#Raere

[yassbishimvintage]

Hearts on Deck (4)

A/N: This was highly waited for. Hope y'all enjoy

Masterlist

The next morning, Cleo awoke alone in her hotel bedroom.

For a moment, she stayed still, blinking against the soft morning light filtering through the curtains. The spot beside her was empty, but the sheets still held his warmth.

She stretched, exhaling softly as the events of the night before played in her mind—the quiet confessions, the slow kisses, the way Aaron had held her like he had no intention of letting go.

Reaching for her phone on the nightstand, she saw a new message waiting for her.

Aaron: Didn’t want to wake you. You looked too peaceful. I’ll see you later?

A small smile tugged at her lips.

She typed back quickly.

Cleo: I’ll hold you to that.

She set her phone down, pulling the covers tighter around herself. No labels, no rush—just them.

And for now, that was more than enough.

Cleo stared at her packed suitcase by the door, a sinking feeling settling in her chest. Her flight home was in a few hours, and she didn’t want to go.

London had been good to her—better than she expected. Work had brought her here, but Aaron had made her want to stay.

She sighed, running a hand through her hair before checking her phone again. No new messages from him.

Maybe that’s for the best, she thought. Saying goodbye in person might make it harder.

Still, as much as she tried to convince herself, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was leaving something unfinished.

-

Back in L.A., Cleo threw herself into work. Editing, brand meetings, content planning—anything to keep her mind busy. She told herself she was fine. That what she saw didn’t matter.

But when her phone buzzed with a message from Aaron, that same knot tightened in her stomach.

Aaron: Hey, love. How was your flight?

She stared at the screen, debating how to respond.

Part of her wanted to ignore it, to create some distance until she figured out what she was feeling. But another part—the part that missed him more than she wanted to admit—wanted to ask who she was.

Instead, she took a breath and typed back.

Cleo: Landed fine. Just been busy catching up on work.

She hit send and put her phone down, but her mind was anything but settled.

Cleo barely had time to prepare before her phone lit up with a FaceTime call—Aaron.

She hesitated for only a second before answering.

His face filled the screen, and just seeing him made her shoulders relax. He was in his apartment, hair slightly tousled, wearing a hoodie that made him look even softer than usual.

“Hey, love,” he greeted, his deep voice warm, like he’d been waiting for this call as much as she had.

“Hey yourself,” she replied, settling back into her couch.

He studied her for a moment. “You alright?”

She sighed. “I am now.”

A slow smile spread across his lips. “Good. Because I meant what I said, Cleo. It’s just you.”

She swallowed, suddenly feeling a little shy under his gaze. “I know.”

“Do you?” he pressed, tilting his head slightly. “Because if you need me to say it again, I will.”

Her heart fluttered. Damn him.

“I hear you,” she admitted softly.

“Good.” He leaned back, getting comfortable. “So… about ‘very soon.’ How soon are we talking?”

She smirked, finally feeling like herself again. “You in a rush to see me, Pierre?”

“Always,” he answered without hesitation.

And just like that, the knot in her stomach was completely gone.

He smirks. “Because I was thinking about your lips on mine. Maybe they can start exploring other places.” He says.

Cleo raised an eyebrow, heat creeping up her neck at his boldness. “Oh? And where exactly do you think my lips should be exploring, Pierre?”

Aaron’s smirk deepened, his hazel eyes gleaming with mischief. “I have a few ideas.” His voice dropped slightly, a teasing edge laced in his tone. “But I’d rather show you in person.”

She bit her lip, pretending to think. “Hmm. Tempting offer. But you know, I’m a busy woman.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “And yet, here you are, on FaceTime with me, looking like you’re already thinking about it.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the smile on her lips. He was right. Damn him again.

Aaron leaned in closer to the camera, his expression turning more serious, more intense. “So… when are you gonna stop playing and let me remind you exactly what you’ve been missing?”

Her breath hitched slightly, but she kept her composure. Barely. “Maybe I just like keeping you on your toes.”

His grin was slow, deliberate. “You do that already, love.”

She exhaled, knowing full well she wasn’t going to win this round. “Give me a few days.”

He nodded, satisfied. “I’ll be waiting.”

Soon he drops the camera down. He’s shirtless. She felt herself get hot. 

Cleo’s breath hitched as Aaron casually dropped the camera lower, revealing his bare chest. The sharp lines of his collarbones, the defined muscle, the way his skin caught the light—it was almost unfair.

Her fingers instinctively tightened around her phone. Damn.

He smirked, clearly noticing the way her eyes lingered. “Something wrong, love?” His voice was laced with amusement, as if he knew exactly what he was doing to her.

She cleared her throat, shifting in her seat. “You did that on purpose.”

He ran a hand over his jaw, feigning innocence. “Did what?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t play dumb.”

He chuckled, his voice dropping an octave. “I just thought we were being honest tonight. You want me, I want you. So why are we still pretending?”

She exhaled, her body betraying her with the warmth pooling in her stomach. “You really don’t like waiting, do you?”

His gaze darkened slightly, his smirk turning into something more deliberate. “Not when it comes to you.”

Cleo bit her lip, feeling her resolve slipping. “Give me a few days,” she repeated, though her voice was softer this time.

