#*inarticulate wanton noises*

[highfunctioningflailgirl]

You know, our last night on earth.

[szemiesza]

The terrible sound of ripping flesh tore the silence, which otherwise was only broken by the tortured man's heavy wheezing. Melchior tore him off the fleshy wall, careful to not let any of the victim's exposed and mixed up organs fall out. He hoisted him on the autopsy table, the place where the punished man previously hanged now a bleeding, empty hole vaguely in the shape of the body. It closed on its own slowly.

He began working, restoring the man's to relative health, putting his insides in the right places again and paying special attention to his skin, making it almost flawless, though not modifying what he looked like before the years-long torture. The first step, however, took him almost five hours; he needed to make sure he would be back in good shape and didn't die suddenly when not supported by the flow of his vitae in the entire room. He was halfway done with the initial restoration of the skin when he felt so tired he couldn't stand anymore and realized it was probably way past dawn already. He forced himself to create impromptu fleshy binds from the floor up, immobilizing the man just in case, and just collapsed into the strange and soft ground, seemingly swallowed by it.

As soon as he got up next evening, he continued his work, making the body look not mauled in another four hours and then polishing the imperfections within three more. He was done, probably; either way it was good enough for him to break his laser focus for a while and realize he was starving. He's been using vicissitude basically non-stop for the past two nights; it was very draining, someone less experienced would have probably lost all energy halfway through the unbroken workflow. He fought the urge to tear into the man before him, not wanting to destroy so much work in an uncontrolled impulse, and forced himself to walk to his reserves.

Already shirtless and with pants stained with blood from the work, he didn't bother to be careful with the feeding, tearing into one of the trapped men with wanton ferocity. He took his time and barely restrained from killing him, but it wouldn't be wise to kill so often when back home in a scarcely populated area. He designed this place for a reason; what he put back on the agar-like wall was a legless and mutilated wreck with bones uncovered almost all over its body. Nevertheless, the healing process started almost immediately, as the victim was still alive, probably rather unfortunately for him, but to Melchior's satisfaction.

After taking some time to make himself presentable again, he got back to the flesh room with the man he just put back together and inspected his rather vacant stare.

"Can you even hear me?" He asked. The man nodded slowly. The vampire smiled cruelly.

"Good. Can you move? Please walk a few steps to the wall and back to me."

The man complied, though he found the movement difficult, like he hasn't done that in a long, long time – which was true. He has been hanging on the wall, trapped and tortured, for over five years.

"Fantastic," Melchior commented, giving him a firm pat on the back, which made the man lose his balance, toppling him to the floor. Melchior scowled and kicked him lightly.

"Get up," he commanded, annoyed. The man complied, regaining his footing. "Can you speak?"

He couldn't. He just made inarticulate noises like a deaf-mute person who never learned to speak out loud. Melchior shrugged, slightly disappointed, but not too much. That wasn't so important. He wouldn't live much longer anyway.

[littlefreya]

Penny Dreadful

Summary: Sherlock is cold, troubled and upset, his mind is fixed on cracking an unsolved murder. It’s the worst time to disturb him. But his hot-blooded little succubus wants to drag him into sin.

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x OFC (First-person POV)

Word count: 2.5K

Warning: 18+, smut, teasing, bratty behaviour, ass-smacking with a cane, slight cane play, primal play, unprotected rough sex, biting, slight size kink, MaleDom, drug use. Lots of curly hair descriptions.

A/N: Not canon to books Sherlock, obviously, but seeing the photos and teaser Henry as Sherlock just sets up the vibe. So I had to. Many thanks to my beta @agniavateira​ !! Sorry for the ugly cover art :D.

Title: Penny Dreadful

Sherlock’s study was a bleak, musky chamber deprived of heat, notwithstanding the many candles that burnt at every corner. Perhaps it was the pristine heaps of snow that piled on the ledge of the window, or maybe it was his sullen mood that gave the room a sense of icy wilderness. 

Fumes rose from his mouth, vaping into the air. The tawny light kissed his thick mane of luscious, chocolate curls while he stood at the fore of his desk and leered at some parchments that troubled his brilliant mind for whatever reason. 

Fist seizing the golden tip of his cane, his thumb stroked the engravings that embellished the metal. Cases that he couldn’t crack often left him frustrated to the point of madness. Those wicked, sly obsessions made him even more irresistible.  

My nails bit into the wooden doorframe. Consumed by yearning, a blaze licked up my soul with its monstrous tongue. I often wondered how something so pure as love could be dangerous, to which Sherlock would reply, 

“Love is the greatest villain of them all.”

Unlike him, I didn’t care for evil. 

The detective unclipped the small chain he kept fastened to his vest and opened the silver locket, gathering a wisp of white powder on the tip of his pinky finger and pressed it to his nostrils. A small grunt escaped him, his eyes turning glassy. The “fairy dust” tended to sharpen his perception and elevate his stamina.  

I dropped to my knees at his sight, crawling on the floor. The black silks of my dress made a brushing noise as it dragged on the Persian carpet; my breasts peeked as my corset shifted with every move. Sherlock often said we must imagine ourselves as animals once we let desire play our strings. 

Accepting my inner wildness, tonight I was a cougar stalking her prey. 

