#yeah this is a bit of a return to the older catastrophe designs

[fvaleraye]

We beat Spider-Man 2(the new one), and, of course, our first reaction was to draw(and do a very light redesign) of our symbiote sona/OC, Catastrophe. We're very happy with this and how it turned out.

Women who kill, etc.

Reblogs are appreciated and encouraged, etc.

[supernaturallyobsessedchic]

Goner

[Gif credited to original poster, @zombiepenguin334​ , it just shows the dominance Dean would have in the bedroom.]

Warnings: Fluff, Pranks (including fake damage to a certain 67 Chevy Impala), some attempt at crack or comedy, language, kind of/sort of smut (Oral, orgasm denial, plus a daddy kink), rest is implied smut.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: Sam pranks Dean, but Dean thinks the reader did it. But something tells Dean, she needs to be punished for her actions.

Word Count: 1,761

Mobile Masterlist

A/N: I started out smutty but then lost my smuttiness, don’t think I have it in me to make it explicitly smutty. Hopefully it was good enough.

a/n #2: All I can say is, think of the Simpson’s “I’m in Danger” meme it’ll be italics.

a/n #3: Named it after a song, lyrics are at the end. It’s just a few lines, I swear.

For @supernatural-jackles​ Bi-Weekly Writing Challenge

Prompts: “I’m laughing because you’re angry. I swear I didn’t do it!”, such a needy little thing, aren’t ya?, “I bet the neighbors know my name.”

~

“Perfect.” Sam mutters, applying another sticker on his brothers Impala.

To be fair, Dean started it with dying Sam’s hair neon pink by adding the die to his shampoo. Poor Sam had to go to a salon to remove it by dying his hair back to a reasonable color close to his original hair color. Now Sam has resorted to buying stickers, that you can easily remove, to make it look like his car was shot at and scratched. And it looked rather convincing.

Dean was going to be pissed. And pissed might be an understatement.

“Hey Sam,” Y/N says, entering the garage where Sam was adding flare by grabbing a knife and gun from the trunk and heading towards the unsuspecting Y/N. “Something just pinged, it sounds like the darkness but I’m not one hundred on – why are you handing me these?” she asks, as Sam hands her the items and runs.

“Sam!” she calls out after him but continues into the garage to investigate what the younger Winchester was up to. And sees the devastation done to Dean’s car.

“Sam,” she could hear Dean enter the garage.

“Oh shit, oh fuck,” she mutters under her breath, as she scrambles to get rid of the knife and gun.

But when she turned and she sees the older Winchester enter, but hasn’t seen the catastrophe. Not until he’s right at his car.

“What the fuck?” she heard him say. “SAM!” He shouts. Tearing his throat up.

He turns and sees her holding a knife and gun, completely ignoring her shocked expression which, for some reason, turned into fearful laughter.

“I know what you’re thinking, but Dean, trust me, I didn’t do it.” she says, heart pounding in her chest.

“Why the, what the, you did this!?” he stammers. Veins bulge out of his head, clearly angry. She laughs even more.

“This isn’t funny, look at my car!” he yells.

“I know, I’m sorry, it wasn’t me I swear!” she laughs, sounding a lot like she’s crying.

“Quit laughing!” he shouts.

“I’m laughing because you are angry, I swear I didn’t do it!” she shouts. “Oh god, I’m in danger!” she adds, laughing harder.

Her laughter, caused tears streaming down her cheeks, her cheeks burned as the blood flow continued to rise, even her ears felt warm.

Confused he could just look at her, then back at the car. Then back at her.

Since Y/N joined the Winchester’s, it was at first just a protection duty. A horde of werewolves from a pack Y/N’s family nearly wiped out was out for revenge. So, the boys protected her, even hunted down a good number of the members of the pack. Even the wolves, and the brothers learned that though her family continued to hunt, she doesn’t.

She went to school, became a freelancing graphic designer and writer. She had a life, a normal apple pie life.

Then she heard her parents died on a hunt, a witch hunt, when an unusual spell took hold of her dad, taking him out slow and painful, her mom was poisoned by the witch.

She never believed in revenge, but when she learned of this, the thought of following her parents lingered. Then the brothers came. Rescued her, the werewolves and her came to a truce, and an agreement. No hunting humans, or her, they’ll live all happily ever after. Sam even recommended them Garth, and added reinforcement, called Garth up to be on the look out to help them out.

Ever since that odd encounter, the brothers and Y/N have been really close. Especially with Dean. She was exactly like him. More ways than some. She keeps him in check. And he’s her rock.

But something about the way she’s looking, the way she’s dressed, is effecting him.

Her short ripped jean shorts, showing her perfectly toned legs and thighs, a black fitted t-shirt sporting YouTube entertainment. Her favorite gaming channel being Achievement hunter. And wearing his many flannels. His black and white flannel. He remembered when he knew he lost it to her.

After a hunt, the boys were gone a week longer than planned, she was scared out of her wits about them. He found her sleeping in his bed with his flannel on. He didn’t fight it, argue it, nothing. Not when he saw the fresh wetness on her cheeks when he returned. He slept with her close to him, even he needed to be reminded she was there.

“You know,” Dean’s voice was low, a different kind of low. It made Y/N stop laughing dead in her tracks. “That wasn’t cool, maybe you need to be punished, little girl.” He says.

“Huh?” she breathes. Out of breath from laughing.

“Does, a certain, naughty little girl need a, hard, and heavy, pounding.” He continues.

Her pussy clenches around nothing at his words. Causing a breathy moan to escape.

“Oh fucking destroy me daddy.” She mutters.

“Car. Now.” He demanded.

She walks over to the front of the impala, trips over her feet a bit before making it to the car.

“As punishment, you don’t get to touch any of this.” He says, grabbing his dick, rubbing it even through the rough denim material. Causing her to whine.

“Lean back.” He demands.

Her ass on the hood, she sets her hands back to keep her upright as she leaned back further away from Dean. But Dean kept close to her.

He lightly brushes her hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. She squirms at his touch.

He slowly leans it, painfully slow. She can feel his hot breath on her lips. And his lips just barely touch when she found herself leaning in, needy. He places a gentle hand on her shoulder stopping her.

“Nah, uh, uh.” He says playfully. “Little girl’s being punished, remember.”

“But,” she says.

“You’ll get some, in time.” He says. His hands roam her body, slipping off the flannel. He tosses it aimlessly aside.

His hands go under her shirt. She can feel his warm, gentle touch on her stomach and sides as he guides the shirt up and over her head, and off her arms.

He lets in a deep breath, but comes out a growl when he exhales.

“Bedroom, now.” He growls.

Without hesitation she leads the way to Dean’s bedroom. Dean slams the door shut.

“Bed.” He orders. She lays her back on the bed, crawling back towards the head of the bed where her back is on the headboard.

His lips didn’t hesitate to make their way to hers in a needy kiss. His tongue teasing it’s way in, when her lips part enough his tongue claims hers, lips not leaving as their love is being poured ounce by ounce in the kiss.

His hands take hers, placing them over her head. He pulls away from the kiss.

“Keep them there.” He pants.

“Dean,” she whines. Squirming under him.

He works his belt off of his jeans, tying them around her wrists in away so he could have it tied above her head, unable to touch him.

His lips are back on hers in an instant, as he undresses her.

“So, fucking gorgeous.” He says in the kiss. She moans into his mouth.

He smirks. “Someone likes being praised.” He says. Making her smile as he pulls out of the kiss, pulling her shorts and panties away in one swoop.

His mouth is watering at the sight of her, and wastes no time. One flick of his tongue at her aching core, a strangled moan escapes her throat.

He knows when she’s close when her hips find a rhythm and she tries to get more friction with each thrust. Causing him to stop. This happens a few times.

“Dean, I fucking swear,” she growls, pleasure building in a state she’s never experienced before. “If you don’t fucking fuck me stupid, I’m not baking you anymore of my famous berry pie.” She threatens.

“Damn, such a needy little thing, aren’t ya?” Dean asks, with a smirk.

“I mean it, if you deny me an orgasm I’ll fucking murder you.” She growls.

“Sure you will.” He taunts.

“Watch me.” She adds.

Dean sheds his shirt before he continues his torture.

 Hot and sweaty under the sheets, they pant, still catching their breath after what seems like a pornographic marathon. But really it was just really intense orgasm after orgasm.

“Okay, who knew orgasm denial would grant me one killer orgasm.” She says. “I mean, I blacked out for a second there, it was that good.” She comments.

“Glad I was able to make you feel good.” Dean says, keeping his arm around her, holding her close. Feeling her place a gentle kiss on his chest.

The pair hear a groan out in the hall. Causing them to laugh.

“Something tells me he knows we did some things.” Dean says.

“Well yeah Dean, I bet the neighbors know my name now.” She says grinning. Making Dean laugh.

“Sweetheart, I bet everyone in China knows your name now.” He adds. Earning a cackle laugh in agreement.

After a longing pause, she sighs.

“Still with me sweetheart?” he asks.

“We did a thing, didn’t we? We’re now a thing?” she asked.

“I’m sure we can stop with the sneaking around, hiding and just admit that we have a thing for each other.” He says.

“Yeah, I was starting to wonder if we’d ever fess up?” she says.

“I’m sure we would have.” He said. “It’d either me doing something stupid, or us doing this. It would have been one of two ways.” He adds.

“Yep.” She says.

A yawn escaping her. “What do you wanna do tomorrow?” she slurs, as sleep is coming knocking.

“How about I take you out to dinner? And even another one of these nights just not so…”

“Pornographic.” She adds. Earning a chuckle from Dean.

“Yeah, that.” He says.

He places a loving kiss on her forehead, as he lets sleep take him in.

“Goodnight sweetheart.” He says.

“G’night Dean,” she says, yawning again. “Love you.” She adds.

He smiles, with a light chuckle so as to not jostle her. “Love you to baby.” He whispers.

As he brings her in tighter, she even helps by snuggling in more into his chest, as sleep takes them in.

 I can’t stop now, there’s no way out, I’m a goner. I’m falling fast, I’m gonna crash, I’m a goner. I am captivated by your treasure, and it’ll be this way now, forever. I’m a goner.

~

Dean tag list:

@pandazombie69​

@luci-in-trenchcoats​

@supernatural-jackles​

@becs-bunker​

@mlovesstories​

@winchesters-favorite-girl​

~

Copying and reposting someone else’s content is plagiarism and illegal. This work is property of supernaturallyobsessedchic. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher. An electronic reference link to the original posted work may be provided for purposes of promotion or assistance of publication by the readers discretion, if proper credits are given to the author in the re-post. 09/30/2020

[cenobiavigantzky]

Wraith's Last Flight

EMISSION WARNING

The warning tone that accompanied those words echoed in the mindscape of the diminutive pilot. His shell smiled in the enclosed cockpit, a mental command diverting power from the main reactor to the supercapacitors in the cargo hold.

