#and that was the highlight of my day because I had noone waiting for me at home

[spottys-rathole]

Anyways, my brother made me binge watch the first season of The Office and everyone kept telling me this was a sitcom, yet nobody told me this was actually a horror series (im joking, yes it's a funny haha series) (but if you have ever worked in this exact kind of life-sucking job in your life. Then you know. And this is my own personal hell)

[pjisskullourful]

𝘁𝗿𝗶𝗽𝗹𝗲 𝘀𝗵𝗼𝘁

☕ Ethan × Victoria × reader

NSFW🔥 kinky action to the power of 3!

° Ethan Torchio/Victoria De Angelis/female reader insert

° Ethan has been your favourite café customer for ages, you’re secretly interested in him. one day he brings bestie Victoria in with him & her forwardness brings out more from your friendship

wordcount:::    9,117

° anon request:  i love the way you write smut 😩 and to be honest, it always turns me on. can i ask something, would you write victoria x reader x ethan? 🙃 ° HAPPY PRIDE🏳️‍🌈noone in this fic is heterosexual ° thankyou to everyone who voted for this to be brought out of the vault 💋

° [ITA]:  molto bene: very good

“...and some caramel sauce, but can you make sure that gets drizzled on the inside of the cup please?”

You paused from hitting the button on the touchscreen to add this ingredient to the order and you looked up at the blonde woman standing on the other side of the counter. She visibly cringed, her pretty face twisting into a grimace and it looked like she wanted to walk away. “I know, it’s so extra. But it’s not for me, it’s for my friend and he is-...”

“Wait, is it Ethan?” You asked, smiling.

“Yeah, but how did you know that? I swear I hadn’t said his name yet…”

You laughed, shrugging this off. “He lives next door, we see him literally every day, sometimes multiple times a day. He’s so nice and you always remember the nice ones and their orders.” 

You were grinning as you checked over the requested drink, it looked exactly as it should - a white mocha with a triple shot of espresso (there wasn’t any button on the computer to indicate his preference for two shots to go on the top with the last one separated to the bottom of the cup, but you had made the specific drink so many times that it would be impossible to forget), made with almond milk, served extra hot and with the caramel drizzle on the inside of the cup, not just added to the top of the drink. You didn’t divulge to his friend that you had this order memorised because, ever since the first second you had seen him walking into the café, you had felt a deep need to impress him. She didn’t need to know that you always remembered serving him because he was the highlight of each day.

“And what can I get for you, hun?”

“Just a caffe latte.”

You had this added to the order with one tap of your finger. “What name can I put that under?”

“Victoria.”

You grabbed a second coffee cup sleeve, scribbling her name down as you wondered why you hadn’t seen her in here before. In the six months that Ethan had been living in the apartment building directly next to the coffee shop, he had never been accompanied by anyone during his extremely regular visits. You were certain that you would have remembered Victoria, she was effortlessly stylish in her red flannel shirt, smokey black and grey pigments applied around her eyes to bring out their natural blue all the more.

“I’ll get started on those for you right now.”

Before you could stop yourself, you were dotting the I’s in her name with two love hearts - a completely unnecessary flair that you didn’t typically add to a customer's cup. 

Some of the other baristas had to apply extra focus when they were making Ethan’s drink, the method not coming as naturally to them as other standard orders. But it had become automatic to you, just like fixing the locks into place on the back door when you were the last to leave at night.

And so your mind wandered, not too far - over to where Victoria was standing, looking at the display shelves of prepackaged gift boxes. You instantly wanted to know more about her, your eyes darting up whenever possible, greedily drinking in the details of her outfit and all of the antique-style jewellery she wore. Who was she thinking of as she considered the different selections of boxes? Surely, a partner, there was no chance of someone as attractive as her being single. She would be sharing those chocolates with a boyfriend, or burning the artisan scented candles in anticipation of a visit from her girlfriend.

“Victoria?” You called out and she looked up, instantly showing you a wide smile.

She reached out for the two drinks. “Thanks. I was gonna ask if you wanted me to say hi or anything to Ethan, but I feel like this lovely drawing says it all…” She said of the quick cartoon cock you had drawn.

You felt your cheeks heating. “Yeah, don’t worry- he’ll know what it means.”

“Awesome. See ya later.”

You spent too long watching her leave, your eyes taking in the sight of her tight black jeans, going down to the rainbow shoelaces that decorated her Doc Martens. By the time you came back to Earth, the next customer at the front of the line was looking at you impatiently, arms folded over their chest.

“Hi, what can I get ya?”

--- --- ---

Your response from Ethan came in the form of a direct message via Instagram (you didn’t have his phone number, you hadn’t had the courage to ask for it and he hadn’t offered it). It wasn’t the first message you had received from him - the two of you shared memes back-and-forth or he would tell you he was reminded of you when out at a bar and a Backstreet Boys song came on (your ultimate guilty pleasure, he had learnt that when you were in charge, you would play the boy band over the café speakers all day long). There were times when you thought he was flirting with you, never certain if you were reading between the lines to find what you wanted.

This message could not be slipped into that classification, his intentions of having a purely platonic joke with you were clear.

There’s a dick drawn on my cup.

You were standing by yourself, enjoying your lunch-break cigarette in the shady area beside the coffee shop. You were laughing as you started to type your response.

New phone. Who dis?

I'm going to go FULL Karen next time I'm in there. He threatened. Tell your manager to start preparing now.

Karen Torchio, I am so terrified.

--- --- ---

"M'lady…"

You looked up from wiping a table clean, finding Ethan approaching you. "M'Ethan." You responded in your typical fashion, even crossing one ankle over the other to bob down into a curtsey. 

It wasn’t unusual for him to pop into the coffee shop later in the day - looking for a five pm caffeine fix because he kept hours that would only seem regular to a vampire. He would need a kick to get him ready for a gig or rehearsal with the band.

More than once, one afternoon coffee had stretched out with the two of you chatting, him keeping you company through the mundane tasks of closing the café. Before you knew it, the floors would be mopped and all of the machines were cleaned without you having a chance to become bored by the tedious activity. He would always help you carry the trash out, never complaining about the stench. He would walk you to the bus stop, waiting with you under the dim street light and waving you off into the night. 

“Oh, hi again.” You said to Victoria. “Same as before?”

“Actually, can I get tea this time- peppermint?” She asked.

He made a face. “Ugh, you and your hot toothpaste water.”

“While you keep making fun of me over this, we’ll see who gets to make-out with more girls- coffee-and-ashtray-mouth Torchio, or fresh-and-minty De Angelis.”

“I’ve never had any complaints.” He said, pulling up a chair to one of the available tables.

You returned back to behind the counter, typing the order of one peppermint tea and one very specific mocha into the till. The peak hours of the coffee shop were well and truly over for the day - there were only two other tables occupied. It was time to let some of the tension roll off of your shoulders, time to start thinking about what you would make yourself for dinner. There would be no more noisy and crowded moments, the most you expected were some school kids ordering their favourite sugar-filled drinks on their way home.

You could quickly prepare the order of the two friends, carefully carrying the full mugs over to their table. You set the tea down first, then the coffee in front of Ethan. “No dicks this time, Karen- does that make ya happy?”

He took an exaggerated pause, playing at needing time to think this over. “It’s an improvement, but I’m not gonna delete my negative Facebook review, not yet.”

“Hey, can I ask you a question?” Victoria asked, blinking up at you curiously and you saw him raise a hand, half-covering his face. “It’s kind of personal.”

“Vic…” He sighed heavily. “You can’t just ask her about this- she’s at work and you literally met her five seconds ago.”

“What?” She asked defensively and you looked between the two of them, your mind racing as you saw him squirm in a way you weren’t used to. “I said: can I ask, do you see that distinction? It’s not like I just came right out and said it, she doesn’t have to answer, that’s why I phrased it as a request, not a demand.” She held a finger up, tapping it in midair to emphasise each syllable of the next word. “Dis-tinc-tion.”

You tucked your hands into the back pockets of your jeans, feeling uncertain of what you were about to walk into. “Right, do you wanna just ask it?”

She gave him one last smug look before looking up at you, batting her eyelashes a little. “Are you gay?” Now the rest of his face disappeared behind his other hand. 

You nodded, even as your cheeks filled with a natural and bright blush. This wasn’t the kind of conversation you usually had with a customer and you certainly hadn’t shared this revelation with Ethan before. It was clear this was something the two of them had discussed, but you could only wonder for how long or why it would appeal to them as anything of interest.

“Yeah, well, if you wanna get specific or whatever- bisexual.”

She grinned, raising her eyebrows as she looked back at him. “I told you. You need to stop questioning my gaydar.”

“How did you know, am I flaming back there without even realising?” You asked.

She giggled, the way that she was so pleased with herself was infectious. “No, no, nothing like that. But when I was in here before, there was a Tegan and Sara song playing and, whether on purpose or not, you were singing along, every single word.”

“Is that the same as gaydar?” He asked.

She dismissed this with a quick flick of her hand. “Irregardless, I was correct.” She gave you a subtle wink. “Thanks babe.”

You stepped back, prepared to walk away and at least pretend to be a productive employee. But you paused. “You are too, right? I mean, you’ve got the rainbow laces and the flannel, and you knew the song well enough to know it was Tegan and Sara…”

“Okay, well now I really have to get your phone number. Finally, someone who can match my gaydar.” She said, a look of awe on her face.    

You hesitated, for some reason, your eyes going to Ethan. You were used to women being far more upfront and bold with their advances, but this was by far the most confidently anyone had ever asked for your number. It was so cocky that you assumed this must be a joke - no one was this level of self-assured.

But she had grabbed a napkin out of the dispenser and was very purposefully pushing it across the table, to where you were standing. 

“Sheesh, don’t let Karen over here see me handing my phone number out to customers.” You said, attempting a joke to remove the awkward feeling that was currently stuck in the back of your throat. “He might update his review to include a bit about how this is a family café, not some sort of lesbian hook-up zone.”

“Anywhere can be a lesbian hook-up zone so long as you’ve got courage.” She said.

“Oh molto bene.” He said, the sarcasm thick. “Tell me, are there still tickets available for your TED Talk?”

She poked her tongue out at him. She picked up the napkin as soon as you were finished writing, folding it and tucking it into her pocket immediately. “Maybe if you lost the attitude, I would put you on my guest list.”

"Okay, holler if you need anything else."

Neither of them opposed you leaving and you got back to work - close to entirely distracted at this point. You couldn't keep yourself from glancing in their direction, especially when you heard Victoria's loud laugh.

More than once, you looked across in time to find Ethan staring at you while she was talking. Was it too presumptuous, too narcissistic to think they were talking about you?

You felt shy under his gaze and you couldn't properly recognise him in this moment. You weren't sure how to act while there was so much hanging in the space between the two of you.

You endeavoured to keep your distance (this seemed like the best option until you could remember how to treat him as your friend again). 

After about an hour, your last remaining co-worker was leaving and all of the other customers had left. You were completely alone with Victoria and Ethan.

“More toothpaste water?” You asked, approaching the table where they showed no signs of readying themselves for an exit.

“No, thanks.”

“Do you want us to clear out so you can clean in peace?” He asked.

“No, it’s fine, you can stay.” You said, collecting their empty cups. “So, what are you two up to tonight- some combination of raid, pillage, plunder and otherwise pilfer your guts out?”

“No, but that’s what we should do.” She answered excitedly.

“There’s a bar down the road that allegedly makes the best lychee cocktails in the whole world and our friend just won’t shut up about it and how much we need to try it- so, that was what we were planning to do, for a start, at least.”

You forgot about needing to wash the mugs, instead energetically jumping on to his train of thought. “No, they really are the best, though. It’s this new bartender they’ve hired. And on Fridays they do this deal where you can get a whole pitcher so fuckin’ cheap.”

“It’s Friday today…” He said.

“You should come with us.” She said, smiling up at you. “Unless you have other plans.”

“Oh, but I do.” You said. “I’ve got some leftover soup waiting for me in the refrigerator and then I get to do about a million loads of laundry.”

“Uh-huh, but after that?” He asked.

“I’d love to.”

— — —

“Would you stop fuckin’ looking at me like that?” You burst out.

Ethan finished lighting the cigarette that was already between your lips, the expression on his face reminding you of a puppy. You knew you should have felt bad for this, but the three cocktails you had consumed were making you feel bolder than usual.

Spirits had been high since the three of you had met up again at the familiar bar. You felt good in the outfit you had selected and he was being very generous in how many cigarettes from his pack he was sharing with you. Victoria was so easy to talk and joke with - it was as if you had already known her for ages, with the conversation getting louder as more of the second pitcher of the fruity cocktail was consumed.

But there was clearly something on his mind - regularly, he was the first person to stop laughing at any jokes and when you looked in his direction, more than once, you had been struck by how serious his expression was. He always looked serious, his default expression was that of someone on the verge of making a sombre life decision.

It was more than that tonight and you could feel that it had the potential to kill your mood. Something was keeping him preoccupied and it worried you.

“Like what?”

Victoria had disappeared in search of the ladies room, so it was just you and he tucked away in the corner of the smokers area. This seemed like the best time to confront him and give him a chance to get whatever was bothering him off of his chest.

“Like you’re over there trying to divide two-hundred and thirty-two by thirteen and you wanna ask me for help, but you don’t know if you should, or something.”

He laughed at that, the creases of concern leaving his forehead. “That is very specific.” He lit a cigarette for himself. “What makes you think that I don’t know how to solve that equation? Do you think that just because this is such a pretty face that I’ve got nothin’ going on in here?” He tapped his right temple.

“You’re dodging my question.” You said humorlessly.

He smiled as he took a drag of his cigarette. "I know and I'm doing a great job of it."

You scowled and got up from your stool, taking the step over to where he was sitting. You swatted at his shoulder a few times. "Stop it. I want you to talk to me." You continued to play-slap him, your wrists limp and flailing. "And if you don't, I'll be forced to give you the thrashing of a lifetime."

He furrowed his brow at you. "What? Hey, cut that out."

"Resistance is futile."

He gestured to the space behind you. "Your chair has just walked off."

"Huh?" You whipped around, finding that your barstool had been taken and relocated by another smoker. "Oh, sonofa…"

"Here, have mine. I'm not gonna make you stand in those heels, especially not after you were at work all day."

You put a determined hand to his chest, managing to stop him as he made as if to get up. "Actually, I have a better idea." Before he could question you any further, you placed yourself in his lap, crossing your legs and coming incredibly close to his face. "Okay, now resistance is futile. Talk."

He didn't start speaking immediately, instead he just looked at you, his surprise evident. You took a drag from your cigarette, wondering what it would take to get him to start talking.

You were aware that this level of closeness was beyond the familiarity the two of you had established. He didn't have anywhere to hide and neither did you, now you had to confront what was lying under the surface. You did your best to get comfortable, draping an arm over his shoulder, but there was a sense of restraint, caused by your uncertainty over how pleased he was with this.

"What's going on?"

"It's nothing." He said, his brow furrowed once more as he took a drag of his cigarette. "Well, it's kinda awkward." He rested his hand at the small of your back.

"I- well, it's- you and I have- and I…" He sighed, scratching at his head. "I didn't expect that Victoria would ask for your number so quickly." He shook his head to himself. "I shouldn't be surprised, she's always been quick on the draw, especially when it comes to picking up gorgeous women. But this- this might just be a…"

"Hang on, hang on for a second- you just called me gorgeous."

"I've told you that you're gorgeous before."

"Nope. I mean, you've complimented me before, sure and you always tell me that you like my hair when it's freshly coloured. But…" You smiled, taking a drag of your cigarette, watching him. "...you think I'm gorgeous?"