By nature, his senses were sharp as blades, though the substance that streamed through his veins made a more heightened grip of the reality that surrounded him. He noticed and yet ignored me, letting his hot-blooded harlot crave for his attention.

If I was to be the feline predator, Sherlock was the hunter who pursued me for sport. An unfair game, yet nevertheless my favourite. 

Bathing in my own little fountain of mischief, I allowed my fingers to sneak toward his cane, brushing up and down the mahogany in slow, languid motion. My slender digits licked along the shaft and my bosom followed, pressing against the hardwood. I dragged myself up slightly to glimpse at my master from below: my Sherlock, always a sight for a famished girl; a colossus, intimidating, and breathtaking. Like a moth to a flame, I inched closer dazed by the light, wanting to bask in its radiance. 

The muscle in his cheek tensed, thick brows furrowing. A little squared wrinkle appeared above the bridge of his nose as he brushed through his dark locks with agitation.

“What ills that glorious mind of yours?” I hummed, playful fingertips climbing further up at the length of his cane.

“Something I can’t grasp,” he spat, not giving me the time of day. But I knew he noticed every detail of my wanton behaviour, it was evident by the way his breath swiftly became heavier. Sherlock might have solved crimes by profession, but all women were natural detectives; evolution granted us with a definite survival instinct, learning to read men between the shadows.  

“You can possess me,” I offered, fingers scraping over his thumb as it pressed onto the cane’s golden tip. My voice dropped to a whisper while my hand left the cane in favour of his thigh. The muscle flexed and twitched under my sinful touch, the fabric of his breeches stretched as his cock grew with its natural need to fulfil the wet, convulsing void in me.

“You’re distracting me,” he warned, voice low and stern. His lashes hardly even fluttered to my direction. 

Every delicate little hair stood up at the sound of alarm yet instead, I inhaled the soot of peril, allowing my hand to travel further and meet his hungry girth. It rose to my touch with gratitude, flinching even harder at the clutch of my claws. The flavour of desire was honey and salt on the tip of my tongue.

The low animalistic vibration of his voice wavered through his solid form. I felt it shudder all the way down to his swelling cock. A cautious man, Sherlock was measured and forbearing to a point that made me wonder if he even liked women at all before we fell into the vicious pit of decadence and violent delights. 

It was the contrary that was true: Sherlock loved women very much, his desires were simply… of a certain quality. 

His groin was warm and firm against my cheek. The crystalline-blue glare finally graced me with a sight so brooding my bones clattered.  

“Later, I need to work.” By the drop of his voice, I knew there won’t be a third warning. 

“Later, Later…” I taunted, rolling my chin over his aching need. “All work and no play…”

The gasp that pushed out of my lungs nearly whisked the candles off as Sherlock hauled me up by his hand and bent me over the desk.  

“Should I teach you how to respect my time?” He snarled, throwing the skirts of my dress over my head like a cape of the midnight sky. Stars collapsed under my skin at the sensation of his touch exploring the curve of my bare ass. Talons ruptured the tiny blood vessels, squeezing with the affirmation of his ownership. 

“No undergarments?” Sherlock growled dangerously while his thumb brushed over my silken entrance, toying with the rich elixir and smearing it further down my anticipating petals. I answered with a deep moan, stretching on this desk with a succumbing plea. 

“You came here aimed at disturbing me while I work.”

Settling onto the surface of the desk, I reached forth one arm lazily and chuckled. “You are a great detective, I… oh!” 

Something cold and solid caressed my dripping lips, driving between them in slow, calculated strokes. Throwing my head over my shoulder, I noticed Sherlock holding his cane against my sacred cove, staring at it as if I was yet another piece of evidence to be explored. The golden arched-tip pushed-slightly between my petals and entered just enough to make me hiss. For a mere second I wondered if he was going to fuck me using nothing but his cane.

“Look away; this is going to hurt.” 

I hardly had time to protest when the first smack hit the pillow of my cheek. A wheeze of disgrace shot from my throat, husky and embarrassing, but not as degrading as the sting the metal left at my burning backside.

“Bad girl,” Sherlock ticked his tongue and lifted the cane midway in the air, a flare of noxious desire bursting in his pale-blue orbs. This time I turned away and shut my eyes, gripping the edge of the desk until my knuckles turned dead-white. If only it did anything to dull the pain, the sting was even more prominent, shooting all the way up to my spine where it coiled and forced a strident yip from my clamped lips. 

Yet the throb in my cunt was unmissable.

Sherlock knew very well that the hurt allied with pleasure, enhancing it even, like his powdery magic dust. 

Another smack and my nails scratched at the wood. Like a sinner nun indulging her own beating, I rode the waves of pain as they broke onto shores abundant with pleasure. There were hidden cracks in our public figure, the place where I burnt and Sherlock ascended as we pried our claws into mortal deadly sins. My senses rose to conflict with every smack and Sherlock took joy in every involuntary squirm of my body. 

Tongue pressed between his lips, he hummed as he admired his handiwork, painting my ass in obscene hues of violence. “Had enough? Or want to see which will break first, the rod or your arrogance?” Sherlock chided and pinched my sore cheek to further increase the pain. 