“Etel, they’re inside maximum range.” Rence exhaled nervously, finger hovering over the button that’d release the magnetic clamps holding his craft to the underside of his partner’s, his other hand firmly gripping the control yoke.

“I know.” The voice coming over the comms was synthesized- it could only be, after all. Still, the mischievous tone told his fellow mercenary all he needed to know.

He was going to pull that stunt. Again. 

“Could you go a single job without giving me a gorramn heart attack out of worry?” His Remora-class Interceptor’s sensors were cold, but the datalink with his partner’s Cetorhinus-class Transport told him all he needed to know. The red dots were getting concerningly close.

“Where’s the fun in that? Besides, I just want to make your job easier, after all.” Four chimes let the support pilot know that their trap was ready to be sprung. He chuckled darkly, watching the activation prompt overlap his sensor suite.

“Etel!” Before the taller pilot could argue further, the cargo bay doors atop the small transport starship flung open violently, barely preceding a thunderous discharge of directed radiation covering the entire electromagnetic spectrum. Four sensor signatures changed from red to gray.

Dozens of kilometers away, raider crews cursed and swore at the middling, seemingly innocuous escort craft that’d just fried every component in their ships. Even the main reactors entered their safety shutdown mode to avoid loss of plasma containment, a system present in every spacefaring vessel to save the lives of the crew in case of catastrophic system failure.

Sadly for the meticulously designed machine, its efforts would soon be made moot.

“See? Perfectly safe. Go get them, tiger.” The flirtatious voice was Rence’s clue to bring his Interceptor’s own modules hot and maneuver out from its hiding position. He felt the carefully calibrated resistance of the main trigger under his right index while the acceleration pushed him into the seat.

A thought from within a composite coffin opened up a new communications channel. “Logistar Three-Three-Seven-Four-Niner, this is Cormorant One. Bandits are no factor. You’re cleared for thruster relight, over.” 

On the other side of the small transport from the currently ongoing one-sided massacre, three circles of blue light came to life, each dwarfing either of the escort craft. From Etel’s point of view, the very horizon seemed to be shifting thanks to millions of tonnes of spacecraft laboriously changing relative velocity to himself. Slowly but inexorably, the worn but well kept engines pushed the lumbering metal giant onwards through its journey.

---------------------------------------------------

Unruly brown hair whipped in the wind against a young man’s face in the mild bustle of the Starport. Distant announcements echoed off the featureless gray walls, people and cargo moving about in the typical languid pace of a small, far-flung colony of a budding agrarian world. 

His task of hangaring the ships finished almost a quarter of an hour ago, there was nothing for Cormorant Two to do but wait.

Halfhearted daydreams of distant retirement were interrupted by a smaller arm touching his for a second, the holographic display of his personal wrist computer showing the infusion of funds to his account. If one were to look closely, they’d notice the synthetic nature of the body that barely came up to his chest- as it was, its owner smiled up at him.

“We got a nice bonus from the salvage crews. Next job is in four days.” Etel’s silver hair bobbed in front of him while the fellow pilot skipped ahead happily. Rence sighed, removing himself from leaning back against a support pillar with a groan of effort to catch up.

It would be nice if his body didn’t feel twenty years older than it actually was.

The fake leather of his worn aviator jacket rustled with each step- perhaps something that could be avoided were him to take his hands out of its pockets. Too bad, they were warm, and would stay warm.

A lithe arm from his longtime friend wrapped around one of his the moment they were side by side, falling in step with the practice of a dancing duo. Which he supposed they were, in a generously metaphorical way. “Just dealing with that took you so long?”

Gentle, androgynous features sharpened in mock offense when looking up at him. “Of course not, doofus. Networking, negotiating, mingling with the locals- you know this operation isn’t just blowing up helpless idiots. Your job is the latter because you have the social skills of a recluse porcupine.” 

A beatific- and notoriously fake- smile now coloured Etel’s face. “Little people person me’s job is to keep this whole thing running. Which is why you have to make do with my absence for an hour or two every once in a while.” A hand came to his forehead in mock despair. “I know, it’s a peerless tragedy, my love. But I’m afraid fate has cursed us so.”

Rence didn’t bother rolling his eyes, relying on the utterly flat tone of his response to convey the necessary sarcasm. “Yes, my pain is unimaginable every time.” 

Truth be told, he couldn’t help but worry when his partner was alone. But said partner already knew that, so admitting it would be pointless teasing fodder.

---------------------------------------------------

“I’ll get a large house’s special. Thanks.” The lights of the small colony clawed futilely at the dark abyss through the windows of the small family diner. Perhaps one day, they would be a match; but that day had not arrived quite yet.

“And you, kid?” The older woman behind the front bar turned to Etel, whomst happily sipped his sweetened drink- made with something local, he didn’t quite ask. -while still leaning against his partner in crime, even while both were sitting at stools.

“Oh, don’t mind me Ma’am, I’ll just steal some of his.” The apparent young teenager shook his head, smiling happily. Said happiness coming from the fact that Rence’s jacket was wrapped around him, taking the worse off the chill that still bit through the connection suit. 

He could have gotten his civvie clothes out of the Cetorhinus, but there was little reason to when the option of simply abusing his wingman’s kindness was available.

That, and the jacket with the names of every member of Cormorant cheaply printed on its back held a very special meaning for both of them- slowly falling apart or not. Perhaps the universe’s way of displaying metaphorical irony at its own tragedies.

Before long, the brown haired pilot leaned closer still, doing his best to appear inconspicuous- and failing horribly at it, but perhaps the intention is what counted.

“Another one giving me the side-eye.” At least his whispering skills were not so bad to have the entire establishment hear it.

“Well, to be fair, to the unattentive eye it does look like you’re planning on doing something exceedingly illegal with me.” Etel smirked, offering a sip of the pink coloured liquid in his cup to the other man, who warily took a small sample before grimacing.

“Spirits, I’ll never know how you manage to find the most sickeningly sweet thing in every place we go to.” Rence gladly returned the glass to its rightful owner. 

“And yeah, the whole ‘funny misunderstanding’ angle kinda lost its luster to me after the fourth time someone called the police. We’ve had the credits for an adult-type shell for years now, you know.”

“I know.” The flight leader responded nonchalantly. “But it’s not my style. It just wouldn’t be me.” He winked at his partner. “Besides, you wouldn’t like it as much either; I know what makes you tick.” 

“I wouldn’t mind. It’d still be you.” The silver haired ‘kid’ looked at his companion, sighing wistfully. “I guess you just can’t help it when your heart is wrapped around my finger like that, can you?” 

Despite the teasing tone, his eyes held genuine fondness towards the taller man. Quite how he managed to make a shell express such complex, minute emotions; would forever be a mystery. 

“It’s fine, I’ll just do the usual.” 

Turning around, Etel made a show of stretching his body, one hand deliberately holding his shoulder length hair aside from the back of the neck. He smiled in success at hearing the small pause in cooking noises.

It meant the older woman had noticed the data ports that marked his body as, without a doubt, artificial. The surreptitious way he’d developed to disarm thoughts that Rence was some sort of abuser without bringing up the topic itself and making a scene had yet to fail them once.

Truth be told, convincing local constabularies to let the man go had indeed gotten somewhat old.

The first drops of rain touched the ground outside, refracting the meager lights of the colony on their way down. Distant points became blurs, joining the white noise of the mounting shower. Rence turned around on his stool, noticing his partner’s lost gaze into the distance. He knew why, of course.

It always rained in Pascia. An eternal downpour that hid the military spaceport where they’d met, both having been offered a better life in exchange for their efforts in the war. Them, and dozens more children, none older than twelve cycles. Innocents to be turned into pilots, to push the limits of what humans could achieve in the heavens-

-or so they’d been told. Sometimes the taller pilot wondered if the small, unmarked graves he and Etel had made in one of the hills overlooking the landing strips still stood. The members of Cormorant deserved better. They all did. Rence wrapped an arm around the shorter man, gently pulling him closer and rubbing his shoulder.

His flight leader might still blame himself for it. He’s just glad the graves stopped at six.

The sound of ceramic being placed on hardwood brought the pair’s attention back to the front bar. “Here you go. And I’m sorry for-” The older woman trailed off, embarrassed to admit her initial misconception by name. A wistful sigh preceded a warm smile framed by silver hair. “We understand, Ma’am. It’s not the first time.”

The other pilot nodded in agreement, taking the warm plate filled with a mix of vegetables and meat, local and not. “Thanks.” He didn’t even know what most of them were, but Etel had picked the place- that was reason enough to trust it.

The hours of the night passed inexorably, further diminishing the number of people inside the diner. Most had either left or moved upstairs for the night, but the pair couldn’t quite bring themselves to just yet. 

It possibly had something to do with the way Rence held him, arms wrapped around from behind, pulling his smaller body close in the comfortable booth. It was his place of peace, of being able to actually enjoy the soothing sound of rainfall with the one person he loved at his side.

The spell was only broken when the sound of ice clinking against glass interrupted the comfortable silence- one that came from his right arm starting to shake. A disappointed huff escaped his plump lips. He could feel a larger hand enveloping his, diminishing the unwanted movement.

But not stopping it.

“Getting bad?” It wasn’t the first, tenth, or hundredth time the issue had reared its annoying head, but the sweet, caring fool’s voice held just as much concern as the first happenstance of the event. 

At least by now he understood it, so Etel didn’t feel so guilty about making his partner worry pointlessly- though at this point he also knew that it could keep happening for a hundred years, and Rence would still worry to some degree. It was just one of the conditions of their relationship.

“Yeah. I should still be able to walk, but it’s better if we turn in now. I don’t want to have you snapping your spine carrying my shell upstairs.” A shaking elbow poked the taller man’s midsection, the usual cocky smile adorning the flight leader’s face once again. 

No matter how many times he told his wingman that the episodes didn’t trigger actual pain, they’d still probably never believe him.

Two taps on the table and a hand signal was all the brown haired pilot needed to inform the owner that she could close shop. Etel preempted her offer while Rence helped him walk towards the stairs to the side of the bar. 

“N-not real-lly. B-but thank-k you. I’ll be fi-ine.” The words were stuttered and clipped, but at least came out. He was thankful for her kindness, but there was really nothing she could do to help. It’d spread to most of his body by then, but at least his legs were still working. 

For now.

