#(('to meet eyes is humanity's way of kissing spiritually without lust'))

[roscvcins]

@misericordiis asked : reverse 「 HELP 」 for Hanzhu and Caleb! - SUBTLE NSFW (ACCEPTING)

「 HELP 」 : for sender to help receiver undress

The cool, soft scent of vapor that clings to him stirs the dead air, and she suddenly notices the light when it falls on the side of his face. The world jumpstarts to life - CLAMOROUS and sudden, the waiting over - lights and noise in the distance, the rhythmic underlying pitter-patter of rain, the city awake and demanding of acknowledgement - but It has always felt more than natural to LOOK at him. Even before she was told to, she thinks - inevitably perhaps, the world concises with him in it.

And - she likes when things are simple. It's easy, to focus her attention into a singularity, to be drawn into his gravitational pull and to close out the din that she had been scared of when she was younger - and not be alone either in the end, because he was there. He would be there. Tentatively, she reaches out, and her hands are gentle, touch light. Works silently, buttons and fabric and metal and pads of fingers ghosting over skin. New scars, old callouses, familiar rise and fall of inhale and exhale. Habitual, like this is how they've always been; unfamiliar, because she has never done this, a dance they are just now learning.

"...I think it'd be best to head for the bath, before you catch a cold." Voice is soft and quiet, weaving seamlessly into the air between them. And yet despite her suggestion, she turns her face up - still submerged in his shadow, her eyes clear when she looks into his for a moment too long - always a moment, just a moment.

[zet-sway]

Spiritual Shrios Summer - OASIS

This is a prompt fill for @rosenkow's Spiritual Shrios Summer!

Prompts | release | oasis | moan | delirium | pray | sweat | whisper | afterlife | contaminated | skin | worship | incense | godless | petals | taste | nectar | caress | mirage | ripe | sundown | hallucinate | salt | intoxicated | soul | embrace | hunger | wet | adrenaline | breathe |

PROMPT WORD: OASIS - | - WORDS: ~2600

Rated: "E" for "Extremely Spicy" [NSFT] AO3 Link: "Alive with the Dawn" Pairing: Thane / FemShep Summary: "Please, Siha, lie with me beneath the sunrise."

A/N: @yennas sent me an ask box prompt for "a kiss on the wrist" and I got... carried away lol. I had been planning to write a "oasis vacation fic" and that prompt was the spark that lit the fire lol

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Thane has a way of awakening her body like no one else does.

The first wisps of sunlight begin filtering through the open patio in their bedroom, bidding her to wake with the dawn as he bids her to wake with his body. Nearly soundless, he whispers over her bare skin, hands blazing a trail ahead that he follows with his mouth. He’s so gentle she might even call him reverent, every sound on his lips like a prayer to his gods and his loves.

He presses firmer as she stretches off the stiffness of sleep. Her eyes are closed, but she can feel him - a palm low on her belly, pressing her backside against his unclothed hips.

For a moment she almost forgets where they are. The atmosphere is like a dream - plush sheets beneath her, gauzy pale curtains shifting with a gentle desert wind, casting slow flickering shadows across their bed. Fresh air in her lungs, silent but for the leafy palm fronds that shake in the breeze.

An oasis. A moment just for them, two lovers snatching one earned moment in the chaos of the galaxy on the cusp of war.

She rolls back against his body, humming at the welcoming heat of bare scales, smooth and lustrous after so many days under the desert sun.

“Good morning, Siha,” he whispers. He leans over her, sheets cast down around his hips, and kisses her forehead.

“Morning.” She works the sleep out of her features and cracks her eyes open, still bleary. “Is it just the sun or have you always been this gorgeous?”

She rests a hand on his cheek, stroking his glossy green scales.

“Perhaps a bit of both,” he says in amusement, closing a gentle hand around her forearm and shifting his lips to her wrist.

The way he kisses her makes her body sing unlike anything else. She might be spoiled for pleasure for the rest of her life, because there’s never been a person who’s touched her like Thane does. His devotion makes her spine tingle, firm lips opening over her pulse to lave his tongue along skin she never knew could be so sensitive.

To have died and been resurrected for the privilege of sharing a bed with this man… there are no words. She surrenders herself to his soft affections; he’s hungry for her in a way she never would’ve thought possible. At times it's lust and at times it's sweetness, but always, it's something deeper, difficult to grasp. He practices love the same way he lives it - with whispered devotion. Every touch is a sacrament, every word a promise.

She sighs as he tastes her skin. She never knew, never would have believed in intimacy this perfect. Past lovers took their pleasure from her, left her bored and unsatisfied. It wasn't until she first kissed Thane that she learned the purity of a lover's touch.

“No scale unturned,” she murmurs as he kisses along the inside of her forearm, fingers soothing not far behind.

He's bemused. “Turned scales are painful, Siha."

She closes her eyes and smiles, unwilling to stop him as he blazes a trail across her collarbones. “I’d have guessed. I was making a joke. Humans have a phrase: No stone unturned. It means you’re very thorough.”

He hums, lips over her breastbone. “It warms my heart to see you like this.”

Her smile is beaming. “It warms my heart when you… oh…” his lips push tenderly into the side of her breast, just over her pulse, and again atop one dusky nipple. “Fuck, how are you so good at this?”

Shepard bites back a moan as his attention shifts to her other breast, flicking its peak with his tongue. With confidence unfaltering, he responds, “I have the privilege of a receptive lover. One might argue that you are simply good at receiving pleasure.” There's delicious pressure on her ribs as his hands push into the base of her breasts, appreciating their softness. “I’m called to you, Siha. I seek only to love you as you deserve.”

Heat blooms across her cheeks and she presses into her pillow, averting her eyes.

Scaled fingers graze through her hair. “You’re flushed. Are you... blushing?”

It’s embarrassing, but she meets his eyes as he cradles her cheek in his palm. “Shut up. It means I like you.”

From somewhere within him comes a deep sound. She’s heard it before, the one he only makes for her. With a kiss atop each of her flushed cheeks, he says, “Dra’shu, se tu-fira.”

Each syllable rolls off his tongue like water, coated in that rumbling baritone she loves so well. She could listen to him talk for hours, as though only good and beautiful thoughts could be spoken in such a language. She whispers across his lips, "What did you say?”

He answers with a gentle kiss. “By Arashu, I am lost in you." The words are their own kind of reverence as he nuzzles into her neck. "Even your skin calls for me. You are a blessing."

She kisses his scales in gratitude. Accepting compliments has never been her strong suit, but he knows that.

The mattress shifts and he stands from their bed, fingertips trailing along her arm. "Come out on the patio with me?"

She cracks open an eyelid to catch his scales glinting in the dim light as it creeps through the doorway. "But it's so early."

"Indeed, it will be more tolerable for you while the sun is still low," he offers, kissing her forehead. "Please, Siha. Lie with me beneath the sunrise."

He's poetry in motion, and she is his willing listener. She shifts, throws an arm out to leverage herself up only to feel his strong arms snake beneath her waist and knees. As if she were a damsel, he carries her out to the patio, scales warm like glazed clay against her bare skin. Why had they even packed clothes? There’s no one around for miles.

Their vacation villa is settled among a manicured collection of desert flora. Tall palm trees sway above smooth stones and greenery, partially surrounded by a swimming pond, and further still is the sandy stretch of desert dunes. In the sky, night is beginning to melt into day, stars still twinkling in the darkest reaches of the sky as the sun begins to peek over the horizon behind their villa. And there among the various amenities is an outdoor sunning bed, complete with white sheets and gauzy fabric draped around a breezy canopy. Thane sets her gently on the mattress and she settles in, stretching out on her stomach in sleepy contentment.

He's right about one thing - the warming sunrise feels like autumn in reverse, slowly heating the chill of desert night into a sweltering day. The air is just right. It strikes her that she doesn't find it weird to bask fully nude under the sky. Years of combat training have conditioned her against such vulnerabilities, but the persuasive power of their luxuriant getaway is too great to ignore. Years of hypervigilance unravel with startling expediency, but does it matter? If this is to be how she spends her last moments, she won't complain.

Thane sits upright beside her, wordlessly brushing her hair away from her skin. She's nearly fallen back asleep when he begins rubbing sunscreen slicked hands across her back.

Those hands of his - the first time she’d seen them, they were snapping necks and crushing windpipes. Back then, sharing his bed had been the furthest thing from her mind. Now, luxuriating under a brightening sky, it feels like they’ve known each other for a lifetime; she's been privileged to learn that those same, deadly hands are capable of no small number of pleasures.

She breathes out her anticipation when he straddles her thighs. The first deep press of his strong, scaled fingers into her flesh sends a throaty groan from her lungs. If he wants to rub her back like this, she sure as shit isn't going to stop him.

“Fuck , never stop doing that.” she sighs.

Thane merely hums in appreciation, massaging sunscreen into her muscled arms and shoulders.

It’s hard not to fall back to sleep beneath those incredible hands of his. Like he knows her too well, he's carefully keeping her awake as only he can. He covers her, lips brushing the back of her neck and ghosting down her spine as he drags his hands down her sides. When he kisses the small of her back, his palms settle on the firm hill of her backside, sliding and kneading with confident strokes. Shepard honestly never thought a butt rub would feel so good - to have gone her entire adult life without experiencing this? Ludicrous. His hands are heaven sent, igniting nerve endings she never knew she had, sowing his own need into her skin, tempting her to arousal.

He reaches the backs of her thighs and he's not shy about letting his fingers brush along their apex. Each firm press of his hands carves deep rivers of pleasure into her flesh and she’s melting under his touch. Her body sings with contentment, longing, and everything in between. She hasn’t felt this unguarded since before her enlistment. The promise of pleasure to come, the wonton love he lays into her, endless worship of her flesh until he finally surrenders and presses his fingertips into her wet center.

This time, when she moans, it’s another sound entirely. Her voice betrays the heat rising in her chest and between her thighs as he works her. Plush lips meet the base of her spine as he settles between her knees and pushes her hips up in the air. She lets him - good god, she’d let him do anything after he’s carefully unraveled her for what feels like hours. Ass in the air, he pulls her against his mouth, tongue swirling over the bud of her arousal while his hands roam the curve of her backside.

He licks into her lazily, clearly in no hurry and indulging in her arousal. That deft tongue carries his venom into her body and before long she's tingling with that familiar high. She's slowly burning up, eager for more - her body begging to be loved senselessly in the morning sun.

She tries to flip over, but he stops her with his firm grip, a demure "Please..." slipping her throat with every unrelenting stroke of his tongue. He doesn't linger - in moments he's upright on his knees and teasing her clit with the tip of his unsheathed erection.

She bites her lip. "This isn't too impersonal for you?"

"Shepard," he says, in that deadpan he uses when he doesn't want to repeat himself, "Please believe me when I tell you there is nothing impersonal about the way l’ll make you scream for me."

Whatever thoughts that might've been lingering in her mind are gone the moment he utters those words. The chills down her spine are the only warning she gets before he's pushing into her slick channel, prying her open with that exquisite, smouldering sting that feels like nothing else. He huffs out a breath, each subtle ridge of his florid length stretching and filling her, slowly pressing forward until his hips go flush with her thighs and she rocks impatiently into him.

“Fuck… fuck, Thane. I wish you knew how good this feels.”

He chuckles quietly and the expression vibrates through him enough to make her eyes roll back. “I'm not even moving, Siha."

"Yeah," she huffs. "My point exactly.” From this angle, he lodges so perfectly against her core that even the unmoving press of his hardness makes her see stars.

Cradling her hips, he pulls back and rocks into her again, groaning at the wet, silken heat of her body. She's already beginning to come apart, clutching at the sheets beneath them. It’s unparalleled, what he does to her. Becoming one flesh, whispering his admiration to dive straight into her heart and know her as the woman she is with no pretense, no reservations. Two people from different worlds, but crafted so finely for one another. She swears she can feel every nerve in her body as sure as a tree feels every quaking leaf upon its branches. She absorbs the intense, breathtaking heat of him like a life force, granting her power beyond imagining to receive every pleasure he has to give. From his most subtle touches to the blinding fire of each deep thrust, she feels him.

And good god , how she screams for him. Sound carries across desert sands just as much as it does on a starship, but this time there's no one around to hear her come undone. Her voice is boundless, lost and drifting through ruffled palm fronds and across golden dunes. The sounds of their ecstasy lighting upon no ears but their own.

His palms round over her backside, drifting over muscled thighs, finding the heart of her arousal and slicking his fingertips against it without mercy. He tilts his hips just so and the new angle is somehow impossibly deeper, the darkness behind her wide-shut eyes erupting in shards of color. Her voice is a throaty sob beneath his touch until she breaks apart, shouting for dear life because there's nothing in this world or the next that feels as good as he does. She rides herself on him until her climax saps her strength and she's left moaning, quivering and breathless, Thane above her seeking his own completion.

