#also do you know what i would give to see mac in the reindeer suit? so fuckin much man. so much

[daltonsnightmare]

MacGyver (2016) s2e11 Bullet + Pen | Cold Open

[jj-lynn21]

Santa’s favorite Elf Part 2:  Ch 5:

Warnings: male masturbation, hot tub flirtation, other flirtation. Can Bill handle “being friends” before lovers again very much longer?

Santa’s fav elf Part 1: ch 1, Santa’s fav elf ch 2, Santa’s fav elf ch 3, Santa’s fav elf ch 4

Santa’s fav Elf Part 2 ch 1, ch 2, ch 3  ch 4 ​ ch6

“You can go faster.” You scream with laughter as you sped across the open snow-covered valley on a snowmobile. “Catch up already.”  

Bill sped to your side jumping a mogul on his machine that put him ahead of you. “What did you say?” He yelled back at you. “Something about you will try to catch up if you can.” His competitive side was not going to let you win a race back to the rental place easily if at all.   

You put the pedal to the metal. Your machine right on the tail of his. You were sweating underneath your hat and heavy clothes. But your eyelashes had snow built upon them. Your nose was red with frost. You were ready for some hot tub time. Gunning the throttle, you ran neck and neck with him. You both slid in opposite directions towards the sign that said stop.     

“I guess you don’t have any fear driving these things.” He got off as two workers came over to drive the snowmobiles into their parking shed.   

You got off the machine. Thighs were a bit sore from having them spread over the seat. Your legs a bit like rubber as you wobbled a little. “No fear at all. Can we go to the hot tub now? I can barely walk normally.”  

“I could use some heating up myself.” He walked you to the rental SUV. “I turned on the heat with the keys when we pulled in on the snowmobiles so it should be about heated up. Do you want to stop at the wiener hut? I heard they have a mac and cheese hotdog.”  

“I’ll eat anything with lots of cheese especially mac and cheese.” He helped you into the SUV.   

Bill chuckled. “That is what I thought.” He patted your hand before driving off to grab lunch.  

Later you were immersed in the hot tub. The area closed off to others for the next half hour. You sat with your head back. A smile on your face as the steam rose. Your frozen toes and nose were now thawed. You breathed in the chlorinated steam clearing your sinuses. You let out a long “mmmmmm” as you relaxed. 

Bill was doing much the same. His eyes were closed. That is until he heard your sound of pleasure. One eye popped open. Then the other. He looked over barely able to see you through the heat. The heat he felt deeper than just his skin. “Hey come over here.” he beckoned.  

You glide over on the water. You ducked your head under to flatten your hair back when you get close enough for him to reach out to you. “This warmed me up quite a bit. How about you?” Your eyes connected with his in a slight flutter of flirtation.  

“Yeah.” His eyes gazed into yours then drifted down over your flattering bathing suit that clung to your breasts. He took a deep breath. “Can I hold you?” 

“If you can handle it.” You grinned.  

He smirked as he pulled you forward. Your eyes on his. Your knees rested on the ledge on either side of his lap. You held on to the wall behind him making sure not to touch him at all. You thought if he was going to break his own rule you were not going to make it easy.  

“Is this how close we will be when we fake it for the camera tomorrow?” You teased. 

“Closer.” He licked his lips. “We will kiss as we have done before.” 

You leaned down to press your lips to him gently before pulling back. “Like that?” You tiled your head questioningly.  

“I think our characters miss each other more.”  

One of his large hands rested on your lower back. The other crept up your back, along your neck, pushing his fingers through your hair until he was palming the back of your head. He coaxed you back down for a more passionate kiss opening his mouth and you reciprocated. You could feel it through your whole body letting out a small moan you did not want to make.  

He pulled you back. His eyes sparkled with lust. The rest of his face placid as if it was all part of the job. “Something like that.” He breathed. “They will stop use several times to position us differently. Do you want to go over your lines and more of this scene back in the room?” 

“I do know my lines but maybe you can give me some pointers.” You suggest. “Work on this scene more also if you think we need it.” 

“It is never good to go in blind.” He moved you to get up. “It is best to be as prepared as possible.” 

“I agree.” He helped you step out of the hot tube wrapping you in a blanket like towel.  

You go into the changing room to dry off. The hair drier there is weak but it is better than nothing. You don’t want to go out in the freezing weather without being as dry as possible. You try to convince yourself you will only be studying lines and working on blocking scenes like they are in the script, but the process excites you.  

Bill is feeling some excitement of his own as he dries his hair. His mind might be telling him to get to know you better, but his body is showing signs of dissension. He decides to rub one out before leaving the changing area. They have a nice bathroom with comforting aquamarine tile. He closes his eyes as he takes his throbbing cock out to stroke. Thinking of.. ”oh fuck” the way the water rolled off your nose to the cleavage of your swimsuit. The way you giggled. The way you looked when you got mad. The way you called him out when he needed it as no one had ever done. How would he ever be able to hold back his desires much longer he thought as he bit his bottom lip so he would not come loudly. 

You waited for Bill patiently near the check-in desk. People were waiting for the pool and hot tub to be open for the general public again which  was supposed to be five minutes ago. Bill came out wrapped in his winter wear. The scarf around his face barely showed even his eyes. It was a way to hide from the public. You knew it was him. He nodded for you to come to the SUV with him. You told the desk clerk thank you for letting you and Bill use the hot tub alone. Then went to join him. 

“Which scene do you think we should go over first?” You asked as he started the vehicle.  

“Do you want suggestions on your big monologue?” He watched the snow-covered road without a glance towards you. 

“Sure.” You turned on the radio and hummed the song playing until it got to the chorus you knew well. Then you sang along.  

Bill just started smiling as you sang. When you noticed your cheeks got hot with embarrassment.  

“Keep going.” He prodded as you got quiet. “The chorus isn’t over yet.” 

You laugh. “I don’t know it that well.” 

He pulled into the hotel. Ease's car rental would pick up the SUV Monday and drop it back in the parking lot Friday evening for Bill to use on the weekends. Joe would drive during the week. After he stripped to his briefs, he jumped in the bed cupping his hands behind his head. 

