#spectacular fic exploring deeper into those things

[cowboy-raylan]

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about why I love Justified so much. There is so much I could say. I think I’ve just always been so obsessed with how rich of a history a lot of the characters have and with each other and how really the show only scratches the surface of that.

There is just something so compelling to me about all the implied history that we don’t see. I really love the fact that they didn’t feel the need to tell us everything but we get little hints or glimpses that really makes all the characters so dimensional.

Even with Rachel and Tim who both really only got one individual plot line in the 6 seasons. It leaves you desperate for more. Both glimpses into their personal lives were intriguing.

[starshard17]

Roceit | "Don't be Dramatic."

Roceit fic for @aidensm8

Pairing: Romantic(?) Roceit

Summary: Hurt comfort : Takes place after POF : Janus realizes how badly he really messed up and tries to help Roman feel better

---

"Oh, Roman, thank god you don't have a mustache. Otherwise, between you and Remus, I wouldn't know who the evil twin is."

Hurtful.

"Thomas... I thought I was your hero..."

"Y-you are!"

Liar.

"Roman. Everything's gonna be okay, kiddo. We love you."

LIARS. The lot of them. Roman thought back on all of their words as he choked on his tears. He had thrown all his valuables to the floor. Some of them even shattered. His artwork was torn off the walls. There were mirror shards spread across the floor, blood dripping off Roman's knuckles and onto the floor. He wiped away his tears.

Some hero he was. No wonder why Thomas didn't view him as the high and mighty prince he used to be.

He heard three sharp knocks on his door and he buried his face in his plush pillows.

"Go away!" Came Roman's muffled yell. He could care less who was at the door, he didn't want to see anyone. He clearly heard the side at the door grunt and knock again.

"Little piggy little piggy. Let me in or I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll blow your house down." Came Janus' voice, annoyance clear in his voice.

"Didn't you hear me?! I said go away! I don't wanna talk to anyone, especially not you." Roman spoke, shrill and loud. Confident in his need for right now. Janus didn't move, knocking again.

"I really hope you built a wall of bricks Roman, or I'm blowing it right down." Janus called out, fiddling with the doorknob, finding it to be locked. He sighed, gripping the knob tight in his palm.

Roman's head shot up as he heard the lock on his door click and he turned to face the door, watching as it creaked open.

"I'll huff. And I'll puff. And I'll- oh." Janus froze with his analogy to the old nursery rhyme, seeing the mess that Roman called a room.

"Looks like you already took care of the big bad wolf's job yourself." Janus said with a grimace, shutting the door behind him. Roman curled up on his bed, a pillow tight in his grip.

"It's your fault." Roman muttered, looking at his cluttered floor. Janus turned away from staring at the mess and took a seat on the foot of Roman's bed, looking at the hurt expression on his face.

"I'm sorry about what I said. It was wrong, but it holds some truth to it. You and Remus are a lot more similar than you think. You're trying to get better, but you know deep down you can never fade away from the evil side of yourself." Janus sneered, crossing his arms. Roman's grip on the pillow tightened, anger boiling up inside of him.

"Like you're any better Mr. Uhm. Mr.. mr..." Roman stumbled over his words, failing to think of an insulting nickname. "You're a liar, you're two-faced! You don't have the right to talk to me like that when you're just as bad!" Roman growled.

"Oh, don't be so dramatic." Janus said with a snicker. Roman scowled.

"Being dramatic is my thing, don't tell me what to do." He hissed, tears dripping off his face. Janus felt his heart shrivel up in his chest. He was quick to slip off his gloves and move close to Roman, gently setting his hands on his cheeks. He ran the pads of his thumbs over the undersides of Roman's eyes, wiping off his tears.

Roman shoved Janus' hands away and it was just then that Janus noticed how big of a mess Roman was. There were scratches on his knuckles and they were still dripping with scarlet red blood. His eyes were red and his eyelids drooped. He moved as if his whole body was weighted down. He seemed to feel heavy and didn't move with the same grace as he normally did.

Did his words really hit him that hard?

"Roman I-" Janus started.

"Save it." Roman groaned, hiding his face. Janus frowned.

"Being dramatic is apparently all I'm good for anymore. That's all anyone ever wants to see. Whether it's a spectacular performance on stage or my pain on camera that's all you want from me!" Roman cried, his voice muffled in his pillow. Janus grabbed Roman's face, tilting it up.

"You missed a few things." Janus muttered to him. Roman sniffled, wiping his eyes and looking down at the bed. Then his eyes drifted to Janus' yellow gloves sat on the bed behind them. He let his gaze travel back up and was met with the soft expression in Janus' eyes.

"What'd I miss?" Roman asked, genuinely confused.

"Your expression of your interests and your displays of love for the others. Beyond the surface of the water there's more to discover deep within it. There are beauties and sights to behold. But there are also terrors. You can't judge the truth of something from the surface. You have to swim deeper to see the truth of the water. You, Roman Sanders, have a lot of beautiful discoveries hiding under your surface, some people are just too scared to take a dive and explore it in fear of the horrible things they're worried to encounter." Janus said, voice clear and calm. Tears welled up in Roman's eyes, dripping down and onto Janus' fingers.

"I for one, am willing to take that dive, and find all of the hidden treasures in your sea of life. I realize what I said awakened the monsters hiding in the darker corners and that scared away the other fish that lived up in the light. But with enough security and safety, they'll feel okay with coming back to the surface. Roman you're incredible. Don't listen to the things people tell you, and for the love of god don't listen to the insults I throw at you. They're meant to be jokes but I should've known you wouldn't take to them lightly. I'm sorry." Janus confessed, rubbing Roman's cheeks with his thumbs. He heard Roman let out a strangled sob and he was quick to wrap his arms around Janus, sobbing into his shoulder.

The deceitful side couldn't help the smile that slipped onto his face and he gently pat Roman's back, shushing him and comforting him as he cried.

"There there my prince. Take your time." Janus cooed, combing his fingers through his hair.

"A-Am I still Thomas' hero?" Roman's voice suddenly spoke, cracking and almost whiny. Janus hummed softly, holding Roman close.

"Oh of course not Roman. Cause why would he want you as his hero." Janus lied, feeling Roman's hands tighten around the fabric of his shirt.

"Why would he?" Roman asked, voice meek and quiet.