Aaron tilted his head. “Two. No more.”

She exhaled, knowing full well she was going to cave before then. “Fine. Two.”

His smirk widened. “Good girl.”

His hand dropped lower. Cleo’s breath caught as Aaron’s hand drifted lower, his movements slow and deliberate. His hazel eyes never left hers, watching her reaction with quiet satisfaction.

“Still keeping me waiting?” he murmured, his voice thick with amusement and something else—something darker, more knowing.

She swallowed, her skin feeling hot despite the cool air in her apartment. “You love teasing me, don’t you?”

His smirk deepened. “I love seeing you like this.”

Her fingers gripped the edge of her phone. She wanted to look away, to keep some sense of control, but he had her right where he wanted.

“Tell me you don’t want me,” he challenged softly. “And I’ll stop.”

Silence stretched between them, thick with tension.

She should play it cool. Keep him guessing. But the truth was, she did want him. Badly.

Her voice came out softer than she intended. “You already know the answer.”

Aaron exhaled, his jaw tightening like he was holding himself back. “Then stop making me wait.”

His hand reached the waistband of his sweats.

Cleo’s breath hitched as Aaron’s fingers teased the waistband of his sweats, his movements slow and deliberate. His gaze stayed locked onto hers, watching, waiting.

Her phone suddenly felt heavier in her hand. She could hear her own heartbeat in her ears, feel the heat creeping up her skin.

“Aaron…” she warned, her voice barely above a whisper.

He smirked, his hazel eyes dark with amusement. “Yes, love?”

She swallowed, trying to maintain some semblance of control. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

He exhaled a quiet chuckle, his thumb slipping just beneath the fabric. “Only if you don’t want to play too.”

Her stomach tightened. He was testing her, pushing her to see how far she’d let him go. And the truth was… she wanted to let him.

She licked her lips, her voice softer now. “You really don’t like waiting, do you?”

His smirk didn’t waver. “Not when it comes to you.”

Heat pooled in her stomach. She should tell him to stop, to keep things from going too far over FaceTime. But damn it, he made it so hard to think straight.

Her silence was enough of an answer.

Aaron’s voice dropped, lower and rougher now. “Tell me what you want, Cleo.”

She swallowed hard. “For you to go lower.” She says. 

Aaron’s smirk deepened, his eyes darkening at her words. “That’s my girl,” he murmured, his voice like velvet.

Her breath hitched as he slowly pushed his hand lower, teasing the waistband of his sweats with deliberate patience. He was drawing this out, savoring her reactions, the way her lips parted, the way she leaned just a little closer to the screen.

“You sure about that?” he asked, his tone a mixture of teasing and promise.

Cleo swallowed hard, her fingers gripping her phone tighter. “Don’t start something you can’t finish, Pierre.”

His low chuckle sent a shiver down her spine. “Oh, love,” he exhaled, “I always finish what I start.”

She felt the familiar heat pool between her thighs.

Cleo shifted slightly, pressing her thighs together as the heat between them grew unbearable. Aaron’s gaze flickered downward for a brief second, and when he looked back at her, there was no mistaking the hunger in his hazel eyes.

“You look so good like this,” he murmured, voice thick with desire.

She bit her lip, her breath coming quicker. “And you look entirely too pleased with yourself.”

His smirk widened. “Can you blame me?” His hand dipped just a little lower, fingers teasing the fabric at his waist. “You’re hanging onto my every move.”

She swallowed hard, pulse hammering. He was right—she was hanging onto every moment, every inch of him, and he knew it.

“Aaron…” she warned, though there was little conviction behind it.

His voice was a whisper now, dark and smooth. “Say the word, love. Tell me how bad you want it.”

Just like that he stopped. “I booked your flight. See you.” He says.

Cleo blinked, her breath still uneven, her body still thrumming with heat—and just like that, Aaron pulled back with a smirk that was entirely too smug.

“Wait… what?” she asked, her brain struggling to catch up.

He tilted his head, amusement flickering in his hazel eyes. “Your flight. I booked it. You’re coming to London.” His voice was casual, as if he hadn’t just left her hanging on the edge.

She stared at him, completely thrown. “You—what?”

Aaron chuckled, running a hand through his curls. “You didn’t think I was gonna let you stay all the way over there when we both know where you really want to be, did you?”

Her heart pounded for an entirely different reason now. He wanted her there. No more teasing over FaceTime, no more waiting.

“I’ll see you soon, love,” he said smoothly, giving her one last knowing glance before the screen went black.

Cleo sat there, phone in hand, still processing everything. One thing was for sure—Aaron Pierre was going to be the death of her.

-

The moment Cleo stepped out of Heathrow Airport, a sleek black car was already waiting for her at the curb. The driver, dressed in a crisp black suit, held a sign with her name on it.

“Miss Cleo?” he asked politely.

She adjusted her sunglasses and nodded, suppressing a smile. Of course Aaron would do this. Always thoughtful, always making sure she was taken care of—but also always maintaining an air of mystery.

As she slid into the back seat, she pulled out her phone to text him.

Cleo: You sending me a car now? What, no personal welcome?