Embers whispered beneath my flesh, my legs jolted from the intense beating and by god, the trickle of my juices rolling down the back of my thighs made even a sultry woman such as myself drown in white shame.

Sherlock’s breath was a heavy guttural waft. His cane dropped to the floor and I heard the sound of metal clicking as he fumbled with his belt. I would be damned if I let him fuck me from behind. To have those eyes look away as he entered me was a vice I wouldn’t stand. 

“No!” I yelled, bracing on my wobbly elbows as much as I could and turned to face him. 

Sherlock’s glare widened, a chill of ice blew through his eyes and his pupils dilated like a crazed feline. “You’re saying no to me?”

“Yes!” I heaved and reached my hands to cradle his skull, pushing myself against the hardness of his body and forcing my lips on his. My kiss was feral, bruising the plush skin on and around his mouth, nibbling and biting until we tasted iron on our tongues. It was not long before I was shoved against the wall, our mouths still united, sharing one breath.

Or rather stealing it from one another.

We were pleasingly unequal. Sherlock was all iron and stone; a bulky, tall man who could tear me apart with his bare hands. I was a little lush thing, so tender, so easily bruised. Despite his power, the desire to claim the tiny wet hole between my legs was unquenchable, reducing him to a savage thing that spoke in raw inarticulate sounds.

He tore his mouth from mine and swept me up from the ground, hiking the skirts of my dress urgently to expose what he coveted the most. I felt the supple velvety texture of his hardness grind against my thigh, smearing the pearly drops of his arousal onto my skin. We both moaned at the sensation and moved to the rhythm dictated by our most primal instincts.  

“You want my cock?” He growled and gnawed his teeth at my neck, biting deep enough to break through the skin. I whined in pain, my voice rising a pitch as I writhed against him to ignite the smallest of frictions and serve the demon of desire in me. 

“Fuck me!” I begged, sliding my fingers through the mass of soft curls and tugging them with need.

Answering my plea, Sherlock speared into my unruly cunt, brutally spreading me open like he would tear the petals from a flower. I yipped into his luscious hair, my nails tearing into his nape as his intrusion claimed everything my body had to offer. I always found it odd how my flesh would resist and beg for him at the same time, my succulent canal fighting to push him by instinct yet he only further rutted into me. He reached his hands to my sore ass to squeeze my cheeks apart.

“Such a tight little harlot,” he groaned, engulfed by my garden of mysteries. Moaning so loudly, our duet reverberated through the corridors of the house. His lashes fluttered with ecstasy as he pulled back only to force me down on his imposing cock, attempting to rip through my denial. Or it was to tame me as I clenched around his girth, accepting and resisting him at the same time. I was nothing but a vessel for him to fill, and he did so with a fiery passion, glaring straight to my eyes while thrusting deep and hard into me.  

Books fell from the shelves nearby as we battled against the wall, my legs sliding up and down his waist, spreading helplessly in the air until my boots pressed into his arse. One of his hands reached for my corset, tugging on the ludicrous outfit to expose my breast. Ravenous, he licked his bloodstained lips, giving me a stare that made my cunt clutch him harder before he sank his fangs to pierce cavities in my tit.

“No!!!” I cried out and gasped as he thrust deeper to punish me for my protest. His heavy cock hit a spot so deep inside me that tears instantly emerged and fell down my cheeks, the pang bringing through a spasm of odd relief. 

Blood and saliva smeared along my cleavage as he dragged his lips further, licking and then kissing every patch he bruised. I moaned breathlessly, throwing my head back against the wall as his nimble fingers surveyed my neck, laying small threats to show me how easy he could simply suspend my very basic need. 

But my survival instincts already flew out the window the moment he penetrated me.

His lips hovered above mine as he fucked deep into my body, our cries creating an obscure symphony as he continuously slammed into my hilt, harder and more urgent with every plunge. The tears that fell down my cheeks were tainted with the conflicting aphrodisiac that pain brought through. In that instant I was whole, gratified by the friction created of the collision of our wet organs.

“Do it!” I gasped and nodded through glossy stares, swallowing hard to gesture what he already knew. With a swift snap of his hands, his fingers were bruising on my neck and he slammed into me at a furious pace, giving no care for my broken screams. 

Euphoria tore through my soul, crashing like hot waves of eternal fire. I came apart around his thick rod crying for God and Satan at once. Sherlock never slowed down, not even as he felt the tightening of my ring around him. It only made him fuck me harder, burying his face at my collarbone, chasing his own rapture at a punishing speed, grunting like a beast. Finally, he shuddered and pumped me full of his thick, silky milk. The muscles of his behind flexed and he ground his hot load into my warm cavern, making sure I received every drop. My hands reached to squeeze his taut ass as my legs clutched him still, wanting to keep him inside me. 

As if he had any intentions of leaving as he moaned and spasmed inside me. 

Smoke filled the room as few of the candles died; the scent of ash and the musk of our sex seeped through our noses while we remained entwined, shaking in each other’s grasp. Breathless and damp with sweat, Sherlock lifted his face from my neck and glanced at me looking so vulnerable, almost appearing lost. I moved my trembling hands back to his face, my thumbs caressing his sharp cheeks. 