"Like I said my prince, there are beautiful discoveries to be made beyond your surface. Thomas has made plenty of those discoveries already. Finding out the different aspects of someone is a journey. Thomas created this whole series to discover himself so that's what he's doing. He trusts you Roman. You don't always make the right decisions, and sure, sometimes the things you've done appear to really have hurt him." Janus stated, feeling Roman twist his shirt in hands. He rested his hands on Roman's to ease him, and the Prince loosened his grip. "But we all have. No one is perfect. Not you. Not me. No one." Janus chirped, moving back to finger-combing Roman's hair.

"You mean it?" Roman asked, sniffling as he turned his head up to face Janus.

A smile crossed his features and he left a soft kiss on Roman's forehead.

"Of course I do. You're perfect in your own, don't let any of us change your mind about that."

"Why'd you have to say what you did in front of Thomas?" Roman asked, looking up to have his eyes meet with Janus'. "Why'd you tell me that I'm the evil twin."

Janus scrunched up his face.

"Did I not just tell you that was all for jokes and fun? You made fun of my name so I poked back." Janus responded with a huff.

"Yeah but me making fun of your name is way more light-hearted than you comparing me to my brother. That really hurt if you couldn't tell by the mess." Roman hissed. Janus rolled his eyes.

"Right right. And I'm supposed to say sorry one hundred times before you believe me? I apologized, what more do you want." Janus groaned, crossing his arms.

"A kiss maybe? That might help. To know you really do care about me. Like you said you do." Roman offered, looking over to the side, sighing at the piles of papers and drawings on his bedroom floor.

"A kiss? Really? I suppose if you say it'll help, then-" Janus mumbled, grabbing Roman's face and turning him back to him. Roman flushed as he watched Janus lean in closer.

"WHOA WHOA WHOA!" Roman shrieked, shoving him away. "I WAS JOKING, BACK OFF!"

Janus glared and pulled Roman back in close, pressing a kiss to his lips.

Oddly enough, Roman couldn't find it in himself to fight against it and instead melted into it.

It was soft. Comforting. Caring. Loving almost.

As their lips parted Janus caressed Roman's cheeks with his hands.

"Well?" Janus muttered, rubbing Roman's temples with his index finger and thumb.

Roman's eyes filled with tears.

"T-Thank you." He muttered, hugging Janus tightly, burying his face in his chest.

[deathbyvalentine]

Lifeblood Fic

The way the wind ruffled his hair.

This is where he loved him best. 

Horatio leaned on the bulwark of the ship, smile on his face, the smell of salt and water dominating the air. The waves crashed below, sending sprays of fine mist into the air. Horatio’s hair was already curling with the moisture. Slowly, the land was fading away, leaving them alone on the wide sea. 

As much as he loved this, it wasn’t the reason he was smiling. It was Aubrey. While Horatio adored this life, the sea and the ship, it was more than that with Aubrey. Aubrey was a natural here, as much a part of the ship as the sails, and as much a part of the sea as the salt. Horatio loved watching him, the way he commanded, the way he unfolded the maps, how he looked sun-tanned and free. Travel is where they were most themselves.

He was sat on the bridge after the sunset, watching the skies as one by one stars flickered into view. He was learning the constellations by heart, bit by bit. Aubrey said that you could find your way home by them, if you ever got lost. Looking at the sky, his heart felt full somehow, like it was too beautiful for him to take. And when it couldn’t get any better, Aubrey sat beside him, their fingers just overlapping. 

He’d do anything for him, he realised, with an almost frightening jolt. He would die for him, he would kill for him, he would bring the horizon to their feet for him. He leaned over, and kissed him, fierce in his intensity. Aubrey started, but smiled into it, by now more than used to his fire-mages bursts of feeling. 

It should be like this, always, Horatio thought. Them, the ocean, and the stars watching them. 

“What good are all these signs and portents, these signs of much needed change, if we are too afraid to act?”

Horatio straightened his back, and trained his gaze dead ahead. There was a knack to being a good bodyguard, and half of it was appearing as if you weren’t listening to important conversations. Luckily, the class divide probably lead most of the nobles here to believe he wouldn’t understand the intricacies of such politics.

Interestingly, when he was in the local pub, the locals believed the same thing of their lords and masters. Many of them believed the intricacies of the problems of the lower classes were lost on the great and good. Thinking back on his childhood, he had to agree with them.

There were whispers that troubled him. Whispers of a big change, something coming in on the wind, something different. The king was dead, and something had killed him. Clearly something was wrong, or different, or dangerous. But maybe things could be changed completely. People whispered about not needing kings. Not needing anybody. Horatio downed his drink and went back to the castle.

All he knew was that everybody had to tread carefully.

Shimmer bay was spectacular in the sunshine , the azure sea sparkled and on the roof terraces of their whitewashed homes, wealthy spice merchants were entertaining their guests as they waited to catch a glimpse of the Dragon Flight returning to base.

The crowd around the pier was perfect. All of them, looking to the sky, the bright sun often clouding their vision. 

Nobody noticed a small red headed child darting between them, dipping his fingers into pockets and baskets, taking pocket watches, coins and jewellery. It was rich pickings, and he was beside himself. This could feed his family for months, if he was clever. Which, as he knew, he was.

You had to be to live the life he had. Every day was a challenge in surviving, a puzzle to solve where the only prize was making it to the light day. He had sweated out deadly diseases, perfected the art of pickpocketing, could make a small amount of food last days. He was quick, and he was cunning, and he was fairly sure that he might be magic.

Sometimes his hands felt too hot, and nothing could cool them down. His fevers got so warm his mother couldn’t touch his forehead. Sometimes just before he fell asleep he would hear whispers from voices he didn’t recognise, and even when he covered his ears they still persisted. Sometimes he thought he saw people out the corner of his eye. Those last two scared him almost more than anything. 

But in the bright sunlight, the dead were the furthest thing from his mind. His pockets were jangling with stolen coins, the sea was shimmering like diamonds, and even his mouth dropped open in awe as a dragon soared overheard, it’s wings casting a shadow that covered the entire crowd.

The Borenas family were not a Noble House, it was not because of their lack of land holdings, the wealth they had won at sea more than made up for that. It was perhaps because the other houses still though of them as newcomers, as the descendants of pirates and adventurers. The Nobles of Rayern were snobbish about such things.

The first fight he got into for his found family, his lip split right down the middle, leaving him bloody and furious. He had fought like an uncivilised wildcat, scratching and biting, and the noble child of another family would carry the scars on his arm for life. Tannis had been quietly disappointed, his own magical tutor furious and vicious. 