The car pulled smoothly away from the airport, weaving through the streets of London. Before she could put her phone away, it buzzed with a reply.

Aaron: Patience, love.

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the flutter in her chest. He knew exactly what he was doing.

The ride felt both too long and too short. London’s cityscape passed by in a blur—historical buildings, red double-decker buses, streets full of life. But she barely took it in, her mind too focused on him.

When the car finally pulled up to a sleek, modern building in St. John’s Wood, she exhaled slowly.

She stepped out, smoothing her outfit, adjusting her bag. Before she could knock, the door swung open.

Aaron stood there, leaning against the frame, watching her with that slow, knowing smirk. His hazel eyes roamed over her, appreciation clear.

“Hey, stranger,” he murmured.

Cleo arched a brow, stepping closer. “You better have a damn good reason for making me fly across the world.”

Aaron reached for her hand, lacing his fingers through hers. “Oh, I do,” he said, pulling her inside. “But first—let’s make up for lost time.”

He kissed her forehead. The warmth of Aaron’s lips on her forehead sent a shiver down her spine. It wasn’t rushed or teasing like before—it was intentional, grounding.

Cleo closed her eyes for a brief moment, inhaling his familiar scent—something fresh, clean, and undeniably him.

“I missed you,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over the back of her hand.

She smirked, tilting her head up to look at him. “Is that so? Because last time I checked, you were the one playing games on FaceTime.”

Aaron chuckled, the deep sound vibrating in his chest. “And yet, here you are.”

She rolled her eyes, but her smile betrayed her. “Shut up.”

He grinned and pulled her inside, closing the door behind them. “Come on, love. You’ve had a long flight.”

She expected him to lead her to the couch, maybe the kitchen—but instead, he brought her straight to his bedroom.

“Oh? Straight to the bedroom?” she teased, arching a brow. “Bold move, Pierre.”

Aaron gave her a pointed look. “You’re jet-lagged, and I know you won’t admit it.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but as soon as she kicked off her shoes and sat on the edge of the bed, exhaustion crept in.

He crouched in front of her, hands resting on her thighs. “I’ll run you a bath, get you something to eat,” he said softly. “Then, we’ll talk.”

Cleo studied him, her heart flipping at how easily he took care of her. She didn’t have to ask—he just knew.

She sighed dramatically. “Fine. But only because I don’t have the energy to fight you on it.”

Aaron smirked, pressing a kiss to her knee before standing. “You never win those fights anyway.”

She threw a pillow at him, but the truth was, she loved this—the quiet care, the unspoken understanding.

And as she watched him walk away, she realized something terrifying.

She wasn’t just falling for Aaron Pierre.

She already had.

Cleo hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but the moment her head hit Aaron’s pillow, exhaustion won. The faint scent of his cologne lingered in the fabric, wrapping around her like a comforting embrace.

Aaron stood at the doorway, watching her for a moment. The way her breathing had slowed, her body curled slightly into the duvet—it was clear she needed the rest. Instead of waking her, he let her be and quietly stepped out of the room.

He pulled out his phone and ordered dinner, making sure to include her favorites. She’d probably fuss about it later, insisting she wasn’t that tired, but he knew better.

As the food was on its way, he busied himself around the apartment, dimming the lights to create a more relaxed atmosphere. He put on a soft playlist—nothing too loud, just enough to fill the silence.

Every so often, he’d peek into the bedroom, just to check on her. And every time, he found himself smiling. She looked so peaceful, so at home.

By the time the food arrived, he set the table but hesitated before waking her. Instead, he knelt by the bed, brushing a few loose strands of hair from her face.

“Cleo,” he murmured, his voice gentle.

She stirred slightly, but her eyes didn’t open.

He chuckled to himself and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. “Come on, love. You need to eat.”

She groaned sleepily, stretching but still not opening her eyes. “Mmm… five more minutes.”

Aaron smirked. “That’s what you said last time.”

She peeked one eye open, meeting his gaze. “You kept checking on me, didn’t you?”

He didn’t even try to deny it. “Maybe.”

She smiled sleepily. “That’s cute.”

“Eat first, then you can go back to calling me cute,” he said, offering his hand.

She took it, letting him pull her up, and as she followed him to the table, she realized something—

This felt dangerously close to home.

Cleo raised a brow as she took a seat, eyeing the spread in front of her. Jerk chicken, rice and peas, plantain, festival—it smelled divine.

“You an island boy?” she teased, picking up a fork.

Aaron smirked as he sat across from her. “Half. My mother’s Jamaican.”

She hummed, impressed. “That makes sense. You’ve got that quiet, mysterious, ‘I’ll protect you but I can also throw down in the kitchen’ energy.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “I can cook a little, but don’t gas me up just yet.”

Cleo took a bite of the jerk chicken and closed her eyes with a satisfied hum. “Well, if you did make this, I might have to wife you up immediately.”

Aaron’s smirk deepened. “Oh yeah? That easy?”

She pointed her fork at him. “Listen, a man who feeds me and looks good doing it? Dangerous combination.”

He leaned back in his chair, watching her with that unreadable expression she was still figuring out. “Noted.”

They ate in comfortable silence for a few moments before she spoke again.

“So, your dad’s the British side?” she asked.

