or else we'll be late."

But she takes me by surprise when her hands slither around my waist, causing my breath to catch in my throat, especially when she presses herself into my back, allowing me to feel the flesh of her breasts. A muscle jumps in my jaw while I fight against my demons that are taunting me to cave in.

"You're being mean, Wonie." I can feel her chin resting on my shoulder while her arms tighten around my waist.

I swallow harshly, still remaining frozen. "Stella─"

"Kiss me, Wonie." The way she speaks is close to a seductive lull, despite how innocent she sounds. My heart begins to pound harder against my chest the moment her palms start to feel my abdominal muscles, the only barrier is my black top. "Didn’t you say you missed me?"

"Beg." My demand is uttered with such calmness, despite the raging storms within me. "If you want me to kiss you, beg for it, doll."

"Please." She complies, and her lips begin to touch my clothed shoulder before trailing kisses to the side of my neck. "Please kiss me."

Something snaps inside of me—something so primal that it shocks me. In a matter of seconds, I have her hoist on the dining table, prompting her to sit as I stand between her parted legs. My hand latches onto her nape to pull her towards me as I slam my lips on hers.

If she wants a kiss so desperately, she will get it.

I kiss her as though I'm punishing her. I kiss her the way she wants it ─ desperate, messy, and, above all, a kiss that has her gasp cutely and moan into my mouth. I don't relent, kissing her with such fervour that she attempts to close her legs, but I'm a hindrance.

My teeth bite down on her bottom lip, hard enough to elicit a whimper from her as I playfully pull it slowly before resuming kissing her senselessly with my hands all over her exquisite contours. Her hands are underneath my black top, feeling my abs with her nails grazing against them, sending shivers down my spine.

We continue to make out like two hormonal teenagers, with her grinding her core against my hardened one. It takes me every ounce of self-control to take her right here and now, especially when we are already running late.

With reluctance, I withdraw from her. As my gaze settles on her face, I take notice of how ruined her lips are with the lipstick smeared out of the lining and how swollen and moist they are. But my lips curve into a smirk, taking pride in how I manage to render her breathless and needy with how she gazes at me.

"Watermelon. That's new." I comment, gripping her chin while my thumb brushes sensually across her bottom lip as it puckers. "But I prefer cherry on you."

Stella scoffs playfully at me before tapping my chest, to which I receive her message and assist her to stand on her feet, but for a moment, she goes unstable, prompting me to step forward and hold her.

"You okay?" I ask, feeling concerned by how she appears slightly off-colour for a brief moment.

"I'm fine. I got dizzy for a minute." She insists, giving me a smile that instantly eases my worry. "Come on, let's get going, or else I'll be receiving an earful from my siblings about my tardiness."

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Just earlier, Stella and I had been engaging in playful yet flirtatious banter before we decided to enjoy the rest of the ride to Minjun's crib in total yet comfortable silence.

Instinctively, I grab her hand to interlace our fingers and rest them on top of my thigh while my gaze never goes astray from the busy road ahead and the other hand latches on the steering wheel. I take a glance at my phone at the side, which shows the GPS and checks the time. There is no doubt that we'll be late.

"Hey, Jungwon?"

"Yeah?" I reply, still focusing on the road, before I steer the wheel to the right, now entering the street to Minjun's crib.

"Never mind." Her resignation intrigues me greatly, and I find myself increasing the speed just slightly before deceleration as we finally approach a two-story modern architecture house painted white.

After I pull over by the curb, I switch off the music and turn off the ignition before tilting my body to face her with my intent gaze settling on her face. "Tell me, doll."

"It's nothing important." She shakes her head as she unbuckles her seatbelt, her refusal to look at me bothers me, prompting me to lock the door, which she attempts to open again and again, huffing out and glaring at me.

I remain undeterred. "I'm not unlocking it unless you tell me what is wrong."

Stella eventually surrenders, heaving a sigh, before her eyes search for mine. "What do you think of marriage?"

I raise my eyebrow at her, finding it odd that she brought up such a topic when I had been thinking about it earlier. "Why the sudden question?"

"It's just that," She pauses, lowering her head while her silence of hesitation is loud. "What if I tell you that I'm ready to settle down?"

"Settle down?" My mind is like a blur, suddenly not possessing the ability to understand what she meant.

She returns her gaze to mine, and this time, there is sheer resolution in her eyes. "I want to be together with you for good this time."

"But we are together." I say, frowning while my grip on our interlaced fingers tightens. "What ever do you mean, doll?"

Stella groans loudly before burying her face in her palm. "You idiot. It means that I want to get married to you." Although her voice sounds a tad muffled with her face buried in her palm, my head finally registers her words, causing my eyes to widen.

"Are you serious?" Amidst the shock, the felicity is apparent in my demeanour. "But what about your career? And by marriage, do you also mean that you want to tie the knot with the seven of us? If so, then how are we going to make that happen?" I begin to ramble, thoughts after thoughts jumbled in my mind, but above all, I'm worried for her.

Stella takes me by surprise when she leans in to silence me by kissing me sweetly, and before I can savour the taste of her lips, she withdraws from me. A soft grin etches on her face. "I've already talked about it with Jay yesterday." She says softly. "We've already planned it out. But for now, let's not stress ourselves out too much, okay?"

I nod my head before raising our interlaced fingers to my lips and giving the back of her hand a kiss. "It's like you read my mind about it." I murmur, my gaze softening at her. "Because, doll, I have long since been dreaming of the day where we tie the knots."

Her cheeks are coloured pink. "You've dreamt about marrying me?"

A lazy smirk is drawn across my lips. "I've dreamed many things about you. You're my wildest dream, doll."

A smile graces her pink lips while her eyes gaze at me with such fondness. "I love you, Jungwon."

I give her another peck on the back of her hand, reciprocating the sentiment in her gaze. "I love you more than you'll ever know, Stella."

Just when we are about to relish in the sweet comfort of our silence, a knock on the window startles us, followed by a loud voice, prompting us to look at the side of my window just to see someone familiar.

"That's enough, lovebirds!" Riki knocks again while some can be seen exiting their vehicles, and some have long since reached as they are situated nearby the porch.

Stella and I look at each other with our eyes blinking before we break into a fit of chuckles. "Don't mind him." I chuckle, leaning forward to peck her smiling lips.

"Oi! No kissing her in front of me!" Riki knocks again.

As I kiss her again, I raise my hand with a middle finger shown to him without facing him.

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#enhypen #enhypen poly #jake #heeseung #sunoo #jungwon #ni-ki #sunghoon #jay #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen as f1 drivers

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cuckoo-on-a-string · 10 months

Text

Hello, Mr. Monster (Six. Somnolence)

Summary: Eros and Psyche inspired Soulmate!AU, Morpheus x female OC/reader

Masterlist

Chapter warnings: trauma, A/N: This is literally half of what I planned on for this chapter. Soooo. Yeah. One of the teasers for this chapter applies to chapter seven, lol. But the wait will be worth it! Thank all of you who've stuck around. <3 You are all dears and deserve big cups of tea and cuddles. Dream’s creations brought him stories.

6: Somnolence

They groveled before his throne by the dozen, sharing tales of the child Aisling – in need, protected by his arcana as she moved through the mortal plane, jetsam in the wake of a better life she should’ve lived. Hundreds more, many of them nightmares, told epics of the woman Aisling – tearing their anchors from the dreams of innocent mortals, protecting the most fragile dreams from harsh reality in quiet corners of the world where fantasy still thrived.

His creations brought these stories to trade for forgiveness the subject of their tales had already secured. Only a few shared their memories because they cared for her. They wanted their lord to see her as they’d found her, and how could the Prince of Stories not love a timely hero in a grand tale?

Some told him what they thought he needed to know. Facts about the mortal with his name and power etched in her soul.

He had his own story, one of a cage and a strange woman with true sight and curious magic. A woman who looked too hard at all the wrong things and freed him without promise or threat.

When he first saw her from his prison, when his restraints shattered and he could see properly for the first time in over a century, hope and loss nearly consumed him. He’d been aware of the place in his essence where a mark might grow before Earth gathered into a planet. Every time he fell in love, he waited for the name to appear. Trapped in his glass prison, cut off from anything that made him more than a fragile facsimile of a human shape, he hadn’t felt anything fill the empty space. He lacked the awareness.

How had he imagined meeting a soulmate? Not like that. Not as that – a nameless monster in a cage. She fled the moment she found him, and he imagined he could see Nada’s footprints in the sand as his true soulmate’s steps echoed over stone.

Perhaps it was for the best. The quaint hell of Burgess’s basement was no place for introductions, and he brought all his bereaved fury to bear in his escape. Even as he found his freedom, he found yet another treasure the magus and his son had stolen from him.

She had been hurt. Badly. And he had not been there. If Alexander Burgess hadn’t already earned his punishment, seeing the crude letters cut into Aisling Hunt’s heart over her own mark clinched his doom.

When she finally slept, he showed himself as everything he was not upon their first meeting. Her clever eyes, blinded by fear and expectation, did not see him. Did not know him.

Though he ached to be with her since the moment he truly saw her, though he yearned to repay her for ending his captivity, a hundred years of helplessness festered like a dark canker in the depths of his passion.

When she did not recognize him in that first dream, he did not rush to correct her ignorance. He welcomed it, and with her oblivious naivety, he took control. In the second dream, it was even intentional. So long as she did not know him, he was… safe. So was she. Or he liked to believe so. Safe from fear and confusion at the clear weft of their wyrds knotting them together through actions she believed entirely her own.

But now she knew him.

She’d seen his face, and the budding trust he’d savored as she came apart under his hands and tongue shattered like the finest glass. He imagined it like shards coursing through her blood. He’d seen as much in her eyes as she looked up from the hand of her captors, brought in silken chains to her monster, the entity she’d readily freed from Fawney Rig. Her growing faith, possibly even affection, cut her from the inside out, glittering in her eyes as she fought against the pain his face brought her.

Once again, he was shown to her as a monster, as a frightful king who might accept such a gift from the unseelie court. His lip curled at the thought.

He could not bear it. Though the two parts of him stood at war – the lover and the wounded king – neither exalted in her fear. Deep within, the mark cut him, too. Soothing her pain when she fell into his hands in their first dream together was far from selfless.

He wanted to chart her, like a star-filled sky, or an endless ocean reflecting those stars. He could sense the elements in her, the base reality of every living thing bound up in her tattered mortality. Wildfires and oceans. Sweeping winds and green fields.

And beyond that? She’d done more with the powers the fae cursed her with than he would’ve thought to ask. A touch of eternity beyond anything human tangled so deep in her soul he could never take it back, not without killing her.

He wanted to do terrible things. To pluck out her heart and wear it in a locket, sundering her from the waking world forever. To wrap her up in splendid charms and spells to make her forget anything she might miss outside the bounds of the Dreaming. To pull her deeper and deeper into himself until they were truly one, until she became a part of every aspect, even if it would destroy her. His desire ached to maul her in some way, to sate his hunger and leave a mark even mortal eyes could see.

At the same time, he’d gladly hand his nightmares the broken remains of any other – mortal, god, or angel – who threatened so much as the ease of her smile.