The second fight was better, with the stable boy of the Eletrios. He had called Horatio an orphan and a scrounger, and spat at his feet. He had scarcely time to think before he had shoved him to the ground, and pummelled him into a fine pulp. He had been pulled off by the stable master, and sent packing. The boy had had burns. Nothing serious, but serious enough.

Three more fights before he had been asked why. He had been too ashamed to answer. Years later, when he had learnt to supress the violence that bubbled up within him, the reasons remained, making him bristle whenever the slights came. 

 There were two reasons. The first - he was fiercely proud of Borenas. They weren’t like the other houses, growing old and complacent from past victories, never changing or adapting, living from glories long done with. They adventured, they discovered, they lived freely. The only reason they were not recognised as a house was due to their relative newness, and their modest routes. He had been taken into this house when he had nothing. He took any slight against their honour as a slight to him. 

And that went even deeper, leading to reason two. He was hyper aware he couldn’t carry the official name, that his was a ward’s. That he had no blood relation, nor was he officially adopted. He was not a noble, even if he had their manners and arrogance. Spilling blood in the name of his house made him feel as if he belonged, as if he really could be one of them. His beatings were most reserved for those who implied he was nothing but a servant, or worse, an orphan to be pitied.

He felt a little less powerless when he corrected those assumptions. Like with every bruise he called, he was proving who he belonged to.

The servant handed him a boat cloak, he hadn’t even noticed it was raining, it was a thoughtful gesture. The shore line was retreating fast, Tannis wondered if he had made the right decision leaving his brother in charge but it was too late now to turn back.

The palace felt a oddly quiet without Tannis and his retinue. He was a constant presence, one that comforted and frustrated Horatio in equal measure. Tannis made him want to be a better person, to live up to the potential the man had seen in him. Which made it all the more frustrating when he felt he didn’t yet live up to that potential. He hated disappointing him with a burning passion, and felt he did it altogether far too often. 

But also, him being gone meant a little more freedom. They could loosen the constraints on behaviour just a little. They laughed more freely, explored the palace with less caution. Aubrey being in charge meant they could do what they wished, to an extent. 

They walked in the garden in the rain, kissing where nobody could see them. They had wine at odd hours, and eat breakfast far too late. While the business of the land still had to be done and done well, it could be done with a little less regimented timing.

But yet he missed the man he considered his brother. His concern, his love, his counsel. A little time without him was fine, too long and they would miss him. He was the glue that held the family together, and kept them on the straight and narrow.

The King Is Dead

The messenger finished speaking, and the room fell silent. Not just silent, frozen. Horatio grabbed the table closest to him, gripping it so tightly his knuckles turned white. He needed to feel something solid as the room felt like it was sliding away beneath him. He glanced past the irrelevant, his eyes finding his lover’s. Aubrey’s face was blank, unreadable to anybody but him.

They had to stay for far too long, the elders beginning to fuss, to sob, to make plans. Horatio stayed in his position, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, pretending not to hear anything as he always did. He was invisible to most of these people, and that was honestly how he liked it. Like right now, nobody would notice how his hand was shaking, or how he was blinking just a little too much. Nobody noticed how uneven his breathing was. 

The meeting elapsed past midnight, when the candles had started to burn low, dripping wax onto the cabinets and tables. It was dark outside, and Horatio’s back was starting to twinge from the effort of being bolt upright for so long. They were finally dismissed, and they could leave.

As they walked through the palace, all that could be heard was the weeping and wailing of those bereaved. Horatio couldn’t quite believe this was real, any of it. It felt like one of his frequent bad dreams, one of those where he woke up and had to check that the body beside him was still breathing. Tannis couldn’t be dead. Not the kind young man who had saved him, who had become like a brother to him. Who had introduced him to a whole new life, to the love of his life. Everything came back to him. 

Usually when the day was over, they would go back to Aubrey’s apartments. He would undress him, wash him, and then they would talk for hours, heads bowed close, never growing tired of each other. Sometimes he would make the fire in his hands dance, make patterns and shapes for their amusement. They would talk of the future, of all that lay before them. They would fall asleep together, their chests rising and falling like the ocean they so loved. 

They walked into his dark apartment, and shut the door behind them. Silence fell between them. Horatio didn’t know what to say. No words came. On autopilot, he began to push the doublet from Aubrey’s chest, fingers fumbling as they found the lacing. Halfway through, he gave up, and suddenly buried his face in Aubrey, tears coming more easily than words.

This was all wrong, he thought blindly, suddenly. He needed to comfort Aubrey, not the other way around. He was his protector after all, even from this. Especially from this, he stood up straight, furiously wiping away his tears before pulling his love into his embrace. He could feel his shoulders shaking. Words weren’t coming, so he hummed something as stroked his skin, some old lullaby his mother used to sing to him, barely on the edge of memory. There was no coming back from this. Everything had to change. They had to change with it.

[juicy-cookie]

Through The Valley - Chapter 10

Fic Summary: A deeper look into The Sanctuary.

Boy meets girl. Girl meets boy. Boy has a weird obsession with a baseball bat, promiscuity and the word “fuck”. Girl has to find out if she can look past these things. Also, zombies and shit.

AO3 Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/10075958/chapters/25085109

Tags: @rickdixonandthefandomlifeposts @embracetheapocalypsewithme @redisunamused @kinkozan @lupienne @theblack-wolf @lovingzombiechaos @dragonracer @miiraal

Pairing: Negan X OFC

Chapter Summary:  Snow Days

(Chapter 10 whaaaat??? Thanks to those people that keep reading this and I hope you enjoy this chapter)

Word Count: 4802

Negan walked into the hall with a spring in his step and a smile on his face. His mood was exceptionally good this morning. The wives had convinced him to join them for breakfast and it had been an unusually pleasant affair, with barely any bitching going on. Instead, they had all been flirtatious and attentive and it had resulted in a memorable foursome, with him fucking Valerie from behind, while Valerie was eating out Becky, while Tara sat on Becky’s face.

With breakfast long over, the cafeteria was almost empty and he scanned the hall for the one thing that could make his morning even more enjoyable. He found her in her usual spot on one of the sofas in the recreational area, closest to the small wood-burning stove that they had set up and running to provide some more warmth during the winter.