“Show me how you will bring Santa back Miss. Winterblows.”  

You smirk. Your eyes narrowed as you wrapped your arms around an invisible caldron for your wintertime spell. You carried it across the room as though walking through the winter’s snow. You look up and back down into the mouth of the caldron. Then toss the invisible bag of ingredients beside you. 

“As the bright lights in the skies above as my witness, my Santa will return on this night to seek revenge on those who dared to slander his name and kill him before last Christmas morn. Snow is falling. Christmas Eve is near, There's plenty of magic this time of year.” 

You pretend to dust the caldron with snow and add a handful inside. You keep adding ingredients as you speak. 

“I give to thee freshly fallen snow. A splash of brandy to let spirits flow. I made fresh cookies so into the pot they must go to bring Santa forth. A carrot and orange with colors so bright to feed the reindeer pulling his sleigh tonight. I stir it, please come to me Santa, please come.”  

Your eyes look to Bill, big saucers of freight. You bow to him with a smile. “That’s the first part of the scene. What do you think?” 

“You did that good.” He got up. “Maybe try it bigger. I mean more chanting than conversational. It was sexy how you said it in a lower tone. And I’m not sure they will want you to go bigger, but it is best to have a few different ways to present the material in your back pocket. I always go big first before they calm me down.” He chuckled. “You might want to try it just how you did it first. They will love you have it memorized so well.” 

‘I will probably fuck up a billion times tomorrow in front of the camera.” You tense up a little at the thought. “It will be a little different with all the props and when to pick up what as I am saying the lines, and everyone is watching.”  

“Just stay in the scene,” Bill suggested. “Let the character guide you not the people around the set. They don’t even really exist in the world we will create on film.”  

You nod.  

“Now take a breath.” He took a breath with you. “Do it again. I will come in when Santa makes his appearance. The big fearful eyes worked great. I am not as holly jolly as I once was in the first movie. I think your expression will be much like you just gave me.” 

You repeated your monologue giving that big, frightened look towards him as he stood feet away. “...please come to me Santa, please come.” 

He took a few steps as your eyes were pinned to his. “Santa” You whispered. His (cold dead: the script says) hands reach out for you. You look away. He turns your eyes back on him. Your heart races as it should be according to the script. You cringe as Santa’s tongue licks the side of your face. Bill does this even though the tongue will be a little bit of CGI magic.  

You gasp even though you want to giggle. You close your eyes. The character is supposed to remember Santa as he was and kiss him passionately. You kiss Bill which is much easier than the grotesque dead zombie Santa he will become on set. He kisses you back as his hands reach behind your head to grab your hair roughly. He pulls your head back for his lips to graze and suck at your neck as you make a small coo.  

Bill steps back taking a deep breath as he muttered “cut.”  

You open your eyes standing before him. Chest heaving slightly.  

Bill gazes at you as he licks his lips. “In the script, they cut there to Santa and his girl fucking in the snow. We can do some basic blocking since I have done this before or wait until they tell us how they want it tomorrow?” 

“Teach me everything you know, Bill.” You bite your lips nervously. 

“Take off everything but your panties.” He swallows hard. “I will teach you everything you always want to know about filming a sex scene and more.

[excindrela]

12 Days of Demon Ayno -Day 9 (18+)

Supernatural AU

Pairing: demon! Ayno (Noh YoonHo) VAV / Female reader

Genre: Fluff/ Angst/ Smut

Warnings: Cussing, alcohol consumption, fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it before you snap it!)

Word Count: 5031 (...I did not mean to write War & Peace...)

AU: OMG DAY 9 IS FINALLY DONE! (So I guess we’re having Christmas in July)  I’m sorry this one took so long. I knew where we needed to go, I just couldn’t get there. Good news: Day 10 is started, Day 12 is done! (We might skip 11) I have also started NYE & Lunar New Year (I’m writing all of them simultaneously) I love feedback- so if there’s something you like, or something you want to see- tell me!! Thanks to everyone who has stuck around! Special thanks to @quyennie​ for being my editor!!

Demon Ayno: Summoned, Thanksgiving, 12 Days: Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7 | Day 8 | Day 9 | Day 10 | Day 11| Day 12 | NYE | Lunar New Year

On the 9th Day of Christmas: You Took Ayno to the Office Holiday Party

It was a little after three thirty when you came through the apartment door wearing baggy sweats, a zip up hoodie with nothing but a tank underneath, fuzzy flip-flop slippers, and no gloves. Even with the calf length down coat on you were freezing, but you couldn’t risk wrecking your once a winter pedi and once a year mani. Even though the heater was on and it hit you like a blast furnace the minute you came in, you were still shivering.

“Ayno? Are you here? I’m home.” The question was rhetorical. You knew your beautiful demon was there somewhere because the TV was set to a music channel playing Christmas standards, and something smelled good.

Ayno came striding out of the kitchen. “Good. I have made you lunch.��, he said as he took your coat. Like a typical human male, he paid no attention to your fancy nails and hair and instead focused on your outfit. “Why are you dressed so inappropriately for the weather?! You will catch a chill and die, and I will have to go back to being a…what was it you called me?”

“Interdimensional hooker. What are we having?”

“Macaroni and cheese. I am told that this food brings comfort, and you seem very agitated today.” He said as he bent down and wrapped his arms around your legs just below your butt and carried you into the kitchen.

“Out of the box?”

“Is what out of what box?” he looked around confused as he deposited you onto a barstool.

“Lunch.”

“Why would macaroni and cheese be in a box? Cheese must be kept cold.”

“You know- the blue box? With the orange powdered cheese? It’s like its own food group.”

Ayno looked horrified. “I do not know what kind of witchcraft would be necessary to turn cheese into an orange powder, but it should not be trusted and I do not know why you would dare to consume it.”

You privately thought he was missing out. Instead, he removed a baking dish from the oven with cavatappi noodles he had baked with some mixture of cream and cheeses and topped with panko breadcrumbs. He dished out a large helping and retrieved a bowl of salad from the fridge and set it next to the mac & cheese. You took a bite…it was creamy and cheesy and delicious…and you were so not hungry.