He yearned for her entirely, and he was not all light.

She felt so right in his grasp when he caught her up in the throne room. safe at last in the circle of his arms. But he was not free to hold her. He required her permission, her clear consent, a reciprocal yearning in word and deed, and until he had that, he must prove himself. He could not fail her again.

And so Lord Morpheus, dread King of Nightmares and ruler of the Dreaming slouched low in his seat, watching Aisling Hunt breathe, at rest in the perfect silence of oblivion as he waited at her side.

He hadn’t brought her to the rooms he began crafting as he rebuilt his kingdom from ruins. The bed was no less grand, the space fit for a goddess, but it was a thoughtless grandeur. Perhaps it was selfish, but he did not want her fear to spoil the joy he’d hoped she’d find… in her home. He did not want her first memories there to echo with terror and doubt.

“My lord?”

Lucienne hesitated in the doorway, hands clasped behind her back and brow furrowed with care. Though he wanted to close the doors and keep these quiet moments entirely for his own, his librarian had been the one to remind him of his soulmate’s fragility, and although she often provided insights he did not like, they were all the more invaluable for his distaste.

“I do not know what to do.” He looked from his love to his librarian, nearly as lost as he’d been when he first returned from his imprisonment, sitting below a throne governing nothing but broken glass and crumbled stone. Then he’d had a course to follow, a realm to repair, even if he hadn’t known where to begin. “There is no quest to fulfill. No correction to make. She is not even mine to repair, even where I am at fault.”

His former raven watched, shifting in place, but never taking her eyes from her master and the mortal he would love.

“Perhaps…” She paused, and Morpheus looked to her searchingly, grasping for hope in the wake of this latest failure. Taking it permission, she continued delicately, handling her ruler like the delicate pages of the library’s oldest tomes. “Perhaps a king is not what she needs at this time.”

He already knew that, but he could not accept it.

“Is my name not carved on her heart?”

“Morpheus, my lord.” Lucienne offered the correction like a balm to a blistered wound. “Not Dream of the Endless. You assume you know what her reaction will be when she wakes, but how can you predict someone you barely know? She knows even less of you, and I’m sure she has plenty of assumptions.”

He bristled. He already knew her, as he knew all dreamers. The facts of her life flowed through the Dreaming, but he only understood them as a mortal would know printed words on a page. They’d shared precious little time. Three dreams.

Would she ever trust him like that again, or had he lost her entirely in his carelessness?

He didn’t wish to agree with his librarian’s suggestion, but he had no ideas of his own, and he would not fail his little hero once again. Could not.

“What do you suggest, then?”

Drawing herself up, Lucienne unclasped her hands and folded them anew in the front, clearly itching for a book or ledger to occupy herself. “I don’t know her any better than you do, sire, but there are some who do. Why not… invite them to share their insights?”

Morpheus closed his eyes, calling to mind the many subjects who flocked to offer pieces of Aisling’s story. Most clasped nothing but small gems, scattered fragments of a grander jewel. But the ones she called friend, that walked the Waking world beside her…

He opened his eyes and looked through the Dreaming, reaching to the shores of Nightmare, where a beast with pretty manners turned at his call.

“Fine Gentleman. I summon you. Come to me.”

The nightmare followed his order, appearing in the room at the foot of Aisling’s bed as the shape of the realm bent to accommodate Dream’s will. Despite his decades in the Waking world, the nightmare had taken up his old duties admirably, and Dream expected Fin, as so many called him, would return the loyalty Aisling had shown him. She risked her freedom to safeguard the nightmare’s path home, after all.

Fin knelt, bowing to his king, but his eyes flicked to the bed, and Dream dismissed his respects. “Rise. You have leave to speak. There are answers I would have of you.”

The nightmare didn’t need to be told twice. Back on his feet, he gingerly touched the edge of the blue coverlet, and asked, “It’s true? The unseelie, they – Is she alright?”

“In body, yes.” Lucienne approached the far side of the bed, closing a semicircle around the sleeping mortal who’d caused so much concern. “But she had an attack of some kind, and none of us are sure what to expect when she wakes. Perhaps you have some experience with similar episodes?”

“I do.” The nightmare kept his attention on Lucienne and his hand a few inches from Aisling’s feet. History and affection bound them closer than oaths and debts. Rot green ghosted through Dream’s thoughts, and he wrestled the specter away as the nightmare explained. “She hasn’t had one in a long time, but she used to have panic attacks when she was younger. Bad ones.”

“And how did she treat them?” Morpheus demanded his creation’s attention. It would do the nightmare well to remember whose soulmate he’d been called to aid. It would do him well to remember his king.

Nothing of the beast faced the King of Dreams, only the gentleman, and though he kept his head down, his gaze fixed on Morpheus with iron determination.

“My lord, I have a suggestion you won’t like.”

There was much in the past hours Morpheus had not liked. He’d cut his throat to ease her thirst if need be or burn every star in the Dreaming’s sky to keep her warm. Sitting up in his chair, he prepared himself to bleed.

“What is it? What does she need of me?”

The nightmare didn’t hesitate. Didn’t flinch.

“Your distance, sire.”

Morpheus recalled the scene in the great hall. His destined soulmate. Alone, collapsing on his throne room floor, shaking and afraid. He wouldn’t have it.

“I will not leave her. She will not be alone.”

Her friend, the nightmare, shook his head. “She wouldn’t be alone. Any of us she knows could stay and mind her, but…”

Ah. Morpheus sat back in his seat, expression cooling as he realized they had only just reached the part of the suggestion he would not like.

“Speak.”

The nightmare took a deep breath, set his shoulders, and forged ahead like a soldier facing down a dragon.

“She was never afraid of you because you were powerful. She lived in fear that you’d take her choice.”

He gave his king a moment to consider the revelation, though even in his brief acquaintance, Morpheus had learned that much. But it was only a reminder, and he spooled out deeper knowledge like a bandage he could pull his friend together with.

“When she wakes up,” he said, “she’ll need to feel in control. Even in the Waking she took space for herself – to find the truth, redraw the borders around what she’d chosen and what she’d been told to choose. The greatest gifts you can give her are time and space.”

Drawing his hand back, letting his fingers drag over the covers, the nightmare bowed. Morpheus read more than respect in his creation’s bent spine. This was the obeisance of a supplicant, one begging for grace rather than offering fealty.

“She’s resilient, but give her a chance to find her feet before you ask her to be brave again.”

Dream of the Endless did not smile down on his creation. The nightmare had been right. He did not like this plan at all, but he had asked, and the nightmare spoke truly. As a true friend.

Loathe as he was to banish himself, he would abide by the counsel of one who knew his soulmate well in the hope that he, too, may someday be allowed to know her.

“Very well.” He rose, and the chair crumbled to sand. “You and those of your choosing will serve as companions, guides, aides. The One Beneath will guard her.”

The nightmare took his orders and departed to gather his fellows. Lucienne waited for her lord, offering him silent company and support as he pulled himself from his little hero’s side.

He craved her faith. Her willing trust and all that would follow. It seemed, however, that he must first give her his own.

“When she is ready, she will come to me.”

.O.O.O.

She roused from the dreamless ocean to meet a crush of memories.

The fae delivered her. Morpheus took her. And now she woke in a bed she didn’t recognize.

He’d watched as the fae threatened to strip her of her own mind. And he’d – he’d always been –

She ripped the sheets back and fought her way off the plush mattress. Not awake enough to land on her feet, she fell to all fours, and the impact jarred her knees, sparked little agonies up her wrists. She dropped flat, belly-down beside the impossibly soft sheets and a blanket that looked like rolling waves caught the threads. She looked at the wonderous bedding with dull eyes. Then closed them, so she wouldn’t have to.

Everything here was his. Even… even she was. Now. Maybe.

She hated every beautiful thing in the room, but she hated herself more.

It was her fault. She let herself believe she was safe, and she paid in flesh and scars.

How many years of her life would she voluntarily trade to the fae to erase the past… however long they kept her, from the moment she passed through the mirror til now? And how long was that? Did she sleep for a few hours? Days? Had the Waking world seen a hundred years as her monster bundled her up in his castle?

Her breath caught like a sleeve on a doorknob, sudden and jarring.

It hadn’t really happened.

It had.

He’d promised her he wouldn’t steal her away or exploit what she offered. He helped with her pain and brought her pleasure, and she’d –

A cold hand with scabby skin and broken nails wrapped around her fingers.

She didn’t need to open her eyes to recognize Jeff.

She rubbed her thumb along an exposed tendon to assure him she was alive, and he squeezed back to prove he was listening, that he had her, that he would stay. That everything was alright and nothing truly terrible had happened as she slept.

That all was still as she remembered.

Despite what she’d seen.

Maybe it meant something that her monster let her oldest friend comfort her instead of demanding the burden of care himself.

But if the first promises had been lies, and his excuses for the mask must’ve been, then she couldn’t trust any peace offerings, either.

The nightmare held her hand, but he couldn’t ground her. She refused to settle in her skin. She knew what would happen when she did. Whole people wore skin – filled with pain, and regret, and longing. Nothing hurt more than that.

She’d been here before. Not on this floor, in this plane, within her monster’s domain. But a floor, and in the end, polished marble or scratchy, threadbare carpet, it didn’t matter once she landed. A floor was a floor. She became hollow enough to forget she was alive, bleeding from a war no one else could see or save her from.

She had to get up. Had to move. Had to save herself. No one else could, not even Jeff, or Fin, or Gault, or

– Morpheus.

The floor had warmed under her cheek, proof of a beating heart she didn’t want to feel, and she turned to press the other side of her face to a new, cooler patch of marble. Maybe the stone floor could leach enough heat to freeze her mind. Numb it. So she could forget.

Forget his face. His expression when she broke the seal in the basement of Fawney Rig and the way he looked down from his throne as the pansy swung above her eyes.

Forget his careful, beautiful hands, and how it felt to dissolve with him between the stars.

Forget the smell of earth. The feel of claws. Of spider silk… The dress. She was still wearing the damn dress.

Inspiration couldn’t lift her from the floor, but fear and disgust launched her upright as she sank her fingernails into the delicate lace and pulled.

The left sleeve tore from her shoulder like tissue paper. Just as it was meant to. A pretty thing for her soulmate to rip off her body. Titillating scraps of fabric that wouldn’t impede a lover. That offered even less protection than she’d thought.

She froze again. Her breath caught on a lump in her throat as visions of another destiny crept like a snake through her thoughts. One where the graceful fingers she was coming to adore destroyed the dress. Where she’d lost herself entirely. Where her monster became everything she feared.

She blinked furiously. Her wet eyelashes stuck together. The air in her lungs turned thick with agony she wouldn’t voice, and the elegant room turned to a blur as she crashed to her knees, clutching her arms close to keep from shaking apart. To protect herself. To hide the body the fae tortured into gleaming perfection for a monster’s pleasure.

She wanted the dress off.

She couldn’t stomach the thought of baring any more skin.

She couldn’t think beyond the tearing pain in her chest.

This is what came of leaving the floor and becoming a person again.