She was deep in thought over some papers in her lap, her facial expressions and movements ranging from frowning, to biting her lower lip to chewing on the pencil in her right hand. The latter was a rather disgusting habit of hers, but it was the entire scope of her mannerisms, right down to the thick green socks on her feet that were nearly falling apart and which she refused to throw away, that made Lilly, Lilly.

Negan realized that he had been staring at her and shook his head to pull his mind away from her lips and her feet to approach the object of his musings and plop down next to her.

“Morning sugartits.”

“Morning fancy-face.”

He chuckled and leaned closer to her to see what she was working on. The stupid nicknames had become a daily ritual, with an unspoken competition between the two of them who could come up with the silliest moniker. Lilly had come close to winning the morning before, when she had answered his “Morning sweetcheeks,” with a grin and a “Morning candy dick,” that had nearly caused him to spit out his coffee.

“Why the fuck are you doing points? I thought Laura finished the lists last night.”

“Yeah, but some of them didn’t add up this morning, so I told her I’d have a look at them.”

Negan sighed and rolled his eyes. Sometimes he felt like he was surrounded by idiots. It was a good thing that his newest lieutenant was so anal about the points and inventory lists.

“Did you see that shit outside?” He put his arm on the headrest behind her in hopes of getting her attention, since she had yet to look up from her papers. Lilly seemed unable to tear her gaze away from them, though.

“If by ‘shit’ you mean ‘snow’, then yes. It was kind of hard to miss when I looked out of the window first thing this morning. I already made snow angels with the kids.”

“Pfff… fucking snow just means more fucking work clearing paths around Sanctuary.”

“It also means frozen walkers. And fun. Don’t worry, I sent out a team to do some shoveling.”

He grinned to himself while he watched her correcting the last couple of pages. In the few short months that Lilly had been at Sanctuary, she had fast become one of the most productive members of his community. She was already sharing responsibilities with Dwight when it came to organizing scavenging runs, while showing no hesitation of going out there herself to get her hands dirty. She also had a knack for keeping some of the weight off Negan’s back when it came to the more tedious tasks of leading a group, like assigning snow shoveling duty to a bunch of lazy fucks and dealing with their resulting complaints.

“Thanks babe. I might just be able to retire soon if you keep doing my work,” he stated half-jokingly. She usually got testy whenever he made quips about her taking over Sanctuary and was very vocal about having no leadership ambitions, but he could not help himself from testing the waters from time to time. Sure enough, she finally looked up from the lists with a raised eyebrow.

“No rest for the wicked, Your Highness. Here, these should be in order now.” She handed him the points lists so he could use them for commissary this week. He folded them and threw them on the coffee table.

“So… snow angels? Why would you willingly go out there in the freezing fucking cold?”

“I love snow. It reminds me of home.”

“And what’s home?”

“Michigan. Halfway between Grand Rapids and Lake Michigan to be exact. We used to have some spectacular winters when I was young.”

“You never told me you’re from fucking Michigan.”

“You never asked.”

He didn’t know what to say to that. He suddenly became painfully aware of the fact that he didn’t know anything about Lilly from before the world went to shit. That was something that needed to be amended.

“So how the fuck did you end up in bumfuck Maryland?”

“Got into Johns Hopkins, got a job in Annapolis after finishing my degree, tried to get to DC when the dead started walking. You know the rest of the story.”

“Annapolis, huh? I used to visit the beach at Sandy Point from time to time. Just my fucking luck that I never ran into your sexy ass.” He was also intimately familiar with the hospital there, but he kept that to himself.

“Sandy Point is nice. Crowded, though. Well, not anymore I guess. Where are you from, then?”

“Crofton, born and raised. Most boring fucking place on earth.”

“Aww, poor Negan. And what did you do there besides being bored?”

“Being the best fucking middle school gym teacher in the whole fucking county.”

“Seriously? You were a teacher?”

“Yeah yeah, I know. How can a bad motherfucker like me be allowed to teach kids…”

“No, I’m sure you made an awesome teacher. It’s just that I used to be one, too. I taught at St. John’s.”

“Oooooh… look at the fancy fucking college professor. I’m pretty sure there’s some kind of fetish to be explored here somewhere.” He winked at her and she laughed. He would have loved to elaborate on this particular topic, but they were interrupted by the arrival of Jax, Dwight, Connor, Gavin and Andrei. He was one of the scouts that commuted between the outposts and took their motorcycles into cities to look for potential places to scavenge. He also had the annoying habit of making moves on Lilly whenever he spent time at Sanctuary.

“Hello lovely.”

“Morning Andrei,” she smiled at him, “Did you have any problems getting here in this kind of weather?”

He took off his gloves and sat on the armrest right next to Lilly with a cocky grin on his face.

“Nah. A real biker doesn’t care about a little snow.”

“Jax and Gavin need some practice on the bikes,” Dwight addressed Negan.

“How good are we on gas?” Negan did not like the idea of them wasting fuel just so they could frolic in the snow.

“We’ve got more than enough. The weather isn’t so bad yet and all the dead are frozen, so the noise won’t be a problem.”

“Fine. Get the fuck out of here, then. Only for an hour, though.”

“You wanna join us darling? I can show you how to ride,” Andrei asked suggestively.

“Fuck no! No way am I going to get on one of those hell beasts.” Negan’s mood got even better. Lilly turned to look at Jax next and raised her index finger at him, “And if I see you without a helmet out there I’m going to whoop your ass.”

“Yes, mom,” Jax chuckled and the group of men made their way to the Sanctuary’s front doors.

Lilly stretched her legs and put her feet up on the coffee table, her head falling back against the headrest and his forearm. He damned the cold weather even more now, forcing him to wear his leather jacket and not being able to feel her hair on his skin. She stared at her feet and it seemed like she took a particular interest at the holes in her woolen socks. The blank face told him that she had one of her brain resets, though. He couldn’t blame her, really. Between correcting points, entertaining the children and assigning daily duties, her day had already been pretty busy and it wasn’t even noon yet. He almost felt bad that all he done so far was getting his dick wet.

“So you’re afraid of fucking motorcycles?” He tried to engage her again, “And here I thought you weren't scared of anything.” He wrapped a strand of her black hair around his finger and tugged lightly to bring her back to reality. She wiggled her toes and looked up at him.

“I’m afraid of lots of things. Motorcycles, bears, heights, werewolves…”

He laughed at that. “Good fucking thing you only have to deal with fucking zombies.”

“True. What are you afraid of?”

Large dogs. Loss of control. Hospitals…

“Abso-fucking-lutely nothing. Told you I’m a bad motherfucker.”