"Of course I do. Are you kidding?" He said. "I'm sorry that I hadn't told you- you're the kind of woman who deserves compliments all the time. But then, I worry about being creepy and putting you in an uncomfortable spot 'cause I'm a customer, so you have to be nice to me and-"

Sitting in this semi-private corner, your body close to his, a nice buzz from the alcohol - you felt bold enough to act, to step over the old boundary line. You put your hand to his cheek, getting his attention as he breathed out another cloud of smoke. As you leaned in closer, he watched, his brow furrowed.

You kissed him, finding no resistance. Instead he sought to deepen the kiss, lips parting until you were fully indulging in his taste. It was warm and wonderful, making your heart soar, reminding you of how a compliment from him could change your day, could make you forget about any annoying customers. Reminding you of how a smile from him made it worth getting out of bed and going to work.

You were smiling, holding your eyes shut even as the two of you parted. It didn't matter how loud the music was, you were close enough to hear the heavy, trembling exhale as it fell from his lips.

"I think you're gorgeous too." You bumped your nose against his, very tempted by the idea of kissing him again. "You and your ridiculous coffee order. You and your shy smile whenever you catch my eye over the room. You and your concerned little frown lines when I tell you that I've been having a bad day. You and your absolutely bizarre sense of humour, sending me the most niché memes known to man. I think it's all so gorgeous."

When you opened your eyes, you found your new favourite of his smiles on his face. It was small, but so honest, reaching his eyes without showing any teeth. It was the calm look of a man comfortable with the decision your lips had just made. It made you want to kiss him again, because you had the feeling that he would kiss you back.

"So, why didn't you tell me sooner?" He asked.

You giggled, a crinkle forming on the bridge of your nose as you took a drag from your cigarette. "I was trying to play it cool. How was I supposed to know you felt the same? Imagine how awkward it would be if I had tried to hit on you, and you could only say something like, you're a great girl. And then we would have to keep seeing one another, everytime you wanted a coffee, this awkward dark cloud over us. That's nightmare material."

His hand had started to caress your thigh. "Well I wouldn't want to be the fuel of anything but pleasant dreams for you. But it is still kinda awkward, 'cause I think Victoria likes you and…"

"I think I like her too." You said, eyes still lingering back down to his lips. "You don't think that you can be attracted to two people at once?"

"I can't say that it's ever happened to me. But that doesn't mean it's not possible." He was still rubbing your leg.

"You've never experimented with two people at the same time?"

"That's not what I said."

You were smirking to yourself, watching him and the way he worried over his bottom lip. "So, what are you saying?"

He was shaking his head a little as he took another drag from his cigarette, another thoughtful look on his face. "I don't- what do you think I'm saying?"

You laughed, his deflecting was cute, but you were keen to get to the point. The two of you had been dancing around this for far too long and you were in a different setting, now you could be different versions of the people who saw each other almost daily. "Well, I- uh…" You cleared your throat, feeling how hot your cheeks were. "I'm not sure how you pronounce it, or anything. But…" His hand was so warm and firm on your leg, taking full advantage of the short dress you were wearing. "I believe it’s ménage à trois, right?"

"Right." He said, before laughing again and you joined him, marveling at how far you had progressed from what was typical. This conversation would have seemed ridiculous, out of place, only hours before. But somehow the two of you were navigating into this new territory together.

"What's so funny?" Victoria was sidling up to where you were sitting and you felt your cheeks get even hotter.

"She's teaching me some French." He said, suddenly not lost for words.

You shoved his shoulder as he laughed. You rolled your eyes before looking over to her. "It's not-"

"French kissing?" She asked. "'Cause it looks like you two are wearing the same shade of lipstick all of a sudden." She rested an arm at his shoulder. "Or is that just the lighting?"

He didn't rush to wipe his lips free of the dark shade, he didn't even try to hide his mouth behind his hand. "It wasn't especially French. But I mean, what's the classification for all of that?"

"French words." You clarified for her. "Ménage à trois…"

She smiled, giving a knowing nod. "Well, he already knows that phrase pretty well…" Her smile turned smug as she poked his cheek. "Don't you, honey?"

"Vic…" 

She stood up a little straighter. "Had you not gotten-"

"No, I had not quite gotten to that part yet." He said, almost scowling at her. "I was working my way up to that."

She rolled her eyes. "Always working your way up to somethin'..."

You put your hand to his wrist and pushed his hand down somewhat. "Hang on, I feel like I'm picking up on something and I could be way off here, so please correct me if I'm wrong. But have you two done this before?"

"Yeah."

He half-covered his face. "Subtlety Vic, can you please Google it?"

"What? She asked, so I answered." She said. "There's nothing wrong with being forward."

"She's right." You said, wrapping your fingers around his.

"Maybe if you were more forward and ditched the whole shy guy routine, you wouldn't need a wing-woman."

"No, I like the shy guy stuff." You said before meeting her gaze. "And I also like the wing-woman."

She smiled and moved in a bit closer. You couldn't help but follow the motion of her tongue sliding across and wetting her lips. She put her hand over your bare knee and you leaned forward.

Her hand went to the side of your face to draw you in those last few inches until you were close enough to kiss. You pressed your lips to hers, your heart racing as the aroma of her perfume filled your nostrils. Her soft fingers caressed your skin as the rest of the bar seemed to fade away for the moment. You leaned into her as she gently sucked on your lower lip.

Before you could open your mouth and invite her in deeper, she was gently pulling back. At once you were swarmed with a yearning for more, slowly opening your eyes to see her grinning at you.

“The wing-woman likes you too, babe.” She said.

You glanced at Ethan and saw that he was smiling as well - but not in a shy way that you were accustomed to seeing. Nor did it appear to be forced for your benefit. You were convinced that he was just as comfortable as you, invested in this increasingly-exciting encounter.

You readjusted how you were sitting in his lap, continuing to enjoy the feeling of his hands on your body. You had mostly forgotten about the cigarette between your fingers, not rushing to return it to your mouth.

“But you two aren’t…?” You trailed off, gesturing between the two friends as a means to complete this question.

She gave her head a little shake. “No, it’s not even a friends with benefits situation. More like partners in crime…”

“Yeah, ‘cause conveniently we have the exact same taste in women.” He said.

“Sometimes guys.” She added.

“That sounds like a pretty great set-up.” You said.

Her smile had a mischievous quality to it. “We know how to have fun.”

“So, is there some sort of routine that you stick with, like do you always take people back to your place, or is it your place?” You asked.

“No, it’s not this choreographed thing.” He said, ready to give you a full explanation. “It’s more in the moment. We go to whoever’s house is closest, and what the third is most comfortable with, you know.”

She cleared her throat loudly. “Honey, this is when that subtlety thing you love so much doesn’t really work out.”

“Huh?”

She showed you a knowing smile as you took a drag from your cigarette. “She’s asking us to take her home.”

He looked at you, eyes wide and eyebrows raised. “You are?”

“I am.” You said with a confident nod.

“Well- I think, um… If that’s what you wanna do… ‘cause I would really-...” He trailed off, clearing his throat before trying a different approach. “My house is literally down the road.”

You licked your lips and grinned. “I know.”

“Thank God you like the shy guy stuff.” She said. “But this is shyer than usual, you’re having an extra affect on him, like-...”

“Two choices here, Vic- you shut up or I make you pay for it later.” He cut in.

— — — 

Ethan’s apartment was just as neat and well-organised as you had always imagined it would be (and you had imagined it. Sometimes you tried to picture him in his ‘natural habitat’, other times you wondered what it would be like to go home with him.)

But you didn’t get to see much of it - there was no time for a tour of the space when you had both he and Victoria whisking you away to the master bedroom. Their intentions were clear and even though you had never done anything like this before, it was easy to follow their lead.

Once in the bedroom, Ethan let his hand drop from yours so that he could pay her some more attention. He joined her at the foot of the large bed and you saw the two friends share a smile. She initiated the kiss as he pulled her to him.

He wrapped his arms around her petite body and lifted, getting her off of the floor. Then he tossed her backwards, with as little effort as if she were a ragdoll. She landed on the bed with a grin on her face and instantly set about getting comfortable.

You put a hand on his shoulder as you stepped closer to where he stood. “My turn?”

He bent down, placing his arm behind your knees so that he could scoop you off the floor. You felt entirely steady as he straightened up, carrying you into the air.

For an exhilarating moment, you weightlessly flew, expertly thrown away from his body. It happened so quickly that you didn’t have any time to register fear. Instead, your trust remained intact and you just had fun. You were also smiling when your back hit the mattress. Victoria moved in closer to you and slid her hand across your middle.

“Two gorgeous women in my bed…” He said, his tone full of awe.

She looked over her shoulder to where he stood. “What are you gonna do about it, honey?”

"Whatever our guest is comfortable with." He said, starting to undo the buttons on his shirt.

"Oh don't worry about me. Currently I am very comfortable." You said, taking in the sight of his bare torso and feeling your heart beat harder. "Very, very comfortable." 

She sat up and leaned forward, slowly crawling across the mattress to him. "What does my nasty boy wanna do, hm? Should I get the box from under the bed, is that what kind of mood you're in?"

"Maybe." He said, his eyes appearing darker in this moment as he looked at her. "Maybe I'm in the mood for some pegging."

"Really? God, you know how much I love pegging you…"

"Yes, I do know." He said, bending down until he could capture her lips in a kiss.

As he kissed her, she put her hands to the buckle of his belt. She took this off of him as they separated from the kiss, she tossed the accessory away. Then she was moving, climbing off the mattress in pursuit of this box.

This left Ethan to place all of his attention on you. He brought his knees down to the mattress, starting to move toward you, his eyes fixed on you as the target. You licked your lips, staring back just as intently. His hand began on your ankle, travelling upwards as he came in closer.

"Let's get you out of this dress, yeah?"

"Yeah." You eagerly responded.

You moved your hands up to his face, your fingers caressing his skin and you licked your lips. Tilting your head to the side, you initiated the kiss. His warmth engulfed you as he wrapped his arms around you, his hands moving to your back. He found the zipper of your tartan dress, pulling this down. He eased the fabric away from your skin, letting it pool around your waist.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, starting to tease your tongue at his lips. He was busy unclasping your bra, moving the lingerie aside. Then he wrapped his arms around you and relaxed his jaw, sinking into this deeper embrace with you. You pushed your bare chest flush to his, enjoying the feel of his firm hands grasping your back.

Victoria's hand collided with his butt with a loud smack, interrupting your flow. He pulled back, glancing over his shoulder. She had removed all of her clothing, revealing a pierced nipple. 

Aside from a smirk, the only thing that she wore was a harness-style belt, with straps that wrapped securely around her upper-thighs. Her hands were full - a black dildo in one and a bottle of lubricant in the other.

"Pants off, honey."

She rejoined you on the bed as he moved away. She placed the objects down, emptying her hands before starting to kiss you. Both of you let your hands explore, with you caressing her neck and shoulders. Her hands travelled up your sides, squeezing as you arched your back into her.

You were breathless, keeping your eyes shut as her kisses started to move down your neck. You let your fingers play through her silky hair as she kissed across your collarbone. Your nipples were hard before her mouth reached this area, her lips wrapping around one of the stiff peaks. You moaned when she started to suck, you were too turned on to contain yourself or feel inhibited.

Your eyes fluttered open, finding where Ethan was standing. Your eyes bulged as you looked at him now that he was naked. Your throat clenched and you found yourself looking at the largest dick you had ever seen.

"Oh my God." You could hardly get the words out.

This got Victoria's attention. She sat up, following your line of sight. "You've never seen one that big before, eh?"

You shook your head, your mouth feeling dry. "Um, only in porn."

"Yeah, I was the same the first time we fucked." She said while he patiently waited at the end of the bed. "But it's okay, he's really gentle when he needs to be and he makes it feel so good."

"I've just never had one that big before…" You said.

"I'm sorry, does it freak you out?" He asked, one hand bashfully moving down.

You instantly shook your head. "No, no, it's not that, it's just…"

"It'll fit." She said, close to your ear. "Don't worry, he knows how to make it fit and once you take it, you're gonna love it."

You finally broke eye-contact with his hardening dick, looking at her smiling face and nodding. "I believe you, I'm just surprised…"

She stroked your hair. "Just relax, babe. We're gonna take really good care of you and make you feel really amazing, okay?"

You drew in a deep breath. "Okay."

"Are you alright if I come over?" He asked.

You looked at him and smiled. "Yes, of course."

He crawled across the bed, his eyes studying your facial expression. "We can start off… let me warm you up a little bit."

Your smile widened and you felt yourself relax some. "Okay."

"I want you to get comfortable on those pillows." He said. "You can lay down, you can rearrange them, you can take your dress off if you like. However you're most comfortable, baby."

You grabbed the fabric around your waist and lifted the dress up, removing it. You parted your legs as you watched him coming closer.

She tucked your hair behind your ear and kissed you on the cheek. "We're gonna make you feel amazing."

You leaned back against the pillows, taking another deep breath. He came in between your legs, leaning down. You snagged your lower lip between your teeth as you watched him remove your underwear.

He started to lay kisses down upon your cunt, with your belly filling with butterflies in response. His lips moved slowly as he thoroughly discovered this area.

Victoria leaned in, placing her hand to the back of your head. She guided you in for more kisses. You let her tongue tease your lips apart as the two of you settled into a decadent rhythm. You wrapped an arm around her shoulders, holding her naked body to yours as her tongue explored the inside of your mouth.

He put both of his hands against the insides of your thighs, gently pushing so as to part your legs even further. Then he moved lower and the tip of his tongue found your slicked entrance. Your whimper was muffled by her lips and you put your hand to his head, a silent encouragement.

His tongue dipped inside of you and your body swarmed with a lovely warmth. She pulled away but you kept your eyes shut. You lazily twisted some of the strands of his hair around your fingers as his tongue worked between your inner-walls.

There was a smile on your face as your eyes fluttered open, curious of what the other woman was doing. Looking to your side, you found that she had attached the dildo to her belt, affixing it at her crotch. She moved away from you, her eyes travelling down his naked body.

She moved down the mattress, taking the bottle of lube with her. She held her index and middle fingers out, then squeezed some of the product onto the extended digits.

Ethan whined into your pussy as she began to play with his hole. He rubbed his tongue harder against the inside of your cunt. She worked at coating his hole in the lubricant, easing her fingertips inside.

She squirted more of the lube out, this time applying it to her temporary phallus. His tongue was moving faster inside of you as his anticipation grew, flicking up-and-down.

She smacked his butt again and he pulled back, moaning. "Are you ready for my cock, nasty boy?"

He nodded. "Mm-hmm, but I… it makes sense for- if we- if I'm inside of you first…" He gestured to you. "And then you can put it in me." He gestured to her. When he looked back at you, it was with wide eyes. "Do you think we can try? We don't have to if you don't feel…"

You leaned forward and took one of his hands in yours. "I want to."

"What a good girl." She practically purred.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." You said, giving his hand a squeeze. "I want you to fuck me, I'm sure."

"Just let me grab a condom." He said.

She came back over to sit next to you, rubbing your arm. You could feel the swarm of butterflies in your tummy, but you returned the smile that she showed you.

After applying the condom to his erection, he returned to place himself directly in front of you. You leaned in, kissing him and moving your hand up to his cheek. He wrapped an arm around your waist as he filled the space in between your legs. He leaned his body weight into you, easing you against the headboard of his bed.

Your body pulsed with anticipation as he repositioned his legs, pressing his hips to yours. You wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders, holding him to you.

Your cunt was fluttering as the head of his dick began to stretch you open. He moved slowly, gradually filling more of you. Your arms tightened around him as you had a moment of reminding yourself that this was actually (and finally) happening. You broke the kiss, keeping your eyes shut to savour this closeness.

And he was still getting closer.

“Do you feel good, babe?” Victoria asked.

“Yes.” You breathed, turning to look at her.

She captured your lips in a kiss as he worked deeper inside of you.

