#and I totally forgot how I did simon's top for a while so please ignore that brief inconsistency yes? :v

[mewkwota]

(And so Luigi dies in Dracula's Castle for the 3rd time.)

In the spirit (haha) of my recent reminiscing of the Belmonts' Smash Reveal, I finally got my mental bum off to make this comic I've been wanting to scribble. Why is this so important? It's important to me.

[flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash]

Irresistible Danger - Part 57

Synopsis:  After being caught outside the compound on your own, Negan decides to punish you in the best way possible ;)

Words: 3,388

Warnings: nsfw, smut, swearing

ID Masterlist can be found HERE

Masterlist of all my fics can be found HERE 

Author’s Note: We’re interrupting the emotions and angst for a healthy dose of smut in this one. 

A Wonderfully Well-F*cked Morning

You drifted to consciousness on a wave of pleasure, the sensations happening below your waist causing you to automatically arch your back and reach down. When your fingers came in contact with thick, soft hair at the same time that a wet tongue hit your clit, your brain finally decided to come online. Eyes opening in surprise, you looked down and found the breathtaking visual of Negan’s gorgeous face buried between your thighs.

Holy shit, what a way to start the day. 

Glancing up, his mouth curled in a soul-stealing grin at the sight of you awake and watching. His “mornin’ doll” was spoken directly to your soaked cunt, the rumbled vibration of the words making you give a small moan and open your thighs wider, so he could do as he wished.

And, apparently, what he wished was to drive you absolutely mad with desire. The distant and withdrawn Negan of last night was gone, and in his place was the playful and passionate man before you. He teased with soft kisses along the crease at the top of your thigh and lazy laps of his tongue that just barely grazed where you needed them. When you tried to lift your hips in search of more friction, his large hands pinned them to the mattress. 

It wasn’t long before you had a deathgrip on his hair, thighs trembling, and even the muscles in your stomach starting to quiver. And yet still he continued, the devilish gleam in his eyes when he glanced up at you while gently sucking your clit almost enough to send you over the edge, until he backed off and went back to nipping at your inner thighs instead. 

You were just about to beg, plead, and promise whatever he wanted, including your soul, when a muffled knocking sound broke through the top layer of hazy desire shrouding you. Negan ignored the noise, continuing with his delicious torture so that you almost instantly forgot the sound had ever happened. But then it came again a few seconds later, this time loud and sharp...and right outside the bedroom door. 

Letting go of his hair and jolting up onto your elbows, you looked down at Negan with wide eyes. He had finally lifted his head from your pussy, the sight of his lips glistening with your wetness causing a soft moan to escape that you prayed whoever was at the door didn’t hear. 

“Fucking leave!” he yelled in that no-nonsense tone that both terrified and yet also made an extra trickle of wetness run down your thigh. 

The voice that responded was muffled through the door, but still unmistakably Simon. “Sorry, boss, but there’s a situation that needs your urgent attention in meeting room C.” 

Cursing harshly, Negan dropped his forehead to your lower stomach for a few seconds before lifting his head and yelling back, “I’ll fucking be there in 5!”

You stared in the direction of the office and listened for a few seconds until the unmistakable sound of Simon banging the door closed sounded (perhaps a bit louder than needed, as if he was letting you know that he was gone). You turned back to Negan, who now had a devious smirk on his face as he looked up at you.

Giving a doubtful expression, you said, “Only five minutes?” 

“Oh, doll,” he chuckled, head ducking down so the rest was muffled against your wet flesh. “That’s plenty of time.”

It was then that you realized just how much he had been toying with you before, as his demeanor instantly changed from playful to intense, and he set to work on your cunt. He knew just where to nip and lick, and when he latched onto your clit and sucked with the perfect amount of pressure, you shot off like a rocket, coming in less than a minute from when Simon had left. 

Still panting and sprawled across the mattress, you watched dazedly as he got up and went to his armoire for clothes to get dressed. He winced when tucking his erection into the boxer briefs and dark grey pants, and the bulge made your mouth water.

“What about you?” you asked with a nod in his cock’s direction. 

Pulling on his boots, he then straightened and trailed desire-bright eyes over your sated form spread out on his bed. “I thought I already made that clear, doll,” he quipped.

Unsure if it was the post-orgasm haze making you so dense or if he was purposely being vague, you asked, “What’s that?”

Walking around the side of the bed fully dressed, while you lay totally naked with thighs still spread and naked chest heaving, he ran a warm, calloused hand down over your throat and the tips of your breasts before answering. 

“That this relationship is about more than me getting my fucking rocks off.”

His hand moved lower, between your thighs, and he watched as if mesmerized at how you shuddered and arched into the feel of his touch on your still-sensitive flesh. “However, that being said-” he backed up a step and pointed at you with a stern look on his face, “-don’t fucking move from that bed until I get back.” 

He then tucked his tongue into his cheek, gave a playful wink, and was gone. Staring up at the ceiling, you figured this was one order you’d gladly follow, seeing as how your muscles wouldn’t be able to function properly enough to help you stand, anyways. It wasn’t until a couple minutes after he was gone that you sat straight up on the bed at the remembrance of his earlier words. 

He had called it a relationship!

~  ~  ~  ~  ~

Forty-five minutes later and you, unsurprisingly, were in fact not able to follow his order, after all. Which shouldn’t be a surprise because, well, it was you we were talking about here, and when did you ever listen? 

You had tried though, really you had. After Negan left, and your breathing and heart rate had returned to normal, you sat up against the headboard to wait. Your eyes landed on a book that was open facedown on his bedside table, and the parallel to your own reading habits made you smile. Picking it up, you saw that it was some sort of psychological thriller. Making a note of what page it had been opened to, you huddled down into the plush mattress, the soft black headboard at your back, and started reading from the beginning. 

However, when the black and grey wall clock near the door ticked by almost an hour that he had been gone, you put the book down and sighed in annoyance. Whatever the emergency meeting had been about, it looked as though it might take a while, and you didn’t enjoy the thought of sitting here all morning and afternoon waiting, as if at his beck and call. Your brain also unhelpfully threw out the reminder of your previous plan not to have sex with Negan until a serious conversation was had about that damned padlocked box of unanswered questions. The subconscious, exasperated with the brain pulling this bullshit so early in the morning, yelled at it to please shut the hell up. 

Fuck it, you can at least freshen up a bit before he gets back, you thought while tossing off the sheet and standing from the bed. Stretching pleasantly sore muscles, you wandered over to the large armoire and tugged open one of the drawers. Smiling at how neatly the clothes inside were folded, you selected a moss green shirt and pulled it over your head. It was much baggier than his usual style, and you had never seen him wear it before, making you wonder if he ever got a chance to take off his leader armor and just sit around relaxing the day away in baggy sweats with a good book. Probably not, seeing as how he couldn’t even enjoy a perfectly delightful you-flavored breakfast without being interrupted. 

Heading into the bathroom to relieve your bladder and then wash your hands and face, you looked in the large mirror. Finger-combing hair that had seen better days, you then opened up some of the drawers under the sink that you hadn’t checked yet, mostly out of nosey curiosity. Finding one at the bottom that was stocked full of extra bars of soap, toothpaste, and still-packaged toothbrushes, you let out a tiny whoop of joy. Jackpot!

Opening a green and white toothbrush, you grabbed the already opened toothpaste that was on the countertop and squeezed a dollop onto the brush. Giving a sigh of happiness at the clean, minty taste, you weren’t even worried about Negan being upset you had stolen one of his unopened brushes. Especially since you’d have fresh breath when he crawled back in the bed with you and-

That fantasy died a quick death when the reflection of the man himself stepped into view while you were mid-brush. Locking eyes with him in the mirror, you saw a flicker of something in his expression as he took you in, standing there in his shirt and brushing your teeth with his personal supplies. 

“I thought I told you to be in the fucking bed when I got back,” he said, but his voice didn’t have the extra little growl that signified he was truly pissed. In fact, he almost sounded amused. 

Before you could even remove the toothbrush to respond, he stepped up behind you so that his front was pressed into your back. “Nevermind, doll,” he drawled while still holding your gaze in the mirror. “This’ll work too.”

You almost choked on toothpaste from gasping at the feel of his large, rough hands running up under the hem of the shirt and over your bare hips. Quickly leaning down to spit out the paste into the sink, you turned on the water and used a cupped hand to rinse out your mouth as he continued rubbing his palms along your torso and down over the outside of your thighs. When you put the toothbrush down and straightened, his mouth immediately attacked the back of your neck, sucking and nipping lightly. His hands moved further up under the shirt to cup your breasts, and his deft fingers pinched and twisted sensitive nipples at the same time that he ground his hips against your bare ass, letting you feel the ridge of his erection through the rough fabric of the pants.

You moaned softly and pressed back into him, almost overwhelmed by how quickly he had barged in and taken control of your body’s reaction. Any thoughts of self-doubt or questions of where you stood with him temporarily flew out the window in the face of the onslaught of intense and thorough possession he was directing your way. 

Unlike when you first woke up this morning, no part of him was teasing or going slow this time around. He quickly pulled the baggy shirt up over your head, and the sight of you totally bare made a groan punch from his chest. 

He whipped his own shirt and pants off in a quick flurry of movement before leaning in so that his warm chest was pressed into your back as he opened one of the drawers at your hip and pulled out a condom. 

Wasting no time, he opened it and rolled it down the swollen cock pressing into the small of your back. When he bent his knees to line up with your entrance, you assisted by hiking a knee up on the edge of the countertop, presenting yourself to him in a way that made him pause for a moment, as if in awe, before plunging inside you with a fierce thrust and strangled growl against the back of your neck. 

You looked up and were instantly transfixed by the sight in the mirror. Negan’s tattooed, leanly muscled form towered over yours, his rough edges and possessive thrusts juxtaposed against your softer curves and arching form. 

You watched his reflection as he gripped your hips and looked down between your bodies to watch himself fuck you, the sight making you moan and clench around his cock. His gaze lifted, amber eyes locking on yours in the mirror. 

One of his hands left your hip, trailing hungrily around the front of your body and up over your stomach and breasts before wrapping long fingers around the front of your throat. The grip was light, but the ruthless ownership behind both it and his pumping hips made your eyes flutter closed in ecstasy. 

He leaned in over you, breath coming in hot strikes against the side of your throat. “You like this, don’t you, pretty girl? Like being all. Fucking. Mine.”

The last words were each punctuated by a harsh thrust, making you cry out and open lust-filled eyes. His face was there beside your own, jaw clenched as he watched your reflection in the mirror with a fierce, almost pained expression. He let out a little snarl before turning his mouth to nip at the curve of your shoulder, and that combined with his grip at your throat and heavy, thick cock fucking you against the counter all combined to throw you into an orgasm without warning. He groaned as you shuddered and clenched in his hold, his gravel over sandpaper voice in your ear. 

“Yes, milk my fucking cock.”

Coming down off the wave of pleasure, you realized that his pace hadn’t slowed down, that he hadn’t finished yet. You lowered the leg propped up on the counter, needing both feet braced against the cool, tiled floor to keep your shaky body steady. 

Your gaze dropped, taking in the reflection of what was happening between your thighs. Both his cock and the inside of your thighs glistened with a coating of your release, and he felt even bigger inside of you, now that your walls were a little swollen and tender from both the friction of his cock and your recent orgasm. Right when his movements became almost too overwhelming against your oversensitized cunt, and you were about to ask for a break, he paused his thrusts and removed the hand from around your throat. 

Your thought that he was granting you a reprieve was instantly proven wrong when he gave a growled warning of, “Brace your arms on the sink,” right before his forearms hooked down under both your knees and lifted your entire lower body off the ground. Since the action pushed you forward, your body had no choice but to do as he said, forearms holding the weight of your upper body against the surface of the sink while your lower half hung suspended at the perfect height for his cock. 

He resumed his quick pace, fucking into you relentlessly. And, surprisingly, instead of becoming too much, the sensations pulled back from borderline painful and started to feel pleasurable again. Very pleasurable. 

Your whimper caused him to give a low moan in response, and his voice came through gritted teeth. “That’s it, doll. Fucking come for me again.” 

Trying to find your voice, you wanted to say that you weren’t sure if that was possible, that coming again so soon wasn’t likely. Instead, the words choked in your throat when he bent down and licked up your spine before sucking roughly on the skin of your back. He then ground his cock into you so hard that your pelvis pushed against the edge of the counter, the hard surface rubbing over your clit in exactly the right way needed to send your body spasming into a second orgasm.

You lost yourself in pleasure that had no beginning and no end, just endless heavy waves of bliss. Dimly, you heard him give a groan of completion as he gave a few sharp, hard thrusts, and then his body went still. He allowed your legs to lower to the tiled floor, and thank god for being braced on the countertop, otherwise you would’ve crumpled in a quivery heap at his feet. 