“Uh-huh. And I’m Santa. By the way, I should probably go take a look how the snow shoveling is coming along.”

“No, I’ll go. You take the rest of the day off and catch up on some fucking sleep or knitting or rubbing one out while thinking of me.” He winked at her and stood up. She craned her neck to give him a smile and he tried to convince himself that this one was much more genuine than what she had showed Andrei earlier.

“Thanks boss. I owe you one.” That was kind of ironic, considering she had kept the Sanctuary up and running during his short absence this morning.

“Heh, yeah. Better not fucking go there babe. See you later.” He turned to go look for the snow crew before his big mouth told her exactly what she could do to make it up to him.

The following couple of weeks were slow and dark and cold. The weather had been relatively stable so far, but right after New Year’s, a massive blizzard hit the area and the Sanctuary was wrapped in a blanket of snow and ice. All scavenging was put on hold since they only had one army truck equipped for this kind of weather. Negan was once more proud of his foresight. Inventory was still full with rice that would last them through the rest of the winter and he had made sure back in the fall that enough trees around Sanctuary were cut down so they could keep the furnace in the hall and the stoves in the dormitory and the single rooms burning throughout the next couple of weeks.

His Saviors were in hibernation. Most slept a lot, others socialized more than usual and it only took him two times of threatening people with the hot iron until the occasional fights ceased completely. Or at least, people made sure he wasn’t around when tempers flared too high.

Lilly’s room had become sort of a refuge for him and some others, like Jax, Connor, Seth, Paula and Laura. It was one of the biggest rooms on the third floor, where the lieutenants lived and she wasn’t sharing it with anyone. With the Tower rec room pretty much abandoned and the hall packed with people at all times, the long winter nights were spent playing cards on her bed and passing around the occasional bottle of booze to keep their insides warm.

This morning after breakfast they had once more migrated to Lilly’s place. Connor and Seth were engaged in a battle of chess, while Negan got comfortable on Lilly’s bed, playing cards with Jax and the girls.

“Negan, any fours?”

“Go fucking fish! You have to take off your shirt now.”

“For the last time, we’re not playing strip Go Fish!”

“I’m your boss, you gotta do as I say.” This statement and his pouting earned him a couple of chuckles from the others.

“Can you imagine having someone like that as a leader?” Laura asked while rearranging her cards.

“It sucks, trust me,” Jax answered ominously and Lilly was quick to change the topic:

“Yeah, we’re lucky we ended up here. At least this one doesn’t have shit for brains.”

“Oh please. It was my awesome fucking charm and personality that convinced you to come with us. Not to mention my panty-combusting good looks.” Negan winked at Lilly.

“Your looks? No. It was Lucille that caught my attention,” she said while picking up the bat from its spot against the bedframe and twirling it in her hand, “All soft curves and sharp edges…,” she continued while stroking her thumb over the wood and watching the light reflect from the barbed wire.

“Holy fucking shit woman! Do you want me to nut in front of all these people?”

“Now that's a challenge if I ever heard one,” Lilly grinned and set Lucille back out of sight.

“Jesus fucking Christ, get a room you two!” Seth exclaimed from his spot at the small table by the window.

“We are in a fucking room, dipshit.”

“Yeah. And it’s MY room, and I can do all the nutting I want in here.”

Negan broke into a booming laugh and was just about to comment on Lilly’s ability to make people orgasm, when a knock on her door made everyone look up. Without waiting for an invitation, the door opened to reveal Carson, who looked even more timid than usual.

“Sir, we’ve got a problem.”

“What the fuck is it now? Is Dwight complaining about the Tower rec room again? I told him it’s his fucking responsibility to heat it if he insists on spending his free time there.”

“No, Sir. It’s… it’s the rice. The kitchen crew wanted to start preparing lunch and dinner and they discovered that it’s spoiled. I think it’s some kind of fungus. We opened all the rice sacks and there’s only two or three of them that doesn’t have mold in them.” Carson looked close to crying and he flinched when Negan jumped up from the bed and his lieutenants followed suit.

“Are you absolutely fucking sure that all the food has gone bad? How the fuck did this happen?” he asked in an increasingly louder voice. This couldn’t be happening. Maybe they all didn’t know shit about rice. Maybe it was just some bugs. They could still eat rice with some bugs in it, right?

“It might be the weather,” Connor offered as an explanation, even if it was far from helpful at the moment, “The storage room can get damp, but it’s not cold enough in there to freeze the food.”

“And why the fuck has nobody fucking thought about this before we put the motherfucking rice in there?” Negan yelled before he felt a hand on his arm. Lilly looked up at him with concern in her eyes, but she tried to diffuse the situation.

“Don’t panic yet. Let’s go down there and have a look. There might have been a mistake.”

He wiped a hand over his face, concentrating hard on not letting anyone see that he was shaking.

“Yeah… yes, you’re right. Let’s see if there’s been a mistake.”

There wasn’t.

A light blanket of gray fur covered the topmost layer of rice inside every sack they looked into. Negan did not lose any time and called for a meeting with his lieutenants. He had to get busy to keep himself from freaking out. Dwight and Lilly were tasked with finding a way to get supplies. Negan told them to go every route they could take with the army truck, whether it be the other communities, hunting, or scavenging, preferably further South along the coast. He ordered the scouts to try to get to the outposts and tell them that Hilltop and the Kingdom had to give up half of their supplies now, as long as it didn’t leave them starving. The rest of his lieutenants were told to organize food rationing and to make sure people wouldn’t panic.

His own panic was an entirely different problem. How could he have been so stupid as to solely rely on the rice? Dwight and Lilly did their best while going out with their teams, but the weather got even worse, with snow storms being an almost daily occurrence now. Lilly tried to go hunting once, but came back nearly frozen to death. While wrapping two wool blankets around her shivering body on the rec room sofa, Negan told her he would use the handcuffs from their first night together and tie her to her bed if she ever snuck out again.

The first week after the mold discovery, they managed to keep the news from people at Sanctuary, but after the tenth day without rice and with decreasing portion sizes, rumors began to spread and the Saviors started to get nervous.

A group of people were standing in Negan’s office, demanding to know what was going on, while he summoned his biggest inner asshole and told them to shut the fuck up and get the fuck out. No one would starve, not while he was leader, but he only told that to himself, repeating it in his mind over and over again.