“I know I am harsh…” he murmured, his eyes digging into my heart with nothing but a gaze of despair, “but please don’t ever leave me.”

My face fell at the sound of his words, my lips parting with awe. My detective could solve the most outrageous crimes, and yet he couldn’t realise I was shackled to him for all eternity.  

[cirrius-akiyo]

Chapters: 3/3 Fandom: 9-1-1 (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz Characters: Evan "Buck" Buckley, Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Henrietta "Hen" Wilson, Christopher Diaz (9-1-1 TV) Additional Tags: Domestic Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Fluff, Married Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz, Established Relationship, Bury me with all my grammatical errors, Not Beta Read, Songfic, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Fluff and Smut, Explicit Sexual Content Series: Part 4 of Love in the Dark Summary:

Buck is going to fight for their love. Sugar, sprinkles and all.

[Finally we reach to the final chapter of the fourth installment ;) Thank you all :)]

Salvation of a Sinner

Eddie can smell his husband first before seeing him when he wakes up that morning. Buck smells like warm sugar and chocolate, with a hint of whipped vanilla.

For the last two and half days, Buck and Chris have been experimenting with the baked goods they supposed to prepare for the upcoming Bake Sale. Chris was quite indecisive and Buck having all the time on his hand now, decided to indulge their son and to try and see what came out the best.

The baked goods were then brought to the 118 with voting papers attached. The station actually looked brighter the moment Buck stepped inside with Carla in tow, all smiles and radiant. Eddie could see the small tension in Buck's shoulder melted away when he chanced a glance towards the locker, seeing his nameplate and gears were still there, loyally waiting for the owner to return.

Eddie himself can't wait for his husband to be cleared for duty, but presently, he needs to get ready for work, which will be long and arduous without Buck besides him.

He shifts towards Buck who is still very much asleep, marveling at the view of the peaceful features. Warm breath puffing in small huff from the parted mouth and Eddie can't resist but to lean down and kiss the edge of the red pouty lips. Buck scrunches his face when Eddie's morning stubble scratches his nose.

"Good morning, sweetheart." Eddie nuzzles into his husband's cheek, deliberately scratching the skin with his stubble knowing that will goad Buck awake.

"Ugh, go away you scratchy devil." Buck croaks, voice thick with sleep as he tries to push Eddie away before snuggling deeper into his pillow.

"Well husband of mine, do I need to remind you that you got 300 batch of Krispy treats and brownies to make today?" Eddie proceeds to scratch Buck's tousled bedhead, feeling the soft hair there, which only cause Buck to melt further in content.

"It's Rainbow Rice Krispies Treats and Cookies-and-Cream Oreo Fudge Brownies." Buck sasses. Those two got the highest vote from 118, much to Chris' delight. Despite being indecisive, Buck knew Chris was leaning towards the two, so if Buck rigged the votes just to give Chris some sense of validation, their son doesn't have to know.

"Which will not get done by themselves, fancy name or not." Eddie sasses back.

"Urgh, you’re so mean." Buck whines while stretching his elongated body like a cat. "Why can't you stay home and help me bake 'em?" Buck then plops his head into Eddie's lap, smacking his face into his husband's stomach, teasingly blowing raspberries like he usually does with Chris.

Eddie just chuckles, reminding himself how much he loves this man not to smack his arse away.

"Because you know I can't bake shit and I don't want to get my feelings hurt when you kick me out of the kitchen later. And also, why I already enlisted Carla's and Abuela's help." Eddie replies.

"You don't have to do that, you know. I can manage myself." Buck curls his hands around Eddie's waist, content with the warmth there.

"And risk Abuela killing me? No thanks." Eddie quips back. He swears even before they got married, Buck is already Abuela's favourite grandson. The man is charming, Eddie can't compete with that. But most of all, Buck is still prone to exhaustion and dizziness. Eddie sometimes caught him trying to steady himself once in a while, and while that obviously worries him, Eddie doesn't want to be condescending or patronising to Buck. Buck will hate him if he was to be treated like an invalid.

His hand then slowly travels to Buck's lower back, nearing the edge of his sweatpants and start to trace meaningless pattern there which only cause Buck to shudder with anticipation.

"Don't start something you can't finish, husband." Buck warns, breathing slightly hitched. He is not to be left alone in wanton if Eddie decides to rile him up before leaving him unsated.

"Who said I can't finish them?" Eddie smirks, bowing down to meet Buck's lips before kissing him causing Buck to grin in delight like a Cheshire cat.

"Prove it." Buck challenges.

Later, Eddie will find himself rushing through their front door trying to get to work on time, but not before leaving a very satiated husband in his wake.

///

Evan: The treats are almost done! >_< *image attached*

Eddie: They look fantastic, sweetheart! Good job! :)

Evan: But this treat *image attached* is far from being done. ;)

Eddie chokes on his freshly brewed afternoon coffee. One moment he was looking at arrays of fancy looking brownies and Krispies Treats cooling on their respective trays, then another moment he was staring at his half-naked husband, covered only in the “Lick the Spoon” apron. Buck was standing against the kitchen counter, flaunting his miles long leg with one hand teasing the gap between the thin material of the apron and the milky skin while licking a chocolate covered spatula held by the other hand. Some chocolate even dripping onto his bare chest. How did he even manage to snap this picture?