“It’s delicious, but not exactly cocktail dress friendly.”

Ayno frowned. “You did not eat breakfast. Now you do not want lunch. You are…stressed” he said, happy that he remembered the right word. He moved around behind you, fastening his lips to your neck and slipping a hand inside your jacket to fondle your breast through the thin tank. “You do not smell right…too much cortisol…” he said as his lips worked their way toward your ear. “If you do not do something to relax, then I will have to make you relax.” He gently threatened as his thumb flicked over your erect nipple.

You sighed and closed your eyes, “Ayno, so help me God, if you ruin a $60 hairstyle before I get to that party, I swear I will pour holy water over your head myself!” you gritted out through clenched teeth.

He wisely released you; then reached over and picked up the glass of water above your plate, and poured it out in the sink while muttering something that sounded like “I’d like to see you try it” under his breath, before going to the fridge, grabbing the open bottle of wine, removing the cork with his teeth, filling the glass and setting it in front of you.

He stepped back and looked meaningfully from the glass to your face and back again. You took the hint and drained half the glass in three gulps. Ayno refilled it.

He moved back to your side and picked up a forkful of mac & cheese and held it up to your lips. You obediently opened your mouth and took the bite. “We should not go to this party if it is making you this unhappy”, he said gently rubbing your back.

You placed your forehead carefully against his chest. “Oh Ayno – I don’t mean to be like this to you. Yes, you are right, I am stressed. The Office Christmas Party is one of my least favorite nights of the year. But this is one of those weird human social things that you have to attend even though you don’t want to.”

He continued rubbing your back comfortingly. “I will stay home if it will make you less worried.”

You put your arms around his waist and looked up into his concerned eyes. “Not a chance. Having you as my date is the one thing I’m looking forward to about tonight.”

*          *          *

You came through the doors of your building at 7:41 and the Atrium was already packed with people and the party was in full swing. Ayno slid your coat from your shoulders and went to take it and your bag to the coat check. Meanwhile, you glanced around and saw Tenley & Kara leaning against the wall by the elevator bank and headed straight over.

“Hey!” “There you are!” They called as you trotted over as fast as the slippery soles of your strappy sandals would allow. You all engaged in the typical “girl hug” that involved leaning over with your butt sticking out and the bare minimum of contact while patting the other’s back.

“Cute dress Ten!” you said. “Thanks! I was accused of being boring by Danielle, so I decided to embrace my ethnicity!” she replied, smoothing the peony embroidered satin of her mandarin collared mini-qi pao. “But it’s still black. Festive is Kara’s job.”

“What? It’s still a neutral! Just because I refuse to join the sea of black dresses with you two…” she retorted, giving her hips a little shake that made the silver beaded dress shimmy with her.

“I like it Kara! Perfect for New Year’s Eve too!” you supported.

“Right?! Kill two parties with one dress!” she affirmed.

“I thought Ayno was coming tonight?”, Tenley questioned.

“Oh, he’s here. He’s just dropping my things at coat check.”

Then Kara’s brain caught up with the conversation and she turned to Tenley looking confused “Danielle? From the Data Matrixing dept. called you boring? They only have one ‘Danielle’, right?”

At that, Tenley launched into her story the way only catty girlfriends can about another woman throwing them shade. She was just wrapping it up when you noticed Kara’s attention had been diverted.

“I don’t know what department that belongs in, but whatever it is, I will find out, and then I am transferring there whether I have the requisite skill and experience or not.” Kara said, her gaze never wavering.

You understood. You smiled at the tall, well-built man that had captured her attention, his fire engine red suit tapered from his broad shoulders to nip in at his slender waist and the pants caressed his muscular thighs. A black mesh shirt peeked out from underneath the jacket and was accented with a couple silver chains at his throat. He was stunning – and oblivious to the attention he was garnering: wide eyed open mouth stares from the ladies and looks of undisguised envy from the men. He glanced around and spying your little group he made his way over with four filled champagne flutes tucked between his long fingers. He handed out the champagne, gave a blinding smile and said “Hi!”  

Kara giggled. You just shook your head. Tenley took command of the conversation. “Hi Ayno. It’s good to see you again. I like your suit! It’s a much better look on you than the reindeer sweater.”

“Thank you, I think so too. It itches less. Although, it does not have lights like the sweater, so I think it is unlikely I will win a prize. I think you look better too.”

You laughed. “Kara, this is my boyfriend, Ayno. Ayno, this is Kara- she’s our department assistant.” “Which means she’s the only one who has any idea what’s going on.” Tenley supplied as Ayno, excited to once again be practicing traditional human greetings, extended his hand to Kara.

Kara shook his hand and then downed the whole glass in one gulp. You followed suit, and then handed the glasses back to Ayno. “Will you be a love and go get us 2 more?”, you asked him sweetly. He bent down until his face was even with yours. “Please?” you smiled at him. He smiled back, “Yes Mistress. I am always happy to serve you”, he whispered as he planted a quick kiss on your lips and then turned on his heel and headed to the champagne fountain.

“Ho-lee crap!” Kara said to no one in particular. She looked at Tenley, “You said he was hot, you didn’t say he was the male equivalent of a Victoria’s Secret angel.”

You snickered at the idea of Ayno being an angel of any kind. Kara turned slowly and looked at you. “He’s cute? He’s tall? I love his smile? Seriously??? How about he’s breathtaking and sexy as fuck??”

You laughed. “Sorry Kara. After my last boyfriend…I just sort-of downplay things now. And yes, Ayno is breathtaking…sometimes I think people look at us together and wonder what a man like that is doing with me.”

“Whatever! He’s with you, right? And he doesn’t seem to be going anywhere.” She grabbed your arms and turned you to face her, “Please tell me he has a single brother?” she mock pleaded.

“Actually, he has six brothers.”

Both of them stared at you wide eyed. “SIX BROTHERS?” they chorused in unison. “Are they all single and do they all look like him? I just want one.” Kara said. “Yeah, one for you & one for me” Tenley agreed.