He had just managed to either threaten or calm down the mob enough so they would leave, when there was another knock on his door and Lilly walked in. He was grateful for the distraction, even if he would have preferred for her to be able to go outside scavenging. The way she was nervously chewing on her lower lip and how she twisted her hands in front of her made his stomach sink. She sat down on the edge of the chair in front of his desk instead of assuming her usual relaxed posture.

“There’s something I need to tell you.”

“The only thing I can deal with right now is for you to ask me to fuck you on this desk,” he joked, but he already knew it had to be something important if she came to him instead of trying to deal with it on her own.

“Negan…,” she pleaded, clearly not in the mood for their usual flirtatious banter.

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Alright, what the fuck is it this time?”

“I think I have a solution to our problem,” she said while holding out her palm to him. In her hand was a small key, of the kind you would use for a padlock. Negan took it and stared at it for a couple of seconds, before raising his eyebrows in her direction to show her that he was waiting for an explanation.

“There’s a shed, not far from where you found me and Jax. It’s filled with food cans and rice,  stored in airtight plastic containers and with packs of silica gel to control moisture. It should be enough to get us through the next couple of weeks until the weather lets up. It will take a while for us to get there with the truck, but if we leave today…”

Negan didn’t let her finish. He slammed his hand with the key on his desk and she flinched.

“Are you fucking telling me…,” his voice was dangerously low, “that you kept a whole fuck-ton of fucking food from me? From us?” He didn’t look at her. He couldn’t. Rage had started to boil hot in his belly and he forced himself to stare at the treacherous key on his desk, instead of looking into those green eyes of hers that had only ever given him positive emotions so far.

“I’m so sorry Negan…,” she whispered and he could hear the tears in her eyes, “It was my backup in case things didn’t work out here.”

He got up so violently that his chair crashed into the wall behind him.

“Your backup, huh? Your fucking backup? You fucking lied to me, Lilly. I remember asking you if we had taken everything…”

“And you had! I told you we had taken everything useful from the house…”

“Fuck you Lilly! For motherfucking fuck’s sake!” He spun around to tower over her. She had the sense not to continue her train of thought. He could see through the red veil of anger that she looked miserable; guilty and scared.

“We’ve been talking about people starving to fucking death. There are fucking kids in here that go hungry. And you’re only telling me about this shit now?”

“I thought we’d manage…”

“Well we clearly fucking don’t, Lil. You fucking lied to me. You kept this shit from me because of your stupid fucking paranoias. Because you always fucking need a backup of a backup of a fucking backup.”

“You know why I am like that.”

“I don’t give a flying fuck if your former leaders gave you fucking issues. When have I ever given you any fucking reason not to trust me?” Apart from the obvious problem of her keeping food from his people, that was the other reason for his rage. That she didn’t trust him.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Negan,” she sounded like a broken record now and he didn’t care about her excuses, “I’m going to get Dwight and maybe Laura and Gavin and we’ll leave within the hour.”

“Oh no. You’re not going any-fucking-where. In fact, you’re fucking forbidden from leaving the fucking Tower for at least a month.”

“You’re grounding me?” The threat had brought back some of her fighting spirits. To anyone else, this would have been a relatively mild punishment, but Negan knew how much she valued her hunting and scavenging privileges, not to mention the laps she ran around Sanctuary every other day to keep healthy.

“You bet your fucking ass I am. You behave like some fucking teenage girl keeping secrets from her parents, you get treated like one. Jax is going to take Dwight to that shed.”

That made her jump up.

“No! Negan, you know Jax isn’t as capable as others out there.”

“I don’t fucking care. He knew about that food, too, right? This is his punishment as well as yours for not telling me about it. Now stop fucking arguing and get the fuck out before I think of something else, like demoting you, or throwing both your asses out into the fucking cold.”

For a moment she looked as if she wanted to continue fighting with him about it. Her chest was heaving and there were fresh tears in her eyes, but this time, they seemed to come from anger instead of guilt and fear. Negan’s jaw was set in a hard line and he put his hands on his hips, as if to challenge her. He almost wanted her to keep arguing so he could take his anger out on her some more. After a moment, she seemed to deflate in front of him and turned around to leave.

When she reached the door, she faced him again. “I really am sorry, Negan. You’re right. I should have trusted you more, instead of endangering everyone. I hope I can make it up to you.”

Her steps echoed through the hallway until he was left with silence and the hopes that the truck would get through to the place where she had stored the food. It would mean that they would survive this winter and Negan swore to himself that he would never rely on only one food source ever again.

It took Dwight, Jax and Gavin two days to collect the stuff from the shed and get back to Sanctuary. The rice was blessedly unspoiled and Negan wasn’t the only one who claimed to have developed an irrational distaste for it. They all kept eating it, of course, but he made a mental note about getting Marv and his crew to build those greenhouses and to look into potential fields to grow crops come spring. He also declared that the other communities would have to keep up with providing them with half their supplies. Anything to keep the risk of facing such a catastrophe again at a minimum.

Fortunately, as January ended, so did the snowfall. People were able to work outside again and the depleted supplies were restocked by his scavengers and by March, everything seemed to be back to normal, the Sanctuary standing tall and proud in the first rays of an increasingly stronger spring sun. Negan should have been elated that they had come out of their first bad winter unscathed, but the truth was that he was miserable.

While Lilly was allowed outside again, he still had not given her her responsibilities back and she had yet to be assigned to a scavenging run. Negan was still seething about her lack of trust and foresight and she seemed to react to his ongoing punishment with icy cold glares and that was only when she wasn’t avoiding him as much as possible. He had kept her slip-up a secret from the other Saviors so as not to add insult to injury for her. However, he couldn’t help but think that grounding her had been just as much punishment for himself as it had been for her.

He missed her. He missed her easy smile and her flirty wit and the way she had never shied away from touching his arm, or his side when she poked him, even if it had never gone any further than that. Instead, she kept ignoring him and the fact that she had become increasingly bitchy with pretty much everyone else didn’t console him one bit. He had caught himself smelling the red scarf she had given him on more than one occasion, even with her scent being almost gone from it.

Her bad mood kept coming up as a topic of conversation between his other lieutenants and he couldn’t blame them. One morning after breakfast, she walked up to their table to ask Seth for the points list to check something, doing her best to look anywhere but at Negan.

“Sorry Lil, I haven’t finished them yet. I can bring them to you this afternoon if you want.”

“Don’t fucking bother! I need them now. Why can’t any of you ever do their fucking jobs?” She ranted and the people around Negan gasped. Seth stared at her slack-jawed. He had always been friendly with her.

