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uzumaki-rebellion · 9 days ago

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"Ruler of my heart

Robber of my soul

Where can you be?

I wait patiently

My heart cries out

Pain inside

Where can you be?

I wait patiently"

Irma Thomas—"Ruler of my Heart"

Celeste's smartphone vibrated on her nightstand at six in the morning. She rubbed her head. Her scarf had come undone during the night and her locs tangled around her arm and side. She reached down for the phone and shoved it against her hair.

"Hello?" she said.

"Celeste…I can't come to church with you today."

She sat up and rested her back against the headboard.

"Oh…okay…"

" Mémé s health aide called me—"

"Is everything alright?"

"No. She's not doing so well…took a turn for the worse during the night. I've been here since two this morning."

"Did they say what's wrong? She's never been seriously ill or anything since she's been there."

"They don't really know. She was weak and having a hard time breathing before I got here. They have her using an oxygen tank now and she's better. Maybe Mike's death was too much for her to take."

"I'll come right over if you want."

"No. Go to your church service."

"I have to be there for work at four. I can stop in to check on you two."

"That would be good. Thank you."

"See you soon."

She hung up and slid down to the floor, prostrating herself for prayer. She asked God and her patron saint, St. Mary, to watch over Miss Irma. Celeste climbed back into bed and listened to the world outside waking up after excessive partying. Even her cottage moaned and shifted with creaking noises at the rising sun. Bounding out of bed forty minutes before service, she washed her face and brushed her teeth, rolled deodorant under her pits while checking the news about the missing tourists. There were no new updates available.

The drive over to St. Augustine was unhurried, and she found parking close by. After ninety minutes, Celeste stepped outside the Parish Hall with a dark smudge of ash on her forehead. She checked her phone for any messages from Terry, but no notifications popped up.

Back at her cottage, she cooked a simple breakfast of toast and scrambled eggs. Her friends chirped all over the groupchat app, complaining of hangovers, sore legs, and going back to work. She informed them that Terry hadn't stayed over, and they commended her on not simping out. The hours dragged by before she dressed in her work uniform and tied up her hair.

She checked in with her supervisor Anne at work, asking about Miss Irma.

"How did you know about her condition?" Anne asked.

"I'm friends with her grandson, Terry."

"I didn't know that."

"Is he still here?"

"He's with her now. We've transitioned into hospice care for her. Bryan said she doesn't have long."

"Wait…what? She's dying?"

Anne's watery blue eyes held the routine of elderly death in them.

"Yes."

"How could she go downhill so fast?"

"It happens that way sometimes. Not every patient has a gradual decline. They can be perky and thriving one moment, and then…gone just like that."

Celeste walked to her work locker and put away her bag and keys. She looked at her shift schedule and got to work immediately. Ducking into an employee restroom after cleaning six rooms, she braced herself by staring at her face in the mirror. Death and dying were inevitable at the long-term facility. Lord knows she'd seen enough of it working there. Things shifted to another experience when it was someone she cared about. She treated Miss Irma like family, and it hurt to know she would transition so soon. Another prayer went up from her and she crossed herself in order to build up emotional reserves to remain professional.

Passing through the long hallway, she headed to Miss Irma's room.

Terry kept a bedside vigil, cradling his grandmother's hand. Celeste was glad that they administered oxygen through a nasal cannula instead of a full mask. A hospice nurse checked the oxygen flow in the tank next to the bed and left the room quickly.

"Hi," she said.

Terry looked up at her, his eyes bloodshot from a lack of sleep, and his forehead lined with stress. She moved around the bed to stand next to him. Miss Irma slept with labored breathing.

"How is she?"

Terry shook his head, and his eyes scrunched up. Celeste hugged him from the side and he buried his face against her stomach. He wept softly. She held him, rocking his body to ease his spirit.

"She's lived a long, happy life. I'm grateful for that…but I don't want her to leave me," he said.

Tears misted Celeste's vision and she willed them back down, keeping her composure for him. His breath passed through her work smock, warming up the skin on her stomach.

"I shouldn't have told her about my cousin. She didn't need to know about what happened to him yet. I could've lied to her and said he was too busy to visit."

"Lying isn't good."

"I should've waited for another time."

"Terry, don't blame yourself."

Miss Irma's eyes fluttered open. Celeste lowered her head to make eye contact.

"Hi Miss Irma," Celeste said.

"I'm so tired, Papa," Miss Irma said.

"Rest, Mémé…don't waste your energy trying to speak. I'm right here with you."

Celeste rubbed his shoulder and sang the first three stanzas of "I Need Thee" for Miss Irma in hushed tones. The older woman's agitation melted away. Her rheumy eyes held Celeste's gaze, and Terry patted his grandmother's feeble, blue-veined hand.

"I better get back to work and leave you some privacy," she said.

Terry stood up and hugged her, his bulky arms squeezing her close.

"Thank you for singing to her."

"I'll come by later during another round to check on y'all. Stay strong, hear?"

He nodded his head and sat back down.

Celeste hurried back to her busy schedule, cleaning and moving clients into the dining room for their evening meals. She marked off tasks as she completed them to keep her focus on working her eight hours. During her first break, she went outside to smoke against a side wall, wondering how Miss Irma was doing and how Terry held up. She called her mother and left a fussy message on her voicemail about Freddie.

Her cousin Pia sent her a link of Celeste dancing on a porch in a Mardi Gras compilation video along with images of Big Chief marching through their neighborhood. Returning to work, she led the finished diners back to their private rooms, or to the evening movie watch-party in the commons area.

She stopped in front of the doorway of Miss Irma's room. She cracked the door open and peeked inside. Terry held his head down near his grandmother's thigh. He slept soundly. Miss Irma's labored breathing became more pronounced and Celeste recognized the wet, gurgling noise with each exhaled breath released. Her time was near.

She reached down to close the door all the way and Miss Irma turned her head, lining her gaze with Celeste. Miss Irma's lips moved and Celeste couldn't hear what she said. She moved into the room quietly, trying not to wake Terry.

She bent over the bed to listen.

"Keep her," Miss Irma said, each word a strain on her breathing. "No matter what Papa says…no matter…what no one says…keep her."

She raised a weak hand and pointed toward her closet.

"The truth… is in there, child."

Terry shifted his head on the bed and opened weary eyes.

"Mémé?" he murmured.

"Oh, I do love you so…Papa," Miss Irma said.

He kissed his grandmother's cheek, and Miss Irma closed her eyes.

For good.

Terry's lips parted, but no sound came out, his grief so profound that vibrations in the air couldn't push out his pain of another loss. He held Miss Irma's hand and stared at her as if he could bring her back with a loving gaze.

"I'm truly all alone," he whispered.

Miss Irma's heart monitor alerted the medical staff and Celeste exited the room, blindly wandering in the opposite direction. She left the facility and cried against her car. Ten minutes later, she pulled it together again and walked back to Miss Irma's room.

The medical staff allowed Terry to sit with Miss Irma's deceased body for an hour. Celeste pulled up a chair and sat next to him in silence. Terry stared at Miss Irma with a damp face and a sorrowful mood.

"Even when you know it's coming, you're never prepared…not really. Ninety-nine years she walked this earth and loved me for every single one of them."

He closed his eyes and a single tear ran down his left cheek.

"I was so grateful to know her," she said.

Terry reached for Celeste's hand and held it on his thigh.

"You were a light in her lonely days while I was away. I can never repay you for the care and love you've shown her the last year of her life."

Anne knocked on the door softly and entered. Celeste knew she had forms prepared for Terry to sign, and two hospice workers waited outside to take Miss Irma away.

"I have to go back to work, but later…tonight, you're welcome to stay with me."

He wiped his face and nodded.

Walking away from Miss Irma and Terry was the most difficult thing to do, but she had to let him deal with the aftercare of the deceased on his own.

Terry cremated Miss Irma's remains.

That surprised Celeste even though Catholics didn't forbid cremation. They had guidelines stating that remains had to be buried in a consecrated place, but an older Catholic like Miss Irma typically preferred a traditional burial with the body kept intact for Resurrection Day. Terry didn't act very religious and sorted out his grandmother's affairs according to her will. Miss Irma had a pre-paid burial package at a local crematorium. Three days after her death, Celeste stood with Terry at the St. Louis Cemetery No. 1 columbarium in the serenity garden. He interred Miss Irma with his cousin Mike and refused to have any kind of service.

Her friends started worrying about how closely she attached herself to Terry, isolating herself more and more from family and associates. She blew them off, wanting to enjoy his company without their interference. The only downside to their relationship was that Celeste dreaded going to work at the elder care facility and the chicken plant. It meant less time spent with him. His bereavement lasted five days, and she traded shifts here and there and called in sick to the chicken plant to make the most of the hours alone with him.

She cooked low sodium soups for him and brewed lots of tea, insisting that he eat and take in liquids despite his grief. He obliged her. They watched lots of movies and held each other in bed at night. He liked to rest his head on her chest while she hummed and stroked his hair until he fell asleep.

She played the piano for him often at sunset, keeping her French doors open so the music drifted outside as the evening breeze cooled down her cottage. Most of her repertoire consisted of gospel hymns or classical arias. As a child, her voice lessons focused on singing classical music and downplaying secular music. Her parents dreamed of her being an opera star. Their greatest disappointment in her musical gifts was the day she dropped out of Tulane University's prestigious Newcomb Department of Music in her junior year. She'd lost sight of what path to take in school and dropped out in frustration. Playing piano and singing were things she enjoyed as a hobby, not a career choice.

Watching Terry shut those gorgeous eyes while she sang "Adoramus Te Christe" thrilled her to the bone. He appreciated her talent, especially the way she could sound down home with all her gospel runs, but then turn around, striking the keys with a fiery piano rendition of German composer Carl Orff's "O Fortuna". She tickled the ivory stirring up playful riffs imitating Professor Longhair and Alan Toussaint. Serenading him with her version of "Ruler of my Heart", Celeste adored the way Terry drank in every sung word, gifting her with his unwavering attention. Music was in the blood of her family, the heart of New Orleans. What was the city without its music? Without Black folks? She poured out her love for New Orleans, her people…and him, through her talented fingers dancing across the keys.

He could never keep his hands off her throughout their time together.

Sometimes he liked to play with her locs absentmindedly while she rested her head on his lap, listening to love songs on her sound system. He'd fondle her breasts, plucking and pinching her nipples at unexpected times, forcing her to take off her shirt and unfasten her bra so he could suck on her tits. She loved getting on her knees and stuffing his dick between her breasts. Titty fucking brought out the beast in him. Nothing was sexier than his eyes narrowing into half slits, watching her soft, ample breasts rub up and down his shaft, his slit dripping copious amounts of sticky fluid. She'd stick the tip of tongue deep into his slit and he'd groan, the rumble in his chest turning her on.

They spent a whole afternoon like that, titty fucking while she was down on her knees, then switching to her reclining on the sectional with him straddling her waist, using his big hands to squeeze her tits while he humped that battering ram between her cleavage like it was her pussy.

She'd squeal when he nutted all over her nipples, then he'd keep stroking his dick until he shot a heavy load on her face next. He'd smear the cum around and make her lick it off his fingers, all the while telling her she was amazing. Her plump tits looked like two big ole pound cakes covered in glazed icing by the time he started jerking off again, aroused beyond measure by her appearance soaked in his creamy white jizz. He repeated this over and over until he shot hot ropes all over her lips and open mouth. His stamina was unreal.

Still covered in semen, he'd flip Celeste over onto his knees and spank her, building up her pain tolerance over a session, and then rub her ass cheeks with those massive palms to soothe the scorching heat his hand strikes left on her backside. Their safe word never had to be used, because he instinctively knew when Celeste reached her limit. She gave herself willingly to him, sucking his dick and balls whenever he needed tender-loving care. Her head bobbing in his lap giving loud sloppy toppy became ritual. He gave as much as he took from her. Reciprocity was his middle name, and he kept his face buried between her legs twice a day.

Bouncing on that big dick became another favorite pastime in the evenings. He'd glue his mouth to her ear and tell her in crude language with throaty groans how much of a good girl she was for taking all of his dick in her tight snatch. She became delirious when he lifted her up and down on his erection, as if she had no weight at all. He stood up and really showed off by arm-curling her on and off his length in the air, her thighs spread across his biceps. They went through two bottles of lube fast… and so many orgasms.

Occasionally they untangled their limbs, and got out of the house to walk to the French Market for fresh air and non-sexual exercise. They picked out interesting arts and crafts, bought pralines, visited Congo Square and checked in with her older cousin who ran the Backstreet Cultural Museum that highlighted Mardi Gras Indian history. Terry walked by her side carrying shopping bags home like they were a regular long-time couple. He came back to himself, being with her. That's what he told her. Celeste's heart grew brave, and she admitted to herself that she was falling in love. The embers of romantic love sparked and burned into a steady glowing orange flame, and each day she added a bit more kindling, keeping the hearth of eros warm in her heart. Terry's affections grew even more pronounced and his actions hinted he felt the same way about her. He took care of her, paying for everything while he stayed with Celeste, even covering her light and gas bill. His mourning period blossomed into courtship.

A week after interring his relatives, Terry asked to do something with her.

"Let me videotape you."

"You really wanted that directing gig, huh?" she teased.

He gently pushed her leg to get her off the couch.

"Set up your camera and ring lights…right on the floor again," he said. "Wear the burgundy bra and panties. Throw on your six-inch heels…bring me the binding rope, too."

Celeste set about gathering her equipment and dressed the way he wanted. He stuck the dildo on the floor and adjusted the lighting to a natural setting that mimicked warm outdoor light. She pulled her carnival mask over her eyes. The only make-up she used was a pink lip gloss.

She stood before him and handed over the red satin binding rope. He tied her upper body carefully, creating a line of small knots along her spine, and bound her arms together, pressed into her chest.

"Comfortable? Not too tight?" he asked, mindful of not stopping her circulation.

"I'm good," she said.

His gaze dusted across her form, approving of the physical masterpiece waiting to do his bidding. Freddie used to pester her about letting him handcuff her to their bed a lifetime ago and she always refused, uncomfortable with being hooked to a headboard.

Look at her now. Tied up by a man she hadn't known a mere two weeks ago.

Terry ran his large hand down her side, testing the bondage rope and stroking her skin. He frowned and shook his head, undoing the rope quickly.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Take the underwear off. Your skin looks better with the rope by itself," he insisted.

She pulled off her bra and shimmied out of her panties with his help keeping her balance. He tied the rope again, but this time he placed various knots on her erogenous zones, nipples, and clit. The unused length of rope he turned into a leash knotted loosely at the front of her throat. He held the leash in his hand, turning her into his sexual pet. She liked that her arms were free, even though he was in control of her movement.

The emerald coloring of his eyes became alluring sirens. They matched his inviting lips and aroused her all over. Every time she moved, a knotted portion of the rope rubbed, tugged, or created friction on her sensitive parts. Especially her clit. Terry licked his fingers and pushed a small knot into that swelling jewel.

"Sticky already," he said, licking his fingers. "My little nasty girl."

His voice sounded deeper…hungry. Her pussy started purring then. He tugged on the rope resting on both sides of her vulva and she whimpered. The friction there felt exquisite on her soft, plump outer labia. He left just enough space for her opening to remain available for his use.

"How did I get so lucky to find you, Celeste?"

She pressed her eyes shut. The vibration of his voice teased the skin on her neck. He kissed her throat and licked a favorite spot that he always buried his teeth in when he came inside of her. The bruising on her neck, under her breasts, and on her left thigh never went away completely. Those times he did bite her—and he bit often—brought on a high better than smoking weed. He'd bite, suck at the skin like he was giving a hickey, and she'd float into a cosmic orgasm every time.

He moved his lips to her chin and kissed her there, his tongue tracing circular swirls until he reached her ear.

"I want you to ride that dildo like you're riding me. Can you do that?"

"Yes."

He kissed her and pried her lips apart with his tongue, darting inside her mouth with an ardor that overwhelmed her ability to stay in the present. Her mind flew away into the future, dreaming of romance and building a life with him. Pure fantasy.

He pulled away from her lips and held her trembling body.

"Crying? Why, baby?" he asked.

She shook her head, and he hugged her.

"Should we stop this?" he breathed.

"No. I can do it."

"Are you sure? Have I done something to upset you?"

"No…I'm happy. I want this…I want you…"

He grinned so hard that his gums showed, looking like a little kid who won first prize at a Spelling Bee. Did he smile at his wife that way when she was alive? Celeste thought about that woman more and more. Could Terry love her enough to want to wife her up one day?

He stroked the side of her face with the back of his hand.

"I love you," he said.

Celeste's heart imploded.

Her knees quaked, and he held her against him with a beatific smile on his gorgeous face.

"Do you feel the same about me?"

Celeste threw her arms around his neck, and he lifted her onto her toes. He chuckled and pressed his forehead against hers.

So fast…it all came about so fast that Celeste wasn't sure that she hadn't made up the encounter or the words that came out of his divine lips.

He loved her. Truly, madly, profoundly.

They kissed again, their tongues sliding into sweet configurations, each one of them trying to show the other the depth of their feelings. Celeste even thanked Freddie in her heart for showing his ass and removing himself from her life to make way for this light-eyed prince who swept her off her feet literally.

Terry spun around with her in his arms and she laughed, feeling dizzy from the rush of love confessions.

He checked the camera settings to record her, and Celeste crouched over the lubed up dildo in her high heels and knotted rope binding.

"Show me how much you love me," Terry said.

His eyes took on a deadly seriousness and Celeste shook her hips and reached down to her toes, displaying her wide open labia. Her pussy twitched in anticipation of penetration, and Terry groaned behind the camera.

"That's it, Celeste…baby that pussy is glistening."

She rolled her hips and lowered her body down to the floor, crouched on her heels, and rested her vulva against the tip of the jet black dildo. The toy was flexible and bent at an angle to help her control how deep it went. Patting her labia, she fingered herself, playing for the camera and him.

"Right there baby, hold it…"

She squeezed her vaginal muscles, letting her opening wink open and closed for him. Glancing over her shoulder, she watched Terry tug on his dick through his gray sweatpants. He already had a tent pitched there and his pre-cum stained a visible quarter-sized wet spot.

"Slide down on that shit," he commanded.

His voice echoed in her ears, and she obeyed.

Up and down she went. The dildo spread her pussy lips apart and her tight opening choked it with loud squelching noises. Terry's eyes volleyed back and forth from the laptop on the coffee table and the camera lens he recorded from. He held the leash end of the bondage rope and it gave the appearance of the viewer controlling Celeste's body. She wound her hips and slid on and off the dildo, riding the tip, constantly looking over her shoulder, her mask creating the mystery ultra-fuck experience that her viewers paid to see. She turned around to face the camera, using her strong knees to rock forward and back on the fake dick. Terry pulled on the rope, forcing her head up.

"Got that dick creamy, baby," he said.

Celeste slapped her vulva and looked at how frothy she made the dildo. She fucked it like it was Terry's fat dick. He stopped looking at the camera view screen and watched her fuck with gushy pussy live. Celeste became wet enough to start making splashing noises each time she dropped down on the dildo. The knots in the rope spurned her on, their friction on her nipples and clit leading her to a dangerous precipice.

Terry pulled down his sweatpants just enough to release a massive erection that he stroked above her with delicious erotic skill. It looked so fat and juicy. Her mouth watered and her pussy contracted after a long stream of pre-cum spilled out of his tip and fell onto her thigh. Celeste pressed into her clit with the rope knot, and an unhurried orgasm rippled in surging waves along her outer labia, causing her to squirt all over the floor. She'd never done that before. Terry's dick started spitting cum after her release, and his semen rained down on Celeste, covering the satin rope in wet, messy splashes. Her lover's eyes burned with lust and he pulled her onto her feet by the leash.

Spinning her around, he penetrated her standing up, bending her forward and yanking on her locs. Gripping her throat, he pummeled her cheeks, sinking that thick heat deep into her until his balls slapped against her ass. It wasn't enough for him.

Tossing her over his shoulder, he carried her into the bedroom and dropped her onto the bed. He entered her again with one thrust and she gasped at the sensation of fullness.

"Tell me you love me," he begged.

The earnestness in his tone shocked Celeste. He needed verbal reassurance from her that he wasn't alone in the sentiment.

"I love you, Terry."

"Say it again…again…again…baby…"

He loved on her like she'd never been loved on before. Pure. Gentle. Real.

"Fuck me…yes…I feel you squeezing me, shit…don't stop…damn, girl! Damn, Celeste…fucking this dick…keep fucking me…ooh shiiiiit!"

Terry stopped short of cumming and untied her. He rubbed the indentation marks on her skin, kissing each one until satisfied that he soothed them all.

"Feeling okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine."

He lowered his head to suck on her nipples. She rubbed on his hair and he tended to her breasts like it was his first time playing with them.

His large physique covered her in muscles, sweat, and even tears. He kept his watery eyes on her face, and they repeatedly told one another, "I love you."