He stopped with a heavy sigh, and you were full. Your body buzzed with all of the anticipation, thrilled to discover what would come next.

She parted from you, leaving you licking your lips. He was looking between the two of you, watching your intimate exchange with great interest.

She leaned over to him, closing the distance between them. They each began to smile when her nose bumped against his, and then they kissed.

“Are you ready, nasty boy?” She asked.

Words seemed to fail him in his excited state and he just nodded his head. She glanced in your direction (a lustful grin on her face) before moving away. The false phallus swung and bobbed in the air in front of her as she sought a new position. She placed herself behind him, her hands stroking across his bare skin. She sat behind him, her chest pressed to his back as her hands explored the sides of his torso.

She wrapped an arm around his middle while her other hand worked out of sight, directing the dildo to his awaiting hole. He let out a shaky exhale and his eyes became unfocused as the penetration started. You felt him twitching inside of you as she eased the dildo in deeper.

“You like that, honey?” She asked.

“God, yes.” He moaned.

His eyes shut as he tilted his head back, presenting his face to the ceiling. You watched as different muscles in his body tensed and quivered, the pleasure radiating out, poised to ruin him. His breathing deepened and she smiled as she checked his expression, delight sparkling in her eyes.

“Fuck.” He whispered, wiggling his hips a little.

Her arm around him started to relax. “Is that-?”

“It’s fuckin’ perfect.” He quickly affirmed.

“Good boy.” She said, loosely holding onto his hips. “Can I leave some marks on your shoulder here?”

“You’re so tacky.” He said.

“What, since when have hickeys been a crime?” She innocently asked.

“Yeah, I think they’re sexy.” You contributed.

She batted her eyelashes at him. “Are you really gonna say no to both of us?”

“Alright, go ahead.” He admitted defeat.

She maintained eye-contact with you, her light eyes glimmering as she began to place kisses on the skin of his shoulder. At the same time, she adjusted her hold on his hips to something more secure. She held him in place and thrusted forward.

One of his strong arms encircled your waist and he braced himself with a hand on the headboard behind you before he began to move as well. He stroked himself deeper into you and you felt excitement blooming in your chest.

You leaned forward, capturing his lips in a kiss as another buck came from his hips. You kissed him deeply as he began to find a tempo, your pussy stretching around him again-and-again.

His moans vibrated into your mouth and it wasn’t long before his speed increased, becoming confident in his momentum. You arched your back, lengthening the collisions between your bodies as each pump from him awakened more sensitivities in you. Victoria’s huffs of effort accompanied the wet sounds of your mouths working together.

When you parted, he stared you down. He was looking at you differently to how he ever had before - seeing more, seeing deeper than all of those glances across a crowded room could allow. And, amongst all of your whimpers and whines, he didn’t see anything that turned him off, consistently taking you further with every masterful pump.

“You like that, do you feel good?” He asked.

You grinded your hips against his. “I fucking love it.”

Victoria nipped at his earlobe, her body still moving with his. “Now’s not the time to be shy, nasty boy. Tell her that you love it too. ‘Cause I know you do, you’re having the time of your life right now.” She grabbed at a section of his long hair, twisting some of it around her fist to give it a tug. “I bet you’re gonna come so hard for us, aren’t you?”

He turned to look at her. “Why don’t you find out, hm? Make me come.”

She licked her lips and snapped her hips into him faster, skin audibly slapping skin as she set into a more intense tempo. His lips parted, but he didn’t have anymore words to say, he just panted for air as he came into you quicker-and-quicker.

The pressure was building up inside of you, to a level that was almost too much to cope with. You put your mouth to his shoulder (the side untouched by Victoria) and began to kiss, leaving an invisible trail of your spit. Riding the incredible waves of pleasure, you started to suck on his skin. You moaned into his muscle as your body trembled.

With your walls spasming uncontrollably, you shattered at your peak. Your jaw dropped as your strength wholly fled you in one second.

“Yes, ah.” You whispered, starting to peel back from Ethan.

Before you could get too far, he was gripping your body to his, craving more friction between your bodies. He was greedily chasing his own release, unrelenting in his need. You felt like you could be split in half in the face of his impassioned jolting, and she kept surging him on.

“God…” He cried out as your swollen pussy clenched on him.

“C’mon honey.” She said over the sound of his laboured breathing.

His tempo began to suffer, desperately carrying on until he ultimately dissolved into the heights of pleasure.

She could read him, instantly quitting her effort. He leaned forward, resting his head against you, his arm loosening around you. As he shuddered slightly, she withdrew, resting back on her elbows and trying to regain her breath.

Gradually, he pulled away from you and you slumped against the headboard. His fingers caressing your cheek prompted you to open your eyes, finding him studying your expression.

“Are you alright?” He asked.

“Fucking fantastic, that’s how I’d word it.” You said, earning you a smile from him. “Is the wing-woman alright?”

“You two wore me out.” She said.

You leaned in closer to him, whispering into his ear. “You could use this moment to get revenge for those love bites…”

He nodded in understanding, while she remained oblivious. He crawled over to where she lay and began to remove the harness that held the dildo, which she didn’t resist.

He hovered over her, giving her a few kisses. “You can’t be too worn out yet, you haven’t even had your turn. I’m not gonna just leave you out, honey.”

“I’d be an idiot to turn down an offer like that.”

“You just lay there and relax and we’ll take care of you.” He said.

You edged forward, you didn’t know what he had planned - but you knew that you wanted in. “Yeah, we’ll make you feel so fuckin’ good.”

Her eyes darted between the two of you and a smile on her face gave away some of her excitement. He guided her legs apart, rubbing the inside of her thighs with his thumbs. You moved in closer and began to stroke the smooth skin of her leg.

He leaned down, taking his face up to her cunt. She shivered as he exhaled upon the sensitive area. “Hm. You’re looking quite wet, maybe you’ve been ready for your turn for a while.”

He dragged his tongue between her labia and her eyes fluttered shut, with her face taking on a dreamy kind of expression. He then worked his way off to the side, bringing his lips to her thigh. He applied lingering kisses to one, before returning to her crotch. He moved slowly over to the other thigh, then back to the centre, setting into a decadent routine. She lazily stroked her fingers through his hair as he treated her.

“You have a really gorgeous body.” You said, your eyes sweeping up-and-down as you couldn’t help but admire all of her. “And your legs, especially, are very sexy.”

“You think so?” She asked.

“Definitely.” You instantly replied. “It’s probably a testament to the amount of time I’ve spent grinding on thighs that legs can turn me on so much.”

He lifted his head to look at you, showing you the glisten on his lips. “She tastes as good as she looks. Try.”

She nodded and he moved out of the way, offering you the space between her legs. You were fast to reposition yourself, eager to experience this part of her. She watched you and raised one of her hands, stroking your face.

You got down to her cunt, taking in her primal, intimate scent. You placed a kiss to her clitoral hood, letting the little bulb rest against your lips. Then you gave it another kiss. You completed the third kiss by pushing your tongue forward, rubbing it against her, which prompted her to whisper your name.

Beside your head, he began rubbing her thigh. “I don’t think that I’ve ever properly appreciated your legs.”

“Yeah, you’re usually pretty improper.” She teased.

“Now that she’s pointed it out, I’m just noticing how very kissable they are.”

“All of her is very kissable.” You said, briefly breaking contact with her cunt.

He joined you in lying between her legs. She didn’t question his motives, lying relaxed as he began to kiss her bare thighs. You were running your tongue in circles around her clit.

“Can I just say that I love my turn?” She said.

“Enjoy all of the attention, honey.” He said.

As he laid more-and-more kisses on her skin, you opened your mouth and inched your face lower. You placed the tip of your tongue at her entrance, then dragged it up between her folds. As you repeated the motion you were tasting more of her.

You returned your tongue to her entrance, using it to work her open. She cursed under her breath and you felt her body stiffen as you moved your tongue deeper. Your lips were pressed flush to her skin as you used long and slow strokes on her inner-walls. She could hardly contain her whimpers, arching her back.

“Are you…?” She began, sounding as if she were struggling to maintain her focus. “You’re giving me fuckin’ hickeys, aren’t you?”

He released her skin from his mouth. “I thought you said it wasn’t a crime.”

“I should’a known you wouldn’t let… that… go.” Her speech became slower as you returned to playing with her clit. “You’re so damn pett- ah…” You made her whole body jolt as you stuffed two fingers into her cunt. She sputtered wordlessly as you worked both your tongue and fingers on her, feeling her walls start to spasm.

She gave up on her sentence with a huff. When she spoke next, her tone had changed. “Actually, I don’t care. While she’s doing that, you can do whatever you want.”

Along with her laboured breathing, you could hear the sounds of him sucking at her skin as he worked to leave his mark.

Inside of her, you pumped your fingers, setting into a merciless rhythm. All the while, you kept toying with her clit. You felt her walls clench every time you sucked it. The faster you circled it, the louder she got.

The mixture of saliva and cum dripped from your lower lip. Her arousal was blocking out your other senses as you chased different reactions from her.

“Oh, babe.” She whimpered. Her composure was starting to abandon her and her hips stuttered upwards in a desperate, unpredictable fashion. You didn’t let this dislodge you, sticking with your consistently quick pacing. “Fuck.”

It only took a couple more strokes from your fingers to get her over that edge. Her pussy clamped down on you as she whined louder than ever. Her body jerked and twitched uncontrollably as the orgasm overwhelmed her.

You and Ethan sat back at the same time, giving her the space to go limp. She laid mostly still, an occasional flinch happening while she worked to regain her breath.

Without a word, he got up from the bed and walked out of the room, the two of you left to recover in silence. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and began to wonder how quickly he would want you out of his home now that the deed was done.

He returned to the bedroom carrying two bottles of water. One was handed to Victoria, the other to you.

He met your eye as he sat down, then he slightly bowed his head. “M’lady…”

You grinned. “M’Ethan. It’s kinda weird, you bringing a drink to me.”

“And I did it without any training, can you believe it?” He joked, making you laugh, which helped this encounter feel less foreign.

“Where’s your bathroom?” You asked and he pointed it out for you.

When you returned, she was sitting up with him. Their conversation halted as soon as you stepped through the door, with both of them staring at you. You saw that they each wore a smile, but you hesitated, unsure of what you had just interrupted.

“What, what did I miss?” You asked.

“Nothing, just come sit down.” He beckoned, there was a mischievous glint in his eye.

“I dunno about that, I feel like you two partners in crime are up to something.” You said with exaggerated suspicion.

“Definitely not. Just come chill with us.” She said.

You made a show of how slowly you approached the bed, then you perched yourself at the very edge. “So what were you talking about?”

The two friends shared a knowing smile before she spoke. “We were talking about how there’s no way you’re leaving here without a hickey.”

»»————-　♡　————-��«

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[nancypullen]

Snip Snip

Well, that's done. Just after noon I drove to Glam Salon in Easton (I think "glam" and Easton cancel each other out) and got rid of a lot of hair. I don't love it, but I don't hate it either. As far as my hair is concerned, that's a win. My appointment was for a cut and highlights on the crown to lighten it up a bit and allow my white to grow in. That's always ridiculously expensive, and quite frankly, I don't see a big difference. First she chopped off a ton of hair, then painted in the highlights and wrapped me in foil. By this time I was questioning my choices.

I love that this pic is a little out of focus because it makes me look like I don't have a bunch of wrinkles. Spoiler alert: I do. Anyway, the end result is fine, and I'll probably keep my hair short and eschew any color. Easier and cheaper, two of my favorite things. I took a selfie before I left for my appointment. I went in with frizz, floppy layers, and a stripe of white roots. The middle shot was taken when i got home. The profile after I had changed into jammies and rubbed my eyes. Don't judge me.

I love the woman who cuts my hair and she is the one who kept me from going even shorter. She told me to try this for a while and see how I feel. She's probably right. I feel that this is a crone-worthy cut and I can live with it. So there are the photos I promised, don't expect to see my mug on this blog again any time soon. Moving on to more important matters - I haven't applied a single swipe of paint to that gorgeous desk/cupboard set. It's just too dang hot. We are still under all sorts of heat advisories, I think our high today was 97 with a "real feel" of 100-something. Totally unnecessary. The humidity is high and absolutely draining. I dragged the hose around and watered a few things and filled the bird bath, and just that little bit of activity felt like swimming in hot water in a wool sweater. Gross. Since I don't have a deadline for painting that piece I do believe I'll wait until the garage doesn't feel like a sauna. That might be a while. Because it's hot and I'm rattling around the house alone, I am not cooking. I've been polishing off dibs and dabs of leftovers in the frig - a bit of rotisserie chicken, a little tuna on crackers, fruits and veggies, I'm like one of those sucker fish that cleans your aquarium. I don't mind it. Keeps the house cool and my tummy full. Win-win. I think we should declare a moratorium on cooking until the high temp for the day is 75. Nothing that takes longer than microwave popcorn allowed.

That's enough from me today. The sun is sinking toward the horizon and the sky is a hazy lavender. That's my cue to roll the trash can to the curb and call it a night. In an hour I'll probably be reading in bed, surrounded by cats. Look at that, another win!

I'll leave you here and try to think of something to write about tomorrow. Perhaps the fact that I refuse to give up on my stunted gardens and have decided that I'll try pumpkins again. Ever the optimist, a glutton for punishment, and a firm believer since 1963.

I'm going to pop seeds into the front bed as well as the garden on the side of the house. I used to grow lovely pumpkins in TN, I refuse to believe that my pumpkin farming days are over. Now is the time to plant for a Halloween harvest. Send me some good vibes, light a candle, rub some beads, sacrifice a chocolate bar, whatever it takes. I'm full of hope. I'll meet you back here tomorrow. Until then, stay safe, stay well, keep COOL.