He could never hope to know the pleasures his body bestows upon her. Her world is immaterial. There's only the sun and sweat on her back, the sweet, light air in her lungs - the snap of his hips sending chills down her spine and blooming heat in her chest as though her nerves aren't evolved enough to interpret the sensations rushing through her. She fists her hands in the sheets, back arched downward with a cheek pressed into the mattress and unable to think of anything but the blood-boiling pulse of him between her legs.

He chokes out a roar when his climax takes him, suffusing her depths with the tingling warmth of his release. The sweet, floating high of him overtakes her nearly instantly as they tangle against one another, panting and spent, rustling air dancing over sweat-slicked skin and glossy scales. Above them, the golden sky is banishing the last touches of night and the sleepy warmth of exertion overtakes them both.

She slumps heavily into the sheets, and he beside her.

“I’ll be honest, this isn't what I expected when you asked me to ‘lie with you beneath the sunrise.’”

He brushes an errant lock of hair from her eyes. “Nor I," he smiles. "I confess, you're very… distracting.”

Shepard laughs, "No shit, you're insatiable. I haven't had this much sex since… actually I don't think I ever have."

"Surely you had lovers before me?"

"You aren't my first, if that's what you're asking. But I wouldn't call them lovers." She pulls her arms around his neck and he nuzzles his face unabashedly into the softness of her chest. Her voice is low. "No one's ever given me what you have, Thane."

His throat rumbles in appreciation, and he shifts to meet her eyes. The sun illuminates the brilliant green of his irises and it feels like gazing into peace eternal. And then he laughs, unexpectedly.

She quirks an eyebrow. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, Siha,” he says with a smile. “Simply put, I never thought I’d get to call myself Commander Shepard’s boyfriend.”

She kisses the dark scales adorning his forehead, giggling, and pulls him into a tight embrace.

Commander and assassin are long forgotten titles as they lose themselves in one another in the lazy sunlit morning.

[c-atm]

Drive/Home:The path to you (Astral connection part 3)

  Connie looked outside of her window with a groan. She was feeling lonely and touch-starved. She hasn't seen Steven in the last two months, the last they met being their time in the dream...When he told of his visions of his mother. The last time they talked was a week after, a small sweet text with a little information about his next destination, though it had a typo..

‘Can’t wait to meet up again. I'll contact you when I reach my next destination; it's a beach tourist town. I'll pick you up there for your birthday. I love you, Dream Berry’

Connie sighed, a mixture of sadness and pining in the same breath.

“What a way to bring in my twentieth birthday.” She looked at the clock near her bed reading 12:30 am.She officially turned twenty, thirty minutes ago...More importantly to her, it was officially one year since Steven and her became ‘Dream buds’.

“Is he having second thoughts, regrets?”  

Connie has been wondering about this since for a couple of weeks...Within the dream they crafted, they acted like newlyweds. They talked intimately, sharing secrets no one else knew, like him no longer being a vegetarian and her getting a tattoo on her right inner thigh...A black and red star. 

They kissed each tenderly, passionately, and hungrily, in ways and places only they could. They touched each other in ways that only they could. They loved each other in ways special to them. He loved her in ways no other man or woman would ever be allowed to; an exchange of each other's last bit of mental and spiritual chastity. 

She was grateful it was through astral connection and not yet a physical one, or they might've been in trouble after the first few times.. She did start to take precautions in the physical plane, for when...If they did.

“What a way to wake from a dream though. Even more tired, but so much more...Everything else.”

His little carnal text of thank you’s and praise for her amorous nature, they were always the highlight of waking up after those types of nights. It was revitalizing to have him not just enjoy her more... Erotic side...but appreciate it; welcomed it. 

"Though Dreamscuit is more libidinous, than I expected." She let out a silent chuckle as she thought of one particular time they were carnivorous with each other.

The scene was a hidden spring he found on his travels, surrounded by tropical foliage and a waterfall spilling into it. He was in it, bare as birth, looking towards her who sat on the edge in her nightwear. The story of how he came across it was simple. 

He fell in after chasing down and poofing a falcon like gem mutant. The mutant was causing problems for a nearby cape town with its destructive  behavior, running through shops and breaking merchandise, ravaging the forest nearby, rampaging through the streets. He put an end to it after a chase through the forest, and a well placed shield bash after hitching a ride in its back. 

 He plummeted, as the falcon was already diving in attempt  to throw him off, leaving him flying down the path set for him. Which happened to be in the spring, he was slightly knocked out due to the force of entry. He stated he dreamed about her during that time...Always dreamed about her when he came here.

Her asking him to tell her his dreams sealed the deal as he swam over to her, innocently; placed his hands on her knees, innocently ; and suggested he showed her his dream; INNOCENTLY .  She agreed of course, it was her Innocent Dreamberry.

Which is why she was surprised when he examined her new tattoo thoroughly, through kneading, suckling and nipping. When he touched her  in ways and places she herself dreamed about., stealing her breath, making lay back as he revealed his fantasies through action..and unknowingly, allow  Connie to live out her own, in a manner of speaking. 

At the end, she sat upon him in the spring, peppering his neck and chin with kisses and nips as  he held and instinctively caressed her in away only her can. A way only she would allow him too. They were bare, bitten, bathed in sweat and spring water, and felt a bit bestial in their actions; but there were love with the lust, care with the carnality, romance with ravishing, solicitude with the sex. Their appetitive actions were fueled by their unyielding adoration for each other. It was wonderful..as was the three rounds after; they turned out to be quite the carnivorous couple.

"Couple..are we a couple?"

Small thoughts like that plagued her over the last two weeks, like an annoying bug that won't die and she couldn't stand herself for having them. Six weeks of complete Steven silence led her to uncertainty, over-worry, doubt. It brought thoughts of him being hurt, lost, in danger..even..

"No..He's ok..He's fine..much better than before he left on all fronts."

A calming thought that was compounded  by even worse ones...Her thoughts went from his well being to their new status and the possibility of him no longer seeing her like that. Maybe he found someone else he can be physically intimate with instead of just in a dreamscape? Maybe he found someone better to be with? Maybe he found a better life in the town he was going to..and didn't want to break her heart.

Is this what it was to miss your partner...your lover? Could they even say they were together.. Everything happened in their dreams. Besides fatigue nothing physical passed on.

" Maybe, I'm delusional and even sent those texts to myself." Connie laughed a harsh wet laugh as she laid on her bed. She was so pathetic right now. She knew better. She knows better.. She was just missing him..Badly.

"Get it together, Maheswaran...Just because  he's not around doesn't mean your world stops and everything you shared is moot. You went ten months without him and kept it together. Besides, you know your Biscuit, your Steven...Your man...Whatever  reason he's been silent, it's important."

Rationality and logic sucks sometimes...She did know Steven and because she knew him, she could reason that he going silent was probably  important...Yet stupid. He has a track record of ghosting people because he believes it's the right thing to do at the moment or he didn't want to burden someone..That thought just stroked her ire. She looked towards her phone and all the messages she sent him without a response..

"I'm gonna smother him next time we meet.. I swear to the stars."

 Just as she was about to send another text..A roar was heard outside her window. She turned to see Lion, by himself looking up expectantly, ready for his mistress to mount him. 

"Well, at least there is one dependable guy in my life." 

Connie smirked as she got her jacket, her sword and went to meet her current favorite boy in the whole universe. She kissed the beast skull as she nuzzled close to him. Who in turned nuzzled against  the crook of her neck before licking her cheek, making her giggle. She really could count on Lion to make her feel better.

"Why couldn't you be human, you'd be the best partner. Adorable, dependable, loyal, near ageless, able to teleport where you want..NOT LARS, but of course you have to be a lion, so I can only love you like a son." 

She mounted the pink beast, ready for wherever they were going. With a roar, Lion created a portal and the two were off.

"So where are you taking me this time, Lion. A meadow, a battlefield, a forest." She  chuckled as she held onto the beast. This wasn't the first time Lion took her out on a stroll alone. Far from it, this has been a common occurrence ever since Steven's surrender all them years ago. 

She was surprised to see them on the beach behind the temple..The place where she officially  met Steven. He bent down allowing her to mount off him. She turned to the sea rested her sword down and watched the serene waves as Lion gave her one last lick and nuzzle, before walking off...As he does on their 'dates', until the time he's needed. She sat pulling her knees to her chest as she took in the scent of the beach with her eyes closed.

The sand, surf and saltwater; his old smell, comforting as always...His smell now was a lot more woody, musty, musky. earthly..It was consuming, arousing and energizing… 

Thinking about it made her imagine him. His broad chest, large limbs,long locks, whiskered face, rugged face and strong let pleasant breath. She was so lost in her thoughts that they could literally feel his touch upon her.

 The fell of his arms holding her in that special way, around her middle and just above her chest.  His inner thighs brushing against her hips as he sat her on his crossed legs, the feel of his whiskered chin on  her collarbone. She could feel him, smell him.

"So this is what it means to be in love..  To long for someone so much that you can feel their presence even when they are not around. You're not even here..I don't know where you are, but I feel your touch, smell your scent... Isn't that stupid.,,"

"I wouldn't say that, Birthday Berry."

Connie's eyes opened up a husky, wine-like voice, as she looked up to Steven's smirking face. She looked past him for a moment before stretching out her hand to the left as flexing her fist.

"I..I'm not dreaming." 

"Oh."

"I was going to summon a wiffle bat and bash your head in."

"Ouch.."

" I can't...I can't see the edge of our scene...Cause it's not a scene… It's real..," 

Steven kissed her crown tenderly as her breath became short, her eyes moistened and her hands trembled as she reached up and touched his face. It was warm..much warmer than the last twelve months. They chuckled, giggled and laughed as the tears began to fall from both of them. Connie kissed his temple as they held each other closed. Silently whispering to each other affirmation after affirmation, that this moment was reality, he was there with her, she was there with him, they were holding, kissing basking in each other in reality.

 Connie turned towards him to hold her best friend and be held by him, before looking up. " Was it real?..Last year.. Those times..Was that really.." 

She never got to finish as he kissed her tenderly.. The same way he's done it for the last year..Except more chapped, more full, had more heat, softer, gentler..yet rugged. It was his kiss..just not as a dream and she melted for it all the same.

He broke it and looked at her before whispering in her ear about the spring. About what they did in the spring. About the bites, the sounds, the words..Her mark's on his back. About him paying so much attention to her star.

Connie gulped as she covered her face  in embarrassment.

"It was all real, Dream Berry. So to speak." He stroked her hair, as he reaffirmed last year.

Connie laid her head on his chest before taking  his hand in hers. "You're so big now."

"You've said that, almost every time we've met"

"Can't I admire your growth."

"Sure, as long as I can admire your own." 

Connie smirked impishly as she covered herself playfully. "These curves are for my partner and me only.."

"Isn't that me though."

Connie looked to the sea. "I thought so..I hoped so..then you went ghost...AgaIn." She looked towards him with a sadden glint in her eye.  "Two months, No contact.. What happened?"

Steven sighed, shame coming from the breath. "I did what I said I was going to. I came to a beach tourist town..I returned here, was here for a bit, maybe a night ..Before heading to Homeworld."

Connie listened intently as he told her of the last two months. How he paid a visit to Homeworld, where he experienced a galactic jamboree. From the consensus it was surprisingly a lot of fun compared to the last ones; now that era 3 was in full effect. He also found out that the diamonds were thinking about sending gems to other planets as diplomatic representatives in hope to find other ways to expand their race and ranks without harming another.

He told the Diamonds, Spinel, and Volleyball the truth about his mother's feelings for them. How she regretted everything she did to them and loved them all until her last second, despite everything that transpired. Told them everything she did to herself in their name as well. It was a bittersweet conversation  but it did put some things in perspective.

He was on Homeworld a month before heading back to the beach city, to the temple, to his family. He was surprised to see all six gems and his father waiting, expecting him to come out of the warp stream. They all stood silently for what seemed like an eternity. 

"I cried. I took a deep breath...I was going to say hi...Joke...Something...but I cried...We all cried."

Connie let use a chortle, wiping a tear herself. " Of course, you guys did. Not seeing each other for so long, seeing how everyone changed, must've been shocking. Wish I was there to see the reunion."

"If they hadn't ambushed me like that, you would've, I digress though.."

Steven continued his tale, speaking of his journeys across the earth, The same tales he told Connie. He was surprised at the changes of the gems.

 Pearl was giving relationships a chance with Sabina. Amethyst really took over as Little homeschool headmaster and even got Jasper in her staff, as a teacher in motivation.That made Steven pause for a moment, but he accepted it. Garnet was the vice headmaster of little Homeworld. Peridot, along with Bismuth, Pearl and Connie made little homeworld R&D, with Bismuth and Pearl acting as directors, as Peri still had her gardening classes to attend to and Connie had college.  Lapis took her art online and got exposure for some of their meep-morps. Lapis was on her way to becoming famous and Greg is managing her. Bismuth took her forging online and now has a following of 10 mill on tubetube. As for Greg,he was still his dear old dad...Just a little grayer.