It had to be real.

His dick stretched her pussy in ownership. She pointed her toes at the ceiling and gripped his wide back, her nails digging into his sweaty flesh, breaking skin. He cried out her name, and that alone triggered her pussy to spasm and send tight contractions along the length of his dick. The orgasm that curled her toes came deep within, down in the bottom of her pussy where his dick rested. Celeste's eyes rolled back. He plunged his teeth into the side of her neck, sucking with those full lips and greedy tongue. His dick swelled and pumped warm cum into her. Thrashing her head about, she couldn't get over how he wrecked her walls. He spilled deep into her womb and she wept, her pussy still throbbing around him.

Celeste could've died happy in that moment. Cumming on the dick of the man she loved…and who loved her back…priceless.

"I love you…I love you…I love you," he said over and over until she passed out.

Heavy raindrops.

Celeste made coffee for herself and Terry in her kitchen. Her faded light blue house dress looked just as gloomy as the weather outside. She poured the liquid into mugs full of cream and sugar, stirring them with a spoon before carrying them out into her living room.

Terry peered at the courtyard through the French doors. The curtains were drawn back so they could watch water falling from the sky.

"Doesn't look like it'll clear up today," she said, watching him.

He didn't acknowledge her right away, just stared up at the darkening clouds.

He'd been with her for an additional week and his mood had changed. Their interactions and lovemaking remained top notch, but his mind seemed preoccupied with something outside of her.

He was afraid of something.

On their outings he walked like a man dodging trouble, preferring to avoid crowds and always looking over his shoulder. He gave her money to buy food alone and holed up in her house like a shut-in. She questioned him about his behavior and he claimed to not be feeling well. Spooked and nervous, Terry became a different person and no amount of cajoling from her made him open up about it.

She handed him a mug and he turned to look at her.

"I think it'll rain all week," he said.

She walked over to the sectional and sat down, sipping her coffee and dreading going to work at the chicken plant in a few hours. Terry sighed and drank from his mug.

Celeste moved over to the piano to play him something comforting, but the first chord she struck on a piano key didn't sound right.

Terry's somber eyes looked gray in the distance between them.

"I have to go back home, check on the restaurant with my business partner. I've been away too long and I have responsibilities there," he said.

She nodded in understanding, swallowing the lump that grew in her throat.

"Will you be able to come back and see me?" she asked.

"Not for a while, Celeste."

"I get it. You had a life before you came here. I can't expect you to stay forever."

"Baby, don't cry…"

Celeste covered her face with her left hand. Terry sat down next to her on the piano bench.

"Hey…hey…" he said.

He hugged her, and she cried into his neck. The man had proved that there was love after love, and she wished she could relive every moment she spent with him. She sensed deep down that he didn't want to leave...but had to. If a man couldn't tell her the truth about why he wanted to go away, she was smart enough to let him leave. He told her once he had issues in the past being in New Orleans. Maybe it was some old gangster shit and he had to get outta Dodge fast. Whatever it was, she wasn't going to get involved.

Celeste rested her head against his chest so she could listen to his heartbeat and remember it. The rain outside did the rest of the crying for her.

Chapter 9 HERE.

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auti-starshine · 1 month ago

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I have recently (in the past month) started using a cane to help with my chronic pain.

I work at a super market and use my cane at work. I was cleaning the restrooms last week and left my cane in the women’s room while I went to clean the men’s. I came back and my cane was gone. Spoke to my manger and we checked cameras and found out it was a coworker from a different area of the store who stole it.

I don’t give a fuck who you are, if you’re also dealing with chronic pain, if you’re poor, whatever, stealing someone’s mobility aid is NEVER okay. When telling people about this I kept hearing people excuse the coworkers actions and it was so frustrating. I don’t care if you thought it was abandoned, take it to the front of the store and turn it in to an employee. I don’t care if you need a cane and can’t afford one/don’t have one, you can’t just steal someone else’s.

I NEED MY CANE TO WALK

I need my mobility aid and someone stealing it has greatly disrupted my life and caused a huge flare up. Anyways, a huge fuck you to that lady, and a post I never thought i’d have to make saying:

DONT STEAL PEOPLES MOBILITY AIDS!!!

#starshine talks #disabled #chronic pain #disability #mobility aid #cane user

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the-froschamethyst4 · 1 year ago

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Suit

➤ Day 7

𖤐 Pairing: Husband! Price x Wife! Reader

𖤐 Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐 Warnings: Smut, NSFW, married couple, hand job, blowjob, kissing, eating out, slightly aggressive, biting, age gap

𖤐 Summary: Price works from home, he absolutely loves it, working from home and getting a good fuck in from his wife. He was in an important meeting when his wife comes in and gives him some help since she was his ex-secretary, so, she knows his strengths and weaknesses

———————

Price was getting ready for an important meeting; he was going to discuss to his employees about how the marketing is all of a sudden dropping.

He started to business after leaving the Military and so far, his sales have been through the roof but recently, they've been dropping, and he doesn't know why.

Y/n his wife sat on the couch watching TV in one of Price's t-shirts, her knees to her chest as she looked at the screen. Y/n use to Price's secretary so she knew everything and anything about him.

She was a newly fresh graduated College student and became his assistant almost right after graduating, his company is top of the line and everyone wanted to work for him, and she got to work so close with him that he fell in love with her and married her. They've been married for 5 years now.

Price didn't care if people judged them or anything, he loves Y/n even if some people don't think they should be together.

Price leaned in his chair looking at the computer screen. Price turned to his left and looked at a couple pictures of his and Y/n's wedding, Y/n looking beautiful in her wedding dress, her with a beautiful smile on and lovely red and pink roses in her hands.

Another was a little more scandalous, Y/n was on a bed on her back wearing black lacy lingerie, it was her and Price's 3-year anniversary and Y/n went to a professional photographer and took sexy photos to surprise Price with. Obviously, he loved them that he kept some in his wallet, on his nightstand next to his side of the bed and even a few on his desk, that he stares at ALL THE TIME!

Y/n knows about him having those photos scattered around the house and isn't ashamed by them but does wish he puts them somewhere else when they have guest over.

Y/n went to the kitchen and poured herself some hot water and grabbed a tea bag, she dipped it in the hot water and walked into Price's office.

Price looked up when he heard feet sticking to the hard wood floor, he saw his wife in the doorway and smiled at her.

"Honey," he coos, he smiles at her as she walked to the other side of the desk and sat on his lap. She looks at the computer seeing that he was in a meeting.

"Can they see us right now?"

"No, I told them I was going to use the restroom but really, I'm trying to solve this shit, and they can't hear us either," he says, showing her the papers of the low sales. Y/n grabbed the paper from his hand and looked at it.

Y/n use to do the paperwork before Price saw it, but now it was different, he doesn't have an assistant or secretary anymore.

Price watched her face go from excited to serious, he loved that face, it means she was ready for business. He held her waist tightly, hummed when she talked, he wasn't really listening. He then leaned close to her neck and kissed her neck.

She didn't push him away. She let him do whatever he wanted. She was just to use to him being all clingy and handsy, when they first started to date, his eyes never left her body and his hands always wanted to be touching her.

"Price," she said as he was sucking on her neck leaving a purple mark on her skin.

He just hums and keeps going.

His hands went up her shirt squeezing her, and pinching her, she lets out a soft yelp as he squeezes her. She grabbed his hands and looked over her shoulder.

"You need to focus," she said.

"No," he mumbles.

"Yes...y-you...y-you need to focus on...your m-meeting...n-not...not me," she stutters as she tried to get off and push off of him. He just held her tighter.

Price's hands then glide down her thighs squeezing them as he kissed and bit her neck. She blushes at his hands squeezing her, she places the papers done and turned to Price.

Her hands went up his arms to his shoulders, she liked the suit he was wearing, it was one handmade just for him, tailored to fit his muscles, and fit him perfectly.

Her hands went to his matching tie and pulling him close to her face, smashing her lips on his. His hands went back to roaming her body, his hands squeezed her hips and butt.

"Remember when the first week we were dating...you wanted some fun...some risky fun?"

"Yeah? What are you getting at, honey?" He asks.

"I'm getting at is...why not we do that again?" She started to slowly move off his lap down to his knees.

"Honey?"

Her hands opened his legs just slightly, her hand grabbed at his pants zipper and pulled his pants down his ankles, and she grabbed his boxers pulling them down as well.

Her hand moved up and down, he moaned at her hand doing to best work. His hips buck up in her hand, her thumb goes over his tip getting a bit of pre-cum on her thumb.

"Already?" She asks, looking up at him.

"I...I was looking at those photos you took-"

"And you got horny by those?"

"I did," he says as Y/n just giggles and playfully rolls her eyes. She leaned closer to his dick and slapping his hardened dick on her tongue and moaning before taking him whole in her mouth.

She bobs her head up and down earning a moan from him. He places his hand over his mouth and smirked at her.

"Sir, are you ready to move on?" One of his employees asked. Price groaned at being interrupted.

He unmuted himself. "Yeah, yeah, let's move on," Price said as he turned his screen back on but left himself muted.

"Should I stop-"

"Don't you dare say that, and blue ball me, you're funny," he said, bucking his hips again.

She moans around him making him lean his head back, everyone didn't notice but if they did, they'd probably think he was getting bored, not realizing he was getting sucked off by his wife.

Price grabbed a handful of her hair; she goes done a little deeper, his tip definitely hitting the thing in the back of her throat almost making her gag, but she was used to his size.

She moved back up and looked down at his dick that was just begging for her to keep going. Price groaned when her mouth wasn't around him anymore.

Price wasn't listening to his employees anymore, just watching his cute wife. She licked her lips before putting her mouth back around him.

His dick hit the back of her throat and she just went back to bobbing her head up and down. She moans and gags on his dick making him smirk. He knows he's big and he's so glad that his little wife is the only person allowed to see it and wrap around it perfectly.

She moved her mouth again and started to move her hand back up and down. He put his head back groaning and moaning.

"Sir, is everything okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine..." he says. Y/n just looked up at her husband before putting her mouth back around his dick, he bucked his hips up immediately and hitting the back of her throat. She gags on his dick making him smirk.

He grabs a handful of her hair again. She felt him twitch in her mouth, she moved her mouth and cum leaked from the corner of her mouth and cum leaked from his tip. She swallowed the cum in her mouth and licked his tip getting the rest off his tip.

She even licked his base getting the rest off. She looked up at him and smiled. He smirks and cup her chin and leaning down to kiss her lips.

He smirked and kissed her lips again. "I'll be down in a minute," he smirks. He turns off his camera, so, Y/n could leave the office. She got off the floor and kissed Price's lips.

"God, I fucking love you," he mumbles.

"I do too," she said.

She walked out of his office and shut his office door. She walked back to the kitchen to make herself something to eat along for something for Price to eat too.

----------

Price was done with the long meeting. He walks out of his office to get something to eat. He rubs the back of his neck; he was in pain from looking down so much and he needed to walk around, he hates sitting for a long time.

He walks into the kitchen and saw Y/n. She was making something; he smirks and walks around the corner. His eyes widened when he saw her in just an apron.

"Price-"

"Jesus, love," he said, moving his hand down his face.

"What? Is my apron not cute?" It was a white apron with red cherries scattered around it. It was a little apron and the end stopped at her mid-thigh.

"W-Wha-No, no, it's very cute...very, very, very cute," he smirks. "I just wasn't expecting you to...look so cute...and sexy...." he smirks.

She holds the bottom of her apron; Price could just barely see her pussy peeking out from the bottom.

"I just came down for a snack...but I think I may jump straight to dessert," he licks his lips. She just smiles knowing what he meant.

"Well then," she leans on the counter her ass out, elbows on the counter. "Eat up..." she smirks.

He licks his lips, and gets behind her, he smacks her ass earning a yelp from her. He smirks, he leaned to her shoulder and bites her shoulder earning yet another yelp and moan from her lips.

She felt him go down, his hands moved from her lower back to her butt and back of her thighs. He licks his lips and kisses her folds; she moans and moved her thighs together.

"Are you wet, love?" He teased, knowing she was.

"You already know I am," she said. He just chuckles at her.

He licks between her wet folds, she moans and brought her head down, she moans and pushed her butt out a little more.

He pushed his tongue inside of her. She moans and leans on the counter; she looked over her shoulder seeing him looking satisfied with fucking her with his tongue.

"P-Price..." she moans.

"Ssh~ love..." he says smirking.

She turns back and brought her hand behind the back of his head making him push his tongue deeper inside of her. She moans and her knees felt weak.

She almost fell but Price quickly picked her up, she whines not feeling his tongue inside of her anymore. He turns her around and put her on the counter bring her pussy to the edge of the counter. He goes back down and starts putting his tongue back inside of her.

Her feet were on his shoulders, her right hand on the back of his head and her left hand groping her left boob and moaning his name. Price's left hand grips her thigh and his right hand resting on her stomach.

"Ahh~! P-Price," she moans. She could feel herself about to cum in his mouth. He felt his tongue being squeezed by her lower half; he pulled his tongue out and saw white liquid pour out from her lower half.

He smirks and kisses her folds and licks his lips and licks her clean.

"God, you taste so good," he said licking his lips. She just moans every time, he licks her, feeling like she'll cum again if he keeps doing that. And she soon did.

"Love."

"I couldn't help it, you know what you're doing, and it felt good," she moans. He smirks before licking her again.

"O-Oh my god," she moans.

"Don't you cum again," he threatens.

"I-I can't h-help that," she moans.

He just smirks.

#cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod x reader #fandom #fanfic #call of duty #mw2 #cod #captain price #captain john price #price #cod price #price x reader #john price

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fuck-customers · 10 months ago

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Wtf is this audacity? I know we've all had customers argue with us about store policies/rules, etc, but has anyone else had a customer interrupt another customer asking YOU, THE EMPLOYEE a question to incorrectly answer the other customer's question as if they were an employee, and then argue with you, the employee when you corrected them?

What a weird situation.

I was helping Customer A when Customer B asked if she could use the restroom. The restroom was out of order that day, but before I could even get a single syllable out, customer A interjected with "yes! The bathrooms are back there and someone will open it for you!"

Um? No, the fuck they won't.

I told Customer B that the bathrooms are actually out of order today and yet again, Customer A opens her big, fat stupid mouth and tells Customer B to go back to the bathrooms, and also tells another customer who tried to ask about the bathrooms that they were open. I corrected him and he left without incident.

So now I'm irritated.

I turn to Customer A and say "oh I'm sorry, do you work here?" and tell Customer B that Customer A is NOT an employee and does NOT work here, but I do, and I know that the bathrooms are destroyed right now and are out of order.

Customer B seemed weirded out by the whole interaction (understandably) and left and Customer A proceeded to argue with me for the duration of her transaction. It was just bizarre.

Posted by admin Rodney.

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oftenwantedafton · 1 year ago

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Trapped - Steve Raglan/William Afton x Female Detective Reader

Chapter 1

Rating - Explicit

CW - blood and violence

Excerpt: You’re an adult now with several years of experience as a police officer behind you and the gun at your waist is a small comfort when you patrol the area. You shiver as your eyes scan the vacant lot, imagining shapes in the shadows where perhaps there are none. You are grateful it is closed, the front entrance encased in rusting steel bars and a thick padlock. You do not know if it is enough to keep new thieves out.

You pray it is enough to keep the evil inside.

Also available on AO3

The cracked mirror divides the man’s face by a jagged line, a dark scar that partitions his features. Blood spatters freckle skin and stain the creases that bracket icy blue eyes still illuminated with an inner light from the thrill of the murder he’d just committed. The crimson liquid mixes with perspiration, tracking down stubble coated cheeks, a lover’s caress tattooing a salted blood trail across pale flesh. He can smell the metals of that crimson life force, nearly taste it, even. The knife resting on the edge of the chipped porcelain sink is still dripping, rivulets painting spidery paths like blood vessels. A pair of gold framed glasses perch nearby, temporarily abandoned as they were unnecessary with the enhanced vision of the rabbit suit he’d worn.

He cups his hands under the spray of water from the faucet, letting it run cold over the long digits for a few moments before he bows down and splashes his face, rubs it over the back of his neck and lets it trickle over his upper body. He can still hear the symphony of screams, the fear and terror echoing in Parts and Service. He’d nearly forgotten how sweet that melody sounded.

He pulls an undershirt and dress shirt on, slinging a tie around his neck and sighs, almost regretful at concealing them again.

Suddenly the man leans forward, squinting and frowning at a stubborn bloodstained fingerprint on his shirt collar. It seems he’d been a bit careless cleaning up the evidence of his crime. He’ll have to use peroxide on that when he returns home. Home, he thinks, sneering. Well, not really his true home, but what he calls his dwelling. It’s a front, just like his position as a career counselor, just like the false accolades framed in the walls of his office and the name placard on his desk. Lies, all of it, but they all believe him, so gullible, so trusting. Adults or children; it makes no difference now.

He smiles humorlessly, eyes flickering to the mascot head he’d carried into the employee bathroom with him, its counterpart suit already stowed away securely. It’s deteriorating further, the fur and fabric wearing away with time, exposing metal and wires, lights and circuitry. Damaged, but still very much of use to his purpose, even after all this time.

Just like this old friend here. He caresses the blade for a moment, reliving the feeling as it had sunk into soft flesh. The possessed animatronic had started the bloodletting, and he had continued, long after the trap had mauled with razor sharp blades. He’d carved until there’d been very little left that was recognizable as a human being, let alone the middle aged security guard he’d hired earlier that week.

He’ll need to replace him, of course. There was still the problem of unwelcome intruders. But he had no doubts some other desperate soul would come along, eager for work, willing to do anything. Fate always provided.

He shuts the faucet off, wiping damp hands on his trousers, then drags a rag over the knife until it gleams in the floursescent lighting. He’ll need to sharpen it again, but that can wait for the morning.

Hooking two fingers inside the rabbit’s head he’d worn earlier, it lifts easily and William Afton begins humming as he exits the restroom.

***

You’ve heard the stories. Everyone who’s ever lived in Hurricane has. Perhaps they’re whispered late at night by a campfire, or uttered as a threat to misbehaving children, no mere ghost story or tall tale but a dark history of crimes committed by a killer who’s left no trail.

This was the terrifying legacy of Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza.

Never go near the abandoned pizzeria.

Everyone knew it. Back when the business had been operational, multiple children had consecutively gone missing, and even though authorities had searched thoroughly, multiple times, no trace of those kids had ever been found. It was as if they’d vanished into thin air, leaving their parents forever worrying and wondering, imagining the very worst had happened. Perhaps it had.

Perhaps the reality was even worse still.

Despite all of this, it didn’t stop occasional break-ins. Teenagers on a dare, thrill seekers, people looking for a way to earn money. There were bound to be plenty of copper pipes and wires, valuable sources of metal for construction. Arcade and change machines still loaded with cash. The animatronics themselves, with their complex inner workings, must be worth something.

Some trespassers had made it out, but they never seemed any richer. There were only more stories. The place was haunted. The animatronics moved, not in their preprogrammed state but of their own volition, wandering the halls, investigating the rooms. Sometimes people saw a yellow rabbit, taller than the other mascots, the costumed individual moving fluidly. Its eyes were silver and it laughed, low and mirthless.

You believed them, because you’d been to that restaurant, years ago as a child, to play the arcade games, to attend a classmate’s birthday party. You’d known even then something was wrong. You could never explain it. It was just a feeling. You could hear the establishment calling you, beckoning you, imploring you to explore further, to become a part of the wonder, the mystery within its depths.

Maybe it was the yellow rabbit trying to lure you in.

You’re an adult now with several years of experience as a police officer behind you and the gun at your waist is a small comfort when you patrol the area. You shiver as your eyes scan the vacant lot, imagining shapes in the shadows where perhaps there are none. You are grateful it is closed, the front entrance encased in rusting steel bars and a thick padlock. You do not know if it is enough to keep new thieves out.

You pray it is enough to keep the evil inside.

***

As it turns out, Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza has a new employee.

You see the car one morning as the sun is just rising, a rusted sedan seated in front of the main entrance. Parking nearby, you keep the engine running, watching as a young man likely in his 20’s emerges from the depths of the building, securing the heavy lock and chains before trudging to his vehicle. You can see smudges beneath his eyes. He looks exhausted, awkwardly fumbling in the pocket of his hoodie until he locates keys for the car. It’s then that he seems to notice you, his right hand frozen while inserting the key into the lock, the other hand clasping a worn looking copy of a book entitled Dream Theory.

You step out of the car, still not shutting off the engine, and introduce yourself, one hand still resting on the open door, as if you are ready to make a quick escape, to bolt from this wretched place once and for all. The other hitches in your belt, within reach of your firearm, the holster snap already unfastened.

The man nods cautiously, telling you his name is Mike Schmidt. He’s the new security guard working the night shift, he elaborates.

You ask if he’s seen or heard anything unusual, noting the hesitation before he shakes his head. Upon inquiring who hired him, you receive a name you don’t recognize, accepting the business card he digs from the pocket of his jeans. Steve Raglan, Career Counselor.