XOXO, Nancy

[qwertzze]

Today I woke up at 4am and decided that means its. Time to write a 4x ramble of mainly highlights

Now to copy-paste it here so I can uhhh add to it a bit

More than 14 years ago when the first piece of bfdi/xfohv content was released, 4 and x were the first two to have a spoken interaction. Furthermore, in that educational short film, 4 helped X Find Out His Value, the titular event. Later, upon reintroduction in bfdi/bfb proper, 4 has x be his cohost, which gives us more to go off of for their relationship. Highlights of this include: 4 making it a challenge to cool down x when he was on fire, / 4 speaking in unison with x (subscriber specials + have nots/have cots challenge), / 4 saying, and I quote, "but X is just looking for his treasure! I CAN'T LET THAT HAPPEN BECAUSE I MUST BE X'S ONLY TREASURE ", / in a flashback where x is telling the contestants about 4's love for bfdi, it's shown they lived together or at least spent a lot of time together before the show (also can I say seeing x get sad about 4 running away hit me hard), / 4 sung a cover of "All I Want For Christmas" directed AT X, outright calling him "baby" and telling him he would wait under the mistletoe for him (4X NATIONAL TREASURE HOLY SHIT I LOST IT THE FIRST TIME I HEARD IT), / during Thanks for 800k, they did a parody of Honey I'm Home where the line was unfortunately replaced with "buddy I'm home" (4x disaster. We lost that day), / Cary confirmed that they were not related, and that he "liked the shipping", and "yeah, it's definitely canon" (to some extent. We can assume he didn't mean outright romantically, partial win), / 4 calls x "The best cohost money can buy", (he doesn't pay x), and earlier 4 had said "that's because I'm here! Yeah, I'm thinking of doing standup" in response to someone saying it's hot. X says something affirmative to this, I forget what exactly, but with ambiguity I can assume he meant that 4 is hot and noone can stop me, / 4 reads x's memory to find out who stole donut's diary, and x says "Ok! ...remember to keep my secrets" afterwards, / when bfb split into tpot and bfb, when x left, 4 not only got depressed, but referenced the original XFOHV short by saying "I just don't know what my value is, where my cohost is!" (Evil fucking homewrecker 2 I'll get them I WILL), asks ALL of his remaining contestants to help him get x back, before outright making it the challenge for the episode. When x is returned to 4, 4 says "x! I'm so happy to see you! Are you?" "That depends, how good are you at paddy cake?" "I'm super pro!" "Then I am happy as well!", / they have a lot of hugs, notably the one upon 4's return, and that one that is animated so that they reeaaallly look like they're making out, / I'm running out of notable moments hold on let me go watch a 4x compilation

I'm using masculine pronouns ffor both of them bc that's how they're referred to in the show, but as with all Algebraliens, they're genderless

OK OK I COMPLETELY FORGOT TO TALK ABT X GETTING SAD WHEN 4 ENTERED THE GROUND. Sitting at the exact spot 4 entered the ground for months and watching his 43 imaginary bfdi seasons is so,, I mean all I'm saying is that hurt/comfort goes crazy for them (fanfic reader in me shining through)

AND THE "What do you think of roleplay?" LINE. That whole episode of them swapping appearances was so lovely for subtle 4x dynamic. I want I want more just fluffy moments with them,, just seeing how they banter and bounce off each other is so joyful. I'm a sucker for fluff

Generally X is just such a supportive friend and 4 loves them (Other than the LRC line - I really don't like the Limb Reattachment Center being a possibility even off screen. It messes with my perception of them, and it feels inconsistent with the rest of their relationship throughout the show. Maybe I'm just a massive hater and don't want my vanilla flavor fluffy best friend ships being toxic in some way. 4 screeching adds to this, but lesser as later when x made it a condition of him staying 4 stopped screeching)

4 was proud of x for doing bfb without them. Honestly, my earlier distaste for the LRC thing could be fixed by continued shows of progress in their relationship like this. I will read between all the lines I want to make sense of the behavioral changes, as someone who hasn't watched BFDI content other than all subscriber specials, the pi day massacre, tpot 11, and a 4x compilation. Part of my willingness to somewhat brush past is that 4 and X are very strong/durable people who, as far as we know, could live for eons. Mainly referencing Thanks For 900k's timeskip here. I hope they live forever <3

OHHH THE WHOLE SUBPLOT OF 4 TELLING THE CONTESTANTS TO RESPECT X'S ALOE VERA,, I mean, it's a subplot that leads into x catching on fire which leads to th e challenge being first to cool him down then to do something to help his aloe vera grow. But it was great. "If X says there are points, there are points" ...lovely

X offering 4 a juicebox when they feel bad <3

I hope these two title screens speak to their relationship, and my perception of them

[tonydaddingham]

the reading comprehension on this godforsaken website is genuinely insane. it's such shit ppl went after you for responding. fwiw you singlehandedly restored my faith in the GO fandom a little while back, some of the only well thought-out takes for miles (til i started clicking on the reblogs n found more). there was nothing wrong with defending yourself from people who didn't even read the meta. for something you put this much effort into, it'd be weirder not to be defensive

ive sat on the whole thing over the last dozen or so hours now, with a good mixture of upset, anger, some kind of numbness, and incredible amounts of anxiety. i posted that response out of the second; i was really angry, and i flew off the handle. whilst i don't appreciate being told by the other anon that i shouldn't be so attached/shouldn't have been so upset, they have a point, and were right to highlight (intentionally or not) at the very least that that is the root of the problem. i likened the fiasco to some secondary school bullshit, but i didn't realise - or want to acknowledge - that that applied to me too. the whole thing has reawakened ancient history that i thought i had gotten over years ago - more than a decade ago, even - and it very much turns out that that isn't the case, and was simply buried. the uncomfortable thing i also ran into is that the incident has made me re-examine myself with a little more, and definitely overdue, scrutiny - the post attacked at what i now think was my ego, and my over-confidence, and sense of entitlement. that's so uncomfortable to admit, but here we are.

i don't mind people disagreeing with me, but i still stand firm that i don't think sending an ask ridiculing someone, or adding tags that equally can be interpreted as being plain unkind, is a nice thing to do. it's shit - i felt humiliated, and self-conscious in a fandom that until this point, for all my controversial takes 😂 - had made me feel that i had a space to share them, and whilst may not be agreed with, would still be valued by nature of them belonging to a person. i have no doubt that everything on that post wasn't at all personal, but it still felt that what i had spent a lot of time, excitement, and joy writing was worthy of being laughed at, as if i were stupid for writing it (let me be clear - idc if people think the original post and the take within it is wrong, that's absolutely fair enough). it then called into question - what else have people been nice to me about, politely interacting with me about, and yet elsewhere those same people are being horrible about it?

that line of overthinking is entirely my issue, that's noone else's fault, but i do think that had these people just simply kept their opinion to a DM, or somewhere else where the original poster is unlikely/not going to see it, it might have all been avoided. people are entitled to share their opinion, i have no issues with that fact, but it can have consequences... just like the consequences of me rb'ing it once the anger had set in, and i ceased to think rationally. i am sorry that i reacted out of anger, without much - if any - rational thought; that it was bitchy as fuck, and - without the maelstrom of emotion attached to it, as it was from my perspective - it was objectively uncalled for. im embarrassed i reacted like that, and im aware that its only served to make me come across as even more ridiculous than the original post ever could 😂 but i want to settle in with what this has brought up, especially the shitty stuff that i thought i had long gotten over, and look at why i reacted the way i did - i think i was right to defend myself, but perhaps not in the way that i did.

as a separate note, and just really as a PSA to anyone waiting on me in my ask box or has sent me messages - im going to halt on posting any original posts/asks for a while (knowing me, because i can't help myself, a 'while' will probably be like a day). that's in part because im shitting bricks about posting anything in general (this ask response included), but also because - like i said before - i don't want to continue posting stuff when im now wondering how much is coming from a less-than-humble place - im worried that it's a lot more than i ever thought, which is vulnerable, but that's how it goes.

[hyrtwynwrites]

Yensday #3 - 21 February 2024

Welcome back! Again, apologies for skipping last Wednesday, but it's good to be back and doing things again!

Before we get started, I do want to say that, because of my new schedule, I will be aiming to release Yensdays in the morning rather than around noon, or the afternoon. Ideally, there'll be no hiccups, but I will do my best to let you all know if something comes up!

Without further ado...

<><><> Q&A <><><>

@vivailwrites asked:

For Yensday, what would you say your overarching themes of your story is? A story about Yen, about the world, about politics, about the rigors of being A Heroine and Forced By Greater Powers(tm)?

I think that this is a really interesting corollary to the question asked in the first Yensday a few weeks ago! To quote what I said then, "Yenifer's story is one about diaspora," and I do stand by that. However, diaspora is a very large thing, and just saying that the story is just about that removes a lot of important detail. Like any story involving a mass human tragedy, much less a specific injustice, there are facets that become highlighted depending on where one exists in that tragedy.

I think that the most overarching theme in Light's Falle is a search for identity in the face of the diaspora. Yen uses definitions for herself that erode as circumstances give her new contexts, or as actions and actors rip them out of her hands. Yen trying to find who she is, what broader identity she can wrap herself inside of, is being actively pushed back against by external forces. No one has called her a Warrior of Light yet (much less the Warrior of Light) in the story as released, but those expectations are already pressing down on her. Her original identity, the girl from Quarrymill, is fading away. By the end of Gridanian Prelude, she has adopted the title of lancer, but the titles of "Mad Spearwoman of Ala Mhigo," "Emissary," and "Envoy" are forced upon her. The title she most does not want to be associated with, which is the one that Hydaelyn gave to her unspoken, is the one that has earned her the lethal attention of the Ascians/Paragons, and that has a body count.

Yen's search for identity is always one that is going to be in flux, especially as stakes raise and circumstances get crueler. Heavensward will be, in particular, a crucible, but a massive challenge waits for her not too long in the future well before Teledji's plot, and there will be further challenges in Stormblood, Shadowbringers, and Endwalker. Only by the end do I think Yen will have fully, truly found her footing, but the longer she explores the star and herself, the more she finds lodestones to carry with her, identities that she embraces and will not allow anyone to take from her.

The political landscape of Eorzea and of the larger star will be something Yenifer has to navigate. Metaphysics, ancient battles between gods, and secrets bathed black in silence are all going to shape her... but she will shape them back. And, I think, in the end, she will know exactly who she is, and any opponent who crashes against her will fail. She defines herself, and in that definition comes the will to hope and to dream.

<><><> Tidbits & Errata <><><>

Picking a slightly less topic for the second section, I wanted to talk a littttttle bit about some slightly goofy production details!

So, wayyyyyyyy back when I started writing what would become the story we have today, I hadn't actually intended to write something this massive in scope. More fool me! Originally, what it had begun as was a set of little journal entries of my new character that I would upload to friends. I thought it'd be good practice, and I was also trying to tie myself to Yenifer as a player pretty deeply. I wanted to play slow (too slow, in truth: Yenifer, in-game, is currently on Lv.54 MSQ, and has a /ptime of 28 days), and I just didn't... think about it.

Chapters back then were called "Entries," and they were punctuated by snippets of Yenifer's journal (my attempt to adapt the in-game journal sort-of-kind-of). Back then, Yen could read and write - a trait I removed from her (let me tell you, scrubbing references to the journal took more work than I anticipated) during rewrites.

Behold! A snippet of the original! This dates allll the way back to February of 2022, which at this point feels like forever ago. Pretty much all of the first third of Gridanian Prelude was extensively rewritten by me after I had finished drafting it, to bring it in line with the structure that you all are familiar with by now.

I don't exactly know when I realized that Light's Falle was a book, much less a book series, but it was in the spring of 2022, after a few months of having written entry after entry. In the end, the decision was just a recognition of where things were now; I was no longer writing little things for my friends. I had stumbled into a novel, much less a novel series, and I've been etching it out ever since!

I want to thank you all for again stopping by! I apologize for how word-heavy this one was, I hope that it didn't make your heads roll back into your skulls! I'll see you all next week, and until then, may you ever walk in the light of the Crystal!

-H

[hyrule-kingdom-updates]

Cozy wooden chairs are currently bare of customers during this time of day—when afternoon soon crumples into dusk. 

Hello. The person typing these words is called Quill. Please allow me to indulge in the sin of pride for a moment. Above is my favourite line from last night’s chapter of HKU. I would like to quickly analysis/demonstrate why for two reasons. 1) It would relate to weekly assignments for my writing class in which my professor does not know that my submissions of self reflection are actually just renamed works of disgusting, childish, fanfiction about Zelda characters, for I am also a sinner in sloth. 2) I want to.

The following analysis has a pretentious rating of 16.8:

My current venture in Ao3 has one goal: to experiment and write with voice. Perspective. Narration. I have a bit of an obsession with unreliable narrators, irresponsible personalities. Put simply: I love lying.

I’ve sort of grown accustomed to my experiment with the blog--html, colors, asks, tags, codes. I can’t say I’m satisfied, but I can say I’m happy. I did it because I was bored of Ao3, but now time passed and the pattern switches.

Of course, I am still going to continue the original tumblr blog style updates as we are so very close to my favourite part of the story, and if I had to wait another 2 years to get the Ao3 chapters up to speed before I can share the ending, I might frankly kill myself. That Masterlist takes a good 30 seconds to load for me on my Lenovo Legion 5 Nvidia Geforce RTX 32gb AMD Ryzen 5000 series 7 and iphone 5. I shiver at the thought of doing all the work again, and then twice over.

Anyhow: Voice. It’s the constant, the bread and butter of HKU. Long have I dabbled between the realms of writing with intricate, sentimental description, and writing like a loser pissboy. Even now, the certain voice that I concoct for “Quill,” is not how I talk in real life. Of course this choice of style is forced in order to attempt to exude an aura of mystery and intelligence, but it’s not something I truly say “on da casual.” In fact, I’d say this voice of Quill is how I normally think. In real life I talk something more similar to Asivus Hartell. I look at the world of Breath of the Wild, and think to myself how it is a world of splendor and grief, a testament to the act of creation and growth despite life’s repeated tragedies, despite life’s repeated deaths. I think it is a masterpiece that sits in a corner of my soul forever. Outloud, I say: noice. And now you know why I am forever stuck in insatiable madness.

Therefore, I not only write and read sentences in my head, but I like to say them outloud, as is the case for:

Cozy wooden chairs are currently bare of customers during this time of day—when afternoon soon crumples into dusk.

It is very important to me that a sentence feels nice to say. In middle school, I was bored by Shakespeare, but now I understand his obsession with rhythm, syllables, and meter. Don’t you think this is a nice/noice sentence? Perhaps it seems a bit forced at times, particularly in the middle of it, but I like the slight disruption it gives.

There is a heartbeat present in the natural emphasis of the words: CO-zy, WOOD-en, CHAIRS-are. I try to highlight it further with the alliteration: cozy, chairs, currently, customers.

The meter is not perfect, “currently” shakes up the rhythm by an odd number of syllables so it forces a sort hiccup or inverse in the pattern. And “during this time of day” loses the alliteration of “c” that I’ve set up, trailing off the momentum. The reason? I just like the way it sounds, I like the way it transitions.

When AFT-er-NOON soon CRUM-ples IN-to DUSK. A perfect iambic pentameter. My bestie. My beloved, even. It’s a description that I like, even without the meter, but is further enjoyable(at least in my opinion) when juxtaposed with the different weird meter/alliteration in the chairs part of the sentence. It’s two different types of word-feel(there’s probably a word for that) that merge together through the shared interest in the time of day.

It’s also a sentence that I think has decent voice. It’s not something Siv would say, or Zelda or Link. It’s very flowery, passionate or pretentious depending on who you ask, perfect for something like Arcadius or ???(depending on who you ask). I never care about meter when writing for Siv, I pretty much just talk out loud about the topic ‘til it sounds good and then I write it down and edit.

This? I write out the single, favourite sentence first, and then I make a scene as an excuse to use it.

As thank you for reading this, here is another of said “excuse sentences” as I’ll call them. I am finishing up editing its accompanied scene in an update coming sooner than you think.

And they had a long, constructive dialogue much like that between a jellyfish and a ghost—bereft in true transparency.

[a-life-in-medicine]

Highlights of the internship - Week 5:

• First week of OB/GYN.

• This week, I had duty at gynae ward and it was under my responsibility. I felt more like a doctor when I was the one who would make decisions from time to time and I heard the usual ‘doctor’ at the beginning of the questions of the nurses 🥹

Also, when they called ER for me from the ward to ask stuff about medication orders or when I should go to check something about a patient.

And also; when I took care of our patients, dressed their incisions, removed their drainage catheters and sutured them.

• The first day was also my first night shift at OB/GYN ER so I was nervous to have that before being acknowledged by the staff but it went really well.

• I also happened to have two night shifts on alternate days and not being able to take leave on the day between them because of some article work I had, it took me days to take the sleep I needed to get back to life.

And I had to work until noon to leave on the day after the second one because the ward duty does not end quickly. Now I can understand why my attending is still able to live without eating anything ahaha

Seriously, you don’t almost feel the hunger after some time, it is scary.

• “You have got the long hands, just suitable for surgery. You would fit in so well.” - a mid-wife 🥹

• During C/S, I got to cauterize the bleedings and cut the cord. After that the nurse allowed me to suture the skin. More like, she told me she will leave the table if I could do it. I told her that I could, she checked and saw that I was doing well and did literally leave the table: “You are suturing even better than me.” Stop, no waaayyy 🥹

• A doctor, whom I have known from OB/GYN rotation at the 4th class, apparently did not forget me because the first thing he said when he entered ER was ‘how are you, *my name*?’