---------------------------------------------------

For small blessings- not that such beliefs were common anymore- the pair were able to make it to their assigned room for the night before the silver haired flight lead lost complete control of his body, cybernetic as it may be. The taller of the two held him close in bed while the shaking worsened to the point where it was easier for Etel to simply use his auxiliary speakers.

His teeth were clattering too hard to do otherwise.

“Thanks, Rence.” The voice was less natural than his normal one, but the other man didn’t mind. He just continued to hold his partner. 

“I just wish I could do more.” The wingman whispered.

“You’re already doing everything that you can. It really helps, and you know this doesn’t actually hurt; it’s just annoying.” 

Slowly, the shorter pilot managed to fight the shaking enough to wrap his arms around his lover. Even though his own body was thermally controlled to match a human’s- a perk of this specific type of shell- Rence’s warmth was still immensely soothing. 

A sudden, synthesized chuckle cut through the tense atmosphere of the room.

“Sometimes I wonder what the two of us back in flight training would react like if they could see us today.” 

Etel could feel the smile forming against his hair. “I’d be very confused. You’d probably just grin.”

---------------------------------------------------

Ten Years Earlier

The young pilot to be groaned at the display showing the results of the latest Electronic Warfare aptitude test. He hadn’t placed badly by any means- second place out of several dozen participants was more than respectable. 

The other kids around him chalked the reaction down to an overdeveloped sense of competitiveness- which he was known for almost as much as his inability to socialize in any way, shape or form.

The real reason being he’d placed just below his roommate, therefore losing the bet they’d made. Their egos had clashed from day one, helped in no small part thanks to opposing personalities. Time only made the issue worse by having the two leapfrog each other in every test, whether practical or theoretical.

They had finally been able to come to a ceasefire of sorts by using bets to disarm the tension, the latest being that the loser would need to obey a single order from the winner, no matter what. Rence had been the winner of the last one, using his wish to have Etel clean their room- childish, perhaps, but he could not come up with anything else.

The taller teenager steeled himself for the inevitable revenge, stepping into their shared dwelling. He was met by silver hair that framed an expression of a metaphorical cat that had caught the canary.

“I see someone checked the results.” The shorter trainee’s voice was overflowing with mirth- which only made the other more nervous.

“Yeah, yeah. Just get it over with. Want me to get stuff done this time?” Rence closed the door, leaning back against it and crossing his arms in an unconscious effort to show resistance. Grey light illuminated the small room through the window, having fought valiantly through the eternal clouds that covered Pascia.

Quite why someone had picked a planet like this for a military aerospace base would forever befuddle him.

Long eyelashes blinked mischievously at him, the purple eyes behind them studying him from below from several angles while their owner hummed in thought. After a long moment, Etel spoke. 

“A kiss.” His smile broke into a full-on grin.

The brown haired roommate blinked for several seconds, running the absurdity of the request over in his mind. His response was peerlessly eloquent.

“I- what- why!?”

A head tilted in front of his chin- they’d been around the same height at the start, but his growth spurt was leaving the other teenager behind easily.

“Because it’s what I want. Or are you going to back off the very first time you lost?” The sheer self-satisfaction emanating from his rival was almost physical in its intensity.

“I just-” Rence sighed, looking away while blood slowly crept up to his cheeks at the thought. “If that’s all you want, you could literally ask any of the girls. Or half of the guys. They’d all jump at the chance.”

An index pressed against Etel’s cheek theatrically, looking up in fake thought. “I guess that’s true.” It was, and they both knew it. 

While most people steered clear of the antisocial prodigy, the other trainee who led the rankings in just as many exercises was a magnet for people, both thanks to his ability to easily talk with anyone about seemingly anything, and the way his appearance seamlessly mixed male and female characteristics- a recipe to being the object of affection or desire to many in the training program.

That fact only made his specific request all the more odd.

“But they’re them. You’re you.” Somehow, that explanation made complete sense for the shorter kid. How, Rence had no idea. 

“And why me?” His confusion had reached a peak. 

“I have no idea.”  Etel smiled innocently, closing his eyes in cheekiness. His rival groaned, pressing the heel of his palm against his forehead in frustration. It was always like that with him, which was no small part of the initial friction between the two.

At least he was getting used to it. Or so he thought.

Rence sighed. “Fine. Let’s do it, I guess.” From a completely neutral point of view, he had to admit that the silver haired teenager was attractive- but with his focus entirely on personal performance, what anyone looked like was simply not something the taller kid cared about; hormones be damned.

The way his heart rate skyrocketed when Etel physically placed Rence’s arms around his thinner waist, at the sensation of smaller hands wrapping themselves around his shoulders and an unfairly androgynous face tilting up to reach his own- 

-said neglected hormones were merciless in their revenge for being ignored for so long. Still, he tried his best to swallow away the desire to hold the smaller form in his arms tighter.

Brown eyes widened in puzzlement at the touch of a small tongue against dry lips, fruitlessly trying to find explanation in half-lidded purple orbs. Was that how kisses worked? It’s not like he had one before, but the few times he’d seen them in vids were decidedly not like this. 

That’s not to say it didn’t feel nice, rather the opposite. 

Softer lips started making contact with his, causing a sigh to escape his nose; the larger body slowly relaxing and adapting to the new situation- like it always did. 

While Etel achieved his performance through analysis and solving of problems, Rence’s forte was instinctively doing what ‘felt right’ instead of any explicable line of thought. Much to the frustration of many an instructor.

When a smaller tongue started caressing a larger one, neither cadets were paying attention to anything else but the sensations of their bodies together, their warmth flowing from one another, the combined scent. What both thought would not last 20 seconds had gone on for far longer- just how long, none could say.

Judging at how swollen both sets of lips were when they finally came apart, gasping for air; far too long and at the same time not nearly long enough. 

Etel smiled with a mix of mischievousness and satisfaction, carefully wiping errant saliva from the kiss away with his thumb. “Not bad. I’m looking forward to next time.” His voice left no questions that there would be a next time. 

By the time Rence’s mind had cleared, the shorter male was already laying in the lower bunk that he’d long since declared his possession, nonchalantly browsing the base’s intranet in his portable comm. The taller teenager cleared his throat and tried to busy himself with something, anything in his rucksack.

“What do you mean by that?” His voice cracking was bad enough, he didn’t need his rival seeing that his face was still as red as a tomato.

“Hmm, I wonder.” A lighthearted, musical tone was all the answer he got.

There was a next time, of course. If there was something Etel was better at than piloting, it was always getting what he wanted. Before long, the pretense of bets was dropped entirely, rivalry replaced by tentative connections which further evolved into genuine affection- and further exploration of said connections, of course. They were teenagers after all.

Teenagers about to be sent into war.

---------------------------------------------------

Six Years Earlier

“They’ve got a lock! I can’t-” Garbled noises interrupted Cormorant Six’s final transmission before her craft broke apart under sustained autocannon fire. Etel’s teeth nearly cracked from the tension they were under.

What was once a squadron of eighth fighters was now down to two units, and only because the jamming support and its wingman were to stay outside direct engagement range to safely act as force multipliers.

All around them, peerless works of engineering, from nimble interceptors to kilometers-long behemoths broke up under sustained assault by equally beautiful machines, masterworks of humanity set alight in the dark seas of space. Its masters and guides offered in sacrifice with their creations to the species’s never ending struggle with themselves.

A sight equally beautiful as it was tragic.

The worst part is that he’d warned command about this. Their jamming was getting less and less effective with every new battle, while the enemy’s was only improving. It was only a matter of time before their biggest advantage was nullified, no matter how much he fiddled with the frequencies and settings of his craft’s electronic warfare suite. 

The silver haired squad leader had simply been able to delay the inevitable.

“Wraith, what should we do?” Rence had dutifully covered his six during the entire flight, not that it had been necessary for once. With its main capability neutered, a single craft maneuvering just outside the furball wasn’t an especially important target.

Unfortunately, said furball, now firmly dominated by the enemy, was their only path out of the slaughter. The sheer amount of weapons fire and debris all around the remains of Cormorant Squadron made any other avenue of escape implausible at best, impossible at worst.

“Etel?” For the first time, he heard something in his- what were they, even? Partners? Boyfriends? Neither of them had bothered to find a word to describe their relationship. They simply never thought it necessary. 

But for the first time, Rence’s voice was tinged by fear.

A support fighter and a space superiority craft against eight dedicated interceptors. No matter how good they were, those odds would end with the complete destruction of Cormorant Squadron. He would die. 

But most importantly, Rence would die. Just like Peton, Clouise, Thilly, Mildra, Tera and Ryne had before him.

In the heart of a maelstrom of steel, polymers, fire and ceramic that stretched for hundreds of kilometers in every direction, Etel pulled out the onboard systems access keyboard of his craft. 

“Fang, stay outside of their weapons range. I’ll clear a path.” His wingman’s stomach turned to ice when he noticed the jamming module passing by above his cockpit- ejected from his flight leader’s craft.

Said leader hovered a finger over the button to activate a batch file he’d prepared one day. ‘Leaf on the wind.’ It was completely suicidal, but he never figured he’d need to actually use it. Perhaps the mere existence of it tempted fate. More likely, it was simply a consequence of the lives they’d chosen.

Either way, it tasted bitter in his mouth.

“Etel, what are you doing? You can’t take them on alone! Let me help!” Cormorant Two tried increasing engine power to get back in a position to protect the other craft, but his throttle refused to move. The message in one of his displays felt like a strike to the gut.

LEAD CRAFT OVERRIDE_

“I’m sorry, Rence. I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.” Etel felt his body be pressed painfully against the back of the seat while his targeting solution switched to manual. His systems were awash with warning messages, many of which were supposed to be a death sentence to both spacecraft and pilot. 

He’d just need to find out for sure.

FLIGHT ASSISTANCE OFF

G LIMITER OFF

ENGINE LIMITER OFF

OVERVOLTAGE PROTECTION OFF

REACTOR LIMITER OFF

THERMAL PROTECTION DISABLED_

‘Fang’ watched in mute horror while the craft he was supposed to protect sped towards the waiting enemies- glowing specks of thrust chamber lining trailing in its wake, mingling with the stars beyond even while the fighter they came from slowly but surely began to come apart from the inside out.

Machine and man flew together as one for the first, and last, time- a bittersweet song of violence and art, unbound by future or fear. Writing their hope of survival for their beloved with glowing tracers and leaking plasma against the cold of the abyss, creating maneuvers with no names for the sake of simply staying alive just one more moment, dodging one more round to open a path.

But for each opponent fallen, the price was paid with draining shields, glancing blows, failing systems and venting atmosphere. By the time Rence saw a second burst of metal and sparks cut their way across Cormorant One’s cockpit, the warnings about pilot heart rate and erratic inputs no longer reached his ears. 