He nodded. “Yeah. Met my mum in London, and the rest is history.”

“Did you grow up around a lot of Jamaican culture?”

Aaron smiled at the question. “Definitely. Mum made sure of it. Sunday dinners, reggae in the house, trips back to Jamaica whenever we could. It’s a big part of who I am.”

Cleo studied him, fascinated. She liked learning these little details about him, peeling back his layers one by one.

“Alright, serious question,” she said, putting down her fork. “What’s your go-to order at a Caribbean spot? ‘Cause this will determine whether or not I continue seeing you.”

Aaron chuckled, playing along. “Curry goat with rice and peas. Extra gravy. And a Ting to drink.”

She grinned. “Solid. I can respect that.”

He smirked. “I’m glad I passed your test.”

“Barely,” she teased. “One wrong move, and you would’ve been on thin ice.”

Aaron leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “And what’s your go-to order, then?”

She smirked. “Oxtail. If they don’t got oxtail, I don’t want it.”

He nodded, thoroughly impressed. “Respect.”

They fell into easy conversation again, talking about everything and nothing, the tension from earlier replaced by something warmer. Something deeper.

And as Aaron watched Cleo laugh over her plate, he realized—this wasn’t just casual anymore.

She was starting to feel like home.

After they finished eating, Aaron leaned back against the couch, watching Cleo with a relaxed expression. Without a word, he reached for her legs, pulling her feet into his lap.

She raised a brow. “Oh, so we’re at this level of comfort now?”

He smirked, his fingers tracing over her ankle before he started kneading the arch of her foot with practiced ease. “You’ve been traveling all day. Thought I’d help you relax.”

Cleo exhaled, sinking into the cushions. “You’re dangerous,” she murmured as his thumbs worked out the tension in her feet.

Aaron chuckled. “How so?”

“First, you feed me. Now, you’re out here giving foot rubs like some undercover masseuse?” She peeked at him through half-lidded eyes. “What’s next? You gonna run me a bath?”

He tilted his head, considering it. “Would that be a bad thing?”

Her stomach flipped at the thought. She wasn’t used to this—someone taking their time with her, doing things just because they wanted to. She’d been wined and dined before, but this? This was intentional.

She swallowed, trying to keep things light. “Nah, but if you keep this up, I might start expecting it.”

Aaron’s grip on her foot tightened slightly as he smirked. “Good.”

Her breath caught.

This man.

The way he said things so simply yet with so much weight.

She shook her head, fighting a smile. “You’re real smooth, you know that?”

He just shrugged, continuing his slow, deliberate massage. “Not my fault you like it.”

She sighed, giving in to the feeling. Maybe she did like it. Maybe she liked him more than she was willing to admit.

And as he kept working his hands over her skin, Cleo realized something—she didn’t want to leave London anytime soon.

“Now. All this and you haven’t even once said anything sexual.” She says. 

Aaron let out a low chuckle, his fingers still working over the curve of her foot. He glanced at her, amusement flickering in those hazel eyes.

“Didn’t think I had to,” he said smoothly. “You’re already melting in my hands.”

Cleo narrowed her eyes, but the smirk tugging at her lips betrayed her. “So, you do know what you’re doing.”

“Of course.” He ran his thumb along her ankle, the movement slow, deliberate. “But see, I’m not in a rush. I don’t have to say anything sexual to get under your skin.”

She exhaled, trying to fight the heat creeping up her neck. He was too good. Too confident in a way that wasn’t cocky, just… certain. Like he already knew how she’d react before she even did.

“So what is this then?” she challenged. “Some kind of seduction tactic?”

Aaron leaned back against the couch, never letting go of her foot. “Nah. Just me appreciating you.” He paused, letting his fingers trail just a little higher along her calf. “If that happens to turn you on, that’s a bonus.”

Cleo let out a slow breath. He wasn’t playing fair.

“Dangerous,” she murmured again.

Aaron smirked, his grip tightening slightly. “You keep calling me that like it’s a bad thing.”

She tilted her head. “It might be.”

His eyes locked onto hers, intense and unshaken. “Then why aren’t you running?”

Her heart pounded, but she refused to look away. Instead, she smiled, slow and knowing. “Who said I want to?”

Just like that, he kissed her.

No hesitation. No overthinking. Just action.

Aaron’s lips met hers in a way that felt deliberate—slow, controlled, but with a quiet intensity that sent heat rushing through her. His hand, still resting on her calf, slid up just a little, fingertips tracing over her skin like he was memorizing the feeling.

Cleo sighed against his lips, her own hands finding their way to his jaw, feeling the slight stubble beneath her palms. He kissed like he did everything else—patient, like he had all the time in the world. Like he wanted to take his time with her.

She let herself sink into it, tilting her head to deepen the kiss. His grip on her leg tightened, his other hand moving to her waist, pulling her just that much closer.

When they finally pulled apart, her breathing was uneven, her lips tingling. Aaron looked at her, his gaze dark, searching.

“So,” he murmured, thumb brushing against her waist. “Still think I’m dangerous?”

Cleo swallowed, trying to gather her thoughts, but the warmth of his touch and the weight of his stare made it impossible.

“Absolutely.”