Hands cut through the fog, urgently curling around her shoulders. She jerked back, shouting wordless protest, and a voice reached out to find her where the hands could not reach.

“Aisling, you’re safe. We’re here. Can you hear me?” The voice plucked on memories. Dust and sunshine and green stains on her skin from cheap jewelry stewing in sweat.

“Gwen?” She only realized she’d asked when she heard her own voice. It didn’t feel right. Nothing felt right.

“Yes.” A smile behind hands offered in support, palms up, begging to be accepted. “It’s just me and Jeff. Can I – Are you…” The dream looked her like she was holding a knife to her lover’s throat. “Can you tell me what you need?”

No. She really couldn’t. It wasn’t safe, and she didn’t know.

But the fucking dress…

She pulled at the fabric. Carefully. Trying to express herself as words failed to coalesce.

“I want it off. I feel…”

She felt like she needed to scrape her skin off all over again, but even in her confusion, she knew Gwen wouldn’t help that far.

But Gwen knew her, and Gwen knew how to listen, even when dreamers struggled to speak. “I’ll draw a bath and find you something to wear.”

Aisling knelt where she’d landed and swallowed down rising bile. Even she forgot, on her better days, how physically painful fear could be. Jeff took her ankle, so she knew she wasn’t alone as Gwen swept out of sight to do as she’d promised. Her most loyal nightmare.

She didn’t mean to scare him.

Her chest ached with an old burn, and she knew she couldn’t turn to the same cure that soothed it last time.

Gwen returned swiftly, before Aisling even had time to miss her, offering her soft hands again for her friend to accept.

She still couldn’t stand the idea. Jeff was different. Jeff needed the comfort as much as she did, and there was no mistaking his hand for anyone else’s.

She found her feet on her own, still hugging herself, eyes on the floor. Her stomach ached. Her skin crawled under the sticky lace. As she followed Gwen into a side chamber, she couldn’t help noticing the view outside the great, arched windows. A whole world stretched beyond the glass – worlds upon worlds, even.

Her ordeal wasn’t over.

She couldn’t just jump in her van and leave the Dreaming. Boundless as the fears and fantasies of every living thing, aware of her presence as its monarch, it would hold her until he gave her permission to leave. As she walked through her – ostensibly – private rooms, she might as well be sitting in her monster’s palm again.

Gwen showed her to a sunken tub behind a screen, an indoor pond that scented the air with clouds of lavender. An indistinct set of clothes sat on a low table beside a stack of towels, and a small collection of soaps and bottles stood within reach of the water.

Gwen wrung her hands, fighting to smile. “Would you like help? I can wait outside if you prefer.”

“I’ll be fine on my own. Thanks.” Getting the dress off would end in a fit. Big, ugly tears and hacking sobs. She just knew it. She couldn’t stomach someone sitting beside her, trying to comfort her as she came to terms with everything the fae had done.

She had to wash this new skin alone. She needed to mourn. She needed to figure out which way to swim before she drowned in aimless grief, and worrying what she looked like or how she made a loved one feel would only pull her deeper. Fortunately, Gwen understood.

Her friend left. She stood alone in the opulent ensuite, pulling apart what was meant to be her dreaded wedding gown, trembling as she tried shielding herself from eyes that simply weren’t there.

She took her bleeding heart into the bath, and the warm water tried to swallow her pain. Washing and scrubbing until she couldn’t feel the faeries’ touch under her raw flesh brought a little relief, but missed her scars. The little marks on her fingers from careless accidents in the kitchen, places she cut for spell work, and a hundred incidental bumps and nicks. It looked alien now. Too smooth. Perfect in a way even a birth-bruised baby’s wasn’t. Her true sight detected residual magic that wouldn’t fade in her lifetime from the unicorn’s horn. It made her beautiful. The kind of beauty she could use as a weapon if she wanted. If she was dealing with a lesser creature than an Endless.

When her cuticles bled, she gave up trying to erase the potion’s effects.

And she cried.

She cried so much she was surprised the water level didn’t rise. The bath stayed hot and fresh as she tried flaying herself, and she wondered if had some secret healing power. Hardly shocking, all things considered, but she wished it was plain water she could turn pink with her human blood.

She stayed too long, cleaning her hair, her face, the spaces between her toes. Her intention worked the scrubbing into a ritual. Not all the magic would leave, but she banished the traces of her captors’ essence. She peeled away their staring eyes and casual violence.

She was her own self, and she would make it so.

At last, cleansed in body if not in mind, she climbed out and began the process of becoming a whole person again, with feelings and all. Feelings, and legs, and wet hair.

The towels were so soft she nearly cried again, but she felt ridiculous enough to sniffle down her hysterics and start getting dressed. Gwen had brought something like elegant loungewear. Better than any sweatpants or old t-shirt, they draped around her without clinging or threatening to fall off. Comfortable. Woven from some fabric she’d never touched before but maybe dreamed of, like the plush toy she slept with as a child and the silky ripple of a stream over her fingers. A shawl waited at the bottom of the stack, and she pulled the extra shield around her shoulders like armor. Everything fit. Nothing pinched, or chafed. It couldn’t be the most attractive ensemble, but it felt like a promise. Reassurance stitched into the loose fit that covered her so well.

It wasn’t for display. She wasn’t for display. It was consideration. Patience. A tender embrace offered from a safe distance.

And she was beginning to doubt Gwen had chosen these clothes at all.

She shivered, pulling the shawl tight across her chest, and returned to the bedroom. Gwen rose, uncertain but ready for anything. Aisling waved her down.

“I still… I’m going on a walk.” The world beyond the windows was all Dream’s, but she needed an open sky and a breeze on her face. The screaming child in the back of her head wailed the polished marble felt like raw slate and the close air smelled like soil and mildew. It didn’t, but she wanted to break the association before it took root.

Twisting her hands again, Gwen nodded, and Aisling didn’t wait for someone to tell her she wasn’t allowed, or that she really needed to stop and put on shoes, or that she should act like a delicate lady and keep to the garden. Better to ask forgiveness than permission.

So many of her friends told her stories about the Dreaming. She wanted to love it.

She would outrun her fear, literally if she had to.

#morpheus x reader #morpheus x oc #morpheus x original character #sandman x reader #sandman x oc #dream of the endless x oc #dream of the endless x original character #dream of the endless x reader #fic: hello mr. monster #soulmate!au

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homomenhommes · 3 months

Text

saga: SOUMISSION / DOMINATION 117

Mardi, Marc à sa journée.

Nous passons la matinée au lit entre caresses, mamours et somnolence. Trop bon !!

Au déjeuner, nous discutons du comportement d'Emma. Je lui dis que j'ai l'impression d'être un mélange d'amant, escort-boy et du fils qu'elle n'a pas eu. Il est d'accord avec moi et ajoute que je ne me suis pas trompé vu la fortune de ma nouvelle " mère ". Je ne me vexe pas car je n'ai pas été la chercher et puis il n'est pas dit que cela dure des années ;encore. Je serais peu être un jour remplacé.

Jimmy débarque tout prêt à 14h. Je lui fais confiance et nous partons aussitôt pour sa prestation. Heureusement le mec chez qui on va est plutôt du genre expéditif. Nous serons de retour dans 2 heures trajets compris. Quand il s'est déshabillé, j'ai pu constater qu'effectivement il s'était bien préparé, son trou arborant le pied d'un plug. Pas de fioriture avec ce client. On arrive, il bande dès que Jimmy est nu. Ce dernier s'installe la tête au fond du canapé, à genoux sur le bord, les fesses en l'air. Le mec le dé-plug et s'enfonce direct dans son cul. 1/4 d'heure à 1/2 heure après, le mec a rempli sa kpote et j'attends Jimmy qui a quand même droit à une douche. Avec ce mec, la séance dure maxi 3/4 d'heure. Heureusement que nous sommes au forfait et pas à l'heure !

Retour à la maison en milieu d'après midi.

Comme j'ai installé mon bureau dans le sien, nous travaillons ensemble, Marc et moi, chacun de son coté, jusqu'en début de soirée.

Nous descendons à la salle de muscu nous détendre. Une heure et demie après, nous sommes fatigués. Sous les douches, après nous être lavés, ;nous nous massons, caressons respectivement nos muscles rebondis par les exercices. Après nous être séchés, nous nous hydratons la peau. A la fin, nous bandons tous les deux. Nous glissons sur les tatamis pour nous embrasser et continuer nos caresses. Doucement, je le pousse sur le dos. A genoux à ses cotés, j'explore son corps avec ma bouche. De son visage, je glisse sur son torse, embrasse ses épaules, lèche ses pecs puis suce ses tétons. Ils gonflent sous ma langue. Je les quitte pour descendre plus bas. Le nombril me distrait quelques minutes mais pas plus, pas très érogène comme zone ! De plus son gland gène son accès dès qu'il bande un tant soit peu, ce qui est le cas. Donc pas de déplacement pour attaquer le morceau. La joue posée sur ses abdos, je travaille son gland et uniquement lui. Léchages, mordillements, succions, je ne cesse de l'exciter que lorsque Marc est sur le point de jouir. Puis je recommence dès que la pression est retombée. Il finit par ne plus tenir et poussant sur ma tête, enfonce sa bite dans ma gorge jusqu'à ce que mes dents entourent sa base. Il m'étouffe mais je crois que j'aime ça ! Il me relâche avant que réellement je manque d'oxygène mais c'est pour se mettre à " m'enculer " la bouche à grands coups de reins. Je laisse faire, je sais qu'il va bientôt s'arrêter de lui même avant de juter. Enfin la pause, mais uniquement pour ma gorge, mon cul, lui, prend la relève et, les épaules au sol, le cul relevé, je me fais saillir comme une chienne. J'aime ses coups de reins possessifs, sa façon qu'il a de me démonter la rondelle (façon qui m'excite autant que de me faire défoncer par une bite de 25cm !). Il le sait parfaitement. Il a su dès la première fois me faire jouir dix fois plus fort qu'avec une meuf. Il s'arrête soudain pour de dire d'aller sur le sling et reprend son enculage alors que les pieds coincés dans les supports j'écarte mon cul comme une salope. Ses mains sur mes pecs, triturent mes tétons. Quand il se couche pour me rouler une pelle, il m'écrase les couilles et la bite, renforçant l'excitation. C'est moi qui le premier cède et j'explose entre nos deux corps. Mon sperme tartine nos abdos. Il se redresse, empoigne mes cuisses et augmente la cadence jusqu'à me juter dedans puis ajoute ses dernières giclées aux miennes avant de revenir les étaler en se recouchant sur moi. Un patin d'1/4 d'heure plus tard, nous sommes retournés nous doucher !