“I don’t know, I’ve never seen them. But they’re…uh…adopted, so I’m not sure what they look like.”

“Well, you clearly hit the jackpot on this one. He’s gorgeous and seems totally devoted.” Kara said with a touch of envy.

“I know, right? I want a man who follows me around and does whatever I say without question while looking at me adoringly too.” Tenley agreed.

The conversation was halted by the ding of the elevator doors opening to reveal a couple of drunk colleagues from accounting stumbling out tipsy and looking slightly disheveled. They looked around nervously before slipping back into the crowd. “Like we didn’t all know about that…” Tenley said rolling her eyes.

You were glad the conversation shifted away from Ayno. Not only was answering questions about him like walking through a mine field, but something about the champagne or the girl’s words had made you uneasy. You didn’t doubt Ayno truly had feelings for you, but you sometimes wondered if he would stay if he had a choice. Did he only stay with you because he had to? Was this like Stockholm Syndrome where you fall in love with your captor as a coping mechanism?  Was he devoted because he had to be, not because he wanted to?

Your thoughts were interrupted by Ayno’s arrival with more champagne. You took the glass he offered, and then turned away to eye the crowd- causing Ayno to frown slightly. Kara, emboldened by the alcohol now coursing through her veins, pounced on him in full getting-to-know-you mode. Normally you would have jumped in and changed the subject, or answered for him, but you were so edgy you decided to just let him handle it. If he freaked out, transformed into his natural form, and rained hellfire on the building then so be it. You still listened with half an ear, proud that he remembered the answers you had practiced to common personal questions.

Your sudden coolness was not lost on Tenley. Sensing that Ayno might need to be rescued from Kara, and the two of you might need a moment, she nudged you, “Hey. Have you shown Ayno our floor yet?”

You looked at her with something between distain and annoyance. “No. I can’t imagine why Ayno would want to see our cubicle farm.”

“Nope. You don’t get a choice. It’s an unwritten rule that all new significant others must get a tour of the prison cells at their first Christmas Party, so they have a frame of reference for stories of office shenanigans and sympathy for the conditions we are suffering in when we have to work late”, she said matter-of-factly. With that, she punched the elevator button, snagged your champagne glass, and shoved you in when the doors opened, Ayno following right behind you trying not to laugh. The last thing you saw was her giving you a cheesy grin and a wave of her waggled fingers.

The elevator ride to the 9th floor was quick but felt like an eternity with the two of you standing in silence, you just out of Ayno’s reach. You walked at the same speed you did during your workday, lengths ahead of Ayno who strolled along behind you down the hall past the conference and break rooms, eventually arriving at the center of the floor full of cubicles.

“This is it.” You sighed, bored.

Ayno nodded. “I have seen this before.”

“Someone summoned you to their office building?”

“No. Purgatory. There are several levels that look just like this. I recommend avoiding it.” He paused, “Which chamber is yours?”

You started walking and Ayno followed you to your desk. “This is it. This is where I spend most of my day”, you said gesturing to your glass walled box full of pre-fab office furniture.

Ayno stepped inside and sat in your chair. You were surprised how normal he looked sitting there, as though you might have come around the corner and found your handsome coworker at his desk.

While you absentmindedly stared off into space, he took in your workspace, thinking to himself that it was rather like a cage, and feeling sorry that you spent so many hours there. He smiled when he saw that the one truly personal thing on your desk was a small photo of the two of you.

Knowing Ayno would follow, you slowly began strolling out of the maze of cubicles, idly wondering how much longer you’d have to stay at the party for people to consider it an “appearance” and what you needed to do to give the impression that you had had a good time.

“What is this place?” you heard Ayno’s voice behind you as he stuck his head into an open doorway.

“That’s the break room.”

“Ah!”, Ayno said with comprehension, “The domain of Cody the Coffee Snob and Amber the Refrigerator Nazi!” You almost laughed– he always asked how your day was when you came home, and you were impressed he had paid attention to your rambling stories about office drama …but it made you feel even less worthy of him. “Was the identity of the Lean Cuisine thief ever discovered?”, he asked as he continued to follow you.

“Nope. It remains a mystery.”

“What is this place?” he asked stepping into yet another doorway.

You followed him. “This is the conference room. We come in here when we have important things to discuss. That triangle thing in the middle of the table lets us watch Power Points, call other offices, make announcements…or sometimes we just use the table and talk.”

You turned to leave, but the door slammed shut. You didn’t need to ask how. Taking a deep breath, you turned and walked back to your waiting demon.

“What is wrong?”

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong- I’m fine.”

“No. Something is very wrong. You have stopped speaking to me. You are not looking at me. You are pushing me away”, he paused looking sad and confused “What did I do wrong? Please tell me, because I do not know.”

You sighed. “Nothing…you haven’t done anything wrong – I swear…I was just thinking about things the girls said to me and about you being with me…it just made me question whether you would be here if you had a choice.”

Ayno slipped a hand around your waist and pulled you against his body, his other hand tipping your chin up to look him in the eyes. “Do you really doubt my feelings for you?” he asked gently.

You looked into his deep eyes and shook your head, “No, I believe your feelings are very real. I just wonder if you would choose to be with me if you had another option.”

Surprisingly, Ayno smiled. He gave a small laugh and a little shake of his head, “How old am I?”

“Uh…Eight hundred and…something…”

“Fourty-four.” He supplied.  “You are not my first patron. I have had so many masters and mistresses in these years that I lost track long ago. You are not the first to want to keep me…but you are the only one I have ever stayed with. I assure you that if I wanted to leave, I could make your life so miserable that you would release me and beg me to be gone.”

Then he threaded his fingers into your fancy hair and pulled your face to his. He kissed you hard, tongue pillaging your mouth as he pressed his body tightly against yours. He backed you up until your butt hit the conference table, and then lifted you slightly so you were sitting on it. He finally released your mouth and dove straight for your neck. “No! Ayno! What are you doing?” He pulled his head up and looked at you with eyes so deep they bordered on maroon, “This is a conference room. We are having a conference. Apparently, I need to explain to you again how much I want you. That I will willingly be your slave until the end of time. That I am wholly yours…not just because you keep me, but because I choose to be. So, I’d start taking notes, Mistress, because I am going to fuck you until you get the memo.”