Eddie: R you crazy? Carla might see you! Or Abuela or Chris!

Eddie swears he never type that fast in his life before. He’s anxious, slightly furious, nobody is going to tell him otherwise, but he’s still saving the picture for you know, record purposes. But Eddie really wants to save Abuela, Carla and Chris from the nightmare of catching Buck sauntering around in their house naked.

Evan: Why? This treat isn’t that inviting? :(

Eddie: Evan, NO. =_=

Evan: Mean. :(

Eddie puts away his phone, determines to finish up his coffee before another alarm rings. They were having back to back medical calls all morning, so a quiet afternoon is very much appreciated.

When he is halfway through his cup, his phone vibrates again. Eddie rolls his eyes, expecting another antic of Buck sulking.

Evan: How about now? *image attached*

Eddie sputters, immediately stands up and fled downstairs while muttering furious curses under his breath, leaving a very confused Hen and Chim who are throwing each other silent glances, wondering what’s going on with the man.

“What’s up with him?” Chim whispers underneath his magazine. Hen shrugs. “Maybe a stir-crazy Buck is driving his husband out of his mind again.” Chim scoffs. “Glad I’m married to the other Buckley.” Hen smirks deviously. “Don’t be so sure. She’s still early in her pregnancy. Wait until she’s big and swollen, then we can have this conversation again.” She pats his shoulder before standing up to fix her own cup of coffee, leaving a very rattled looking Chim.

Safe in the deepest part of the storage room where nobody can take a peek on his phone screen, Eddie dares to open again the last image Buck has sent to him, slowly releasing his breath that he doesn’t even notice he’s holding. Eddie emits a strangling noise once the image popped up.  

Buck is in their bedroom, grinning widely at the mirror while still wearing the damn apron. Only now his bare ass is on full display, with little to nothing left for imagination saves only with the ribbon-loop of the apron loosely tied on his waist.

Buck flaunts his body in a way that he definitely knows is able to wake Eddie’s primal desire and he can’t risk gawking upon the picture in the common area. He has a reputation to hold, a man of principle that is not easily swayed by his sexy and charming husband.  

Eddie: Goddammit Evan! I’m at work. >:(

Evan: See you at home, husband. :)

Evan Buckley-Diaz is a menace and a chaos, but Eddie loves him anyway.

///

Later when Eddie return to a quiet home, his mouth water for totally different reason. Buck is no longer in the skimpy apron. Instead he found his husband sleeping on the couch engulfed in Eddie's LAFD hoodie and a very short shorts. Booty shorts short. His bubble butts perfectly filled them in, and it took greater self-restrain than Eddie initially thought he needed to stop himself from groping that ass, hard. From the look of it, Eddie dares to say Buck is trying to entice him when he comes home that night but finally succumb to the grip of sleep.

If Eddie didn't notice how tired Buck looks, Eddie would have him ravished there and then, consequences be damned. Plus, his husband has been riling him all over at work, but Eddie is a sensible man who thinks with his brain and not his dick, and his brain is telling him Buck needs his rest and sleep.

"Let's get you to bed, sweetheart." Eddie pulls Buck hand, trying to tug him into sitting up after he switches off the TV that is still flickering at the background.

"Carry me." Buck whines adorably, now hunching forward into Eddie’s tummy, still half-asleep.

Eddie scratches Buck's scalp before scooping him up in bridal carry. Buck has gained some of the lost weight, but he's still far along from bulking up to how he was before. At least his face is less gaunt, and he has more definition in his cheeks now.

Eddie peeks inside Chris’ room when they passed his slightly ajar door.

"Are you ready for tomorrow?" Eddie asks once Buck is safely deposited onto their bed. He then drags their duvet to tuck his husband in and fluffing his pillow up, pleased to see how content Buck looks.

"Em hmm." Buck replies albeit inarticulately.

"You're sure you don't need any of us accompanying you? Might be a lil bit late for me to opt out from work, but Carla and Abuela would be glad to do so. I can even cash my shift change with John tomorrow morning." Changing into his night wear, Eddie makes his way to the bathroom to wash up, keeping the door ajar. He already showers at the station beforehand so that he doesn't disturb Buck in case he's already asleep.

"Chris will be there." Buck replies while shifting on the bed to face the bathroom door.

"Chris doesn't count, sweetheart." Eddie leans on the doorframe with toothbrush still in hand.

"Just help me load them into the jeep first thing tomorrow morning and we're good." Buck half mumbles.

"Mmm." Eddie agrees, mouth full of toothpaste. “Are you sure?” He continues after spitting out the foam.

“Positive, Eddie. Now can you come in here faster. I’m cold. Need my human-radiator.”

Finishing up, Eddie proceeds to slide in under the duvet, shutting off the night lamp before pulling Buck into his embrace.

"Alright, your human-radiator is at full service. Go to sleep now. I love you." Eddie whispers to the crown of Buck's tousled head, soft curls tingling his nose.