He didn’t know when the datalink with Wraith finally failed, only that the override was lifted and the one remaining enemy who hadn’t disengaged was lining up for a firing solution on the one person he had left in the world- on the wounded spaceship with more parts missing than not, desperately trying to maneuver with one engine and failing systems. 

Trying to make sure the taller pilot would survive, at the cost of itself. The most selfless act of selfishness- for the living are those who need to carry the sorrow. Leading the nose of his fighter ahead of the Interceptor about to end Wraith’s tale, a man at the heart of a storm shouted ‘No’.

Weapon mounts shuddered while the machine compensated for the violent forces trying to steer its pilot’s aim off course. Autocannons, machineguns and missiles sang in fury- a payload intended for an entire mission, depleted in a couple of seconds. 

“Rence?” The voice on the radio was pained, much like the signal itself. So many warning chimes coloured the background of the audio transmission, the brown-haired man couldn’t even tell them apart. “I guess long and midrange comms went out.” 

Etel tried his best to focus on the screens lining the walls around his body, finding it more difficult than it should be. Whether because of the fact most were broken, his vision was slowly failing, or the mixture of black and red fluid covering them, he couldn’t quite tell. 

Probably a mix of all three.

“Oh. A lot of things are out.” A shaking finger flipped through options until its owner could finally hear something. 

“Cormorant One, do you copy? Wraith? Etel, answer me!” He could almost see the other man’s frantic face when Fang entered formation off his left wing- metaphorically, of course. There were several layers of ceramic and steel separating the two enclosed cockpits. 

That, and he didn’t have much of a left wing anymore.

“Hey big dummy. Are you alright?” An unbidden smile came to his features, silver hair matted in red clinging to the seat while his head turned weakly to the side.

“Am I-” Utter disbelief stopped the response temporarily. “Yes! What’s your status!?” The sheer desperation in his lover’s voice hurt to hear.

“I’m- I’ll be alright.” Rence was safe. Everything would be fine. “I’ll be slaving-” his voice shivered in addition to being barely above a whisper. “-Wraith to you. I’m cold. I think enviro is down.”

The wingman’s heart sank further at the reestablished datalink.

WRAITH -> FANG

AUTOMATIC FORMATION ENABLED

EMERGENCY MEDICAL ATTENTION REQUIRED

EMERGENCY MAINTENANCE REQUIRED

PILOT INPUT REQUIRED - NO DATA

The incessant chimes of the combined alarms that would haunt his soul for the rest of its days echoed through the silence, joined only by the distant sound of the largest, and last, battle of the war fading behind the two.

“Rence, get us-” Etel’s voice faded for a second. “-get us home, alright?”

“I will.” Cormorant Two wiped his eyes, leading the stricken craft as fast as he would dare without risking it to fall completely apart. The only response he got to any further comms attempt were the deafening alarms of Wraith’s systems.

The flight back to base was the longest he’d ever had. Too long, a voice inside him said. He shut it down by focusing further on the gentlest slope down into Pascia’s atmosphere that his hurry would allow, keeping a close eye on the other craft which struggled to maintain control, the onboard computer doing its best to fly with the mangled remains of control surfaces.

“Pascia Tower, Cormorant Two. I am declaring an emergency. I have Cormorant One’s craft with me, we need a clean runway and emergency vehicles for landing.” He never thought about one day remembering those procedures- they were Etel’s job after all. Yet they came to his mind as fresh as the day he’d learnt them.

“Fang, Pascia Tower. We were wondering what the other radar contact with you was- but all our strips are full. Go around, I repeat, go around and hold pattern.” Rence’s teeth clenched in anger.

“Pascia Tower, Cormorant One needs immediate medical attention. We will be landing on first approach. Clear a runway or I’ll pick one to crash into.”

“Damnit.” The ATC operator stood up from his chair, trying to see which one was the least full with damaged spacecraft in one form or another. The entire airbase resembled an emergency field hospital more than anything else.

Rence grimaced at the grisly sight after finally dipping under the everpresent cloud cover- damaged or destroyed crafts as far as the eye could see, including several in flames which seemed unperturbed by either the rain or the efforts from the fire crews. 

“Fang, Pascia Tower. 21 is the best we can do right now. Good luck.” 

Lining up for the landing attempt, he could see several other fighters being hurriedly moved into the barren dirt, either by engine power or just human desperation. 

It was still a shorter length than he’d like, but it’d have to do. 

A harsh flare-up of the nose and full reverse thrust got his spacecraft onto the ground just after the warning lights, the landing gear groaning in protest but holding. He looked back at Wraith doing its best to emulate the maneuver, tyres hitting the wet tarmac with more force than they were ever designed for.

And the entire frame of the machine finally failing.

A shower of sparks defied the film of water that perpetually covered every surface, following the main cockpit and reactor shell while they slid their way down the runway, debris bouncing off of Fang’s shields. Rence disengaged the brakes, letting his ship roll along with the remains of what was once a proud electronic warfare fighter- 

-Hoping against hope he could still find Etel inside.

His boots hit the dark surface before either machine had fully stopped moving, climbing atop the broken form of Wraith and yanking the external emergency canopy ejection handle. Before the smoke from the explosive bolts cleared, the taller pilot had leaned inside.

A part of him wished he hadn’t.

“Etel? Etel!?” His hoarse pleas fell on deaf ears against the bloodied, unmoving body inside the cockpit. A pair of fingers against the side of a slender neck confirmed his fears. Before he could start any attempt at CPR, a warbled electronic tone caught his attention.

Only two screens inside the cockpit still worked, presumably off the emergency power supply on the main shell. One had a simple but darkly appropriate message.

E.O.L._

But the other seemed to be desperately trying to catch his attention despite intermittent failures.

WRAITH -> Lt. Rence

CORE BREACH IMMINENT

EJECTION SYSTEM FAILURE

MANUAL PILOT EJECTION REQUIRED_

It took him a second to process what the dying machine was requesting, followed by frantically undoing the clasps of the harness holding Etel’s body to the seat and doing his best to carry the smaller body, slick with oil and blood.

He could see an ambulance heading towards him while he sprinted full speed away from the remains of the craft with his lover’s unconscious- just unconscious. Nothing else.- body in his arms. 

“CORE BREA-” A wave of heat and force stopped his shout, flinging both forms forward and into the air.

Before his vision went dark, he could feel the hard ground meeting his back with large prejudice, and a softer impact on his chest- his arms still wrapped around the other pilot.

Etel was safe. He had to be.

Good.

Goo- 

---------------------------------------------------

A gasping breath and frantic eyes mark Rence’s return to consciousness. Before he could whip his head around, a soothing whisper coming from his chest took his attention. 

“I’m here. I’m here, everything’s fine. I’m fine.” The smaller body laying beside him, still firmly wrapped around his arms, caressed his hair gently with a delicate hand. 

“You fell asleep after relaxing when I got better.”

A long sigh escaped the taller pilot’s lips, leaning his head down to nuzzle against soft silver hair, a rougher hand carefully caressing the covers of Etel’s connection ports in his nape. 

“Sorry. I should be the one helping you, not the other way around.”

The flight lead pinched the top of one of Rence’s ears in a swift movement. 

“None of that, mister. We’ve been in this together in one way or another from the very start. I worry about you just as much as you worry about me.”

A small but meaningful smile coloured the brown haired man’s expression. “Fair enough.”

Etel nuzzled back happily against his lover’s chest, taking in his warmth, touch and scent. While they made his heart melt like always, a slender finger poked the other man regardless.

“And as much as I love your smell, you do need a shower.”

A moment passed in which the shorter pilot could hear loud sniffing from above his head. “Yeah, that last job did go on for a while. Coming with me?”

Purple eyes met brown ones, the perfect definition of the word ‘smug’ being encased in the synthetic orbs alone. 

“Technically I don’t need to. But I suppose I can grace you with my presence, yes.” Rence rolled his eyes.

“Well excuse me, princess. Not every peasant has a self-cleaning body.” If only because they were the second most expensive variant of shells, only behind military-focused versions. Let alone a teenager type with that feature.

For perhaps understandable reasons, younger-looking synthetic bodies with the suit of options that led themselves to the more carnal type of activity were still illegal in many places, though public opinion was largely divided in more recent years. It still made the price for one of them eye-wateringly high thanks to low supply and high demand.

“We could get you one, you know. You don’t have to keep suffering for no reason.” Etel’s expression softened while Rence groaned in discomfort at the effort of getting up from the bed after enough limbs were untangled, further proving the point.

“Eh, not yet. We’re the same age, you know. I’m not some washed up old man.” He yawned, stretching his back while walking into the bathroom. The ‘boy’ followed. 

“You know that’s not what I meant, your body’s just worn.” Synthetic hands indistinguishable from natural ones caressed a somewhat lean but toned body pockmarked with scars from shrapnel.

“Oh thanks. That makes me feel so much better.” Rence helped undo the clasps of Etel’s connection suit, most of his own clothing having been removed the moment the pair had entered the cheap but homely suite. 

Body warmth and touch was one of the few things that helped deal with the silver haired pilot’s spikes of PTSD, rooted in the endless, penetrating feeling of cold he’d experienced before dying. The fact that his brain was able to be recovered at all after almost an hour without blood flow with only minor damage was almost miraculous, even with interstellar-age medical science. 

The radiation burns, overpressure damage and puncture wounds that Rence had suffered in the core breach event, at least, were mostly healable without lingering effects.

Mostly.

“You’re just scared of the operation.” Etel’s unfairly beautiful face pouted, poking the taller man in the chest.

“It’s not exactly getting your ears pierced, you know. It’d take me months to get back up to speed. It took you more than a year to get that shell adjusted just right. And still-” His voice trailed off, a mix of consternation and concern colouring masculine, but refined, features.

The expression of the shorter member of the duo softened, a look of regret and pity that could bring the most unemotional of creatures to a halt, caressing the side of Rence’s face softly.

“You know the problem isn’t with the shell, love.” 

His fellow pilot sighed, wrapping his arms around the smaller form. “I know. But wanting to help you more and not being able to makes me feel so-”

“Like I always say, you already help. If it makes you feel better, I can look for another doctor next time we’re in a major hub. Is that better?” 

That would make it the twelfth doctor ever since they left the military.

“I- Yeah. Sorry I keep bothering you about it.” Etel stopped his bout of guilt with a kiss, caressing Rence’s tongue with his gently while their lips were locked together. 

A flick of the foot sent their clothes back in the general direction of the bed, before turning on the shower and enjoying his lover’s jolt of surprise at the initial stream of cold water before the heating element did its job.

“No need to say sorry, you silly. You bother me because you worry, you worry because you care.”

The silver haired ‘teenager’ poked his partner in the chest, looking up at his face with a smile.