You warn him to be careful, eyeing the creased spine of the dog eared paperback one last time before you settle back inside the car, tapping the business card against the steering wheel thoughtfully. You follow the security guard out of the parking lot and then turn onto the freeway.

Perhaps you should pay this career counselor a visit.

#william afton x reader #william afton x you #steve raglan x reader #steve raglan x you

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delivish · 1 month ago

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Ask meme drabbles (2/???)

Next in the series of drabbles from this ask meme, this was requested by @southpark-trashfactory, who wanted either Bunny 23 or Stutters 22. Decided to do 22 with Stutters!

I got so carried away with this one 😭😭😭 I think I would literally pay to have someone continue this for me 😭😭😭

Divorced middle-aged dad Salesman AU, anyone?

22. … trying to play footsie with the other during a meeting - Stutters

Sometimes, Stan was convinced the universe had it out for him.

Wendy had finally left him, for one.

Stan wasn’t stupid; he’d known there were problems there. They had been more like roommates than husband and wife toward the end. Their marital bed had long since turned frosty and lifeless, and the concessions they'd made for weekend sex had eventually dwindled down to a couple times a month and then to only a couple times a year on birthdays and anniversaries, all the affection they'd once had for each other now turned solely toward their only son.

It would have been easy to blame Wendy for all their problems, but it wouldn’t have been fair. Truth was, they’d both been at fault for the breakdown in the marriage; too much time spent navigating life and career and family and not enough time spent on them, on all the things they could do to make each other happy, and by the time he’d realized it they’d been strangers and it was too late.

His drinking certainly hadn’t helped matters. But Stan had been sure—naively, perhaps—that their issues were nothing they couldn’t work through. After all, they’d been childhood sweethearts. He loved her, and Wendy loved him, and they both absolutely adored their son, who just so happened to be the brightest, sweetest, funniest, cutest kid ever—and Stan was well aware that every parent said that about their child, but in Jake’s case it was true.

Stan could be a cynic, but he’d always been a hopeless romantic deep down. It seemed silly now, but part of him had been hoping love would find a way, and he and Wendy could work through their issues—for Jake’s sake, if nothing else.

Stan sighed, zipping his fly and pausing at the sink to pass his cupped hands beneath the automatic soap dispenser.

Every Tuesday, he and the rest of the sales team filed into one of the conference rooms to discuss things in a meeting that, quite frankly, could have been summed up in an email. Their boss was a blowhard who liked to hear himself talk, but they always got lunch on him, so it wasn’t all bad.

Stan scrubbed his hands, eyeing himself in the mirror. He was only thirty-six, but his temples had already started to go gray, and there was salt in the tasteful bit of stumble dusting his chin and cheeks. Age and a persistent taste for beer had given him a bit of a gut, but he had a nice back, thick, strong arms, and big blue eyes that other people had described as his best feature.

Stan was still wearing his wedding ring. He scowled as he snatched up some paper towels and used one to tug open the employee restroom’s door. Wendy had taken hers off the day she served him with the divorce papers. It hurt to consider, but maybe there was no such thing as true love; maybe he’d always cared about her more than she’d cared about him.

Why else wouldn’t Wendy have been willing to give their family another chance?

Wendy kept the house. He wouldn’t have fought her on even if he had wanted it; the separation had been tough on Jake, and despite all their other issues, they’d both agreed that her keeping the house would be what’s best.

Stan had moved in with his old buddy Kyle. It was only ever supposed to be a temporary arrangement. Stan wasn’t too proud to admit that he’d spiraled after the divorce, though. The shock and pain of losing his family and getting fired from his last job had reduced him to a depressed, anxious, drunken wretch.

Stan winced in embarrassment, remembering all the nights he’d cried on Kyle’s shoulder—literally and figuratively. Kyle was his best friend in the whole world, but Kyle’s patience had its limits, and his friend had never been one to coddle him. Stan was honestly surprised Kyle had put up with him for as long as he had, considering what had started off as a couple nights on his couch had turned into a couple months and his own guest bedroom. Kyle had been living a high-flying bachelor lifestyle before he’d come along—Stan was sure having his sad, freshly divorced friend crashing his luxury apartment was hardly helping in the romance department.

But that was all over now—Stan had recently gotten a job as a sales rep for a local security company, and to his surprise, he’d been a natural at it, skyrocketing to one of the leads in a matter of weeks. He’d been sober for the last month, too, which was hardly any time at all, but for someone who’d always had a tenuous grasp on sobriety, it was an eternity. If he could only get a couple more commissions, he’d have more than enough money saved to get his own place.

If.

Stan stepped into the conference room and came face to face with the man who’d been making that goal a difficult one lately.

“Vic,” Stan greeted stiffly. His voice was icy with distaste.

Leopold—Vic, as he liked to call himself—cocked his head, smoothing down one corner of a mustache that looked as if a thick, hairy blond caterpillar had taken up residence on his upper lip. The rest of his face was smooth, his cheekbones prominent. They were about the same age, but Vic’s blond hair was full without a hint of gray, short on the back and sides and fluffy up top, and when he spoke, it was with a Southern accent like a drizzle of honey on his words, just the barest hint. Vic’s smile was coy.

“Mornin’, Stanley.”

Stan immediately fled to grab a cup of coffee from the Starbucks to-go carafe someone had brought. He didn’t even really like coffee, but he wanted an excuse to get away from Vic.

His real name was Leopold Stotch. No one in the office was quite sure why he insisted on calling himself Vic. He’d been an outside hire, and within a few weeks, Vic had completely dominated sales, bringing in new clients at an alarming rate, much to the delight of management, and had become the new darling of the sales team, bumping Stan from the top spot, much to his chagrin. Management had assured them it wasn’t a competition, but let’s be real here, the company wasn’t in the habit of keeping anyone who couldn’t make commission.

And all that would have been fine (Stan was no longer the favorite, but he was far from danger) if Vic hadn’t gone and stolen a client Stan had been working on right from under him. Ever since then, the man had been enemy number one.

“What’s this dude’s problem?” Stan muttered to Fiona, the coworker he’d been the closest to since starting, as he added a couple packs of raw sugar to his cup. Fiona grinned.

“Is he doing some kind of Saul Goodman cosplay or what?” she joked back. Vic certainly looked like it, with his well-tailored suits, expensive colognes, and glittering cufflinks. God, he was annoying.

“Stan,” Fiona ventured shyly, “some friends and I are heading out to a bar tonight. It’s just a casual thing. “You’re more than welcome if you’d like to come…?”

“Hm? Oh, I don’t drink,” Stan replied distractedly, still glaring at Vic from across the conference room. He had his back turned, speaking animatedly with their manager.

What a kiss-ass.

“O-Oh, neither do I,” Fiona amended quickly, blushing a little. “No worries! It’s an open invitation. We like to meet up at the Blu Oyster, so if you’re ever free…”

“Hm. Yeah, maybe some other time? Thanks, Fi,” Stan said, failing to nice Fiona’s fluttering lashes.

Stan moved to take a seat at the conference table and was both shocked and annoyed when Vic claimed the seat directly across from his own. Vic smiled again, coy as ever. Stan stared stonily. This guy had to know he didn’t like him. What gives?

“Let’s get started,” his manager announced, cutting out the lights and projecting a PowerPoint presentation on a whiteboard.

The meeting was about as boring as he’d expected. Stan sipped his coffee in the quiet, air-conditioned dark, listening to his manager’s droning, but no sooner had he gotten comfortable (discreetly checking his phone under the table) than he felt a light touch at his ankle.

Stan froze, his eyes darting wildly in his head. He glanced around the table, but no one was paying any attention to him, their eyes studiously glued on the presentation. The touch had been so brief Stan was sure he'd imagined it…but, no, there it was again. Soft and teasing, the unmistakable glide of someone's socked feet sliding along his ankle.

Vic.

There was no one else it could be. Vic’s eyes never left the presentation, his expression bored, but Stan sat, dumbfounded, as Vic slowly crawled one toe along his calf, riding Stan’s sensible slacks up higher and higher to expose more skin before slowly coming back down. Caressing Stan’s leg. Massaging one ankle with his toes.

Vic must have kicked his expensive loafers off under the table at some point to play footsie with him, and it was so stupid because Vic was still wearing his socks, and no actual skin-to-skin touching had happened, but Stan's face flushed as if it had.

Stan could have yelled. He could have made a fuss and stopped the meeting, but for some reason, he didn’t. His eyes had gone wide, his heart was hammering in his chest, and he wasn’t even pretending to watch the presentation anymore, but in the darkness, no one noticed.

As he stared, Vic suddenly inclined his head, made direct eye contact with him, and lightly ran his tongue over his lips before chasing the moisture away with his thumb. Stan flinched like he’d been shot, something curling low in his belly.

He stood up suddenly.

“Sorry, sir. Bathroom break,” he mumbled, his face flaming. His IBS issues were well documented. Without waiting for a response, Stan turned and fled the meeting.

#Drabbles #My writing #Stan Marsh #Leopold Stotch #SP Stutters #Middle-aged divorced dad yaoi #South Park

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sicknessbysalem · 2 months ago

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Day Ten: Flushed Cheeks (alternative prompt) | Sicktember 2024

for the people who wanted to see sick meadow and caretaker river, here's your snack!

if you have any requests, questions, comments, etc., send them my way!

tw emeto, scat, nausea, getting sick at a bad time

The early afternoon light streamed through the windows of the tavern, casting a warm glow on the rustic wooden tables. Meadow moved behind the bar with practiced ease, her usual bright energy carrying her through the start of her shift.

It was a slower day, the tavern not quite bustling with the evening crowd yet, and she welcomed the quiet. The steady hum of conversation from the few patrons filled the space, and Meadow found a certain comfort in the familiarity of it all.

She hummed softly to herself as she cleaned a row of glasses, her mind half-focused on her plans with River later that evening. They had made plans to spend the night together at River’s place, a quiet night in—something both of them were looking forward to. The thought of it made her smile, though a slight flutter in her stomach caught her attention.

Meadow brushed it off at first, chalking it up to excitement or maybe the lingering effects of skipping breakfast. She was used to the occasional bout of queasiness during a long shift, and it wasn’t enough to slow her down. She continued wiping down the counter, chatting briefly with a couple of regulars who had stopped in for an early drink.

But as the minutes passed, the flutter in her stomach grew more persistent. It wasn’t painful, just uncomfortable—like something wasn’t quite right. She paused, resting a hand on her abdomen for a moment, trying to gauge what was going on. Maybe it was something she ate? She couldn’t think of anything unusual, though.

As the afternoon wore on, Meadow’s stomach grew more unsettled. It was a slow, creeping discomfort, starting as a dull ache and gradually worsening with each passing minute. Her energy faltered slightly as she worked, though she tried her best to keep up appearances. She didn’t want anyone, least of all April, to worry. April had a sixth sense for when something was off, and Meadow didn’t want to cause a stir if this was just a passing thing.

By the time her break rolled around, the discomfort had become impossible to ignore. Her stomach churned, the ache now a deep, persistent knot that made her shift uneasily on her feet. She excused herself from the bar, heading toward the back where the employee restroom was. The walk to the bathroom felt longer than usual, each step sending a wave of discomfort through her gut.

As she entered the restroom, Meadow braced herself against the sink, taking a few deep breaths. She had thought it was just nausea at first—maybe the start of something—but now, standing there in the quiet of the bathroom, she realized it wasn’t nausea at all. It was something different, something deeper, and as her stomach clenched sharply, the realization hit her.

She barely had time to react before she hurried into the stall, her stomach cramping painfully. The moment she sat down, her body gave in, and a sudden, intense wave of diarrhea hit her. Meadow gasped softly, her hands gripping the sides of the seat as the cramping continued, her stomach twisting uncomfortably as it purged itself.

The relief was instant, but it came with a wave of exhaustion that left her leaning forward, her forehead resting in her hands as she tried to catch her breath. She hadn’t expected this—hadn’t even realized how bad it was until it hit her all at once. Her stomach gurgled loudly, the sounds filling the quiet bathroom as she endured another wave of cramps.

Meadow winced as her body continued to expel whatever was bothering it, each bout leaving her feeling more drained. The diarrhea was relentless, coming in sudden, sharp bursts that left her trembling slightly. She pressed her hand against her stomach, willing the cramping to stop, though the discomfort still lingered, a low, constant ache that made it clear she wasn’t done yet.

As she sat there, her mind wandered to River, the plans they had for the night. She had been looking forward to it all day, but now… now she wasn’t so sure she’d be able to make it. The thought made her stomach twist again, though this time, it wasn’t just physical. She didn’t want to cancel on River, didn’t want to ruin their night, but she couldn’t deny that her body was betraying her right now.

Minutes passed, and the worst of the bout seemed to ease. Meadow leaned back, her body feeling weak and shaky from the ordeal. She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, feeling the clammy sweat that had formed during the episode. Her stomach was still uneasy, though the cramps had lessened for the moment. She stayed seated for a while longer, not trusting herself to stand just yet, her thoughts swirling as she tried to figure out what to do next.

Meadow had somehow managed to make it through the rest of her shift, though it had been far from easy. Her stomach had settled for a while after that first episode, but the relief hadn’t lasted. Another round of cramping and diarrhea had hit her just before her break ended, sending her back to the bathroom in a rush. By the time she clocked out, she was exhausted and shaky, but still determined to head to River’s.

She hadn’t wanted to cancel their plans. The idea of spending the evening with River, cuddling on the couch and watching a movie, was the one thing keeping her going through the discomfort. Maybe, she thought, now that the workday was over, she could relax, and her stomach would ease up.

When she arrived at River’s place, the familiar warmth and comfort of the space instantly made her feel more at ease. River greeted her with a soft smile and a warm hug, their embrace grounding her as she tried to push the lingering unease in her stomach aside.

“Hey, love,” River said softly, pressing a kiss to the top of Meadow’s head. “You look tired. Long day?”

Meadow smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah, long day. But I’m glad to be here now.”

They made their way to the living room, where the soft glow of the television bathed the room in a calming light. Meadow sank into the couch beside River, curling up against them as they wrapped an arm around her shoulders. The scent of River’s familiar cologne mixed with the comforting smell of their home, and for a moment, Meadow allowed herself to relax.

They picked a movie—a lighthearted one—and let it play in the background as they settled into each other’s company. Meadow leaned her head against River’s shoulder, her body seeking the comfort and warmth they always provided. But despite the cozy atmosphere, her stomach had other ideas.

It started with a faint gurgling, a soft, low sound that Meadow could feel more than hear. Her gut twisted slightly, and she shifted on the couch, hoping to ease the discomfort without drawing attention to it. She didn’t want to ruin the evening, didn’t want River to worry about her. But as the minutes ticked by, the gurgling grew louder, and her stomach started cramping again, the familiar pressure building inside her.

River, ever perceptive, must have noticed the slight tension in Meadow’s body. Without saying a word, they gently rested their hand on her stomach, their thumb moving in slow, comforting circles. Meadow’s initial instinct was to flinch away, embarrassed by the gurgling sounds and the discomfort, but the soothing motion of River’s hand eased some of the tension, and she allowed herself to relax against them.

For a moment, it worked. The warmth of River’s touch seemed to calm her stomach, and she closed her eyes, focusing on the steady rhythm of their hand as it moved over her abdomen. But just as quickly as the relief had come, her stomach turned again, this time with a vengeance.

What had once been soothing now felt like a trigger. The pressure in her stomach intensified, and Meadow knew immediately that things had taken a turn for the worse. The cramps were sharper now, more urgent, and she felt a sudden wave of nausea roll through her.

She tensed, pulling away from River’s touch, though she tried not to make it obvious. “I’ll be right back,” she muttered, her voice tight as she stood up, not waiting for River’s response.

River’s brows furrowed in concern, but they didn’t press her as she hurried out of the room and down the hallway to the bathroom. Meadow barely made it inside before the cramping hit full force. She sat down quickly, her stomach churning violently as the diarrhea started again, her body giving in to the discomfort she had been trying to ignore all night.

She leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees, her hands pressed to her forehead as her stomach twisted painfully. The cramps were relentless, wave after wave of them hitting her with a force that left her breathless. Her stomach gurgled loudly, the sounds echoing in the quiet bathroom as her body purged itself yet again.

But this time, something was different. As the cramps continued, a new sensation rose in the back of her throat—an unmistakable nausea that made her stomach lurch. Meadow swallowed hard, her heart racing as she fought against the sudden urge to throw up. She closed her eyes, taking shallow breaths as the nausea swirled inside her, the sour taste of bile creeping up her throat.

For a few agonizing moments, she was sure she wouldn’t be able to hold it back. Her mouth watered, her stomach roiled, and she hovered on the edge of vomiting, her body trembling with the effort it took to stay in control. But somehow, she managed to fight it down. The nausea remained, a heavy, uncomfortable presence in her gut, but the immediate threat passed.

Meadow leaned back, her head resting against the cool wall of the bathroom, her breaths coming in short, shallow bursts. She felt drained, both physically and emotionally, her body weak from the constant strain it had been under all day. She stayed there for a while, waiting for the cramps to subside and for the nausea to fade enough for her to move.

When she finally stood up, her legs wobbled slightly, and she had to steady herself against the counter. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror—her face pale, her cheeks flushed, a light sheen of sweat on her forehead. She looked as bad as she felt.

Meadow splashed some cold water on her face, hoping it would help her feel a little more composed before heading back out to River. She didn’t want to worry them any more than she already had, but there was no hiding the exhaustion and discomfort etched into her features.

When she returned to the living room, River was sitting on the edge of the couch, their expression tense with concern. They stood up the moment Meadow appeared, their eyes scanning her face for any sign of what had happened.

“Hey… are you okay?” River asked softly, their voice filled with quiet worry.

Meadow forced a smile, though it was weak. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… my stomach’s still acting up a bit. It’s nothing, really.”

River didn’t look convinced. They stepped closer, their hand reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair away from Meadow’s flushed face. “You don’t look fine,” they said softly, their brow furrowed as they studied her. “You’re really flushed.”

Meadow shrugged, trying to downplay it. “I’m just tired. It’s been a long day, and I think I ate something bad earlier. I’ll be okay.”

River hesitated, their eyes lingering on Meadow’s face, but after a moment, they nodded, letting it go—for now. “Alright,” they said quietly. “But if it gets worse, you’ll tell me, right?”

Meadow nodded, offering them a reassuring smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I promise.”

River still looked worried, but they didn’t press further. Instead, they wrapped an arm around Meadow’s shoulders and led her back to the couch, where they curled up together again, though the atmosphere was a little heavier now. Meadow leaned against them, her body still tense from the discomfort, but she was grateful for their quiet support.

As the movie played on in the background, Meadow closed her eyes, hoping that this time, her body would give her a break. She didn’t want to ruin their night, and with River by her side, she felt a little more at ease—though the lingering nausea in her stomach was a constant reminder that things weren’t quite right.

Meadow had hoped her body would calm down, that the worst had passed, and she could enjoy the rest of the night with River in peace. But as the movie played on, a quiet tension settled over her again. Her stomach, which had been somewhat calm after the last bathroom trip, began to stir once more. At first, it was just an uneasy gurgle, like before, but this time, it was different—more intense, more urgent.

She shifted slightly against River, trying to find a position that would ease the discomfort, but it wasn’t working. Her stomach churned again, this time sharper, a sudden cramp doubling her over slightly as she clutched her abdomen. She hoped it was just another passing wave, but the nausea that accompanied it quickly became impossible to ignore.

River felt it before they saw it—the sudden tension in Meadow’s body, the way her chest tightened against them, and then the unmistakable gag as her stomach rebelled. They turned to look at her, concern flashing in their eyes as they took in her appearance. Meadow was pale—far paler than before—and her eyes were wide with panic, her hand clamped tightly over her mouth as if trying to hold back the inevitable.

“Meadow?” River asked, their voice laced with worry. But there was no time for an answer.

Meadow barely had the strength to shake her head before the nausea surged forward with a force that left her helpless. She stood up, half-stumbling as she tried to get to the bathroom, her hand still pressed firmly to her mouth, her body shaking with the effort to keep it in. But it was no use. Before she could even make it halfway, her stomach gave in.

The first wave hit her hard, her body convulsing violently as she threw up, her stomach emptying itself onto the coffee table in front of her. The sound was wet and harsh, a splatter that filled the quiet room as her body purged itself, leaving her trembling and gasping for air. Her knees buckled slightly, and she leaned forward, clutching the back of the couch for support as another wave hit her, sending more of her stomach’s contents spilling out uncontrollably.

River was at her side in an instant, their hand on her back, their eyes wide with concern. “Meadow—hold on, I’ll grab something—” they began, but before they could move, Meadow gagged again, her body wracked with another heave.