After catching up, Steven sat them down in the living room before telling them about Rose quartz, and unlike with the diamonds and Spinel, he told them everything. Her travels, her self-hatred,  Sheva, the self-poofing...Everything.

"We've put a smaller version of her picture back on the living room desk. It's progress." 

"I take it, they were reeling from the revelation."

Steven nodded. "Garnet split to hold each other, Lapis and Peri consoled Bismuth, Dad and Pearl had each other."

"And Amethyst?"

"Amethyst...Actually took it well, better than anyone else."

Connie features softened at the prideful look on his face. 

"She took me to the side and asked me how I'm handling it. I told her that I was fine..Which I was and am..I came to terms with what she was and dealt with…How she dealt with them.."

His eyes glistened a bit as he held his head down thinking about Rose and how similar he was to her.

 "We had a nice one-on-one...Talked about how I was going down a similar path as mom. Starting to hate myself for not being needed, or able to help people...You know, things I told you."

  Connie nodded as she recalled one of their first dreams together. She remembered holding him as tearfully told her how he started to feel unfulfilled and useless again. After everything he went through to get better even seeing a therapist. He still felt the need to get away from everyone and everything related to the Crystal gems. He felt like he still needed to find himself..These were the reasons he left.

“After that..Amethyst asked when did I talk to you about this."

Connie eyes widened at the statement, trying to hide her shock through a smirk. " What?"

"She just figured it out. Said that I had a certain calmness and maturity, about everything. Said the only time I am like that is when I talk to you and mulled it over."

He took her hands in his and gave them a kiss. Connie squeezed them back.

"What did you tell her?"

"The truth...No need to keep it hidden…"

" Oh..And what truth is that?"

Connie smirked as he felt his lips upon hers, his thumbs massaging the back of her hands. His smell invigorating her senses… He broke the kiss but didn't pull away, nuzzling behind her ear giving her small nips. 

" Said I've been visiting my girl twice a month, for the last year."

"Hmm.. Except for the last two."

As Steven pulled away ready to apologize to Connie, when she placed her index on his lips, shaking her head as she did.

"Don't...You did nothing wrong. If anything, I should apologize...I wanted you to feel a bit bad for not contacting me, that's not how you treat your partner."

"Your partner, huh?" 

"I mean.." 

Her bashful side glance made him snort, which in turn made her cheeks flamed. "If you'd have me."

With amusement, Steven caressed her left cheek before drawing close. Nose tips touched as he looked into her deep black eyes. 

"Obviously. I am still under the assumption that today is our anniversary, as well as your birthday. Am I…"

"No!" Connie let a little stifled laugh at Steven's surprised face. Her heart was pounding against her chest, she found it hard to look at his eyes..she felt anxious, excited, and scared. "No. You're not wrong…I..I also thought of us as a couple since then...Though we never defined it, exactly."

"Dream-buds"

She smiled as she nuzzled into the stroking palm, kissing it. The moonlit ocean giving her eyes an fantastical glow. "We're not in a dream now, Dreamscuit."

His face turned pink and not from his gem. "And yet you're still calling me that.”

“Of course...You’re my Biscuit and a big piece of my dream for the future. Besides, you called me Dream Berry. Why is that?”

Steven licked his lips before letting his his hands rest on her hips and pulling her close...Trying to ignore how thin her nightwear was. She tilted her head slightly to the right as she saw a passionate light in his cool, almond eyes. 

“You know why..It’s the same reason as you to me.”

Connnie gave a teasing grin, before tracing his cheek and jaw. She kissed him lovingly, passionately, heartfully. Her loneliness and heartache over the two months, her regret and penance over doubting him for even a moment. Her swelling pride and carnal hunger for him, Her thankfulness and graciousness over his safe return. Her happiness and undaunting love for him. It was all displayed, all revealed to him in that kiss. 

Her kiss tenderness left him awe-struck, the depth; weak, the emotion; speechless.The touch left him trembling. His heart swelled and burst as he held her close by her back returning the kiss...The emotions  He felt rejuvenated, reborned, truly reformed .He felt as he truly returned home.

They broke the kiss, laughing with tears in their eyes. Words lost them as they wiped each other's eyes and gave each other chatse kisses.. It was a few moments before they relaxed, opting to hold each close. 

“I love you.”

Both their eyes widened at the dual confession,neither expecting it from the other first. Connie broke out of the stupor first, tackling him down to lay upon him. Her head on his chest  ear to heart.

“You are home with us, with me. After so long. It’s real…In the present.”

Steven held her close, left hand stroking her head, right arm around her waist. “Yeah..I’m finally home..Finally where I want to be.”

As he gaze down at her receiving a small yet illuminating grin. He couldn’t help but think that both their present and future never looked so brighter.

[nomoretears-707]

Eruri Week 2019 // Day 3.

On AO3: (x) 

(((There’s a little of intimacy in this one, but it’s not explicit.)))

—

//Only one bed//

—

Having Levi with him in ​​this bed, sharing this kind of space with him, is different. In fact, it’s always different, because we are all different, but no: with Levi, another kind of things happen, another kind of sensations flow.

Being in this bed with Levi is an out of body experience.

It's not about his beauty, which is moving because of how intense, how unique it is, nor how much they complement each other even in the most intimate. Levi's charm, actually, comes from the scars that he has.

He sees them under the dim light that illuminates them, which stains the entire room in bronze and shadows: kissing the whitish chest of inconceivable softness considering the strength that he has, Levi's scars are on his skin without actually being there. They are like flares, stars that ignite, that extinguish, that not every pupil would tolerate to look at. They are scars that not everyone can read, not because the language in which they express themselves is incomprehensible, but because Levi himself forbids his reading. Because reaching him is difficult, it always will be. Because although Levi cares for everyone with a naturalness worthy of the best men who can populate this world, he's not someone who can tolerate self-directed concern. This moves Erwin, infects him with an unusual tenderness that he’s barely able to bear.

It's about wondering if he deserves this knowledge, the one which allows him to read Levi perfectly every time they are alone, on this bed in which they share the same intimacy, one that is not just physical, that is emotional, mental, spiritual.

Absolute.

The back arches in the only way it could do it given the scars that this body carries: it does so abruptly. The scars explain why with very few words: violence has educated Levi, it has shaped him from day one, during the path he has made up to this precise moment. To express feelings, to allow himself to accept them, to enjoy them, to treasure them; everything that’s incompatible with violence is difficult for Levi. The skin screams so much experiences that reaching the fragility it covers is something that would be impossible for anyone.

Until Erwin, who has Levi in ​​his arms and continues to wonder why, with the weight of so many deaths on his shoulders, he deserves to be able to read the scars that cover this skin.

Erwin holds each Levi's arm on each side of their bodies. Keeping them immobilized, he descends with kisses that go from the chest to the stomach. Levi shakes abruptly with every touch, almost as if the kisses bothered him, but it’s not the case: Erwin has learned to understand that Levi is shaken like this for a single reason, that tied to violence.

He doesn't know how to react to tenderness.

Many nights inside this bed has needed Erwin to understand. Because what attracted them, in the first place, was a sort of chemistry that suffocated them when they looked at each other, something related to lust, not love. But how inevitable to fall in love when he noticed the endless difficulties Levi had to get carried away in every aspect of a relationship. Like a cat mistreated by its owners, by the environment, by other cats, thrown into the dirty streets of the Underground City without tools but full of needs. The survival of the strongest inside the worst scenario, having had to learn to survive punch by punch, loss by loss. How does a stray cat react to the tender caresses of a human?

Attacking to protect itself.

He laughs over Levi's navel: what an easy idea to compare Levi with a cat, but how useful the metaphor despite being a cliché. When it's about him, it works, because the first encounters on this bed were full of urgency, instinct, need over mere enjoyment. He was like a cat; he was scared behind the scars.

How long it took him to show Levi that he didn't have to defend himself from a caress that was full of good intentions.

Kneeling before Levi, Erwin separates his legs with an almost ceremonial slowness. He kisses the inside of the right thigh, just below the knee; Levi shivers when his mouth touches him. The tense body takes its time to relax, the same time that Erwin needs to reach the end of the thighs, where the excitement is already explicit. When Erwin kisses Levi there, when his mouth begins to give him pleasure, Levi stifles a groan as he clenches his teeth. He breathes between those, growls, and his voice becomes throatier between gasps. His legs tremble on each side of Erwin's head, his hands holding on to the sheets with too much strength, one incompatible with the slowness and gentleness that Erwin's mouth expresses.

"Shit!" Erwin hears Levi mumble without air, as if he were holding himself, at the same moment in which a hand passes from the sheet to Erwin's hair, which squeezes in order to ask for more.

Erwin uses his left hand to hold Levi's one, both over his hair. Stroking it with his fingers, urges Levi's hand to calm down, to not to be on the defensive, to not react violently to such a sweet attention.

Rejecting Levi's violence would be like rejecting him himself: it's nonsense. However, they have learned, together, to find pleasure in tenderness, too. For Erwin, it wasn’t that hard; for Levi, was the hardest thing. To learn how to accept love was almost impossible for him.

To learn how to accept that human hand’s caress on this bed has been overwhelming, but beautiful, for both.

That was the key to reach the rest.

Erwin can read the scars thanks to that learning, he knows how to read them, just as he knows how to look between them: they cover, all of them, a unique, special sensibility, that deserves to be protected, yes, but also pleased.

Maybe that's why he deserves to share this bed with Levi, thinks Erwin by accelerating a little, almost imperceptibly, the constant movement of his mouth. Maybe that's why, because at some point of those suffocating first meetings Levi's scars opened wide enough to let him know what it was under the violence.

A warm heart that still knows how to feel.

Despite the punches, the abandonments, the losses, the injustice, Levi's heart has never stopped feeling nor has allowed itself to lose that warmth. And how surprising it would have been for any other person, surely, to find this treasure inside this heart. But not for Erwin, who knew it from the first time in the Underground City, from the first image of Levi flying free through the dark, artificial sky.

Erwin saw this heart full of freedom from the first second, and never hesitated, and never fought to tame him, because doing so would have meant taking away everything that made him unique.

Levi was shaped by violence and he's not good at expressing emotions, but that will never mean he doesn't feel them. Nor does it mean that this heart shouldn’t repress the need of exploring itself through other kinds of emotions, those that are incompatible with the skin that covers it, but that are related to its unlimited capacity to feel.

This heart that beats so hard while Erwin accelerates deserves to have empathy for itself, the same that it always has for everyone else.

That’s why Levi allowed him to read his scars, maybe, because Erwin inspired him enough confidence to open his heart in two. When Erwin remembers himself frustrated, defeated, worried before Levi after a hard expedition full of blood and death, when he remembers Levi encouraging him in the midst of desolation, he understands that yes.

As if it were the most natural thing for them, people who carry different difficulties when it comes to feeling, they have given to each other the right confidence to do so without fear, without regretting. That's why this bed they share far away from the world, which is the complete symbol of what their relationship means, has allowed him to read Levi's scars, because Levi trusts him as much as Erwin does.

Because Levi knows how to read his scars, too.

The mouth stops, but doesn't abandon what it does; Erwin caresses the hand that hasn't stopped tightening his hair when he returns to a slow, leisurely pace, without any urgency. Magically, or not, Levi's hand changes, relaxes, and caresses his hair instead of tightening it, while his voice, when panting, softens. The legs stop trembling, the eyelids fall; Levi has opened his scars, cleared the path to his own feelings.

Only then Erwin accelerates, and intensifies his movements, and gives place to his experience in order to give Levi the pleasure he deserves.

Levi screams, he does it fiercely, the only way he knows how to do it when the heat of enjoyment expands through his body as it explodes between his legs. Then he doesn't do anything else.

Erwin dries his lips and gets up. He takes Levi in ​​his arms, who falls on his chest, and opens the sheets. He puts him to bed, covers him and does the same to his right. He looks at him, and although Levi's eyes express coldness, no: under the pupils, the emotion is extreme.

How stupid to think of feelings as a weakness, Erwin concludes, feeling the emotion in Levi's eyes as an exact reflection of his. The feelings of a warm and free heart that hasn’t lost the desire to beat can be incompatible with violence, but not with strength.

Because that's Levi for Erwin, in this bed and everywhere: he's the strongest person he knows. Not only for being able to kill titans out there, for being that guy of the nicknames that make him so popular or the soldier who inspires all his comrades to not give up.

Levi is the strongest because it's his heart the one who feels the most.

[master-sass-blast]

Strong as Stone: Part Seven, Second Half.

Well, hi there! Welcome to the 7k word update that I wrote in three days!