"I love you more. Sex me." Buck starts to trace lazy patterns on Eddie's abs, nearing more to his happy trails, while trying to grind his groin with Eddie’s thigh together albeit weakly. The thin material of his booty short definitely doesn’t help Eddie’s cause here. While that is very inviting, he doesn't want them to make another hospital trip with Buck in tow. Eddie doesn’t want to be answerable to any of their family and friends as to why Buck is admitted again. Dying by being dicked.

"You're tired. I'll sex you up tomorrow morning if you up to it." Eddie swiftly catches Buck's wandering hand, immediately stopping the man from cupping his dick. If his half-hard dick has eyes, they would be giving Eddie stink eyes at the lost of sensation.

Buck seems to contemplate on the idea. "Sex me up good?" He finally concedes. Buck does feel tired. Exhausted really. If Carla and Abuela didn't help, he's positive Eddie might be coming home to him passed out on the kitchen floor.

Buck feels Eddie's lips pressed against his temple before Eddie brings Buck’s wandering hand up onto his mouth, pressing a kiss to the knuckles.

"The best."

"Promises, promises."

Eddie can feel Buck relax in his hold and melted against his chest. A beat after that, Buck is already snoring softly. While Eddie feels like the weight of the day lifted from his shoulder, the weight of his husband pressing against him grounding him in a very comforting manner. Before long, Eddie finds himself drowsy and sleep comes peacefully to him.

"I thank God for everything

That you showed me, that you showed me, yeah

And I thank God for everything

That you showed me, that you showed me"

///

Buck is not a stranger at Christopher’s school events. Even before they got married, Buck had attended few show-and-tells, few plays and some projects exhibitions. However, when it comes to anything related to Chris’ English Class, Buck tends to avoid them like a plague, worried to collide with one Ana Flores. Buck is a firm believer that no confrontation is the best defense.

Ana Flores who is smart, pretty, lovely and everything nice. Ana Flores who had made Eddie acting like a fool the very first time he met her.

Ana Flores whom in Buck’s drug induced dream, smiling in their annual family Christmas card, who stands beside Eddie on Christopher’s graduation day, who sits at the front row when Christopher standing at the altar, waiting for his spouse-to-be.

So, what if Buck feels threaten by another woman. Hen said his feeling of insecurity is valid when Buck turned to her one day. Even though Ana now is not Chris’ teacher anymore, she is still the teacher responsible for special education kids. So, it was not surprising when Eddie bumped into her during the last parents-teacher meeting that eventually had led to all this mess.

Buck has forgiven Eddie and they’re past that. Even if Eddie still find it hard to believe it, Buck honestly doesn’t hold any anger, what’s more any resentment towards his husband. Eddie has confessed right after he got home that night, and ever since has been trying so hard to make amends. True, the doubt on his self-worth seems to be amplified, but Eddie keep proving to him repeatedly after the aneurysm to not be. Buck takes that as a win.

As for Ana Flores, Buck is not sure about his feeling towards the teacher. It’s not mere resentment, not bitter, not anger but more like insecurity and apprehension. Ana is everything that Buck isn’t. Specifically, Ana has something Buck will never have. A womb. The ability to carry a child. Eddie has created wonderful Christopher with Shannon before. What does Buck have to offer?

And now Buck is sweating buckets under his Henley. Even though Eddie had kept his promise and sexed him up good first thing this morning, they did nothing to calm his nerves when he starts up his jeep.

Buck knows he had come out strong to Eddie, saying he would be fine. But the truth is, he is a nervous wreck. Now Buck is starting to regret denying Eddie’s offer to come along, quoting that the team is already one man down and he did not want to impose Abuela or Carla any more than needed.

Chris is excited, ecstatic to sell the sweet goodness they have baked, and Buck doesn’t want to crash his enthusiasm by being a coward.

So here is Buck standing his ground and staking his claim, fully armored with all the sugary sweetness and one marvelous son (and a slight aching bum).

Arriving at the school, a volunteer leads them towards the registration counter where a teacher is attending eager students and equally eager parents as to their respective booth.

What is the chance that the teacher happens to be none other than Ms. Ana Flores? Well, the chance apparently is 100% for Buck because sitting at the counter, is the Ana Flores, wearing a daffodil hued blouse and sky-blue skirts. There is no denying it, she does look pretty, hair all swaying in the breeze.

Before Buck can collect his nerve, Chris has trudges forward like a man with mission. Well, they do have a mission if 300 brownies and Krispy Treats is anything to go by.

“He - Hello, Ms. Flores.” Chris strides his way towards the teacher, who later smiles brightly upon seeing the little man.

“Hello, Christopher. Are you ready to sell?” Ana greets back, now shifting her whole attention to Chris after another teacher took her place to assist other participants.

“Yeah. We baked – lots – and lots and we gonna sell lots – and lots.” Chris cheers enthusiastically. Watching Chris interacting with his (former?) teacher, Buck has since regains his confidence. You got this, Buck!

Ana looks up and saw Buck, and Buck smiles his thousand-megawatt smile, one that he used to throw around at the crowd of young spectators during their rescue. One that had made Eddie extremely jealous when a young man slipped his phone number into Buck’s pocket after saving his roommate. Here goes nothing.

Buck can’t help to notice Ana’s smile falters a bit after seeing him. Does she had hope Eddie will be the one coming? Alright, time to mark your territory, Buck. Buck braves forward, approaching the two.