Vraiment trop bon mon mec ! Juste un jock sur le sexe nous sommes remontés diner. Pendant que Marc cuisine, je passe voir Jimmy. Il me demande si nos retrouvailles se sont bien passées. Je lui demande si il a diné et de me faire voir son travail. Il me demande si nous avons besoin de lui ce soir. Sa main sur mon jock me fait bander. Du coup je le ramène à la maison. Marc m'interroge du regard, je lui dis que Jimmy avait envie de nous faire plaisir ce soir. Marc lui demande comment. Aussitôt Jimmy se place à genoux devant lui et suce son paquet. Marc, rapidement bande. Jimmy détrempe les mailles de la poche à faire durcir Marc. Sa bite distend le tissus élastique alors seulement, Jimmy écarte le bord pour libérer la " bête ". Je remarque que Jimmy utilise tout son savoir faire et pipe Marc comme un pro. Va falloir que je surveille ça de près, faudrait pas qu'il pique mon homme !! Du coup je m'approche d'eux et roule un patin à Marc. Sa langue me transmet toute l'excitation que lui procure Jimmy. Il finit par ne plus tenir et Jimmy en travers de la table se fait enculer par les 22cm de Marc quand moi je lui cloue le bec en enfonçant bien mon gland dans sa gorge. Au dessus de lui nous continuons notre pelle. J'adore faire l'amour à Marc par ptit mec interposé. Moi aussi j'ai envie d'une queue dans le cul ! Je me détourne de la bouche de Jimmy et demande à Marc de m'intercaler. Il décule et je m'engouffre dans la place libérée. Jimmy serre son anus et moule ma bite au plus près. Bien éduqué ce petit ! (lol) Marc ne met pas longtemps avant de me sodomiser. Je me détends un maximum et il m'enfile jusqu'aux couilles. Je suis le seul en mouvement, ma bascule alternant entrée dans Jimmy / sortie de Marc de mon cul avec l'inverse. Trop bon, c'est moi qui gère l'excitation du trio. Si j'accélère ou si je serre mon cul, j'augmente le pression.

Nous finissons dans cette position, je me fais doser par Marc et je jute au fond de Jimmy. Lui se répand sur son ventre.

Une fois ce dernier reparti à l'appart, j'ai de nouveau mon Marc pour moi tout seul. Les absences répétées pour son taf, nous font apprécier encore plus les moments que nous avons ensemble (même si chacun de notre coté nous ne nous ennuyons pas). Du coup nous ne nous attardons pas et rejoignons notre chambre pour nous câliner.

Mercredi,

Je vais chercher Ed, quand je sonne à la porte, ça s'ouvre aussitôt sur son jeune frère. Je reste dehors, Ed me rejoint rapidement. Nous allons chez un des nouveaux clients.

Le mec est petit, rondouillard mais arbore une bite de plus de 25cm x 6 qu'il sait très bien utiliser à 100%. C'est un doux avec qui tout se passe calmement, délicatement. Ce qui ne veut pas dire que mon poulain a le choix. Le mec sait ce qu'il veut et il l'obtient (d'autant plus qu'il paye pour cela !). Il se fait sucer pour bien bander et n'oublie pas d'aller vérifier la gorge d'Ed en s'enfonçant jusqu'aux couilles. Et comme il aime bien la sensation, il vérifie plusieurs fois. Ed est maintenant rodé et sait parfaitement régler sa respiration pour ne pas s'étouffer. Il maitrise aussi ses réflexes et n'essaye plus de régurgiter involontairement le gland qui l'envahi. Je le vois même aller de lui même ingurgiter le gros gland du mec. Bon petit ! Pendant la pipe il s'occupe du trou d'Ed. C'est un perfectionniste et il passe pas mal de temps à le préparer. Gel, doigt, gel, doigts, jusqu'à réussir à lui en mettre 4 de sa petite main droite. Il fait cela si bien qu'Ed vient tous seul se tortiller le cul dessus. Il commence à bien prendre le pli et devient accro à la bite de mec. D'accord, il m'a avoué avoir phantasmé sur les bites des étalons de son club d'équitation, et de celle non moins grosse qui déformait le jeans d'un certain Lad. Je n'ai fait que mettre à jour sa face pute/soumis qui sommeillait au fond de lui. Quand notre client le sent prêt, il lui demande de se mettre à 4 pattes. Avec son ventre proéminent, c'est la seule position qui lui permet d'enfoncer totalement sa queue au fond de son cul. Avec Jimmy, ce dernier étant beaucoup plus souple qu'Ed, il peu le prendre de face, Jimmy écartant les jambes quasi en grand écart.

Quand il est dans un cul, il aime prendre son temps. Il s'enfonce tout doucement, si lentement que parfois Ed ou Jimmy donnent des coups de cul pour que ça rentre plus vite ! Mais il maitrise et encule sa pute à la vitesse qu'il désire. Avec lui nous en avons pour l'après midi entière. Ce qu'il aime aussi c'est après un moment, déculer et revenir masser le trou examinant les parois internes en écartant l'anus avec ses deux mains. Les premières fois cela fait bizarre de le voir mater pendant 1/4 à 1/2 heure le trou qu'il vient d'élargir, mais après tout c'est son trip ! et au moins celui là est sans danger. Après cela il le ré-encule jusqu'à la jouissance. Pendant la douche de mon toy boy, nous discutons toujours un peu. C'est comme cela que j'ai deviné qu'il était avocat. Au retour, j'arrête la moto dans un chemin pour enculer Ed à mon tour. Pendant les séances de toute façon je bande continuellement. Si je ne veux pas avoir mal aux couilles pendant des heures, il faut bien que je les vide ! Et c'est meilleur dans un cul ou une bouche que dans ma main ! Sans même retirer nos casques, je baisse son jeans et ouvre ma combi juste le nécessaire pour sortir mon service trois pièces et l'enculer plié en travers de la selle. En général c'est rapide, un peu brusque mais trop bon ! En plus le risque d'être surpris renforce l'excitation. Et nous prenons tous les deux un grand plaisir à cette situation. Je le lâche devant chez lui et rentre direct à la maison.

JARDINIER

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ladamedusoif · 1 year

Text

Visiting - Chapter Four: Save Me

(Moodboard by the wonderful @cutesyscreenname)

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

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

Chapter summary: It's the morning after the night before, as the guests at Evan's Halloween party try to process his (alarmingly strong) cocktails - and Lydia tries to understand what her brain and body are trying to tell her about her feelings towards Ben.

Word Count: 3k

Rating: Explicit (18+) - from the start.

Content (chapter specific): SMUT (oral sex, f receiving; fingering); Professor Ben College AU; smaller-than-usual-for-this-fandom age gap (she is 41, about to turn 42, and Ben 47 when the story begins); canon is not a thing here; slow burn; strong language; alcohol consumption; weight and body insecurity; reference to relationship breakdown.

A/N: This chapter is shorter than usual - originally chapters 3 and 4 were going to be a single chapter but it makes more sense to separate them. Further A/Ns at the end, to avoid spoilers.

I'm not kidding when I say this is straight into smut.

The title of the chapter is inspired by Aimee Mann's song Save Me, which I've thought of as a very Lydia-coded song for a while:

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

Thanks, as ever, to @lunapascal and @julesonrecord for being so supportive and screaming along about these Beloved Dorky Idiots.

Taglist: @lunapascal, @julesonrecord, @cutesyscreenname, @tessa-quayle, @vermillionwinter, @iamskyereads, @tieronecrush, @perennialdoll247, @love-the-abyss, @imaswellkid, @intheorangebedroom, @javierisms, @readingiskeepingmegoing, @fuckyeahdindjarin, @littlemisspascal, @khindahra

“I know you have another one in you, baby. For me?”

You don’t know how many times you’ve come. All you know is the wet heat pooling between your legs, the throbbing of your clit, and the tongue licking lightly at your soaking folds.

In the distance, there’s a furious sound, repeated over and over.

“I can’t…”

He slips a long, thick finger into you, then another, sending your hips thrusting from the bed. “It’s okay, baby, come on now.”

His voice is so reassuring and calm, as if he wasn’t completely taking you apart for the umpteenth time.

The noise continues, becoming rhythmic and more irritated. Even with this frustrating soundtrack, you can feel yourself becoming more and more aroused.

“That’s it. That’s it, Lyddie.”

At the sound of the nickname you steal a glance downwards. His dark eyes twinkle as he winks at you, and you let out a gasping cry as your body jerks upright and your eyes snap wide open.

Daylight.

Your head is pounding and the sunlight hurts your eyes as you turn, squinting, to look at the time on your sunrise alarm clock.

There’s a needy ache between your legs. You peek down the bed, part of you half-expecting to see him there. It had all been so fucking vivid, so real. You gently put your hand between your legs, immediately feeling a soaking wetness.

As your brain starts to wake up properly, you pause and fall back onto the pillows, staring at the ceiling and wondering what the hell was going on in your unconscious mind.

The noise that had provided the rhythmic soundtrack to your somnolent sexual scenario has resumed. You realise with a jolt that it’s the buzzer from your intercom, and leap out of bed.

Ani’s scowling face peers at you through the camera. Their grey morning suit has been replaced by a pair of gym leggings and their enormous tie-dye hoodie, and they’re holding two huge paper bags from McDonald’s.

They’re still wearing the tiny Dracula tinted spectacles.

“I’m so sorry! I’m letting you in now, door’s open!”

You’ve hauled on a pair of lounge pants and a soft, ancient sweatshirt by the time Ani has made their way up the stairs and into your apartment. Your rumination over the meaning of your dream would have to wait, and you push the impossibly strong visual image of those brown eyes looking up at you from between your thighs out of your mind.

“Where the fuck were you? I thought something had happened to you. You weren’t picking up your phone, you weren’t answering the door, and I’m fucking so hungover oh my god.”

“I was asleep. You want some coffee or something? What’s in the bags?”

Ani nods towards your tiny kitchen, and you lead the way. “I don’t normally do this, Lyd, but when I feel this bad the only solution is to eat too much McDonald’s breakfast and then regret it.” They plop the two big bags of food onto your counter. “I couldn’t remember if you were a veggie or not so I ordered two of every McMuffin variation.”

You hug them gratefully. “You’re a star, Ani. My body is screaming for this.”

That’s not the only thing your body was screaming for this morning.

No. Nope. Push it away.

You put on a pot of coffee (there are two coffees with the breakfast order, but you suspect you’ll need much more) and grab some plates and paper towels. Ani unpacks the food, plucking a hash brown out of the bag and eating it as they do so.

“How did you get this, by the way? Surely you aren’t in a fit state to drive?”

Ani shakes their head and swallows a bite of fried potato. “McDelivery. Walked over, ordered it on the way, got it for here. Come on, girl, I need to sit on your sofa and let the carbs heal me.”

You carry the food the short distance to the living area and settle in, handing Ani a spare blanket as you wrap your crocheted granny throw around you. Then you remember last night.

“Where’s Cass?!”

Ani licks a glob of tomato ketchup from their finger. “Had to head back early to the city. We got to hold each other’s hair while throwing up this morning though, it was pretty special.”

You glance down at the egg and cheese McMuffin you’ve unwrapped, deciding to pause before they resume their story.

“She’s really sweet, though. And funny. And so, so fucking hot. That mouth! Jesus Christ. Sorry if that was TMI.”

You shift slightly, feeling yourself heating up, and smile over at your friend. “So you’ll see each other again?”

Ani shrugs, looking a little awkward. “Yeah, I mean…it’s a distance. But - yeah. I’d like to.” They nod to themselves. “Even if it’s just a hooking up thing. For now. We’ll see.”