*groans and collapses into bed* Sometimes, I make smart decisions. Other times... I really don’t.

Last time, we saw Okoye start her vacation with M’Baku. This week’s update shows several snapshots from their time together.

Rating: JUST BARELY NOT M. THIS GOT MORE ADULT-Y THAN I ANTICIPATED, OKAY?

Warnings: Several instances of alluded to sex, innuendos, implicit nudity, one metric fuckton of fluff, a dash of angst, a LOT of kissing, SERIOUSLY SO MANY REFERENCES AND IMPLICATIONS OF SEX, and swearing.

Pairings: Okoye x M’Baku and background Shuri x OC.

@the-last-hair-bender

Stones are unthinking, unfeeling, unbreaking. When you wear your armor, you are a stone. Your only priority is to protect the royal family. You will be vigilant for every threat.

You are a Dora Milaje when you are in that armor. You are the best of the best of the best. Do not forget it.

However, my daughters, you will not always be wearing the armor. There will be days when you will be away, left on your own, free to do as you choose.

Do not be a stone then. Be human. Think and feel as much as you want. Enjoy the vibrancy of life, my dears.

“I wish you could stay longer.”

“You version of ‘longer’ would have me staying forever.”

“Is that really so bad?”

“I’m not ready to retire yet.”

“And when you are?”

Okoye smiled up at M’Baku, giddy and thoroughly smitten. “I know where to find you.”

M’Baku smiled back, then sighed sadly. “I can’t believe eighteen days passed so quickly.”

“I know, my love. I can’t believe it either.”

Eighteen Days Earlier; First Official Day of Vacation.

She came out of sleep slowly, warm and deeply comfortable. Covered in thick blankets and furs, she was cocooned in warmth. Her mind came to clearer focus as the room grew lighter and lighter, and Okoye found herself staring at the face of the man she’d fallen asleep next to.

M’Baku’s eyes were closed, his breathing deep and easy.

Okoye shifted closer to his, studying his peaceful face.

Smooth, dark skin, full lips, chiseled cheekbones and jaw...

Bast help me, he’s so hot.

He’d swept her off her feet during that first fateful night in the palace gardens. Hell, he’d caught her eye when he’d lifted W’Kabi up by his scruff like a naughty kitten during the battle between the Dora Milaje and the Border tribe warriors.

She’d never seen anything like it, not even from T’Challa and his blessing from Bast.

Kind, generous, loving, intelligent, good-looking, funny...

And here I thought the perfect man didn’t exist--

“You’re thinking too loud.”

Okoye realized M’Baku was watching her back and smiled sheepishly. “Did I wake you up?”

“No. I was just teasing you.”

Okoye shivered as M’Baku’s fingertips ran up her bare side. “Do you have anything planned for today?”

“If you’d like, I can show you some of the gardens in the valleys.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“Then it’s settled. Although...” M’Baku flashed her a lust-charged grin as he positioned himself over her. “I’d like to spend a little more time in bed with you first.”

Okoye grinned up at him as she looped her arms around his shoulders. “I think I can agree to that.”

Okoye gaped, awestruck. “I have never seen anything like this.”

She was surrounded by massive, towering trees, thick stands of bushes and vines, and thousands upon thousands of brightly colored flowers.

She let out a small laugh. “It really is better than any other gardens I’ve ever seen. Even at the palace.”

M’Baku smiled proudly. “What did I tell you?”

She turned around slowly, drinking everything in. “Is this where you harvest the plants you make your medicines out of? I overheard Dewani and Shuri arguing about natural versus synthetic treatments, and your sister said you grew everything the people could need in the gardens.”

“No, no,” M’Baku said with a laugh. He clasped her shoulder and pointed up. “Monkey shit doesn’t make for a good additive.”

Okoye looked up, saw several furry faces staring down at her, and smiled bashfully. “I never said I was a botanist. Or a chemist.”

“We have gardens that we keep in more controlled conditions to grow our medicine from. This--” M’Baku swept his arm our grandly, gesturing at the unmarred lushness surrounding them “--is a blessing from Hanuman. A refuge against the cold and snow.”

“Such a beautiful blessing,” Okoye said.

“Yes.” M’Baku kissed her cheek. “Something the two of you have in common.”

Day Three of Vacation.

“Can I ask a question?”

“Sure.”

Okoye pointed at the wall length window in M’Baku’s bedroom with her spoon. “What’s with all the big windows? I asked Dewani, and she said it was a tribe-wide voyeurism kink.”

M’Baku ran his hand over his face. “I promise, I love my sister, but there are times where I think Hanuman just sent her to me to test my patience.”

Okoye suppressed a smile as she dug back in to her bowl of yogurt, granola, and fruit. “I’m sure the King thinks the same of the Princess at times. So, is it a voyeurism kink, or is there a more spiritual reason for it?”

M’Baku gave her a fake annoyed look as she started snickering. “It is not a voyeurism kink, thank you. We believe in being as in touch with the earth as we can be. If we surround ourselves with thick walls and curtains, we can’t see the earth. How can we be in touch with something we can’t see?”

“Okay, but don’t you ever worry about having your privacy violated?”

“You’ll noted that the window is located such that it isn’t in the line of sight of any other buildings or bridges.”

That would do it. Okoye ate another spoonful of yogurt. “So, what are we doing today?”

M’Baku grinned. “I’m so glad you asked.”

Okoye smiled as children darted past her, caught up in a game of tag. “I can see why you like it here.”

They were strolling through an open air market, between rows of stalls and vendor carts. Shoppers ambled back and forth, chatting and haggling over princes, while children scampered about freely. The smells of roasting potatoes, fresh fruits, and baking bread permeated the cool air.

“A Chief must be among his people,” M’Baku said, pride evident in his voice as he surveyed the crowd. “He must know them, know their struggles in order to serve them well. My father focused on taking his proper role in festivals and celebrations, but I prefer a more direct approach.” He stopped at a booth, handed a few coins to the vendor, and came back with two forks and two cups of potatoes, steaming vegetables, and cheese. “Try this. It’s a common side dish among the villages up here.”

Okoye stabbed some cheese, potatoes, and green onto her fork and fed it into her mouth. A swirl of flavors --dairy from the cheese and butter, bitter from the greens, salt from the potatoes, and hints of spice and garlic--exploded over her tongue. “I need to try making this for myself. What’s all in it?”

“Greens, potatoes, goat’s cheese, goat’s butter, salt, and spices to taste. It’s common for each household to have a slightly different recipe.”

“That’s cool. It’s like a fingerprint. You could know who made it by the taste.”

“Theoretically, yes.”

Okoye smiled as few children came up to M’Baku and talked to him. “You seem to know everyone here,” she said when the kids ran off.

“A Chief must know his people.”

Okoye was quiet for a moment, simply content to take in the sights and sounds of the market. She watched a group of girls chase each other, weaving through the crowds. I remember being that age. “Do you know what I love most about being a Dora Milaje warrior?”

“The spear?”

Okoye laughed. “No, but that is a plus. When I accompany the King into the city, I get stopped by a lot of little girls. They ask to take a picture with me, or for my autograph. They tell me they want to be just like me when they grow up.” She beamed at M’Baku. “That’s my favorite part.”

M’Baku beamed back. “Empowering a new generation. I can’t think of anything more fitting.” He slid his arm around her waist. “Sometime, I’ll have to take a vacation in Birnin Zana. You can show me all the sights down there.”

“I’d love to.” She smirked up at him. “Although, we’d have to be quieter in my apartment than we were last night. The walls are only so thick.”

“I’m sure I’ll manage to rise to the needs of the occasion.”

Day Five of Vacation.

Okoye sat in the library, casually reading through a murder mystery book. M’Baku was in a meeting with his council, and she’d set about on entertaining himself while she was busy. She ran the tips of her fingers over the smooth, white paper.

Physical books weren’t common in the rest of Wakanda. Sure, each tribe had their traditional texts, carefully stored away and preserved, and there were some that kept physical books for their own fun, but everything was largely run through the kimoyo beads and databases. It was more efficient that way, less wasteful.

The Jabari, as everyone knew, had shunned vibranium-based technology all those centuries ago, when the first King had brought the other tribes to peace. They’d retreated into the mountains, made a future for themselves without the aid of vibranium, and stayed clear of the other tribes in the lower lands.

Okoye looked out the window at one of the massive bridges that spanned the canyon running through the Jabari territory. It’s hard to believe that they managed to make those without vibranium. It would be impossible to span that canyon multiple times over, weave everything in place.

“Hi, Okoye.”

Okoye looked up and smiled as Dewani walked into the library. “Hi. How are you?”

“Good.” Dewani sat down next to her on the couch and rested her head on Okoye’s shoulder. “Can I ask you a question?”

Okoye set the book down on her lap. “Sure.”

“Shuri’s birthday is coming up soon...” Dewani’s voice trailed off. Her face creased into a frown. “What do you get for the girl who can make anything she could ever want?”

It was a good question. Okoye had watched T’Challa throw his hands into the air for several years when he had to grapple with finding a decent gift for his sister’s birthday.

Let’s see, the King normally gets her shoes, clothes, handbags, accessories... “She really likes fashion,” Okoye suggested. “I’m sure the King could help you pick out something. Or Lady Nakia.”

Dewani scrunched up her face. “Let’s keep that as our last option. I’d like it to be more personal than that.”

“You could bring her up here. I’m sure she’d love to spend time with you.”

“Eh, I’d need more time to plan that and persuade M’Baku. Plus, it’d probably be easier to sway T’Challa and the Queen Mother once Shuri and I are older, you know?”

Okoye nodded. “Wise thinking.” She tapped her fingers against the back cover of the book, mulling over various ideas. “You could make her something.”

“Really? You think she’d like that?”

Okoye smiled fondly at the younger woman. “I think that the Princess would love to have something you made for her.”

Dewani stared into the fireplace, thought evident in her expression. “I think I might have something I can put together for her. Does she like poetry?”

“I think she’d love it if you wrote it for her.” Okoye looked down at the book in her lap, smoothing her fingers over the hand-bound leather cover. For generations, the rest of Wakanda has thought of the Jabari as staunch isolationists, technology-fearing warriors, even the boogey-men under the bed. How wrong we were. Okoye frowned contemplatively as she looked down at the book, glanced out the window at the bridge, then looked at Dewani. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“What does technology look like to the Jabari? Clearly, you have something if you managed to make those bridges.”

Dewani grinned at her. “Come on. I’ll show you.”

The building Dewani had taken her to was set between two mountains, propped up on twisted steel beams that mimicked the designs on the bridges. It was styled similarly to the rest of the buildings she’d seen so far --oblong, layered in steps, with massive windows and skylights wherever possible.

Thick wool rugs dyed in shades of blue and green covered the floors, insulating their steps. Decorations made out of Jabari wood dotted the halls. There was at least one plant on each available surface.

“I can’t show you the actual labs off the cuff, but I can show you our head agricultural facility. This is where we review most of our research and perform minor studies. Major studies --modifying crops for higher yields or hardiness, developing responses to blights, studying the effects of different soil modifications--are conducted by the labs.”

They stopped at a balcony that overlooked the rest of the facility. Offices with glass walls and wooden doors lined the edges of the building. The center was a completely open hallway dotted with couches and tables, stopped at the end by am impressive two-story window. Jabari scientists --some dressed in traditional leathers and furs, others in regular clothes--mingled together in the center before breaking off into their respective work spaces.

“Why are some of them wearing leathers while some of them don’t?” Okoye asked.

“Preference. We do have a solid wool industry up here, and you’ll find that most people wear linen in the summer months. Leather has the advantage of being water proof-able, so most people layer linen and wool underneath. Trust me, if you’re caught in a freak snowstorm, you’ll want to wear leather to avoid getting soaked.”

“Wouldn’t that rot the leather?”

“Not if you dry it well enough.”

Okoye leaned against the railing as she watched a group of women walk together, dressed in vibrantly colored linen and wool dresses. “I’ve only ever seen the Jabari in leather and fur. I guess it never occurred to me that you’d have other clothing industries.”

Dewani shrugged. “I keep telling M’Baku that he’d be more comfortable in linens when we travel to the palace, but I think he likes the impression the leathers give.”

Okoye agreed internally. There are advantages to dressing the part. “How do you dye the clothes?”

“Traditional pieces are still dyed using flowers and minerals, but most of the dyes are synthetic.”

Okoye raised an eyebrow. “Synthetic? I thought that would be akin to blasphemy to the Jabari.”

“Well, we can either tear apart the valleys to produce enough dye, or we can make synthetic dyes and keep the blessings from Hanuman intact.”

“Okay, I should’ve seen that coming.”

Dewani looped her arms around one of Okoye’s and leaned her head against the older woman’s shoulder. “I’m glad you and my brother are seeing each other. He’s been happier since you came into his life.”