“I can’t—” Meadow managed to gasp, her voice strained as she clamped her hand back over her mouth. The nausea was overwhelming now, a suffocating pressure in her chest and throat that left her feeling trapped in her own body. Worse yet, she could feel the cramping in her stomach shifting lower, the all-too-familiar signal that she needed the toilet as well.

River quickly grabbed a bucket from under the sink, rushing back to Meadow just in time to see her stagger toward the bathroom, her body clearly fighting on two fronts now. “I’m right behind you,” they said quickly, their voice calm despite the chaos.

Meadow barely made it to the bathroom before she collapsed onto the toilet, her stomach cramping violently as diarrhea hit her all at once. The relief was instant, but it came with a price—her body was overwhelmed by the intensity of it all, and before she could even catch her breath, the nausea surged again.

River was right there, holding the bucket up to her just as another wave of vomit ripped through her. Meadow’s body convulsed as she threw up into the bucket, the sound of her retching filling the small bathroom. Each heave was powerful and uncontrollable, her body wracked with tremors as her stomach continued to empty itself. But the diarrhea didn’t stop, either, and with each forceful heave, her lower body clenched painfully, expelling more in unison with her vomiting.

The dual assault on her body left her feeling utterly helpless. Every time she thought it was over, her stomach would tighten again, sending another surge of nausea and cramps through her. The bucket in front of her was quickly filling with vomit, her body giving her no respite as the vomiting and diarrhea continued in a relentless cycle.

River knelt beside her, their hand resting on her back, trying to offer some comfort in the midst of it all. “You’re okay,” they murmured softly, their voice steady and calm despite the chaos. “Just breathe, Meadow. You’re doing great.”

Meadow groaned, her voice weak and hoarse as she leaned over the bucket, another wave of vomit spilling out of her. Her body was trembling uncontrollably, the sheer force of the vomiting leaving her breathless and exhausted. But even as she emptied her stomach, the cramps in her abdomen told her there was still more to come, both from her stomach and her lower end.

“I can’t… I can’t stop,” she gasped between heaves, her voice barely a whisper. Her face was flushed and damp with sweat, her body shaking as she fought to regain control.

River, sensing her distress, shifted closer, their hand moving from her back to her stomach. “Let me help,” they said softly, pressing gently against her abdomen.

The pressure was exactly what Meadow needed. As River’s hand moved in slow, firm circles over her stomach, the cramping seemed to ease slightly, enough for her body to continue expelling everything without the overwhelming sense of being trapped in her own misery. She leaned into their touch, her breath hitching as another wave of nausea hit her, though this time, the vomiting wasn’t as violent.

Meadow’s body continued to purge itself, her stomach convulsing with each heave, though the pressure from River’s hand seemed to help things move more smoothly. The cramps in her abdomen were still sharp, but the added pressure kept them from overwhelming her, and she could feel her body starting to calm, even as it forced the last remnants of the sickness out.

Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, the vomiting slowed, and Meadow was left gasping for breath, her body slumped against the toilet as she tried to catch her breath. The diarrhea had slowed too, though the ache in her stomach lingered, a dull reminder of what she had just been through.

River stayed by her side the entire time, their hand still resting on her abdomen, their touch warm and steady. “You did great,” they murmured softly, brushing a strand of sweat-soaked hair from her face. “Just rest now. It’s over.”

Meadow nodded weakly, too exhausted to speak. Her body felt heavy and drained, her muscles trembling from the effort it had taken to purge everything. She leaned her head back against the wall, her breath still coming in shallow gasps as she closed her eyes, grateful for the moment of stillness.

River stayed close, their hand never leaving her stomach as they offered quiet comfort. “You’re okay, Meadow. I’ve got you.”

After what felt like an eternity in the bathroom, Meadow and River finally made their way back to the living room. Meadow’s legs trembled with exhaustion, and her body felt heavy, like she’d been through a battle. Her stomach was still tender, though the cramps had eased, and the nausea had subsided for the moment. All she wanted now was to lie down and forget about the chaos her body had just put her through.

River helped her back to the couch, guiding her gently with a hand on her back. “Come on, let’s get you comfortable,” they murmured softly, their voice filled with quiet concern. Meadow was grateful for their steady presence—River always seemed to know what to do, what to say, even in moments like these when she felt completely drained.

Once she was settled on the couch, Meadow curled up on her side, her head resting against a soft pillow. River sat beside her, their hand moving instinctively to her hair, fingers gently threading through the strands in a comforting rhythm. Meadow sighed, her body relaxing a little more with each stroke of River’s hand. For the first time in hours, she felt like she could actually breathe again.

“You’re burning up, you know,” River said quietly after a few minutes, their fingers brushing against the warmth of her forehead. “You’ve got a fever.”

Meadow groaned softly, her eyes half-closed as she tried to focus on anything other than the lingering ache in her stomach. “Yeah, I figured,” she muttered, her voice hoarse. “Feels like it’s just one thing after another tonight.”

River frowned, their fingers still moving gently through her hair. “We’ll take it easy, alright? Just rest. Hopefully, your body will give you a break soon.”

Meadow nodded, though she wasn’t entirely sure her body would cooperate. The nausea had been relentless earlier, and even now, she could feel it lurking beneath the surface, a dull unease in her gut that wouldn’t fully go away. But she didn’t want to dwell on it. She just wanted to lie there, with River beside her, and pretend for a little while that everything was okay.

For a while, things did seem to settle. Meadow’s breathing slowed, and River’s touch lulled her into a calm, sleepy state. Her body felt heavy with exhaustion, and she could feel the edges of sleep pulling at her, even though the fever left her skin hot and uncomfortable.

But just as she started to drift off, her stomach gave a sudden, sharp gurgle. Meadow tensed, her eyes snapping open as the familiar sensation of nausea returned—this time, more urgent. She swallowed hard, trying to push it down, willing her stomach to calm. But the tightness in her chest and throat told her that wasn’t going to happen.

River must have felt the shift in her body because they immediately paused, their hand still resting lightly on her hair. “Meadow?” they asked softly, their voice full of concern. “Are you okay?”

Meadow clenched her jaw, forcing a tight nod. “I’m fine,” she whispered, though the words felt like a lie. Her stomach churned again, a sickening wave of nausea rolling through her, leaving her breathless. She tried to fight it, tried to keep her body under control, but it was a losing battle. She could feel the nausea rising, building into something she couldn’t ignore.

River sat up, their eyes scanning her face with growing worry. “Meadow, you don’t look fine,” they said, their tone gentle but firm. “Do you need the bathroom?”

Meadow swallowed again, the saliva in her mouth thick as her stomach tightened painfully. She knew she wasn’t going to win this fight. The nausea was too strong, too overwhelming, and her body was already preparing for the inevitable. With a soft groan, she nodded, her hand instinctively moving to cover her mouth.

“I think I’m gonna…” she whispered, her voice trailing off as the nausea surged forward.

River didn’t hesitate. They gently helped Meadow sit up, quickly gathering her hair into a loose hold, their fingers steady and reassuring as they guided her toward the bathroom. “I’m right here,” they said softly, their voice a soothing presence amidst the rising panic.

Meadow barely made it to the toilet before the nausea became too much to bear. She dropped to her knees, her body convulsing as the first wave of vomit hit her, spilling out into the toilet with a violent force. It was a harsh, wet sound that echoed in the small bathroom, her stomach emptying itself in great, heaving bursts.

River knelt beside her, keeping a firm grip on her hair as they gently rubbed her back with their other hand. “Let it out,” they murmured, their voice calm and steady. “You’re okay, just let it out.”

Meadow didn’t have the energy to respond. Her body was completely focused on purging itself, each heave more powerful than the last. The vomit came in waves, her stomach convulsing uncontrollably as she emptied everything she had left. Her hands gripped the sides of the toilet, her knuckles white as her body shook with the effort it took to keep going.

It seemed to go on forever. Every time Meadow thought it was over, her stomach would tighten again, sending another surge of vomit up her throat. The taste was bitter and foul, burning her throat and leaving her gasping for breath between heaves. She could feel the sweat beading on her forehead, her entire body trembling with the exertion.

River stayed with her through it all, their hand a constant, soothing presence on her back. “You’re doing great,” they whispered softly, their voice a gentle reassurance. “Just breathe, Meadow. You’re almost done.”

Meadow gagged again, another rush of vomit spilling out of her as her stomach clenched painfully. It was abundant, thick and forceful, and she could feel her body growing weaker with each heave. Her head was spinning, the room tilting slightly as she tried to catch her breath between bouts of vomiting.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the waves of nausea began to slow. Meadow’s body slumped forward, her forehead resting against the cool edge of the toilet seat as she gasped for air. Her stomach felt hollow and raw, the muscles sore from the effort of vomiting, but the worst seemed to be over.

River kept their hand on her back, their fingers moving in slow, gentle circles. “You did great,” they whispered, their voice soft and filled with quiet concern. “It’s over now.”

Meadow nodded weakly, her eyes closed as she tried to steady her breathing. Her body still trembled slightly, the aftershocks of the intense vomiting leaving her feeling drained and exhausted. She felt like she had nothing left to give—her stomach had completely emptied itself, and the fever was making her feel light-headed and weak.

River stayed with her for a few more moments, making sure she was stable before they helped her sit back, offering her a glass of water. “Here, rinse your mouth,” they said gently, holding the glass for her as she swished the cool liquid around before spitting it into the toilet.

Meadow leaned back against the bathroom wall, her body slumping with exhaustion. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice hoarse from the strain of vomiting. “I didn’t mean to ruin the night…”

River shook their head, their expression soft and full of understanding. “You didn’t ruin anything,” they said quietly, their hand still resting on her shoulder. “I just want you to feel better.”

Meadow closed her eyes, too tired to argue. “I don’t know if I have anything left,” she muttered, her voice barely audible.

River smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Good,” they said gently. “That means you can rest now.”

#emeto #sickfic #emeto fic #emetophilia #emeto cw #emeto tw #fever cw #fever tw #emeto writer #sicktember 2024 #sicktember 2024 day ten

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bawltongue · 1 year ago

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(jonathan davis x stealth transmasc reader <on t, post op top surgery>. takes place in early 90s. you unexpectedly meet jd in the bathroom after a show, attempting to comfort him after he gets sick, only for Jon to comfort you in return)

18+ !!!!!!!

warning: substance use (alcohol, marijuana), vomit mentioned, smut, (ftm) anatomy, lots of swearing

Jonathan davis x transmasc reader

You couldn’t believe you had the opportunity to finally see your favorite band in person. Korn had been high up on your radar for a couple years now, and seeing them perform live seemed like a dream. Initially, it felt kind of weird to be there on your own. Usually you would’ve preferred to go to a concert with a friend, but when the chance to buy a ticket arose, all you could think about in the moment was securing your spot. This was special.

The performance had been going on at this point for a good hour and forty five minuets, and you had been animalisticly screaming along the lyrics to each song the entire time. Your voice was pretty blown out, cracking and fading, borderline inaudible; but the music was so loud, nobody could hear you anyways. Either way, it’s not like you’d care if anybody could hear you. Your focus was so heavily fixated on Jonathan, nobody else mattered. His vocals, the way he moved and flipped his hair, the sweat gleaming off of his body. For quite a few moments, you zoned out in your fixation and it felt as if you two were the only ones present.

The crowd of people filed out of the venue steadily as the songs went on. Before the middle of the show, nearly everybody was already a sweaty, drunken, fucked up mess. It was about 3 AM when Korn played their last song, and a good eighty percent of the crowd had left before the end of it. Understandably so; the venue was small, un air conditioned and dark. It reeked of vomit, cigarettes, beer, a tinge of piss, and anything else pungent you’d smell at a metal concert full of wasted 20 somethings. Though you were so immersed in the music, the beauty and finesse of the band members… the odors and obnoxious sounds of the onlookers around you didn’t permeate your high of being so close to the men you’ve looked up to and religiously listened to for so long. Nothing could kill this feeling of happiness and awe… until-

Wait, no fucking way. They just finished playing the last song. They’re walking off stage? No, fuck. It’s over? Already?

The post concert depression hit you almost immediately as it felt like you had simply blinked and the members of Korn were exiting the stage. You played it cool and clapped and shouted just like everyone else did, but damn if tears didn’t well up in your eyes a little bit. You took a deep breath, looked around the venue and realized you were the last one clapping. Not only that, but you were also the last one not making their way out yet. The adrenaline buzzing through your body started to fade as you realized how out of breath, uncomfortable and hot you were.

“Yo, there a bathroom in here?” You got the attention of what looked to be an employee, maybe a bodyguard of some sort.

“Yeah, mens’ is right over there.” He gestured to a puny, dimly lit hallway in the back of the venue.

You nodded your head in thanks and turned as a coy smile spread across your lips. You’ve been passing for a while now, but it never stops feeling good to be validated as a man.

You made your way to the restroom and over to a sink to splash some water on your face. The room temperature liquid felt ridiculously relieving on your sticky skin. The water got all over the front of your shirt, but was indistinguishable from all the sweat you had exuded during the evening.

“URRGHHUA-“ The sound of a guttural heave followed by somebody spitting into a toilet made your eyes bulge open in surprise. You thought you were the only person in the restroom.

“Ugh, fuck me-“ Followed by another harsh gag echoed through the bathroom.

“Hey man, uh, you okay?” You stuttered out somewhat nervously. You weren’t really one to start conversation with strangers, but you were a sympathetic person more than anything. Plus, the exhaustion you felt kind of drowned out any feelings of profound anxiety.

“Oh shit, yeah. Sorry man, haha, that probably sounded really fuckin’ gross.” The disembodied voice responded, slightly slurring his words. “I’m just drunk as hell… you mind uh, helping me out maybe?”

You glanced down under the stall to see long legs awkwardly sprawled out on the dirty floor. Stained black adidas sweats attached to what you assumed was a torso hunched over the toilet. The sleepiness and mild disconnect humming in your brain after such an intense night made it so you couldn’t connect the dots between the familiar voice and pants.

The lock clicked and the door slightly creaked open, but not enough for you to see who was in the stall. Taking a couple steps over, with no second thought, you pulled the door outward to offer a helping hand.

“Oh fuck!-“ Choking on a sharp gasp, Jonathan Davis’ glazed, red tinted eyes met with your own. You felt a rush of heat fill your body as blush spread across your face. Jonathan Davis of Korn was probably the last person you were expecting to see sitting on the floor of a filthy bathroom at 3:20 in the morning. Asking for your help. He raised his eyebrows up at you curiously, outstretching a shaky hand.

“You’re staring. Do I got barf runnin’ down my lip or something?” He smiled goofily, gesturing again for you to take his hand and help him up.

“Sorry, I just- I’m totally surprised to see you! I’ve been a fan for so motherfucking long. I’m kinda like- whoa- I mean, you played such a badass show-” You stuttered, hurriedly bending down to take his arm over your shoulders. You tried to play it cool, but felt pretty embarrassed over your inability to keep your fanboying to a low. His legs shook a bit as you hoisted him up off of the floor and to his feet. He was taller then expected. Taller then you at least.

He chuckled in response to your comment, turning his head toward you. You felt his breath on your face; it fucking reeked. Yet it caused your heartbeat to increase even more then it already had.

“Thank you. You know, I think I noticed you from the stage. I swear I saw you going fuckin’ crazy during Faget.” He smiled warmly and took a wobbly step toward the sink, arm still wrapped over your shoulders as you helped him steady himself.

“Yeah, heh. I just get into it, man. I love your music… Shit I won’t lie, I’m a little bit embarrassed.”

He took his arm from around your shoulders and balanced himself on the sink, turning the faucet on. He cupped his hand to catch water and looked at you through the mirror while hunched over.

“No need to be embarrassed. That’s the kinda shit I live for. I appreciate it a lot.” He took a sip of water from his hand before swishing it around his mouth and spitting it back out. His eyes rolled back slightly as he splashed water on his face, letting it drip back into the sink. You stood behind him anxiously, rocking back and forth not knowing what to say.

“You seem pretty nervous. I got something that might make you feel better, if you wanna head out back with me?” He asked, turning around to face you suddenly, stumbling a bit in the motion. You tensed up, meeting his gaze.

Is he asking me to hang out right now?

“You want me to come out back with you? Like now?”

He chuckled softly and put his hand on your shoulder, squeezing it gently.

“Yeah, like now. If that’s cool with you. I kinda like your presence… I dunno, I’m drunk man. It’d be cool to hang with someone new.” Jon bit his lip and raised his brow as his gaze darted between your lips and back up to your eyes for a moment. It made your face grow hot. “Besides, what else is there to do?”

“Well shit, you make a good point. I’d fuckin’ love to chill with you man.” You felt his grip on your shoulder tighten slightly as you agreed. He grinned widely, still pretty intoxicated as he slung his arm over your shoulders once again. Leading the way out of the restroom, you both made your way out of a door next to the stage area that spat you out on the side of the building. The thick scent of weed and cigarettes smacked you in the face as the door swung open. Honestly smelled pretty damn good compared to the interior of the venue.

“Aw fuck yeah, my man Head never fails me.“ Jon pulled you over to a bench that had a little baggie sitting on it. “Let’s sit, hm?”

You both sat down, Jonathan picking the bag up and emptying the contents in his hand. A perfectly rolled joint and a bright red lighter. Head had obviously left it there for Jon, knowing he’d be coming out after his puketastic bathroom adventure.

“I want you to take the first hit.” He held the joint up to your lips between his fingers.

“You sure? I feel bad smoking your weed, you don’t even know me. I mean I appreciate it of course, but-“ You were interrupted by the click of a lighter.

“I’m sure. I’m gonna know you soon anyways, right?”

You shrugged and inhaled, the familiar taste of smoke filled up your mouth. The second your lips peeled away from the joint, Jon took a huge hit, leaning his head back and blowing it straight up. You couldn’t help but stare dumbly at him as smoke poured out of your mouth. Him throwing his head back like that made risky things run through your mind.

Hit after hit, you lost track of how much the two of you had smoked due to how stoned you became with each exhale. Between sharing the joint, you had conversation about where you’re from, what hobbies you guys have, favorite music, what high school was like; general ‘getting to know each other’ talk. You just couldn’t fully believe you were having casual conversation with Jonathan fucking Davis. Though the higher you got, the easier it was to converse.

“Shit, you know what? You listened to me throw up, saw drool fall outta my mouth, we smoked half of my joint, and I don’t even know your name.” Jon stared at you, his eyes as beet red as your own. The sight made you giggle.

“It’s Y/N. Damn, I’m high as fuck.”

He laughed out loud, his smile causing his eyes to squint. He had such a cute laugh, not what you would’ve expected judging by his stage presence. His reaction arose another giggle inside of you as you shyly covered your mouth with your hand.

“You’re fuckin’ cute, Y/N. Wanna try something weird?”

His words made your heart flutter. An obvious blush spread across your cheeks. You nodded in response, a goofy smile plastered on your face unbeknownst to you.

“Alright, just let me lead. I’m gonna take a hit of this and pass it to you.”

He angled his body toward you and you followed suit, both of you awkwardly facing each other. Half of the joint remained. It felt like you had smoked so much more then that. You were so goddamn high. Jon was too, but wasn’t nearly as transparent about it.

He lit it up and inhaled deeply, holding the smoke in his mouth and quickly placing the joint down to his side so both of his hands were free. He nodded for consent as he bore into your glazed eyes. As soon as you nodded back, his hands gently steadied the sides of your face as he ever so lightly touched his lips against yours. Both of you opened your mouths simultaneously as he exhaled and you inhaled. Your lips were touching so softly. It made your stomach flip. He pulled away, but kept his hands on your cheeks as he watched your expression closely.

“I like your sideburns.” He rubbed his thumb against your face gently, feeling your facial hair. “Fuck, I’m high as shit too.” He bit his lip as his cheeks began to flush red. You could just barely see the tint of his face change with the streetlights glimmering on you both. You smiled shyly as his compliment dug its way into your brain.

“I like yours too.” You sheepishly responded.

“Here.” Jon lifted your hand up and placed it on his own face so you could feel them. A smirk spread across his lips. “This is the gayest fuckin’ thing I’ve done all week.”

“Is that a good or bad thing?” You felt your breath hitch, worried that he wasn’t feeling the electricity you were.

“It ain’t bad. You’re pretty as hell. I saw you rockin’ out from the stage and I was like; ‘damn, that guy is… attractive’. Then i saw you in the bathroom and I was like, ‘shit here’s my chance’. Is that weird?”

You were so taken aback by his words. It didn’t seem real. Is he fucking serious right now?

“I’m sorry, I’m forreal so fucked up right now. That was probably weird for me to say, wasn’t it? I don’t usually do this stuff with guys. I’m a lot smoother with wome-”

Before he had even finished speaking, you put your other hand on his face, pulling him toward you for a kiss. You were so stoned, so ridden of anxiety and morality, it just seemed like the right thing to do. His lips were dry and tasted like Jack Daniel’s and potent weed. You pulled away and locked eyes.

“You’re really fucking cute, Jon. Like, I’m into you.”

His eyes widened and he smiled uncontrollably, fully displaying his crooked teeth.