He told me that he will make me follow a pregnant’s cervix dilatation progress with continuous examinations and make me do the delivery with him. He took me to the delivery room and told the mid-wife there, “this is our intern doctor. She is so hard working and knows everything very well, please do get her involved during examinations and then we will deliver the baby together.” How does he still remember me this much? I was going to melt 🥹

For us to have communication and for me to not miss the delivery, he saved my phone number. He saved me as ‘Dr. *my name*’. If I did not melt before, I surely did at that moment 🥹

Despite waiting and doing examinations until 3 am, I could not be involved in the delivery because the woman was primiparous and it has been a hard, long delivery. “I was going to make you do it but tough luck,” the doctor said.

I got to suture the episiotomy though, only the skin but there is a first for everything. After this, hearing “she has got hand skills for suturing, she is so natural” from mid-wives was also lovely 🥹

• And it did not happen at the first one but at the second night shift, I did deliver a baby! The blood spurting on our arms was not favorable but doing something new for the first time is exciting. I was glad I didn’t drop the baby as it was so slippery. I also sutured the episiotomy, all the way from inside to the skin this time.

• At the ward, along with removing drainage catheters, I had removed a CVC catheter for the first time as well.

• Knowing that it would be my first time of removing a drainage catheter and leaving that responsibility to me despite this, our attending told that he knows me and he knows that I know what to do in case something goes wrong and I will call him, that’s why he trusts me <3

• A patient, whom I have been taking care of and talking all the time, told me “you are going to be a great surgeon, *my name*. I hope, you will be and I will pray for you.” Are you kidding me? How much more lovelier all these people can be? 🥹

• And nurses and mid-wives always offer to make me tea and coffee, I love this team so much ❤️

[seabreeze2022]

2023 Bahama Cruise. Part 11. Mar. 23 Georgetown, Exuma.

Cruising is not all sandy beaches, sunsets and “Pain Killers”. But sometimes it is! Sometimes you have to fix the dinghy outboard on the sandy beach at high noon then retire for Pain Killers later.

We have been in Stocking Harbor at Georgetown, Exuma for 4 days since Monday. Four wet days! Everyone in the anchorage is going stir crazy.

Every morning at 0755 the “net Host” comes on VHF channel 16 and 72, notifying everyone the net will start at 0800. This is the highlight of the day. Photo above has the VHF tuned to Channel 72.

Many anchorages have a net host. They follow a script each day. First they do a radio check for far ends of the anchorage.

Check for priority traffic. Explain local emergency contact phone numbers.

Give a weather and tide synopsis.

This is a “Controlled Net”. Please Answer with a boat name and wait to be acknowledged.

People leaving can say their farewell. Some people have been here 3 months and made many friends.

Shout out to local businesses.

People who need items or expert advice. Usually told to standby at the end of the net for longer explanation.

“For sale or give away”, with the warning taxes need to be paid. This is the fun segment. We once heard for multiple days in a row, folks willing to give of their extra stock of “Dry milk” for adult beverages. No takers, imagine that!

This week on Tuesday someone was missing a “blue sheet” from their laundry done on shore. On Wednesday, someone who must not have been listening on Tuesday, had a “blue sheet” slipped into their laundry done on shore.

It helps to take notes of boat names and what they needed.

Kids corner, where kids connect with each other.

New boats introduce themselves. The last thing is a quote, joke or thought for the day.

Rainey days. Little solar power. Stuck in the cabin. At least the clothes get a fresh water rinse!

What do you do during a rainy day. Maintenance and cleaning! Here I am checking the engine and give Nancy some cross training on the engine room. She gave up on cross training me on cooking. I can open a mean can of cold ravioli and that is about it.

Nancy does a lot of reading and movie watching. I research local history and flora and fauna.

I try and use the Single Side Band to download HF weather radio fax. No luck yet. Could be the many boats in the harbor with all their electronic interference. I have to be cognizant if even the Refrigerator is operating or not. All cause interference.

The weather broke for a couple of hours on Wednesday. Like everyone else, we made for the beach on our dinghy. While walking the beach at low tide we found a Flamingos Tongue. Just for clarification a shell, not the actually tongue of a Flamingo.

Wild Sapodillas on the trail. The fruit, the brown things in the photo, are about the size of a ping pong ball or slightly smaller.

More rain bands. Have to get up in the middle of the night and close all hatches. I sleep in the forward V-birth and know exactly when it starts raining. Because it falls on me!

I can only ignore it so long, before I decide it is worth walking around on deck while it is raining and close all the hatches.

I am still having issues with my dinghy engine. Pulled the carburetor apart about 4 times prior to departure. Like an idiot I did not touch the engine after last season. The old fuel turns into a varnish and clogs the orifices in the carburetor.

Watched a couple of YouTube videos during the rainy weather. Found some more information and ready to tackle it again. Ok, get a list together of exactly what tools are needed. Metric or Standard? Tohatsu equals Japanese, so need metric tools. Do I pull the engine cowl off while the dinghy engine is on the dinghy and floating over 20 feet of saltwater? Nope, not a good Idea. Should we haul the engine off the dinghy and lift it onto the rail of the sailboat? Lots of work and needs to be tested while on the dinghy. So twice as much work.

So how should I work on the engine with some control of the environment?

Nancy and I dinghy directly upwind of our boat to do engine work. Being directly upwind, helps if we have to oar back. Once on shore, we turn the dinghy around and I dig hole to allow the engine to be lowered to work on it.

Being careful not to get sand into the water intake on the lower unit of the engine, I start disassembling the carburetor. Repeat the days mantra after me: DON’T DROP ANY PARTS IN THE SAND….DON’T DROP ANY PARTS IN THE SAND……

Having done this before, I was not too worried about working on the beach and maybe having to oar home. But, you never know….

Nancy got tired of my terse answers and went “Walk about”.

She definitely had more fun than me! Anyway the engine ran, but I decided to tear it apart a second time. So we hauled it up the beach again. Nancy dug the engine pit in the sand this time. I tore the carburetor out a second time, while Nancy made a second loop of the beach and trails.

So far it runs ok, but have not done a true test. It runs at idle forward ok. Sun was out, so we dinghied at slow speed 1.3 miles in rough weather to Georgetown. I ran to the Hardware store for Carburetor cleaner $17. Nancy went grocery shopping at Exuma Market. We checked out with $53 worth of some essentials, which were stuffed in a waterproof bag. An 11 oz. block of coffee is $9. Swung by the liquor store for 2 bottles of Ricardo Coconut Rum, around $25 each.

It was an upwind slog home in 1 foot waves. Kind of wet. Groceries were dry. After a quick shower on the stern, we settled down for the evening.

Here Nancy is What’s Apping her Mom in Fargo where it snowed again recently.

Evening appetizers while listening to the local FM station. After the long day, “pain killers” were the perfect ending that started on the beach.

Saturday the weather breaks and we will move down to “Water Cays” in the Jumentoes. We are taking fresh vegetables and other groceries to our friends who have been in the Jumentoes for three weeks. They are moving up from the Double Breasted Cays and we will both meet in the Water Cays.

This will be new territory for us. So far this is as far south as we have sailed. Not long after we leave our anchorage we cross the Tropic of Cancer. Approximately 23.4 degrees north of the equator. From there we cross just north of Hog Cay and head directly to Water Cay. We need to hit the Hog Cay Cut at high tide to make it through with our 5 ft. draft. Will be off the grid for the week or so. Luckily, we have a water maker that will make our week down there doable.

From there we plan on visiting Long Island (Bahamas) and will then be back on the grid. Hopefully we will have some good things to report from the Jumentoes.

S/V Sea Breeze. Sand Dollar beach, Stocking Harbor, Great Exuma, Bahamas.

[yomarcello]

I been doing Well

I was studying, getting my education in My cellphone in my pocket, I was zoned in In the library, I was for a good minute You had to be there to feel it   I was Lazer focus Keep a dream of owning a Lotus I knew I had to stay working For one day, I won’t be a novice   This is my last assignment My schedule is good with my timing I make it work even though the alignment I did it so good, it felt like I was not trying   Keep it real the time to go was near I had to run to the next class Because my teacher will get on my ass   Being late, that wasn’t my fate I rather be early and look baked Cooked from the last night’s stay But I’ll make it anyway   So, I made it to the room No one in it but a shadow of the moon How can it be possible, it only noon Soon, I’ll realise it with doom   I got to the chair in there The sun gave a glare Like an old woman’s stare Makes your comfort disappear   I do enjoy sun light But let’s highlight the facts I don’t need all that Just enough fill my might   I got sidetracked A little like my grades But wait My airpod case   Swiftly I ran up to my old place Looked at many faces The sit was empty of traces I guess I came too late   Panic ensued Panic in my mind Panic at the Disco Playing As I feel a heavy toll   I do try to track it but find it in a residence With my anger, this person’s fate in imminent I can smell trouble like a dog smell fragrance And I know for certain I’m not ignorant   I was robbed Simple conclusion to a situation Was I in Delusion? Time to find out   o/o   It’s a Saturday afternoon, thunder ensued I’m in my living room with chicken soup My husband is gone for the weekend I guess the house is mine for the keepin’   I am kind of stressed with recent events My car got stolen in my residence I thought the car location was eminent But no trace was left of it   My husband tries to contact police The location they try to retrieve (is this long for you ruxANDa?) But all I hope is to believe   Ring Oh, that must be the robbers No one will try to bother When outside is thunder I guess I’ll let it buzzer   Ring What do these people want? I can see them through the window Tonight, I’m a widow but they should know A woman’s peace cannot be played with, for sure   Ring My daughter is panicking “Who is this rigging” I might be strong usually But now I am shaking   Ring Ring Ring Ring   My fear turns into self-confidence My patience turns into annoyance I open the door with the up most purveyance I hope that they won’t be violent   o/o   it’s Sunday morning, I woke up to stories of a young man looking for his airpod case that’s missing Just so happen to find the same thing   These stories make me sick The woman thought they would break in I was to shock to make any sense of it But I kept to the old trick   I planned to meet this student at my office I previously thought my student owed it Maybe they would notice a missing case And the case would’ve been dealt with   But I guess I messed up Because this man is persistent If he harassed an innocent woman, imagine me Lord knows I might be the next victim   I soon decide to leave it into the securities office Tell them they can give it to this Malice I told them the exact story, they were shocked Little did they know, it was made up.  (1/2)

[tipytap]

WORK RECAP!

job: Laser tag referee

busyness: 3/10 morning, 7/10 as soon as noon hit

HIGHLIGHTS:

i dont normally work mornings but i swapped my shift with someone so they could go to pride :)

didnt actually realize i was in laser tag today until i got to work

couldnt find my keycard in the morning before work, forgot it was in the bag i normally take to work

was so sleepy in the morning it took me until i finished opening laser tag (about a half hour) to realize i fully wore the wrong shoes (an 8 hour shift in vans was NOT fun)

not busy at all in the morning, me and a co-worker found a stray ping pong ball and played 7 on the desk

it was so dead in the morning i was debating if i really needed to schedule a break, especially since we had enough people today to cover a few sessions of laser tag if needed. one person ended up getting sent home before it got busy, had to wait to schedule my break because it got too busy and there was no one to cover! :,)

the person who was taking my position for the evening shift said they were gonna be an hour late, so i scheduled my break finally :) BUT THEN THEY SHOWED UP ON TIME AND I WASNT FULLY ABLE TO TAKE A BREAK BECAUSE I HAD TO LEAVE :(

when the one person left i had to take over her drawer and i didnt know where she left the bag all the money goes in at the end of the day ;-; took a full like 3 min to find it

we have an MIT (manager in training) and he’s a pretty nice guy, and he took my drawer for counting. but this man. he tapped a blank part of the screen. at least 10 times. expecting it to do something. there are,,, buttons. i basically had to go off of what i saw other managers do previously to help him print an audit. it worked in the end! he’s cool, but i dont think he knows how computers work???

MIT struggled to find me in the system to count my drawer bc its under my legal name

one of the cool managers ordered food for me for my break when i was too busy to and put the check under “Luca Pookie”

overall rating: 3/10, exausted pretty much all day but i took a nap when i got home :)

[eurghhhded]

"Another Memorabilia"

by: Angelicah Roa

Retreat (2023)

As the tiring first semester was done — and a half of the second semester is slowly coming to an end, the Grade 12-Galilee students of the Maranatha Christian College held a retreat at the Guintubdan Pavillion, located in La Carlota City. The purpose of the retreat was to rejuvenate and refresh everyone's soul, taking a short break away from anything that ruins it for days.

Quick funny tangent— from that span of three days of joining the retreat, I participated in all of the activities without fail even if four days before the trip I injured my toe. I may have been too excited that I fell and accidentally wounded my toe, bringing it along the whole trip.

Merzci Factory (2023)

Back to talking about the retreat experience. I am not a big fan of riding buses as a mode of transport but I had to tolerate it since I can't let anything ruin the fun and memorable trip I will have. We traveled from Bacolod City to La Carlota City and along the way of our ride, we made a quick stop at The Merzci Factory. It was fascinating to see where all the og "pasalubong" snacks of bacolod were being made and packed to be consumed by everyone that buys it. While observing how the snacks were made, I got hungry— after the tour I went and bought my usual favorites in Merzci; Piaya, Biscotcho, and Butterscotch. I've learned that the ones in the "pasalubong" boxes are handled differently. The snacks on those travel boxes are drier to extend its expiration due in order to keep the freshness while being sent or brought to another country, than the snacks that are regularly sold in the shops on land.

La Carlota City (2023)

After the Merzci factory, we travelled another hour to La Carlota City. Our class adviser decided to stop by the main park of the city for everyone to have their lunch and relax for a bit after that long ride. The class split up and others went to fastfood chains; we went to a carenderia; then there are those who ate at an eat all you can resto. For a short amount of time in eating, we spent the rest of it waiting and strolling a bit around the park. I enjoyed the park even if it was hot around noon, me and my friends were doing silly stuff and that made it fun.

Guintubdan Pavilion (2023)

After the lengthy bus ride, we finally arrived to Guintubdan — A beautiful place that accomodates people and preserves the breathtaking forest and nature. And by breathtaking, I really literally mean going down on a three hundred and more cobble stone steps to reach the glorious scene of a nature made falls. Despite the long steps up and down, it was worth it just to witness and relax with the clear streams of water flowing from the small and natural fall. Our adviser gave us an hour to explore the place and I really appreciated every second of it.

My experience from the activities to sleeping was very enjoyable and memorable. We had our class divided into three groups; red team; yellow team; and blue team. I really enjoyed the moments I had with my team, even if it was just for a day that we all got to compete with the other teams. I also had fun sleeping in one room with my team, the red team, because we talked about a lot of things before sleeping. Scary stories were the highlight of our "chika" and made up scenarios about the monsters crawling out of our room mirror or standing at the corner, just for us to scare each other. There were those who really left their bed and found themselves another pair to sleep with because they got scared off by a silly story.

Lastly, the sessions. The preachings were the purpose of our retreat. We came to the retreat in order to refresh, feed, and remind ourselves again as christian students. Although not all of us are christians, but the purpose of our class trip is to be spiritually fed again by the word of God. Out of the activities that were done, the preaching of God's word was the center of it all.

I am glad that I got to join the retreat with my fellow classmates and friends. I am also glad that I got to feel the serenity and see the beauty within that pavillion. Overall, I thank the Lord for His guidance that we safely got to Guintubdan and back home, safe and sound. For His provision that everyone got to join the retreat, and for the people that He used as an instrument for the retreat to be organized.

To God be all the glory!