With that he pushed you down on to the table and resumed his attack on your neck. You could feel the heat of his mouth even as the cold of the glass covering the table penetrated your thin dress. You shivered, unsure if it was from that or Ayno’s sudden aggression.

Ayno put one knee up onto the table and pressed his other thigh against your waiting heat as he continued sucking harshly on your neck and chest working his way ever lower. You felt yourself growing warm and wet as he ground his thigh against your core. “Ayno! You’ve got to stop… someone could come in and find us!” you pleaded. “Let them”, he growled low in your ear, “I don’t actually care.”

“I care! Anyone could just walk in! And one whole wall of this room is glass!!” Making an inhuman sound, Ayno raised his head and held one hand up toward the door. A rope of red energy shot out and zig zagged around the door and frame stitching the door closed. Then he waved his hand in the direction of the windows and you watched as they turned black like magic demon limo tint. “Better?” he hissed. He had that determined look on his face – the same one he’d had when he showed up the night of the Halloween party…and once again you realized there was no escape. Ayno in pure demon mode was a dangerous force that both scared the crap out of you and turned you on in a way you could never have imagined. You suddenly noticed that his shirt and jacket had disappeared from his body and recalled his warning about why conjuring his clothes was a bad idea.

His hands roughly yanked the straps from your dress down and to the side pushing your dress down and causing your breasts to spring free. He brought his other leg up onto the table and pushed your dress up to your waist before he reached down and flipped the crotch of your thong to the side plunging his fingers into your already dripping pussy. “Always so wet for me…”,he hummed, “I know how much you want me, and I am going to show you how much I want you”, he said as he worked his fingers in and out of you rapidly while he sucked on your nipples. Your barely there underwear were finally in his way so he pulled them off and slingshot’d them somewhere unknown in the room- not caring about where they landed or how you were going to find them, before plunging his fingers back in and rubbing at your G spot at a frenetic pace. You could feel the pressure building in your belly. Needing an outlet for your own desires, you consciously willed him naked (enjoying that particular power you had) and once your will was done, you reached down and grabbed his cock and begin stroking it. You knew that you didn’t need to, but feeling his length running up and down in your hand felt so good…and you knew that he enjoyed it. “Do you like that?” You choked out. “Yes”, he whispered. “I like it when you touch me.” His fingers rubbed your G spot in time with the strokes you made to his cock. The tingling sensation you were feeling in your fingers and toes was causing your hips to buck. “Oh! Oh!” you cried as you whimpered his name like a mantra as your walls clenched and your juices ran down onto his hand.

 He lifted your ankles to his shoulders and slid easily between your folds with how worked up you were. He leveraged his weight and trapped you between him and the conference table as he speared into you hot and hard. Every thrust sent you sliding backward across the table. Your nails dug into his biceps as his thrusts gained in strength and speed and the table began to groan in protest. Somewhere around the middle of the table Ayno’s hands finally found a grip and you stopped sliding.  You couldn’t help the loud moans escaping your lips and mixed with the sound of skin on skin as his hips slammed into the back of your thighs, the creak of the table and Ayno’s soft grunts, it was intoxicating - you closed your eyes and let it echo in your head and overtake your senses.

You reached between your legs and firmly pinched your clit, rolling the ball of nerves between your fingers. Your mind was empty as you looked at Ayno’s beautiful lust filled face and saw his ab muscles rippling as he drove himself into you. Robbed of the ability to form coherent words, you settled for the vocal equivalent of a keyboard smash as your legs began to shake and your orgasm overtook you. Ayno continued his thrusts until you had ridden out your high before he lowered your legs and unsheathed himself from your over stimulated body.

You laid there on the table, sweaty and panting. Something gleamed out of the corner of your eye and lolled your head to the left. It was a small red light. The world came back into focus as the realization hit you: Ayno’s hand had finally found purchase on the command console in the center of the table…which was where the red indicator light was coming from…on the “Intercom- all office” button. Oh shit. Oh shit no. That thing over-rode everything else…including the music being piped into the party. Your moans of ecstasy weren’t echoing in your head, they had just been echoing through the entire building – including the party in the atrium and on every single floor. Everyone in this building had just heard you and Ayno going at it on the conference table. You reached over and gently pressed the button again, watching as the light went out.

You were in such a state of shock and horror at the realization of what had just transpired that you almost failed to notice Ayno’s naked body, covered in a light sheen of perspiration, planking over you. His eyes, still burgundy ringed with pink, bored into you. “Have we reached an understanding Mistress? Or would you like me to explain it again?”

“I got the memo, and while I’d love to go over it again, I think this is not the place.”

*          *          *

It had only taken a few moments for you to assess the situation. Your up-do was ruined, you were sweaty and smelled like sex, and you couldn’t find your underwear. You were a hot mess. Worse, the keys to the apartment – and the car- were in your purse that Ayno had politely coat-checked…right by the front doors of the building…so any thoughts of sneaking out an exit door on another floor and just going home without having to see anyone were dashed. You were going to have to do the ultimate walk of shame. The only good thing you could say was that it took only a heartbeat for you to desire Ayno back into the red GQ suit – and there he was- looking like nothing had happened.

As soon as you had finger combed your hair, adjusted your dress, and given up hunting for your thong, Ayno un-tinted the windows and released the door.

The hallway and elevator bank were mercifully empty.

If the elevator ride up had seemed to take forever, the ride down felt like an express. You wanted to just stand in the corner, but Ayno wasn’t having it. He pulled you to his side and wrapped one long arm possessively around your waist.

You took a deep steadying breath, squared your shoulders and lifted your chin as the elevator thumped to a stop. The bell dinged, the doors slid open, and your heart began pounding. Maybe the system was turned off? Maybe everyone was so drunk they wouldn’t notice you?