“I’m into you too, Y/N. I wanna get to know you, but, uh…” He bit his lip and stared down at his lap tentatively. His face was so red.

“What? You’re acting shy all of a sudden?” You smirked and placed a hand on his thigh, nudging him to finish his sentence.

“I really wanna get to know you, but I also wanna fuck you so bad right now.”

You gulped and froze, not expecting him to feel such strong attraction toward you. You didn’t expect him to have any attraction toward you at all, let alone wanting to bone you on the spot like this. Was it because he was so fucked up? Or would he feel this way regardless? Snapping back into reality, you realized his dark, tired eyes were fixated on you, looking you up and down. Sweat beaded at your forehead in anticipation and hesitation. Not only was your favorite vocalist thirsting after you, but you had never been with anybody who hadn’t known you were trans before getting intimate. Actually, you hadn’t been with many people at all. You had no idea how to initiate the conversation, so the best you squeaked out was;

“Can we start slow?”

A warm smile eased onto Jons’ face. He scooped your legs up from the underside of your knees and scooted closer, placing your legs on top of his lap.

“I’m not gonna fuck you here on this bench. Well, I mean, unless you’re into that.” He gave you no time to respond as his lips crashed into yours, rougher then your first kiss, but gentle enough. He placed one hand behind your neck and the other on your thigh, giving it a light squeeze that caused your lips to part for a moment. His thumb affectionately graced the back of your neck as you tasted each others lips. Jon pulled back for a moment.

“You doing okay?” He asked, still rubbing his thumb against your hairline.

“Yeah. I’m really good. What about you?”

“I’m fuckin’ great. You have really soft lips.” He licked his own lips for a second before biting them and scanning your figure again. “Damn, you’re really fuckin’ handsome. It feels right to be here with you right now.” He slurred out before leaning in for another kiss.

This one was a bit sloppier. He began biting your bottom lip and licking your teeth until you finally granted his tongue entrance to your mouth. When you did he let out a soft, sweet moan that made your mouth vibrate. The sound of his enjoyment mixed with the feeling of his tongue in your mouth caused wetness to pool in your boxers. His hand moved lower on your waist and pulled you closer until you were essentially sat on his lap. You could feel how hard he was through his sweats and couldn’t believe it. Knowing that you had him so turned on just drove you even crazier.

A string of spit connected your swollen lips as the both of you pulled away momentarily for air.

“You’re so hard. Did I do this to you?” You asked teasingly.

“Fuck yeah you did. I’m about to fuckin’ lose my shit, Y/N. You’re so hot.” He leaned into the nook of your neck and began leaving soft kisses and bites on your skin. Both his hands now holding your waist.

“Can I mark you up, baby boy?”

The question sent chills down your spine.

“As much as you want to.”

The green light you gave had him impatiently and passionately sucking and licking on your neck. Your thighs squeezed together in an attempt to keep your tdick under control. Moans and curses escaped your mouth as his lips, teeth and tongue marked and grazed your skin; which only encouraged him further. His hands began to snake up the sides of your shirt. You froze for a moment, remembering you hadn’t told him you’re trans yet.

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” Jon pulled away worriedly and raised his eyebrows, trying to read your expression.

“Not at all. You’re doing such a good job. I just… I don’t- I have to tell you something before we get too far and I’m scared It’s gonna weird you out or something.” Tears welled up in your eyes slightly as anxiety begin to fill up your chest.

“Oh shit. You have AIDS or something?”

“No, motherfucker.” You fought back a snicker. “I don’t have any STD’s.”

Jon sighed in relief, grabbing your hands and holding them tight.

“I promise I’m not gonna judge you. I already like you.”

You took a deep breath and thought about how you could phrase this. The concoction of exhaustion and intoxication flooding through you caused you to simply lift your shirt to showcase your top surgery scars to him. Sometimes saying nothing speaks the loudest.

His eyes widen and fixate on your chest and torso as he puts his hands back on either side of your bare waist.

“I get it.” He said, tapping his fingertips along your skin. “Your scars look great… and shit, you’re almost as hairy as me, huh?” He snickered out, trying to ease the tension to let you know he really didn’t mind at all.

“It’s cool.” He adjusted your legs so you were straddling his lap now, rather then sitting with your legs pressed together. “I’m glad you trust me with your body. It’s fuckin’ sexy.”

You dropped your shirt back down as your hands covered your face. You could feel his throbbing member against your hole now that he readjusted your position on his lap.

“You’re not just saying that to get your dick wet?” You mumble through your fingers.

“What? Naw, I think you’re beautiful… handsome- I think you’re handsome. I said I wanted to fuck you and get to know you. You bein’ trans don’t change none of that. I just got to know you a lil more, that’s all.” He moved your hands down from your face and kissed your nose lightly, making you smile. His reassurance felt very genuine.

“Thank you, Jon. You have no idea how much that means to me… Fuck, I feel so much better. Come kiss me again.” You placed your hands on the back of his head, intertwining his dreads with your fingers before he smushed his face into yours with impatience. His tongue slithered past your teeth and onto yours. It was hard to ignore the subtly desperate humping of his hips up into you as you sat straddling him. The friction, or lack thereof, was driving you both crazy. With his dreads looped through your fingers, you gave a light tug that caused a moan to emit from his mouth into yours.

“Shit, I want you so bad.” He whispered, boring into your eyes with a look that can only be described as desire and seriousness. His desperation made you feel powerful. You never thought you’d be so close to Jon, never thought his dark, lustful eyes would be piercing yours. His arms would be around your waist and tongue in your mouth. The surge of tension and emotions between you had you both forgetting your location; a dirty bench on the outside of a crummy club.

“As bad as I want you too, I’m not about to let us get arrested for public indecency.” You chuckled, cupping his cheek with your hand and giving him a light kiss on the lips. He frowned childishly, eyebrows furrowing. He leaned down and rested his head in the nook of your neck, his lips barely touching your skin.

“If we went somewhere more private, would you let me make you feel good?” He said before kissing your neck lightly.

You placed your hands on the back of his head, caressing his matted, sweaty hair for a moment before mumbling out an “mhm”. Planting another quick kiss on your forehead, he stood up, grabbing the joint and lighter with one hand and outstretching the other for you to take. As he lead you back through the door of the now empty club, he held the joint in his mouth, lighting it and taking long hits, exhaling the smoke through his nose. He grabbed it with two fingers and placed it between your lips for you to take a couple hits as well. A trail of smoke lingered behind you both as he pushed the bathroom door open, locking it behind you.

“I’m so fucking high again, haha-”

He wasted no time in pressing you up against the cool, tiled wall, biting at your lips and moving his hands up and down the sides of your torso. He had his body pressed into yours, keeping you comfortably squished yet unable to move much. You could feel his boner pushing against your stomach through your clothes. He pulled away from your breathless mouth as he hurriedly pulled his tank top over his head, throwing it onto the floor. Jon was so fucking hairy. You were awestruck by his body. His chest hair, happy trail, hips poking out above his pants. You were so hypnotized you hadn’t even realized him tugging at the hem of your shirt, gesturing to get it off of you.

“I wanna see that body of yours again… please?” His bloodshot puppy dog eyes darted between your face and the small amount of your belly visible below your shirt that he was lifting. You bit your lip nervously, but raised your arms to allow him to fully remove it. Throwing your shirt off to the side like a piece of trash, his gaze hungrily shifted around your torso and chest. Large, gentle hands caressing your sides, tracing your scars.

“Goddamn, you’re a fuckin’ treat, huh pretty boy?” He leaned down and started suckling on your neck, working his way down to your collarbone. You gasped as his hand suddenly snuck it’s way past your waistband and in between your thighs, fingers rubbing between your slick entrance and against your swollen tdick.

“Shit, this things big… You’re ready for me aren’t you, Y/N?” He smirked, his forehead pressed against your chest as he stared intensely at his hand in your pants. A finger slipped inside of you, making you emit a raspy moan. The feeling of your wetness seeping around his hand caused him to whimper, beyond turned on and anticipating the feeling of finally being inside of you. Your hips humping against his hand as he inserts another finger, biting your shoulder and leaving a hardy indentation.

“Your fingers feel so fucking good, oh my god, fuck-“ your hands moved up and down his back sporadically; you ached for this kind of touch for what felt like forever.

“That’s my good boy… Are you ready for me to fuck you?” He muttered into your neck, clamping down with his teeth leaving another deep bite mark. Your eyes fluttered closed for a moment, enjoying the mixture of pleasure and mild pain. You would’ve yanked his pants down yourself in an instant if you weren’t pinned up against the wall at his discretion.

“Y-yeah, I’m ready. Fuck…”

Almost instantaneously, he pulled his pants down, letting them fall to his ankles. His cock had been dripping with precum for what seemed like the entire time, it was dribbling off of his head. The sight made your eyes pop. Eagerly, he pulled the waistband of your pants down as well, letting them fall to your feet. He reached a hand down and began jerking himself off with one hand and swirling his fingers around your tdick with the other while maintaining eye contact with you.

“I’m gonna fuck your pretty little cunt now, okay?” He shifted his hips close enough so his throbbing cock was placed directly against your entrance. You nodded your head, breathless and nervous. Pushing into you slowly, you both let out deep groans as your grips on each others bodies tightened. He fully pressed into you, borderline crushing you against the wall. Your arms wrapped around his head as he quickened his pace, unable to hold back the desire he’s been downplaying all evening.

“Fuck yes. You’re so fucking tight. You feel so fucking good around me. What a good boy, so wet for me.” Praise fell from his lips like a monologue as he pumped faster and faster. Leaving you out of breath, moaning and cursing uncontrollably. Complete putty in his hands. His lips encompassed yours as he moaned and whimpered into your mouth. The sounds of both of your deep, raspy noises of pleasure and his hips slapping wetly and lewdly against yours echoed throughout the bathroom. He pinned your hands above your head with one arm and used the other to grope your ass, pulling you into him as he submerged his cock inside of you.

“Jon, fuck, I’m gonna fucking cum.”

“Me too. Be my good boy and let’s cum together.” He whimpered out, trying to maintain a dominant tone but not being able to hold back his desperation. His hips bucked uncontrollably and with one final harsh pump, he completely buried himself inside of you. You could feel his balls pulsating against your lips as he emptied them inside of your hole. You tightened around him, gasping and moaning. Your bodies twitched as you both simultaneously came for each other. Sweat pouring off your bodies and cum already trickling down your hairy, weak thighs before he even pulled out.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking sexy, Y/N.” Jon breathlessly mumbled as he stayed twitching inside of you. Attempting to catch his breath and letting go of your wrists, he sprinkled soft kisses all over your jawline, chin and cheeks.

“No, you are. Holy shit, I’ve never cum that hard with anyone before.” You whispered out, legs shaking, barely able to stand if he wasn’t still pressing you against the wall.

“Neither have I. Goddamn.” He slowly slipped out of you while holding your hips, biting his lip and forcing back whimpers in his throat as he did. Your hips bucked and twitched. His cum seeped out, dripping onto your boxers below you. He kissed your forehead with a loud smack sound and bent down to pull up your pants for you.

“Cute. Your legs are shaking pretty hard. Need me to carry you out of here or somethin’?” He rose up with a satisfied look on his face, snapping your waistband around your hips.

“Hell no. I’m a big boy.” You snickered and crossed your arms as Jon pulled his own pants up, rising up less then an inch from your face. You kissed his nose sweetly and watched his face turn a deeper pink.

“Whatever you say. Let me get you breakfast, hm? It’s probably like, fuckin’ 7 AM now.” He reached down to grasp your hand and intertwine your fingers with his. “Then we can go back to my hotel room and clean up.”

He stared hopefully and tiredly at you, lightly squeezing your hand.

“Deal. We’re like, so fucking gross right now.”

He laughed and nodded his head, swinging your arms back and forth. You made your way out of the club and realized the sun had rose, which only made you feel more exhausted. His thumb caressed yours as you both began your trot to the motel a few blocks down the road.

“I like you a lot, Y/N.” He quietly muttered, looking down at your feet as you walked next to each other.

“You goddamn better considering your cum is in my boxers right now.” You playfully shot back, earning a hardy laugh from him.

“I’m playin’. I like you a lot too.”

You stopped in your tracks for a moment to embrace each other. A gentle but passionate kiss solidified your mutual feelings as you continued on your way, sauntering down the sidewalk.

#jonathan davis x reader #jonathan davis fic #korn fic #jonathan davis x ftm reader #jonathan davis x transmasc reader #bawltongue writes #fic

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tswaney17 · 2 years ago

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I Do Bad Things with You - Part 35

The happiest of happy birthdays goes out to my mate, @nikethestatue!! 🎉 I'm so grateful to have gotten to know you and to consider you a friend. You're such an amazing, kind, incredible person and I adore you so much. Thank you for being such a special person in my life, someone I can always count on to have my back. I hope you enjoy an IDBTWY update for your birthday, my love. All my love. 💙💚💜

This is a long update, so grab yourself a drink and a snack.

My fanfic account: @tswaney17fics

My ao3 account: tswaney17

Please let me know what you think about this update. I love getting your feedback. Constructive criticism is always welcome. 💕

Catch up here.

Credit to @featherymalignancy for Cassian’s nickname, Cash. 😘

Trigger warnings: violence, sexual assault , language, NSFW

Word Count: 15,277

Since Elain and Azriel broke the damn on their physical relationship a few nights ago, they had been going non-stop. If Elain was the first one home, she practically pounced on him the moment he was through the elevator doors. That first night, he stripped her of her clothes and fingered her on the small foyer table until she was sobbing with pleasure. Only after he thoroughly ravaged her there did he finally carry her to the couch where he fucked her until her legs shook and her voice cracked from her screams.

Azriel proudly wore the scratches on his back left by her nails like they were war wounds. If he was home before her, he’d wait till she at least set her stuff down before swooping to throw her over his shoulder like some sort of caveman and carrying her to wherever he wanted.

The mark he had left on her neck—though covered by makeup—wasn’t enough for Viviane’s hawk eyes not to notice. She had dragged an unwilling Elain into a janitor’s closet and practically begged for details. Not giving her anything but a promiscuous smile, Elain left her in the closet and received a few curious glances as to why the two were in there, to begin with.

They were in a frenzy. Trying to make up the last couple of months, or more like the last ten years’ worth, of being together into a short period. It didn’t help that Azriel had a business trip coming up at the end of the week and would be gone for a few days. It would be the first time they would be apart since they had gotten back together and if Elain were being honest with herself, she was dreading it.

She didn’t want him to leave. Was slightly worried about it, though she knew she had no reason to be. It was silly to feel like this she had told herself. He was only going to be gone for four days. Elain could make do without him for four measly days, right?

It sounded so pathetic to herself that she hadn’t mentioned it to him yet, the uneasy feeling of being without him. It was nerves and the idea of missing him. That was it.

She had just come off a four-hour surgery when she felt pain in her lower stomach. Grabbing her belly, Elan made a beeline for the employee locker room.

Shit, shit, shit!

It couldn’t be that time of the month already. Not when they had a few more days before Az left. Even on the shot, Elain’s sporadic menstrual cycle typically caught her unawares, sometimes bleeding for days while other times she didn’t at all. Throwing open her locker, Elain reached into the box of menstrual supplies and pulled out the last product. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Her stomach cramped as a wave of pain radiated over her lower abdomen. Gripping the metal of her locker, she breathed through the hurt until it subsided enough and she could go use the restroom.

Thank god she had caught it between surgeries this time. There had been a few times when her period had hit in the middle and she either had to temporarily excuse herself from the procedure to get what she needed or let herself bleed onto her underwear. She really needed to track her cycles better, but her work schedule and other things would always take priority. And the randomness also made it difficult to keep up with. As long as she got her shot booked accordingly, she never worried about it.

It would also explain why she had such a high sexual appetite right now—though that sounded weak even in her head. Elain knew hormones or not, she’d still be trying to jump Azriel at every opportunity. Fuck, even last night he had some work things he needed to get done, but she was so desperate for him that she had bothered him in his office.

“C’mere, El,” he motioned her forward, sliding his desk chair out to make room for her.

She slowly made her way over to him, feeling a bit out of sorts with what he wanted but trusting him. Slipping over his legs, she sank onto his lap.

Azriel wrapped a hand around the backside of her neck and hauled her in for a hot, passionate kiss. His tongue slipped between her lips, stroking hers, and licked into her mouth until she was moaning and grinding on his growing erection. He hissed, halting her movements. “No, no. I need you to tell me what you want first.”

Elain whined, dropping her forehead against his. “You,” she breathed. “I need you.”

Seemingly satisfied with her answer—though Elain had a feeling that that wasn’t something that would last forever—he kissed her again. A quick, messy, claiming sort of lip-lock. Pulling back, he ordered, “Stand up.”

She did, scrambling to her feet.

“Strip.”

Her eyes darted to the floor-to-ceiling window in his office as she hesitated. Yes, they were up high, but there were still other buildings around them at their height. And people could look up and see her.

His face softened. “All of the windows in this penthouse are one-way, Elain. I splurged and replaced them all when I moved in. I like my privacy. Nobody can see in, even if you’re pressed against the glass.”

The last bit felt like a promise for what was to come.

His words calmed the nerves that had fluttered in her stomach. Gripping the hem of her—well his—shirt, she yanked it over her head. Azriel leaned back in his seat as he watched her slip her fingers into the fabric of her underwear and shimmied them down her legs. When she leaned forward to push the thigh-high socks down, his hand shot out and encircled her wrist.

“Leave those on,” he croaked. Releasing her, he sat back, swiping his thumb over his bottom lip as he looked his fill.

Elain felt her body heat under his scrutiny, but she grew wet from his hungry gaze. Her nipples pebbled and she was close to begging him to do something when he finally kicked off his shoes and began unbuttoning the white linen he still had on. He shucked it off to join her clothes on the floor.

Those beautifully, scarred fingers unbuckled his belt. “Here’s what’s going to happen,” he started as he shoved his pants and boxer briefs down his toned thighs. His erect cock caught her attention, proud and ready for her.

She unconsciously caught herself rubbing her thighs together.

“You’re going to sit on my cock until I’m finished with my work. And if you can hold still until I’m done, then I’ll fuck you on my desk until you’re begging me to stop. Understand?”

Her breathing had gone erratic, but she nodded.

“Tell me, Elain.”

Shit. Az had been forcing her to communicate with him more when they got hot and heavy. Gestures wouldn’t be enough; not with him. He wanted vocal responses from her. “Yes, I understand.”

He motioned her forward. “Come sit.”

Elain shuffled forward, setting her hands on his shoulders and stepping over his legs. Her hair draped over them as she lined herself up over his cock and slowly sank down. She gasped, taking him one inch at a time until he was seated fully. Good lord, he wasn’t even fully undressed and she was completely impaled onto his cock. He felt so good, stretching her, bordering on painful, but was simply divine as well.

She started to rock her hips forward, needing to get the friction against her clit, but he grabbed her waist in a tight hold and stopped her movements.

He clicked his tongue. “No, stay still and then you’ll get your reward.” Az pressed a light kiss to her lips, teasing her.

Elain whimpered. “Can I hold you?” she pleaded. She couldn’t just sit there; it felt too weird to sit there on him without touching him.

Az smiled. “Yes, love. Come here.” He wrapped his arms around her, kissing her temple. Those tantalizing fingers slid up and down her back. “I’m almost done. Five minutes. I know you can do it.”

A locker door slamming pulled her from her horny reminiscing. Elain blinked, clearing the fog that had cast over her mind, and blushed. She had done it, barely, and was so soaked by the end she had dripped all over his lap and leather chair. And was thoroughly rewarded on Az’s desk and then again in their bed.

Another wave of pain washed over her lower stomach making her clutch herself. Grabbing her phone from the front of her scrubs, she tapped on Azriel’s name and put the phone to her ear.

He picked up on the second ring. “Hi, Elain. Are you all right?”

She huffed a laugh. “I’m fine, fussy hen.”

He ignored the quip though she knew he was wearing a grin. “What’s up, baby?”

“I have to run to the store on my way home tonight, so I’ll be late.”

There was some rustling on the other line and then, “What do you need? I can get out of here early and pick it up for you.”

Elain hesitated. She didn’t exactly love the idea of telling her boyfriend that her uterus was currently trying to turn itself inside out because he hadn’t impregnated her and it was pissed because it wanted to play host.

“Your cycle started,” he stated like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

She spluttered. “What? Why—how do you even know that?”

He chuckled into the receiver. “I clocked your last one on my calendar to keep track of them.”

“You what? Why?” Her face heated even though he couldn’t see her.

“Well, for one, to make sure I keep supplies for you at our place on hand when you needed them.”

Well, that was incredibly sweet. Goddammit, now she was trying not to cry. “How did I end up with the most caring boyfriend in the entire world?” she questioned, feeling a bit choked up. “But you really don’t need to pick up supplies for me.”