You took in the reflection of both you and Negan’s sex-dazed expressions, skin flushed and dewy with sweat despite the cool bathroom. A satisfied smile curved his lips, and you watched in the mirror as he bent down and kissed the curve where your neck met shoulder, the scratch of his beard rising goosebumps to the already sensitive flesh. He hummed happily against your skin, and you wished that the two of you could stay in this intimate bubble forever. That no outside intruders or internal thoughts could stand in the way of feeling like this with him every single day. 

As if he were thinking something similar, he ran a warm hand down over the curve of your hip and said in a sexy, husky voice, “Now that is a perfect fucking way to finish off the morning.” 

Unable to help a dreamy smile in return, you were finally able to fully stand up from the counter without fear of your legs giving out. Turning in his hold, you twined arms up around his neck and tugged him down for a proper kiss involving lips and tongues and even a hint of teeth. 

You pulled away after a few long moments, and offered, “What are your plans for today?”

Biting his lip and giving one of his signature cheeky grins, he replied, “I have to go over some new outpost security measures with Simon this afternoon. However…” his hands cupped your ass and kneaded possessively, “my evening is all fucking yours.”

Lord, but you liked the sound of that. Standing on tiptoe and placing another, softer kiss to his lips, you suggested, “How about I bring us dinner around 7:30?”

“I’ll be waiting,” he replied with one last squeeze of his hands before he stepped away to dispose of the condom and gather both your clothes off the tiles. 

The men had brought back some freshly butchered deer meat from the supply run, and Ben had been excited to try making stew with both it and vegetables from the garden. Thinking of Ben was also a reminder that you had promised to hang out with him today. You were very curious to hear details about what was going on with him and Simon, not to mention needing a friend to talk through some of your own worries regarding Negan.

Pulling the baggy green shirt back on, you preceded him into the bedroom and grabbed your jeans from where they had been discarded on the floor last night. You didn’t want to return his shirt, so tucked it into the jeans to hide the obviously ill-fitting length of it before pulling on your sneakers. Turning, you found an also fully-dressed Negan watching you. His gaze took in the outfit with an expression that was difficult to decipher, but seemed somewhere between appreciative and smug at the sight of you in his shirt. 

Struggling not to roll your eyes or make a comment about “males and their strange possessiveness”, you walked out of the bedroom with him following behind. Stopping at the closed office door, you turned and looked up at him, unable to resist the urge to reach up and run your fingers down over his bearded cheek. He bent and gave you one final kiss in return, then opened the door and watched you leave. 

You weren’t able to contain the happy grin tipping up the corners of your mouth. Not even the sudden appearance of the brain, who was dragging the padlocked box of questions, could dim your mood. The subconscious strode happily at your side, but as the brain fell more and more behind, struggling to keep up with the heavy metal box, it turned with a sigh and went back to help. 

I know. I know! We’ll have a conversation with him tonight; open up the box and air out some of those unanswered questions. But for right now, we’re going to bask in the afterglow of such a wonderfully well-fucked morning. 

The brain and subconscious didn’t argue, just huffed and puffed as they worked together to finally pick the box up off the ground. Balancing the heavy weight between them, they gave each other exasperated looks, then hurried down the hall after you.

~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~

[maevefiction]

Your Light in the Mist - Chapter 35

All the way to Kauai Pasta our phones chirped and rang incessantly, Anne being among the first to reach out. She loved my ring, thought it was the most wonderful news, and THEN I asked her if she’d be willing to be a participant in the wedding party. Her shriek was delightful, quickly followed by her asking me if I wouldn’t rather have someone closer to my own age, to which I retorted that I might have seriously injured myself due to rolling my eyes so hard at her bullshit.

Veronica called as well, and I booked her immediately to help with styling for the event. I was never the sort of girl who had a vision of THAT DRESS, so I had no idea where the hell to even begin. All I knew was that I wanted to be comfortable and not look like a Disney princess, but if I was going to avoid showing up in baggy shorts and a T-shirt, guidance from a professional was definitely in order. Norman texted his congratulations to us both, but other than that, most of the attention was directed to Tom’s device, though I chimed in with my thanks on every call because he insisted upon using speakerphone mode. Such an outpouring of support wasn’t something I was used to, and by the time we got to the restaurant I was ready to hide in the hotel room for a few hours and adjust to being someone’s fiancée.

The fettuccine alfredo was even better than I remembered, and Tom’s penchant for stealing my food even worse. After we’d finished inhaling all the goodness, Simon sauntered over to the manager and suddenly the entire establishment was singing happy birthday to me. Every time I tried to slide down the booth seat and under the table Tom grabbed me and pulled me back up, ignoring both my pleas for help and my obviously empty threats to withhold sexual favors from him if he didn’t comply.

Once we returned to the hotel, Simon nabbed the garment bag that contained my costume as well as the duffel of accessories that he’d brought from back home, and we adjourned to my and Tom’s room while Tom remained with Luke, who’d been the transporter of his contraband. I hadn’t actually SEEN my costume yet, having put my full faith in Simon when he talked me into opting for Lady Loki instead of just plain old Loki. When he unzipped the bag, I peered at its contents, looked back at Simon, back into the bag, then settled my gaze upon a pair of grey eyes alight with mischief.

“Um, Simon? WHERE IS THE REST OF THE COSTUME?”

The left side of his mouth turned up in a lopsided grin. “I don’t understand what you mean, Maude. That’s the costume. Lady Loki.”

I pulled out the pieces. All four of them. “This isn’t a costume. This is a bikini, two pillowcases strung on a belt, and a cape.”

He nodded. “Uh HUH. Lady Loki. The horns and the boots are in the duffel bag. You are going to LOVE the boots, by the way…”

“SIMON. Where is the SHIRT? Where is the SKIRT?”

“Lady Loki doesn’t wear a SHIRT. She wears a TOP. A midriff baring top. And kind of a skirt, but the sides are OPEN so you can, you know, SEE. How do you not know this? You’re fucking…oh, wait, sorry, you’re engaged to the man who plays him. Her. Whatever.”

I flopped down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, left wrist and hand resting on my forehead. “Somehow I doubt that particular look is set in stone. I’ve seen the comics, and looked at a ton of cosplay pictures. There are shirts. There are skirts. And, by the way, even though we’re engaged I’m still going to be FUCKING HIM. My god. What the hell am I going to do for a costume NOW?”

He sat down next to me, the black faux-leather top and bottoms held aloft in his hands. “You know, it’s NOT a bikini. It’s actually a push-up bra and booty shorts. And they’re LEATHER.”

An entirely new sound came out of me as I sat up, a hybrid of a terrified scream and maniacal laugh. “HA! Well, if it’s a push-up bra and booty shorts I suppose that makes everything JUST FINE then.” I touched the shorts to ascertain the exact material. “And that’s not REAL leather. So pffft on you. And my midriff has not been seen in public since…since…like, never and…”

Simon dropped the bra into his lap in order to cover my mouth with his hand. “LIES! Your bathing suit has cutouts in that area. You’ve also exposed bits of yourself on that very balcony out there, and then THE REST of what the good lord gave you as you walked across this very room. And heaven knows where ELSE you’ve stripped down for the sake of carnal pleasure. Come on, Maauuudddeee. At least try it ON.”

My head shook back and forth as I pouted. “I don’t WANNA.”

He leaned in, cheek brushing mine like a cat demanding attention. “But…but…imagine Tom’s FACE when he SEES YOU.”

I stood, snatched the pieces from his lap and charged into the bathroom, peals of his laughter echoing behind me. After stripping naked, I stared at myself in the mirror, taking careful note of the fact that I appeared to be somewhat…smaller. I hadn’t weighed myself since New York in July, and admittedly my clothes had seemed to be getting a little bit looser, but we’d been so busy it wasn’t something to which I gave more than a passing thought. While I’d spent a good amount of my time naked during our road trip, said time was typically spent pursuing matters other than gazing at my reflection, and it was only when faced with the prospect of putting on a ridiculously skimpy outfit that I finally viewed myself with a critical eye. And, realistically, after more than a month of frequently skipped meals and constant activity, I supposed I shouldn’t be surprised that I’d shed a few pounds.

First I wiggled into the booty shorts, my back to the mirror, then stared at the push-up bra. It fastened in the front, which typically spelled massive wardrobe malfunction for me, but I swallowed hard, took a deep breath, slipped it over my shoulders into place and hooked the clasp. As I exhaled, I fully expected it to pop open, but it didn’t. Nor did it pop open when I reached in to adjust the girls. The shoulder straps were easily an inch and a half wide, which perhaps distributed the load more efficiently than most others I’d tried. And my lord, push up indeed. I yelled to Simon.

“Dude, I could serve drinks off my tits. Seriously. It fits perfectly.”

“Of course it does. Boobs may not be my thing, but I’m dead on with sizes every time.”

I snorted. “You’re full of shit. You either peeked or Tom did and told you.”

He scratched at the door with his fingernails. “Whatever. Fuck you. Let me IN.”

As I turned to unlock the door I got a glimpse of myself, mainly my ass from the side.

“Sweet baby Moses, I look like a fucking Kardashian in these shorts.”

Simon flung the door open, grabbed my shoulders and spun me around to face the mirror, busily studying my rear end, shaking his head vehemently.

“Oh honey, no. No you do not. But if you want to I’m sure I can get my hands on some padding…” His eyes roamed over my body, then met mine in our reflection. “Maude. You look so beautiful, I may weep.”

I rolled my eyes. “Please.”

“No, I mean it. And not only are you lovely on the outside, you’re even more gorgeous on the INSIDE. Tom is a lucky, lucky man.”

I turned to face him. “You’re not switching teams on me, are you?”

He pinched my cheek. “Not unless you’re hiding a cock in those shorts.”

“We’re both being very non-PC right now, aren’t we?”

Roaring with laughter, he slapped my ass and ran out of the bathroom. “Being indiscriminately insensitive to all of humanity is one of my favorite things to do with you. Now come on out of there and put on your BOOTS. Then we have to call the wig and makeup person, because I need help too, and then we’ll both finish putting on…”

I interrupted him as I entered the living space. “I’m sorry, did you say wig and makeup person?”

Sighing, he patted my shoulder. “Yes. Tom borrowed someone from the Skull Island set for himself, and we get to use her too. YAY!”

Words escaped me as I wondered what the hell Tom was up to, needing an actual professional for his costume. And it was a wig AND makeup person. My god, could he…would he…I grabbed Simon by both biceps.

“You know, don’t you? You know who he’s dressing up as. You have to tell me, Simon. HAVE TO TELL ME.”

“Woman, I kept the whole proposal nonsense a secret…if you think I’m going to spill something so insignificant you are sadly mistaken.”

I leaned in so we were nose to nose, knowing staring into his eyes was my best chance of detecting a falsehood. The man had a poker face like none I’d ever seen, but I’d witnessed him being less than truthful enough times at the office to figure out his tell. “Lestat. It’s Lestat, isn’t it?” Just the slightest tick to the left. “OH MY FUCKING GOD IT IS I AM GOING TO DIE.”

He took a step backwards, crossing his arms. “Totally not Lestat, Maude.”

“Don’t you try and lie to me, old man. You have a tell, you know. Your eyes shift to the left every time. Every. Time. And they did just fucking now.”

“Um, I’d like to point out that if I’m an old man that makes you an old woman because, HELLO, same age.”

My index finger connected with his chest. “Your attempt at diverting my attention to a potentially inflammatory topic in order to disguise the fact that you’re a lying liar who lies is neither appreciated, nor will it be successful.”

He covered his face with his hands. “Oh lord help me she’s using her Smartypants Businesslady words. Make it stop.”

“Apologies, but this will continue until you opt to proffer a full, one-hundred percent factual, truthful confession…”

His hands fell from his face as he fanned out his fingers in exasperation. “FINE. You’re right. Happy now?”

“NO. Because now I’m afraid of WHICH Lestat he’s going to be. Old school? Rock god? Modern tailored suit with flair? I think I need to sit down.”

Simon shoved me down onto the bed. “Please do, you naughty spoilsport. I’m making my call.”

He wandered out onto the balcony, and I completely forgot about the fact that I’d soon be traipsing around half-naked in public on purpose as visions of Tom in all of Lestat’s various incarnations flooded my brain. Simon’s knuckles rapping on my noggin snapped me out of my trance.

“Martina’s on her way up. Look alive, woman.”

Blinking as I looked up and met his gaze, I reached out and poked his thigh. “So…who are YOU dressing as?”

“Draco Malfoy.”

“You’re joking.”

“No, I’m not joking. Luke and I are coordinating. Harry Potter universe.”

I leapt off the bed. “Luke as Harry? That is just…it’s too…adorable. I can’t wait…”

Simon shook his head. “Ah, ah, ah…not Harry.”

My head tilted to the side. “Not Harry?”