“Hi, I’m Buck. I think we have met before.” Buck offers a handshake, still wearing the crowd-pleaser smile of his.

Ana seems to be pulled out from her stupor. “Yeah. Yes. I’m Ana. Umm, yes, we have met before, but we didn’t really introduce ourselves. I’m sorry, I was actually expecting Mr. Diaz. Christopher said his dad will be coming for this Bake Sale.” She replied cautiously while shaking Buck’s hand.

Buck raises his eyebrows. Huh. Cutting straight to the chase, won’t we?

But before Buck is able to open his mouth to cut Ana down a size, Chris chimes in, “Buck – Buck is my other – father, Ms. Flores. He is – my Pops.”

If anything, Buck leers wider. Take that Miss. Oh, Chris is up for a good treat this weekend. “Yeah, the name is Evan Buckley-Diaz, but people usually call me Buck. Eddie is my husband. Technically, I am the other Mr. Diaz. Is there a problem, Ms. Flores?” Buck asks while batting his eyelashes, eyes never leaving Ana’s, feigning innocence rivaling Chris’.

The moment Buck introduced himself, Ana suddenly freezes, breaking the eye contact first. Buck too, freezes because Ana froze, does that make sense? Buck can feel the electrifying tension in the air during the beat of silence between them.

What Buck does not expect is for Ana to blush. “I... well...I am,” Ana is gaping like a fish, trying to collect herself. While Chris giggles as if Ana has grown another set of head, now Buck genuinely pities her. Did he come in too strong? The momentary triumph he felt few minutes ago slowly ebbed out of him. Shaming Ana in public has never been in his plan, because Buck still remember being publicly humiliated after that poor man stole his identity to catfish unsuspecting women.

“Well, Mr Buckley...Diaz...,” Ana stammers.

“Just Buck, please.” Buck offers sympathetically.

“Well, Buck...” Now she is stumbling with the checklist, flipping through the names and stops at ‘E.B.Diaz’ written beside ‘Christopher D. B. Diaz’, oh, ooh, oooh, “your booth’s number is 29. You can unload your goods at the main entryway. Another volunteer will guide you to your booth and help you with the loads.” Ana finally gets her act together, switching into more professional demeanor, albeit a bit tensed.

“Thank you, Ms. Flores.” Buck simply said.

“Sure.” She nods ardently.

“Let’s – g – go Pops. The brow – brownies will get hot in – in the car.” Chris is already tugging Buck to move, blissfully unaware of the tension rising between the two adults.

///

When Ana sets her eyes onto one Edmundo Diaz for the first time, she knew she likes him. After knowing that Eddie's wife is out of picture long time ago, she knew she got a chance. Gathering information from Christopher’s stories, Ana collected that Eddie never tried to date again. The only constant is this guy named Buck whom according to Chris is his and his father's best friend. Chris incorporates Buck into every family-related project or homework.

She saw Buck a few times, picking up Chris from school, and even attended the school play and science fair. Tall, buff, and handsome, but she already got her eyes fixed on Mr. Diaz.

Now that Christopher is not in her class anymore, she finally made her move to convey her feeling to Mr. Diaz. She thought she would be more articulate, but she ended up jump straight to kissing Mr. Diaz after the parent-teacher conference. Which she admits, not her finesse moment, but before she can deepen the kiss, Mr. Diaz pulled back before cursing in long succession of Spanish and English. The man literally dashed across the hallway faster than the school’s track and field’s athlete. Did she feel humiliated? Yes. Will she give up? Absolutely not.

So, Ana waited for her chance to talk to Mr. Diaz privately.

But her chance never came afterwards. Later, she learnt that Buck was in hospital, which might explain the reason Christopher has been skipping schools for few days here and there.

But now, with the Bake Sale is coming, Ana sure her chance is finally here. Chris had confirmed that his father will be joining the Bake Sale and Ana can't wait. She wore her best outfit, dressed to the nine and even had her hair and nails done.

Then Ana met Buck instead of Mr. Diaz, who appears to be the one accompanying Christopher for the Bake Sale. He’s thinner than the last time Ana saw him, but otherwise looked healthy. Oh wait, scratch that. Evan Buckley-Diaz. E.B. Diaz. The E.B. Diaz. And Ana never had wished so hard upon a star for a hole to suddenly swallow her into the deepest pit, never to come up back again. Let her be buried in shame and disgrace.

///

After a very successful sale at the Bake Sale this morning, Buck and Chris return to their home with heads held high, clearly pleased with the outcome. Buck just earns himself the right to gloat to Eddie for the rest of his life. Despite he can see that Ana was actively avoiding their way, Buck didn’t allow it to bother him. What’s important is that Chris is happy, and he had stood his ground, introducing himself as Chris’ other official parent.

What he doesn’t expect is for Ana Flores to stand before their front door that late afternoon.

“I kissed Eddie.” She promptly blurts out.

Now Buck senses like he is experiencing some kind of deja vu.

///

Ana Flores might be a determined woman, but a home wrecker she is not. If confessing her sin is what needed so she can sleep at night, so be it.