His lips twitched. “And yet, you’re still here.”

She smirked, running a finger along his jawline. “Like I said… who said I want to run?”

“Just fuck me.” She whispered. Aaron’s gaze darkened, his grip on her tightening just slightly. He let out a slow breath, his jaw clenching like he was trying to maintain some semblance of control.

“You sure?” he murmured, his voice low, rough.

Cleo didn’t hesitate. She leaned in, her lips brushing against his as she whispered again, “Just fuck me.”

For a second, he just stared at her, like he was committing this moment to memory. Then, without another word, he scooped her up, hands firm as he carried her to the bedroom.

The night was just beginning.

Once he tossed her on the bed. He raised his arms to the top of the canopy looking her over.

Aaron stood at the edge of the bed, arms raised, gripping the top of the canopy frame as he looked her over. His hazel eyes were hooded, taking in the way she sprawled out beneath him, waiting.

Cleo propped herself up on her elbows, her breath uneven, but she wasn’t about to let him have all the control. “You just gonna stand there and admire, or…?” she teased, trailing a hand down her stomach.

His lips curled into a slow smirk, but he didn’t move just yet. “I like the view,” he murmured, his deep voice thick with heat. “But I think I’d like it even better up close.”

Then, finally, he moved.

He slowly arched her back.

Aaron’s hands slid down her spine, guiding her into the perfect arch. His fingers traced the curve of her back, his touch deliberate and teasing.

"That’s it, love," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "Just like that."

Cleo’s breath hitched as she felt his lips graze the back of her neck, his hands spreading over her hips, holding her in place. She turned her head slightly, meeting his gaze over her shoulder.

"You better not keep me waiting," she warned, her voice sultry yet impatient.

Aaron smirked, pressing a lingering kiss to her shoulder. "I wouldn’t dare."

Her moans filled the room as he found his rhythm, each deep thrust making her grip the sheets tighter. Aaron’s hands held her firmly, his grip possessive yet reverent.

“Damn, love,” he groaned, watching the way her body responded to him. “You feel so good.”

Cleo arched her back even more, pressing into him, meeting his every movement. “You always know how to get me like this,” she panted.

He leaned over her, his lips brushing against her ear. “That’s because I know this body like it’s mine.”

His strokes grew erratic, the intensity building as he chased both of their highs. Cleo’s moans became breathier, her fingers curling into the sheets as her body trembled beneath him.

“Aaron…” she gasped, her voice strained with pleasure.

“Shit, love,” he groaned, gripping her hips tighter, trying to hold on just a little longer. But the way she clenched around him made it impossible. His movements stuttered, his breath ragged as he reached his peak, burying himself deep with a final, shaky thrust.

He collapsed forward, pressing lazy kisses along her shoulder, both of them catching their breath. Cleo let out a blissful sigh, her body still humming from the aftermath.

-

“Is they why flew me out?” She asks

Aaron chuckled, low and deep, as he finally crawled onto the bed, settling between her legs. His hands skimmed over her thighs, slow and deliberate, his touch just enough to make her shiver.

“That why I flew you out?” he echoed, tilting his head as if considering it. His fingers pressed into her skin, firm but teasing. “Nah. I flew you out because I wanted you here.”

He leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. “But this?” He dragged his lips down to her neck, lingering just enough to make her breath hitch. “This is just a bonus.”

-

The next morning, Cleo was curled up under the covers, the soft warmth of the sheets wrapped around her. She stretched slightly, expecting the familiar ache from the night before—but to her surprise, she wasn’t sore.

She blinked, staring at the ceiling for a moment before shifting onto her side. Aaron was still beside her, lying on his stomach, his face turned toward her, the early morning light highlighting the sharp angles of his face. His lashes were long, his breathing even, his body relaxed.

She smirked to herself, trailing a finger lightly down his bare back. “Not bad, island boy,” she murmured under her breath.

Aaron stirred at the touch, his lips twitching into a lazy smirk before he cracked one eye open. “Not bad?” His voice was thick with sleep, rough in a way that sent a little thrill through her. “That’s all I get?”

Cleo bit her lip, playing with the edge of the sheet. “I mean… I expected to be sore.”

Aaron let out a low chuckle, shifting onto his side to face her. His fingers traced along her arm, lazy and unhurried. “That just means I took my time,” he murmured, eyes locked on hers. “But if you want to be sore…”

Her breath caught as he leaned in, lips brushing against her neck.

“…I can fix that.”

She wanted to push his limits. “How rough and primal can you get?” She asks.

Aaron’s sleepy smirk faded, replaced with something darker, more intense. His fingers, which had been tracing lazy circles on her skin, stilled. His hazel eyes locked onto hers, searching, assessing.

“You really wanna find out?” His voice was deeper now, rough like gravel, laced with something dangerous.

Cleo’s breath hitched, but she didn’t back down. Instead, she dragged a finger down his chest, her nails grazing his skin just enough to tease. “I can handle it.”

Aaron exhaled slowly, like he was holding something back. Then, in one swift motion, he flipped her onto her stomach, his body pressing against her from behind. His hand slid up the back of her neck, fingers threading into her hair as he tugged just enough to tilt her head to the side, his lips grazing her ear.