For a moment you consider telling Ani about your dream. You decide to wait.

They sip from their paper cup of coffee. “You hear anything from Ben?”

Your voice is a little too high, too casual, but in their hungover state Ani doesn’t seem to notice.

“No, don’t think so? Should I have done?”

Ani reaches for another hash brown. “Nah, that’s not what I mean, it’s just cos he’s probably feeling it too this morning, and you were together pretty much all night and all… so I thought maybe he’d messaged you to check in.”

“I haven’t actually looked at my phone yet.” You get off the couch and go to retrieve it from your room.

“No shit, Sherlock. Ignore the ten missed calls from me.”

“Hey, Lydia?”

Ben stands by the back door of Evan’s car, hands in his coat pockets, head tilted as he looks at you. The streetlight above is reflected in his glasses.

“Yes, Detective?”

He smiles and walks up to you. “Let me walk you to the door of the building, okay?” You start walking in step.

“You don’t have to do this, you know. It’s right there.”

“Yeah, I know, but…what if the Zodiac’s around?” He raises his eyebrows over the frame of his glasses and you giggle quietly, still feeling the effects of the Spooky Margs somewhat as you reach the front door of the apartment block and key in your code.

He waits until you’re safely inside and about to close the door.

“Thanks for making sure I got home safe, Detective. Message me to say you got home, okay? And thank you for saving me earlier.”

“Saving you?”

“From the fall? You got me just in time.” He casts his eyes to the ground for a moment before looking up and smiling.

“Any time. Say the word, and I’ve got you. G’night, Lyddie.”

BEN: sdlkhgiudflahlw!jkdh (1.30am)

BEN: what (1.50am)

BEN: so zzzzzzzzz right now sdfdkg 😴 (2.00am)

BEN: I’m so sorry, Lydia! Was trying to message you to say I got in okay and I was so tired and sleepy*. I’m so sorry, this is so embarrassing. *tired and drunk on Spooky Margs (8:45am)

BEN: Hope you aren’t feeling too bad this morning (8:55am)

BEN: Me right now (9:00am)

He’s sent you a gif of Cameron Frye in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, tucked up in bed and saying “I’m dying”.

You giggle as you walk back into the living room, holding your phone. It’s a relief that you are able to communicate as normal with the real man, as opposed to whatever fictional avatar your sleeping brain cooked up.

LYDIA: I’m on my way over to borrow your dad’s fancy car!! (I’m not. I’m in no fit state. May never process those Spooky Margs. Welp.)

LYDIA: Dracula just showed up and I don’t know how they haven’t crumbled to dust in direct sunlight.

BEN: *consults Bram Stoker* No, he’s got nothing on that scenario.

LYDIA: They’ve come equipped with McMuffins. Stoker didn’t count on that. Anyway, drink all the water! Have some coffee! But mostly water. 😊

“He’s alive, I’m guessing.” Ani has put back on the tiny dark glasses and is curled up in a corner of the couch.

You hold out your phone with the gif. “Sent me this at 9am. Poor Ben.”

Ani rolls their eyes. “Poor Ben?? He’s not the only one.” They reach for their coffee. “Though I think he must have crossed the line from ‘merry and tired’ into ‘praying for the sweet release of death’ after we dropped you off last night. He was fine when you were there and then he was all quiet and leaning against the window and shit. I think Evan was afraid he was gonna hurl in the back seat of his car.”

“I know you have another one in you, baby. For me?”

The heat surges in you, hangover or no hangover. You push the memory of your dream away again. You’re no Freudian, but you read enough “what does my dream mean” magazine articles as a teenager to know that dreams are often symbolic, not literal.

A sex dream does not mean you want to have sex with someone, for example.

You rationalise it quickly in your brain. It's been a while since you've had the kind of comfortable, safe physical closeness you had with Ben last night. He was obviously on your mind. Makes sense that he might turn up in a random situation in your unconscious.

And it wasn't like you hadn't had the odd, harmless, platonic crush on friends in the past. Right? All good.

Ani looks at their phone and looks over at you. “Evan says hi. Wants to know if you’re okay. Said you were chatting shit about moustaches or something to Poor Hungover Benjamin last night.” They cackle to themselves.

“The fuck? I don’t remember doing that. What does he mean?”

Ani looks up and proceeds to deftly tap out a reply to Evan. The response is immediate. “I have no idea what he’s on about.”

You glare, head thumping. “Just fucking tell me.”

“He says: ‘Just tell her In The Cut, the female gaze, moustaches.’” “What?” And the memories start to clear through the haze. “That’s not…oh FUCK.”

After the lipsync, Ani and Cass had disappeared. You had gratefully moved from the arm of the couch to stretch out at one end. Ben had turned his body to face you from the other end, resting his legs on the sofa.

“Holy shit, are those Halloween socks?”

Having discarded his black lace-ups, the full extent of the pattern became clear: little white ghosts dotted across a black background, interspersed with grinning pumpkins and skeletons.

Ben blushed a little, but wriggled his toes contentedly. “They’re thematic! I like it. I like a good thematic sock.”

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back into the sofa, still buzzed from the cocktails. “I am pretty sure those aren’t canonical for the costume, cute and all as they are.”

He pulled an “I am so affronted” face, feigning total indignation. “You don’t know. Maybe you just haven’t watched Zodiac closely enough, Lyddie.”

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly. “Well, I’ll just have to watch it again, won’t I? ‘M gonna check the director’s cut and everything.”

He couldn’t sustain the playacting and chuckled, deep and warm. “Should actually watch that movie again. ‘S so fucking good.”

You nodded along, eyes closed and humming in agreement. “Mmmhmm. Though, let’s be real,” you said, shifting yourself forward slightly, “the best cop Ruffalo? In The Cut.” You sat back against the sofa again. “So, so hot.”

Ben exhaled in agreement. “So hot. Whew.”

It was at this point that, in hindsight, your mouth was in gear before your brain was properly engaged.

“‘S like, perfect example of the erotic female gaze, right? But also about the vulnerability of the women?”

You always did struggle to stop talking when you were off on one about cinema. Or books. Or art. Or specific episodes of 30 Rock. Or anything you were passionate about.

Throw in a couple of Spooky Margs, and your mouth was going to run and run.

You raised an eyebrow and looked dreamily into the middle distance.

“And then there’s the ’tache.” You sighed. “Swear to god, that movie gave me a ‘dodgy cop with moustache’ thing. Whewww, he could get it. So hot. And kind of a form of feminist praxis.”

“Hot praxis,” Ben echoed.

Other than that, his only response was to distractedly start running a finger over the hair on his upper lip, a pensive look on his face, as if he was pondering a very deep question.

You hadn’t realised Evan and David were watching and listening attentively from an armchair, a couple of feet away.

You sit with your head in your hands as Ani pats you on the back with one hand, another McMuffin in their other.

“I honestly don’t know why you’re so stressed about this. It’s not like you said ‘y’know what Benjamin, I love your moustache and you could get it’. You were specifically referring to a movie and an actor. You weren’t even saying ‘I like all fictional moustachioed cops.’”

You moan into your hand as the cringe and hungover paranoia threaten to break you.

“It’s just so mortifying. First I nearly fall on the goddamn floor, then I start talking shit at him about cops with moustaches and hot feminist praxis and - why am I fucking like this?”

Ani chews thoughtfully. “Why are any of us like this?” They sip their (second) cup of coffee. “He’s not wrong, though, it would be hot praxis.”

It would probably feel less embarrassing if you hadn’t woken up thinking about…that. The sensation. The feeling of his (imaginary) mouth on you. The look in his (imaginary) eyes. The smile.

You pick up your phone and grimace. “Should I message him and explain?”

Ani looks horrified. “And explain what, exactly? I’m sorry I told you I thought Mark Ruffalo was hot with a moustache in In The Cut, and I’m worried you think I’m weird because you also have a moustache and I wasn’t being weird? Jesus, Lyd, be real.” They pause, and ask quietly: “You weren’t, like, actually trying to…suggest…?”

Their meaning hits you and your jaw drops. “No, I obviously wasn’t suggesting anything!”

‘The lady doth protest too much, methinks’, pipes up your inner Queen Gertrude.

Ani helps you clean up and then heads back home for a long bath. Cass has been sending them messages all morning, and Ani’s little smile each time they get one makes you very happy indeed.

Not too far from your place, Evan and David are doing a final tidy up while their last few guests get ready to go for brunch.

“Is it wrong that I feel smug about not being hungover?” Evan asks, putting away the bottles of tequila and crème de menthe.

David chuckles, stacking plates in the dishwasher. “I hope the others aren’t too sick, though.” He closes the door of the appliance and sets the cycle going. “I meant to say, I didn’t know Barrow was so strict about discretion and staff relationships.”

Evan turns to look at him, expression confused, running a hand through his bright blue locks. “Discretion? Are you talking about us, or…?”

“No, I mean - I only realised after the fact that they didn’t go home together, and I wondered if that was some weird rule.” He closes his eyes and tries to recall names. “The scientist and the detective… Lydia and Ben?”

Evan pauses and then doubles over, laughing. “Oh, babe, no. They’re not together.” He continues wiping down the countertop. “They’re just close, he was the first person she met here, they’re total nerds together, they can get the nerding out without disrupting the rest of us, it’s just a whole vibe.” He motions with his hand, as if brushing the notion away.

David continues to look at him, arching an eyebrow. “Maybe. I guess everyone’s got friendships like that, huh. It was just…” He inhales. “There was just something. But then maybe I’m overthinking it.”

Evan nods, patting David’s arm. “I think you might be. Just because we're coupled up doesn’t mean everyone else is - or wants to be.”

David smiles and reaches for Evan’s hand, twining their fingers together. “Oh, so it’s ‘coupled up now’? Not just a ‘thing’?”

Evan plants a soft kiss on David’s mouth, and grins, before returning to the clean-up operation. David looks pensive.

“I don’t want to be crude about your colleagues, but - are you absolutely sure they aren’t even fucking?”

“Ex-cuse me?” Evan wheels around, horrified. “Yes, I am sure. Babe, if that was happening I would fucking know.”

Your Sunday plans primarily involve putting on some laundry, and then napping in front of a comfort movie, accompanied by a huge bottle of water and strong, hot, sweet tea served in your biggest mug. And some cookies, of course.

“I’m allowed, I’m hungover,” you say out loud, to no one in particular.

By late afternoon, the laundry is done and haphazardly folded - anything neater was too taxing for your hungover brain to process. Wrapped up in your crochet blanket, you are starting to doze off in front of The Muppets when you notice your phone light up.

BEN: Was ‘Hurdy-Gurdy Man’ always this sinister or is it just because of this movie?

He’s included a photograph of what you presume is his TV, and you recognise one of the early scenes in Zodiac.

LYDIA: I’m gonna go with both? But I definitely didn’t associate it with serial killing before the film. Thanks Fincher!

Later, another picture: this time, Mark Ruffalo as Dave Tosche, complete with shoulder holsters.

BEN: Who the hell is this guy??

LYDIA: A really bad impersonator.

BEN: His hair is a lot better than mine though.

You pause as you consider your reply.

LYDIA: Hmmm

BEN: Hmmm?