Okoye smiled. “I���ve been happier since he came into my life. He’s a remarkable man.”

“Yeah,” Dewani agreed quietly. “He kind of had to stop dating when he adopted me. I was in really rough shape back then, and most of the other women didn’t want to share so much time with a strange, nervous halfer.” She let out a laugh that sounded more like an annoyed huff. “Nothing kills the mood like your lover having to leave because his sister had another nightmare.”

Okoye slid her arm out of Dewani’s grasp so that she could wrap it around the girl’s shoulders. “Your brother loves you. There’s no shame in that.”

Dewani picked at the edge of her gauntlet. “He’s done a lot for me. Sacrificed a lot for me. I want him to be happy.” She peered up at Okoye. “He said you didn’t mind me being around.”

“Why would I?”

Dewani stared down at her hands, almost shrinking in on herself. “I’m just used to being a deal-breaker, is all.”

Okoye squeezed Dewani’s shoulders in a half hug. “You’re not a deal breaker. Not to me.”

“Thanks.” Dewani didn’t speak for a moment, then, in a voice so quiet Okoye almost missed it, said “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to live up to who he is.”

Okoye frowned. “What do you mean?”

“My brother is the greatest man there ever was. He’s been more than a father to me for the past two years. He’s a great Chief, a strong warrior, an adviser to the King... I don’t know how I can live up to all that.”

“I don’t think he expects you to live up to his legacy. He wants you to be yourself.”

“I know, but I just want him to be proud of me!”

“He already is.” Okoye rubbed her hand up and down Dewani’s back. “I’m going to tell you a secret, okay? Your brother and I talked during our second night in London. He was worried that everything would fall apart.”

Dewani frowned. “Really? He told me that everything was fine, and that you’d assassinate anyone who stood against us.”

Okoye snorted inelegantly. “The thought may have crossed my mind, but I think he said all that to reassure you. The point is, I told him that if you and the King couldn’t persuade the security council, then no one could. Do you know what he said?”

“He asked you if the back up plan was to have you and the other Milaje assassinate everyone?”

“He smiled and agreed that you were one of the most remarkable speakers in Wakanda and a remarkable young woman. He got teary-eyed when telling the King and I how much progress you’ve made in the past two years because he’s that proud of you.” Okoye tucked a few loose curls of hair behind Dewani’s ear. “Your brother is already so proud of you. I’d venture to say that he’d be heartbroken to hear how little you think of yourself.”

Dewani laughed. “He’s a big softie, isn’t he?”

Okoye nodded. “More than he admits.”

“There you two are.”

Okoye turned around and smiled as she saw M’Baku walking towards them, flanked by his Primes.

Dewani grinned, carefully hiding any traces of sadness, and ran towards her brother. “We were just talking about you.”

“Nothing devious, I hope.” M’Baku caught his sister in a hug and kissed the top of her head. “What have you been up to?”

“Okoye wanted to see what our version of technology was like. I figured I’d show her the agricultural facility.”

“I see. And what do you think of our technology, my love?”

“Remarkable,” Okoye said as M’Baku kissed her on the cheek. “I think Princess Shuri will definitely want to see this when she comes up here.”

“I figured as much.” M’Baku leaned down and kissed her gently. “I’m done for the day. How does returning to the main lodge sound?”

Okoye grinned as she looped her arms over his broad shoulders. “Enticing.”

Off to the side, Dewani started fake retching. “Oh, gross! Do you two have to do this while I’m standing next to you?”

M’Baku shot a devious look at his sister, then spun Okoye into an elaborate dip and kissed her passionately.

Dewani stormed off down the hall. “That’s it! I’m leaving! You two can walk back to the main lodge!”

Day Seven of Vacation.

She woke up to M’Baku trailing kisses up her spine. Okoye trembled as a shiver ran down the length of her spine, landing solidly in her core. “You’re up to no good, I can tell.”

“You just looked particularly beautiful this morning,” M’Baku murmured huskily.

“And here I thought I looked beautiful every morning.”

“You do, but you were overwhelmingly enticing this morning.”

Okoye let out a soft moan as he nipped at her shoulder. She rolled onto her back and pulled M’Baku down for a lust-charged kiss. “Do you have any plans for today?”

“Nothing official. Is there something you had a mind to?”

“Yes.” Okoye flipped M’Baku onto his back and straddled his hips. “I want to spend the entire day with you, in this bed.”

M’Baku grinned, eyes wide, as he ran his hands over her body. “Now, that’s an idea I can get behind.”

Day Ten of Vacation.

The thick, humid heat was such a sharp contrast to the crisp, cold of the mountains that it was almost overwhelming.

They were underground cavern system that was connected to the lodge. The walls were covered with vines that grew bio-luminescent flowers. A steaming pool of water sat in a naturally occurring alcove, off the main path. The walls of the pool were lined with the same minerals that made the flowers glow, causing the water to give off a soft blue light. Candles were tucked into the corners of the alcove, chasing away the remaining darkness and giving the space a soft, cozy feeling.

“What do you think?” M’Baku murmured, his lips brushing against her cheek.

“It’s beautiful. Warm. Very warm.” Okoye watched as M’Baku pulled a few towels and two robes out of a wooden chest. “My love?”

“Yes?”

“I didn’t bring a swim suit.”

M’Baku grinned at her as he started undoing his tunic. “Neither did I.”

Okoye rolled her eyes, amused in spite of herself. “So, that’s how this works?”

M’Baku shrugged as he set his tunic off to the side, clearly pleased with himself. “Why not?”

Okoye smiled softly, then turned around and started changing out of her blouse and pants. She heard tsplashing as M’Baku stepped into the pool. She carefully folded her clothes and set them on top of the chest.

“Are you folding your clothes?”

“So what if I am?” Okoye asked as she set her underwear next to her clothes. She turned around and saw that M’Baku was watching her. “Like what you see?”

“Always.” He held out a hand to her. “Come join me, my love.”

Okoye took his hand and slipped into the pool.

The water was warm and deeply soothing, chasing away the few lingering aches in her back and legs.

Okoye let out a contented hum as she nestled against M’Baku’s chest. “This would’ve been nice to have after the battle.”

M’Baku kissed the top of her head as he wrapped his arms around her. “Well, if I’d had half the sense to approach you sooner, maybe you would have.”

Okoye shook her head. “I was still dealing with W’Kabi’s betrayal.”

M’Baku let out a huff. “He was an idiot. Is an idiot.”

“He wanted justice for his parents’ deaths,” Okoye said quietly.

M’Baku was still for a moment. Then, he placed a small, gentle kiss against her head. “I want justice for my sister’s abuse,” he murmured. “You don’t see me waging a warpath against my uncle and his family for it.”

“I’m not saying he was right.”

“I know. I’m saying I understand his pain, but his pain doesn’t justify what he did. Especially to you.”

“You’re biased.”

“And very happy to be so.” M’Baku pressed his fingers under her chin, tilting her head up so he could see her face. “Enough talk about the traitor. He doesn’t deserve the time or breath.”

Okoye deliberately avoided his gaze. “We were together for four years. He was a good partner. I watched him deal with the void of his parents’ death every day.”

M’Baku rubbed his thumb over her cheek. “I know he made a mistake, my love. I understand why he made the mistake he did. But his loss, his pain, doesn’t justify the lives that were lost in the process. It doesn’t justify the way he hurt you.”

Okoye closed her eyes as she pressed his forehead against M’Baku firm chest. “I wish I didn’t understand it. I wish there wasn’t anything behind what he did that made his choice sympathy inducing. I wish it was just a selfish, spur of the moment decision.”

“Easier to process,” M’Baku murmured as he rubbed her back. “It’s understandable.”

“It’s wrong of me.”

“You’re human, not a god. Don’t hold yourself to a higher standard than you would hold him to.”

Okoye stared at the tattoos that curled around M’Baku’s bicep. “I could’ve killed N’Jadaka. Right then and there, at the falls. No one would’ve stopped me. No one.”

M’Baku let out a heavy sigh. “I could’ve adopted Dewani a year earlier.”

Okoye looked up at him, frowning. “I don’t follow your meaning.”

M’Baku leaned back against the wall of the pool, expression solemn. “I... suspected that my uncle’s treatment of Dewani wasn’t completely appropriate when I saw her at her thirteenth birthday. I was a new Chief, exhausted, and it was the first time I’d seen her in two years. I talked myself out of it. A year later, one of the neighbors of my uncle came to me with pictures of Dewani. She was bruised, bleeding, and miserable. They claimed that my uncle had been beating her.”

“What did your uncle say?”

“He confirmed it when he outed her in an argument. I took Dewani home with me that night.” He grimaced. “Sometimes, we don’t always follow our instincts. Sometimes, not following our instincts bites us in the ass. What’s most important is that we do the best we can and ask forgiveness where we need to.”

Okoye smiled gently at him. “I can see where Dewani gets her philosophic side from.”

M’Baku chuckled. “She’s better at it than I am. More patient.”

Okoye laid her head on his shoulder. He’s right, Okoye thought. W’Kabi made a mistake. He was grieving and angry, and he made a mistake. He doesn’t deserve any more of your brain power. Let it go, Okoye. She inhaled deeply, and let the thoughts about W’Kabi float from her mind. She lifted her hand and placed it against M’Baku’s chest. “I love you.”

M’Baku shifted back and grinned down at her. “Really?”

Okoye grinned back. “Of course. Why else would I call you ‘my love?’”

M’Baku leaned down and captured her lips with his. “I love you, too.”

Okoye looped her arms around his neck, pulling herself closer as their lips moved in tandem.

Day Thirteen of Vacation.

“Well, don’t you look comfortable.”

Okoye looked up from where she had settled on the couch in the library. She was seated in front of the fire place and had a thick fur laid over her lap. A cup of steaming tea sat on the table next to the couch, and a stack of books were set on the floor in front of her. “That’s the idea, isn’t it?”

M’Baku grinned down at her, a box in one hand. “I suppose.”

Okoye went back to her book, then looked up when she realized that M’Baku was watching her, unmoving. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes. I’m just taking it all in. Something about this...” He gestured at her and where she was sitting. “It just seems very right to me.”

Okoye chuckled and shifted her legs so that M’Baku could sit next to her. “Does it now?”

“Yes.” M’Baku kissed her cheek. “It does. Although, I’ll admit I didn’t take you for a reader.”

“I like reading. I just don’t get much time to do it.”

“I guess I saw you as the kind of person who would be out running, hiking, and the like,” M’Baku said as he sat down next to her. “Do you still want to go to the Spring Festival tonight?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

M’Baku shrugged. “Just thought I’d check. Oh, that reminds me.” He handed her the box. “This is for you.”

Okoye feigned suspicion as she opened the box, the gasped when she caught sight of a beautiful hooded fur shawl. “M’Baku! It’s beautiful!”

M’Baku kissed her gently. “Beautiful clothes for a beautiful woman.”

Okoye slid the shawl on, reveling at how soft and warm the fur was. “Thank you. You didn’t have to.”

“Nonsense. It suits you.”

Okoye set the box aside and clambered into M’Baku’s lap. “Still, I’d like to repay your kindness.”

M’Baku grinned up at her, hands clasping her hips. “What do you have a mind to?”

“Well, we have a few hours before the festival starts, right?”

M’Baku kissed her jaw, picked her up, and started carrying her out of the library. “I like your way of thinking.”

The main square in the Jabari village was filled with people. Children made sculptures out of the snow and chased each other while the teenagers and adults danced and sang, heralding in the new Spring. Fireworks lit up the air with bursts of gold, blue, and green.

Okoye smiled as she watched Dewani dance with a group of girls. This is amazing. Like Wakanda during the Harvest Moon and Spring Rain festivals. She turned around when she felt something nudge her shoulder.

M’Baku handed her a bowl full of what looked like ice cream and a spoon. “Try this.”

Okoye took the bowl, loaded up her spoon, and stuck it in her mouth.

It was the creamiest, lightest ice cream she’d ever had. The taste of mango exploded over her tongue, beautifully sweet and just a touch tangy.

“This is incredible. I didn’t think you could grow mangoes this high up.”

“We grow them in the lowest parts of the valley and in the hot water spring caverns. We don’t get very many of them, so we save the harvest for our celebrations.”

Okoye scooped another spoonful into her mouth. “I didn’t think mangoes were indigenous to Wakanda.”

“They’re not. A few chiefs ago, the King of the time came to visit the Jabari to settle some border disputes between us and the miners. He brought some gifts as part of a peace offering, and some of them were mangoes that they’d found in East Africa. The Chief of the time liked them, to which the King laughed and said they were a fickle fruit, impossible to grow even with vibranium technology, and --well--that was a challenge the Chief couldn’t resist.”

Okoye lifted her bowl in a toast. “To the stubbornness of the Jabari, and to the best ice cream I’ve ever had.”

M’Baku touched his bowl to hers. “The best, eh?”