“You’re playing with fire, love,” he murmured, his accent thick, sending a shiver down her spine. His grip tightened slightly. “But if you really want rough and primal…” He nipped at the side of her neck, his free hand running down the curve of her back, pressing her into the mattress.

“…Then you better brace yourself.”

She let out a whimper. She upped the ante. “For someone who’s shy. You’re doing a lot of talking.” She says.

Aaron stilled for half a second, then let out a low, dangerous chuckle against her skin. “Oh, so that’s how you wanna play it?”

His grip in her hair tightened—not painful, but enough to let her know she was poking the beast. He shifted his weight, pressing her further into the mattress, his breath hot against the shell of her ear.

“You think ‘shy’ means soft?” he murmured, his voice a dark promise. His fingers dragged slowly down her spine, his touch featherlight before suddenly gripping her hip, keeping her exactly where he wanted her. “Nah, love. Shy just means I don’t give this side to everyone.”

He pressed a lingering kiss behind her ear before biting down just enough to make her gasp.

“But since you wanna see what I’m really like…” His lips curled into a smirk against her skin.

“…I hope you can keep up.”

-

She woke up hours later sore and confused.

Cleo blinked up at the ceiling, her body feeling like it had been put through a workout she hadn't trained for. Every muscle ached in the best way possible. She shifted slightly, wincing at the soreness in her thighs. Damn.

Her confusion set in when she realized she was alone. The sheets next to her were cool, and the space where Aaron had been was empty.

She sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes, trying to piece together the hours before she’d knocked out. The last thing she remembered was Aaron pushing her to her absolute limit—whispering things in that deep, accented voice that had her melting—and then…black.

A deep chuckle broke her out of her daze. She turned her head, finding Aaron leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching her with amused satisfaction.

“You good?” he asked, his voice laced with amusement. “You were out for a minute.”

Cleo scoffed, rolling her shoulders as she reached for the sheet to cover herself. “You didn’t have to break me.”

Aaron pushed off the doorframe and walked toward her, the lazy smirk never leaving his face. He leaned down, brushing his lips over hers before whispering, “You asked me to show you.”

She looks up at him. “How do you….how are you like a sexual perfectionist?” She asks.

Aaron let out a low chuckle, sitting on the edge of the bed, his fingers tracing absentminded circles on her thigh.

“Sexual perfectionist?” he mused, tilting his head. “That’s a new one.”

Cleo scoffed, pulling the sheet around her tighter. “I’m serious. You’re—” She gestured vaguely at him, still trying to wrap her head around the absolute way he had just wrecked her. “You know exactly what to do, when to do it, and how to make me damn near forget my own name. Like… how?”

Aaron’s smirk deepened, his hazel eyes darkening slightly. “Simple,” he said, running his fingers along the inside of her thigh just enough to make her shiver. “I listen. I watch. I learn.”

He leaned in, his voice dropping to that devastating low register. “Every sound you make, every way your body reacts—I take notes. And then, I apply them.”

Cleo swallowed, her breath hitching as she held his gaze. “That’s…lowkey terrifying.”

Aaron grinned. “Terrifyingly good.” He kissed the side of her neck, his hand still lazily tracing her thigh. “But if you’re saying I’ve ruined you for anyone else…” He pulled back just enough to look at her, his expression turning serious.

“…Then good.”

She smiles. “Now. Can I that warm bath?” She asks.

Aaron chuckled, shaking his head as he stood up. “Yeah, yeah. I got you.”

He walked over to the en-suite bathroom, and moments later, she heard the sound of water running. The scent of eucalyptus and vanilla filled the air as he added something to the bath—probably one of his expensive oils.

Cleo stretched before standing, wincing slightly. Yep. Sore. She shuffled toward the bathroom, where Aaron stood, rolling up the sleeves of his sweater.

He looked up at her, smirking. “Need help getting in?”

She narrowed her eyes. “I can manage.”

He stepped aside, gesturing toward the tub like a gentleman. “Go on then.”

Cleo dipped a toe into the warm water and sighed. “Oh, this is nice.” She slid in slowly, letting the heat soothe her muscles.

Aaron crouched beside the tub, resting his arms on the edge. “Told you I’d take care of you.”

She smiled, sinking deeper into the water. “I could get used to this.”

Aaron’s eyes softened as he watched her. “Then do.”

-

Over the next couple of days she fell more in love with him. 

Each day with Aaron felt effortless. The kind of easy, natural connection she hadn’t realized she was craving until she had it.

Mornings started with slow kisses and whispered jokes, his deep voice still laced with sleep. Afternoons were spent exploring London—sometimes in the open, sometimes in the quiet corners of the city where no one would recognize them. He took her to his favorite spots, the ones he kept to himself, letting her into his world in ways that felt more intimate than any touch.

Nights? Nights were their own kind of magic. Some filled with heated passion, others with soft laughter and tangled limbs under the sheets, talking about everything and nothing.

It was the way he looked at her when he thought she wasn’t paying attention. The way he always made sure she was on the inside of the sidewalk. The way he would absentmindedly rub circles on the back of her hand when they held hands.

She was falling. Hard.

And for the first time in a long time, Cleo wasn’t afraid to admit it—to herself, at least.