“Not Harry.”

“But…who…Ron?” He shook his head. “Dumbledore?” Another shake. “Hermione?” A snort, then a wide smirk, followed by a deadpan expression as he spilled the beans.

“Snape.”

“GET THE FUCK OUT.” Just as the words were out of my mouth someone knocked on the door. “Shit. Go get that. I’m going to hide.”

He answered, and an hour and a half later we were dressed and ready to roll. Martina had painted my nails gold and adorned me with varying shades of green eyeshadow, heavy black liner, and black lipstick. The wig was black as well, the very realistic faux hair nearly reaching my ass. Golden horns topped it off, thankfully made entirely of plastic, the headband portion set with a huge faux emerald smack in the middle. There were strips of gold sequins taped onto the edges of my bra that formed a triangle, and a matching band to go over the belt portion of the skirt. Elbow-length pieces of fabric that resembled gloves with no fingers were wrapped with gold elastic string, and then came…the boots. They were black leather, skin-tight thigh high lace-ups with a two and a half inch platform at the toe, a 4 inch chunky heel and I loved them more than I’d ever loved any other pair of boots I’d ever worn, ankles be damned. The cape turned out to be way too long…like five inches too long, so that was scrapped because that plus platform boots was a perfect recipe for disaster. One or the other, yes. Both, no fucking way.

Simon’s wig made his eyes stand out even more than his natural blond, and his gleeful expression when he exited the bathroom in his robe made me wonder if he was wearing anything underneath it, at which point I closed my eyes and thought of truffles to distract myself. Martina gathered her things, wished us luck, smirked in my direction and away she went.

I rested my right hand on Simon’s shoulder. “Gotta say, you make a damn lovely Draco. So is this like a May-December romance thing after you’ve left Hogwarts or what? Of course we’ll have to ignore the fact that Snape, you know, DIES…”

“Maude, since you’ve attempted to put a damper on my fantasy I’m going to call your fiancé because if seeing him…and I know what he looks like, Luke sent me a pic…doesn’t shut you up, nothing EVER will.”

“You realize you’ve just essentially invited me to tackle your sorry ass and snatch your phone, don’t you?” As I moved my hand to his chest and began to push, the door opened, and I spun around so quickly I almost fell over. Luke was in the doorway, his black wig in motion, tendrils of hair brushing his chin as his head turned forward. He bit his lip at the sight of Simon, and I heard Simon gasp behind me at the same time. Luke began to stride in our direction, and as he drew closer I saw an arm holding the door open, the body attached to it not yet visible. The fingernails were black, arm ensconced in what appeared to be a very finely woven black metallic netting, the outer portion of the bordered sleeve gaping open, held in place by a black metallic fabric tie between the wrist and the elbow that matched the border. When I noticed that the sleeve didn’t end at the wrist but instead formed a V-shaped hand wrap also made of the border fabric, crossing the top and slipping between the middle and ring fingers, it dawned on me which Lestat I’d be spending the evening with. Surprising myself, I began walking toward the source of my imminent doom instead of running to lock myself in the bathroom.

A bit of blonde hair dangled into the formerly empty doorway, followed by an incredibly pale face…his blue eyes resembled ice crystals, ringed with black liner, lids darkened with shadow, lashes ridiculously pronounced as the result of a heavy application of mascara. His lips were pinker than they normally were, a dusky shade, and the hair, my god, THE HAIR. It reached his shoulders, curly and so, so blonde and I saw FANGS and was just about to lose my shit when he slid fully into view and into the room, knees buckling at the sight of me, leaning on the wall for support.

I nodded. “Same, asshole. Same.”

He laughed, completely exposing the fangs, and I resumed my walk, grabbing hold of his jaw with my right hand when I reached him, tilting my head and leaning in to inspect his canine teeth.

“Are those, like, really…you know…attached?”

He nodded, chin still in my hand. “Uh huh.”

“As in, ‘I can totally bite stuff’ attached?”

His eyes widened, and I felt the warmth of his hand on my belly. “Uh huh.”

I released his jaw and turned to Luke and Simon. “So, um, how set are you on going to this party, exactly?”

Simon whipped his wand from his robes and pointed it at me. “Maude GALLAGHER. You can shag vampire boy LATER. We are GOING OUT. It is your BIRTHDAY. There’s a DJ and we’ve never really been out dancing before and that’s essentially CRIMINAL. I will curse you if I must. I swear it.”

Sighing, I turned to Tom once again, noting that the shirt material was actually rather iridescent as opposed to just black metallic. My eyes closed and my chin fell to my chest as I responded.

“Fine. Fine. Let’s go dancing. But I think we should take separate vehicles.”

Luke cleared his throat. “I hate to be an utter downer, but you’re our designated driver, Maude.”

Eyes still shut, I rested both hands on Tom’s shoulders. “Right. Designated driver. Okay. I can handle this.”

Tom’s arms wound around my waist as he whispered quietly in my ear. “I can’t. I’m on the verge of fucking you right here, right now, right in front of them.”

In reply I ran my tongue along his jaw, not expecting the makeup to be quite so…vile. My eyes flew open as I shook my head back and forth, tongue still sticking out, as if that would help even remotely. “Bleech. That is…man, that tastes HORRIBLE.” He responded by biting my neck, and as I felt the tips of the fangs sinking into my soft flesh I pushed back and away. “Thomas. No. No no no no no. Honey. No.”

As he chuckled I grabbed my phone and keys from the dresser, handed them to him since he had pockets in which to store them, then headed for the door.

“Come on, let’s do this before I change my mind. And you’d better move your asses, because if we aren’t on our way to the lobby in the next twenty seconds it’s game over. I mean it.”

****************************************

Tom had followed me down the stairs, muttering to himself the entire time, eventually jogging down to be by my side as I tried to focus so I wouldn’t fall and maim myself permanently. His right arm linked with my left, steadying me, voice even with a hint of incredulity.

“Lady Loki.”

I nodded. “That’s me. Were you surprised?”

“I fear may never recover from the shock, actually. Luke told me you were dressing as Loki. He left out the ‘lady’ bit.”

A very indelicate snort escaped me. “Lady bit. Lady bits. Heh. Wait, Luke told you?”

“Believe me, it took a considerable amount of effort to even get that much out of him.” His hand squeezed my forearm. “You knew who I was going to be, though.”

“Why would you think that?”

He grinned. “You didn’t faint when you saw me.”

“My, my…what a large ego you have there, Hiddleston.”

“Matches my…”

“Shut. It. And yes, I knew…but all I managed to ascertain from Simon was that you’d be turning up as Lestat, so I didn’t know WHICH Lestat.” I stopped in my tracks, three steps from the lobby floor, as I realized I hadn’t given him a complete once-over yet. His pants were black leather, but a matte finish, as were his boots, the toes squared off, and around his neck was a Sid Vicious-style padlock choker…not an official accessory, but damn, I loved it. “I’d ask if that was the actual Queen of the Damned costume but you’re four inches taller than Stuart Townsend and the pants aren’t short so…” His abs through the shirt were downright obscene, and the waistband of the trousers was low…so, so low…leaning in, I could see not only his entire happy trail but a sneaky peek of the top of his pubic thatch poking out as well. “Okay, I might faint now. Rock God Lestat equals too much hotness for poor old Lady Loki.”

His arm unlinked from mine and slipped around my waist, spurring the completion of our descent and walk toward the exit. “Ah, that’s better. That sort of compliment makes the thought of wearing leather pants to go out dancing in Hawaii much more palatable.”

“Caution is advised, Thomas. Can’t have you chafing anything and ruining my fun.”

We decided to take the Jeep…’decided’ meaning my stating that since I wasn’t drinking, I was driving whatever I wanted. Tom offered to take the wheel for the drive there, and as Simon bitched about how horrific it was to have to climb into the back seat of a Wrangler while wearing a robe I leaned back against the hood area of the passenger side. Tom, waiting for the clown circus to cease so he could tuck me safely inside the vehicle, looked me up and down repeatedly.

“Maude…honestly…you are so, so sexy in that get-up…a level of sexy that should likely be illegal.”

I lifted my arms above my head, feigning a stretch, watching his jaw clench as I wiggled my fingers high above. “Misdemeanor or felony?”

He growled as his head tilted to the left. “Woman. Get in the Jeep.” A slap on my ass as I climbed aboard made me shriek with delight, and another one followed immediately, harder, and I moaned softly for the sole purpose of torturing the poor man, smirking as I heard him mutter ‘bloody fucking hell’ under his breath.

Rob’s Bar and Grill was eight miles from the hotel, and on the twenty-minute drive my gaze moved from my ring, to Tom, back to my ring, then back to Tom, again and again. This beautiful man beside me, currently a living, breathing incarnation of my most favorite fictional character, wanted to spend the rest of his life with me. His life. With me. Us. Together. Which we’d both already known, but somehow, having a circle of silver with a stone in it on my finger made it REAL. We hadn’t been alone since he proposed, and my mind was scrambling to think of exactly how to convey how much everything he’d done today meant to me, but kept coming up blank. The words I wanted wouldn’t fall into place, only floating around my head, scrambling away as I reached out to grab them.

The parking lot was nearly full, but Tom found an out of the way place perfect for a Jeep near the very back. We walked in, four unrecognizable people merging into a crowd of a hundred or more of the same. I hadn’t thought about it until that moment, but tonight, no one had a clue who we were, any of us. Granted, if someone was a huge fan they’d know Tom upon close inspection, but at a glance…no way. For him, it was probably a very freeing feeling…but for me, it was license to behave badly on the dance floor. Dancing Queen was cranking on the sound system, the giant wall of televisions displaying an endless array of sporting events, and Simon immediately bolted for the bar, Luke in tow. I turned my head to meet Tom’s gaze.

“Do you require a beverage as well, or shall we just get down to it, Mr. Hiddleston?”

He took my hand and pulled me out onto the dance floor, wiggling his hips seductively as we worked our way through the crowd. “Down to it, if you please.”

My brows rose as we found our place and he faced me, then placed a hand on my lower back, pulling my hips in to meet his own. “Oh, I please. Do do that voodoo that you do, baby.”

Luke and Simon joined us midway through the next song, Calvin Harris’s Feel So Close, and we all lost ourselves in the music, dancing with abandon to Lean On, Connected, 1999 and Brick House before I needed to take a bathroom and soda break. Not dipping my costume in the bowl was a challenge, but I figured I’d continue to make it through the night unscathed since I wasn’t getting hammered, as long as I remembered LIFT came before SIT. The music was too loud for conversation, so we stood together between the bar and the DJ, admiring all the creative costumes. There were superheroes, of course, Superman, Batman and the Joker among them, along with werewolves, Dracula-styled vampires, zombies, witches, a ballerina, a Playboy bunny, someone who was either dressed as Weird Al or was actually Weird Al, and my personal favorite, an older couple with the woman in costume as Jimmy Buffett and the man as a giant margarita glass, complete with salt on the rim.

When Wonderful Night by Fatboy Slim began to play, we ditched our drinks and wormed our way back into the middle of the dance floor, and as I watched Tom gyrating and spinning and jumping I was reminded of how music was such a powerful force in both our lives, how it moved us, allowed us to express our own through someone else’s words…and in that moment, I thought of THE song, the one that could say for me all the things my mind couldn’t seem to put to order as yet. As Wonderful Night finished, I yelled in Tom’s ear.

“I’m going to see if the DJ takes requests, okay? Be right back.”

As I walked to his table, he looked up, saw me, then looked back down and began typing on his phone. Upon reaching him, I bent down and shouted above the din of Cotton Eye Joe, which, frankly, I was thrilled to me missing out on.

“Hi there! Love your set so far…I was wondering…do you take requests?”

He nodded, stood, then motioned for me to follow him into the kitchen, where it was insanely busy but much quieter. Shorter than me, native Hawaiian if I had to guess, slightly overweight with dark hair back in a ponytail and tucked under his backwards baseball cap, dressed in a black Walking Dead T-shirt and white board shorts, a huge smile lit up his face and made me smile in return.

“For you? I absolutely do. Especially if you promise to keep dancing. You and your fiancé are the life of this party, man.”

My head tilted to the side, and he laughed heartily, extending his hand. “I’m Sammy Hale, otherwise known as All Hale the DJ. My wife Melanie is a huge fan, of you and Tom both. You should have heard her screeching when she saw his Tweet earlier…heck, maybe you DID. It was that loud.”

I laughed as well, accepting his proffered hand and shaking vigorously. “Maude Gallagher. But you knew that already. So, you recognized Tom? Nicely done.”

“Do you have any idea how many pictures of that man I’ve seen? But honestly, I knew who you were first, and once he started dancing I was sure it was him. She shows me videos, too. Congratulations, by the way. Here, look at what she posted on Facebook when she found out.”

He handed me his phone, and I focused in on the screen.