No such luck. While you were sure it wasn’t really the whole room it felt like everyone turned to stare at the two of you. You felt your face go hot, and you were certain that your cheeks matched Ayno’s suit. Ayno, who wasn’t the least bit embarrassed, kept his arm tightly around you and steered you straight into the crowd. You heard giggles, saw knowing smiles, got some judgmental frowns with accompanying head shakes, and a few hissed “yes girl!”s as you passed people. You saw Kara & Tenley over by the snack table, both sporting giant grins, who as soon as they caught your eye held up a cocktail napkin in each hand like Olympic judges- at least they gave you four 10.00s. You were almost there when Santa, who was in fact Ernie from Accounting, walked by and said “Ooooo! Someone’s on the naughty list now!” …and you could have sworn Brandon from IT high fived Ayno who simply continued strutting along unfazed, with a cat-that-ate-the-canary smirk on his face.

You finally reached the coat check, and Ayno handed the pimple-faced college age clerk the ticket. He returned a moment later with your coat and bag, looked at Ayno and said, “Well at least I don’t have to ask if you two enjoyed the party.” You snatched your bag from him and pushed your way out onto the freezing sidewalk, making a beeline for your car. A moment later, you heard Ayno’s laughter as he ran up behind you and threw your coat around your shoulders before sweeping you up into his arms and carrying you the rest of the way.

 *          *          *

When you got out of the shower, Ayno was lounging on the bed shirtless in a pair of pajama pants. The intense gaze had never left his eyes, so you avoided it by heading to the mirror to comb out your hair. You were about three strokes in when you felt yourself being pulled backwards around the waist. Looking down you saw the red energy rope that was dragging you to your demon’s waiting arms. As soon as you got there, he pulled you against him and the ropes wrapped around the two of you, binding you together. You remembered that struggling would make them tighter, so decided to just enjoy the feeling of being forced against him without escape. The intense look in his eyes was now accompanied by an arched eyebrow. He knew your mind was busy. He was waiting.

You sighed. “I’m sorry about tonight. I know I ruined the party for you…I get so nervous & stressed about things like this… I feel like I keep questioning you Ayno, and it’s not fair. Never once have you not been perfectly clear about your desires, feelings or intentions. So, no more – it’s not your fault I’m being insecure. I apologize for treating you this way, and I will do better.”

Ayno smiled and pressed his lips to your forehead. “I am not upset. I understand. The reality of me challenges everything mortals assume demons to be. We are all supposed to be ugly, deceitful minions of evil, not humanoid in appearance and capable of honesty and feelings. This is not about you or me – it is about whoever damaged your heart before I came. Your questioning comes from fear- the fear that you will experience the same pain again. I am used to this. Do you think I am summoned by people who feel secure and happy and loved? Quite the opposite. I am called to fill a void, and my temporary nature makes me ‘safe’. I told you, I will take good care of you and I will not hurt you. I promise this. You may doubt all you wish. I will just keep explaining it to you over and over and over until you know”, he said kissing your cheeks gently as he finished.

You kissed him deeply before meeting his eyes. “I already know Ayno. But I’m happy to let you remind me as often as possible.”

And with that, Ayno turned out the lights, and reminded you again.

[cksmart-world]

The Completely Unnecessary News Analysis

By Christopher Smart

Dec. 17, 2019

MOSCOW MITCH and THE 'SEE-NO-EVIL' DEFENSE

& BEN McADAMS, GLADIATOR

So what if Senate majority leader Mitch McConnell is coordinating with the White House for President Trump's impeachment defense. Checks-and-Balances is only a theory, kinda like evolution. Another reason it's no big deal is that President Trump hardly did anything wrong. You can't impeach a president for one phone call. And the notion that there was a coordinated effort to coerce Ukraine President Zelensky into investigating Joe Biden and his son is only backed up by 17 witnesses. This is a sham witch hunt — just ask Fox & Friends or Sean Hannity. It's so clear-cut that McConnell and his Republican colleagues won't have to call any witnesses at all during the impeachment trial. What would witnesses say anyway? There was a quid pro quo. Americans don't care about no quid pro quo. And what if the president did say, hey Volodymyr, we've been very good to you, so hows about doing us a little favor and get the Bidens or we won't give you any military aid. The thing is, they got the military aid anyway (once the extortion leaked). And besides, as Mick Mulvaney, Trump's acting chief of staff, said, we do that shit all the time. Just because James Madison wrote that “The structure of the government must furnish the proper checks and balances between different departments,” doesn't mean Republicans give a damn — because, face it, they don't.

ERA: DOA

Here we go again, troublemakers are pushing the Equal Rights Amendment that would make women equal with men under the law. This, of course, spells trouble. It's so bad, in fact, that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, formerly known as Mormons, has weighted in again, holding steady to its earlier position that the amendment would mess things up real bad on account of men are men and women are women. The ERA, as it is known, got a big push in the 1970s by them women's libbers who wanted to burn their bras and wear boxer shorts. But then as now, some of the strongest opponents of the ERA are women. Here are some of their arguments against it: If the ERA is ratified, women will have to use urinals. If the ERA is ratified, women will have to fly Black Hawk helicopters and fight in combat. If the ERA is ratified, girls will want basketball scholarships and forget all about Home Ec. If the ERA is ratified, men can wear pantyhose unapologetically. If the ERA is ratified, women will have to wear crewcuts and Mr. Mac suits. If the ERA is ratified, women will play hockey and knock each other's teeth out. If the ERA is ratified, women will have to operate heavy equipment and whistle at young men during their lunch break. And if the ERA is ratified, women will share the pants in the family. And that's why ERA is Dead On Arrival.

BEN McADAMS, GLADIATOR

The mild mannered man from Utah stepped out of the phone booth carrying stone tablets. Mr. McAdams had got religion and will vote to impeach the false prophet, Donald John Trump, for abuse of power and obstructing Congress. On return from a vision quest where he looked into the eye of the tiger and a campaign of nasty TV and newspaper ads, Ben emerged with his soul intact, despite threats to feed him to the lions if he didn't buckle under like the rest of the Utah delegation. It will rain frogs before Rob Bishop, Chris Stewart, John Curtis and Mike Lee understand their place in history — a portrait of fools giving succor to dark forces that would pitch democracy to the netherworld in exchange for shiny trinkets of gratification. The battles for the spirit of America are not at an end and the gladiator from Utah surely will face an onslaught of righteous infidels seeking to undo him. But whether he wins reelection or not, McAdams will remain a champion. Amen and pass the ammunition.