LYDIA: It’s…of its time. A little heavy for my liking. Don’t sell yourself short.

BEN:

LYDIA: Whoa. Uncanny.

The little dots indicating that Ben is composing a message flash intermittently. Eventually, you think he’s decided not to reply, and snuggle back into your blanket.

The screen lights again.

BEN: Maybe you're right about not selling myself too short.

BEN: I mean, he doesn’t even have a moustache. 😉

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

Further A/N: I don't think there's a need for as many explanations or annotations on this chapter, but for reasons, I should probably provide some evidence of what Lydia's thinking of when she refers to the morally-dodgy, moustachioed cop (Det. Giovanni Malloy) played by Mark Ruffalo in Jane Campion's In The Cut (2003).

(What do you mean, I think you have a type?)

#visiting fic #visiting masterlist #mr ben snl #professor ben x OFC #mr ben #professor!ben x ofc #pedro pascal character fanfic #professor!ben #mr ben x ofc #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #Spotify

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ivo-oz · 4 months

Text

🩸🩸🩸

ℌ𝖊𝖊𝖇𝖊𝖘 : 𝕲𝖊𝖓𝖊𝖘𝖊

〖chapitre 3 〗

Attention, ce texte sera peut-être modifié à l'avenir afin de le perfectionner

Dans un sursaut, mes yeux s'ouvrent dans une salle sombre au mur de pierre. Toujours à genoux, je constate que ma situation n'a nullement changé. Les mains clouées à la froideur de la pierre, le sang s'échappant lentement des plaies béantes, peignant ainsi la pierre en rouge.

C'est drôle, il m'a fallu deux jours pour ne plus y penser.

Les premiers jours se sont remplis de cris et de pleur.

Ridicule !

La futilité de cette douleur me rend tellement honteuse.

Je ne penserai pas que l'humilier devant les représentants du royaume le pousserait à me souhaiter autant de mal. J'aurais préféré garder la mobilité de mes mains. Mais bon, si c'est le prix à payer.

Les blessures que je porte en moi sont plus grandes que ses clous.

Il est vrai que c'est la première fois que je suis confronté à de tels châtiments physiques, mais j'aurais dû me réjouir.

Non, ne crie pas, ce n'est pas de la douleur.

Quelle image de moi j'aurais si je me réabandonne à cette facilité ? J'ai subi plus grave, plus longtemps.

Ce ne sont que des plaies, elles s'effaceront.

Mes vraies blessures, elles n'ont pas cicatrisé et pourtant, je les supporte. Succomber à de telles frivolités serait juste dévalorisant.

La vraie douleur n'aurait plus de sens.

Vous êtes en retard. J'en pouvais plus de lutter contre le sommeil pour m'éviter de m'ouvrir la peau davantage.

Un grincement métallique interrompit ma somnolence.

La porte est ouverte.

J'ai beau être dos à elle, je peux quand même sentir le son des talons frapper la pierre dans ma direction.

Un son grave, puis aigu, grave et encore aigu.

Une paire de bottes désassorties.

Ho, c'est Fides qui a été chargé de me libérer.

Tout en entrant dans mon champ de vision, Fides arrache les clous qui bloquaient mes mains.

J'ai . . .

Je n'ai pas crié,

j'ai pu me contenir haha,

mon sourire partit immédiatement quand je découvris les énormes trous béants que contenaient mes mains dorénavant.

On peut y voir à travers.

C'est répugnant mon dieu.

Mes mains

qu'es que . . . comment . . .

mon dieu.

—Mes excuses, Père Inhonoris a tardé à me donner les clés.

— Vous pouvez me soigner ?

— Je n'ai pas ces compétences, un médecin vous sera assigné dans deux jours.

— Vous vous moquez de moi, mes plaies vont rester ouvertes pendant cinq jours en tout. Je ne pourrai plus jamais écrire.

Un ange passe.

— Vous m'envoyez navrer, mademoiselle.

— Navrée ‽ Vraiment ‽ Ôte-moi ce mot de ta bouche quand tu me parles ! Mais quel genre de soutien hypocrite, tu penses me faire avaler ! Ça ne sert à rien de me mentir si mon état ne t'inspire que de l'indifférence !

Le souvenir de mes mains perforées aurait presque pu être oublié si mon sang ne s'était pas mis à accélérer dans mes veines.

Mon cœur hurle dans ma tête, m'obligeant à me taire.

— Pardonnez-moi Je m'exécute.

—Avez-vous du temps à m'accorder ?

J'aurais besoin de coudre mes plaies.

Bien sûr, je ne voudrais pas abuser de votre gentillesse.

Vous pouvez déléguer le travail à un de vos collègues si c'est trop demandé. J'espère que je n'ai pas manqué de politesse, vous savez, trois jours sans pouvoir pleinement dormir me font perdre pas mal de notions.

Comme la clémence par exemple.

Je sens l'air frais de la pièce effleurer les cavités de mes mains. Le sang a arrêté de couler et fait maintenant place au vertige et à la fatigue.

Toute pressée, elle s'engouffre dans l'ouverture de la porte.

Elle ne m'aide même pas à monter...

Haha, elle doit avoir peur de demander . . .

Haaaa, j'en avais besoin tout de même.

3 minutes plus tard, Fides accourut pour m'éviter un malaise sur les marches et se mit à m'aider à atteindre ma chambre.

Ho, le temps, et puis qu'est-ce que c'est au final ?

Que le soleil finisse couché une fois la fin des escaliers atteint. Alors ainsi soit-il

— N'ayez crainte, nous serons bientôt à vos appartements.

Hum

Mes yeux balaient le sol et les murs comme un pendule oscillant entre le conscient et l'inconscient. Un pendule se stoppant net lorsqu'une certaine odeur lui parvient.

Odeur de café . . . de miel.

Cela me sortit de mon vertige.

11h

— Que faites-vous ? Votre chambre se situe dans le couloir gauche.

Il est 11 heures, grand-père doit être dans son bureau.

— Ne me crois pas si bête. Je vais simplement dire bonjour à Papi.

— Vous entendez vous, c'est lui qui vous a châtié. Ne l'humiliez pas davantage, il risquerait de vous bannir.

— Tu n'es pas convaincante, cesse de mentir, bon sang.

Boitant en direction de la porte, je finis ma route en m'affalant sur la poignée de la porte.

Haha, tant pis pour la surprise.

L'iris de ses yeux dilaté, la rigidité qu'adopte son corps. Toute cette attention pour moi. Il s'efforce d'être calme et ça m'est tellement jouissif.

Je pousse la porte en m'aidant difficilement de mon épaule, mes mains étant inutilisables.

Grand-père est juste derrière.

L'encadré de la porte dévoile progressivement son visage et les émotions qui le parcourent quand il découvre le mien.

Finalement, je ne sais que dire, mon esprit m'échappe, des idées, des bribes me viennent, mais les paroles demeurent insaisissables.

Pourquoi est-il aussi surpris ? Pensait-il me soumettre ?

Tu ne me connais pas assez.

Que pense-t-il de moi ? Que penserait Inhonoris Cornecuus ?

Toute sa vie et son existence ont servi à bâtir cet empire, à se hisser au rang de roi. Être à son niveau est la seule motivation qui me pousse à me faire violence dans mes études.

Enfin, avec les blessures, ça va être plus compliqué.

En marchant ou plutôt vacillant vers lui, le sang pulsant dans mes mains m'empêche de continuer.

Aucun de mes muscles actifs ne m'épargne de douleur.

Je lève faiblement ma main et avec un grand sourire, le plus beau que je puisse faire, je le salue avant qu'un voile noir ne mette fin à mon geste.

SUITE (un jour . . . ) PRECEDENT

#hèebes #licorne #unicorn #my ocs #my storys #ℌ𝖊𝖊𝖇𝖊𝖘 : 𝕲𝖊𝖓𝖊𝖘𝖊 #Hèebes : Genése #Heebes : Genese

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valerielemercier · 1 month

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Près d’un arbre sur un banc Un vieillard somnole Il repense à sa vie, à l’enfant qu’il était Au bonheur de grandir, à l’odeur de craie Oh, gémit-il, pourquoi ai-je vieilli Pourquoi mes jambes lasses ont cessé de courir Pourquoi les hommes enfin finissent par mourir Tout à coup il s’éveille, il s’éveille dans le vent Il vient de recevoir sur ses genoux pliés La funeste dépouille d’un oisillon mort-né Saisi par le spectacle du sinistre embryon Gisant, sans vie, gluant, dessus son pantalon Il rend grâce au seigneur de cet enseignement Que me plaignais-je ingrat de n’avoir plus vingt ans J’ai pu à loisir pendant de longues années Voir poindre le jour, les blés, et puis l’hiver, l’été Tandis que cet oison, tout innocence et tout espoir Est mort soudain sans voir Ni même le jour ni même le soir André-Guy Nartout

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currentlyreadingawesomefanfics · 2 months

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Better late than never? Hope you’re ready for some Heather action!

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firebirdxvi · 4 months

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Fils du Feu 10 ~ Flamme vacillante

La psalmodie emplissait la pièce obscure d'une paix absolue. Joshua sentit la somnolence le gagner, assis comme il l'était au milieu des Immortels en prière. La bure d'adepte qu'il portait lui permettait de se fondre parfaitement dans l'assemblée et tous ceux qui l'entouraient, assis sur des bancs, semblaient avoir oublié sa présence.

Il était pourtant l'objet de cette cérémonie. Ayant toujours refusé de présider la prière quotidienne, les Immortels s'étaient résignés à ne plus le lui demander. Mais il aimait y assister en tant que spectateur. Les paroles des mélopées rituelles lui étaient toujours aussi hermétiques, mais leur rythme l'apaisait. Elles parlaient de feu sacré, purificateur, du Fondateur qui était descendu du ciel avec le pouvoir d'illuminer les ténèbres, de ses descendants, les Emissaires de Phénix qui l'avaient précédé, lui, Joshua Rosfield...

Ses mots résonnaient toujours au plus profond de son coeur et même s'il n'approuvait pas la totale dévotion que les adeptes lui vouaient, il ne pouvait se résoudre à la repousser. Elle était née d'une sincère foi que le feu du Phénix était celui qui avait sauvé l'humanité du froid et de l'obscurité et avait mené la nation de Rosalia à devenir la première civilisation valisthéenne digne de ce nom. Ils espéraient que tout ceci renaîtrait et que leur Emissaire reprendrait sa place dans ce monde et ressusciterait leur pays de ses cendres.

Quand il avait contemplé l'aqueduc laissé à l'abandon, il avait ressenti cet espoir lui aussi. Mais c'était davantage son désir de revenir aux jours heureux de son enfance qui l'avait guidé. Sa famille lui manquait tellement... Les Immortels restaient des étrangers pour lui, et plus que tout, la présence et l'amour de quelqu'un de son sang, avec qui il aurait pu grandir, lui auraient été nécessaires...