“Tom and Maude just got engaged right here on the island…I’m so happy for them! What an exciting time! And imagine…what if they decide to get married here? Even crazier, what if they choose my place for the reception? I’m such a hopeless dreamer, LOL.”

Eyes wide, I returned my gaze to Sammy. “Her place?”

“Well, it’s not really her place…but she’s been there since college so it feels like it is, I guess, plus she’s very passionate about her job…she’s the head event coordinator at the Coconut Beach Marriott.”

“Seriously?”

He nodded. “It’s a beautiful hotel, perfect setting, amazing beach…”

“Oh, I’m aware. That’s where we’re staying.” I pulled up his contacts, which was probably rude, but when fate intervenes you have to set such things as. “This is my personal cell number. Will you have her call me, please? We are getting married on Kauai, and the Marriott never crossed my mind as a reception location until right now. June 29th, 2016…that all needs to be kept under wraps, though…”

He looked shell-shocked as I handed him back his phone. “She has prior experience with celebrity weddings that required thorough confidentiality. Wow. This is…this is off the hook. It’s going to take me a good while to convince her I’m not yanking her chain when I tell her.”

Hand on my hip, I pointed at him. “Tell you what…Tom and I will do a video hello for her to send first so she knows for sure you met us, then you can break the news later. Sound good?”

His head shook back and forth slowly. “Sometimes, the universe just sets such amazing things you never expected right in front of you…”

“HA! Tell me about it. So…about my requests…” I provided him with my short list of songs, then revealed my plan, which he seemed nearly as excited about as I was. I went out and brought Tom into the kitchen to film our video hello for Melanie, who was, we were told, out trick or treating with their three little ones, ages eight, five and two. Once it was sent off, it was back to dancing. And, for me, waiting, riddled with anxiety and wondering if I’d be able to pull off what I’d decided to do without fucking it up too badly.

I lost track of time and space, especially after being whirled around to You Should Be Dancing, and how many songs had played between that and Poison by the Prodigy, I had not a clue…but that song and the one after were my cues, and I was at once grateful to have recognized the first but terrified that it was almost…time. Tom grinned fiendishly when he heard the opening notes, and we danced separately at first, him pausing during one section where the beat allowed me to do some hula-like hip shaking, then spinning me around so he could grind up against me until it was over. That was followed Steve Aoki’s Freak, during which I fully exercised my right to behave badly. Very, very badly, rubbing my scantily clad nether region up and down his leather covered thigh, bending over in front of him, his hands on my hips as he bucked against me, grabbing my ass occasionally, ending with his turning me back towards him and lifting my leg up so I could wrap it around his waist. After the last beat, I pulled away from him and headed once again to the DJ table, and Sammy handed me a microphone. Several deep breaths later in the strange silence, I began.

“Um, hi. Terribly sorry to interrupt the tunes, but…” I pointed at Tom, whose makeup had begun to run just a tiny bit, hair damp with sweat, body glistening with it as well, standing and staring at me with an expression of puzzlement upon his face. “That beautiful man right there…a few hours ago, he proposed to me in the most spectacular way possible.”

The crowd cheered and I held up my left hand, waggling my fingers. “Of course I said YES.” Everyone laughed, and I honed in on him, everything else becoming a blur. “Tom, I love you. So much. You…you are my everything. What you did for me today, how much my life has changed since we met here, on this island, back in June…I can never seem to find the right words to properly convey how it’s made me feel. So, I’m going to use someone else’s. And I’m going to sing them, because I think you kind of like it when I sing.”

The crowd had cleared around him, and he’d come closer, now standing six feet away, and as he nodded I could see his eyes had filled with tears. The song began to play, Flyleaf’s All Around Me, which was probably unknown to most of the folks at Rob’s, and perhaps to Tom as well…but it was perfect, and I sang along with Lacey Sturm, though Sammy had muted her vocals down to what essentially amounted to background noise.

“My hands are searching for you My arms are outstretched towards you I feel you on my fingertips My tongue dances behind my lips for you This fire rising through my being Burning I’m not used to seeing you I’m alive, I’m alive I can feel you all around me Thickening the air I’m breathing Holding on to what I’m feeling Savoring this heart that’s healing My hands float up above me And you whisper you love me And I begin to fade Into our secret place The music makes me sway The angels singing say we are alone with you I am alone and they are too with you I’m alive I’m alive I can feel you all around me Thickening the air I’m breathing Holding on to what I’m feeling Savoring this heart that’s healing So I cry (Holy) The light is white (Holy) And I see you I’m alive I’m alive I’m alive And I can feel you all around me Thickening the air I’m breathing Holding on to what I’m feeling Savoring this heart that’s healing Take my hand I give it to you Now you own me All I am You said you would never leave me I believe you I believe I can feel you all around me Thickening the air I’m breathing Holding on to what I’m feeling Savoring this heart that’s healed”

As was my habit, I lowered my chin to my chest once I finished. I knew I’d struggled with a few bits that were at the upper edge of my range, but to my ear, at least, it had sounded okay overall. When I raised my head up, I saw Tom, openly weeping and rushing towards me, wrapping his arms around me and burying his face in my neck as the crowd began to applaud and cheer. I rubbed his back as he murmured words of thanks and adoration in my ear, finally pulling back to look into my eyes.

“Pretty sure I already knew it, but now it’s completely crystal clear to me…asking you to be my wife was by far the smartest decision I’ve ever made, and likely ever WILL make. Thank you, for saying yes, for being willing to spend the rest of your life with me, ME, for loving me, and for that song. I will never forget this day, this hour, this moment…my god, how I love you…”

I poked his shoulder. “Dude. Shush. You’re totally stealing my thunder.”

We both laughed, and when we heard ourselves do so over the sound system, it dawned on me that the mic was still hot, and I brought it up to my lips again.

“Well, now you know why I had to resort to singing, right?” The crowd erupted in laughter as I flicked the off switch, and seemingly out of nowhere Luke and Simon arrived, embracing Tom and I from either side. Simon’s wig was mildly askew, and I made a huffing noise.

“Um, Simon…did you, like HEAR me sing or were you, like, BUSY?”

A rare blush spread across his cheeks. “So, who’s ready to head back to the hotel?”

Luke was red as a beet as well, and I snorted.

“I’m not sure whether I should be pissed or proud. How about I decide on the ride?”

They bolted towards the door, and Tom took my hand, leading me outside and to the Jeep without another word.

****************************************

The relative silence continued as I drove, just the noise of the wind, all of our windows rolled down to let in the night air. We said our goodnights in the hallway, and as soon as the door closed behind us Tom had me up against the wall, a sense of deja vu washing over me. His mouth found mine, tongue thrusting in roughly, groaning as I bit down on it gently before sucking firmly. Moving my head the way I wanted was entirely too challenging with the horns on, so I yanked them off and tossed them across the room, along with the arm wraps. He buried one hand in my fake hair, and I could feel him fumbling behind me with the other, searching for the bra clasp. I grabbed his arms, pulled them in front of me, then placed his hands on my breasts, hoping he’d get the hint. Instead, he opted to show off his motorboating skills, followed by testing his fangs, dragging them back and forth across my still-covered nipples.

“Fuck. Tom. Front. It’s in the front. Take it off. OFF.”

A moment passed as he pondered the mechanics of the thing, followed by my boobs springing free as he slid the straps off my shoulders, down my arms, off my wrists, pulling it from behind me and finally dropping it unceremoniously onto the carpet. The right nipple was his first target, laving it with his tongue, sucking it into his mouth, then biting it gently until I swatted him away, at which point he switched to the left one. Using his hands, he pressed my breasts together, tongue sliding back and forth quickly from nipple to nipple, my head flopping back against the wall, eyes closed. Suddenly, he was gone, and when I opened my eyes he was staring at the belt, and when the latch that closed it couldn’t be easily located, he forced the belt and attached fabric over my hips, taking the booty shorts along with it, tapping first one leg, then the other, prompting me to lift each in turn so he could slip the shorts over my boots and move the belt out of the danger zone.

I watched as his eyes roamed over me, standing naked but for my thigh-high boots, and I could see he was rock hard right through the leather. Reaching out, I lifted the hem of his shirt and yanked upward, and he lifted his arms, licking his lips, eyes rolling back into his head as I paused to flick his nipples with my tongue. He stepped back, completing the removal of the shirt himself, grunted, then rotated me roughly until I was facing the wall. It was then that he spoke his first words, other than wishing Simon and Luke a good night, since we left the bar.

“Arms above your head, all the way up. Hands on the wall.” Short, curt, and nearly a growl. I complied, moaning as his hands grasped my inner thighs, pushing outward, indicating that I should spread my legs. I complied with that, as well, hearing the sound of a snap coming undone and zipper being pulled as I moved. His cock dripped into the crack of my ass as he gauged our alignment.

“That’s it. Just like that. Don’t move a muscle.”

His left hand wrapped around my wrists, holding them to the wall, and with his right he guided himself to my entrance, just the tip of him nudging inside. As I began to push backward, the same hand moved first to stroke my belly, then downward, his middle finger reaching into my folds to circle my clit as he thrust forward, my hips hitting the wall as he slid home. He’d left just enough room to allow his finger to continue its stroking, but left me no way to move, pinned in place hanging on his cock. And because apparently that wasn’t enough torture, that’s when his fangs sank into my neck, causing me to orgasm without even the slightest warning, clamping down on him, desperate for friction but unable to attain it.

“Oh god oh my god ohmygod Tom…I need…need…you…move…you have to move. MOVE. Please. PLEASE.”

He ignored me, focused intently on my neck, biting, sucking and finally licking the spot he was finished with, then moving on to another. That pain, mingled with the pleasure originating from his consistently stroking finger, drew me to the brink, easing off whenever his mouth relocated, and just when I was ready to begin to genuinely protest against his edging, he began circling his hips in time with his finger.

“Is that better, Maude? Need my cock in motion, do you? Need to feel it rubbing against every bit of you, pressing against your walls, round and round we go, where we stop, nobody knows?”

“Fuck off.”

He stopped moving.

“Okay, fine. How about fuck ME instead?”

Nothing but stillness. Even his finger had ceased its ministrations.

“Thomas.”

Nada. Time to break out the big guns, then. Fulfilling, months later, a request he’d made back in New Orleans. I started to sing Closer.

“You let me violate you, you let me desecrate you You let me penetrate you, you let me complicate you Help me I broke apart my insides, help me I’ve got no soul to sell Help me the only thing that works for me, help me get away from myself”

He swallowed, hard enough that I could feel it against my back. I continued.

“I want to fuck you like an animal I want to feel you from the inside I want to fuck you like an animal My whole existence is flawed You get me closer to god”

He began moving again, but much faster, adding thrusts to his circling.

“You can have my isolation, you can have the hate that it brings You can have my absence of faith, you can have my everything Help me tear down my reason, help me its’ your sex I can smell Help me you make me perfect, help me become somebody else”

When I got to the word ‘perfect’ he groaned, loud and long and full of neediness, almost throwing me off my tempo as he let go of my wrists, pulled out of me and spun me around.

“I want to fuck you like an animal I want to feel you from the inside”

He lifted my left leg by the back of the knee, holding it aloft and allowing me to wrap it around his waist as he shoved himself back into me, eyes on mine, wild, pupils fully blown, jaw clenched, tips of the fangs resting on the edge of his lower lip. I leaned back against the wall, his weight pinning me again as I lifted the other leg and wrapped it around his waist as well.

“I want to fuck you like an animal My whole existence is flawed You get me closer to god”

He began slamming into me, pulling out, then slamming in again, our gazes still locked, my hands clenched together behind his neck. I leaned forward to run my tongue across his lips.

“That’s it. Come on. Fuck me.”

His breathing was labored, his reply more of a grunt as he moved faster and faster. “Like. An. Animal.”

“Mmm hmm. Just like that.” I began bucking against him as his finger found my clit again. “More. Harder. More. Make me scream.”

He lowered his head, breaking eye contact in order to sink his teeth into the unmarked side of my neck, and that’s when, I did, in fact, scream. Entirely too loudly for well past 9 PM, even on a Saturday. The bite grew ever harder as he stifled his own scream, spurting inside me as my walls convulsed around him, finally letting go just as I thought the skin would break.

We stilled, coming down, without separating. He leaned back a bit, inspecting his work.

“Well. That…I…lord, are you all right?”

I snorted. “I think it probably looks worse than it feels.”

“I sincerely hope that’s the case. Sorry, love. You singing to me in conjunction with watching nearly every man in that bar gawking at you resulted in my feeling incredibly…territorial.”

“Men were gawking at me?”

Both eyebrows shot up. “You didn’t notice?”