Okoye nodded and ate another spoonful. “I would’ve thought that if the Chief liked them so much he’d grow a whole forest of them.”

M’Baku shrugged. “They’re not very tolerant of the cold, mangoes. They do alright in the underground spots, but then we have the problem of space. Better to grow a few well than grow many poorly, especially since they’re not a necessity.”

“I’m sure it makes for special memories for the kids. I remember having chocolate during the festivals in Birnin Zana. The vendors handed the ‘ugly’ pieces to the kids for free.” She chuckled at the memories. “One night, I ate so much that I made myself sick.”

M’Baku chuckled with her. “Not a half bad way to get sick, though.”

“I disagree. Chocolate does not taste nearly as good the second time around.”

M’Baku winced as he laughed. “I’ll agree to that.”

Okoye walked with M’Baku through the square, extremely conscious of the looks they --she--was getting for the rest of the Jabari. “I can’t help but feel that I stick out here.”

M’Baku took her hand in his. “Any outsider would stick out up here.”

“Yes, but not any outsider would walk hand in hand with the Chief. And not any outsider would come to a festival.”

M’Baku kissed her temple. “You’re overthinking things.”

Okoye gave him a serious look. “And what happens when your uncle catches wind of my visits to the Jabari land?”

“Then he can go fuck himself.”

“My Chief!” A tall man with dreads, dressed in the usual leathers and furs, walked up to M’Baku, smiling broadly.

M’Baku grinned back and let go of Okoye’s hand long enough to pull the man into a hug. “My love, this is my friend O’Chenga. He’s the leader of the river villages in our territory. O’Chenga, this is--”

“General Okoye of the Dora Milaje, we know.” O’Chenga smiled at her. “Dewani’s been making introductions through the crowd. She said that you’re the best warrior in all of Wakanda and --to quote her-- ‘yes, I’m including my brother, don’t be stupid.’”

M’Baku rolled his eyes. “She lives to annoy me.”

“Relax, she only said that to me.”

“What else did she say?” Okoye asked.

O’Chenga’s mood turned more serious. “She said that you stopped F’Tendi dead in his tracks and leveled a spear at him. That you helped her through a panic attack during the Harvest Moon festival.”

“She’s a remarkable young woman. What she’s gone through at the hands of her uncle is tragic.”

“Yeah, she is.” O’Chenga grinned at Okoye. “So, what’s someone like you doing with a doofus like this?”

“Really? This? This is how you treat your Chief?”

“No, this is how I treat my best friend of twenty years.”

Okoye smirked at the two’s antics. “He makes me laugh.”

O’Chenga flashed a snarky grin at M’Baku. “Why is it every girl you’ve ever been with says that first?”

“Because I have a fantastic sense of humor and don’t go after shallow girls.”

“Brother, the only way you get girls is if you go after the deep ones. Don’t play with me.”

M’Baku swatted playfully at O’Chenga. “Enough of you, disrespecting me!”

Okoye shook her head, chuckling. “You two are ridiculous.”

“Don’t let this guy fool you,” O’Chenga said, pointing at M’Baku. “He plays tough, but he’s really just a big marshmallow.”

Okoye smiled softly up at M’Baku and took his hand hers. “That’s the impression I got.”

O’Chenga nodded, grinning. “Smart woman. You’ll need that with him. Nice meeting you.”

“And you.”

M’Baku kissed her cheek as O’Chenga strode away from them. “Ignore him. He’s full of shit.”

“Oh, so I’m not a smart woman?”

M’Baku rolled his eyes she laughed. “You’re as bad as he is.”

“Isn’t that why you like me?”

M’Baku smiled down at her softly. “Yeah.”

Okoye smiled back and let her eyelids flutter shut as M’Baku leaned down and kissed her.

He tasted like mangoes.

Day Fifteen of Vacation.

Okoye sucked in a breath as she felt M’Baku’s lips press against hers. “I’m starting to think you like waking me with kisses.”

“You’d be correct in that assumption.” M’Baku let out a contented hum and pulled her against his chest. “I have some meetings today, but I have something planned for tonight. Something special.”

“Mm, and what’s that?” Okoye asked as she pressed sleepy kisses against his skin.

“How’d you like to have dinner with me?”

“We’ve been having dinner together each night I’ve been here.”

“I meant something special. We’re almost at the end of your time here.”

“I’ve got a few more days left.”

“I know, but I already have plans for those days.”

“Anything good?”

“Most of them involve this room, especially this bed.”

“Sounds like fun.” Okoye tilted her head up so she could see his face. “If you want to dinner tonight, that’s fine. I’ll make sure I dress for the occasion.”

She took her time getting ready. She showered a couple hours before the dinner was set, tied a robe around her waist when she was done, and started the process of doing her make up.

Make up, for a long time, had been a deep source of comfort to her. She didn’t come from much, had spent a lot of time on the streets of Birnin Zana, a lot of time with nothing to her name. As a young recruit of the Dora Milaje, learning to apply and use make up had been a way to distance herself from her meager past. A way to make herself look glamorous and wealthy, even when she was hoarding paychecks so she could find her own place.

Okoye hummed some pop song Shuri was always playing in her lab as she started putting on her foundation, blending the edges seamlessly around her ears, neck, and scalp tattoos.

Her mind flashed back to the day of the explosion.

She was younger than W’Kabi by a bit, so she didn’t remember much more than a loud bang and a flash of fire. By the end of it, she’d lost her parents and everything they’d had. 

Unfortunately, unlike W’Kabi, she hadn’t had any extended family to take her in. While Wakanda’s child care system was good, it hadn’t been as strong back then. She’d slipped through the cracks and taken to the streets of Birnin Zana with a few other kids.

Okoye hummed along with the music on her kimoyo beads as she started working on her eyeshadow.

She’d been running the streets with her group when they’d spotted a wealthy couple walking through the market. She hadn’t seen the Dora Milaje guards and assumed it was an easy target.

Admittedly, she managed to lift King T’Chaka’s wallet before one of the guards had caught her, which was pretty impressive in and of itself.

Okoye braced herself against the sink and started working on her eyeliner with an expert hand.

Back then, she’d thanked Bast from tails to whiskers that the King had only smiled at her, complimented her on her skills, and suggested that they put her in the Dora Milaje program where her skills ‘would be in safer hands.’

She hadn’t thought anything of it since then, too grateful for the three free meals every day, consistent place to sleep and bathe, and place to sleep each night. To grateful for the job, the purpose in life, the benefits that came with being a Dora Milaje soldier.

No, she hadn’t thought anything of it since then, but now...

Okoye paused and checked to make sure the wings on her eyeliner were even. Satisfied with her work, she dug through her makeup bag for her contour and highlight pans.

Back then, she would’ve been about T’Challa’s age.

About N’Jadaka’s age.

It would’ve been past the day that T’Chaka had killed N’Jobu.

Perhaps the King had seen a child close to his son’s age, close to the age of the nephew he had abandoned, and tried to provide for her out of a sense of transferred guilt.

Perhaps he knew her from the files on the explosion caused by Klaue, knew that he hadn’t been able to recover all of the vibranium gathered up by N’Jobu, and blamed himself for what had happened to her.

Perhaps...

Perhaps a lot of things, Okoye thought as she carefully applied her favorite red lipstick. She rubbed her lips together to spread the product around, then popped them with a smack. Perhaps he took you under his wing to ease his conscience. Perhaps he did it because he was a generous, big-hearted man. You’ll never know for sure, so there’s no sense in thinking in circles about it. Satisfied with her make up, she walked out of the bathroom.

Her dress --the black one she wore when she was acting as security for trips outside of Wakanda--was laid out on M’Baku’s bed, along with her favorite pair of black pumps and the nicest set of lingerie she owned.

When she’d been packing her bags, she’d debated over bringing them at all. Now, with a surprise dinner on the books, she was glad she had.

She took her time getting dressed, relishing the fact that she was having what promised to be a very nice dinner with M’Baku and that he had no idea what she was about to spring on him.

She had just finished zipping up her dress when there was a knock on the door. “Come in.”

The door swung open and Dewani popped her head in. “Dang, you look nice.”

Okoye smiled at her as she put her shoes on. “Thanks. I take it dinner’s ready.”

“Yupp. M’Baku asked me to come get you. He might just faint when he sees you, though.”

“That’s the idea.” She followed Dewani down the hall and to the right. “He’s in the library?”

“He says you like this spot. He wanted to do things here.” Dewani stopped and motioned to the open door. “This is where I stop. Go have fun being gross with my brother.”

Okoye rolled her eyes good naturedly and hugged Dewani quickly. “It’s been good seeing you.”

Dewani wrapped her arms around her waist before she stepped back. “It’s been good seeing you too. I wish you could stay. M’Baku gets super mopey when you’re not around.”

Okoye chuckled. “It’ll only be for a few weeks, just until the next council meeting.”

“Yeah, but I’m the one that has to take care of his mopey ass until then.” Dewani started walking down the hall. “Goodnight, Okoye.”

“Goodnight.” Okoye took a minute to straighten her dress, then opened the door to the library.

M’Baku was standing at the window, watching the sun set. “I was beginning to think you weren’t going to come in.”

“I was just saying goodnight to your sister.”

M’Baku turned around, an easy smile on his face, but his expression snapped as soon as he saw her. “What are you wearing?”

Okoye smirked as she walked towards him slowly. “I thought you liked this dress.”

“I do,” M’Baku growled as he closed the distance between them in seconds. “I really do.”

Okoye sucked in a breath as M’Baku pulled her into his embrace and kissed her. Hard. She let him have his way for a few minutes before she broke away, pushing at his chest with her index finger. “I believe you promised me dinner first?”

“Temptress,” M’Baku hissed in her ear, hands tight on her waist.

Okoye rolled up on her toes, aided by her heels, and whispered, “You don’t know the half of it.”

Okoye sighed contentedly as she set down her bowl. “I’ll admit, vegetarian dishes are starting to grow on me.”

“That’s because we do it properly. I’ve seen what your place has to offer --soy this and tofu that. Nasty.”

They were seated in front of the fireplace, on a soft linen blanket and thick cushions. M’Baku had served her dish after dish of Jabari staples, showing off the best food the tribe had to offer. Not one salad or cut of plain tofu in sight.

M’Baku leaned over and kissed her. “Let me get dessert.”

Okoye watched him, sipping at a glass of wine. “And here I thought you’d say that I was dessert.”

M’Baku shot her an impassioned look. “Would you like to be dessert?”

Okoye smirked back at him. “I’d like to have whatever you have in those bowls.”

M’Baku shook his head, laughing as he carried the bowls over and sat down next to her. “I should’ve known you’d be trouble.”

“Yes, you should have.” Okoye grinned when she saw the bowls were full of mango ice cream. “I thought you only had this during festivals.”

“There’s always a little left over.”

Okoye loaded up her spoon. “Lucky me.”

M’Baku smiled at her before he filled his own spoon. “I’m going to miss you.”

“I’m going to miss you, too.”

M’Baku nudged her shoulder. “So, when do I get to come and visit you?”

Okoye tapped her spoon against her bowl as she mulled the idea over. “Wakanda’s New Year will be coming in a month. The main workers get mandatory time off for that. How about then?”

“I’ll check my schedule. I’d need to find a place for Dewani to stay.”

“I’m sure you could twist the Princess’s arm into letting her stay at the palace.”

“I’m not worried about the Princess. I’m worried about the King and Queen Mother.”

“You’ve seen the Princess when she puts her mind to something. Do you think she’ll be stoppable once you put the idea in her head?”

M’Baku chuckled and pointed his spoon at her. “You’re devious.”

“You have to be to survive working on the Dora Milaje. Just a little.”

M’Baku shook his head and kissed her shoulder. “I love you so much.”

Okoye beamed at him. “I love you too.” She set her bowl on the blanket. “And, as it happens, I’m done with my dessert.”

M’Baku expression went from love struck to ravenous within a heartbeat. “Are you?”

“Yes... although, I’d like a different seat before we get started.”

M’Baku raised an eyebrow. “Where’d you like to sit?”

Okoye ran her thumb over his bottom lip. “Is this spot taken?”

M’Baku let out a growl and surged forward to capture her lips with his. “It’s always open for you.”

Okoye let out a breathy laugh as M’Baku nipped and licked his way down her neck, then gripped his shoulders as he stood, taking her into his arms. “Are we going somewhere?”

“As much as I want you right here, right now, Dewani would kill me if she found out I fucked you in here.”

Okoye smirked as M’Baku carried out of the library. “Well, can’t have that, can we?”

Present Time.

M’Baku pressed his forehead against hers. “Promise you’ll stay in touch?”