WHAT PRESIDENTS SAID

 LBJ: Doing what's right is easy. The problem is knowing what is right.

Trump: I'm never wrong.

  Lincoln: America will never be destroyed from the outside. If we falter and lose our freedoms, it will be because we destroyed ourselves.

Trump: I'm the best president since Lincoln. Some say I'm greater than Lincoln.

  Reagan: We shall be the shining city on a hill.

Trump: I will order a total ban on Muslims.

  George H.W. Bush: Read my lips, no new taxes.

Trump: No one cares about my taxes except the evil Fake News media.

  JFK: Ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country.

Trump: Ask not what you can do for your country, ask what you can do for me.

  Bill Clinton: I didn't inhale.

Trump: Stormy who?.

  FDR: The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.

Trump: I'm going to scare the bejesus out of you.

Post Script: Throw another yule log on the fire and mix yourself an eggnog, 'cause that's it for another crazy week here at Smart Bomb, where the staff keeps track of Republican prevarications, so you don't have to. Yes, 'tis the season of impeachment and time to consider whether you ought to adjust your medication. But take heart, the end is not here. Just remember, Germany recovered from the Nazis; Rome is thriving today, despite the fall of the empire; and the Buffalo Bills made it to the NFL playoffs. (If that doesn't give you hope, what can?) As the year winds down, Salt Lake City Mayor Jackie Biskupsi is taking victory laps before she leaves office on Jan. 1. Jackie has accomplished a lot — if she does say so herself — but took a lot flak because she's a woman. What other reason could there possibly be? The staff here at Smart Bomb never says bad stuff at funerals and so we will bite our tongues and wish Jackie a fond farewell as she rides into the smog. We'd also like to bid adieu to Jackie's bodyguard, who will now return to regular duty at the Salt Lake Police Department after babysitting her through hundreds of boring meetings. Now there's something to celebrate.

 Well, Wilson, tell the band to put down the eggnog and take us out with a little something for the season of joy: It's coming on Christmas / They're cutting down trees / They're putting up reindeer / And singing songs of joy and peace / Oh I wish I had a river I could skate away on... I wish I had a river so long / I would teach my feet to fly / I wish I had a river I could skate away on...

[itspatsy]

the most wonderful time of year

Growing up, the closest Trish gets to traditional family Christmases are holiday specials she films for It’s Patsy, curled up with her reel family and friends by the fireplace, trading presents and smiles and hugs. Then it’s cut and take two, and she can’t pretend it’s her life anymore. For her, the reality of Christmas is weariness and restlessness and walking on eggshells. Filming breaks, but so does school, so there’s no refuge from her mother’s sharp tongue or backhand. Christmas is uncomfortable dresses and wide vacant smiles and fake gratitude for thoughtless, impersonal gifts and stuffy dinners with empty suits and food she’s not allowed to eat. It’s scornful words and fingernails digging into her shoulder and flying plates and busted lips and licking her wounds and “don’t hide in your room, dear, it’s rude, and this is a time for family” guilt trips.

But then there’s Jessica. Jessica is disdainful of most things, and Trish isn’t sure if that’s just her natural state of being, or if it was losing her family that did it. And yet, for all her sneering bitterness and withering sarcasm about everything else, Trish realizes Jessica gets unexpectedly sentimental about Christmas. 

Trish doesn’t know this until she walks into the kitchen and finds Jessica roasting chestnuts. Actual fucking chestnuts. More specifically, Trish finds Jessica ducking on the linoleum floor to avoid exploding chestnuts because Jessica doesn’t know shit about cooking anything that’s not microwave popcorn and Kraft Mac and Cheese. Of course, Trish can’t help but poke fun, and Jessica tries to brush it off like it’s a joke. But when Trish won’t let it go, Jessica storms off and refuses to talk to her for days. Even keeps her door locked, which she never does, not even after an argument, because she knows it’s Trish’s only safe place. Trish is baffled and annoyed and… lonely. They’re always mean to each other; it’s just how they communicate. Why should this be any different? 

It finally occurs to her what might be going on, and she feels like an idiot. Trish might hate Christmas, but it’s entirely possible Jessica doesn’t. Jessica grew up with a family that loved her. They probably chopped down their own tree like fucking lumberjacks and decorated it with stringed popcorn and stars, left milk and fresh baked cookies out for He-Sees-You-When-You’re-Sleeping-Stalker-Santa, watched The Muppet Christmas Carol curled up together with a fire blazing in the wood-stove, or whatever bullshit. Those twee things loving, happy families do in Christmas movies that make Trish roll her eyes and her chest ache with something she can’t verbalize without her throat closing up. 

Jessica never admits to it, of course, but Trish thinks it’s the one time she lets herself do something in remembrance of her family. So she makes a peace offering. It’s turns out easy bake Plilsbury sugar cookies with the ugly little Christmas trees aren’t so easy to bake, or maybe Trish is just bad at it, but she tries (she’s always trying, for better or worse, probably most often worse). She sets down a plate of the mostly brunt cookies and a glass of milk on the floor in front of Jessica’s door, gives it a light rap, and walks away. When she walks by later, the cookies and milk are gone, and she can’t help but smile. She smiles even wider when she finds an ugly, misshapen reindeer made of pipe cleaners outside her own door. 

Trish still goes to the awful industry holiday parties, and she makes increasingly stupid decisions at those parties, but with Jessica in her life, the bad Christmas memories are more often replaced with something better. Dorothy takes to fucking off with whatever slam piece she’s currently seeing, so that gives Trish and Jessica a moment’s reprieve in the house. They make their own traditions. The chestnuts become one of their things, and they get better at cooking them in ways that don’t involve explosions. Same for the Pillsbury cookies, except those don’t really taste good even when they aren’t burnt. They order take out and curl up together to watch stupid movies and snark MST3k style.