I shook my head. “That’d be a big ‘ole NOPE. Probably because that, like, never happens. And don’t be sorry. I spent a good portion of the evening relishing how those fangs felt on my neck and dying for…more.” A huge grin spread across my face. “I adore your feeling territorial…like you enjoyed my jealousy, I suppose. Next time if the urge to shout ‘Stop ogling my girlfriend you blood louts!’ arises, I totally won’t hold it against you if you succumb to it.”

“Fiancée.”

After unwinding my legs one at a time and ensuring the solidity of my feet on the floor, I removed my hands from behind his neck and stared at my ring as he slipped out of me. “Fiancée. By the time I’m used to saying that, it’ll be ‘wife’.”

He kissed the tip of my nose. “But that will be the only other name you’ll ever have to get used to. Well, except for mum…”

I looked down at myself, naked but for the boots and the ring, and began to giggle.

A smile spread across his face. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, really. Just that there’s a man in leather pants, wearing a blond wig and sporting vampire teeth with his cock hanging out, talking to a woman wearing only thigh-high lace-up leather boots, an engagement ring and a smile about…about…” My giggles turned into chortling. “KIDS. About having kids. And I can’t help but see it…us, when we’re like, fifty, sneaking into a bedroom late at night, neglecting to lock the door and a Hiddlespawn wandering in and seeing us…like this…ohmygod…”

He threw back his head, laughing that infectious laugh that was uniquely his. “We’ll just explain that sex is a natural thing, that it’s a wonderful, beautiful expression of love between two people and that sometimes…”

“Bwhahahaha! SOMETIMES, kid, you inadvertently discover that your parents are kinky as fuck when you don’t KNOCK before entering a room.”

After composing ourselves, we provided wig removal assistance for each other, then hit the shower. Tom got out before I did, and just as I finished drying off and putting on my robe there was a knock at the door. I turned to Tom, eyes wide.

“Christ, Simon and Luke have to be passed out by now for sure, so who the hell is THAT?”

He shrugged and answered it, his black shorts hanging low on his hips, and when the door closed he turned around, a covered dish in his left hand. He walked to the desk, set it down, and removed the lid, revealing a cheesecake topped with strawberries, a tiny Happy Birthday pick and six candles. I swiped the side of it with my index finger, then licked…and as soon as it hit my taste buds, I gasped.

“Hiddleston. That’s a Carnegie Deli cheesecake.”

Nodding, he leaned in to kiss my cheek. “Did you think I’d dare forget CAKE? Happy Birthday, Maude.”

I pinched his arm. Hard. He jumped, squealing. “Sorry. I just needed to make sure you were real. So now I have confirmation of that, which is cool. But a real…what? That’s the question. Because you CANNOT be human. And…whatever it is that you are…how is it that you’re…mine?”

His arms wrapped around my waist from my left side, chin on my shoulder. “I hope you realize that I ask myself those same questions. Repeatedly. And, I think in order to answer them, we have to consider that…maybe…maybe apart, we’re human…but together, we’re something that transcends that, those earthly, tangible limitations.”

“Huh. You know what? I think that together…that something…it manifests itself as human again. That’s…it’s…that’s…children.”

A sharp intake of breath from him, followed by a gentle kiss on my neck. “I believe you’re on to something there, my love.”

Twisting my head so I could meet his gaze, I winked. “I believe I totally one-upped you there, my love.”

He laughed. “Oh, you most definitely did. I’m impressed.”

“Heh. Prepare to be even more thoroughly impressed as I devour this entire cheesecake.”

His nose nuzzled against my clavicle. “None for me?”

Sighing, I patted his arm. “Well, I suppose if you do a decent job of singing happy birthday you can have a slice. A SMALL slice…”

He lit the candles, sang it Hank style, and as I blew out the candles I realized that there really wasn’t anything left for me to wish for. Everything I could ever have wanted, or needed, was right there in that room, and as we gorged ourselves sitting out on the balcony, admiring the three-quarter moon reflecting on the water, the truth of the lyrics from the song I’d sung for him overwhelmed me, ‘I can feel you all around me, thickening the air I’m breathing, holding on to what I’m feeling, savoring this heart that’s healed’ and I leapt up from my chair and stood before him, taking his face in my hands, tilting his head upward as I spoke eight simple words that made us both weep.

“Thank you. For everything. I love you. Always.”

[ibelongtonegan]

Blood and Chocolate (Negan one-shot)

This story is for @jeffreydeanneganstrash’s “Negan’s Valentine Challenge”. Thank you for allowing me to participate in this!

The prompt that I chose was “Handcuffs x Chocolate” and while in itself it would have called for a simple Valentine’s Day fuckfest involving handcuffs and candies, I decided to spice things up a little bit with a few drops of blood. I have always wanted to write a fic on period sex and decided to combine it with this prompt. While I know it may not be everybody’s cup of tea (please read the warnings before reading!), I had a lot of fun writing this fic and hope you will like it!

Summary: you can’t wait to celebrate Valentine’s Day with Negan but being on your period you are not comfortable with the idea of becoming intimate with your husband until he convinces you otherwise...

Characters: Negan x Reader

Word count: 5,760

Warnings: daddy kink, dirty talk, smut (cum play, oral sex, orgasm withdrawal, period blood play, period sex, rough sex, spanking, vaginal sex), swearing

Tags: @jeffreydeanneganstrash, @negans-network, @i-am-negan-trash, @emoryhemsworth, @ridingmoxley, @ladysyn, ​

Please let me know if you want on/off my forever tag list!

I appreciate feedback and most days don’t bite. So don’t be shy, please feel free to comment, message or ask me anything!

You winced in pain and wrapped your arms around your legs, hugging them close to your chest. You would have given an arm and a leg for a Tylenol right now, or better yet, your uterus and all your remaining ovaries to make the pain stop, but unfortunately the Sanctuary had run out of painkillers weeks ago. Before the apocalypse, you would have popped a pill or used a hot pillow to curl up in bed with along with your favourite TV show and a bar of chocolate to make it through the first day of your period. You were lucky that cramps only bothered you at the beginning of your flow and then subsided quickly, but without any of the comforts you were used to before it was a dreadful day every month.

But pain was not the only thing that bothered you this evening. You had to get your period today of all days. It wasn’t supposed to start until late next week, but for some reason, it decided to grace you with its presence unexpectedly and if that wasn’t enough, right on Valentine’s Day. Or, to be more precise, on your day of Valentine’s Week.

Since your husband had multiple wives, seven in total and couldn’t split Valentine’s Day into seven equal pieces, Negan decided to celebrate each day of the week with another wife, renaming it Valentine’s Week. He allowed you to agree on the schedule and each of the wives to pick their favourite day in advance and you were more than happy to go with Sunday, the last Valentine’s Day of the week.

But Mother Nature seemed to have other plans for you. Instead of moans of pleasure she decided to gift you with moans of pain, to remind you of her almighty presence in the grand scheme of things, with little regard to the world turning into a living hell with reanimated corpses walking among the living, or today being Valentine’s Day and your plans for a night of carnal bliss with your husband. You hoped that whoever Mother Nature was, she went through the same hell of cramps every month. It was only fair.  

You had no idea what to do about your predicament. Had you known that your period was about to start, you would have picked another day of the week, but it was too late for that now. When Simon knocked on your door an hour ago with an envelope and a beautiful gift box in hand, your heart skipped a beat. The envelope contained a letter handwritten by Negan telling you that he was looking forward to spending tonight with you and that he wanted you to wear the gift he sent you and nothing else.

You knew that Negan would inevitably come to your room, but didn’t know how to tell him that you couldn’t spend the night with him. You had never refused his advances before and having been a wife for only a month, you had not had to deal with the question of sex on your period either. You could have asked Sherry or Amber for advice but being Negan’s newest wife meant that you weren’t close enough to any of them yet to trust them with such a personal matter.

First, you didn’t even want to open the box, and just set it aside. You had no intention of changing out of your comfortable sweatpants and oversized hoodie that wrapped you up in a cocoon, safe and warm. But curiosity got the better of you. Slowly untying the black ribbon, you unwrapped the shiny silver paper, careful not to tear it. Inside was an elegant cream coloured cardboard box with two words written on it in ornate black letters:

Agent Provocateur

You removed the lid of the box and put your hands in front of your mouth in shock. It was the most beautiful set of lingerie you had ever seen. Sheer, black, lacy, complete with bra, thong, stockings and suspenders, wrapped in elegant tissue paper. Leaving little to the imagination and designated for a single purpose: to seduce and be seduced. The perfect gift for Valentine’s Day, for both of your pleasure. You couldn’t help but bow down before your husband’s impeccable taste.

You ran your fingers over the fabric and imagined how soft it would feel on your skin. Closing your eyes, you saw Negan in front of you entering your room and taking in for the first time your half-naked form lying on the bed wearing the outfit he had selected for you. You could see his hazel eyes, dark with hunger and him licking his lips in anticipation. His mouth curled up into a smirk revealing a set of dimples that made him even more handsome. He was about to speak, and you expected to hear a remark of appreciation, followed by something naughty. But the words you heard next were anything but naughty and nothing resembling appreciation.

“Doll, why the fuckity fuck haven’t you changed into the clothes I sent you?”

Your eyes snapped open, and your mouth fell agape when you noticed Negan standing at the door with a look of displeasure written on his face. You got so caught up in your little fantasy that you didn’t hear him enter your room.  

He was wearing grey pants, and a white t-shirt, his red scarf wrapped around his neck and his signature black leather jacket draped over his shoulder leisurely. The only item missing from his usual attire was Lucille, but the fact that he was currently sans his beloved baseball bat didn’t make his presence any less intimidating. He held two boxes in his hand, a smaller, rectangular one and a bigger, heart-shaped one.

The intensity of his gaze made you freeze, the invisible command in his eyes leaving no doubt in you that he was expecting an answer, and quickly. Negan had little patience for disobedience, and right now you were actively ignoring his wish he had expressed loud and clear in his letter. While you had been a wife for a short time only, you knew well enough that this could be considered a dangerous game, which wouldn’t go unpunished if you didn’t come up with a reasonable explanation.

“I’m sorry, Negan,” you replied timidly, looking down on the set of lingerie sitting on your lap. “It’s beautiful, I love it. It’s just that...I’m not feeling like it today. It’s one of my ugly days.”

You put the lid back on the box and set it down on the cushion feeling as if you didn’t deserve such a special gift.

“Nonsense, baby. Every day is your ‘fucking sexy’ day if you ask me.” Negan removed his leather jacket from his shoulder and draped it over the couch next to the door.

You peaked up at him through your eyelashes following his every move in an attempt to assess his mood. While he looked tense and somewhat disappointed, probably having expected to see you in less and much sexier clothing by this point, he didn’t seem to be angry with you either. Your excuse, even if it was only half the truth, was enough to spare you his wrath at your insubordination, at least for now. But Negan was a tenacious man, and you were sure he wasn’t going to let it go, especially when it concerned the promise of sex or especially the denial of it.

He made his way to your bed and sat down next to you, the mattress sinking in slightly under his weight.

“Look, baby, I brought you more presents,” he beamed putting down the two boxes on the bed between you. “Open the red one first.”

He nuzzled your hair with his nose, his hot breath sending goosebumps down your arms. You closed your eyes and inhaled his manly scent, a combination of leather, body wash and musk. You lifted the top of the heart-shaped box and found a selection of handmade chocolates inside, arranged in a beautiful pattern.

“Chocolate?” you squealed in delight. “I haven’t had chocolate in...I don’t know since when. Thank you, Negan. But how did you get this?” you asked in surprise. Such delicacies were a particularly rare treat in the apocalypse and practically impossible to find.

“I have my ways,” he muttered while starting to trail soft kisses along your neck. “Happy Valentine’s Day, baby. Now open the black box,” he instructed.

You set the chocolate down on the nightstand and opened the second box. Lifting the lid, you found a pair of silver handcuffs resting on a purple cushion inside.

“Oh...am I in trouble, Daddy?” you purred against his lips innocently.

Fire flashed in his eyes at your words and the air between you changed suddenly, turning from light and playful to hot and heavy.

“You are in a whole fucking lot of trouble, little one,” he groaned deeply, and the underlying threat in his words made heat pool in your belly. He moved his hand up to your neck and gently tilted your head back to get more access to your exposed skin.

For a moment you almost forgot that you couldn’t have sex with him tonight. The scrape of his stubble left a delicious burn in its wake, making you go weak in the knees. You wanted him and wanted to give in to him, but couldn’t. Shaking your head to regain your composure you leaned away from your husband’s touch reluctantly.

“I’m not sure about tonight, Negan,” you offered meekly, fidgeting with the handcuffs in your lap. The metal jingled between your shaking fingers.

A disapproving look crossed Negan’s face. He might have had little patience for disobedience, but he had zero tolerance for stalling, and you could tell that he knew something was up. Still, you were too embarrassed to reveal the real reason for your rejection and were desperately searching for a way out of your dilemma without pissing your husband off.  