“And you care because you love me.”

Said partner couldn’t help but smile back, warm water cascading down his messy hair. “You make it pretty easy.”

“Oh, I know. I’m just that irresistible.” 

Rougher hands wrapped themselves around Etel’s body when he turned around to close the shower box, pulling him back gently against Rence while the taller man nuzzled into the side of his neck, his slim but soft mechanical body following the instincts of the biological brain controlling it to lean back further into the touch, long eyelids fluttering closed over purple eyes.

“I love you. Please never leave me.” The whisper held such few words, but carried so much meaning from the very depths of the wingman’s being - the shorter of the pair, still melting under the sensation of the embrace and caresses, knew that. 

The haunted look he could see in the deceptively warm brown orbs of the taller man every single time he felt him awake in a cold sweat proved just how deep their connection went.

“I love you too, Rence. I promise I’m never going away again.” Etel tilted his head up and to the side, their mouths connecting once more. The flight lead smiled faintly into the kiss while he felt his lover’s body slowly relax against his back, the arms around him showing no sign of letting go. 

To the disappointment of both, the notification that they’d used 20% of their allocated daily water chimed just after hands had begun roaming around sensitive places and desire had joined love in the mixture of the kiss.

Through great willpower, the silver haired pilot managed to disentangle himself from his lover’s advances, even though it hurt his soul to do so. “Lat- later, later.” He turned around, grabbing the sponge from the recession in the wall and smacking Rence in the face with it playfully. “Shower first, sex later you horndog. Even if I have to scrub you myself.”

A muffled sigh of disappointment could be heard behind the cleaning implement, followed by an equally muffled whine.

Despite their best efforts- or Etel’s, at least -further kisses, embraces and caresses did inevitably take place. Perhaps to be expected, as it had been the case with every shower they’d taken together as lovers to one degree or another. By the time the water allotment ran out, Rence was softly running his fingers along silver hair. 

Hair that was slowly moving back and forth given that its owner was currently kneeled in front of him, letting out rather indecent moans- muffled as they were thanks to the taller of the pair’s member filling the mouth they were coming from.

In all fairness, they had managed to finish a thorough shower first. Just.

Not that Etel was thinking about that at the moment. Rather, higher thought processes weren’t really present in general- not when he had Rence’s heat and taste filling his mouth, combined with the scent of the man he loved, clean and pure. 

Having his hair petted while doing so only served to send him further into the realm of base instincts, letting his feelings be translated through the pleasure he was giving.

Not that he didn’t enjoy it himself. 

Much the opposite, the firm heat sliding against his lips, tongue and throat; the knowledge that it was Rence’s length that was taking him in that way, the reassuring sensation of his lover’s hands on him, they all combined into gentle but constant waves of pleasure running down his body. 

The clipped moans he could hear from above whenever his lips wrapped themselves around the base of the shaft certainly didn’t hurt either. It was one of the several things his shell allowed him to do that his original body couldn’t quite handle despite repeated attempts.

The combination of no gag reflex and secondary air intakes made for a very useful party trick.

“Etel, if you keep going-” Rence’s attempt at gently nudging the shorter pilot’s shoulder back was interrupted by a synthetic hand grabbing his firmly and holding it, and a further increase in the intensity of the act.

“I know. Gimme.” Through auxiliary speakers or not, the pleading whisper from the one person he loved the most only served to hasten his peak, the heat that’d built up behind his length flowing forward in bursts and being happily swallowed, the shaking of his body and gasps of breath happening in time with them.

A flurry of kisses followed, the taller pilot once again embracing Etel tightly- and caressing his body, one hand specifically sliding down his back before massaging his plump rear and finding the self-lubrication almost dripping from the entrance. 

The silver haired ‘teenager’ held back a moan when a finger started teasing his entrance, caressing the sides slick with excitement.

A breathy whisper was able to escape their kiss, just. “I’m already pretty close, dummy. I want to keep going in bed after we towel off.”

Rence deliberately slid his finger inside, gently rubbing against the sensitive bundle of synthetic nerves he’d long since memorized the placement of for a moment, stopping his lover’s swear of pleasure with another kiss before pulling away and grabbing a towel, doing his best to feign innocence. “Fair enough.” 

His smile easily betrayed the lie.

Etel’s stare could burn a hole through reinforced carbon weave- metaphorically of course. That option was not allowed in civilian shells. 

However, the muscular weave necessary to give a one hundred and fifty centimeters, two hundred kilogram body normal mobility was more than enough to carefully tackle the taller man into the bed the minute they’d both towelled off most of the water- and maneuver them so said man was on top.

Rence was familiar with this song and dance by now, not needing to reorient himself before kissing his lover again, tongues caressing eachother in a feeble attempt to convey the intensity of the feelings between the two.

The pair could kiss for the rest of time, and it’d still be a pale demonstration of the undying flame their souls burned together with. A hypergolic bond refreshed every single day for near on a decade. 

One might ask why not be officially married at that point, and the answer was merely that neither felt the need to- after all, marriages are until death. 

They were long past such trivial difficulties.

Powerful legs ending into slender feet locked themselves around Rence’s hips, further enticing the man while a pale hand caressed the engorging length pressed between the two, gently stroking it into full attention. 

The wingman had once asked why Etel kept his own member, mostly because of the strong reluctance the other part of the pair felt about it being touched at all, let alone used in any way, shape or form. After all, to change it for a female type would be trivial with his new body.

“I’m not sure, honestly. It’s not like it even fully works anyway. Even if it did, it’s definitely not big enough to be of much use. I guess it’s just a part of me I don’t mind being there, and our preferred option isn’t even a hassle to prepare anymore.” A familiar grin coloured his features at the mention of the benefits a synthetic shell provided.

It was one of the many quirks of the smaller person that he’d simply accepted. They were more than worth it, after all.

That, and Rence was pretty sure the little minx just really, really liked their ‘preferred option’.

A notion that was further proved with the way the flight leader downright purred in anticipation the moment his entrance was touched by his lover’s length, the blunt tip spreading it open thanks to the plentiful lubrication counteracting just how tight the silver haired ‘teen’ always was.

Striking purple eyes gazed lovingly at Rence through halfway-closed eyelids, hints of perspiration- unnecessary as it was -covering flawless skin painstakingly customized to recreate the original body his beloved inhabited. 

The taller pilot, for the umpteeth time, thanked every possible god that might exist for just how lucky he got to not have his little demon ripped away from him.

‘Angel’ wasn’t quite the right word after all.

Willpower fought the instinct to close his eyes at the sensation of Etel’s tight folds slowly swallowing his shaft when he carefully pressed their bodies closed together, all for the chance to watch his lover’s reaction. 

The way those beautiful violet orbs rolled back, the way he gripped whatever was available- most of the time that being Rence’s hair, a feeling he simply adored -to try and handle the sensation while his back arched, even the way a breathless moan was often coupled with an expletive.

It was all quintessentially Etel, and there was no force in the universe that could stop Rence from showering his shorter partner with growling kisses in a desperate attempt to convey what he was already saying between them. 

“I love you. So fucking much.”

Said beloved smiled while the words sent shivers down his spine, mixing with the electric waves spreading from his insides thanks to the deliciously hot and thick member filling them. The moment when he could feel his lover all the way inside him just before either began moving was perhaps his favourite, for one main reason.

He could feel Rence’s warmth and heartbeat. Around him, inside him, reminding him that he wasn’t alone. Much the opposite. 

He had the love of his life happily giving him all the intimacy he possibly could, every time he possibly could. The life they’d led wasn’t easy, but this-

This made it worth it a thousand times over.

 “I love you to-” his response was interrupted by a mix of whimper and moan rising in pitch thanks to the combined waves of pleasure spreading around his body- coming from his insides due to his lover having started to move, deliberately angling their bodies to make the tip of his length rub against the most sensitive spot Etel had.

The other point of origin was his chest, thanks to Rence happily caressing one of his nipples with his tongue while sucking it, and using a free hand to play with the other.

“Come on, all my weak points at once-” His whining was met with a stronger thrust, paired with a stronger suction and harsher flicking of the tongue. More than enough to force another moan out of him. “Godsdamned cheater.”

He simply got another passionate kiss for it, with the taller pilot sneaking a hand behind one of his shoulders to hold him close while continuing to thrust inside. 

The smaller body instinctively wrapped around his lover, hanging onto the man with legs and arms both, needing to be with him as much as humanly possible. 

Etel melted under Rence further while the waves of pleasure got more and more intense, manmade muscle fibers twitching in the overload of the sensors. 

Sensors purposely set by their owner to near maximum gain to reflect the way his original body wasn’t yet experienced enough to have the whole ordeal be anything less than overwhelming the few times it had the chance to do it.

“Rence-” Etel’s gasping voice, coloured by the sensation of his body melting in pleasure, repeated the name without stop- a mantra to deal with just how strong the sensation was, of his body peaking while feeling his lover all around and inside him. 

As close and intimate as they could physically get, two souls seeking eachother, to become whole. 

Even under the onslaught of physical signals, the shorter pilot’s heart fluttered when Rence slowed down somewhat while holding him back just as tight. Sacrificing his own pleasure just so Etel could enjoy his own climax more, fall even deeper in love.

If that was even possible.

The flight lead had no idea how much time had passed filled with breathless, shaky moans accompanied by a shivering body until his lover kissed him deeply again, deeper tones joining his song before liquid heat coated his oversensitive insides. 

Every bit of instinct left in his mind ordered shaking limbs to further lock around Rence, to not let him go. To never, ever let him go.

To simply bask in the warm, messy wetness and sweaty ball of hormones that the remains of Cormorant Squadron were at the moment.

Not that he had much of an option, considering the taller man was clinging to him just as tightly. Etel wouldn’t have it any other way.

The continuous kiss was only broken by his wingman nuzzling into the crook of the neck where silver hair came to a stop, three words being repeated once more yet not losing any of their power.

“I love you.”

Shivers of pleasure instead of anguish still emanated from his core at random intervals, but not enough to stop Etel from caressing Rence’s hair gently, coddling the man with all the affection of a newlywed bride. 

Maybe the flight lead would decide to be one someday, who knew. But for now, the relaxed smile while the two settled into a position more conducive to long-term comfort was physically unable to waver during his answer.

“I love you too, Rence.”

---------------------------------------------------

Strange wildlife cried in greeting of the rising sun, shrill tones emanated from odd, small lizard-like creatures breaking the peaceful silence of early day. One weary eyelid cracked open, protesting the rays slowly but inexorably marching their path across the two forms tangled in bed.