Il ouvrit les yeux et scruta l'estrade où officiait celui qui avait été désigné pour la journée ; un Immortel d'un certain âge à la voix douce qui connaissait parfaitement les psalmodies. Ordinairement, Maître Cyril s'en chargeait toujours, mais il était en ce moment même - Joshua le savait - "en expédition" dans les entrailles du refuge afin de découvrir si l'on pouvait risquer d'aménager de nouveaux lieux de vie dans les couloirs découverts. Les salles des archives commençaient à s'encombrer, et il ne serait pas un luxe d'en trouver d'autres. Permettre également aux adeptes de partager des quartiers plus spacieux rendrait le quotidien plus facile pour eux.

La cérémonie était terminée et chacun se réveillait de sa transe hypnotique. Joshua se leva à son tour, un peu endormi mais détendu, et constata que quelques Immortels, encore prostrés, les mains jointes, s'attardaient dans la chapelle. Il ne fallait pas les déranger... Il sortit à pas discrets.

Il se mit à marcher dans le couloir, les pans de sa robe de bure voletant autour de lui, en route vers ses propres appartements, dorénavant parfaitement aménagés. Sur sa route, la petite silhouette de Jote courut dans sa direction et il s'arrêta pour l'attendre. Elle stoppa devant lui, un peu essoufflée. Joshua était toujours heureux de la voir.

- "Pourquoi courez-vous ?" demanda-t-il, encore sous l'effet lénifiant du rituel.

- "Je viens de la part de Maître Cyril. Il réclame votre présence dans le corridor nord- ouest."

Joshua avait déjà parfaitement intégré la nouvelle géographie adoptée par les Immortels pour se repérer dans le dédale du refuge et il voyait donc assez bien où cela se trouvait.

- "Pour quelle raison ?"

- "Nous avons découvert un nouveau passage mais une porte nous bloque l'entrée. Nous avons besoin de vos... pouvoirs d'Emissaire."

Le jeune garçon sourit largement. Voilà qui lui plaisait. Après cette évasion agréable dans ses pensées rêveuses, un peu d'action lui conviendrait très bien. Il se mit à marcher d'un pas rapide le long du couloir, Jote sur ses talons.

- "Allons-y maintenant. J'ai hâte de voir ce qu'il y a derrière cette porte !"

Sans prendre le temps de se changer, il enfila le dernier corridor avant de s'enfoncer dans le labyrinthe à peine exploré qu'il avait ouvert quelques jours plus tôt en compagnie d'Adalia. Ayant en quelque sorte "éveillé" les lieux lors de leur incursion improvisée, la plupart des portes ne réclamaient plus son pouvoir pour être franchies, car les Immortels disposaient des connaissances requises pour les garder ouvertes à leur convenance. Il n'était pas retourné dans cette zone depuis un moment et fut surpris de constater la présence de plusieurs adeptes sur sa route. Occupés à retranscrire des gravures ou à noter les différences de niveau du sol des couloirs, ils s'inclinèrent pourtant tous à son passage et certains lui emboîtèrent même le pas. Ce fut avec une véritable escorte que Joshua atteignit l'endroit où se tenait Cyril, debout devant un portail clos, se caressant le menton.

Quand Joshua arriva près de lui, il porta la main à sa poitrine pour le saluer.

- "Pardonnez mon impudence, Votre Grâce, je ne suis pas digne de vous convoquer...", commença le Maître.

- "N'ayez crainte, la prière était terminée. Quel est votre problème ?" Il leva les yeux sur le portail sculpté. "Vous voulez passer ce seuil, je suppose. Vous avez une raison particulière de vous y intéresser ?"

- "Comme vous le savez, nous avons déjà arpenté et étudié plusieurs ruines célestes par le passé, et si nous nous référons aux structures que nous connaissons, la position de cette pièce semble prometteuse. Elle doit recéler des secrets d'un haut intérêt archéologique..."

- "C'est fascinant !"

- "Les Célestes sont fascinants, oui, et en savoir toujours plus sur eux ne sera jamais un mal. Connaître le passé ne peut qu'enrichir l'avenir. Aussi, si Votre Magnificence pouvait...", termina Cyril en s'inclinant.

- "Pas besoin de me le demander deux fois ! Je vais ouvrir cette pièce et l'explorer avec vous ! Laissez-moi passer."

Les Immortels s'écartèrent, et, sans effort, la main de Joshua actionna le dispositif d'ouverture. Une poussière très ancienne vola autour d'eux et leurs yeux durent percer une obscurité plus épaisse. L'énergie ne semblait pas aussi dense dans ces lieux et Joshua généra de nouveau une sphère de feu flottante afin de les éclairer. Il prit la tête de la petite troupe et tous s'avancèrent avec circonspection dans la pièce. Jote s'accrochait avec appréhension à la robe de Joshua.

La première chose qu'ils virent furent les alcôves dans lesquels reposaient les mêmes étranges formes minérales vaguement animales, pour l'heure au repos, alignées contre les murs de la salle. Tournant sur lui-même, Joshua envoya la sphère raser la surface de roc aux alentours pour en jauger la superficie. La sphère ne découvrit aucun plafond - les murs montaient à une hauteur indéterminée - et s'avéra bien plus vaste que la plupart des autres pièces. De forme sphérique, les sculptures qui la paraient semblaient bien plus complexes et travaillées.

Joshua et les Immortels avancèrent encore de quelques pas lorsque la sphère elle-même se mit à "monter" des marches. Les escaliers n'étaient pas la structure la plus commune dans les bâtiments célestes, aussi les explorateurs redoublèrent-ils de prudence. Les degrés n'étaient cependant pas très nombreux et la lueur des flammes se mit alors à danser autour de ce qui ressemblait bien à un autel surélevé. Mais le plus étonnant était ce qui reposait à son sommet.

Une sculpture tout à fait inconnue pour Joshua trônait au fond de l'étrange chapelle en sommeil et rien de ce qu'elle représentait ne pouvait se comparer à l'art valisthéen, même le plus exotique. Une forme vaguement humaine se découpait dans l'ombre, mais sa principale particularité - ses quatre bras déployés - la rendait un peu effrayante. Pire que tout, le visage ne comportait aucun trait, comme si les adorateurs de cette divinité s'étaient évertués à ne surtout pas représenter une quelconque expression faciale, peut-être par superstition ou peur religieuse.

Joshua ouvrit grand les yeux face à cette entité venue manifestement d'un autre âge, et se sentit observé jusqu'à la moelle des os par un regard froid et calculateur... Il frissonna sans savoir pourquoi et voulut au plus vite briser ce sort paralysant :

- "Trouvons un moyen d'éveiller cet endroit... Cette obscurité me pèse..."

Il se détourna de la statue et se mit à examiner les lieux afin de trouver peut-être un autre pupitre tel que celui qu'il avait déjà manipulé. Il ne fut pas long. Un Immortel l'appela dans un coin de la salle et lui désigna en effet un dispositif similaire. Cette pièce paraissait isolé du reste du bâtiment et disposait de sa propre source d'énergie... Joshua pianota un peu au hasard, comme la première fois, et la table de pierre s'illumina au bout de deux minutes. Des rais bleutés divergèrent dans toutes les directions, donnant à la pièce un aspect plus accueillant avec son éclairage.

Tous pouvaient distinguer l'étrange sculpture de façon plus claire et Cyril s'approcha alors de Joshua pour lui faire son rapport :

- "Cette figure ne nous est pas inconnue..."

- "Vous l'avez déjà vue ?"

- "Des rapports d'exploration qui nous sont parvenus décrivent dans le détail cette statue ; les quatre bras sont un élément crucial pour la reconnaître. Elle ne ressemble à aucune divinité valisthéenne commune, mais on en a trouvées plusieurs dans les bâtiments célestes..."

- "Vous croyez qu'il s'agirait de... leur dieu mystérieux ?"

- "Celui qui les a punis pour leur hubris ?" souffla Cyril. "Peut-être..."

Les deux hommes s'approchèrent de la figure de pierre. Encore une fois, son absence de traits faciaux terrifia Joshua. Soudain, une voix gutturale sembla résonner dans son crâne et il tomba à genoux... La langue qu'il entendait lui était inconnue et pourtant, il comprenait ce qu'elle lui disait...

N'INTERFERE PAS, PHENIX. TON TEMPS VIENDRA. QUAND MYTHOS SERA PRÊT.

Il toussa douloureusement, les larmes aux yeux, et quand il les rouvrit, il se trouvait dans un large cercle de feu, sur un sol pavé, sous le ciel étoilé. Tout autour de lui, il percevait vaguement des tours crénelées, et des sons de lames s'entrechoquant. La cendre qui tournoyait dans les airs lui piquait les yeux et il porta les mains devant son visage pour s'en protéger. Mais à travers ses doigts, Joshua distingua ce qui ressemblait à une silhouette sombre qui l'observait sans bouger... Elle lui disait des choses... qu'il ne comprit pas du tout cette fois... ou craignait de comprendre...

Le garçon gémit de douleur et Jote se porta aussitôt à son secours. Cyril arborait une expression inquiète, mais n'osait pas toucher Joshua. La petite fille essaya de le relever.

- "Vous allez bien, Votre Grâce ?", s'inquiéta le Maître.

- "Non !...", souffla le garçon avec difficulté. Il ne semblait pas avoir bougé de l'endroit où il se trouvait, malgré sa certitude absolue de s'être retrouvé à Fort Phénix pendant un instant. "Vous n'avez pas entendu ? Cette... chose m'a parlé !"

- "Je n'ai rien entendu, Votre Grâce...", répondit Jote en posant la main sur le front de Joshua.

Le garçon ressentait une peur telle qu'il n'en avait plus connue depuis la Nuit des Flammes. Il se sentait mis à nu devant une volonté bien supérieure qui entendait lui dicter sa conduite. Une froide malveillance, une hostilité implacable émanaient de la statue dressée devant lui, ses quatre bras ressemblant à des pièges prêts à se refermer sur lui...

- "J'ai peur, Clive..." Comme toujours, il considérait son frère comme sa première protection face à ce qui l'effrayait. Mais Clive n'était plus là. Il devait se défendre seul. Il prononça alors un seul mot, qui résumait toute la perplexité que lui avait infligé ce qui avait bien été une attaque mentale.

- "Mythos ?", murmura Joshua en parvenant à se relever.

- "Qu'avez-vous dit, Votre Grâce ?" demanda Cyril.

- "C'est le mot que... il a prononcé... Qu'est-ce qu'il veut dire ?"

- "C'est la première fois que je l'entends..."

- "Je n'oublierai pas... ce nom."

- "Nous ferons des recherches à ce sujet dès que possible", conclut le Maître.

Joshua voulut s'éloigner au plus vite de cet endroit. Ses propres appartements étaient plutôt éloignés de cette chapelle maléfique mais la savoir plus proche qu'il n'aurait voulu ne le rassurait pas. Cependant, un adepte vint vers eux pour leur rapporter une trouvaille.

- "Maître, Votre Grâce, nous avons découvert des coffres derrière l'autel. Ils doivent contenir des artefacts si nos prévisions sont justes."

- "Bien, nous allons les emporter. Sa Grâce ne tient pas à demeurer plus longtemps dans les parages alors ne nous attardons pas."

- "Puis-je... refermer la porte derrière nous ?" hasarda Joshua.