“I mean...I didn’t get you anything for Valentine’s Day,” you asserted and cringed internally at how lame it sounded as soon as the words left your mouth. “I know Frankie gave you a naked oil massage on Wednesday and Amber baked you heart-shaped muffins yesterday. I ran out of ideas on what I could give you that they haven’t done already before me. I’m sorry that I cannot reciprocate your gifts.”

You looked up at Negan hoping you sounded and looked convincing. He tilted his head to the side and studied your face for a moment, apparently trying to decide if you were being sincere or playing games with him. Finally, the corners of his lips curled upwards into a lascivious smile, flashing his pearly white teeth.

“I don’t mind, baby girl. You can repay me in kind,” he chuckled tracing his upper lips with the tip of his tongue and started kissing your neck again. “I think we should put these to good use right away,” Negan coaxed with a devilish smirk and picking up the handcuffs from the box in your lap, twirled them around his index finger lazily.

“Negan...I’m not sure about this,” you mumbled under your breath, hating that you couldn’t say yes to him.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart, you are usually up for kinky sex!” Negan regarded you with a puzzled expression, visibly getting impatient now.

“I’m not feeling well, to be honest.”

“I will make you feel better immediately,” he winked at you suggestively and lowered his hand to your lap, tracing circles on the soft fabric. The heat of his fingers was seeping through the sweatpants right into your core.

“Negan, stop. We can’t...,” you pleaded and put your hand on his before it could go higher up your thigh.

“Oh, okay, I see what’s going on now.” His eyes lit up like someone had flipped a switch. “You’re playing hard to get. I love it when you do that.”

“No, it’s not that, Negan.”

You shook your head in desperation and put your hand firmly on his chest to keep him at a safe distance.

“Then what the fuck is it, doll? Because you are sure as shit wearing my patience thin,” Negan snapped, the playful tone of earlier now completely gone from his voice. “Tell me!” he demanded in irritation.

“I’m sorry, Negan, it’s...it’s just that...it’s that time of the month!” you blurted out partly relieved that the truth was finally out but on the other hand feeling even more embarrassed than before. “And...I have cramps, feel bloated and ugly, and you cannot possibly want me like this,” you finished with a sigh and wrapped your arms around your chest protectively.

You expected Negan to stand up and leave the room angered and disappointed with you but instead, he cupped your chin and lifted it up so that you were looking at him. His face showed no sign of anger or disappointment, but pure infatuation and raw passion.

“Baby, you are my wife, and I love you. I would want you even if you were covered in walker guts,” he stated matter-of-factly.

“Ewww...,” you wrinkled your nose in disgust and slapped his arm lightly.

“Plus I have the perfect cure for your cramps,” Negan added with a wink.

“I thought we ran out of painkillers.”

“We did, but this is a natural remedy.”

A hint of mischief gleamed in his eyes.

“A pill?” you queried.

“No, doll, this one is not taken orally. Well, it can be, but not if you wish to take advantage of its beneficial side-effects.”

You looked at your husband honestly bewildered now.

“I don’t understand. What kind of medication is this then?”

“I have it right here tucked away in my pants,” Negan said simply and laid back on his elbows on the mattress.

At first, you thought he meant tucked away in his pockets but then followed his gaze to the centre of his pants and the outline of an impressive bulge.

You folded your arms in front of your chest and narrowed your eyes at him with a frown.

“Negan, if this is another one of your dirty jokes then I’m not in the mood for them right now.”

“No, doll. This is no joke. The cure for your cramps is sex. There is nothing better to make the pain go away than an orgasm.”

“But is...sex on my period? You know...?”

“Is that what?” he inquired sensing your hesitation.

“Normal?” you whispered, feeling your cheeks heat up, still not entirely comfortable with talking about the topic in front of him.

“Why the fuck wouldn’t it be normal? Yeah, it can be a little messy, but I fucking love messy sex. You never had sex on your period before?”  

You shook your head embarrassed.

“My ex...he said that it was gross and he wouldn’t come near me when it was “shark week” as he liked to call it. He thought that period blood was disgusting and that I smelled weird during those days, no matter how many times I showered.”

Negan made a low grunt in his throat and bared his teeth like an angry wolf.

“Doll, that stupid fuck should be glad that he’s dead already, otherwise I would track him down and shove Lucille right up his sorry ass and twirl her around twice to teach him a lesson for that fucking insult. Period sex is abso-fucking-lutely normal, hell, I find it fucking awesome! Not that I don’t find sex in general awesome already, but there’s just something about period sex that makes it even hotter than usual.”

His confession amazed you. Not only was he not grossed out by the idea, but he was even turned on by it!

“But won’t it hurt?”

“Well, I can’t make any promises to go slow, you know how worked up being inside that hot pussy of yours makes me, but I’ll try to go gentler than usual. If you feel any discomfort, you tell me, okay?”

“But I don’t want to ruin the sheets...or the couch!” you argued knowing the favourite spots of Negan in your room to have sex.

“And you won’t, because we will have sex in the shower. The warm water will help to ease your cramps and wash away the blood. Easy peasy lemon squeezy.”

You contemplated his words for a few seconds. His eyes showed a mixture of need and affection. He genuinely wanted you, no matter what, and the realisation felt like a massive weight had been lifted off your shoulder.

“Okay, I’m out of excuses,” you admitted finally with a lopsided smile.

“Thank-fucking-God,” Negan breathed. “The tent in my pants is killing me already.”

He cupped your cheek and crashed his lips on yours devouring them in a heated kiss.

“Then let me do something about that, Daddy,” you murmured against his mouth and lowered your hand to his fly intent on following up on your promise right away, but Negan stopped you by grabbing your hands before you could pull down the zipper.

“Uh-oh. Not so fast, little one. Didn’t you forget something?”

You looked at him quizzically.

“What do you mean, Daddy?”

“You disobeyed my order on what to wear and tried to turn me down because you were too shy to communicate with me. That’s two strikes already, and I have been in your room for only ten minutes. You know that I cannot let something like that slide. I am your husband, and there are no secrets you can keep from me. Understood?”

You nodded obediently.

“Yes, Daddy. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“I know it fucking won’t because I will make sure you remember it after tonight,” Negan affirmed with an evil grin. “Now let’s get you out of these clothes.”

“Yes, Daddy,” you nodded submissively.

“Good girl. Hold up your arms.”

Negan put down the handcuffs on the bed sheet and lifted the hem of your hoodie, pulling it over your head along with your t-shirt. He unclasped your bra with his calloused fingers and tossed it behind him. He placed his palms on your shoulders and pushed you down on the mattress, trailing featherlike kisses and soft bites along your neck and collarbone. Reaching your breasts, he cupped each of them in his large hands and massaged them gently. Bending down, he latched his mouth on your perk nipple. He sucked it between his lips greedily, eliciting a long wail from you.

“Do you like this, baby?” he inquired looking up from his ministrations with lust-filled eyes.

“Yes, Daddy. Please don’t stop,” you pleaded unabashedly.

“Good girl, asking so nicely. Tell me what you want Daddy to do.”

The answer would have been for him to taste you but your mind stopped you from saying it out loud. That wasn’t an option now.

“Speak up, little one or I will stop right now,” Negan urged sensing your uncertainty.

“Uhm...I’m sorry, Daddy. I want something that we can’t do now...”

“We can do anything you want, baby girl. Speak!” he insisted pinching your nipple. You yelped at the sensation, complaining about the rough treatment of your oversensitive bud.

“I want you to taste my pussy, Daddy,” you whimpered helplessly.

“Is that right, princess? Then Daddy shall do exactly that.”

Negan continued his way down from your breasts along your stomach. He dipped his tongue into your belly button, and you couldn’t help but giggle uncontrollably. You put your hands on top of his head and tried to push him further down, away from your tickle spot and closer to where you wanted to feel him the most.

“Patience, baby girl. Daddy will give you what you want but only if you are good for him,” Negan warned, and you huffed in protest, letting your hands fall back on the sheet next to your body.

Your reaction didn’t meet his approval, and you felt a slap against your clothed sex, earning a yelp from you at the unexpected punishment.

“Behave, little one or I will not go easy on you. You already have two strikes today, don’t make me give you another one. You know what happens if you get a third strike, right?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“I want to hear you say it,” Negan demanded in a low voice.

“You will punish me, and I don’t get to cum.”

“And why is that? Tell me!” he pressed further.

“Because bad girls don’t get to cum,” you replied dutifully.

“That is exactly right, sweetheart,” he hissed with a wicked gleam in his eyes. “Stay where you are and do not move.”

He stood up swiftly and made his way to the bathroom, closing the door behind him. You raised yourself on your elbows, curious about what he was up to, but the faint noises coming from behind the door gave little away. You heard the sound of drawers opening and closing.

You looked around the room and felt your stomach rumble when your eyes settled on the heart-shaped box lying on the nightstand. You peeked over your shoulder, listening for clues on how much time you had before your husband’s return but heard nothing. Your stomach growled again, louder this time, reminding you of the skipped dinner.

You got up from the bed and lifted the lid of the box carefully. The scent of chocolate hit your nostrils and made your mouth water. Making a little dance with your fingers, you contemplated which piece of dessert to choose, and then finally settled on a milk chocolate ball sprinkled with sea salt. You popped the little ball into your mouth and moaned out loud as it melted in your mouth, and the flavour hit your taste buds. The combination of sweet and salty was caressing your tongue like a soft pillow, and you closed your eyes to savour the sensation.

“If I remember correctly, I told you to stay where you were and not to move,” you heard Negan’s cold voice from behind you and spun around on your heel. “I have a feeling that you have just earned your third strike, little one.”

He was standing at the bathroom door, with a black towel in hand and a sinister look on his face. He was not wearing his t-shirt anymore, and the red scarf was missing from around his neck. You couldn’t help but marvel at the salt and pepper curls adorning his toned chest. “Congratulations. Three strikes in half an hour. I think that’s a fucking world record. What a shame that your prize is going to be anything but a reward.”

You fidgeted nervously under his penetrating gaze and were trying to think of an excuse to lessen your punishment, but knew that it was a lost cause.

“I know you like to be punished, but I think that will change quickly if I make your punishment less enjoyable for you and more pleasurable for me,” Negan mused biting his lower lip.

“I’m sorry, Daddy, I couldn’t help it. My hormones are giving me cravings,” you replied while swallowing down the remnants of the chocolate in your mouth.

“Naughty, naughty girl,” Negan growled dangerously as he started advancing on you. “I see that you need to be taught a lesson. I was going to eat you out first to get you nice and ready for me, but not anymore, baby girl.” When he reached you, he grabbed the box of chocolate from your hand, tossed it on the bed and picked up the handcuffs lying on the sheet. “We are done going slow tonight. Turn around.”

His words made a shiver run down your spine. You turned around and felt him grab your right wrist and pull it behind your back. You heard the click of the handcuffs and felt the cold metal around one wrist then the other. Without further ado, he grabbed your arm and pulled you towards the bathroom. He pushed the door open and dragged you inside, kicking the door shut after you with a loud bang. The lights were off, but the bathroom was lit by a dozen candles scattered around the sink, their soft glow dancing on your skin as the movement of the door made them flicker. Negan must have lit them while you were outside snacking on the chocolate.

Negan unbuckled his belt and pulled down his pants and boxers, his cock springing free and hitting his stomach. Droplets of precum were coating his swollen tip, glistening in the dim light. He hooked his fingers in your sweatpants and tugged them down your hips along with your panties, letting them pool on the floor at your feet and then helped you out of them. Once you were standing completely naked in front of him, you crossed your legs, trying to hide the thin blue string peeking out between your legs in shame.

“Tsk, tsk...,” Negan shook his head and showed his hands between your legs to force them apart, pulled out the tampon in one quick motion and tossed it into the trashcan unceremoniously.

You could feel warm blood trickle down your inner thigh, but Negan didn’t seem to care as he stepped into the shower and started the water. Once he was happy with the temperature, he turned around and pulled you inside the cabin after him.

Before you knew it, you were shown against the cold tile wall, his tongue demanding access to your mouth aggressively. The handcuffs pressed into your back painfully, and you tried to hold onto the slippery surface as the warm water from the shower cascaded down on you. Negan’s hands were roaming your body, grabbing, groping and exploring every inch of your naked form greedily. Once his hand reached your pussy, he slipped a finger inside you, the combined wetness of your arousal and blood allowing him easy access. Slowly, he slid a second finger in next to the first and began to scissor them gently. Your pussy clenched around him instinctively, and you groaned out loud at the loss of contact when you felt Negan remove his fingers from your heat.

“Taste yourself!” he ordered, and you looked up at him in shock.

His fingers were covered in blood. In your blood.