“Morning, hon. Slept well?” Etel’s light, melodic voice came from the body the taller pilot currently held close to him, both laying on their sides. Rence couldn’t remember the last time he hadn’t slept with his lover’s back glued to his form, the one fit they’d settled in early on simply because it just felt right.

A groan slowly morphed into actual words, vocal chords as worn as the rest of his body taking a while to kick into gear. “Mm- yeah. Did you?”

He knew that brains placed into full-body shells didn’t have- nor could even achieve -the same type of rest normal humans had, but they still underwent a sort of ‘preventative maintenance’ to fulfill many of the same tasks.

Deleting useless information, organizing useful data, resetting chemical balance. 

But androids did not, in fact, dream of electric sheep.

Still, Etel used the time to practice a sort of self-reflection and meditation. That and watching shows on the extranet- after all, there is only so much mental self-care one can do every day for several hours while being held tight against a snoring man.

Gods be praised for AI-powered noise removal of audio inputs.

“Yeah, my night was nice.” Carefully crafted synthetic fingers caressed the rougher hand wrapped around a slim midsection and chest. “Also, you got a message a few hours ago.”

Brown eyes slowly focused on the desk nearby, the blinking light of his wrist device giving merit to the claim. A sigh followed.

“Who the hells messaged me in the middle of the gorramn dawn?” Stiff muscles stretched themselves under electrical orders from a brain protesting having to reach wakefulness, before curling themselves around the shorter pilot again.

Bright orange dots of plasma hovered in the air in front of Etel, tridimensional pixels being created by the laser emitters in his wrist. Rence had long since given up on trying to stop his partner from invading his personal messaging system. 

Or any other system for that matter.

Etel chuckled airily at the small huff coming from behind his head, a mix of fondness and incredulity at the specific sender having kept in contact for so long.

FANG -> PILOT

REQUEST STATUS REPORT

REQUEST Flt.Lead Etel STATUS REPORT

TEMP. PILOT UNSATISFACTORY_

Rence couldn’t help but smile at the sheer stubbornness of the Combat Intelligence. This was its eight ‘temporary pilot’ after the couple had left the military already.

The previous seven had also been deemed unsatisfactory.

“We also need to refuel-” The silver haired lover brought up a list in the holographic projection. It looked far too long for Cormorant Two’s tastes, so he simply groaned and hid his face in said locks of silky synthetic strands.

“- rearm-” Etel continued. Rence groaned more.

“- run maintenance checks-” The taller member of the pair whined in protest. “Can’t we do that tomorrow? We have four days.”

Cormorant One turned his head around as much as he could while still tangled in his partner’s limbs. It wasn’t much, but it served to convey his stance on the matter. 

“And if we find any issues, we’ll need these extra days to deal with them. Never do tomorrow what you can do today.”

“I hate you.” The response lacked any of the venom or hurt such words would be expected to. Both knew why.

“No you don’t.” Etel grinned, teasing.

“No, but I can pretend I do.” Rence pouted in response.

“No you can’t.” Etel grinned wider.

“Gods, you’re insufferable.” Yet the wingman smiled.

“That I am. And you love me anyway.” 

An annoyed yet amused face confronted an impossibly smug one. Neither mattered once their lips touched, parted by tongues seeking contact for the millionth time, to be followed by a million more.

[takadasaiko]

Second Chances: Chapter Seven

FFN II AO3

Summary: Steve has every intention of returning the Infinity Stones to their correct place in the timeline and heading back to his own. His problems start when he makes an impulse decision to jump over to 1946 and Peggy decides to go back home with him. It only gets more complicated from there when Howard tags along with them to 2023. Tony lives fix-it fic. Pepperony.

Chapter Summary: Tony struggles to process what's going on.

Just a quick warning: this chapter may should be rated a bit higher for Tony's meltdown language. Very brief and I think it still ranges in the scope of PG-13, but better safe to warn than not.

Chapter Seven

Tony couldn't move. He couldn't breathe. He stretched out his left hand, checking to make sure he wasn't having a heart attack where he stood. Nope. Feeling there. Maybe a stroke. That was an increasing possibility. Anything made more sense than the man standing in Cap's hallway that was a distinctly younger version of the man he'd know growing up. A man with jet black hair and mustache, curious dark eyes, and a grin that just wouldn't stop.

He was dreaming. That was it. This whole thing had to be a dream.

"Is this Tony?" Howard demanded, half bounding forward and suddenly he was shaking Tony's hand. "I saw your work with the stabiliser and I gotta say - and I'm not easily impressed - but that that was elegant, my friend. You are talented. The way you solved the time-jump issue was…."

He was still shaking Tony's hand and the other man couldn't find the words. Any moment he was going to wake up, right? Right. Any moment now.

"Tony?" Cap called quietly and dark brown eyes flickered over to meet blue.

He didn't get a chance to respond, though. Another figure rounded the corner. "Everything okay out here?"

From terrible to catastrophic in point five seconds. That was his morning in a nutshell. Tony felt his mood shift from shock to boiling anger at the sight of James Barnes coming to stand next to his too-young and far too oblivious someday-to-be father. Tony turned the rage on Steve. "What the ever-loving fuck were you thinking?!" he all but screamed. Any other time he would have been rather proud at the shade or two Steve paled. With the way he stiffened and may have even take the smallest steps back from the shorter man. Not now though. At just that moment he was too pissed.

"Tony, I never meant for —"

"Well ya did, and then this?!" He motioned back at Barnes. "Are you trying to break the timeline?"

"Hey, you don't have the full story," Barnes growled.

Tony spun on him. "Pipe down, Jamie Lannister. You don't get a say in this. And get away from him." He motioned to a very confused Howard.

Steve reached out and blocked Barnes' advance even as Tony squared his shoulders, still several inches shorter than either Super Soldier.

"Mr Stark," Peggy Carter snapped, pulling every eye over to her, but her eyes were focused on Tony. "It is Stark, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Tony managed.

"Wait…. you're-"

"Peggy, how did you-?"

She cut both Howard and Steve off mid-question. "Is it really that hard to deduce? Look at him. He looks just like Howard. A bit a bit older, but there's no question. Otherwise why would you have worked so hard to hide it?"

There was a silence that settled over the room and she huffed a long-suffering sigh. "We didn't intend for Howard to come with us. It was a fluke in the design he hastily pulled together."

Tony followed her quick glance over to Howard and how he clenched his jaw just a little, like he was swallowing what could have been a swipe at his attempt to replicate the tech. Of course Steve had gone to his father for that. Of course he had. "He's going back," Tony said tightly.

"Yes." Steve's answer was instant.

"You used up the Pym Particles getting them here, didn't you? We'll need to —"

"Get ahold of Hank Pym," Steve cut in. "I've been trying for days. He's a hard man to reach."

Tony snorted. "Yeah, he's an asshole, but you tell him Howard Stark is here and he'll throw them at you to make him go away."

"So we've heard," Barnes said and Tony had to resist the urge to tell him to zip it again. "Sam's looking for Lang now."

So Steve had been back long enough to get home, talk all of this over with Wilson and Barnes, try to reach out to Pym enough to scratch the direct approach, and sent Wilson for Lang. A week? Maybe a week and a half. Long enough to have at least dropped him a line.

"Tony," the blond called softly and the younger man's attention snapped to him again. He looked like he felt guilty. Good. "Listen, I um…." He looked over to the crowd that lingered. "Give is a second?"

Howard looked like he might argue, but Peggy ushered him out of the hall, Barnes following behind. Tony watched the crowd retreat into whatever part of the apartment they were heading for and pulled in a steadying breath. "Okay," he said, his voice tight and controlled. "Start from the beginning."

                                            _______________

He didn't hold back. From the moment he left the hospital to the different stopping points with the stones, and through to what had become an impulse stop off in 1946. Tony didn't say a word, which rarely boded well, but Steve kept going right up to the point that Howard had hitched a ride with them. "Peggy knew he was up to something. I should have —"

"You said time travel and you sealed the deal, Cap," Tony huffed, sliding down the wall he had been leaning against to take a seat. Steve took a hesitant step towards him and was waved off. "I'm good. Just processing."

At least they'd moved into that phase. In his experience, bringing Tony out of a rage could be nearly impossible. That was all on him to do. He'd been willing to listen, though, and that seemed like a good sign.

Steve shifted where he stood, letting his gaze drift over the other man. Last he'd seen him he had been in the hospital attached to machines by more wires than he'd bothered to count. He hadn't been able to lift his right arm, much less wave it around in an angry rant. The scars were still there, deep and dark all along the side of his face, down his neck so that they disappeared under his shirt, and reappeared at the end of his sleeve to wind down the tan skin to fingers that still shook just a little. He looked tired, frustrated, but more whole than Steve had dared hope for. He wondered if that soft blue glow under his t-shirt has anything to do with it.

"What?"

Blue eyes blinked hard, meeting brown. "You look better."

"Hope so. It's been a while."

The blond cringed. "Yeah, but when I left…"

Tony tapped at the light, a familiar clinking sounding from the movement. "Made some upgrades to give myself a fighting chance. So far so good. How long have you been back?"

"Little over a week," he admitted softly. "I knew your plate was full. I didn't want to add to it if I could help it."

"Because keeping secrets to protect me have worked out so well in the past."

"Yeah," Steve huffed, memories flickering across his mind. Tony's look of utter betrayal and the no win situation that he had been in between two friends. He couldn't relive that.

Tony stood, his movements slow and he still leaned just a little heavier to his left. He straightened, shoulders squared and chin tilted up. "I need to know I can trust you, Cap. This… him here like this…"

"You can," Steve swore.

"Good." The younger man's lips twitched up at the corners and he reached out, patting Steve's arm in a playful manner he'd never thought he would miss as much as he had. "So, lets go get my dad's future murderer away from him so that he can survive long enough to get back to the past."

Steve quirked a blond eyebrow "You know they were friends, right?"

"Huh?"

"In the war. Your dad flew us when no one else would go into certain zones. The Howling Commandos loved him. Said he was the only civilian crazy as them."

"He must have left that one out of the endless stories," Tony grumbled.

"Probably didn't want you getting any ideas of hopping in a pilot's seat and flying straight into combat when you got older," Steve chuckled. Or a suit. There were more similarities between the two men than Tony likely knew.

"Doubt it ever crossed his mind that I'd be willing to." He turned, starting forward.

Steve reached out and caught him by the wrist. "Tony, listen. Howard's…. You and I knew very different Howard Starks, I get that, but the man in there… he's not the jaded one you've described. He's a good guy. Don't blame him for things he hasn't even done yet."

"If you say so, Cap. Let's just get him back to where he came from."