He sighed. “You deserve to be taken care of, Elain. And what kind of a shitty boyfriend would I be if I can’t go to the store to get you supplies for your period? Tell me what you prefer to use and I will get it.”

She didn’t want to get into the fact that Grayson had never offered to go to the store for her. In fact, he tended to keep a ten-foot radius around her whenever Mother Nature called like she had some sort of infectious disease.

Gods, why was she ever with him?

“I’ll text you a picture.”

“Can I get you anything else? Are you craving something? Chocolate? Some sort of comfort food?”

Elain’s phone pinged and she glanced down to see an incoming patient alert. “No, I’m good. Thanks, though. I have to go. I have a patient on the way in. I’ll send the picture now. Thank you, Azriel. I appreciate it.”

She could hear his smile through the phone. “Anytime, El. Love you, baby.”

The words made her heart flutter in her chest, as ridiculous as it was. “Love you too.” Elain tapped her phone to end the call, and then snapped a photo of the box in her locker and sent him the image with a heart emoji. She shut her locker and was making her way back to the emergency area when her watch dinged with an incoming message.

Azriel’s name popped up with a single heart response back.

Fuck, she loved that man.

~~~~~

There was a reason Azriel avoided the grocery store at peak times. Why he got up at the crack of dawn once a month to shop at seven in the morning. To avoid being approached by random strangers. He had made that mistake only a few times before realizing he was too wealthy and well-known to shop during the day—and frankly too attractive too.

On more than one occasion, he was stopped by some dude who thought he had the next great idea in security and he’d spend the following ten minutes listening to some bullshit spew he really didn’t care about.

Hence why he preferred to shop at seven in the morning. Nobody shopped at seven in the morning. And even less on the weekends.

However, Azriel would face the crowds, the stares, the dreaded conversations, and everything else if it was for Elain.

He was strolling through the store, a handbasket tucked into the crook of his elbow. Inside, he already had two boxes of Elain’s preferred menstrual supplies—one for work and the other to stock up the penthouse—a bouquet of peonies, her favorite flower. He made sure to call ahead and have a large order put together for him to pick up. Two pints of coffee flavor ice cream, and was now in the candy section searching for her favorite chocolate truffles.

Why they didn’t alphabetize the candy like the spice section was beyond him, but he’d search until he could find what he was looking for. Azriel was so focused on his quest for truffles that he hadn’t realized someone approached him until they spoke.

“Beautiful flowers.”

He started slightly—though, to anyone other than Elain, they wouldn’t have noticed—and found a coppery-brunette-haired woman looking up at him. She was young, maybe fresh out of college. Twenty-two if he had to take a guess. Tall for a female, pushing five foot ten, and without heels on. She had little to no curves on her body like she hadn’t quite grown out of her child’s form into her adult body, though he wasn’t looking at her in that regard. With her pin-straight hair tied back using a ribbon and a coltish figure, Azriel would file her under a girl, rather than a woman.

Inexperienced. That was the word he was looking for.

He realized she was still waiting for a response from him. “Thank you.” There, short, sweet, and hopefully the end of the conversation. He refocused his attention on the chocolate, praying she would leave, and groaned internally when she didn’t.

“You don’t strike me as a chocolate connoisseur.”

“I’m not.”

She dipped her head to look into the basket he was carrying.

For god’s sake. Did this child not respect boundaries? Azriel took a step away.

“Coffee ice cream too? My favorite.” She flashed him a flirty smile and held out a hand. “I’m Gw—”

“I didn’t ask,” he countered, expressionless. Good fucking lord, read a mood.

Her face soured, but his piss-poor attitude didn’t deter her. “Well, if you’re looking for good candy, these fruit ones,” she grabbed a package off the shelf and set them in the basket hanging on his arm, “are the best.”

He looked down at the unwanted item in his carrier, then glanced back at the audacity of this girl and he had had enough. Plucking the fruit monstrosities out of his collection of groceries, Azriel set them back on the shelf.

Twisting to face her completely, he snapped, “Since you don’t seem to take social cues well, let me put this bluntly. At what point do you realize what I’m carrying in this basket is not for myself but for my girlfriend?” He wasn’t fazed by the slight reddening of her cheeks. “I am much too mature for you, and frankly, too man as well.” Azriel caught sight of the red bag of truffles behind her shoulder. Reaching out, he snagged it off the shelf and dropped it into his basket. “Excuse me,” he said non-too-politely and stepped around her.

Gods he just wanted to get home, pull Elain into his arms and stay there for the rest of the night. Quickly grabbing the remaining groceries he needed for dinner, Az made his way to the check stand, picking the one with the shortest line.

The older clerk gave him a sweet look. “Wife?” she asked.

His mouth ticked up in the corner. Not yet, he almost said, but went with, “Girlfriend,” instead.

“You’re a keeper.”

He half chuckled, tapping his black card to the point-of-sale terminal. Grabbing the bag of groceries and his receipt, he thanked the clerk and slipped his Ray-Bans back onto his face as he made his way back to his car.

~~~

Elain’s surgery had run late, but she shot him a text to give him a heads up so he could time dinner. The spaghetti sauce was simmering on the stove and the noodles were nearly finished cooking. Az smiled to himself at the meal, reminiscing about their first date.

The elevator doors pinged open and he twisted to see Elain stepping out, setting her bags on the foyer table. Immediately her eyes went to the bouquet of peonies sitting on the counter and he watched as her entire face brightened.

“What are these for?” she asked, sniffing the floral arrangement.

He came around the counter to pull her into his arms. “They’re for you.”

“You got me flowers?” she said like it was the most precious thing in the world. “I can’t tell you the last time somebody got me flowers…” There was an edge to her voice that told him she wasn’t done with her thoughts. “I think when Feyre and Nesta, and your brothers gave me flowers when I graduated from medical school was the last time I received any.”

His thumbs brushed over the skin of her arms as he considered her words. She would’ve been dating Grayson at that point. No, they may have even been engaged or nearly close to it. And the fucker didn’t even get her flowers at her graduation. Son of a bitch, he really fucking hated that man. But he didn’t say that instead leaning his head down to kiss her cheek. And made a mental note to make bringing her flowers a regular occurrence. “Do you like them?”

She reached out brushing a silky petal between her finger and thumb. “They’re gorgeous, Az. I love them.” Elain twisted in his arms to face him. “You remembered my favorite flower?”

“Of course, I remember. I also picked up your favorite chocolate truffles and two pints of coffee ice cream. And I restocked your supplies under the sink in our bathroom; the brown bag on the foyer table has a box for your locker to take with you tomorrow.”

Elain blinked at him, too many emotions for him to read danced across her face. And then she buried hers into his chest, wrapping herself around him to hold him close. “Thank you,” she murmured into his shirt, nuzzling her nose further into his embrace.

The softness with which she spoke told him that she was trying to keep her emotions in check. He threaded his scarred hand through her hair to cradle the back of her head.

She pulled back and looked at him, determination set in her brow. “I want to thank you.”

His lips pulled up. “I think you just did, love.”

Elain shook her head, stepping around him and into the kitchen to turn off the stove. Az watched her from where he stood. “Spaghetti?” she said, though it sounded like a question.

He chuckled lightly. “Surprise.”

She came back around the counter, her steps light—almost intimidated. But she reached out a hand for him and he gladly took it, letting her tug him to the couch and gently push him into a sitting position.

Oh.

When Elain said ‘thank him,’ she meant thank him. Az allowed her to push him back into the couch cushions as she straddled him and brought their mouths together. Her tongue licked at the seam of his lips, asking him for entry, to which, he granted her full access.

Elain slid her hands to his hair, using the grip she had on him as leverage to rock herself on him.

His hands went to her waist, helping to guide her movements in a way that had his cock hardening quickly.

She kissed down his jaw, the strong column of his throat, and began sucking on the junction of his shoulder.

“Fuck, Elain,” he groaned, gripping her around the hips.

The little minx licked up his neck—back to his mouth. She dropped a filthy kiss on his lips before she slipped off his lap and settled between his legs.

“El, baby. You know you don’t have to do this, right?” He needed her to know this, but fuck, did she look so damn sexy kneeling in front of him.

She reached forward, sliding her palms over his muscled thighs until she reached his belt. “I know I don’t,” she started, looking up at his face. “I want to.” Elain looked up at him with such a trusting face, fingers tracing his waistband, that he couldn’t stop himself from grabbing her under her jaw and kissing her again. She hummed against him.

Pulling back, she deftly undid his belt buckle then popped open the button of his dress pants and tugged down the zipper. Her eyes flicked up to his as she gripped the hem of his pants and boxers and slid them down his legs—Az lifted his hips to help her—until his incredibly hard erection sprang free.

Elain wrapped a small hand around his cock, the tiny thing not even closing completely around his shaft. Her grip was firm as she dipped her head and licked a broad stripe from the base up to the tip.

Azriel’s head fell back against the couch cushions as he let out a throaty groan. He threaded his hand into golden-brown tresses, tangling them between his fingers to lift her hair out of the way.

Seemingly satisfied by his response, she licked him again and then took his head into her mouth. Elain worked him slowly, letting herself get acclimated to his size. Her tongue swirled around his shaft, flicking over the slit at the top, then back down the underneath side. Gripping his thighs to leverage herself, she raised herself on her knees and sank down until he touched the back of her throat.

“Fucking hell, El,” he moaned, savoring that warm, wet, delicious feeling. Az watched as she bobbed up and down his length, taking him as far into her mouth and throat as she could. She used her hand to cover the rest, twisting and stroking him until he had stars dancing in his vision.

Azriel was typically good at predicting things, but anticipating Elain giving fucking amazing head was not one of them. Not because he thought she’d be bad at it, but because he assumed she was inexperienced at it. He had a feeling he knew why she was good, but he pushed that thought from his mind and focused on the pleasure he was receiving from his gorgeous girl.

He cupped her face; let his thumb brush over her hollowing cheek. “My good girl gives me such good head. You look so beautiful with my cock in your mouth, baby.”

Elain hummed, preening at the words, and fuck him if the vibrations didn’t nearly make him come. She had spit running down his dick, over the hand still pumping him, dripping off her chin onto his lap.

It was filthy and messy, and honestly the hottest thing he’d ever bare to witness.

She licked and sucked and slurped and everything in between, taking him as deep as she could allow until she started to gag, and fucking hell, he had started to go down her throat.

Az teetered on the edge of his orgasm; felt that pull in the pit of his stomach that had his balls tightening. “Elain, I’m going to come,” he warned, though it came out like a growl.

Her other hand slipped between his legs to fondle his sac—the surprise catching him off guard enough that he snapped his hips up into her mouth until she choked.

“Fuck, shit! Are you okay?” he worried and tried to pull her off him.

But Elain would not be deterred, gripping his cock harder to latch on. She continued to suck, increasing her speed on the bobbing of her head to get him to his peak.

Azriel moaned again, body bowing over hers. “Baby, if you don’t want me to come in your mouth, stop now.” He knew some girls didn’t like the sudden surprise of when a guy came while others just didn’t like cum to begin with; though, Elain had previously licked his up and didn’t seem to mind it.

He leaned back on the couch just as his wave crested. Az called out her name, cock pulsing as he shot hot seed down Elain’s throat.

His beautiful, sexy woman swallowed every single drop he gave her. The suck from her mouth was simply exquisite. He felt every drag, every pull, every delicious draw from between her plump lips as she slurped down his release.

Panting, he slouched in his seat as she pulled off his dick with an audible pop. Elain sat back on her heels and shot him a feline smirk, clean thumb wiping away the spit and cum that had dribbled onto her lips.

“Fucking hell, c’mere,” he growled, grabbing her underneath her arms and hauling her onto his lap. Az slammed their mouths together in a hot, bruising, needy kiss. It was a clash of teeth and tongues—a kiss where he tasted himself in her mouth.

Possessive.

Claiming.

Dominant.

He overwhelmed her, sliding a large hand into her thick locks to angle her head how he liked it. To control the kiss and the way her lips moved against his, how her tongue slid along his.

Elain whimpered, her body shuddering with the need to submit to him as he reined in her movements. Her soaked hand gripped his shirt at his shoulder; tethering herself to him.

When he started to lift her to lay her on the couch, she hesitated. Immediately, Azriel pulled back to look at her flushed face.

She was breathing heavily, trying to catch her breath, golden-brown eyes were blown wide with lust and desire.

“I want to repay the favor, love. You deserve to feel as good as you made me feel.”

She smiled softly at him, running her clean hand through his hair. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me,” she said, using the same words he had used countless times on her.

He frowned. “I am worried about you. I’ll always worry about you.”

Elain laughed lightly. “That, I’m sure of.” She carded her fingers through his dark locks. “But to be honest, my cramps today have made the idea of anything going inside me or orgasming in general unappealing.”

Azriel brushed his knuckles over her cheek. “Your cramps weren’t like this the last few times you had your cycle.”

“It comes and goes.” She shrugged.

Pursing his lips, an idea struck him. He tucked himself back into his pants; gripping her hand, he wiped it clean on his shirt then lifted her off his lap and resituated them until she was facing away from him, her back pressed into his front.

“What are you doing?” Elain asked.

Az ignored the question. “Relax for me.”

So, she did, reclining onto his chest and laying her head on his shoulder.

Kissing her temple, Azriel swept his hands over the curves of her body, down her hips, and then slid around to the front. His fingers danced along the waistband of her scrubs before dipping underneath the band.

“Az,” Elain moaned, body melding against his when he added more pressure with the pads of his fingertips. “What did I just tell you?”

He kissed the side of her head again. “I’m not doing that, now hush and relax.”

She grumbled at his response but did as asked, melting into his further as his deft fingers began massaging her lower stomach and pelvic area. Elain sighed in contentment, her small hands finding his and moving them to where she ached. “That feels nice.”

Azriel kissed her shoulder, smiling into her scrub top as he worked her muscles.

They sat like that on the couch for a good ten minutes until Elain stopped his ministrations and brought his hands to her mouth to kiss. “Thank you for that,” she whispered, twisting her head to join their lips together.

“Anytime love. You know that.”

She blinked up at him. “Do you think you can play for me tonight?”

He glanced at the black instrument—something he hadn’t touched really since they started their rendezvous escapades. “Of course, I can. Anything, in particular, you want me to play?”

Elain chuckled, slipping off his lap and holding out her hand to him to help him stand. “Like I have any suggestions. Surprise me.”

Az brushed a kiss on her forehead. “Go change. I’ll finish up dinner and get the table set.” He watched her make her way up the stairs before he refired up the stove to heat the spaghetti sauce. He was draining the noodles when Elain emerged from their bedroom, dressed in leggings, one of his long-sleeve shirts, and socks. “Better?” he asked her, bringing the dishes to the table.

She parked herself in her designated chair. “Much, thank you for all of this tonight. I appreciate it and you. So much, Azriel. I do.”

He came around to her side and dropped down to a knee in front of her. “Elain, you don’t have to thank me. I want to take care of you in any way that I can. I know you’re self-sufficient and I don’t want to take that away from you, but if there are little things I can do to make something easier for you, to make you feel valued and cherished, then I’m going to do them. Because you deserve to feel like that and because I love you.”

A small hand reached out to cup his cheek—brown eyes sparkling with so much affection, he could feel it in his very soul. Her thumb brushed over his stubbled skin. “I love you, too,” she breathed, leaning forward to kiss him.

Serving her dinner, Az sat down across from her and listened to her speak about her day. He played for nearly two hours on the piano while Elain sipped wine and ate chocolate truffles and coffee ice cream straight from the carton on the couch. A lovely smile spread on her face that could light up the night sky.