Your face grew hot under his scrutiny, and you opened your mouth for him tentatively. He pushed the first finger, then the second past your lips and you sucked both clean keeping your eyes fixed on his. The blood felt sticky and warm and coated the insides of your mouth like a creamy sauce. The metallic taste of it mixed with the lingering flavour of chocolate on your tongue, and you would have been lying if you had said it was unpleasant. The knowledge of tasting your blood was oddly bizarre and yet there was something titillating about the forbidden nature of it as well as the way your husband was making you do this.

Negan was eyeing you intently as if he could hear your inner thoughts and laughed darkly upon seeing you lick your bloodstained lips with illicit pleasure.

“Give me a taste, too,” he panted with hooded eyes and slammed his mouth down onto yours, lapping up the residual blood from your lips in a sloppy kiss. “Fucking delicious,” he purred under his breath and turned you around, shoving you up against the wall.

He trailed his finger down your spine from your neck to your lower back making you shiver despite the warmth of the water pouring over your body. The walls of the shower cabin were now misty from the steam that had accumulated inside the bathroom. Not being able to wait any longer, he finally entered you from behind with a sharp thrust. He kept his word and dictated a fast rhythm right away, not giving you time to adjust to him. While you were more sensitive than unusual, the slight discomfort was soon replaced by the sheer pleasure of him hitting your G-spot with the tip of his dick. He grabbed your hips with one hand and lowered the other to your clit, rubbing tiny circles on it with his fingers.

"Do you like this, little one?” he rasped in a seductive tone.

You cried out, not being able to form a coherent reply, but this wasn’t enough for Negan. He grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled your body up against his chest roughly. Your scalp prickled uncomfortably and you tried in vain to squirm away from him.

“I asked you a question, little one. Do you like this?” he barked at you.

“Yes, Daddy, please fuck me harder!” you heard yourself beg in a pathetic voice.

However, Negan did the complete opposite and slid out halfway, keeping only the tip of his throbbing cock inside you.

“I think not, baby girl. You were a very bad girl earlier and need to be punished.”

You leaned your head back on his shoulder and tried to push yourself back on his cock but were stopped by a sharp slap on your ass. Mewling in pain you tried to wiggle away from his grasp but to no avail, your hands were cuffed, and he was holding you tightly against him.

“Ten counts, little one. This is your punishment. Stay still, or I will double it!” he snarled at you, and you knew resistance was futile. You had no choice but to accept your punishment. Closing your eyes, you gave him a quick nod in defeat and acceptance of your fate.

You screamed as he swatted your asscheeks, one after the other with an open hand, his cock still buried halfway inside your pussy. He spanked you hard and mercilessly, pausing after each hit until the tremors in your body subsided and your pitiful sobs faded to quiet whimpers. While his assault on your flesh was painful, you couldn’t ignore the tingling growing in your core. Your ass felt sore and the water prickled against your hot skin. Once Negan was finished, he rubbed your tender backside a few times with his palm to soothe the pain.

“Fucking hell, baby girl,” he gave a quick whistle of admiration at his handiwork. “There isn’t a hotter sight than my handprint on your ass. I should spank you more often.”

A silent cry escaped your lips as you felt him plunge into you in one long, slick thrust, his entire length buried to the hilt. He picked up the speed and started pounding you with no mercy, his balls slapping against your pussy.

“Fuck, baby girl. You are so wet for me and if you saw how my cock looks like now going in and out of your pussy, coated in your blood. It's a fucking vampire dick! Lucille would be so goddamn jealous right now...the vampire bat that she is."

His dirty words were pushing you further towards the edge and your body stiffened in anticipation. Even through the fog of lust you remembered that you were not allowed to cum. You gritted your teeth trying to regain control over your overstimulated senses, but your body was on fire, every fibre in your body craving release.

“Don’t you dare to cum!” Negan snarled at you and smacked your ass hard in warning upon feeling your pussy clamp down on in his dick.

His movements became deeper and more urgent, his fingertips digging into your hips painfully.

“Where do you want me to cum, baby girl? In your pussy? On your ass?” His voice was hoarse and uneven, betraying his composure.

“No, Daddy. In my mouth, please,” you pleaded shamelessly.

“Your wish is my command, little one. Get on your knees,” he husked in your ear and pulled out of your pussy.

You lowered yourself in front of him, the hard floor of the shower pressing against your knees, and opened your mouth for him, sticking out your tongue with a wanton look. Negan palmed his dick, still coated with your cum and blood, and started pumping it furiously. The sound of slapping skin filled the tight space of the shower. After a few hard strokes, he grabbed your hair to angle your head and began shooting streams of hot, thick cum in your mouth and on your chin, painting your tongue white with his release. Shouting a string of curses under his breath, he continued to stroke himself milking the last drops of cum from his cock until he was utterly spent and then smeared it on your lips with the tip languidly.

You watched him in awe, the sight of him losing control in front of your eyes and marking you with his seed making you feel wanted and powerful. You swallowed the load of cum in your mouth hungrily and licked off the drops from your lips and around your mouth before letting the water from the shower wash away the rest of the sticky residue from your face. Sucking his softening dick into your mouth, you licked every drop of your combined juices and blood from him, keeping your gaze on his flushed face. He stared down at you, his pupils blown with desire, caressing your cheek with his thumb softly.

“Such a good girl cleaning up Daddy’s dick so nicely.”

You looked up at him submissively, his praise and sated expression filling your body with a spark of pride and despite your denied orgasm, a sense of utter satisfaction.

An hour later both of you were lying in your bed, tucked under the soft, warm blanket. Negan picked out a little heart-shaped piece from the box of chocolate lying on his stomach and fed it to you as you drew tiny circles on his chest with your pinky.

“Hmmm...this is heavenly. There is nothing better than chocolate,” you moaned out chewing happily on the sweet dessert.

“I have to correct you on that one, baby girl. There is one thing that’s even better than chocolate,” Negan hummed against your ear and popped a small dark chocolate ball into his mouth.

His voice was even lower than usual, the many orders he roared at you earlier making his voice raspy and yet sweet as molasses to your ears.

“Okay, you’re right. Chocolate and sex. It’s a good combination.”

“With a few drops of blood added to it,” Negan grinned thickly.

“As you wish, my Bloody Valentine!” you teased with a wink. “Who knew you could develop an appetite for blood?”

“Only for your blood, baby. Only for your blood,” Negan cooed seductively and placed a chaste kiss on your lips.

[laceyeb]

DWTS Season 24 Finale Recap

Alas, my last recap of what turned out to be a glorious season in those last like 45 seconds there. 

Here’s my random ramblings (just like Sharna!) throughout this finale night. And this is a tumblr only version of my usual recap and in place of liveblogging so it’s gonna be a bit more entertaining. It’s also terribly confusing without any context, but just go with it... 

I’m nervous but I’m also not that nervous. Like I didn’t really get nervous until right now when I’m finally starting the show. I haven’t been spending all day stressing out like I normally do. I think it’s because I’m significantly less invested than I was last time. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I’m invested and I certainly want Rashad and Emma to win, but this isn’t quite on the level of how badly I wanted James and Sharna to win. And I’ll be more okay with Normani and Val winning than I was with Laurie and Val winning. I do seriously adore Normani and I think she deserves it. But Rashad and Emma have the connection and the growth and the beautiful partnership that I love to see.

Erin looks so pretty! Ahh!

Oh hey Alan.

Is it as weird to everyone else to see the judges like outside in the elements. Why aren’t they at their table?! It’s oddly unsettling!

So is this beginning just going to be a walk through their journeys? That will do nothing to calm my growing nerves!

David and Lindsay seriously have the sweetest relationship. One of my favorites I’ve ever seen in 24 seasons. Like TPTB couldn’t have known these two would build the relationship they have and it’s just been amazing to watch. I didn’t know him before he was on here and now I’m in love.

Simone’s jive outfit might be my favorite of hers all season.

Watching Rashad and Emma’s journey and I’m remembering the emotional last rehearsal they do for their fusion dance that somehow I always forget they do every time and I’m not at all ready for it with these two.

“I know this wouldn’t be the same with somebody else.”

Again. I cry.

Literally ONE HUNDRED more hours rehearsing than the other two couples. COME ON.

I was really looking forward to this girls’ number and it did not disappoint at all. But like was there anyone besides Sharna out there because I didn’t notice. SHARNA I’VE MISSED YOU.

Heeeey Alan.

I love Normani and I LOVE that she came in as a huge fan of the show. Those are my favorites.

All these other guys can go. I just need Alan. And Keo can stay too. And Gleb I guess.

“These are trying times. Sorry about that. I’m beside myself.” - Erin after the guys’ dance. She’s my favorite ever.

Alright. Now we’re finally getting into it. This is so fun with everyone all there together!

Oh hey Nick! I forgot about you and how much I liked you!

Oh wait. Now we have to recap last night. I already watched it! Can we move on?!

Dude! I just picked up my phone and opened up instagram without thinking! Closed that real quick! That was a close one!

It would have been nice if Bonner was this halfway decent from the very beginning. Geez. I tried not to see the awkward tension between them because I’ve just tried to ignore all this, but… well… it was hard to miss.

Erin says every night should be country night and I agree.

This season has been so weird and unsettling and oddly long and I had totally forgotten about Alan dancing with Heather so here’s another moment I say ALAN FOR PRO.

The Nick and Maks bromance is everything. I hope everyone now loves Nick as much as I always have.

I appreciated David and Lindsay’s Magic Mike dance so much more tonight than the first time around.

BLOOPER TIME. This stuff always reminds me why Erin is the best ever.

Holy shit. I know absolutely nothing of Charo except the hot mess she was on this show, so that was exceptionally amazing and unexpected! And Keo and Witney’s dance was EVERYTHING!

Oh man. The nerves are kicking in again.

I don’t want them to redo their favorite dances. I NEED FUSION DANCES!!!

Ugh. I’m getting impatient now.

We get a little preview of them getting ready for their fusion dances and CAN EMMA STOP CRYING PLEASE?! “I don’t know if I’ll get this again.” Yes. Exactly. That’s it. That’s what’s special about them. Oh geez. I’m all stressed out. For me this whole show is all about the partnership. Not the best dancer or performer or most improved or most entertaining or anything else like that. It’s all about finding the couple that builds a relationship, that becomes a team, that makes me fall in love with them, and that creates this absolutely unbreakable bond. And that is Rashad and Emma this season. That’s why I love them.

Are there always such excessive nonsense random singers and performers that I just block out after the season is over? I was about to mute One Republic, but then I saw Gleb and Sharna stroll in like they owned the place so then I had to watch!

I loved Normani and Val’s, um… construction worker dance the first time around if I remember correctly. (I might remember a lack of salsa content, but I don’t care about that anymore.) I couldn’t handle the contrast between Len just happily clapping along in the corner and Bruno stripping the whole time.

I’ve been waiting an hour and a half for Lady Antebellum. Finally. Geez. I also appreciate any chance to see Hayley because I just love watching her dance.

This alarmingly random Mr. T segment is one of the weirder things I’ve seen on this show and that’s saying something! But I think I loved it!

Hard pass on Nicole Scherzinger. Took me a second to think back and figure out who Tom was talking about when he said “season 10 champion” and then it all came flooding back. That was Erin’s season and one of my favorites, but I was no Nicole fan at all. It’s been 14 seasons and that hasn’t been enough time…

I like Normani as much as the next guy, but this is the first time this season I’ve been hearing talk of her being the best ever (Val said something like that and now Peta) and that threw me because wouldn’t someone have said that already if that was the case? Like maybe way back in week 6 or something. (You feel me on that?) And she’s very good obviously, but best ever? Calm down a little bit there.

Gotta say I’m really appreciating all the Sharna I’m getting in all the pro numbers. Silver lining.

David and Lindsay - 9,9,9,9 - foxtrot/salsa

They are just the absolute sweetest. What a nice dance for them to finish on. They’re gonna have to not cry now because then I’ll cry. I think it’s safe to assume they’re not going to win (though stranger things have happened) and that’s okay. I feel like the two of them have won something so much more special in the friendship they have built. The two of them have bonded more than most on this show and I just adore everything about the two of them together and each of them individually.

Normani and Val - 10,10,10,10 - Argentine tango/foxtrot

Here’s the thing. I’ve loved her for a while now. She grew on me and now I just adore her because she’s so amazing. But right now is the first time I’ve really understood and seen the connection and the relationship between them. And it felt more out of place tonight because the relationships between the other two couples are almost incomparably strong and have been all season. “When did you realize there was real chemistry here? This is an amazing partnership,” says Tom. But like this is the first time we’re talking about this all season unless I missed something? (I think my nerves are making me a little salty right now.) But anyways, the dance was perfect. Flawless. Loved it.