Okoye gave him a confused smile. “Why wouldn’t I be?” She let out a startled laugh when she realized he had tears in his eyes. “Your sister wasn’t kidding; you do get mopey --my love,” she placed her hands on his cheeks, “it won’t be forever. Here.” She pulled a kimoyo bead off her wrist and held it out to M’Baku. “We can talk through this. You’ll be able to see me, hear me--”

“But it won’t be you,” M’Baku said as he pocketed the bead. “Just an image.”

Okoye hugged him tightly. “And, when you come down for the preparations for the New Year, it won’t be an image. It’ll be me.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were itching to leave.”

“I would never be --M’Baku, what has you like this? Why are you so upset?”

M’Baku gazed down at her sadly. “I’ve had the privilege of waking up next to you for eighteen days... and I really want that I to be every day, from here on out.”

“Well, I can’t promise for ‘here.’ As for ‘on out,’ I do have to step down from the position of General eventually. The job’s highly physical; I’ll age out of it. Once that passes... I don’t see why you waking up next to me can’t be every day.”

M’Baku stared at her, awestruck. “Are... are you serious?”

Okoye smiled softly at him. “Obviously, we’ll have to revisit it then, make sure it’s still what we both want, but... yes. I’m serious.”

M’Baku drew in a shaky breath, then leaned down and kissed her passionately. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

M’Baku sighed heavily, kissed her one last time, and stepped back, letting her go. “When will I hear from you next?”

“I’ll call you in two days. Dinner time.” She kissed him one last time, then --reluctantly--stepped onto her ship.

It was a couple hours back to Birnin Zana, and she wasn’t making things move faster by lingering here.

Ayo greeted her on the landing platform outside the palace, dressed in regular clothes. “General.”

Okoye nodded back. “Commander.”

Ayo smirked --as much as she smirked. “I’m surprised to see you can walk.”

Okoye narrowed her eyes at her friend. “Just what are you implying, Commander?”

“Nothing that didn’t happen, General.”

Okoye snorted and slung her arms over Ayo’s shoulders. “It was hard to leave,” she admitted.

Ayo was quiet for a moment, then slid her arm around Okoye’s waist. “That’s a good sign.”

Okoye sighed. “I know. Doesn’t make it any easier.”

“We missed you here.”

“I missed you all, too.” Okoye walked with Ayo into the palace, trying not to mourn.

It was time to become a stone again.

[eldritchesrpg]

Name: Tomas Whitney ✖ Age: 26 ✖ Occupation: N/A ✖ Flexibility: Inflexible ✖ Plot: And Home Before Dark ✖ Status: Open ✖ FC: John Boyega

what goes up / ghost around — haunted, beyoncé

personality

❝ He’s a newcomer so we’re still sussing out his personality, but this is what we know of him so far: he’s brave, he’s good. Tomas has a knight’s honor, faithful to the end, even to people that don’t deserve his loyalty. He’s hungry for the good in people, and he’ll look past the worst of flaws to see it. The golden rule seems to be built into Tomas — do unto others, and he does this without fail. He’s foolish at times, and naive, and sometimes just plain stupid. He runs headlong into danger, thinking with his gut and not his head. But and still, he has a spirituality about him that makes you believe that this impulsivity is not impulsiveness at all. Like, it’s more akin to intuition, something in him sounding off and alerting him to protect, fight. Without question, Tomas is one of those people that are fences. He is a sentinel, a guard against fear. There is strength in him, stronger than any strong man. It’s the strength of a protector. He is willing to die for anyone one of us; could you say the same? ❞

❝ You can call it spirituality, but there’s something wrong with Tomas. It isn’t just being new or having not found a place in our community. He’s a jump behind quirky, too haunted to be taken seriously by most. With some Tomas can be coy and sharp in conversation, but with others he is strange, stilted. Some people build walls to hide their true selves, but Tomas wears masks. Constantly swapping them out, switching them from person to person. His knight’s honor leaves room for white lies, mistruths that allow him to sneak away from suspicion. And then too, I have noticed that he is almost too good. There’s a chill about him, as if he’s on the verge of emotion, but is terrified to let the feelings free. He can perform vulnerability, but never honestly, never revealing everything lest it may be used against him. Whatever brought him to our village transformed him. I think he’s afraid of a second transformation. ❞

❝ Bad moon rising, a storm on the horizon; call it whatever you please. There’s turmoil inside of Tomas, thunderstorm on its way to becoming a deadly hurricane. He’s past the point of unsteady —he is canted, nearly falling over. Like a gun just before the trigger is pulled, Tomas is the danger. Never to anyone else though, only to himself. He’d prefer death over letting anyone get to know him, the real him that hides underneath all of that laughter. He is complex, but not so complex that nobody can unravel him. Tomas doesn’t believe this, thinks that everything he has gone through is too toxic to share. He rejects help. It’s not even pride that stops him; it’s fear. Fear of judgement, fear of weakness, fear of letting the village down. Someone told him the lie once that warriors were not allowed to lay down their weapons, and so he walks around with his suit of armor, his sword and shield. Alert always, but Tomas is wearing down. He sees Atlas with the world on his shoulders, but Atlas never had people who cared for him, who were willing to help him carry the weight. Tomas is willing to die for anyone of us, yes. Has anyone considered that that’s what he wants most of all? ❞

about character

one. Macavity, Macavity, there’s no one like Macavity. Speaking of, has one seen Tomas? He was here just a minute ago, but he seems to have vanished in thin air. Omnipresent, he is on the ceiling, the stair and in the cellar. There are rumors of duplication, you know. There is no human way possible that he can be here and there and there also. With some skill, he has managed to share a drink with Daphne at the pub all while helping Missus Jackson with her garden. He’s been seen picking flowers with the children on the hill, but others have seen him near the woods, eyes wooden and mouth full of owl moths. They say that his face with slick with sweat and dew, that he gripped the dry grass as if holding on for dear life. Others say that his arms are full of flowers, that he smelled of blackberries and wine. You may seek him in the basement, you may look up in the air, but I tell you once and once again — Whitney’s not there.

two. I know you, I’ve walked with you once upon a dream. Or was it a memory? He knows there was a city once, shockingly neon and blinding, that held hundreds of millions. The buildings like the Tower of Babel, kissing the sky. The sky, in turn, kissing the people. He remembers, or does he dream, smooth planes of glass and metal that hung from the clouds like a neck dripping in jewels. His face illuminated by raging fires, his face stained red and black with blood. Tomas seizes, dreams, or does he remember, blunt, white teeth gnashing and snapping, clicking together with such force. People leaving by the thousands, empty bodies returning with little more than their skin. Tomas dreams, remembers, seizes, foams, bursts — And he’s never quite sure when day becomes night, when the dreams are just dreams. ... visions are seldom what they seem, but if I know you —

three. Tell me about the big bang. Stars and star dust, chaos and ordering rushing, swirling. Tomas swears he was there when the earth came to be, swears he could see straight into the molten core. He says it was hot at the beginning and ice cold at the end. He says that he saw darkness and light, a thousand truths and a million lines. His tongue contorts with stories of monsters, beasts, gods. Six eyes, twelves wings, hooves and horns and tentacles. He describes their mouths and maws, lolling red tongues and talons that curl into the torso and pull. Tomas says he can see the beginning and feel the first twinges of the end, that the guts of the universe will soon crack open and spill, viscous-like, into what is safe and known. Tell us then, o Tomas, about the big bang. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts to become. 

four. A huntsman ties down his daughter with braided rope and fishing nets. Her ankle is blackened with blood. An arrow pierces her side. Her hands, feet and snarling mouth are all that Tomas can see. Grab hold of her, pin her down! He obeys, feels the rawness of her wrists, her thick, green spit against his cheek. She curses, she kicks, she damns all gods and her parents and every man that binds her. She promises blood and suffering, hellfire and beasts from within the woods that lust for the rend of flesh. She begs to be released, to go back to the house, to the lady-hand forest where the others were. What others, what others? But all Tomas can see is her eyes, her snarling mouth, the maze of rooms and wanting. See, see, see? A huntsman ties down his daughter with braided rope and fishing nets. Her ankle is blackened with blood, and an arrow pierces her side. But tomorrow, or perhaps tonight, she will meet the others.

lore

one. The last place he lived had a festival too, but there they burned witches and sacrificed sinners to the sea. Check his eyes. Aren’t they birch and aspen?

two. There’s something off about that new man, Tomas. They say that he’s a seer, that he knows things far into the future. Soothsayers tell you only what you want to hear. 

three. He freed the huntsman daughter. I saw him myself! Loosening the ties, whispering to her of a place with a red-cheeked woman. Do you trust him still?

[fierte-blog1]

meta on love

the meta thing !!

ACCURSED. o h m an oh mAN u asked this, of all the things WELL LISTEN UP BLUE, u have opened a VERY big u kno can of whatever shit on adam’s part, because this is mESSY. 

let’s start with the whole thing about greeks & love : the greeks recongnised different types of love & i will address this in sections pertaining to adam & each type of love. 

agápe ( ἀγάπη agápē ) means “love: esp. charity ; the love of GOD for man & of man for GOD.“ agape is used in ancient texts to denote feelings for one’s children & the feelings for a spouse, & it was also used to refer to a love feast. agape is used by christians to express the unconditional love of GOD for his children. this type of love was further explained by thomas aquinas as “to will the good of another.“ 

in a previous headcanon, i made note of adam’s beliefs as a catholic ; a terrible one, as he was prone to sin, but he was & remains catholic nonetheless. adam in this regard does display this love for god, he loves god deeply & believes god must love him, as he had been given many gifts ; beauty, intelligence, & divine right to rule, as he is the dauphin & will eventually be king. all of this form of love initially is found exclusively in adam’s religious views, although after belle arrives, the spousal association comes into play. 

eros ( ἔρως érōs ) means “love, mostly of the sexual passion.“ the modern greek word ”erotas“ means “intimate love.” plato refined his own definition : although eros is initially felt for a person, with contemplation it becomes an appreciation of the beauty within that person, or even becomes appreciation of beauty itself. plato does not talk of physical attraction as a necessary part of love, hence the use of the word platonic to mean, “without physical attraction.” in the symposium, the most famous ancient work on the subject, plato has socrates argue that eros helps the soul recall knowledge of beauty, & contributes to an understanding of spiritual truth, the ideal “form” of youthful beauty that leads us humans to feel erotic desire – thus suggesting that even that sensually based love aspires to the non-corporeal, spiritual plane of existence ; that is, finding its truth, just like finding any truth, leads to transcendence. lovers & philosophers are all inspired to seek truth through the means of eros. 

well, here we are, the main issue & part of adam’s love. eros is beauty, & that is what adam values most. even after the curse, he is still vain, but he has someone to guide him, unlike before. adam is all about eros ; it’s basically what fuels him. before the curse, adam often bedded guests from his lavish parties ( he was careful to avoid disease, because that was a thing that he knew would tarnish his looks in the future jfc ). adam is a passionate lover, pre-curse adam was out for his own pleasure & would never let his partners stay through the night ; he would never bed the same person twice, as he honestly really was afraid of letting anyone in to see how hurt he really was. adam is a lot of trauma & he determined once was enough & to prevent himself from succumbing to lust, he would not invite a partner to a party for a period of anywhere from three months to half a year, giving himself what he thought was enough time for that partner to forget about him. note, adam practically had some sort of extravagant thing every fucking week. eros is also the appreciation of the beauty within a person, until belle, adam had never cared to look beyond the surface of any person ; this is exactly what gets him cursed. after the curse, his eros becomes less selfish & more to the ‘ideal’ ; it becomes a sort of awakening & as post-curse adam has only one partner ( belle ), sex is no longer for his pleasure alone. it becomes a form of healing, a way to connect with her beyond what can be done in body, a meeting of two souls. considering that belle is a constant in his life & adam is attracted to the very essence of who she is, he’s pretty much always filled with some level of erotic desire for her.

philia ( φιλία philía ) means “affectionate regard, friendship,” usually “between equals.” it is a dispassionate virtuous love, a concept developed by aristotle. in his best-known work on ethics, nicomachean ethics, philia is expressed variously as loyalty to friends ( specifically, “brotherly love” ), family, & community, & requires virtue, equality, & familiarity. furthermore, in the same text philos denotes a general type of love, used for love between family, between friends, a desire or enjoyment of an activity, as well as between lovers. 

this is something that adam doesn’t display until he begins to bond with belle ; he begins to enjoy his time with her, he likes being around her & he learns to see her as his friend, his equal, & eventually his love interest.

storge ( στοργή storgē ) means “love, affection” & “especially of parents & children” it is the common or natural empathy, like that felt by parents for offspring. rarely used in ancient works, & then almost exclusively as a descriptor of relationships within the family. it is also known to express mere acceptance or putting up with situations, as in “loving” the tyrant. 

this type of love, the love between parent & child, is the love adam has for his mother, & the love he has for mrs. potts, who was surely another mother figure, despite her absence in regards to his father’s cruelty. however, adam is not the type to ‘ merely accept ’ ; this is not a terribly large part of his love.