Inspired by Jessica’s first gift, they trade shitty DIY presents. Some highlights over the years include: 

a tote bag that says “fuck off” in gold glitter

a gratitude jar full of insults

a vision board of Dorothy’s demise

a piece of cardboard cut into a circle with a picture of a smiling Jessica on one side and a judgmental Jessica on the other, with the instruction of “flip it to help you make decisions when I’m not here”

When Trish starts at the radio station and especially after Trish Talk takes off, she’s back to attending business related Christmas events. They’re always dreadfully boring, but she much prefers boring after the kind of parties she used to attend. She mainly goes because they’re an excellent opportunity to network, pitch ideas, and win over advertisers. She convinces Jessica to come once or twice, but a bunch of suits talking about work isn’t enough to make the free alcohol and food worth it for her. The parties are in the days leading up to Christmas, not on Christmas, because normal people have families that they love and want to spend time with, and that’s okay, because Trish has Jessica. 

Until she doesn’t.

For the first time since Jessica came into her life, Trish spends Christmas alone. Trish knows something is wrong and that Jessica would never just leave her like that, but she can’t get in contact with her or find her. The only thing she can do is pretend it’s okay. Before she stopped answering Trish’s calls, Jessica said she was safe and happy and loved, so Trish tells herself it’s all true. She orders Chinese takeout, calls Jessica’s old number, now disconnected, just in case, and she spends the night curled up in Jessica’s bed watching Jessica’s favorite stupid YouTube videos so she can laugh instead of cry. (She has no idea Jessica is also eating Chinese, not so far away, with a man in a purple suit.)

The second Christmas without Jessica is worse than the first, because Jessica did leave her, of her own free will, in the way Trish never thought she could, and there is no pretending this time. And she feels like everyone, at the station, strangers she passes on the street, somehow knows that when she goes home, she’ll be the sad lonely woman spending Christmas by herself, and it’s probably all in her head, but she swears she sees pity in their eyes, and fuck that. 

She goes to a bar on Christmas Eve, orders a drink with no intention of touching it, and picks up a guy, fully aware the only men in bars on Christmas Eve are almost certainly human garbage. The garbage she chooses is good-looking enough, though, and she takes him home to relieve some stress. The sex is okay, but when it’s over, she doesn’t feel better, only nauseous. She kicks him out and lays on her couch starting at the ceiling and when it becomes obvious she isn’t going to fall asleep, she pulls out her plans to convert Jessica’s room into a workout space.

On Christmas Day, she orders takeout (not Chinese, not after everything Jessica told her) and listens to the awful, drunken messages her mom leaves every Christmas because a blocked number means nothing to Dorothy Walker. Feeling particularly masochistic, she connects to her expensive speaks and plays the messages on repeat in the full glory of surround sound. It’s always the same old song from her mother: it starts with ingratiating compliments and begging guilt trips before transforming into berating contempt. She blubbers about how sorry she is and she’s better now and she’s just so glad to have a brilliant, beautiful daughter that’s successful and will you just give me a chance to be a mother again I just want to be part of your life if you’d just let me why are you always so selfish you ungrateful little bitch.

She sits at her kitchen table and eyes the absurdly expensive whisky she’s gifted Jessica with since they became legal (she bought it this year out of habit… and hope), and she almost breaks, but she isn’t willing to take her pity party so far that she’ll risk a relapse for Jolly Old Saint Nicolas. Christmas is bullshit, but it’s not worth that. Not even Jessica is worth that. (That is, of course, a lie. Jessica is worth everything.)

Kilgrave is dead, for good, and Jessica is in her life, maybe for good and maybe not, and Trish is relieved and grateful but it still hurts. She isn’t sure that Jessica actually wants to spend Christmas with her, and she’s not even sure if she wants to spend it with Jessica. So she just avoids mentioning it, and Jessica doesn’t bring it up either, and they both assume they’ll go about their own thing just like last year. Trish still hasn’t figured out how to spend Christmas without Jessica, but she’ll manage.

She goes to a charity dinner on Christmas Eve, and even though she finds them dull, it seems a little more rational and healthy than her ill-advised one night stand and pity party last year, and that’s progress, right? She smiles her red carpet smile, laughs and nods and looks sad at all the appropriate times, and makes a generous donation to the cause, but all she can think about is how strange it feels, knowing Jessica is there, within reach, but not with her. It would only take a call. 

When she gets home, she spends a few hours with her punching bag. When she finishes, she’s exhausted, but not the kind that leads to peaceful sleep. It’s after midnight, and she resigns herself to another night of insomnia. She prepares a Merry Christmas text for Jessica, intending to save it for a reasonable time in the morning, but after staring at it for a solid minute, she sends it. She makes sure the little line below her text says “delivered,” and her stomach does a tiny flip when it changes to “read.” She’s honestly a little disgusted with herself for it, but the number is still connected, she can still reach Jessica, and even if she doesn’t get a response back, Jessica’s listening. 

Not an hour later, there’s a knock at her door. She worries it might be her mother. She’s given the woman an inch in order to obtain information about IGH, but she knew Dorothy would try turn it into a mile. It’s not her mother’s cloying smile she sees through the video feed, though, it’s Jessica’s scowl. Trish scrambles to let her in, asks if everything is okay. Jessica nods and lifts the scowl into a half smile. Trish smiles back.

They stand a little awkwardly in the hallway, part haunted by the memories of their last two Christmases, part hopeful that this year will be better. Then Jessica catches sight of her usual gift sitting on the kitchen island, laughs, and tromps over to pour herself a glass. Trish rolls her eyes fondly but also kind of hates herself for enabling Jessica. She wishes she’d thought of another gift, but that would’ve been too obvious, would’ve led to defensiveness and coldness and avoidance. She knows they’ll have to talk about it eventually, but she doesn’t want to scare Jessica off. Things are still too fragile. 

Instead, Trish sits by Jessica on the couch while she sips her whisky. They watch videos of people falling down, and when Jessica busts out laughing, Trish sneaks looks at her out of the corner of her eye, savoring every moment. It’s a good Christmas.