One night she was half sleep on his chest. Content.

Aaron’s fingers traced slow, absentminded patterns along her back. The steady rise and fall of his chest beneath her was comforting, lulling her deeper into that hazy space between wakefulness and sleep.

“You’re really comfortable, you know that?” she murmured, voice heavy with exhaustion.

He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. “Glad to be of service.”

Cleo sighed, nuzzling closer. “Don’t get cocky.”

“No promises.” His hand slid up to cradle the back of her head, his touch light, protective.

Silence settled between them, but it wasn’t awkward. It was warm, familiar, like they had done this a thousand times before.

Then, in a voice so quiet she almost didn’t hear it, he said, “I like having you here.”

Her heart skipped.

She didn’t respond right away—mostly because she wasn’t sure she trusted her voice. Instead, she squeezed his side gently, hoping he understood.

But Aaron wasn’t one to let things go so easily. “You hear me?”

“Mhm.”

“You gonna say something back?”

She lifted her head slightly, eyes meeting his in the dim light. “I like being here.”

His lips quirked into that small, knowing smile. “Good.”

She laid back down, content in a way she hadn’t been in a long time..

“How do you like my city?” He asks.

She hummed, still half-asleep, her fingers lazily tracing along his chest. “It’s beautiful. Cold as hell, but beautiful.”

Aaron chuckled, his hand sliding up and down her back. “That’s London for you. Can’t promise sunshine, but it has its charm.”

She smirked, tilting her head to look up at him. “It definitely has its charm.”

His brow raised slightly, catching the way she was looking at him. “Oh yeah?”

“Mhm.” She nestled closer, sighing contentedly. “I like the views.”

He smirked. “The city’s views or…?”

She rolled her eyes playfully. “Don’t get a big head.”

He let out a deep laugh, pulling her even closer. “Too late.”

She shook her head but didn’t fight it. Being here, in his arms, in his city—it felt right. And that realization both excited and terrified her.

“Do you want to go back stateside?” He asks.

Cleo exhaled slowly, her fingers still idly tracing over his chest. She knew the question was coming, but hearing it out loud made her stomach tighten.

“I mean… eventually, yeah,” she admitted. “My work is there. My life is there.”

Aaron nodded, his expression unreadable. “Makes sense.”

She studied his face, searching for something—hesitation, disappointment, anything—but he was as calm as ever. “Why? You thinking of sending me off already?” she teased, trying to lighten the mood.

His hand slid up to her chin, tilting her face toward his. “Not at all,” he murmured. “Just wondering if I should start finding reasons to make you stay.”

Her breath hitched.

For a man so private, so seemingly reserved, Aaron had a way of saying things that knocked the air right out of her lungs.

“You’re serious?” she whispered.

His hazel eyes locked onto hers, and the weight of his gaze made her heart race. “I don’t say things I don’t mean.”

Cleo swallowed. She should’ve known better than to think this was just some fleeting moment for him. Aaron wasn’t the type to waste time—if he was saying this, it meant something.

And now, she had to ask herself—did she want to stay?

Tags 🏷️

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @avoidthings @nayesworld @haechvn @writingsbytee @grlsbstshot @ovohanna24 @skvrpion @megamindsecretlair @kimuzostar @kenshisluvrgirl @planetblaque @bimbosnbutterflies2026 @chewingmy3xtragum @easybrezzy @blowmymbackout @melaninpov @todorokishoe24 @chaoticcoffeequeen @brattyfics @notapradagurl7 @gopaperless @jenlovey @nikkinik @novahreign @violetmuses @fakxmbj

[abyssalmermaiden]

The loneliness never left me I always took it with me

But I can put it down in the pleasure of your company

Rowan: @tallbluelady

Myth: @mythandral

Yloise: @yloiseconeillants

A'eris: @epicseagull1

Ancel & Osi: @hermits-hovel

Raer & Joda: @azure-dragonsinger

Muireann and Sami: @whatsthisascianbullshit

Gale: @galewhaleshark

[catenary-chad]

Stex characters and what plants I think they’d like

Choo choos (and Porter): 300+ year old ancient ones like horsetails, clubmosses, and early trees, especially when heavily compressed, AKA COAL

Greaseball: the plastic kind

Electra: I’m torn between something weird and unintuitive but deceptively easy like orchids or airplants, or being one of those intense African violet/general gesneriad fans who preach about how actually cool and deceptively easy they are.  I can see them being great at keeping bizarre mutant versions of “fussy Grandma plants” like gloxinias alive despite rarely touching grass.

COACHES

Pearl: String of Pearls is an obvious one.  Probably cute pink/purple succulents in general.  

Dinah: anything edible.  From normal herbs and veggies to pereskioid cacti.  

Buffy: anything produced via atomic gardening.  She sticks props and seedlings in repurposed food containers.

Ashley: wants to believe the plants praised for air filtering abilities actually work.  Leans into her very 70s interior design preferences anyways.  

Carrie: I think she’s fascinated by the logistics of plant smuggling more than anything

Belle (OLC)- Cast iron plant, VERY durable, very old school, very low light. Can also see poppies (wizard of oz lol) or roses. 