It may not have been how they wanted to spend the last few days until he had to leave for his business trip, but they made the most of it.

~~~

Azriel leaned down to plant kisses on Elain’s sleeping form. Along her temple, her cheek, over her shoulder, until she stirred and blinked sleepy eyes up at him. He brushed the hair from her face. “Good morning, love,” he whispered.

She yawned, rolling further onto her back. “Az,” she breathed. “Is it time already?”

He nodded. “Yeah, Nuala and Cerridwen are waiting in the garage.” Az let his thumb swipe over the apple of her cheek.

“What time is it?” Elain asked rubbing her eye with a fist. She was utterly adorable in this sleepy state.

“Three-thirty. My flight’s at four.”

She blinked at him. “Are you going to be late?”

He shot her a smirk. “The plane won’t leave without me, love. Promise,” he added with a wink. He hadn’t mentioned that the plane was his and wouldn’t leave without him on it.

Elain mumbled something that sounded like “rich man’s perk.”

Az chuckled, leaning forward, and dropped one, two, three more kisses on her plump lips. “I have to go now. No—stay in bed. I’ll see myself out,” he said when she started to get up. Tucking her back under the covers, he sat down on the edge of the bed. “Call me if you have any problems, Elain. I’ll come straight home.”

He knew she was slightly apprehensive about his trip, without her having to tell him, he knew. Az could see it in how she clung to him a bit more the last couple of days. Just the fact of not having him near after what had happened set her on edge, and well, he didn’t exactly blame her for it. He wasn’t thrilled to be leaving her either but knew she wouldn’t be able to skip work again so soon after her time off from her recovery.

“The Moonbeam twins will pick you up and take you to and from work and are on alert should you need them here. As are our siblings. You know Cash will be here at the drop of a hat.”

“I know. I’ll be fine, Az. I’m just a little anxious is all.” She brushed her thumb over the back of his palm. “Text me when you land. I’ll call you as soon as I’m able to.”

His phone buzzed in his pocket, but he ignored it, knowing it was the twins wondering where he was at. “I will. I love you, Elain.”

She smiled softly at him. “I love you, too. Have a safe flight.”

“Thanks, love.” He kissed her again, letting his tongue trace the seam of her lips before gently prying her mouth open. Sweeping in, he claimed her with his lips, teeth, and tongue.

Elain hummed against him, molding herself to his demands.

He gave himself just a few seconds longer before he pulled back and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Go back to sleep, baby.” Az grabbed the blankets and adjusted them around her shoulders. “I’ll see you when you get back.”

She rolled onto her side settling into a comfortable sleeping position.

Azriel sat there and rubbed her back for a few minutes until her breathing evened out and she fell into a deep slumber. He pecked the top of her head once more before rising from the bed and grabbing his suitcase sitting near their bedroom door.

When he stepped out of the elevator, he was confronted with two shit-eating grins from Nuala and Cerridwen. The former was dressed and ready to go with him, the latter, in a pair of sweats to drop them off. Cerridwen would stay behind and take care of affairs here and keep an eye on Elain in case something went south.

“What?” he demanded stopping in front of them.

Nuala peeled herself away from the car, a mirthful grin danced on her lips. “Did you get your last-minute randevu in finally?” she teased. “Will that hold you over for four days?”

He scowled at his assistant. “Did you, Nuala? However will your fiancée last without you here to keep her busy?”

Azriel regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth and saw the feline smirk on her face.

“Oh, we have our ways of maintaining our pleasure from a distance.”

“For Christ’s sake,” Cerridwen muttered, looking like she wanted the ground to swallow her whole. He wasn’t far behind her. “It’s too fucking early for this and not a conversation I want to be a part of. Now, if you want me to drop you off at the airstrip, then get your asses in the car or I’ll call Gavriel and tell him to leave you both here.”

Nuala stuck her tongue out at her twin as he put his suitcase in the trunk and pressed the button to close the hatch.

Climbing into the back, he pulled out his phone and opened up his emails.

His assistant snatched the device out of his hand. “Azriel, for god’s sake. It’s three thirty in the morning. Work can wait for a few hours.”

He leaned back in his seat. “We have a five-hour flight, Nuala. What do you suppose we do for it?”

“Well then, you can have it back for the flight. In the meantime, there is a very beautiful woman living in your apartment, which, in the near decade that I have known you, has never happened before. Shit, I don’t think you’ve ever had a woman in your apartment—”

“Is there a question here or are we just stating obvious facts?” he retorted, interrupting her little rant.

Cerridwen met her sister’s gaze in the rearview mirror once before returning her eyes to the road, whatever the hell that meant. “I think what my twin is trying to beat around the bush and ask is for you to tell us about her—about Elain.”

“You two know about Elain.” They both have driven her around, in the couple of weeks when she moved back into her apartment before she was kidnapped, Elain only allowed them to cart her around.

Nuala snorted. “Yeah, we know she’s a surgeon and sweet and really gets under your skin when she wants to. But we don’t know her.”

“She’s a major part of your life now. We want to get to know her better,” Cerridwen added.

Azriel rubbed his thumb under his bottom lip in contemplation. If he thought he’d be having any type of conversation with the twins this morning, this was definitely not it. “All right, I’ll bite. What do you want to know about her?”

His assistant clapped her hands together. “Okay, tell us some of her likes. What does she like to do outside of work?”

“Other than me?” he said without hesitating, then cringed inwardly.

Nuala leaned over and slapped his arm. “I’m going to tell her you said that.”

He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Please don’t. Poor taste in a joke from lack of sleep. She likes to bake and garden, though she doesn’t do much now. Actually, she hasn’t gardened in a while… I should ask her if she’d like planter boxes or something for the windowsills in the penthouse or on the balcony,” he said more to himself than to them.

“What’s her favorite flower?”

“Peonies, but she has a knack for growing roses.”

“Does she drink coffee?” Cerridwen asked from the driver’s seat.

Az chuckled. “If you mean ‘does she drink creamer with a dash of coffee,’ then yes. It’s a sugary, sweet nightmare.”

Nuala smiled. “A woman after my own heart.”

And he knew it too. Nuala loved her lattes and Frappuccinos with whip cream and all the heart-stopping sugar that made you crash four hours later. “I make her coffee every morning and I’m surprised I get it right, to be honest.”

“Aw, that’s sweet,” they said in unison, which used to freak him out, but he’d gotten acquainted with their one mind over the years.

“Is she on social media?” Cerridwen questioned.

“Yes!” Nuala popped in. “I’m scrolling through her Instagram right now.”

He reached out and grabbed her phone from her hand. “Stop that you little snoop.”

His assistant snickered. “How sad. Not a single photo of the two of you.”

Az rolled his eyes. “She rarely goes on her social accounts. And knows that I don’t have any for privacy reasons. All of our photos are on our phones.”

She held up his cell. “This phone?”

Quick as a flash, he snatched his phone from her fingers and tossed hers back onto her lap. “You’re being such a pain in the ass this morning, Nuala.”

“Blame yourself. You’re the one who wanted to leave before the butt-fuck of dawn, Azriel.”

“Don’t make me turn this car around,” Cerridwen called from the front eyeing them both. She was always the mediator when they started acting more like obnoxious siblings than colleagues. “What’s her favorite holiday?”

He shook his head, dark hair sliding across his brow. “Winter Solstice. Not just because that’s also Feyre’s birthday, but because she loves to host and have gatherings with friends and family.”

“You hate social gatherings,” Nuala deadpanned.

“I hate being forced to socialize when it’s not on my terms. But I love her and she makes it bearable.”

The twins cooed in unison again, making him roll his eyes in the dim lighting cast by the street lights they passed under.

“What’s her favorite food?”

He sighed, wishing this twenty-question game was over already but knew they were relentless when it came to their pestering. “Italian is her favorite cuisine. She’s a pasta and bread girl. But she loves anything with chicken. Chicken cordon bleu, coq au vin, roasted-herb chicken and vegetables.”

“Are you going to marry her?”

“Yes.”

The car went silent at his bomb of a confession. To be fair, he didn’t mean to drop it casually like that, but as he took in their gaping faces, Az knew he caught them off guard with this truth. “Oh, come on. You can’t honestly tell me you’re surprised by that answer,” he said, looking back and forth between them. Cerridwen had returned her eyes to the road, but he’d catch them darting to look at him in the rearview mirror.

Nuala, however, had her mouth hanging open.

“From the expressions and the silence, I suppose my assumption was wrong.” He chuckled more to himself, crossing his ankle at the knee. “She’s living with me for god’s sake. As you two have so helpfully pointed out, that has never happened before with any other woman. So, why are you so surprised that I plan to marry her?”

His assistant sat back in her seat. “It’s not that we’re surprised per se, it’s just that we’ve never seen you like this. I remember you talking about her back in Bootcamp. How much she meant to you.” Her head cocked to the side. “Before she came back into your life, I never imagined you’d actually planned on settling down.”

“To be fair, I wasn’t planning on it. But she’s my everything.” He thought back to the beautiful woman sleeping in their bed; about everything they had gone through to get to where they were now. Az sighed heavily. “I know that this life isn’t ideal to take a wife. To show a vulnerability like that…But I’ve already let somebody rip us apart once and it cost the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And she, for some reason, forgave me for it. I didn’t deserve it. God knows I still don’t, but I won’t make that same mistake twice.” And he wouldn’t. Azriel would tear the world apart if anything came between him and Elain again.

The sisters shared a look again.

“You know, I hate it when you guys have a conversation in front of me when it’s about me,” he stated, annoyed.

Cerridwen turned into the airstrip where his jet was housed, but it was Nuala who sat up straight in her seat to speak. “Azriel, we would never begrudge you for wanting to find that happiness. Frankly, I’m thrilled that you’ve found it with Elain. I’ve seen how she makes you a better person—don’t take that the wrong way. You’ve always been a good person despite what we’ve done, but she makes you act more human.”

He mulled over her words as the car came to a stop and Cerridwen turned off the engine, twisting to look back at him.

“We’re happy for you, Az. Truly happy for you. And we like Elain. She’s sweet. Treats everyone with respect. So, don’t fuck it up.”

A laugh bubbled out of him at her words. “Noted. Are we done here? Gavriel looks like he’s about to take off without Nuala or me on the plane.”

Collecting his and Nuala’s things from the trunk, Azriel carried them up the steps where the pilot stood. “Gavriel,” he said, “It’s good to see you.”

“Mr. Knight,” the golden-blond gripped his hand. “Pleasure is all mine.”

“And where’s the young buck you’ve taken under your wing?”

The older man laughed. Older was probably not the best way to describe Gavriel. Though he was technically in his late forties, he looked to be right around thirty-five. “Dorian is doing great. He’s already in the cockpit doing the final run-through before takeoff.” A conspirator’s smile turned up the corner of his lips. “So, a little birdy told me there’s a special someone in your life.”

He whipped around to the twins.

Cerridwen grimaced, looking like a kid who got caught with their hand in the metaphorical cookie jar. “Apologies, Az. I thought Elain might be coming with you when I made arrangements for the flight. I have Gavriel a heads up.”

Azriel sighed heavily, shaking his head. “You two are a menace.”

“Did I get somebody in trouble?” he cringed. “Sorry about that, Cer. I was merely curious. Though it appears she won’t be joining us?”

“Not this time. And given the life I live, I’d appreciate it if we kept this between us.”

Gavriel made a crossing motion over his chest. “Swear on my life. She’ll remain secret and safe with us.”

He clapped his pilot on the shoulder before heading into the cabin of his sleek, black jet, murmuring a “thank you” as he went.

The inside interior was black and white. Spacious. It could easily seat twelve comfortably. Four leather chairs sat around a table. Two faced each other on the other side of the walkway. Two more sat behind them across from an L-shaped couch. Azriel spared no expense when it came to the design of this plane.

Grabbing his laptop from the front of his suitcase, Az slipped it into one of the upper storage bins, then set Nuala’s up there when she arrived after saying goodbye to her sister. Sliding into a chair at the table, he fired his computer up to get some work done during the flight.

Gavriel shut the plane door, throwing them a salute before closing himself off in the cockpit.

Nuala went straight for the bar area and whipped up two coffees for them. “I think we both need these. Larger ones, but these are the only cups you have on this plane.” She set one down in front of him.

“Thank you,” he said, taking the mug and sipping.

Within a few minutes, Gavriel’s voice came on the intercom telling them to strap in as they’d been cleared for takeoff.

He looked out the window towards the glittering city—towards her.

“She’ll be fine, Az,” Nuala said quietly. “The Moonbeam twins will be with her and Cer will check in.”

“It’s still hard to leave her,” he admitted, looking back at her as the plane lurched forward. Azriel grabbed his coffee and held it in his palm, the warmth soaking into his scarred hand. “Just after what happened the last time we were apart.” And that was the truth, his guilt ate at him for what had happened to her. Leaving her now made him anxious.

Her head cocked to the side. “You can’t live with that guilt, Azriel. Elain made her choice to leave—”

“If you’re about to tell me that it was Elain’s fault, we are going to have a very big problem,” he warned.

She raised a hand to settle him. “That’s not what I’m saying at all. Elain chose to leave. You chose to let her go. And Hybern chose to do what he did. All of your choices played into what happened. But ultimately, it was Hybern’s fault. So, don’t let yourself feel guilty over it.”

Deep down, he knew she was right. It was something Elain had said to him on more than one occasion. But telling somebody not to feel guilt and them actually moving past it were two very different things. “I’ll try,” he said just to appease her.

Nuala, he knew, didn’t buy it but let it go so they could get some work done.

~~~~~

Elain had gotten Azriel’s text when his flight landed while she was in surgery. She called him almost two hours later for a brief conversation before being pulled away for a consultation.

That was almost two days ago, and she missed him dearly. She had barely slept since he left, tossing and turning all night in their large bed. Elain was thoroughly exhausted, maybe catching four hours of sleep in total last night after two torturously long days. She had two surgeries today, the first one was four hours, but the second went for nearly eight solid hours. Coming off a fourteen-hour shift, she prayed she’d get some sleep tonight, but doubted the success of her endeavors.

It was nearly eight when her phone dinged from an incoming text. She was sitting in the bath, jets on low to help with her aching legs. Lavender engulfed the bathroom as she settled into the hot water.

Drying her hands off on the towel next to the tub, Elain picked up her phone and saw the message was from Azriel.

Are you home yet?

He’d text her first to make sure she was home before calling her, being two hours behind and knowing her schedule sometimes fluctuated.

Her lips curled up as she snapped a photo of the murky water, set off by the candles she lit to help her relax rather than turning on the harsh bathroom lights and sent that as a response. She expected her phone to start ringing. What Elain didn’t expect was the distinct sound of a Facetime call.

Butterflies erupted in her stomach, not for the call itself, but because she was currently naked and she knew Azriel knew it too. Setting her phone up on the tray she placed over the tub with a book, glass of wine, and chocolate truffles, Elain accepted the call, making sure her breasts were just out of the shot.

Azriel’s beautiful face filled her screen.

“Hi,” she breathed, smiling bashfully.

“Hey, love. Do you have a headache?”

The question didn’t surprise her. Elain often got into the bathtub when one of her headaches or migraines came on, Az sometimes joining her to rub at her shoulders. “No. I pulled a fourteen-hour shift today. One surgery was eight hours alone. My legs were killing me.”

His lips turned down into a frown. “Did you eat?”

“I grabbed a granola bar for the ride home.”

“That’s not dinner, Elain,” he chastised.

She chuckled. “Relax. I’m eating now.” Reaching forward, she grabbed a truffle and slowly popped it into her mouth, then washed it down with a swallow of wine before settling against the back of the tub, water sloshing around her.

Azriel snorted, shaking his head in exasperation. He readjusted himself on his bed and she caught a glimpse of the room he was in.

Her brow furrowed. “Where are you? That doesn’t look like a hotel room.”

“It’s not. I rent an Airbnb whenever I travel. Gives me more space. Nuala is staying in the guest house.”

Elain’s eyes widened. “There’s a guest house? My god, Azriel. How much does your company spend on travel expenses?”

He laughed. “As you love to put it, an ‘atrocious’ amount.” Az tucked an arm behind his head, bicep bulging with the movement.

Fuck he really was gorgeous. “Do vacations count in your travel expenses?” she joked. “Because after the last two days, I could use one.”

His head cocked to the side. “Where would you like to go?”

Elain debated the question. There were so many places she wanted to go—having never had the opportunity to travel—but she settled on, “Someplace warm. With a beach.”

Az smiled. A curl of his lips, likely taking the information and tucking it away for future use. “I miss you,” he said instead.

“I miss you too. I miss you in our bed. It’s much too large and lonely without you there.” Elain had gotten used to having another body next to her while she slept. Actually, she and Az rarely weren’t touching in some way, shape, or form when in bed whether that was a hand reaching out and pressed against the other’s back, an arm thrown over a waist or full-on wrapped around each other. It typically was the latter, like neither of them could bear any space between them.

A feline smirk pulled at his mouth. “So, you miss my body, then. Not just me.”

She rolled her eyes. “The sarcasm leaves little to be desired,” Elain snarked making him chuckle. “No, but I do miss your presence. I sleep better with you here.”

His face sobered. “Are you not sleeping, El?”

A shrug of her shoulders. “Not really. I toss and turn a lot when I don’t feel you next to me. I was hoping that a bath would help not just my legs but relax me before bed.” Hence the glass of wine—it always made her a bit tired.

Az sat up in the bed he was lying in, exposing more of his bare chest. “You know, there are other ways to relax your body that could help you sleep.”

Her brow furrowed. “Like what?”

“A couple of orgasms should do the trick.”

Elain’s face heated. “Last time I checked, it’s a bit difficult to give me an orgasm when you are two time zones away, Az.”

The grin he shot her was purely arrogant. “Oh, baby. I don’t need to be in the room with you to give you an orgasm.”

She shifted in the water, nearly exposing one of her breasts on camera. Azriel’s eyes caught the slip, but he was kind enough not to mention it. Elain hadn’t needed to allude that she’d been feeling a bit needy, having gone seven days now without any pleasure since her cycle had come and interrupted their frenzy. She knew he could sense her need, even through a Facetime call. Elain licked her lips, swallowing. “How, exactly, would this go?”

His eyes flared with excitement. “Well, you’re going to listen to my instructions and do exactly what I tell you to do. And I’m going to guide you through your pleasure until you orgasm. Twice.”

Her breathing had gone ragged at his words. “So…I just do what you say?” She had to admit, the idea excited her a bit. Even in the water, she felt herself throb in anticipation.

He nodded. “Exactly what I say. Is this something you’d like to try?”

Did she want to try it? Hell, like she needed to question it. She already knew her answer before he asked her. Elain’s teeth sank into her bottom lip as she nodded. “Yeah, I would.”

Azriel grinned. “I would like to watch you, but don’t feel like you need to show yourself on camera if that makes you uncomfortable at all. Just know you’re on a private network and that our call is secure.”

The thought hadn’t even crossed her mind, but once again, she was grateful that Azriel was always three steps ahead in his plans and preparation. Considering his words carefully, she gripped the tray she had set across the bath and slid it back. Moving to recline against the edge of the tub exposed her breasts to him, the water hitting right underneath the soft flesh. The angle of her phone gave him a view of her entire body, though the lower half was slightly blurred in the water.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Elain,” he groaned. “I wish I was there with you right now.” Az shifted in bed to sit up better. “Can you grab some soap for me and pump a small amount into your hands? Get them nice and sudsy.”

She did as told, rubbing her hands together, and sat back waiting for further instruction from him.

“Good girl,” he smirked. “Stroke your chest. Over your collarbones, your shoulders, but keep your touches light. Delicate.”

Elain tipped her head back, eyes closing as she touched herself. Her hands glided over her soft skin, down toward where she wanted them.

“I didn’t tell you to touch your breasts yet.”

Her eyes snapped open, a low whine echoing in the back of her throat.

Hazel eyes glinted on the other side of her phone. “Patience, baby. Take the pads of your fingers and lightly drag them around the outside of your breasts, over your ribcage, then up the center over your sternum.”

Again, she followed his direction, letting the suds on her hands lather her skin.

“I want you to repeat that motion, slowly working your way inward until you’re just circling your nipples.”

Finally, she wanted to cry.

“Slower, Elain.”

She growled in frustration, but reduced the speed of her movements, inching closer and closer until she was tracing over her pebbled nipples.

“Fuck, you look so damn sexy touching your tits like that. Give them a quick pinch for me baby.”

Elain’s back arched as she cried out, rolling her nipples between her thumb and forefingers. “Az,” she moaned. “Please.”

He smiled at the phone screen. “Please what, Elain?”

“Please—I need—” she let out a frustrated breath. “I need more. Give me more.”

“Does my sweet girl need to touch herself?”

She was nodding vigorously. “Yes, please Az.”

He chuckled. “All right, my love. Keep one hand on your breast but go ahead and take the other one and drag it down the center of your stomach until you reach your lower belly.”

Elain followed his instructions perfectly, hoping—praying—she would get rewarded soon. The ache between her legs was becoming unbearable. Her hand settled over her pelvis then she opened her eyes, found his in the Facetime call, and waited.

In her time with her eyes closed, Azriel had propped his phone up down the bed giving her a full view of his body. Her eyes traveled down his strong shoulders, over the swirling tattoos that covered his chest, across his chiseled abdominals, finally reaching the very prominent bulge in his grey sweatpants.

She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Are you going to touch yourself too?” she asked, breathily.

A sinful, little grin kicked up the corner of his lips. “I was thinking about it. But right now, let’s focus on you. Is your hand spread over your lower stomach?”

“Yes.”

“Go ahead and use your middle finger to split yourself, baby. Gently slide it between your legs to circle your clit for me.” He watched her with hunger in those hazel irises as she did just that.

The moan that Elain let out pierced the stillness of the penthouse like a dagger’s blade. Her body arched, hand gripping her breast while she ground against her fingers.

“That’s it, sweet girl. Just like that. Little more pressure on your clit now,” Az encouraged, voice guttural. “Don’t stop touching your tit. Keep going.”

Her body quaked, demanding more, but Elain was a victim of the pleasure she was giving herself. To the sounds and the guiding of his voice. Trapped between the two, her cognitive brain shut off and she was utterly at the mercy of Azriel’s direction and her body responding to it.

“All right, my love. I think you’re ready for more. Take that middle finger of yours and push it inside of you.”

Thank fuck.

Even in the water, she was slick, her small finger sliding right in without resistance. It wasn’t anywhere near what Azriel’s felt like, but it’d have to do. She pumped once, whimpering. It wasn’t enough.

His chortle made her eyes snap open. “You’ve gotten so used to mine that your hands are too small, aren’t they baby?”

Elain’s eyes widened as she realized he held his cock in his hand. She somehow got even wetter in response to seeing him pleasuring himself to her.

“You can add a second finger, love.”

Eager as always, she slid her ring finger in along with her middle and began to pump in and out of her entrance. “Az,” she moaned. “Can I touch myself, please?” He hadn’t told her she could continue to stroke her clit, so rather than risk his wrath which would likely end up as some version of delayed gratification, Elain avoided it altogether.

His brows shot up into his hairline, movements pausing on his cock. “El, baby. You stopped rubbing your clit?”

“You didn’t say I could continue.” Oh no. Had she chosen wrong?

Azriel’s face softened. “I’m sorry, baby. I should’ve been more specific. You’re free to continue rubbing yourself, but I appreciate you asking me for permission first. And because you did, I want you to go ahead and finish.”

She didn’t need to be told twice, pressing the heel of her palm where she needed it most. Elain cried out as she rode her hand, chasing her high. Her body tightened, toes curling when she reached that peak.

“That’s it, love. Let go for me.”

Back arching, Elain tipped over the edge and shattered. Her fingers pumped vigorously into her quaking center, riding out her high as best as she could.

“Good girl, El. Keep going. Keep stroking,” Az encouraged her.

She fucked her hand, hips undulating against her palm as pleasure licked up her spine. Elain kept working herself until her body sagged, slouching until she was neck-deep in the water.

“Hey,” came Azriel’s sharp voice in her post-orgasmic haze. “Keep above water, Elain.”

“I am, I am,” she panted, fingers slowing to a stop.

“Don’t stop. Slow strokes, baby.”

She peeked an eye at him to see him still rubbing his hard cock in his fist, his movements unhurried, steady, and smooth.

Azriel looked like some Greek god, carved from marble splayed out and ready to be devoured. “We’re going to get one more out of you, then you can rest.”

“I don’t know if I have another in me,” she admitted, breathing heavily. Her wrist was starting to ache from the angle at which she had it between her legs.

“El, you’ve given me plenty of orgasms back-to-back before. I know you can do more than one,” Azriel chastised.

She groaned, head tipping back against the tub. “It’s not the ability, it’s just my arm is tired.

He pursed his lips. “Okay, let’s try something else. Fingers out and focus on your clit. Small, tight circles.”

Elain sighed in relief, slipping her hand out from all the way between her thighs. She was slick with release as her focus returned to that pleasure point. But for some reason, she couldn’t find a speed or tempo to build herself back up to that edge, and even with Azriel’s words and encouragement, Elain found herself getting more and more frustrated. “This isn’t working,” she finally snapped, pulling her hand off herself and slapping it down in the water.

“I didn’t tell you to stop.”

“Because it’s not working!” she cried out, clearly upset.

His head cocked to the side, assessing her. “All right, we’re going to try one other approach.”

“Just forget it Az,” she muttered, popping the drain on the tub.

He tucked himself back into his pants to focus on her. “No, we’re not going to forget it. I told you were getting two orgasms out of you, and I am a man of my word. Get out of the tub and dry off.”

They stared at each other—Elain debating whether or not to argue. But Azriel’s face had that inner beast inside her wanting to fall in line. To submit. It was a strange complex for her, to allow that side of her that wanted to be tamed, to be controlled and willed by somebody else in a way she had never previously thought she desired. But, then again, it was something that had to be coaxed out of her by somebody she thoroughly trusted and loved completely.

It was only obvious it came out with Azriel. A male who was so completely dominant, both in his life and beneath the sheets—or wherever they were going at it. The person who patiently waited months to be with her, while proactively helping her through her own shit. So, when she looked at him again through that phone screen and saw him waiting for her to comply with his command, Elain realized she didn’t want to argue. She wanted to listen to him, somehow figure out another way to pull that second, blissful orgasm from her, and get a good night’s sleep in.