O K ay, now that’s out of the way. we’re moving on to ADAM & FAKE LOVE. aka, what adam did to lure lovers to his bed. 

adam is intelligent, well educated, & attractive. he uses all of this to his advantage ; he’s also the dauphin, he’s what everyone wants to be in status, or so he believes. does adam put up a very good front of ‘caring’ for his partner ? yes ; pre-curse adam was incredibly talented with words, knowing exactly what to say to make a partner feel like they meant something to him ( reminder, adam’s sexuality is beautiful ; he has bedded both men & women ). he starts with gentle touches, kisses & the likes, he tangles his fingers in his partner’s hair & only gives gentle tugs here & there. he seduces them far before they reach his bedchambers, because this is where the difference between faking love & really wishing to make love comes into play. pre-curse adam would become forceful, although he would never engage in full on intercourse if his partner decided to leave — in those scenarios, which did happen once in a blue moon — they would be gone ; he would never see them again. usually, his partner would be just as anxious to discard every bit of clothing as he. then, their coupling would be passionate & lust driven, he would not kiss them at this point, although he was prone to marking up his partner’s neck. he practically expects his partner to treat him as if he is a god, it’s a mess & one of the best displays of how vain he really is.

adam, post curse, only has eyes for belle ; that clears up a great deal of issues. he is gentle the entire time & the erotic acts that once took place in hallways would instead happen as soon as they were in a private place, a room where they knew no one would come to for a while, or his bedchambers. adam takes time to treat belle like a goddess, instead of wishing for her to worship him, he worships her. she then is the combination of agape & overwhelming eros-love ; adam tends to her pleasure first & will ask before he acts — something that he clearly didn’t do in the past. his displays of love do include kisses & a lot of them, he is more careful in marking her up, as he respects her & would never want her to feel awkward or ashamed. 

tl;dr adam knows how to love & he knows how to fake love…. 

[zet-sway]

Spiritual Shrios Summer Fill - “Caress"

My third fill for @rosenkow's Spiritual Shrios Summer! I wanted a happy ending for these lovebirds, so pardon my AU. I slammed down the rough draft while vibing hard to Hozier and Ed Sheeran.

PROMPT WORD: CARESS | WORDS: 2246 Rated: "S" for "Soft & Spicy" AO3 Link: "Safe, Warm, and Whole" Pairing: Thane / FemShep Setting: Recently Post-War, Thane Survives AU Summary: "I can't sleep," she mumbled. "If you aren't too tired..." Her voice trailed off, her statement finishing with telling hand trailing across his hip, straying close to the sensitive scales below his abdomen.

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The soft chill of night air filtered through the open window in their shared flat as Shepard stepped out of the bathroom on sore, aching feet. Fresh from a cold shower, shoulders dropped with fatigue, she managed a smile at him across the room. Thane looked up from his reading. "Siha, how are you feeling?" "Exhausted." She looked it, too. Ever since the war had ended, combat seemed to always take a heavier toll on her body. Her armor powered her through the field, but in their private quarters, she carried herself on tired legs, fresh bruises peeking out from beneath her shirtsleeves. He would kiss them away if he could. Thane stood and guided her into his arms. "Come to bed with me. I think you've earned a good rest." Their flat - if it could even be called a flat - was barebones, no better than any military dormitory she's ever stayed in. White walls, cold floor tiles, and almost no décor to speak of. It was clean, at least. Six months since the war had ended, humanity had made little to no progress reclaiming the comforts they'd enjoyed before the reapers. Still, some inspired soldier had managed to requisition an old bed that was bigger than the standard issue Alliance bunk size - a gift for the legend herself, and her partner. He eased her down onto the sheets with steady arms. "It's too quiet in here," Shepard groaned as she laid down. "I'm sure the Alliance would be willing to relocate us to one of the orbital stations," he said, undressing before joining her in bed. She made an annoyed sound. "They need me here." It was mostly true. The alliance was still uncovering disorganized pockets of reaper forces, most of them in the underground byways of urban centers. It's what she spent her days doing. Strapping on the same old armor and delving into close quarters to fight cannibals, brutes, and whatever other monsters lurked in the dark. He wanted so badly for her to rest, but she wouldn't have it. The three months she spent held up in the field hospital were agony for her, and not simply because she was in pain. That restless mind, her patchwork cybernetic body giving her inhuman reserves of energy that her organic parts simply couldn't keep pace with. Even the Alliance had tried to offer her diplomatic work - something she had laughed off. "Come back when you're ready to let me do my job." Still, Shepard found planetside silence deafening. Sleep was harder to claim without the white noise of a cruiser. She talked often of the thrumming of engines on ships she'd lived on for most of her life. Thane himself rather enjoyed the quiet sounds of Earth, but it didn't much matter to him where they were. As long as she came home to him at night. "What will you do once the ground work is complete?" he said, settling in beside her. "I can't fucking wait," came her muffled response, face stuffed into a pillow. "Maybe then we can get back into space. Help with the Citadel reclamation." She turned to look at him then, squinting against the light on his nightstand. "If that's okay with you." "My love," he said, switching off the light and kissing her forehead, "I would follow you to the edge of the world if you'll have me." She swatted at him weakly. "You're sickeningly sweet." Thane's face contorted in an exaggerated frown, but his voice betrayed his mirth. "I make you sick?" She rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean." "I love you too, Siha," he chuckled, and gathered her into his arms. Indeed it had taken him a little while to get used to living with humans and their ample use of sarcasm, but he did understand her. By now he had long since stopped using his translator. Earth was becoming more familiar to him by the day, and he was surprised to find so many humans eager for his help. That he wasn't Alliance didn't seem important when so much needed doing. When he refused to leave her hospital bedside, they busied him with menial tasks around the infirmary and he was surprised to find he enjoyed the small role he had in healing the injured. Most of all, he thanked Arashu each and every day for her unbelievable

blessing, to have Shepard here, curling into his chest, safe, warm, and whole. She wriggled against him, humming quietly as she found a more favorable position with her knee over his and her face in the warm velvety frill of his neck. Soft breaths rolled over him and he trilled in response, the sound vibrating in his chest. They fit together so seamlessly that he could never be sure if she teased him like this deliberately or simply out of comfort, but warmth of her breath over his throat made his body stir in irresponsible ways, considering her state of fatigue. With some amount of guilt, he shifted away from her. She reacted, her arm tightened about his waist to press him close and this time she did it on purpose, gentle lips kissing his throat once, then twice with an open mouth, with a small hum of satisfaction. Her intentions were loud and clear. "I thought you were exhausted," he mused into her hair. Ambient light from outside spilled through their open window and illuminated her in the dreamy shades of nighttime. Her eyes were closed, body tucked tight against him. Like holding the entire world in his arms, he swelled with adoration. "I can't sleep," she mumbled. "If you aren't too tired..." Her voice trailed off, her statement finishing with telling hand trailing across his hip, straying close to the sensitive scales below his abdomen. "Mm," he pretended to consider, knowing exactly what she wanted. "I may be able to help. What do you require?" It would be a cold day in hell when he was too tired for her. She kissed his neck again, her palm flattening against the small of his back and dragging it slowly over his backside. "Touch me," she whispered. Warmth bloomed in his chest, the heat of desire washing over him. "It would be my pleasure," he rumbled. Slowly, he pushed her shorts off her hips and eased her on to her back. Eyes closed, licking her lips in contented anticipation, he watched her chest rise and fall with each contented breath. Hands slid across her belly, easing her t-shirt up over her head and she accommodated him, rising just enough to pull it off and flicking it lazily on to the other side of the bed. Relaxed as he'd ever seen, her undressed body laid before him, dotted with scars and stories he knew so well. He pulled himself over her, meeting her lips in an unhurried kiss. She stretched against him, warming beneath his body, hands wandering across the defined lines of his shoulders and spine as though she knew his stripes by memory alone. He gathered her breasts together from where they rolled to her sides and gazed up at her face as he kissed the deliciously soft valley between them. Thumbs running over each hardening peak, he watched her expression as he teased her if only just to see the gleaming edges of her teeth drawing her lower lip into her mouth. Her eyelashes fluttered as he squeezed her flesh gently, closing his lips over first one nipple, then the other. She arched up to meet his eager tongue, heavy breaths rushing from her lungs as though the pressure of his hands drove the air from her body. Beneath him, he could feel her core flex with each flick of his tongue and twist of his fingers "Fuck," she moaned. He couldn't help but watch her, eyes closed, lips parted, chest heaving against his hands as he stoked her lust from a smolder to an irresistible flame. His gentle mouth began to work its way down across the hard plane of her abdomen. Beneath the scent of standard issue soap, he could smell the salt of her skin, pausing to place an appreciative kiss atop her mound before his hands curled around the juncture of her hips. Her breathing was ragged as his thumbs parted her eager, heated flesh for his appreciation. The first time they'd done this he'd had to talk her down from her insecurities. The memory made him feel possessive, nearly angered by the notion that some other man had turned down privilege of knowing her this way. Thane let his breath ghost over her glistening center, thumbs dragging firmly up and down her folds just to hear her moan for him. The urge

to tease her was irresistible. It was with a knowing smirk that he finally bent his mouth to her, tasting her earthy, salty flesh - her hitched gasps like music to his ears. She told him once that he put human lovers to shame, and he was proud - perhaps the only man in existence who pried the secrets of her pleasure straight from her lips. He knew exactly how to touch her simply because he'd asked. The sounds she made when he laved his tongue over her clit were low and resounding reminders of how painfully hard he was in his shorts. Her fingertips trailed along his sensitive jaw, feeling him work as he ate her greedily. "Don't stop," she whispered. He grinned against her sex, teasing her entrance with two fused fingers, pushing slowly inside her heat only to brush against her center and slip out, again and again. Patiently, he devoured her, walking her closer to the edge one searing second at a time until her head was thrown back, her spine arched off the bed, fingers trembling against his scalp. He loved this. Every time he went down on her his mind trailed over every single time previous - recalling the exact intonation of her voice, the press of her hands, the way she tensed her thighs as she neared the peak of her pleasure. By now, he could tell precisely when to set her off. He edged her for a few seconds longer. She was close, so close. She came with a shout, her clutching fingers carefully telegraphing how long he could continue to draw out her climax before she trembled and sagged, clenching her oversensitive flesh away from his hungry mouth. "Holy shit, Thane," she gasped, heaving for breath and sprawling against the mattress. He climbed atop her and she kissed him without hesitation and he growled - he couldn't deny he found it irrefutably erotic how she cleaned the taste of herself off his lips. Clumsy hands fumbled at his shorts, stroking his burning length, urging him to bring it to her lips. Maybe another night - he thought. Right now he burned to bury himself inside her. He felt her tense in anticipation, her eyes cracked open and gleaming in the moonlight, slowly blinking up at him with a look so unguarded he could have wept. She guided him to her slick entrance and he slowly pushed inside, groaning as her hungry, supple flesh tempted him into her scorching depths and at last, he hilted inside her. He set a languid pace, cradling her hips in his hands, searching for the perfect angle to make her see the stars she missed so dearly behind her closed eyes. With her core hypersensitive in the glow of her climax, she clutched at him desperately, nails digging into the scales of his back with such force he thought for sure they would be discolored before long. He didn't care. Becoming one with her, seeing her completely blissed out by each roll of his hips and knowing he could make her feel this way made him shake with wanting. He covered her with his body, ravishing her lips against pleasured cries that came so resoundingly he was sure to hear "who was getting lucky last night?" in the morning. He belonged to her - this night and as many nights as she wanted him. She made him delirious in her pleasure. Her body demanded his release. Held within her wanting arms, he finally succumbed with a hoarse, drawn out cry. For seconds he was infinite, a whirlwind of white hot ecstasy fraying him apart until he found his sweetest end in her embrace. And then there was nothing but her and the caress of crisp, evening air wafting over him. A gift from the earth to bless their joining. He shivered with the aftershocks. Soft hands trailed down his back. He didn't know how long they remained before separating. In the afterglow, memories overtook him easily. Vivid remembrances of Irikah and Shepard tumbled together and he slipped in and out of them like the rolling of coastal waters. It was difficult to rationalize how he could deserve either of them, what he could have done to earn the love of the fierce and cosmic women who touched his heart. But as Shepard's breathing slowed from heavy to peaceful beside him,

his doubts were pushed aside. Arashu herself had sent him a divine protector, and he would not refuse her gifts. "You're the best," she murmured against him, and he could hear the daze of sleep trailing her gentle voice. Just a sigh of breath as she tucked her head against his chest and whispered:

"I love you." - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Thanks for reading!

If you like creating shrios content, you're welcome to hop on board the challenge! My previous fills [AO3]:

Secrets in the Steam [Prompt: Wet]

Your Gods are My Gods [Prompt: Pray]