[benefits1986]

Belated Birthday Bash

So ayun na nga, mhie. Easter Sunday kagulo po tayo today and sakto kasi eto na rin ang finale ng mahaba-habang birthday ganaps ng dad ko. Since alam na niya ‘yung surprise dahil nga binasa niya ‘yung phone ko and nakita niya ‘yung 12 people na invited, syempre, nag-level up tayo para may shock factor pa rin siya. Dapat talaga chill celeb lang ‘to kasi nga pagod na pagod na pagod na akong makihalubilo sa mga tao at lalo sa mga bata, but, sige, challenge accepted. Nahihiya kasi akong makiabala ng Easter Sunday kasi usually, intimate din ang galawan ng family namin ‘pag ganito. Usually, uwi na kami sa Manila para chill na or extra gala day. Nagbakasakaling invite ako sa Team Panganay GC namin and poof. Naging mga 35 people kami. :D Sobrang daming wala pa niyan kasi biglaan nga.  But, wait. This Sunday, nag-Feast ulit kami kasi nga ‘di kami nakapag-attend ng Lenten recollection. Choice ko talaga ito kahit need ko mag-recalibrate kasi nakikita ko talaga ‘yung sadness ng dad ko as a boomer na ‘di niya ma-process pero gusto niya. Or baka, bumait na talaga ako. LOL. Hassle ng parking because hindi ko sure why hindi na-anticipate na marami talagang pupunta today. Jampacked ang line up kasi pati nearby Feast communities andun. Nice to see familiar faces na after all these years, andun pa rin sila. ‘Di kasi ako masyadong nag-focus sa ministry noon because, I have my OG community na pang-single lang. The Feast x Arun Gogna is actually for my dad and my brother since benta sa kanila dad and tito jokes. Kahit na smirk much ako, ‘pag nakikita ko silang focused sa teachings, parang nanalo na rin ako sa Color Game. Choz. :D ‘Di kami active, we don’t go lagi kasi malimit, weekends are spent outside Manila pero shemay lang ‘tong session na ‘to.  Solid na praise song pa lang, naiiyak na ako kahit pigil na pigil ako. LOL. Sapul ‘yung kanta for me. Huy, naman. Yoko na. Lels. Pero, sabi ko, good choice talaga ‘di muna ako nag-travel kahit babawi tayo sa May. LOLLOLLOL. In a nutshell, basta, go lang ng go and let things happen. Let it be. Ganern. https://open.spotify.com/track/6DCtHdNZJ1y4vmHBAKsAF3

Some of the highlights nung teaching today:  -Lahat ng stories ay unfinished. Kaya may comma, ellipsis, exclamation point, question mark, atbp.  -Death is the jump off point of new beginnings. Allow me to add na, we only have two tiny hands and we need to let go to be able to receive new beginnings and promises. LOL. Hala siya, mhie.  -Hurts and pasts are meant to give you lessons. Don’t turn them to hatred. Don’t deny them. Embrace them. Keep walking. HUY. Hahahaha.  -Healing together is good; but, you also need and want to heal from within to be a wounded healer. Ayan na siya. Lels.  -God is faithful to the brokenhearted. Isa ito sa mga pinanghawakan ko during the past decade. Andun lang siya. I can’t make sense of it noon talaga kasi ang sakit talaga, andaming trauma, andaming shit, andaming detour, andaming dead end. Pero, I fully believe that the perfect time is here and now. Waited so long pero, ganun talaga. Kapit lungs. 

Listen to the full teaching here. Again, ‘di ako fan ng mass and please don’t fight me because I won’t fight you po. Promise. https://www.facebook.com/feastalabang/videos/892643598636074 More importantly, I’ve been checking out my dad from time to time and sana marealize niya na talaga from within na, through it all, God is with us especially during the darkest hours. Siguro kasi ‘yung experience namin with the loss of my mom continues sa loss ng ina ko. Noon kasi, kahit ako, lagi kong tinatanong, if ba may more funds kami, more resources, mas hahaba ba time namin kasama mom ko. 

The answer came when ina was in her deathbed. Now, mas able kami, walang debts, ready to help, ‘di man super daming funds, mas meron kami ngayong. Again, lower middle class kami, kaya, for us, achievement ito. The thing is... when we were as in negative sa funds, walang care team, stopped school, had to be a grantee para makapagtapos among other tipid things, never ever kaming nawalaan ng funds to fuel mom’s health expenses. 

I remember one time, dad was zoned out. Sabi niya, 0 na raw ATM niya to think na manager siya sa reputable bank for so many years. Then, after a few hours, may nag-message sa kanya. SMS that said ‘yung mga kasama sa community ng mom ko na from the Bronx, kesa raw pumunta sa hospital, nag-contribute na lang para sa munting help sa mom ko. Girllll. Mga labandera, walang permanent income, housewives, etc. sila. So for me, wala ‘yan sa laki ng funds mo, it’s all about intention. Since mom is well-rooted sa community niya saka cheerful giver with RBF that’s worse than mine, sobrang na-touch ako dito. Dad checked his ATM and it read P11K. Back in 2004, malaki na rin ito. Naiyak dad ko. Never did P11K hit so hard. Sabi niya, grabe noh? Ang galing. Sabi ko, mom moves in mysterious ways. LOLLOLLOL.  ‘Pag need ng dugo, full force security personnels sa office ni dad. Sa 2 1/2 months naming nasa ward na 16 ang patients, kami pa ‘yung nag-share ng food sa mga katabi namin. Pati mga visitors, laging meron. As in. And ‘pag may extra kaming gamit at gamot, pass on din sila.  Never kami nagmakaawa or humingi. We pay our debts like the Lannisters. Utang ang bayad ni dad sa utang noon pero sabi niya, kesa naman walang diapers and check ups and gamot mom ko. LOL. Tiis na lang muna kami sa kung anong natira. 4 years after mom died, dun kami nakabayad ng lahat ng utang in 8 years. No travels, no passport, no excess, bare essentials lang talaga at makapagtapos kami. Ganun lang. Kaya, alam ko anong ibig sabihin ng walang-wala. ‘Di rin ako takot kasi nalampasan ko na ‘yun. Napagdaanan ko ‘yun. At natawid ko ‘yun. Hence, I don’t get easily impressed talaga.  So, netong sa ina ko, ready kami to shell out. Sabi ko pa nga kay ina, ‘di na tuloy SoKor ko kasi shift ko na lang funds ko sa health funds niyang ‘di biro lalo sa hyperinflation season. Glad to have my tita and K na naka-full gear din pero lahat kami syempre, may limit. Walang kaming sky. LOL. ‘Yung iba naman naming relatives, sa pag-look after ni ina naman ‘pag wala ako kasi need ko na talagang bumalik sa Manila noon kahit iniisip kong mag-uwian pero sa layo ng side ng Laguna ng hometown ni ina, mhie, baka bumigay katawang-lupa ko. ‘Di ko rin naman puwedeng pabayaan work ko kasi paano po tayo magbabayad ng bills at magtatawid ng funds ng ina ko, ‘di ba? LELS. Hassle talaga maging hindi Team Laking-aircon at times. LOL. Choz lang.  Side Kwento about cash-rich bitches and gents. May isang pumunta sa ina ko na baby boomer and sabi niya na ‘di raw siya sure if lahat ng anak niya will be with her sa deathbed niya unlike my ina. Opak. Shala si lola and well off or nakakaluwag-luwag mga kids niya. Pero, for me, wala talaga ‘yan sa dami ng funds mo. Andaming families na nastress AF dahil lang sa dami ng funds na meron sila and with dami ng funds, ewan ko ba bakit damot, damot, damot is everywhere. Damot sa collaboration. Damot sa pagintindi, pag-adjust. Then, dun na lang papasok ang funds because, need din ‘yan pero ‘di ‘yan ang end-all, be-all. Again, ako lang ‘to ha. Ako lang. Sa experience ko lang. 

Sabi ko pa sa ina ko, kahit ‘di na ako mag Grab saka sa kanya na muna car, para ‘pag may emergency okay lang. LOL. But, ina knows that her fight is not merely about the funds. It’s a fight that’s going down, non-stop. Eto siguro ‘yung pivotal moment ko sa journey na ‘to. The answer na kung naging nurse ba ako then either nag-alaga ako sa mom ko or nag-fly to Europa na ako para todo kayod sa padala for her funds... the answer is, the choices I made are all aligned. Sobrang revelation ito sa akin since I’ve been really shittalking myself na I’m never ever ever good enough. Sakit aminin niyan, but true. And ina made me see that after a decade-long dark chapter, I may not have done it perfectly, pero I’ve done it well and sa abot ng kaya ko. Sinagad ko pero death is not something that we can run away from and cheat.  And soooo, balik tayo sa belated birthday bash ni dad. Bash mode ako sa kanya kasi ‘di niya inakalang lahat ng 5 kapatids niya, may represent. Tapos ‘yung tito ko na may flight pa-SG today, sumama rin. Syempre, dahil gusto ng tatay ko ng Jap food, punta kami sa South’s underrated Jap spot. Super oks niya kasi malapit talaga sa lasa ng actual Jap food. Saka, uhaw na me for my highball and sashimi. Bonus pa super cutie ng half-Jap chef. Hahahahahahaha. Sarap. Ng food. CHZ.  Sabi ng tatay ko, bakit pa raw ako nagsayang ng funds na sana pinang-SoKor ko na lang. Sabi ko naman is eto kasi ‘yung sinasabi ko sa kanya noong mamatay mom ko, make good and worthwhile memories together. Noon kasi, as in, naging super detached siya right after mamatay ni mommy. So ako, kahit adult na ako, ansaket, bhe. Tapos nagkaroon pa kami ng major rift because, ayoko na isplook that bit kasi tapos na rin naman ‘yun. Sabi ko pa nga, ‘yung pinagdaanan ko noon, ayokong pagdaanan niya lalo at his age and at this time. Kaloka lang kasi dati, sobrang gusto kong gantihan tatay ko in 4D kasi nga, bhe, ibang level ‘yung sakit. Walang-wala sa jowa pains kahit na ‘yung serious relationshits pa. As in. 

‘Di ko inakalang may pain levels palang ganun in this lifetime na kaya pang umabot sa next lifetime, kung meron man. Pero, nung nakita ko ‘yung patterns ng mom ko and ng lola ko, sabi ko, ‘di puwedeng ganun. ‘Di na dapat ganun and ayoko ng ganun. Kasi I don’t wish that kind of pain on anyone kahit sa dad kong ganun ginawa sa akin, noon. LOLLOLLOLLOLL. Mature roles na talaga tayo, mhie! Pak. Pero, kaya sinasabi kong I feel fine at 37 is because, kung bata pa ako at feisty much na mala-The Glory ang peg, leche, matindeng higanti season ‘yan. Not perfect kasi masungit talaga ako pero, gets? Mabait na ako. CHZ. Or bumabait na ako na minsan, ako mismo, nagugulat. Lorddeee, ‘wag mo muna ako kunin please. Hahahahaha. Akala mo naman apaka bait ko na talaga noh? 

While I will be putting time and effort in spending more time with myself because mhie, ngayong araw ko naramdaman ‘yung mega pagod since Feb. 20, I will also find more time with my dad and the big, big family. LOLOLLOLLL. Hassle lang kasi natampal ko si E kanina kasi ang arte-arte na kunwari iyak-iyak... proof na I don’t like kids talaga. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Akala ko kasi si Vici karga ko pero later, friends na kami ni E. Hahahahaha.  Gusto ko lang ‘tong post na ‘to as a reminder nitong araw na ‘to. Plus, girllll, my dream bike is coming soon. In the color that is my vibe. Hahahaha. Maka-dream bike naman noh? Akala mo talaga pangmalakasan. Pero super bait din ng seller and willing to wait siya kasi mag-focus muna ako sa mga ganaps pagbalik sa office because, ayoko na lang ulit isplook. Sana kayanin ko, mhie. Sana tama ang decisions ko in life because, road to adulting na talaga tayo with a heart. Charet. 

Thankful din talaga ako kasi dumating ito sa perfect timing. Mahirap? Super. Challenging? Yes na yes. Worthwhile? I’m betting my life on it. :D Akala mo naman Grey’s Anatomy or NA ang deliverables noh na life and death ang deadlines? Pero, darating din tayo sa part na masasabi kong I’m doing something for the greater good. Kapit lungs. Need ko lang talagang i-choose ang battles ko and remain true to my core and most importantly, my intentions. Ems.  Babu for now! Dami ko pang tambak na chores and tasks. 

[filthforfriends]

Satin, Lace, and Other Pretty Things

Past 3 is here!!

Thomas x fem reader

Word count: 7k

CW: Gratuitously detailed descriptions of fetish and sex acts.

It’s another night where you hold Thomas as he sleeps, stroking his hair and smelling the crown of his head. Fortunately, tonight it is for far different reasons. Your excitement is keeping you awake rather than worrying. Without intending to, he’d accidentally given you the world’s filthiest shopping list: toys and compatible lube, lingerie, pretty outfits, and all the supplies needed for pegging. Luckily, you’d already checked off the lingerie box and had a package arriving tomorrow. It would be impossible to research and acquire everything else in the next 24 hours. You couldn’t take a sick day to get sex supplies for you boyfriend, although it was temping.

The next morning, you get up before Thomas, a return to normalcy. You’re sipping tea and answering endless emails when he stumbles into the kitchen, bleary eyed. His dirty blond hair is going in every direction and his expression is an adorable mix of groggy and pouting. The comforter must have been too hot because he’s slightly sweaty and his cheeks are flushed.

“You weren’t there when I woke up,” he complains.

“Baby, it’s noon,” you answer, affectionately. Clingy Thomas was so precious that you stood up and wrapped him in a hug.

“Oh,” he croaks, letting out a sigh and giving you so much of his weight in the embrace that you nearly fall over. He freezes. “Shit, I have a fitting at one. Ugh –” He looks back and forth, trying to get his bearings.

“Your cigs are on the window sill,” you supply, knowing he couldn’t start the morning without some nicotine. He places a dramatic kiss on the top of your head, giving you a final squeeze before letting go. Watching Thomas smoke was a guilty pleasure of yours. The way he delicately held the cigarette in his elegant fingers highlighted how large his hands were. Thomas didn’t create a seal around the cigarette with lips puckered everytime he took a drag. He was effortlessly casual, mouth plush, blowing the smoke from the side of his mouth out the kitchen window.

When he reached up to close the window, you spotted the blue waistband of the underwear he’d borrowed before bed. It was cheap fabric, you couldn’t wait to supply him with panties of far better quality and fit. The risks of him wearing womens underwear to a fitting weren’t lost on you.

“Is it going to be the whole band and Nick?” You don’t want to validate Thomas’ feelings of shame, so you’re trying to remind him of his undergarments carefully.

“I think, yeah. All I know is some people from Gucci will be there.” Strangers that may have mutually beneficial relationships with paparazzi and tabloid journalists. There’s no way he wanted this to get out, he hadn’t even been able to tell you.

“Okay baby, you might want to change,” you wince. He looks at you incredulously.

“Yes, of course. I’ve still gotta shower from earlier.” Earlier?

“You showered last night.” Thomas finishes adding sugar to his coffee before speaking.

“Yeah, but I practiced this morning.” His expression is neutral, but you can see him holding back a smirk. The confusion is evident in your features, and he takes his first sip, amused. “You told me to practice yesterday, so I did.” Practice what? Oh my god. You’d told him to masturabate with his legs up, like he was getting fucked, so he’d get used to the position, and he’d actually done it. You mind references back to when Thomas first walked in the kitchen, sweaty and flushed. If that wasn’t sexy enough, he was also wearing your panties. Which means he was probably wearing the when…and that's why he needed to shower.

“You’re gonna be such a good bottom.” He tries to take a drink right as you speak, but ends up spitting the coffee back into the mug and coughing. “Next time, please let me watch.” You hope Thomas feels vindicated, because you feel deeply irritated that Brenda was bitching about the relationship between work ethic and flexible deadlines, while you could have been watching your boyfriend cum in your underwear with his knees to his tummy.

“You really want to watch me jerk off?” he marveled.