“Okay,” she murmured. “Hang on while I dry off.” Heaving herself from the tub, Elain quickly dried herself off and grabbed her phone. “Now what?”

“I’m going to swap to my iPad in a second, but while I do that, I want you to go to my nightstand and pull out a black, satin bag. Don’t open it until I tell you to.”

She didn’t question why he was switching over to his iPad, but the call froze and then reconnected when he made the switch as she opened his drawer and rooted around until she located the bag in question. It wasn’t very heavy and fit in the palm of her hand. “This one?” she asked, holding up the satin fabric.

A devious grin spread on his lips. “That’s the one. Go ahead and open it for me and pull out what’s inside.”

Elain loosened the drawstrings and slipped her fingers in, gripping what felt like a small, silicone-like rubber object. Pulling the thing out into her palm, she very nearly dropped it on the bed. “Azriel, what is this?” she demanded, though she already knew what was currently sitting in her hand.

“A vibrator,” he said without a hint of hesitation.

Her eyes flashed to the phone screen, then back to the pink contraption in her palm. It was oval-shaped at the top, with a long, slender tail. In all honesty, it looked like a damn sperm. And then, the thing began to vibrate in her hands.

She yelped, dropping it on the bed, startled.

Azriel chuckled, catching her attention. “It’s a remote vibrator, my love. One that I have control over. I wanted to wait to try it when I was there, in hopes of making you feel more comfortable with it, but desperate times call for desperate measures.”

Elain hesitated. “I don’t know, Az. I’ve never used one of these before.”

His face softened. “The nice thing about this one is that you don’t have to do any of the work. Just slip it inside and let me take care of the rest. No teasing, not now. I’ll get you over the edge for your second orgasm so you can get some sleep.”

Well, that did sound pretty damn appealing. And she trusted Az, knew he probably researched this quite a bit. Glancing down at the pink toy, her fingers stroked over the smooth texture. It was small, smaller than him, and would easily fit inside her. And she’d prepped herself already for it. Elain could do this, wanted to do this. Finally, she looked up at him, and said, “Okay, how do you want me?”

He grinned. “Lie down on the bed and prop the phone up wherever you’re most comfortable.”

She took that to mean, she didn’t need to have it down there and expose herself completely on camera. Maybe one day she’d be okay with that—but not today. Elain placed her phone down on the bed, supporting it with a pillow. The angle showed off the side of her naked body when she reclined back on her portion of their bed and waited for instruction.

“Good girl. Take a deep breath for me.”

Elain did, inhaling through her nose and out from her mouth.

“I want you to take the vibrator and place it against your clit for me. Let’s make sure you’re nice and wet before I have you insert that.”

She flashed him a cheeky grin. “I’m still plenty wet from earlier, but okay.”

His chuckle slithered along her spine, sending waves of pleasure between her legs. “Aside from the point my love. I want you soaked for me, baby. So, press that onto your clit,” he repeated, making the toy pulse between her fingertips.

Slinking back into the pillows, Elain placed the vibrator between her thighs and waited. At the first pulse, her body jolted and she let out a long, sultry moan, her hand slipping and moving the toy off her clit.

The vibration stopped. “Move your hand back, El.”

Breathing deeply, she readjusted her fingers and he started the pulsing again, less intense than before but gradually increased the pace.

Her back arched as moisture gathered between her thighs, dripping down over the curve of her behind. “Az,” she whined. “Az, please.”

“Fucking hell, El. You look like a goddess right now—divine on pleasure and ecstasy. I wish I was there right now.”

She managed to peek an eyelid open at him; see his painfully erect cock back in his hand, his beautifully scarred fist slowly pumping it.

“All right my sweet girl. Go ahead and gently insert that until it’s comfortably sitting inside you.”

Azriel slowed the vibrations until they stopped so she could push the toy into her aching center. Her wetness allowed it to slip inside without resistance. She found his lust-filled eyes on her phone screen. “It’s in, I’m ready.”

Again, he started slow, letting her get adjusted to the sensation, but it still didn’t stop her hips from jerking off the bed.

He chuckled lightly—a sexy little sound that made gooseflesh erupt along her skin. “Relax for me, baby.”

So, she did. Trying to breathe in and out as Az increased the intensity of the vibrator, Elain shut her eyes and focused on the overwhelming pleasure that licked up her spine. Deep, heady moans tumbled from the back of her throat. Her body withered on their bed, fingers grasping at the sheets as he flicked vibrations using whatever control he had.

“Az, Az, Azriel,” Elain chanted. Her propped legs fell open; one of her hands gripped her breast while the other fisted the pillow by her sprawled hair.

“That’s it, baby,” he purred in a sensual voice that had her toes curling. “You’re doing so well. I know you’re close, love. Can you give me that final orgasm now? Let go for me and come, El.”

With a final flick of the control and holding it there, Elain shattered hard and fast. Back arching off the bed, screaming out nonsense, she grabbed whatever was previously in her hand—her mind was too far gone into orgasmic bliss to remember—and held on tight.

White light burst behind her closed eyelids, and then, a kaleidoscope of color. Beautiful, pleasurable color. Elain was panting like she had run a mile, and she likely would’ve stayed like that had the vibrator slowly come to a stop and Az’s groans filled the room. She twisted her head to look at him on the phone, watching him find his release into a wad of tissue.

Her thighs were a mess, her body limp and relaxed.

Azriel cleaned himself off and tucked his cock back into his sweats. “How are you feeling?”

She gave him a happy, little smile. “Sated, tired.” Elain looked down at her legs. “Feeling like I might need to take another bath to clean up because I’m a mess.”

He laughed. “I’m not going to apologize for that. But do you feel like you can get some sleep tonight?”

Elain nodded. “I do. Thank you for that. And for not giving up when I got frustrated. I’m sorry I snapped at you.” Her cheeks heated, slightly embarrassed that she had gotten to that point with him while he had remained patient with her.

“You don’t need to apologize to me, love. You were frustrated—I get that. But you do need to communicate with me before you get there. Until that moment, I hadn’t realized had badly you were getting upset, though I should have read you better—”

“No, that’s not on you, Az.”

“It’s partly on me. I pushed too hard. I knew better than to do that, and for that, I’m sorry.”

She gave him another soft smile. “I’m sorry too. How many days till you get home, again?”

He chuckled. “Too many, unfortunately. Go get cleaned up and get some sleep tonight. That will make it one day closer to me being home.”

“I love you, Az. Miss you already.”

“Love you too, Elain.”

She reached over and clicked the Facetime call off. Sighing to herself, she gently pulled the vibrator from inside her, wincing as it slipped free, and went to clean up and get ready for bed.

~~~~~

Azriel was hoping to surprise Elain. He wasn’t supposed to be home until tomorrow, late morning—but he missed her. A lot. He wanted to hold her in his arms and kiss her. And, to be fair, he couldn’t stop thinking about the other night. What they had done over video chat and how he had helped her get off.

It sent a wave of male pride washing over him to hear the sounds she made. To watch her hands do what he wished he could’ve. Then, when she got so frustrated she snapped, he pulled out that secret present he had been hiding in his back pocket for several weeks now, waiting to bring it out at the right time. To say Az was excited to explore how they could utilize that toy more was an understatement; especially given how soaked Elain had gotten from it. He could tell she liked it.

Now, he was about to walk into their place at just before ten at night, and gods, he was hoping she wanted him as much as he wanted her right now—now that her cycle had finished. The heat in his blood simmered throughout the rest of his meetings and let’s just say he’s not the least bit embarrassed about where his mind continued to wander when he was trying to finalize the deal with Tarquin.

Nuala looked less than thrilled with his lack of focus.

Thankfully, the young male took it in stride and everything went off without a hitch. Knight Securities was now officially offering the Summer System panels. Things were finally in motion.

When the elevator doors opened, however, he came up short at the darkened penthouse. That was odd. It was a bit early for Elain to be in bed. He knew she was home, had received her text when the plane landed and the car in the garage told him she was there. Stepping out, he carried his bag up to their bedroom when the scent hit him.

Peppermint.

Shit. Elain only used peppermint oil when she had a migraine or the onset of one.

Quietly, he nudged the door open with his hip and found her asleep in their bed. She was on her side, facing away from him. Her unbound hair was strewn across her pillow reflecting moonlight streaming in from the balcony window.

He set down his bag and walked over to the bed, kneeling on the floor before it. Azriel hated to wake her, but he didn’t want her to feel his presence in her sleep and wake up terrified that somebody broke in. He gently touched her shoulder, shaking it lightly. “Elain,” he whispered.

It only took a moment before her body jolted slightly and she rolled over to look up at him. “Azriel?” she murmured, her voice edged with confusion and sleep. “What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t coming home till tomorrow.”

Az smiled softly at her. “I missed you too much to wait until tomorrow to come home.” He could see how the comment filled her with unfiltered joy—even in her tired state. Leaning down, he kissed her plump lips, savoring the feeling of them on his. Fuck, he missed these lips, her mouth, her presence. He was so glad to be home, especially now so he could take care of her. Az caressed her jaw with his thumb in a long, sweeping gesture. “Migraine?” he asked, though he could tell just by looking at her face.

She nodded solemnly.

“I’m sorry, baby. Anything I can do for you?” he asked voice a bare whisper. He placed his large, warm hand on the top of her head and let his thumb stroke her forehead over her brow.

“No, I’m okay.”

Azriel knew she wasn’t, not when she took a peppermint bath and was already in bed, but he wasn’t going to argue with her. He leaned down to kiss her softly again. Once, twice, three times. “Go back to sleep. I’m going to shower off my trip before I join you in bed. We can talk in the morning.”

She nodded sleepily, likely having taken one of her prescribed medicines that made her drowsy knowing she wasn’t working tomorrow and rolled back onto her side.

He tucked the covers up to her shoulder and continued to rub the top of her head, adding pressure knowing that the massage helped soothe her until she fell back asleep. Only once he was sure she was under did he stand back up and grab his suitcase, heading to the bathroom. Azriel pulled out the box with the oil diffuser he bought for her. No better time than the present to test out its helpfulness.

Quickly reading through the instructions, he cracked the bathroom door, leaving it slightly ajar so he could see and made his way over to his dresser. He set the diffuser there, poured water into it, then grabbed Elain’s peppermint oil and let a few drops fall into the liquid. Sealing the top, he pressed the button on.

Instantly a vapor puffed from the top and he could smell the peppermint infuse in the air.

Walking over to her sleeping form, he dropped a kiss on the side of her head before heading back to the bathroom to shower.

Once clean, Azriel took his suitcase and stuck it in their closet to unpack tomorrow, then climbed into bed next to Elain.

Seeming to sense his presence in her unconscious state, she shuffled closer in her sleep, her arm going around his torso, leg slotting between his, and she rested her cheek on his bare chest. She let out a contented sigh, breathing his scent into her lungs as her face buried into the thick muscle of his pectoral.

His arms automatically went around her, fingers sliding into her hair to gently massage her scalp. He kissed her forehead as he continued to rub her head until exhaustion pulled him under.

~~~~~

Elain woke up feeling warm and safe. Her eyes blinked against the bright morning light and it took her half a second to remember that Azriel arrived home last night—even with her curled up on top of him. He was currently still asleep; she could tell by the deep, even breaths that came from him, and she knew that as soon as she stirred, he would wake. So, she took a moment just to study him.

The peaceful look on his face. The long, dark lashes that framed his gorgeous hazel eyes brushed the tops of his cheeks. Her eyes traveled the slope of his nose and over the sharp cut of his jawline—dusted with five o’clock shadow and then down the strong column of his neck.

Elain didn’t know how she got so lucky to call this gorgeous male hers again, but she would thank every god in the heavens above for the chance to love him.

Deciding to wake him up slowly, she leaned her head down to kiss the bare skin of his chest.

His face twitched slightly, but he didn’t wake.

She grinned mischievously as she dragged her mouth up further on his pec, kissing him there. Then moved to his collarbone.

A low groan escaped his throat, but Elain didn’t stop.

She buried her face into the crook of his neck, slowly sucking on the skin there.

He stirred beneath her, hand landing on her behind squeezing lightly.

Elain peeked up at him, finding his lust-filled eyes already open and watching her intently.

“Good morning to you too,” he breathed huskily, his voice still heavy with sleep.

The sound of it sent shivers wracking down her spine. “Good morning,” she murmured, crawling further up his body to kiss him soundly on his lips.

Azriel’s hand cradled the back of her head, fingers threading through her hair to hold her to him—stealing a few more precious seconds of that kiss. “Well, that’s one way to be woken up.”

Her eyes danced with mirth and amusement. “Next time I’ll move southward.”

His brows shot to his hairline, but a wicked smirk played on his lips. “You’re extra feisty this morning. How’s your head?” he asked, fingers in her hair lightly massaging her scalp.

“Better, surprisingly.” She blinked down at him. “Does it smell like peppermint in here?”

He chuckled, bringing her lips down for another soft kiss. “It does. I bought you an oil diffuser and plugged it in last night after you fell asleep. There’s some peppermint oil in it right now.”

Honey-brown eyes widened and she looked over her shoulder, finding the diffuser made of sea glass on his dresser. It was beautiful and reminded her of the jewelry she saw at a street vendor during their first date. “You bought that for me?”

“Yeah, I was looking for something to get you and asked about it. The shop owner said it could be used for migraine and headache relief.”

Elain’s heart fluttered in her chest. This man not only picked something that she could utilize and would be incredibly helpful for her, but also remembered something she didn’t even voice, but just showed interest in months ago. “That was so thoughtful.” She murmured, blinking back tears. “I appreciate you wanting to give me something from your travels, but you know you don’t have to do that, right?”

Azriel let his hand slide down to her jaw, his thumb caressing her cheek. “I know I don’t have to, but I wanted to.”

“You truly know my heart, inside and out. That diffuser will be invaluable.” She leaned forward to kiss him chastely on the lips. “Thank you, Azriel. I mean it.”

He dropped one of his devastating smiles, the one he reserved only for her. “I love you, El.”

Elain ducked her head, blushing. She buried her face into the crook of his neck, inhaling his warm scent. “I love you, too, Az,” she whispered, placing a featherlight kiss over his strong pulse. His hum of contentment made her belly turn molten, and lit a desire in her blood. “I missed you.”

His thick arms wrapped around her, tugging her closer to his body. Pressing all of her soft curves to his cut form. Those beautifully scarred hands ran up her back, sending shivers in their wake. “I missed you too, my love. Why do you think I came home early?”

She smiled into his skin. “I’m sorry I wasn’t up to welcoming you home properly.”

At that, he gripped her chin to meet his eyes. “Don’t ever apologize for having a migraine,” he said earnestly, then spread his fingers across her cheek. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do more to help you.”

Elain kissed his palm. “You did plenty. Though, I was planning on surprising you at the airport.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up, fingers rubbing slow circles over the skin of her back. “Were you going to run up to me, leaping into my arms like in those cheesy rom-com movies you love so much?”

She grinned, her teeth a slash of white against her pink lips. “You know it. My legs wrapped around your waist, kissing you all over for everyone to see. The perfect description of a cheeseball.”

He chuckled, leaning forward to kiss her again, putting enough hunger behind it to make her sigh into his mouth. Azriel took advantage, sweeping his tongue between her lips to claim her, licking deep—dominating. “We’ll have to just look forward to that at a later date,” he said into her mouth.

Sliding onto his lap, she made herself comfortable. “How about we skip right to the welcoming home, now?” She left a path of searing kisses over his jaw, down his throat, and across his chest—leaving no bit of skin untouched. Elain tossed her hair over the side of her head and looked up at him through her long, dark lashes as she made her way down his bare chest to the hard planes of his abdominals.

“Fuck, you have no idea how unbelievably sexy you look right now,” he groaned, handing fisting in her hair. He seemed to love grabbing at her long, luxurious locks whenever she let herself loose on his body.

She hummed against his stomach, letting her teeth scrape against the ridges of his well-defined abs. Her hands shimmied down to his hips, thumbs brushing over the beginning cut of his Adonis belt. Elain would be lying if she said that Azriel’s body was nothing short of utter perfection. He kept a rigorous workout routine and her mouth seemed to go dry at the sight of his naked torso every single time she saw it. She thought it’d be something she’d get used to, but boy, was she so wrong about that.

Elain attached her mouth to his skin and sucked a mark around his navel, relishing in the way it made him squirm. How his stomach contracted and flexed under her lips and teeth and tongue.

Without warning, Azriel hooked a leg over hers and flipped them, pinning her to the bed, making her yelp in surprise. He began a torturously slow line of kisses from the base of her ear, down her jaw and neck, to the hallow of her throat.

Her hands wove themselves into his dark strands of midnight hair, mussing them up more than his sleep did. “I thought I was supposed to be welcoming you home?” she muttered breathlessly as his tongue licked the spot where her neck and shoulder met that had her body shivering. Gods, he knew exactly where she liked it most.

His smile branded into her skin. “You are. I’m starving.” The underlying innuendo made her toes curl.

“You’re so filthy,” she giggled but didn’t stop his assault. Letting him tug her—no, his—shirt up her body until he could pull it off and discard it somewhere behind him.

Azriel’s kisses singed her skin, placing them like stepping stones down her stomach and around her navel. He sucked an identical mark onto her belly to match the one she placed on him, a matching tattoo if you will. And then proceeded to continue with his path of kisses. Lower.

His nose brushed her inner thigh, inhaling her sweet scent. “Only for you,” he breathed, kissing the tender flesh of her leg.

She was soaked and aching for him, something he would be able to tell by looking at the wet spot that was visible on her purple-colored underwear. Her fingers tugged on his hair, pulling him closer to where she desperately needed him. “Azriel.”

“Should I get the toy and see how long you last before I have you begging me?” he asked a smirk dancing in his hazel beauties.

Elain’s breath was stolen from her lungs. No, she didn’t want that. She didn’t want that at all. “No.”

His eyes shot to hers, all humor gone. That delectable mouth hovered over her covered sex, waiting for her to tell him what she wanted, what she needed from him.

“No toy,” she panted. “Not now. I just want you, Az. I’ve missed you too much to play games this morning. Please, please.”

“All right, love. Let me take care of you like you took care of me.” He pressed a kiss to her soaked undergarments, then gripped them by the hem and slipped them over her hips, down her thighs, and off her feet, tossing them unceremoniously behind him to the floor. Azriel rolled over to take his boxers off and shuffled back up the bed.

Elain’s sense of disappointment over not getting head was short-lived as he tugged her on his lap and slid his hands under her thighs. In a move that demonstrated his show of upper body strength, Azriel lifted her into the air and set her down directly over his face.

Another sharp yelp escaped her as she moved to catch herself on their headboard, then proceeded to look down at the smug male looking particularly snug between her lush thighs.

Holy fuck.

It was just like her erotic dream.

How the fuck did he know?

Those large hands kneaded her backside. “Have you ever done this before?” he asked like he didn’t already know the answer.

But her hesitation made his eyebrow raise.

“I can’t imagine him,” he said the word like a foul curse, “doing this because it gives you control and is about your pleasure, so now you’ve piqued my interest.” His thumb made a slow, sensual movement over her entrance spreading her wetness gathering there and sending bolts of pleasure all over her body.

“Um,” fuck it was hard to concentrate when he touched her like that. “No, not exactly.”

He moved the thumb forward to lightly brush over her clit, chuckling at either her response or the way her body bowed from his teasing fingers. “Not exactly? What does that mean?”

Shit, why couldn’t he just let it go? She looked down at those hazel eyes, blown wide with lust, and knew he wouldn’t. So, she might as well just get it over with. “I, uh. I dreamt about it once. With us.” Her face scorched in embarrassment.

His fingers stopped moving as he looked up at her intently. “You had a dream about sitting on my face?”

Could her cheeks get any redder? Elain was barely able to nod.

“Baby, why didn’t you say anything to me? I could’ve made this fantasy come true a while ago. This is something you want to do, right?” His thumbs went to stroking the inside of her thighs, not to tease but in soothing gestures.

“I was embarrassed,” she admitted, ducking her head.

He frowned. “You don’t need to be embarrassed about sharing your fantasies with me, Elain. I want to know about the things that interest you or that you want to try.” Az twisted his head to kiss the side of her knee.

“It was before we had gotten back together.”

Realization dawned on him. “The day you came home frustrated. That’s what made you frustrated?”

She shook her head yes.

A smirk grew on his lips. “Did you at least enjoy it in your dream?”

“For a while…I didn’t finish.”

A twinge of something she couldn’t place flashed in his eyes. “Well, that doesn’t happen here in reality. Because here, you always finish. Multiple times. So, my darling love. Grab the headboard, and let’s get started.”

They went four, maybe five rounds that morning before they dragged themselves from their bedroom for breakfast. And then proceeded to continue with their randevu in the kitchen, dining, and living areas. A sexcapade is what Azriel had called it.

Elain couldn’t think of a better way to spend her day off to welcome Az home after his business trip.

~~~~~~

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