“Calm down! Jeez Lil, what the fuck is the matter with you? You on the rag or something?” Seth asked, clearly shocked at her outburst.

“Fuck you, Seth!” Lilly growled, her face a mixture of rage and sadness, before she turned on her heels and stomped back to the stairs and up into the Tower.

“What the hell? What was that all about?” Seth and the others broke out into incredulous whispers.

“Don’t know, don’t care,” Negan declared before standing up to leave for his office. He didn’t want to be around while his lieutenants kept speculating about the source of Lilly’s abysmal mood. Although he silently agreed that her reaction had been extreme and more than just a little out of character.

He spent the rest of the morning pouring over schedules, inventory lists and scavenging plans and it all made him even more acutely aware of Lilly’s physical and mental absence. He really could have used her help in all of this. His pride forbade him from making up with her just yet, though, even if his callous comments added even more fuel to the ever burning rumor mill at Sanctuary.

He was just about ready to throw the papers that were scattered all over his desk to the ground in one sweep of his arm, when a knock on his office door distracted him from his ever-growing frustrations. He called for the person on the other side to come in, thinking maybe it was Dwight with another list of stuff people needed, or maybe a wife to complain about the lack of makeup in inventory. He was therefore surprised when it was Lilly who walked into the room. He briefly debated whether he should feel happy or annoyed about her turning up. He settled for happy, only to turn to concerned when he finally got the first chance in weeks to properly look at her. She was ridiculously pale, her skin carrying a green tinge and a thin layer of sweat was visible above her white lips. Something was very clearly wrong and he felt the strong urge to walk around his desk to help her sit down and to cover her with his jacket.

“Negan, I… I need to talk to you.”

[pocket-anon]

Operation: First Noel (4/7)

Day 4 of @xhookswenchx's Gutter Flower Secret Santa gift fic! I couldn't do a Gutter Flower gift and not have it include some smut. Not to mention the fact that I haven't written anything really spicy since Scar Tissue, and I needed to stretch those muscles, so to speak. LOL. Hope you enjoy. As I have been all week, I'll do my best to get Chapter 5 out tomorrow, but I'm a little behind on that one and work-related things are calling. Thanks so much to everyone for reading and commenting/tagging as always!

Find it on AO3.  Missed a chapter?  Get caught up here.

Summary:  When the residents of Storybrooke enjoy a rare period of peace over the holiday season, Henry asks his family for something he’s never had - a real Christmas. A series of holiday vignettes. (Captain Swan/Captain Cobra/Captain Charming.  Canon Divergent.  Domestic Fluff, Humor, & Smut.   Rated E purely for Chapter 4.)

Requested tags: @optomisticgirl, @deathbycaptainswan.  Want to be tagged on updates?  Let me know!

Chapter 4: The Cookie Pirate

Killian finds Emma in the kitchen on her Friday afternoon off, more upbeat songs about Christmas playing and the heady smell of baked treats in the air.  Her back is turned to him as she works at the kitchen counter, ponytail swaying and bobbing with a life of its own as she gently rocks in time to the beat.  She peeks at him out of the corner of her eye, a smile curving her mouth.  “Hey.”

“Hello, love.”  He grins.  

As she rotates slightly, his eyes fall to the still-subtle curve of her belly, and his face blooms into an involuntary smile as he approaches, absently removing his hook and setting it on the table with the hollow thunk of metal on wood. “Something smells bloody brilliant.” He shrugs off his coat and drapes it over the nearest chair before clicking his hook back into place and wandering to her side.

“Christmas cookies,” she hums, thick lashes fluttering as his lips find the apple of her cheek.  “For the dinner at my parents’ tomorrow.” Emma gestures at a baking sheet full of star-shaped cookies on the counter in front of him, half of which are neatly covered in white icing.  She picks up an unadorned cookie and draws his attention to the small metal spatula she wields in her other hand, dipping it into a large bowl of icing and waffling it carefully across the cookie’s surface in order to try to cover every square inch.  

Her brow wrinkles indignantly as Killian lifts an unfrosted cookie from the sheet and takes a bite. “Hey!”

He grins, unrepentant, and gives a happy hum as he swallows the chewy morsel.  “Delicious.”

Emma rolls her eyes and swipes her spatula through the bowl of icing again.  “If you’re going to pirate my cookies, at least try them with icing the way nature intended,” she says, reaching across.  He obliges her by holding what remains of his cookie still so she can smear the creamy confection all over the top, catching the tips of his fingers in the process, and she gestures resignedly when she finishes. “As you were.”

Blue eyes twinkling, he pops the rest of the cookie in his mouth in one go, cheeks bulging as he chews.

She chuckles at his ridiculousness.   “Better?” She arches an eyebrow.

Killian nods emphatically, savoring the extra sweetness before he swallows.  “Bloody brilliant,” he says with a wink.  He reaches out and wraps his left arm around her hip to turn her toward him.  “My compliments to the chef.”

Emma smiles as he closes the distance between them, inhaling deeply when his lips find hers.   He grins.  She tastes like peppermint-laced heaven.  He leisurely explores her mouth, and she mewls in that way that tells him she wants this to go past innocent kiss territory, the sound going straight to his groin.  Killian growls in response.  One amazing, unanticipated effect of Emma’s pregnancy, especially these last few weeks, has been a frankly ravenous desire for him at pretty much all times of day, and bloody hell, has he been happy – ecstatic, really – to accommodate her when she’s accosted him in the shower or gotten amorous on the sofa or even – and especially – that day he was doing maintenance on the Jolly and she poofed over during her lunch hour in order to have him three times in his old quarters before straightening herself up, kissing his awestruck face, and poofing back to the Sheriff’s station.

He cups the side of her neck and kisses her deeper, feeling her heart rate quickening as he plunders her mouth, and she moans, throwing her arms around his neck and sinking her fingers into his hair.  “Wanna take this upstairs?” she breathes in between kisses, giggling as he hums his affirmative into her mouth.  He means to sweep her into his arms and haul her away, but even with his eyes closed he can sense the swirl of magical white smoke that immediately engulfs them, and a quick peek a moment later confirms that she’s transported them to their bedroom. He chuckles.  Patience has never been his Emma’s strong suit, especially not lately.  Not that he’s complaining.