And that's how she finds herself standing in front of the Diaz, no, Buckley-Diaz residence, late in the afternoon after the Bake Sale. Mrs. Dolores had given her some serious side eyes when she skipped the cleaning duty, citing family emergency. Well, technically this is an emergency. A family might be torn apart because she did something stupid.

She has drafted a perfect apology speech during her drive to the couple’s residence, but every word flew away the moment Buck opened the front door. “I kissed Eddie.” She blurts out, as finesse as the first time she kissed Mr. Diaz.

She nervously waits for the impending yells, or even slaps, but they never come. Instead she finds Buck doubling over, laughing his heart out. Now she is even more confused than the first time she discovered Mr. Diaz has remarried. Has another of his aneurysm popped?

“Mr. Buckley-Diaz…?” She inquiries, genuinely concern as to Buck’s health.

“I’m sorry. One moment. Oh, and just Buck, please.” Buck gathers his breath, some small chuckles escaping him.

“Mr. Buckley, please… I am so sorry.” Ana pleads, guilty etched on her sullen face.

“It’s okay. I gather that you didn’t know?” Buck asks back. From her demeanor after Chris dropped the bomb, she looked completely blindsided. Buck couldn’t possibly hold that against her.

Ana nodded furiously. “If I had known, I would never… I swear.”

“I believe you.”

///

The smell of rich chocolate still wafts sweetly through the front door when Eddie returns home that evening. He immediately feels at ease the moment he steps into their little house.

“I’m home.” He calls out to his family whose laughter could be heard emanating from the kitchen. To be honest, Eddie has been slightly on edge about the day, and Buck doesn’t really give him much update except from “it’s great” and “see you at home later”.

“Welcome home!” He hears Buck replies (yells) back to him.

Eddie quickly makes his way towards the kitchen. The dinner table is full of the duo’s bounties today. Chris must have convinced Buck to try everything out and Buck must have been indulging their son endlessly.

“How does it go?” Eddie questions tentatively, rounding his way to hug Buck who is sitting beside Chris.

Buck cheekily shows him the stacks of empty trays sitting by sink, waiting to be cleaned by none other than Eddie himself. Eddie can see how Chris’ and Buck’s eyes glimmers and wide grins spread across their faces, both vibrating in eagerness.

Something crossed on to his mind. “Did you guys sell everything?” Eddie exaggerates his surprise, pleased to see how both are smiling even brighter.

“Y – yes – Daddy.” Chris nods keenly, Eddie worries his neck might hurt.

“Good job big man!” Eddie throws a high five.

From the side of his eyes, he can see Buck pouting. “How about me?”

“Well, you did a good job baking, but I am sure Chris here is the selling point.” Eddie smirks teasingly.

Buck huffs. “Well, then please do a good job cleaning up those trays. Abuela wants them to be shiny when we return them later.” Buck quips before walking away with Chris in tow, ready to turn for the night.

///

Buck returns to the kitchen after finishing tucking Chris in.

“He’s asleep?” Eddie asks from the sink, still trying to scrape away the residues that somehow leaked from the baking paper.

“Not even reaching another page of the book.” Now they are on the first one of the Diary of the Wimpy Kid series. Buck then leans against the counter beside Eddie who is still struggling with the mess.

Eddie hums, still focusing hard to scrape the gooey madness that somehow refuse to go away.

“You only answered part of my question just now. How does it go?” Eddie turns towards his husband, already given up on the trays.

Oh.

“Peculiar yet funny things happened, you won’t even believe me.” Buck provides while hands pulling Eddie closer to him.

Eddie’s eyebrows crease in confusion. “Dare to enlighten me?” His hands in turn snakes around Buck’s waist.

“Ana doesn’t know that we are married. Never know that you remarried. Thought E.B. Diaz is Edmundo B. Diaz, Not Evan Buckley-Diaz. Plus, Chris had graduated from her class when we got married, so she doesn’t really get the notice.” Buck explains, patiently waiting for Eddie to wrap his head on the story.

At that very moment, Eddie’s worldview just cleared up even more. Huh.                

“Evan, I…” Eddie suddenly sounded a little bit on edge. If Ana didn’t know, then the burden of the guilt shifted onto him totally. Eddie only have himself to blame.

Sensing the tensing in Eddie’s voice and the way he is trying to free himself from their intertwined limbs, Buck just embraced him tighter and start swaying their bodies to the invisible rhythm.

“We’re past all that, Eddie. You didn’t know that she didn’t know. Plus, from what I gather, she’s the one who kissed you first, and you didn’t act upon it. This was all a huge misunderstanding. I love you, Eddie. I love our family. Nothing can take that from me, from you, from us, aneurysm or not. You need to forgive yourself, Eddie.” Buck says intently, sincerity and adoration clear in his bright eyes.  

Eddie never thought he can fall deeper in love with Buck, but he does. He whole being just fall in love even more with the man standing in his embrace. Buck is everything good that Eddie never thought he would find again after his first marriage crumbled. Buck just has that kind of power over Eddie, but Buck seems to be oblivious of it. Eddie has never been good with his words, so instead, he pulls Buck closer and press into his husband red lips in a filthy bruising kiss.

“You are my home.” Eddie whispers against Buck’s swollen lips, pressing their bodies even closer with no space left in between them.

“And you are mine.”