Rashad and Emma - 10,9,10,10 - cha cha/tango

I just put all 10s down before I saw the scores because I assume that’s right. Actually I could have predicted the scores for all 3 couples here, but that’s just because these fusions, though fun, have gotten rather predictable. (Well, Len really screwed with that, didn’t he?) My love for them is strong and no secret. Their partnership and their connection and their bond is without a doubt one of the best we’ve ever seen. Top 5 easy. Honestly, probably second only behind James and Sharna for me. And I’ve been waiting for this moment with them looking back on their journey together because I could use a good cry. “I don’t know if I’ll get this again, but I’m so grateful it happened.” Crying. That’s so intense and emotional when you think about it because that’s exactly right. Just thinking about Emma’s own journey she’s had throughout her seasons and what she’s got this season is just incredible. And now Emma’s crying again or probably just still crying. I think she’s been crying for like 3 weeks. RASHAD ON TOUR OH THANK GOD. “He really is everything.” Ugh. Just like with David and Lindsay, they have obviously won something so much more than a trophy. Emma just said it. Some things are bigger than this show. On season 15, Kelly Monaco once said (week 4 after their contemporary dance because I would know that), “This show has absolutely nothing to do with dancing,” and I’ll always remember that because it’s one of my favorite things anyone has ever expressed in 24 seasons and it’s exactly how I feel about Rashad and Emma. The friendship they have now is just so much more important than anything else. Like they don’t need to win because they’ve got each other in their lives now. But if they could go ahead and win in TWELVE MINUTES I’d be okay with that. Oh right... They danced. It was perfect. (Can we also talk about what a good job I’ve done not shipping them because honestly if you know me at all I probably deserve an award for my self restraint.)

And a commercial break. Oh boy. Here it comes.

This live performance “journey down memory lane” thing gets me every time. Just look at the way they’re standing there together holding each other. Good grief. More tears. Emma’s just standing there with tears streaming down her face and I honestly can’t handle this any longer.

Oh shit. Here we go.

H O L Y  C R A P

OH MY GOD. I’m literally shaking. I cannot believe that just happened. I literally think I’m dreaming. This can’t be real. I’m honestly in shock. What happened? I didn’t imagine that? That really happened??? Actually… You know what? I don’t even care. This is about to be the longest commercial break of my life.

YEEESSSSSSAIUILUAWEIUFBUHOI

I gotta be honest you guys. I didn’t think this was going to happen. I was ready for yet another season (4 in a row) of “disappointed, but not surprised.” My mom checked who won at 8 our time and texted me and told me to stay off facebook. I knew that obviously, but that was what convinced me that it would end in disappointment. She’s “friends” with Maks on facebook and tells me about the stuff he posts all the time, so I thought it was a post from Maks about the big win. I did myself the favor of not getting my hopes up this time and I think that made this victory all the more satisfying. Obviously this turned out 100% how I wanted it, but I didn’t expect it. I really didn’t. I didn’t want to say anything before because I wanted to stay positive, but I expected second place and I was okay with it because they have each other and their friendship.

BUT HOLY SHIT AM I HAPPY THEY WON

Honestly it’s about damn time my favorites won. I’ve been waiting for this moment since the long ago days of season 18 and I’m just so so so happy.

[angelavengedinspo-blog]

“What did Isabelle want?” Jace asked. Alec hesitated. “Isabelle says the Queen of the Seelie Court has requested an audience with us.” “Sure,” said Magnus. “And Madonna wants me as a backup dancer on her next world tour.” Alec looked puzzled. “Who’s Madonna?” “Who’s the Queen of the Seelie Court?” said Clary. “She is the Queen of Faerie,” said Magnus. “Well, the local one, anyway.” Jace put his head in his hands. “Tell Isabelle no.” “But she thinks it’s a good idea,” Alec protested. “Then tell her no twice.” Alec frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?” “Oh, just that some of Isabelle’s ideas are world-beaters and some are total disasters. Remember that idea she had about using abandoned subway tunnels to get around under the city? Talk about giant rats—” “Let’s not,” said Simon. “I’d rather not talk about rats at all, in fact.” “This is different,” said Alec. “She wants us to go to the Seelie Court.” “You’re right, this is different,” said Jace. “This is her worst idea ever.” “She knows a knight in the Court,” said Alec. “He told her that the Seelie Queen is interested in meeting with us. Isabelle overheard my conversation with our mother—and she thought if we could explain our theory about Valentine and the Soul-Sword to the Queen, the Seelie Court would side with us, maybe even ally with us against Valentine.” “Is it safe to go there?” Clary asked. “Of course it’s not safe,” Jace said, as if she’d asked the stupidest question he’d ever heard. She shot a glare at him. “I don’t know anything about the Seelie Court. Vampires and werewolves I get. There are enough movies about them. But faeries are little-kid stuff. I dressed up as a faerie for Halloween when I was eight. My mom made me a hat shaped like a buttercup.” “I remember that.” Simon had leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. “I was a Transformer. Actually, I was a Decepticon.” “Can we get back to the point?” Magnus asked. “Fine,” Alec said. “Isabelle thinks—and I agree—that it’s not a good idea to ignore the Fair Folk. If they want to talk, what harm can it do? Besides, if the Seelie Court were on our side, the Clave would have to listen to what we have to say.”

-------------------------------------

“Isabelle can meet you in the park by Turtle Pond,” said Alec. “She knows the secret entrance to the Court. She’ll be waiting.”

-------------------------------------

There was a small wooden gazebo built out over the water; Isabelle was sitting in it, staring out across the lake. She looked like a princess in a fairy tale, waiting at the top of her tower for someone to ride up and rescue her. Not that traditional princess behavior was like Isabelle at all. Isabelle with her whip and boots and knives would chop anyone who tried to pen her up in a tower into pieces, build a bridge out of the remains, and walk carelessly to freedom, her hair looking fabulous the entire time. This made Isabelle a hard person to like, though Clary was trying. “Izzy,” said Jace, as they neared the pond, and she jumped up and spun around. Her smile was dazzling. “Jace!” She flew at him and hugged him. Now that was the way sisters were supposed to act, Clary thought. Not all stiff and weird and peculiar, but happy and loving. Watching Jace hug Isabelle, she tried to school her features into a happy and loving expression.”

[......]

Isabelle drifted over, Jace a pace behind her. She was wearing a long black dress with boots and an even longer cutaway coat of soft green velvet, the color of moss. “I can’t believe you did it!” she exclaimed. “How did you get Magnus to let Jace leave?” “Traded him for Alec,” Clary said. Isabelle looked mildly alarmed. “Not permanently?” “No,” said Jace. “Just for a few hours. Unless I don’t come back,” he added thoughtfully. “In which case, maybe he does get to keep Alec. Think of it as a lease with an option to buy.” Isabelle looked dubious. “Mom and Dad won’t be pleased if they find out.”

[.....]

“The faerie courts are dangerous,” cut in Isabelle. “Even your skill with the bow won’t help you. It’s not that kind of danger.”

[...]

“Where do we go?” Clary asked. “Where’s the door?” Isabelle’s smile was like a whispered secret. “Follow me.” She moved down to the edge of the water, her boots leaving deep impressions in the wet mud. Clary followed, glad she was wearing jeans and not a skirt as Isabelle hiked her coat and dress up over her knees, leaving her slim white legs bare above her boots. Her skin was covered in Marks like licks of black fire. Simon, behind her, swore as he slipped in the mud; Jace moved automatically to steady him as they all turned. Simon jerked his arm back. “I don’t need your help.” “Stop it.” Isabelle tapped a booted foot in the shallow water at the lake’s edge. “Both of you. In fact, all three of you. If we don’t stick together in the Seelie Court, we’re dead.” “But I haven’t—,” Clary started. “Maybe you haven’t, but the way you let those two act . . .” Isabelle indicated the boys with a disdainful wave of her hand. “I can’t tell them what to do!” “Why not?” the other girl demanded. “Honestly, Clary, if you don’t start utilizing a bit of your natural feminine superiority, I just don’t know what I’ll do with you.” She turned toward the pond, then spun around again. “And lest I forget,” she added sternly, “for the love of the Angel, don’t eat or drink anything while we’re underground, any of you. Okay?” “Underground?” said Simon worriedly. “Nobody said anything about underground.” Isabelle threw up her hands and splashed out into the pond. Her green velvet coat swirled out around her like an enormous lily pad. “Come on. We only have until the moon moves.”

[/////]

He stood up with a frown, just as Isabelle dropped out of the heavens, landing gracefully on her feet. Water ran from her long, streaming hair and weighed down her heavy velvet coat, but she barely seemed to notice. “Oooh, that was fun.” “That does it,” said Jace. “I’m going to get you a dictionary for Christmas this year.” “Why?” Isabelle said. “So you can look up ‘fun.’ I’m not sure you know what it means.” Isabelle pulled the long heavy mass of her wet hair forward and wrung it out as if it were wet washing. “You’re raining on my parade.” “It’s a pretty wet parade already, if you hadn’t noticed.” Jace glanced around. “Now what? Which way do we go?” “Neither way,” said Isabelle. “We wait here, and they come and get us.” Clary was not impressed by this suggestion. “How do they know we’re here? Is there a doorbell we have to ring or something?” “The Court knows all that happens in their lands. Our presence won’t go unnoticed.” Simon looked at her with suspicion. “And how do you know so much about faeries and the Seelie Court, anyway?” Isabelle, to everyone’s surprise, blushed. A moment later the curtain of vines was drawn aside and a faerie stepped through it, shaking back his long hair. Clary had seen some of the fey before at Magnus’s party and had been struck by both their cold beauty and a certain wild unearthliness they possessed even when they were dancing and drinking. This faerie was no exception: His hair fell in blue-black sheets around a cool, sharp, lovely face; his eyes were green as vines or moss and there was the shape of a leaf, either a birthmark or tattoo, across one of his cheekbones. He wore an armor of a silvery brown like the bark of trees in winter, and when he moved, the armor flashed a multitude of colors: peat black, moss green, ash gray, sky blue. Isabelle gave a cry and jumped into his arms. “Meliorn!” “Ah,” said Simon, quietly and not without amusement, “so that’s how she knows.” The faerie—Meliorn—looked down at her gravely, then detached her and set her gently aside. “This is not a time for affection,” he said. “The Queen of the Seelie Court has requested an audience with the three Nephilim among you. Will you come?”

[///]

“Are you allowed to date faeries?” Clary asked finally. “Would your—would the Lightwoods be cool with Isabelle and whatshisname—” “Meliorn,” put in Simon. “—Meliorn going out?” “I’m not sure they’re going out,” Jace said, weighting the last two words with a heavy irony. “I’d guess they mostly stay in. Or in this case, under.” “I don’t disapprove exactly,” said Jace. “The faeries are known to dally with the occasional mortal, but they always end in abandoning them, usually the worse for wear.” His words sent a shiver down Clary’s spine. At that moment Isabelle laughed, and Clary could see now why Jace had dropped his voice, because the stone walls threw Isabelle’s voice back to them amplified and echoing so that Isabelle’s laughter seemed to bounce off the walls. “You’re so funny!” She tripped as the heel of her boot caught between two stones, and Meliorn caught and righted her without changing expression. “I do not understand how you humans can walk in shoes that are that tall.” “It’s my motto,” said Isabelle, with a sultry smile. “‘Nothing less than seven inches.’” Meliorn gazed at her stonily. “I’m talking about my heels,” she said. “It’s a pun. You know? A play on—” “Come,” the faerie knight said. “The Queen will be growing impatient.” He headed down the corridor without giving Isabelle a second glance. “I forgot,” Isabelle muttered as the rest of them caught up to her. “Faeries have no sense of humor.”

-----------------------------

“Come on.” Jace pushed her and she stumbled forward. When she regained her balance, she looked around anxiously for Simon. He was up ahead and she saw that Isabelle had a firm grip on him. This once, she didn’t mind. She doubted Simon would have made it through the room on his own. Skirting the circle of dancers, they made their way to the far end of the room and through a parted curtain of blue silk. It was a relief to be out of the room and into another corridor, this one carved from a glossy brown material like the outside of a nut. Isabelle let go of Simon and he stopped walking immediately; when Clary caught up to him, she saw that this was because Isabelle had tied her scarf across his eyes. He was fiddling with the knot when Clary reached him. “Let me get it,” she said, and he went still while she untied him and handed the scarf back to Isabelle with a nod of thanks.

----------------------------

“Well, I don’t know about you, Simon,” said Isabelle, her voice edged. “But I’d like to get Clary out of here.” “Like you’d kiss Alec,” Simon said, “just because the Queen of the Seelie Court asked you to?” “Sure I would.” Isabelle sounded annoyed. “If the other option was being stuck in the Seelie Court forever? Who cares, anyway? It’s just a kiss.”

-------------------------

He turned away after they’d splashed out of the pond, without even a good-bye for Isabelle, and disappeared back into the wavering reflection of the moon. Isabelle watched him go with a scowl. “He is so broken up with.”