They break apart for moment to yank her baggy red sweater up over her head, and a flash of white catches his eye.  Killian gives a little laugh when he realizes that his fingers have trailed a few sugary smears down side of her neck.  He draws her close and gently runs his thumb along the angle of her jaw.  “I seem to have made a bit of a mess here with the icing, love,” he says, ducking his head down with a devilish smile, “Allow me.”  

He plies her flesh with his mouth, attacking just above her collarbone and laving his way up toward her ear, her skin a mixture of sweet icing and salty sweat.  Breathy gasps escape her, her fingers smoothing over his shoulders and lightly clawing at the skin between his shoulder blades, and she palpably shivers when he pauses a moment to suck on her pulse.

Her hands fly unseeing to release the buttons on his waistcoat and shirt before undoing his belt with frightening efficiency, and she hums with satisfaction.  They joked once about how much easier it would be for her to just magic their clothes off, but that was when she’d admitted that she actually enjoys this part sometimes – the part where she gets to pull apart the buttons and buckles that hold him together and peel back the layers, exposing him in a way that is for her eyes only.  Her possessiveness thrills him endlessly; he relishes belonging to her, relishes being the lucky fool that she, the most glorious creature under the sun, chose to be her partner.

He releases her long enough to unfasten his brace and hang it, hook attached, on the looped leather strap he keeps tied to one bedpost just before she pounces again, sealing her lips over his and yanking his shirt tails free in order to shove the open button-down and waistcoat off his shoulders.  Her fingers rake down his chest, and her tongue curls around his aggressively as she allows him to back her up toward the bed, virtually purring when he snakes his left arm tightly around her middle and draws her flush with him so she can feel the firmness of him pressed right up against her center.  

Killian lowers her to perch on the edge of the mattress, and she hastily slips her nimble fingers beneath his waistband and tugs both his pants and boxer briefs off in one downward motion.  Before he knows it, he’s in her hand, her lips teasing his tip, and his head falls backward with a groan as she proceeds to have her way with him.  Oh, bloody hell.  

If her mouth had been heaven before, he has no words for it now, for the way she uses it to surround him with sinfully wet heat and a dancing tongue that swirls and strokes him until he’s all but gone mad with want.  He watches her through heavy-lidded eyes, desperation on his features, and feels himself simultaneously tensing and unraveling at the sight of at her long closed lashes and her hollowed cheeks and the way his fingers sink into her golden hair along the back of her head near her ponytail, and when he gulps her name like a prayer, she smirks and hums delectably and he goes rocketing over the edge with a suppressed roar.

He’s vaguely aware of her sucking him clean and chuckling as she releases him.  She peels off her panties and leggings and crawls backward on the bed, and it’s all he can do not to topple over, bracing himself on the mattress with his hand while he finishes kicking off his socks and shoes and stumbles, knock-kneed, out of the pants bunched around his calves.  Emma giggles as she watches, and he attempts a chiding smile as he joins her near their headboard.

“It’s bad form, love, laughing at a man you’ve just incapacitated like that.”

She arches an eyebrow smugly.  “And here I thought you’d consider what I just did good form.”

He rumbles with satisfaction, angling his body and lowering himself down on his side in order to hover over her without burdening her under his weight.  “Oh that part was certainly good form,” he smirks, seizing her lips once again.  “Great form,” he mutters.  “Spectacular form.”

Emma chuckles quietly into his mouth, and he cradles her face, his thumb drifting across the swell of her dimpled cheek.  Her laughter gives way to a rapturous sigh when his hand drifts down her throat to cup her breast, delicately tweaking her nipple through her black lace bra until it stiffens.  His fingers wander further south then, skimming across the gentle rise of her once-flat stomach toward her mound and plunging beneath the lacey edge of her panties.  

She suddenly snorts and begins to laugh again, and he pulls back reflexively, a curious grin on his face. “Swan?”

Emma continues to giggle, her hand flying up to cover her mouth.  “Sorry,” she manages.  “I just…” She chortles.  “You’re about to pirate my cookies.”  She erupts into full-fledged laughter that makes her shoulders shake.

Killian’s face splits into a wide smile, and he snickers, his complexion going red.  “Is that what we’re calling it now?” he asks, an amused glint in his eye.  

She quiets as he drifts his calloused fingertips lightly down her belly again, gooseflesh rising in their wake, and he hums with approval when they seek her core and he finds her slick and ready.  The little gasp his touch elicits is music to his ears, and Killian watches her expression transform to one of pure bliss as he strokes her deftly.

Emma sucks her bottom lip between her teeth, her eyes falling closed as she focuses on her pleasure, her back arching sinuously.  He works on her a while more before breaking away to sear a path of kisses down her body, ridding her of her underwear and settling his shoulders between her thighs. He flashes her a daring smile before he bows his head and tastes her, savoring the primitive moan that rips from her throat.    

She pants out a quiet curse, her brow furrowed, and one of her hands slides into his hair and urges him on with a gentle tug.  Killian feels himself growing hard again at this little show of aggression.  They both know what she likes, but he never tires of her asking for, of her demanding what she needs from him.  Emma’s cries grow louder and more strident as he continues to worship her insistently with his lips and tongue, her thighs beginning to twitch as the pressure builds and she crests higher.  “Please…”

She gives a ragged shudder, and he takes his cue to insert two fingers into her, and when she whines his name, he hums acknowledgment, pistoning deep inside her past his ring and finally shattering her control with a curl of his fingers.  Emma falls apart around him, collapsing back on the bed, her breath coming in stuttering gasps, and he watches her ecstasy with boundless fascination as he slows his movements and helps her ride it out as long, or perhaps a little longer, than she can bear.  

Her chest is heaving when he withdraws at last, and he smirks like a cad, crawling back up her side to kiss her soundly and let her taste herself on his lips.  “So, darling, how do you feel about cookie piracy now?” he says smugly, brushing his nose against hers.

Emma laughs and takes long moment to catch her breath before she abruptly rolls, shoving him on is back and climbing aboard.  She straightens and pulls what’s left of her disheveled ponytail loose, looking like a wanton angel as she shakes her hair free and finger-combs it away from her face.  Her bra is next to go, and Killian gazes up at her raptly.  Nowhere is he happier than this, at her complete mercy, and his hand and stump settle on her hips as she lowers herself down on him with excruciating slowness and another inviting shudder.  Killian groans at the sensation of being enveloped by her yet again, and she answers with a wicked smile, planting her hands on his chest and rolling her hips deliciously in order to pull a second groan from him.

“Yo ho ho.”

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