Tassita: plants are quiet enough in general, I don’t think he has a preference

Belle (Bar)- still patiently waiting for her agave to grow enough to make tequila… it’s gonna be a while

Belle(Wembley)- balloon flowers and campanulas in general.  No strong reasons besides aesthetics and vibes

FREIGHT

Dustin- anything called a “living rock”.  I think he’d be very good at keeping even the too-hardy-for-their-own-good ones alive

Flat-Top- dandelions.  Any kind of sidewalk crack weeds.  He will defend their honor with his life.

Rockies/Hoppers- Sempervivums.  There’s lots of them and they come in many colors and grow in rock gardens.  

Caboose- Castor bean plant.  Anything horribly toxic you’re allowed to just casually grow.

Slick- corn, maybe sunflowers.  Yellow oil-bearing plants.  Also probably plastic plants in general

Lumber- oh come on isn’t it obvious?

Hydra- BIONIC.  DUCKWEED.  maybe aquatic plants in general.

COMPONENTS

Volta- cold hardy cacti because she’s vaguely associated with the southwest US.  If they can’t survive the winter, they are not worthy.  

Joule- anything that looks like it has teeth.  Can’t keep any of them alive.

Krupp- caudex plants that are dormant half the year.  All meticulously labelled.  He still loves them when they look like lumps.  

Purse- Silver dollar vine.  High value dischidia and hoyas, which he sells snip snips of to enthusiasts under the table

Wrench- Aloes

Killerwatt- stripey things like zebra plants and tradescantia

NATIONALS

Shinkansen- I’ll go with astrophytum cacti because they’re specifically popular in Japan.  Also the obvious cherry blossoms.  

Ruhrgold- I feel like Germany is disproportionately into “jungle cacti” like rhipsalis and epiphyllums.  All meticulously labelled because that was a consistant theme at botanical gardens there.  

British engine- anything that flowers in fall or winter.  Christmas/Easter cacti that flower out of season.  Better late than never.  Maybe English ivy.  

Bobo- likes autumn leaves because they’re ORANGE.  Any brightass orange flowers in general

Coco- coconut trees because they bonk people on the head and fucking kill them 

Expresso- Tomato plants and olive trees. 

Turnov- Conifers, taiga trees and plants in general

(Not into Wembley enough to have stuff for their champion engines)

[carsthatnevermadeitetc]

The Taxi Project 1976: Steam Power Systems New York Taxi Prototype. A taxi concept for the MoMA commission made from aluminium for lightweight and resembling a small bus which provided plenty of interior space and easy access for wheelchairs. Propulsion was via a rear-mounted steam engine and the driver was protected by a bulletproof partition.

[livhuh]

daddies..

[hermits-hovel]

while they're on my mind, here's a handful of Raer/Ancel drawings I've done over the months (the ones that are. presentable akjfghad.)

Raer belongs to @azure-dragonsinger :>

[tallbluelady]

For the screenshot meme: 🏔

"It's a lovely view up here."

"...I didn't realize how much of my love of Sharlyan came from it being Urianger's home."

"I miss him so much."

"It makes perfect sense that you'd miss Urianger..."

"Don't worry... It's love that'll get us through this, I know it."

(Raer is @azure-dragonsinger)

[anarkhebringer]

I had a sudden hit of art hubris and have been meaning to draw this fella for a long while.

Raer here belongs to @azure-dragonsinger, I hope I did him justice sjidhufyg

[yassbishimvintage]

Mentally I’m still here

[some-person-87]

Raer

[alex15-zb]

–Rus: !предупреждение! Приветствуют маты!

Eng: !warning! Welcome mats!

–––––––––––––––––––––––——————

Raer: can you run?~

MC:

–––––––––––––––––––––––——————

Raer: Stop b*tch, faggot mammal! Stop f*cking!

[jaycesirlgf]

what if the real geordi comebakx was rhe friends ww mase along the way

oh my god this is so insightful...

[tallbluelady]

Between the puppy dog eyes that Lyse was giving her and all the work Raer (@azure-dragonsinger) put in to alter the dress, Rowan couldn't very well refuse to wear it.

[greater-amaurot-polycule]

just so we're all clear, the island sanctuary is just ariadne's family's dacha and the gap is invited uwu (bonus kyth @mythandral and minthe @tallbluelady)

[goblinpriest0102]

Little children! Don't go for a walk in BTD for anything in the world! in Bleating Mule Strade, Raer in the jazz bar, in the nightclub, the two-faced and scary Sano and Akira will fuck, beat and insult you - don't go for a walk in BTD!

Маленькие дети! Ни за что на свете не ходите в БТД гулять! в Ревущем муле Стрейд,в джаз-баре Раер, в ночном клубе двуличные и страшные Сано и Акира будут вас ебать, бить и обижать - не ходите дети в БТД играть

[hyecngyu]

frunce el ceño por un instante ' si las luces está encendidas ¿por que no puedo entrar aquí? ' interroga al contrario sin problema, tenía sus razones de poner un pie en el local, pero prefería molestar. ' más importante si no puedo entrar ¿por que estaba abierta la puerta? ' @siddhcrths

"¿qu- sé que las luces están encendidas, pero no puedes entrar aquí"