- "Hmm... Nous emmènerons tout ce qui est digne d'intérêt. Vous pourrez la verrouiller de nouveau si cela vous tranquillise..."

- "Je vais aussi... la rendre au sommeil. C'est plus sûr..."

Son coeur battait encore très fort dans sa poitrine. Il ne voulait pas que cette pièce reste en activité...

- "Comme vous le souhaitez."

Le garçon se dirigea en chancelant vers le pupitre lumineux et effectua certaines manipulations. La chapelle gronda puis les rais bleutés s'éteignirent un à un. Il se sentit un petit peu mieux et cessa de trembler.

Tous s'apprêtèrent à revenir en arrière, les bras chargés de coffrets verrouillés, quand un adepte se mit à hurler :

- "Aaaaarrghh !"

L'homme se traînait par terre, tentant de rejoindre le portail de la chapelle, se remit péniblement sur ses pieds et rejoignit ses acolytes.

- "Une de ses diaboliques créatures ! Elle s'est réveillée !"

Il pointait du doigt une des alcôves abritant ce que les Immortels appelaient communément les Sentinelles. Une lueur blanche émanait de celle-ci et une créature insolite sauta hors du renfoncement pour s'immobiliser à quelques mètres d'eux.

Elle mesurait environ soixante centimètres de haut et possédait une silhouette franchement arachnoïde ; sa tête sphérique tournait sur elle-même avec énergie et presque de la curiosité. Elle semblait surprise de s'être éveillée et encore plus de la présence des Immortels. Un rayon bleu sortant de sa "tête" balaya l'espace devant elle, et vint effleurer les corps des explorateurs. Cyril se plaça devant Joshua.

- "Reculez, Votre Grâce. Nous connaissons ces créatures, elles gardent les ruines célestes des intrus ! Elles peuvent se montrer dangereuses..."

Il dégaina une épée qu'il portait au côté et la brandit avec adresse face à la Sentinelle isolée qui ne paraissait pas décidée à attaquer. Jote se cacha derrière Joshua, les mains crispées sur sa robe. Elle pouvait utiliser sa magie en cas d'urgence pour repousser l'ennemi loin de l'Emissaire mais elle espérait ne pas y être confrontée...

L'arachnide avança de quelques pas et émit quelques cliquètements sonores. Elle sembla examiner chacun des explorateurs qui reculaient lentement vers la porte. Croyant qu'elle les laisserait tranquilles s'ils vidaient rapidement les lieux, Cyril indiqua la sortie. Mais la créature les suivit pas à pas, avec circonspection, n'exprimant toujours aucune marque d'agressivité. Elle se mit à sautiller sur ses pattes comme un enfant joyeux et des sons enjoués accompagnaient chacun de ses mouvements.

Joshua la trouva amusante. Il ne sentait aucune hostilité émaner de la Sentinelle, et il décela aussi - ce qui paraissait encore plus étrange - un semblant de vie sous cette carapace minérale. Aussi voulut-il s'en approcher, car cette forme de vie tout à fait inédite l'attirait fortement. Il tendit la main en faisant quelques pas en avant et Cyril s'alarma :

- Pas d'imprudence !"

- "Elle ne nous fera pas de mal. Elle est restée longtemps endormie et elle ne doit plus se souvenir de sa mission", décida Joshua. "Regardez, elle a l'air heureuse se pouvoir bouger de nouveau !"

- "Heureuse ?" demande Jote, pleine de doute.

Le garçon combla les quelques mètres qui le séparait de la Sentinelle et celle-ci tourna sa tête vers lui. Un nouveau rayon de lumière sembla l'examiner et, l'opération achevée, l'arachnide le laissa approcha sa main. Ses doigts caressèrent la surface de pierre blanche, qui devait avoir été lisse à une certaine époque mais qui comportait dorénavant quelques ébréchures.

Joshua ne parvenait pas à comprendre exactement à quoi il avait affaire. Cette créature était vivante à sa manière mais elle était de toute évidence manufacturée. Fonctionnait-elle grâce à la magie ? Etait-ce cette magie qu'il confondait avec l'énergie vitale propre à tous les êtres vivants ? Il refusait de penser qu'elle n'était pas vivante, le pouvoir du Phénix lui donnait la capacité de déceler la vie partout où elle se trouvait, et il ne pouvait se tromper. Il dut conclure qu'il faisait face à une forme de vie enfermée dans un réceptacle inanimé.

L'arachnide le laissa lui gratter l'arrière de la tête et Joshua constata qu'elle était capable de sensations. C'était proprement stupéfiant ! Elle produisait des petits cliquetis de contentement que le garçon parvenait très bien à comprendre.

- "Tu es plutôt amical, dis donc ! Pourquoi es-tu le seul à t'être réveillé ?"

- "Si je puis me permettre, Votre Grâce", intervint Cyril qui s'était approché à son tour, la lame toujours au clair, "c'est peut-être le résultat d'un dysfonctionnement, cela ne présage rien de bon..."

- "S'il n'est plus capable de nous détecter comme des ennemis, je ne pense pas qu'il soit dangereux."

- "Nous devrions partir maintenant, en espérant qu'il restera là où il est..."

Joshua se détourna à contre-coeur, peu enjoué à l'idée de laisser la Sentinelle seule dans le noir. Il éprouvait une compassion inédite. Résigné, il rejoignit les Immortels dans le but de sceller définitivement le portail, mais l'arachnide se mit à gesticuler en le suivant de toute la vitesse de ses pattes. Elle émettait des hululements paniqués et se jeta presque dans ses jambes, ce qui fit tomber Jote à la renverse.

- "Hé là, mon petit ami, doucement !" s'exclama Joshua en s'agenouillant devant la Sentinelle. "Je crois qu'il n'a pas envie de rester ici. Et si... on l'emmenait ? On pourrait en tirer des informations intéressantes !"

Joshua commença à s'éloigner à grands pas, à reculons, et la créature le suivit d'une démarche sautillante, presque espiègle. Le garçon sourit avec bonheur et se prit même à lui lancer des appels de langue comme il l'avait fait jadis avec... un certain animal qu'il avait beaucoup aimé et qui était lui aussi sorti de sa vie avec brutalité...

Les larmes menacèrent de couler et il les ravala avec difficulté. L'arachnide sembla comprendre sa tristesse et se posta devant lui en levant ses pattes en l'air. Sa tête "se pencha" de côté et il émit une série de bips interrogateurs. Tout ceci se passa devant la troupe d'Immortels, médusés par le spectacle.

- "Merci, ça va... j'avais juste un souvenir lointain... Je peux t'appeler... Torgal ?"

Le dôme roula sur lui-même avec joie et ce fut entendu.

- "Bon, je vais l'emmener avec moi. Je le garderai dans ma chambre comme ça il n'ennuiera pas les adeptes", décida Joshua.

- "Dans... votre chambre ?" répéta Cyril, qui pensait avoir mal comprit.

- "Oui. Il n'y a aucun danger, je vous assure. Nous sommes déjà de bons amis. ll doit comprendre que c'est moi qui l'ai réveillé et il est reconnaissant."

- "Ces créatures ne sont sûrement pas capables de..."

- "Le Phénix me dit que si. Vous n'allez tout de même pas discuter ses intuitions ?"

Joshua n'usait jamais de son autorité d'Emissaire en temps normal, mais cela lui sembla nécessaire à cet instant.

- "Bien sûr que non, Sérénissime...", s'excusa le Maître avec humilité.

- "C'est entendu alors ! Torgal va vivre avec moi ! Il deviendra une bonne compagnie lorsque Jote se sera habituée à lui."

- "Euh, je vais essayer...", promit la petite fille.

Toute la petite troupe remonta les couloirs vers les lieux de vie des Immortels, Torgal trottant à leurs côtés. Beaucoup parmi les adeptes n'avaient aucune confiance en lui mais les ordres de l'Emissaire passaient avant tout. Il ne leur en donnait quasiment jamais alors ils désiraient pour cette fois faire bonne impression.

Une fois sortis du dédale, les explorateurs chargés de butin rejoignirent les différentes salles d'examen des artefacts ; Joshua quant à lui, se dirigea vers sa chambre, épuisé après ses pérégrinations. Il avait envie d'un bon bain et peut-être ferait-il aussi une sieste. Jote partit immédiatement chercher les cristaux nécessaires et le garçon ouvrit la porte de ses appartements. Talgor se glissa dans l'ouverture après lui, semblant tout à fait comprendre qu'il était le bienvenu.

La Sentinelle se mit à fureter un peu partout, touchant de ses pattes curieuses les meubles et les objets à sa portée. Joshua découvrit alors qu'il pouvait se hausser "sur la pointe des pieds" et grandir de presque trente centimètres supplémentaires. Il avait hâte d'examiner de plus près les diverses capacités de son nouveau compagnon, mais la perspective du bain prima sur toute autre chose.

Quand Jote revint, elle évita avec difficulté Torgal qui avait la fâcheuse manie de se faufiler entre les jambes des gens, ce qui fit rire Joshua. Il ne pouvait s'empêcher de penser que cette araignée artificielle animée par la magie ressemblait fortement à un chiot joueur.

Le garçon fit couler et chauffer l'eau de son bain et se glissa avec délice dans le liquide infusé d'huiles essentielles qu'Adalia qui prescrivait. Il frotta ses bras et ses jambes et repensa brièvement à sa confrontation mentale avec le dieu des Célestes - ou quoi que cela soit d'autre. Il se rendit compte alors qu'il n'en savait pas grand chose et envisagea de faire de prochaines recherches à ce sujet. La voix menaçante qui l'avait interpellé mentalement lui fit de nouveau froid dans le dos... La porte avait été bien refermée et Joshua espéra ne plus jamais y avoir affaire.

Il voyait le rayon de détection de Torgal parcourir la pièce, s'arrêter sur chaque objet insolite, comme s'il en prenait note. L'arachnide semblait infatigable mais elle allait bien devoir se calmer un peu ; car maintenant qu'il était propre, Joshua aspirait à dormir.

Une fois sa chemise de nuit passée, il s'étira longuement en bâillant, s'assit sur son lit et regarda Torgal avec fermeté. Il leva un doigt comme pour le gronder gentiment.

- "Je comprends que tu sois enthousiaste, mais je voudrais dormir. Je n'y arriverais pas si tu fais du raffut !"

Torgal sembla comprendre et bipa trois fois. Puis il se dirigea vers un coin de la pièce, et Joshua, médusé, le vit replier ses longues pattes sous sa tête et elles disparurent complètement. La Sentinelle ressemblait maintenant à une sphère parfaite, prenant moitié moins de place qu'à l'état de veille. Les lumières sur son dôme disparurent et elle ne fit plus aucun bruit.

Le jeune garçon soupira, s'allongea et se couvrit de ses draps. Il était si harassé qu'il s'endormirait sans doute très vite.

- "Bonne nuit, Torgal."

Un unique bip se fit entendre en réponse et les rais de lumière qui éclairaient la pièce s'éteignirent à leur tour.

#fils du feu #fdf10 #fanfiction #joshua rosfield #FFXVI #final fantay xvi #fallenRaziel

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