“Mhm,” you take a couple steps across the kitchen so you’re standing chest to chest. “And I have another homework assignment for you, since you did so well with this one.” Even though Thomas is nearly a foot taller than you, he seems small, holding his breath and waiting in rapture. “You’re gonna use our lube, and finger yourself.” Everything would be easier if penetration was familiar to Thomas, but your request didn’t land well. His face fell and his gaze turned downward. Immediately you knew you were missing something.

“What is it, baby?” Your hands ran up and down his arms, soothingly.

“I only like it when you do it,” he whispered, staring at the floor. This was immensely flattering, and so endearing, but you wondered.

“Is it that you don’t like it, or are you ashamed of it?” He doesn’t answer, and you don’t make him. Instead, you step into his personal space and roll up on the balls of your feet, rubbing your nose against his affectionately. You kiss all along his jaw and add an extra peck to his chin, then pull back and see that his expression isn’t so negative. The grating ringtone of his phone interrupts your moment.

“Sorry, I might have to answer this.” He cleared his throat, pulling his phone from his back pocket. It's their stylist Nick, so you nod before he even has to say the words.

“Hey, I know we meet at one.” Thomas does this thing you love, one out of a thousand, and wraps his hand around your waist, pulling you against his body. Whenever a phone call or a conversation interrupts an intimate moment, he’ll prioritize you physically. It's a reminder that you’re a priority, that he’s thinking of you even when he is discussing something else, that he loves being close to you. The first time, a Sony executive had interrupted you gushing over Thomas when he got off stage. Thomas had tucked you into his side and snuck a hand up the back of your shirt, running his fingertips along your bare skin. You’d nearly nearly climbed him like a tree in front of god and everybody.

“Okay, thanks. See you later today.” He ended the call with a sigh. “So they pushed the fitting to three, since somebody’s flight got delayed. Which means I’ll probably be home at midnight.” Well, that ruins all your plans tonight. You let out a guttural sigh with your head tilted back. ”I’m sorry cara mia, I know we were supposed to have dinner together.”

“It’s not your fault,” you groan, and throw yourself back into his embrace. A small knock sounds from the door and you perk up right away. The website did say 2-3 business days. How much can you fit in two hours and end with Thomas still mostly functional?

“What’s that?”

“Your present,” you sing, running down the hall.

“My present?” Thomas calls from the kitchen. The postal worker looks startled that you’ve opened the door so quickly, in your excitement. You give her a manic smile before snatching the box off the ground and closing the door behind you. It feels a little heavier than expected, which hopefully means luxurious packaging. You’d hoped to open it before Thomas, make sure everything was presented beautifully. However the prospect of not having to wait might be even better.

“What am I getting a gift for?”

“Oh, you’ll see!” You skip into the bedroom, listening for Thomas behind you. “Bring scissors to open the box.” You smooth out the comforter and sit in the middle of the bed with the package in front of you. There wasn’t anything too adventurous inside, you’d been careful of that. Everything was full coverage: lined, with no cutouts or open backs. Still, it might be too intimidating.

Thomas rounds the doorway, scissors in hand, looking apprehensive. You pat the space across from you enthusiastically. He crawls onto the bed, folding his limbs methodically to sit in front of you. The only gifts previously presented in the bedroom were lingerie sets that you wore for Thomas. Of course, recent conversations gave this present different implications, but he likely thought it was too soon for you to make any related purchase.

“Is it a new guitar strap?” He accentuated his questioning tone by drawing out the first syllable, trying to lighten up the moment for his own sake.

“Nope,” you chirped.

“Is it something vintage?” Second hand finds were some of your favorite gifts to exchange.

“Why don’t you open it,” you coaxed. He took a deep breath and cut through the tape. Inside, was a much nicer box, and you helped him take it out, throwing the cardboard on the floor. Thomas was searching for a label as he opened it, and you realized you should probably say something. You place a hand on his wrist to stop him from pulling back the tissue paper.

“If you don’t like it, I’ll just take it all back. I don’t mind and it’ll be fine,” you blurt. Seeing your nerves, Thomas’ anxiety spikes, and his hands are unsteady as he unwraps the gift. You thank however packaged for putting the least offensive item on top. Black satin bikini cut panties with subtle lace trim. Thomas unfolds them and oogles the cut in the front.

“I didn’t know they made them like this,” he marveled.

“I did a lot of research,” you state neutrally. The look on his face is very encouraging, pure wonder as he runs the fabric between his calloused fingers.

“But how –” Thomas’ brow furrows as he tries to piece together a timeline. “I didn’t think you could get overnight shipping on this kind of thing.” His eyes are tracing every seam as he turns the fabric over and over in his hands

“You can’t.” He looks up, holding the panties delicately in his hands. “I ordered them before I left for Ethan’s.” This doesn’t seem to compute for Thomas. His eyes are wide and clouded with confusion.

“When I researched this, I was immediately into it. Immediately, I wanted to participate and I wanted you to be comfortable so…” you trail off, bashfully. His expression is unreadable. “If it wasn’t the right thing to do, I totally understand. I shouldn’t have just assumed and inserted myself before you were ready.”

“I don’t feel that way at all,” he assures. Thomas reaches a hand out to hold yours, his thumb brushing along the outside. It’s the same gesture you used to comfort him two days ago, and your whole body feels warm, radiating from your chest.

“All I want is for you to be confident in my feelings for you,” you plead. “Cause I’m in this, with you,” you insist, emphatically.

“I feel that now,” he grins, and you can see the shift in his energy. Your heart feels light, and aches with adoration.

“Okay, good” you smile so hard your cheeks hurt, relieved. “And you don’t have to like –”

“Oh, but I do,” he interrupts. “In fact,” he stands up from the bed, “I’m gonna go put them on!” Thomas paces behind you, so your back is turned and you can’t see the process of him changing. You bite back the urge to whine at being deprived of such a glorious visual. He walks back into your line of sight, still wearing a t-shirt. The panties fit perfectly, which means the other pairs likely will as well. The waist is properly snug, and there's no excess fabric in the back. The pouch in the front leaves room for his manhood, and the fit of the leg holes also allocates for that. He lets you see all this by turning at different angles for your benefit.

“Dear god, so, so pretty. Like so pretty,” you emphasized. “Do you like them?” There was no need to ask, Thomas was glowing.

“Yeah, they fit so well,” he exclaimed, bouncing on the balls of his feet. You’d never seen him examine himself in the mirror like this, rotating his hips to watch how the light hit the fabric.

“Come open the rest of your present.” He practically skipped back to the bed, sitting next to you this time. The next layer revealed the all lace pair, a vibrant magenta on what turned out to be nude colored mesh. They were sexy and fun, the kind of underwear you’d first wanted. Thomas’ eyes widened, and you worried they were too much.

“Sorry, those were supposed to be full coverage,” you apologized. He seemed to barely register what you were saying, as he shed the black panties and pulled on the new ones. It was nice to see how little adjustment went into wearing them.

“Those are comfortable, right babe?”

“Mhm,” he responded, traipsing in front of the mirror again. Thomas was so into himself, that he barely gave half a fuck what you thought. It was your new favorite thing to watch him this confident. The panties were high cut enough to cover part of his happy trail. Something about the sight of his body hair disappearing into lace, the contrast of feminine and masculine, drove you up a wall.

“The cut of those looks so sexy on you, baby girl.” Thomas took a break from admiring himself to blush at your words. You could shower him with compliments all day. “Look at how pretty your waist is too.” He pulled his shirt up around his ribcage, and traced his skin as it curved. It gave you half a dozen filthy ideas.

“Pretty girl,” you cooed, watching him get hard. You could see his cock through the lace and it was a gorgeous sight. “My perfect, pretty girl.” At this point you were just acting out of intuition. So far, the results have been excellent. Even though you didn’t know what you were doing, just that it felt good. This dynamic came naturally to the both of you. His earlier comment about wanting to be feminine was very confusing, but you weren’t about to ask Thomas questions about his gender that he didn’t have the answer to. Maybe it wasn’t even about gender. He’d tell you when he figured it out, no point in making him self-conscious.

“Come open your last present,” you impatiently request. This was the one you were most excited about. He took one final look at himself in the mirror and clambered back onto the bed. The tissue paper rustled as he lifted the last pair out. They were like the ones you’d caught him in, but more so. Ruched pink satin, with tons of white lace, and pink bows on the hips, just excessively girlie. His eyes went wide and he touched the fabric like it was going to vaporize any moment.

“You don’t have to –”

“These are my favorite,” he interrupts. You’d expect him to jump up, but he sits there fondling every inch of the fabric. He rubs the ribbon with his fingers and brushes the rouched borders.

“Feel how soft this is.” Real satin is soft, you’ve known this for years. Rather than burst his bubble, you take the panties from him and agree. This allows you to confirm that yes, the quality was worth the price. Thomas seems suddenly jumpy, and you realize it's because he's anxious to get the underwear back in his own hands. There is so much joy in watching him love these gifts, even more than you anticipated.

He tenderly places the magenta lace panties back on the bed, next to the black ones, before refocusing. He’s half hard as he pulls the last pair on, but they fit anyways and this seems to excite Thomas on an entirely pure level. It makes sense. Years thinking there was something wrong with him because cutesy underwear were never made for his consumption, and now suddenly they are. He admires himself in the mirror and you can’t help but notice how perfectly the ruching accentuates his ass.

“Can you take off your shirt?” you blurt. You’d tried to match the creamy white of his skin and pretty pink of his nipples to his panties. He pulls it off, then folds his arms in front of him, vulnerable. You lose the ability to sit and watch without touching, getting off the bed and hugging him from behind. Thomas feels secure enough to drop his arms, and you both gaze at him in the mirror. Greedy, starving, your eyes rake up and down his body, noting the beautifully compatible color palettes.

“It’s even better than I imagined,” you confess, peppering his back with kisses. Thomas lets out a disbelieving huff, and you can’t fathom what flaw he could see in himself right now.

“You really don’t think I look ridiculous?”

“No,” you growl. He’s asking for assurance, but you feel a novel protectiveness over this side of Thomas and it compels you to crave dispelling doubt before it can form. He turns around in your arms, back to the mirror and his lips on your forehead.

“Thank you,” he whispers, and you know the words reach much further than today’s gifts.

“Always.” You kiss Thomas’ sternum, and his chest hair tickles your nose. Shamelessly, you take a deep breath, enjoying the smell of his body. You two stand there, embracing each other, swaying back and forth. His hands move to the hem of your shirt and pull. When you step back to remove your top, Thomas takes advantage of the space to lean in and kiss you, carefully molding his lips to yours. Thomas’ hand is in your hair, pulling gently to tilt your jaw up. Once he’s happy with expanses of your exposed neck, his grip becomes less gentle, keeping you in place. He starts small, grazing his teeth against your skin, and such careful attention to an erogenous zone throbs between your legs. You let out a sigh, leaning against him, as your vocalizations progressively turn into moans.

Thomas works his way up, nips soft then harsh, until he is leaving love bites on your neck. Each mark is accented with the assurance of his tongue, and at some point if his arm was secured around your waist, you would have collapsed. Your head has lulled completely to the side, happy for him to have his way with you, basking in the pleasure of his attention. The sensation of your bra being undone surprises you. How did his hands get there? You’re too lost in the feeling of his lips against your skin, the way they’re tracing up the column of your neck.

“Christ,” you moan, as he sucks on your earlobe.

“Jump,” his breath in your ear sends a shiver to the base of your spine. It takes your muddled brain a second to assign meaning to sounds, but once you’re cognizant, you jump off the ground. Thomas hauls you up his body, bra falling on the floor. Now you’re both topless, and your nipples harden where the brush against his chest. Only then do your eyes truly open, to find the reflection of your boyfriend wearing panties in the mirror. Suddenly, you're not just putty in Thomas' arms, now remembering the task at hand.

“Baby, there’s some prep work I want to do before we jump into any of that new stuff.” You tuck Thomas’ hair behind his ears, tenderly. When he doesn’t respond right away, you backtrack. “But we don’t have to do that today, and if you’ve changed your mind that’s totally fine too. I’m already plenty satisfied.”

“Like what?” He sits on the edge of the bed with you in his arms. You can feel the lace of his underwear brushing against your legs. It really should change something for you, but it doesn’t.

“I wanna get you a lot more comfortable with penetration. So you can relax more, learn how to let me in.” His hand started rapidly tapping on your thigh, a sign of nerves.

“Yeah, okay,” he sighed, finally taking a deep breath. “Are there usually problems when it comes to, um, pegging?” His eyes are so earnest and you wish you knew the perfect words to quell his nerves.

“Your body has to feel safe. I’m never gonna force something and risk hurting you.” You didn’t want Thomas angry at himself because he couldn’t take a strap-on.

“Okay, so I’ll – I’ll clean up, then.” He shifts you off of his lap, hands still fluttering with nerves. Thomas stands in front of you with nervous energy, like he’s not sure how to ask.

“Use the bathroom, then use gentle soap and warm water.” Getting him comfortable with talking about anal was a conquest for another day. “Don’t overdo it, you’ll be fine,” you assure. While Thomas cleans up you give your nails a cautionary filing down, and pull out the oil based lube. Latex gloves were ridiculously hard to get amidst a plague, never mind expensive. You’d gone bare-handed before and didn't mind. It would definitely bother Thomas more than you.

“Babe, you don’t need to make your body a sterile surface,” you call, grabbing a couple dark towels from the closet.

“Okay, out in a sec!” Thomas had changed into the black, understated panties when you’d stepped out of the room, and was now laying on the bed. You crawled towards him, checking the nightstand for all necessary items in your peripheral vision.

Making out was easy and familiar, the weight of his tongue in your mouth, cathartic. It allowed you to grind against him slightly, and after a few moments Thomas was completely hard. You didn’t want to rush him, but your enthusiasm was making that challenging. His bare chest allowed you to place kisses from chin to hem. Since his cock hadn’t escaped the confines of his underwear, you kissed the satin bulge to its root.

Nuzzling between Thomas’ legs was one of your favorite activities, because it allowed you to drink in the warm, heady scent of his groin. However, he’d been so thorough that his inner thighs simply tasted vaguely of soap. The pressure of your nose against his taint sometimes got a reaction if you managed to brush the right spot. This was one of those times, his legs clamping down around your head. Pulling the crotch of his panties to the side, you licked Thomas’ taint, with intention.

“Wha – what, what are you doing?” he stuttered.

“I want to eat you out baby girl. Can I?” His chest was heaving, eyes glassy. Holding his gaze, you kissed Thomas’ inner thigh, demonstrating your affection without crossing a boundary.

“I, um – huh uh” he devolved into a whine as your lips returned to his taint. Pulling on the underwear a little more, you captured a ball into your mouth, at which point his legs were nearly smothering you. He rocked his pelvis forward, against your face, seeking more stimulation. Unfortunately you could only give that to him with continued access to oxygen.

“Can I take off your panties?” you try. Thomas nods, looking downwards at you sitting back on your heels. With some effort, you pull the silken fabric down his legs. Immediately, you return your hands to his skin, rubbing up and down his thighs reassuringly, so he doesn’t feel too exposed.

“I’d like to prop your hips up. Remember, we’ve done that before.” Thomas had almost lost his mind at your suggestion to use a normal pillow during ass play, even with the cover of a towel. He’d gone to a sex shop and gotten everthing imaginable to make the process of receiving more sterile. Water-proof pillow cases, specialty anti-bacterial toy cleaner (despite having no anal toys), dental dams, gloves, a plastic sheet, antiseptic spray, plus harsh internal and external cleaning systems. None of these things had you used previously, in fact you worried about Thomas giving himself a chemical burn. At first, you suspected that Thomas may not want to do butt stuff at all until you saw his reaction.

He’d been on his hands and elbows, face pressed into a pillow, so you couldn’t see his expression. On almost every occasion, he elected to take this position. You didn’t need to see his face, however. His back arched into your hand, toes curling, dislodging the headboard in his grip. Thomas had broken out in a sweat, and his skin was feverish under your non-dominant hand. You thought he might lose consciousness for a moment.