                                           _______________

It wasn't a surprise that his friend was upset. There was a lot of history there. Good, bad, and over the past week Steve had admitted that his own actions hadn't helped with Tony's trust issues along the way. He had struggled with if he should reach out to him or not, but Peggy knew that his heart was in the right place. If the quieter conversation was anything to go by, maybe Tony saw that too.

It was difficult to find a way to discreetly listen when Howard hadn't stopped talking since they'd been shuffled off to let Steve smooth things over. He was ecstatic. He took a seat next to Sergeant Barnes, laughing and joking, slipping questions in about Tony here and there like everyone in the room didn't know what he was trying to do.

"Even if I wanted to bust your future wide open, Howard, I couldn't tell you. Stark and I aren't what you'd call close."

He flashed that charming grin of his and gave the larger man a playful punch to the arm. "C'mon. You've got to know something. Anything."

Peggy's lips tugged down at the way Sergeant Barnes' shoulders sagged just a little and the strange glint of guilt in his eyes. "I wish I could, Howard. More than anything."

"You people are all so nervous. Where's your sense of adventure, huh? I'm not gonna break the universe."

"When you mess with time it tends to mess back," Tony's voice pulled their attentions back to the hall as he and Steve rounded in from it. Dark brown eyes, a little mischief in them just like Howard's came to rest on her. "And we're screwing with it pretty hard."

"Are you saying I should go home?"

"Nah. I'm saying he should."

Howard's mustache drooped. "Way to single me out, kiddo," he chuckled, much more pleased with the irony of their age difference than Tony seemed to be.

"Don't call me that."

"Tony then. Short for Anthony? That was my uncle's name. You probably know that, though." Howard stood from his spot, a little more serious now, even if the excitement still rolled off of him in waves. "Who'da thought I'd be a father, muchless raise the man that cracked time travel." His grin returned. "Definitely a Stark. Are you —"

"The less you know about me the better." He turned his attention over to Peggy, offering Sergeant Barnes only a brief glance. "Cap and I are going to go see Pym."

Peggy tilted her head. "I thought no one could reach him?"

"Like the man said, I'm a Stark. That opens up doors. Manchurian Candidate, keep your distance." He finally turned, possibly meeting Howard's gaze directly for the first time since he'd seen him there. "We should have you home by dinner time."

Tony turned in his heel, heading for the door and Peggy caught Steve's sleeve before he could follow. She didn't say anything. She didn't have to. She saw the stress there, the pleading for understanding and patience. There was more to this than she knew, but he couldn't explain in front of Howard. So she nodded, the acknowledgment of trust between them and they were gone.

She waited until the door closed behind them and locked before she turned back to Howard. He looked like every ounce of excitement had been crushed out of him. "He hates me."

"He knows you have to go," she tried, but Howard shook his head.

"I know that look. Same one I gave my ol' man. I just…. guess I'd hoped if I ever had kids I'd be better than him."

Sergeant Barnes stood quietly, making his way into the kitchen to give them some privacy. Peggy reached out. "Let's not jump to conclusions, shall we?"

He tried for a smile that didn't reach his eyes and Peggy patted his shoulder. If nothing else, she hoped perhaps his fear could be proven wrong.

                                           _______________

TBC

Notes: Well this chapter just sort of fell together and then Howard kicked me in the feels hard. Honestly, I thought it'd take him a lot longer to catch onto Tony's daddy issues, but my guess is that they probably share a lot of the same ones, just in different ways. Howard's father sold fruit on the Lower East Side, according to S1 of Agent Carter, so my guess is that even if Howard Sr was clever he didn't get a chance for the education that his son did. I could see a lot of strife, especially looking at the time period.  I'm really excited to get to this point in the story where Tony and Howard are going to be coming head-to-head quite a bit. Don't worry. Tony's calculations on when he's sending his dad home might be a little off :P

Next Time: Things don't go as planned when Tony and Steve visit Hank Pym.

[brooklynislandgirl]

78. Is there a friend you would willingly have sex with?

Once Bitten || -

Insouciant. Of all the words that she could describe Anakin with right in that moment, that one would make the top of the list, once she crossed off some of the choicer words that leave the echo of soap in the back of her throat. Technically the greenhouse isn’t public, so she wouldn’t actually be saying filthy things where anyone was in danger of overhearing her speak so vulgarly, but she wasn’t also technically in the house and thus would be violating the spirit of the rule she’d learned long ago. So she sticks with insouciant. 

It’s in the way he’s leaning into her. Hands on either side of the work counter, long fingers splayed across the wood, flesh impersonating rays of a shapely sun. It’s in the way he smells like cigarette smoke and Jack Daniels, he smells like rain on the horizon and dew clinging to the underside of leaves. Something else that she can’t put her finger on exactly but its clean, warm, and close, reminds her of salt spray on sea stones; goes right to her head and other places and in the morning she’ll wish that it came in a tiny glass bottle so she could spritz it on her pillows, her sheets. Maybe it's the whiskey barrel sweetness. Maybe it's the way that her hips and the small of her back, and that whole bit of her in between seems to fit just perfectly in the hollow of his own. Not that he’s bouncing against her, fidgeting where he stands, not obtrusively so. She can feel the sides of his converse ~vulcanised rubber, heavy canvas~ against the sides of her bare feet. Denim on chiffon. There’s a fervid kind of energy that envelopes him as it often does but there’s a different hue to it. And that is definitely a result of his voice right against her ear, fanning her cheek with his breath. The way its depth and timbre is something she could soak into, allow to drown out everything else from the sudden racing of her pulse to the way her breath hitches in her throat.

She closes her eyes for a brief moment, allowing her hands to clench the wood in a slightly different way, trying to draw a reserve of strength, of will from the potting soil and the snips of leaves and roots. As if all the resolve in the universe lies there beneath her nails. Answering him honestly is probably the worst thing she can do. Worse than coming up with some kind of specious lie that he would accept if he doesn’t examine it too closely, but one of the things that she likes about him is the way he unravels things, pulling them apart to examine their structure and integrity, before he carefully pieces it back together, often improved in its own way. She’d like to blame the fact that he has a talent for Matter. But even when his anxiety lays siege to his better nature and scrambles up his thoughts so that it takes him long minutes to get around to letting them come out of his mouth, he has a gift of telling personal truths like a well-remembered fairy tale.

She doesn’t mean that in a bad way, but he manages to put some distance between himself and his struggles that is truly remarkable. She doesn’t understand exactly how he does it, or even why, but she can sit there and listen to him for hours, and has done so in some cases. She envies him that particular gift, something she’s never had. Everything that lies inside her head is visceral and in the moment, very few exit lanes that aren’t choked with weeds and debris from growing up under the regime of her father. Moulded and shaped by her brother. And completely shattered by Billy. The black sheep, the long lost prince of a desiccated throne.

Maybe they are broken in different ways. She has more confidence in Anakin than he has in himself, their shyness book ends one another. In turn he has an eye for beauty or whatever it is that attracts him to other people and try as hard as she might, she can see no rhyme or pattern in it. Not that he’s brought strangers to her house that didn’t have little masked faces or fluffy grey wire-fur. She wants to know what drives him, how he finds himself in those places, and what he gets out of them. For once, she’d give her eye-teeth to experience that kind of passion. To feel immolated by the sensuality of it. Biting kisses along slender throat columns. Breathless hands everywhere and nowhere at once. But she knows better. She knows that all the things that are caught up in her head are not safe for public consumption. That they cling to a morality that is alien to everyone else she happens to know, that she can’t shake free of because she isn’t built that way.

He did throw in the qualifying designation of ‘friend’. That’s maybe worse than anything else he could say. The very idea of putting herself out there with someone she loves and trusts enough to be that close to is terrifying. What if they say no. Because they don’t love her life she wants? Worse, what if they do and something goes so catastrophically wrong that it ruins what might have been a perfectly fine, and above all else, platonic relationship?  The idea is so lined with her that she instinctively flinches away from the full exploration of that, she has enough things to lay awake at night in horror over. How does he do it? Make something so intimate and life changing casual? Oh she knows he’s charming, she knows that smile and a wink can get him almost anything he likes, whether it goes in his arm or his nose, or down on him while his fingers are in its hair. Magnetism like that is legendary in her Tradition and a few others. He’s like Kerouac and Morrison in that way, isn’t he? And what does he do when it dissolves at the first touch of the next morning’s dawn? 

Doesn’t he ever feel so lonely that even taking a breath feels like it’s going to crush his chest? Does he ever ache because a friend only lasted as long as it took for the high of their existence to wear off? She knows the answer already from the most abstract sifting through of their conversations.

So really the only thing she can do is be honest. Hope he sees how futile a line of pursuit this is. Because she could imagine letting him into her bed, and not just to curl up with him. She could imagine sharing more than she already has. And invariably, when Anakin slips out one night and doesn’t come back, it’s going to kill her.

By virtue of the ridiculous length of his arms, even if she’s pressed against parts of him, she still manages to turn without elbowing him in the sternum. Her hands leave the wood for only a brief moment before she returns to clutch them in desperate need of moral support. She forces a slight smile as she leans back a little, not realising that she would be so close. That she could see every freckle, that little mole that lives on the corner of his full lower lip. Had she noticed before how deep-set his eyes were, even with the shadows pooled beneath them? Pupils dilated drawing even more attention to that particular shade of blue. Makes it all so hard to find neutral ground to focus on. So she picks that tiny scar that bisects his brow, and reminds her to ask him how he got it, though she’s about a thousand percent sure it’s one of his dozens and dozens of tragic, heart-wrenching stories.

“Lizahd King finally returns. T’ought mebbe ya got lost.” she says, pleased that her voice sounds mostly normal. Her smile becomes something a touch more genuine. 

She presses her lips together and slicks them at the same time, making a tiny sound as her tongue retreats back behind her teeth. “Probably no gonna come as one big surprise t’ ya when I say...yes. An’ no. Look, don’ get me wrong. I love dat we have dis...hundred-clowns-in-a-Volkswagen kine of closeness. An’ I t’ink ya so amazing. So special. But firs’ of all… consider how much older I am. Five years may not seem like a huge deal, but it is. And den dere’s da fact dat in so many ways, I’m becoming ya mentor, is my job t’ teach ya da kine ya gonna need in da long run. An’ I would hate t’ have ya feel like I was some how takin’ advantage of ya.”

She swallows and moves her gaze down, to meet his own. “I’d be lyin’ if I said I nevah t’ought about it since dat one night. Dat I nevah had one dream about you...dat way, an’ felt ashame d’ nex’ morning. I jus’ dunno if...I’m wha’ ya need, wha’ ya want. If ya in a position t’ be wha’ I want an’ need.” It’s so hard to find the words when everything she wants to say seems to go right out of her mind even as she’s trying to get them out. “I knew da minute I saw you dat you were somet’ing special. An’ a part of me has tried t’ protect ya evah since. I worry when ya come home late. When ya don’ come a’ all. I worry dat ya gonna run into someone dat don’ got ya bes’ interest a’ heart, an’ is gonna use you. Make you feel worse about yaself dan ya sometimes do, dat dey gonna hurt you, break your heart, all kinds of bad stuff.”

One hand timorously leaves its perch to come and rest on his cheek. “Guess wha’ I am tryin’ t’ say is… I would. If you asked. If it jus’ happened. But not on purpose, not because I had any ulterior motive oddah dan da fact dat I...care about you so much. And maybe dat’s why I try ignore it. Try ignore you. Sometimes, is real hard t’ do dat. Especially when I can all but taste ya throat between my teeth. Feel ya hands on my skin. Which is why, mebbe, you should ge’ some sleep, yeah?”

[bethanyshawnovels]

Zodiac Shifters

A collection of books with an astrological spin on love. From Aries to Virgo… discover all-new tales of paranormal romance and urban fantasy. Zodiac Shifters features New York Times, USA Today, and other bestselling authors. Each month expect new releases based upon the twelve astrology signs.

Pisces - artist, dreamer, romantic

Out of the Ashes by Julia Mills

Meet the Guardian of the Zodiac and their companions the Dragon Guard of the Sea! Lost and thought dead, these mighty dragons arise from the depths to not only help to save all mankind but reunite with others of their kind. The mission is simple – get into the enemy camp, free the humans, return the demons to Hell and return home the victor. For a Daughter of Poseidon and her constant companion, Drákon – a centuries old water dragon, that’s called a good day at work. Everything is going as planned. Una, eldest daughter and Guardian of Pisces, has checked one and two off her list, and is headed to three when things get complicated. Brody Mason bows at her feet, pledging his allegiance to not only her but also, the gods and the Light. As a show of loyalty, he promises to take her to the portal from Hell and with his own blood help her close the door on the Underworld. This one act will rid the world of evil forever. There’s only one problem…he’s a Hellhound. It doesn’t matter that Drákon doesn’t believe him, fearing it yet another trick of Hades to deter them from their mission or that there’s fire in his eyes and the smell of brimstone on his olive skin, she can feel the truth in his words. It also doesn’t hurt that with just one glance he sets her heart ablaze and her pulse racing. Not that this is about love or lust, it is all about saving the Earth, protecting the humans, defeating her uncle’s evil…or is it? One leap of faith leads Una and Brody on a race against time and facing the fight of their lives. Hiding from Poseidon, Hades and an army of Guardians led by her sister, Zoe, this couple may have the best intentions but in the end, isn’t that what paves the road to Hell?

Release date: Feb. 28th 2017

AMAZON     AMAZON UK   AMAZON CA   AMAZON AU 

B&N/KOBO/iBOOKS

Excerpt 1 PG (please choose 1 and delete the other)

“They have invaded the entire western and southern borders. I fear the coast is next. I’m going to need you to go and help the humans with this battle. They are ill-equipped and just not strong enough to fight evil on such a widespread scale.” Una looked at her father, Poseidon, the god of the sea, as he stood beside his periscope with a worried look. She’d never, in all the millennium since her birth, seen the great god anything but confident and unencumbered by the woes of the Earth and Her human population, but this was different and much more personal. She hated to see the deep lines feathering from his glowing blue eyes or the downturned expression emphasized by her thick white mustache and beard. Family issues sucked, especially when you were a deity and your whims effected the world as everyone had come to know it. Hades, Una’s uncle and Poseidon’s older brother had caused trouble in the past but nothing so catastrophic or life threatening to the beings Una and her sisters had been charged with keeping watch over. Named the Guardians of the Zodiac, the Daughters of Poseidon had long been protecting Earth and her humans from afar. Una could scarcely remember the last time her boots had walked the terra firma, smelled the sweet scents of the many blossoms and tasted of the bounty only the small blue and green planet had to offer. It had always been their directive to lend assistance from afar, never to cross paths with the humans and always remain the deities they were intended to be. Things had now changed. Una would be the first of her sisters to fight alongside the ever resilient race with the hopes of saving them from certain demise. The first to do what they’d been training for since they were old enough to hold their weapons. Bowing, her bow at her side, the Guardian of Pisces asked, “When shall I leave? Shall I take Drákon?” Without turning away from his view of the Earth, Poseidon nodded, “You will need to leave this night, my daughter. When the veil between our worlds is the thinnest. By all means, take the dragon with you. You will need the help.” Breathing a sigh of relief, Una called to her constant companion and training partner, Drákon, a centuries old sea dragon her father had given the power to change from his original form to that of a human man. “We’re a go. Put on that flesh suit you’re so fond of and meet me in a hour at the docks.” “Hell yeah,” Drákon cheered, using the human vernacular he’d been studying for centuries. “Yippee ki yay…” “Whoa, there cowboy,” Una smiled, glad she’d been paying attention when her companion read out loud. “That’s a good way to meet the pointy end of Dad’s trident.” “Duly noted.” The ancient being was once again all business. “See you at the docks.” Working hard to chuckle and happier than she could admit to be leaving the pomp and circumstance of her father’s court, Una answered, “See you there.”

Excerpt 2 - Spicy (please choose one and delete the other)

“Hello, Pinkípissa Una. I missed you so when I awoke and you were gone.” Turning in his arms, she looked deep into the whiskey-colored eyes of the hellhound who’d captured her heart. She loved that he spoke in the native tongue of the gods. Combined with his deep, rumbling baritone and sexy accent, it was irresistible. She couldn’t imagine a time when he wouldn’t take her breath away. Leaning into his embrace, Una sighed as his lips met hers. She opened completely, reveled in the arousal racing through her veins as their tongues danced a sexy tango of their own design. Desire filled her being, growing stronger, more profound with every second. Whimpering with need at the hellhound’s bold advances, their hearts beat as one as he stoked the flames of want and desire with his every touch. Spinning their bodies while maintaining their embrace, Una soon found her back against the cool of the stone behind her and her legs wrapped around he’s waist. Her panties were immediately soaked with her excitement as he rolled his hips between her thighs, teasing her throbbing clit feeding her overwhelming need to come. Raking her nails down his back, feeling the ripple of the tribal markings under her fingertips, Una held Brody close, digging her hands into the taunt muscles of his ass to keep him in place. Tearing his lips from hers, her hellhound nibbled along her jaw and down her neck as he slipped one hand under her bum and pressed his hips tighter to her center while his other hand traveled between her legs, ripping the silk of her panties and sliding two fingers into her already slick pussy. Una mewled as he fucked her with his fingers, turning her arousal into desperation. Shoving her hands into his long silken hair, the she-wolf pulled his mouth back to hers, and bit his bottom lip before sucking his tongue into her mouth. His resulting growl spurred her on as she rode his fingers with wild abandon, her orgasm careening towards her like an out of control wild fire. The pad of Brody’s thumb found her clit and with little more than a touch Una was screaming her release as untold pleasure spread throughout her body. Not giving her even a minute of respite, her mate pulled his fingers from her pussy, let her wobbly legs slide down his body and spun her around, caging her in with his own body and placing their combined hands on the boulder before her. Moving one hand from hers and sliding it between their bodies, Una heard the telltale whine of his zipper a second before his lips were once again at her ear whispering, “I must have you, i kardí mou. I must feel you wrapped around me, joined as one. You are mine, Una and I will have you, love you, mark you as my mate for all to see.” His words ended just as his calloused hand rubbed down the globe of her ass, slipped into her pussy and out again just before the head of his cock slid into her sleek channel. Her nails scratched at the rock as in one slow glide, her hellhound filled her so tightly she felt him in every fiber of her being. Their bodies fit together like the pieces of a puzzle. His chest was plastered to her back as he kissed her shoulder, whispering of his undying love and their eternity together. Pulling back, followed by a quick thrust that forced fire to rush through her veins and Una was lost to the pleasure. Over and over Brody thrust into her, forcing all thought from her mind, pushing her back to the edge of pleasure she had just fallen over mere minutes before. Needing to come more that she needed to breathe, Una begged, “Please… please, agapiméni Hellhound mou…” “Yes, agápi mou. Yes. Orycheío gia pánta.” She couldn’t stop the smile that crossed her lips as he stated she would always belong to him. Their love was so complete, so beautiful, at times not even she could believe how the gods, specifically her father, the mighty Poseidon, had blessed her. His hands closed even tighter over hers as he growled, “Say it! Say it, now!” Her body closed even tighter around his as he drove in and out of her with such force the words spilled from her lips, “Yes, yes, agápi mou…yours, always yours.” Her words pushed some button deep within the man she now had no doubts was her chosen mate. His strokes became frantic. His cock branded her as his for all eternity a mere second before she was flying high, the intensity of her orgasm stealing the breath from her lungs. Sure nothing could feel any better, Una suddenly felt his canines sink into the flesh of her shoulder. The mixture of pleasure and pain shattered whatever control she had been holding onto. Lights, like fireworks, burst behind her closed eyelids. She screamed and moaned and begged. Her nails extended into the claws of her water dragon, one of the many forms that were hers to call, as beautiful, shimmering blue-green scales appeared on the backs of her hands. One final thrust and Brody was roaring so loud the ground beneath her feet shook. “Mine! Dikos Mou!” Her pussy sucked him deep inside, her body reveled in the feel as he bathed her insides with his warm semen. Una never wanted to be anywhere but in Brody’s arms. The world be damned, she had found her forever Mini orgasms continued to rock her core as his cock slid from her pussy and he spun her around. Kissing her like she was the most precious thing in all the world, her hellhound lifted her into his arms and walked into the cave they would be calling home while n earth. “Oh, agápi mou, my Una…”

About the Author

Hey Y’all! I’m Julia Mills the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author of the Dragon Guard Series. I without a doubt admit to being a sarcastic, southern woman who would rather spend all day laughing than a minute crying. Living with my two most amazing daughters and a menagerie of animals, keeps me busy but I love telling a good story. Now, that I’ve decided to write the stories running through my brain, life is just a blast! My beliefs are simple. A good book along with shoes, makeup, and purses will never let a girl down and no hero ever written will compare to my real-life hero, my dad! I’m a sucker for a happy ending and alpha men make me swoon. I’m still working on my story but I promise it will contain as much love and laughter as I can pack into it! Now, go out there and create your own story!!! Dare to Dream! Have the Strength to Try EVERYTHING! Never Look Back! I ABSOLUTELY adore stalkers so look me up on Facebook and sign up for my newsletter at JuliaMillsAuthor.com. Send me a message! Thank you for reading my stories!!! XOXO Julia

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