Massage is the best route in anal fingering, but he’d rocked back and forth like he craved thrusting. More so than anything, his pleasure was evidenced by his vocalizations. Thomas moaned like he’d never been touched before, like he was a virgin having their first orgasam. He cried out and whined, begging for more in English and Italian. It was such a passionate, raw response, that you touched yourself to the sound of his pleasure.

Thomas never asked, but when you offered ahead of time, he’d spend an hour in the bathroom in preparation and vibrate with excitement the whole day. On one occasion, you’d designated a couple hours before dinner, but Thomas kept giving you these looks in the morning before work, like he was about to explode. He was so keyed up that you bent him over the kitchen table, just to be humane. You’d ended up using olive oil as lube, because it was the best thing in reach. Once you’d started he pleaded with you pitifully not to stop, and you couldn't bring yourself to leave the room. Thomas came shaking, thanking you profusely as his spunk marked the tile. His voice cracked and chest heaved, like he was an inch away from outright crying. You wondered if he’d ever forgive himself for enjoying this, so he could take more than a single finger.

“I’ll just use the same one as last time, okay?” You pulled a contoured pillow you’d purchased just for this out from under the bed. Thomas had thought of everything besides his own comfort. He held his breath as he lifted his hips, watching as you situated it.

“Is that comfortable, baby girl?” Thomas nods, holding fistfuls of the bedding in a vice grip. He continues to look when you lean over to grab the lube, and settle back between his legs. Thomas actually jumps at the pop of the cap opening.

“Can you tell me before you…you, um –”

“I’m just touching you on the outside, right now,” you assure. His neck was strained as he watched every action. You hadn’t even started and already knew he was too tense for this to work.

“Tommy I’m gonna need you to be really honest throughout this, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” he quaked.

“So when I check in, please just tell me exactly how you’re feeling.” He nods obediently. Trying not to visibly sigh, you reassess the situation. Every scenario just ends up with him tensing, so you lube up one hand and try a different tactic. It's the same one that worked on you, kissing and warming up slowly.

You lay beside Thomas and leaned in to kiss him. He seemed surprised at that direction, but happily settled into something safe. Your tongue took its time running along the seam of his lips, before pushing inside, and his mouth fell open in response. Thomas’ head finally relaxed against the pillow, and you applied pressure to his taint. This was ordinary touch in your sex lives. Thomas’ prostate was very accessible externally and it was such good stimulation.

Trying not to build anticipation, your fingers further dipped further down to his rim and started gently massaging. There was no forceful pressure, the only way you ended up inside is if Thomas let you.

“Too fast,” he squealed into the kiss.

“Okay,” you chirp, encouragingly. You move your fingers back up to his taint, and search for his sweet spot. “Are you okay with this?”

“Mhm,” he nods, and you decide to follow up with positive reinforcement. Leaving his lips free to communicate, you move down to kissing his neck.

“What a good girl, listening so well,” you coo, licking the shell of his ear. “You told me so perfectly too.” Thomas tilts his head to allow you more room, and you can see him smile. You decide to lick each of his visible teeth, which results in you kissing his mouth again, this time more passionately. He bucks his hips when your fingers finally find the right place, and his arm wraps itself around your waist, pulling you close. The kiss devolves into him moaning into your mouth, milky clear pre-cum dripping from his cock.

His free hand reaches to yours, pushing further down. With Thomas' permission, you dip back down, trying to soften his entrance. Instead of remaining stationary, you rub back up to his p-spot, then back down over his anus, combining the new movement with something he already likes. Finally, you get a satisfied hum from Thomas, his eyes half closed. His body starts to give, just a little bit, and you refocus your attention to his rim.

Trying not to ruin the progress, you reach over for more lube, and situate yourself between his legs. Now that you can actually see what you’re doing, the process becomes easier. Tentatively, you take one of his legs and bring it up to your shoulder. With additional lube, everything becomes slippery, and thereby easier. Thomas starts rocking against your hand, all the sensitive nerve endings in that area waking up in response to your touch. His eyes are closed, and his mouth has started to relax. It's beautiful to watch him give into this.

“So beautiful already,” you compliment. He smiles again, and lets out a happy hum. The entrance to his body has become malleable, and you know he can take a finger if he lets himself psychologically.

“Kitten, can you touch yourself please?” He whines and arches dramatically into your hand, causing just the tip of your finger entering him. He wraps a hand around his cock and you let get into a rhythm.

“My pretty kitty is still doing such a good job listening.” Thomas starts mercilessly tugging at his cock in response, groaning pornographcally. “Don’t cum just yet kitten.” He grimaces but slows down obediently. “Such a good girl,” you sing, rubbing his thigh, then kissing his ankle for good measure. “So, so fucking perfect, and so ready too. How do you feel, baby girl?” He simply whines, his spare hand searching for you with his eyes closed. You guide it to your thigh to give him something to grab.

“Are you saying you feel good?”

“Yes, yes,” he murmurs, squeezing.

“Okay, just a little bit of pressure.” Thomas was so lost in pleasure that a little bit of anything didn’t matter. Until you pressed the first half of your finger inside, and he was left with a completely new sensation. You felt him tense, watched his eyes fly open.

“Does this hurt?” you immediately asked.

“No, but gloves. You’re not wearing gloves!”

“We’re out of gloves, and it's okay. Sometimes I don’t wear them,” you sooth. “Please just lay back and relax baby. We’ve made such good progress and I’m so proud of you.” He lets himself fall back into the bed, hands covering his face. “Check in?”

“I want to keep going, I just feel self-conscious.” he sighs.

“Anything else?”

“Like, insecure.” His voice catches a bit at the end.

“Baby, I’m washing my hands at the end of this no matter what.” He bites his lip, trying to fight a smile. “I literally spent the past half hour trying to get my finger inside you like –” his ribcage starts to shake in laughter and you can’t help but join. “Only one of us is concerned here,” you joke. “Can I please see your pretty face?” Thomas puts his hands down, and looks at you, eyes glassy. You can’t tell if he’s shed any tears or not.

“Check in?”

“Keep going,” he answers, timidly. You remove your finger, apply more lube, and try to push in half way, but he’s tensing again. Bringing his other leg up, Thomas shifts his hips to get more comfortable.

“You’re already part of the way there,” you encourage. “Can we just breathe together for a sec?” Thomas nods, and takes a deep breath in time with you. Each exhale, you softly say “relax.” In the new position, you apply light, consistent pressure so the intrusion is very gradual. Once his body has some give, you push your finger in all the way, and stay still while he acclimates. You can feel him squeeze, testing the sensation of penetration.

“Is that the whole finger?” he gasps.

“Yep, you did it kitten,” you beam. Next comes the part that makes this all worth it. You start rubbing the pad of your finger against his walls at an upward angle, searching for the prostate. It's much easier to find internally, and his hips are erratically bucking in no time. Thomas lets out a whine with his head thrown back, neck flushed, and fists tearing at the sheets. You know it feels good from his reaction, so you apply a little more force, and a larger area of movement.

“Uh, uh, fuck,” he moans, undualting his entire body to seek out the friction. “Fuck, god yes, plese yes, please…” Your middle finger comes to massage his rim as well. Which is something you’d attempted, but never succeeded at integrating. Fresh lube was added to your middle finger, and you applied the slightest amount of pleasure while massaging your way past his rim at a snail's pace.

“You can touch yourself baby girl,” you encourage, giving him some pleasure that was familiar and within his control. Thomas’ hand rose to his cock then faltered. He never had a problem with this when you took him from behind.

“Check in?”

“Keep going,” he grunted.

“Baby –”

“I feel the same.” Insecure and self-conscious. That wasn’t ideal. The change in position put his actions on display for you, giving a clearer view. He probably felt more vulnerable to rejection like this, and Thomas’ relationship with his sexuality left a lot of room for improvement.

“Do you need someone to give you permission to enjoy this? Because I give you permission to love this kind of touch, and I know you do.” Finally, you dip the tip of your second finger inside, testing the diameter stretch. Thomas’ face is crumpled, discomfort from feeling too many things at once.

“You’re allowed to want this baby.”

“I am?” he squeaks, in his smallest voice.

“Of course you are,” you gush. “You’re allowed to desire anal play, and ask for it. You’re allowed to touch yourself however you want, and it doesn’t make you wrong or strange.” With the second finger to the first knuckle, you twist your fingers back and forth, brushing the prostate while also making room. Thomas and squeezes your thigh instead of covering his face. You reach down and lace your fingers together, somehow this extra ounce of intimacy is what finally causes the tears to spill over. When he cries, his body actually relaxes, no longer trying to repress anything.

“I’m not sad,” he exclaims. “It’s just a lot and sometimes I wish I was, like, normal.” And there’s what he’s been holding back. He takes a shuddering breath in, and when he lets it out, you insert the second finger a little further, so both are halfway.

“I don’t wish you were vanilla. I just wish you’d give yourself permission.” Thomas gesticulates like he doesn’t know how to respond, then covers his face again. You don’t move, letting him acclimate some more, giving his hand a squeeze.

“Baby girl, I’m so satisfied with our intimate life,” you consoled. He nods and his breathing becomes less dramatic. “If you need reassurance, please just ask me next time.” Thomas wipes his eyes, and sniffles, muttering an apology, before looking at you.

“Check in?” He’s so dear that you want to scream.

“I’m great,” you answer, simply. “Can we keep going?”

“Yeah,” he whispers. His hands are twisted in the sheets again, and it prompts the realization that movement is how he physically works through anxiety.

“Baby girl, can you rock our hips a little, just however you want to.” Thomas looks confused, but he starts making clockwise circles with his pelvis. “Just focus on that,” you coach. His eyes turned upwards, towards the ceiling, and you applied more lube. He’s half soft, so maybe orgasam didn’t need to be the focus of today.

“Pressure,” you warned. Thomas closed his eyes, willing his body to relax, and with a little bit of force, you were able to sink to the last knuckle. When his eyes fluttered open, after you stilled, he saw your full smile, and the corners of his mouth turned up on the sides too.

“That's two?” He confirmed, excited.

“Mhm, you did great. kitten. I knew you could do it.” You kissed his shins and adjusted his legs on your shoulders.

“Is that half or?”

“That’s all the way,” you announce, wiggling your fingers inside as punctuation. Thomas’ breath catches in his throat, and you start making come hither motions. That gets a huge reaction from him. He cries out, hands flying to the bedding to the headboard. The rocking of his body changes direction, trying to find a rhythm with your hand, and you can see him break out in a sweat on his sternum. Thomas winces in pleasure, but as you speed up the gentle massaging of his prostate, his mouth falls open in pleasure, totally relaxed.

“Please, please, please,” he whimpers repeatedly. Each time the pitch gets high and more hysterical.

“What does my pretty kitten need?” you coo. Ruthlessly, your thumb finds his sweet spot externally, pinching his prostate between your fingers. Thomas literally kicks you in the face, without even noticing. He arches off the bed, moans turning into loud whimpers. The stimulation has his cock crimson read and leaking pre-cum. His thighs are trying to close around your hand to keep it where it is. Just like in orgasam, the sudden onset of stimulation makes his entire body cramp and lock down.

“Pretty kitty, don’t forget to rock your hips.” His mouth forms the words before he manages to vocalize them. He tries to speak but ends up moaning, his palm hitting the headboard in a state of overwhelm. You can’t make him cum if he breaks the bed. Dropping his hand, you guide his hips in motion.

“Rock your hips,” you command, this time without any diminutives. This gets his attention, and he obeys, hand sliding from the head board, taking some gasping breaths.

“Good girl.”

“More, y/n. Please more,” he pants.

“Are you–”

“Di piu, di piu,” he begs, switching to Italian. You can feel that in your cunt like an electrical shock.  When you don’t speed up immediately, he starts pushing at your hand, the tendons in his arm straining. Focusing, you do your best impersonation of a vibrator with your fingers, and he falls apart. Thomas hips snap forwards, while his ankles pound on your shoulders. If you hadn’t been two fingers deep the movement of his groin would have thrown your hand off. Having his body this reactive wasn’t anything short of fantastic, you’d just need to work with him.

“No, no don’t stop, di piu,” he moaned pitifully, sounding like he was nearly crying. There weren’t any tears on his cheeks, but he was flushed like a sunburn. You were going to explain that it's hard to rub the prostate of a moving target, but instead you pinned his hips down with your free hand.

“Non fermarti. God, please, please,” he was whining like a woman, absolutely frantic. In the early days, you would have assured him that you weren’t going to stop, don’t worry, but this was just an externalization of the build to orgasam. Thomas’ head was tossing side to side, pressing his body into your hand. His nails raked down your thigh, searching for the hand that was busy keeping him on the bed.

It was poetic. To see him crushed under so many layers of fear, afraid of his own body. Now this celebration of sensation, between his quivering thighs, dusted with dark hair. His body was reduced to a vessel for pleasure. That was its only function, just because he’d allowed himself to let go, let go in your hands. The reward for defeating self doubt had been bliss. It wasn’t anything less than exactly what Thomas deserved.

“Pretty kitten, I know you wanna cum,” you purred.

“Dio santo, please, please,” he babbled, and the tears fell. He was right on the edge, and likely didn’t have the coordination to help himself. Moving your hand up, you gave his cock a few strokes, his viscis pre-cum coating your palm. He came almost immediately, throbbing in your first. During his climax, it was all you could do to maintain pressure internally, as his entire body heaved with pleasure. It was so dramatic that spit had collected in the corners of his open mouth and his eyes rolled back in his head.

You reflected, while watching the spunk splash on his abdomen. It was a cherished experience, to build Thomas up to a peak and be there to catch him on the other side. You loved every part of guiding him through pleasure. Orchestrating the perfect orgasam for Thomas was rewarding in a way that nurtured the soul. That's what you thought about, as he returned to earth, as you wiped off your hand and his stomach, and you lay down on his chest. Sex should be an act of self love.

Notes: I'm sorry that I haven't posted a fic in over a week. Do you like this kind of stuff? Like details galore, slow paced, realistic or is it boring and you just want to get to the fucking already? Thanks for reading! Please tell me if tags are/aren't working.

Masterlist

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[wordsfromthesol]

Hunted

Author: @wordsfromthesol​ Taglist: togasbetch malfoys-demigod pricetagofficial Pairing: Dick Grayson x Reader Summary: You're a detective at Bludhaven PD with Dick Grayson and when a serial killer your after starts hunting you down, you have no choice but to ask for his help. Warnings: Kidnapping, stalking Word Count: 2.3k

You had been working at Bludhaven PD for about 2 years before the hotshot Dick Grayson came on the scene. Though you had grown into friends or at least friendly coworkers…he annoyed the shit out of you. After all, everything seemed to come so easy to the pretty boy Grayson and you could count the number of times you had actually seen him at the station on one hand. Thankfully this happened to be one of those times because you had run out of options.

"Dick, can I get your eyes on this case? I'm been staring at these files for hours and can't find the pattern. Yeah, they've obviously got a type. But that's not enough to go on."

Dick briefly runs through the file before staring blankly up at you. "You can't be serious, right? You need to take yourself off this case."

"People are dying, Dick." You had already assumed you would get some pushback from the star detective.

"I can't let you go after this guy. You're an exact match to all 5 people they've killed." Dick attempted to reason with you, to no avail.

"Then I'm the exact person who should go after this guy. Rather it be me than some civilian." Finally, Dick relented and gave you some useful information.

"Well…everyone was taken near an abandoned subway line." He takes out a highlighter and marks up the map. You tried to mask your nervousness as the bright yellow line stopped a block from your apartment.

"Thanks…I didn't even notice that." He nodded, still apprehensive about giving you the information, as he handed the file back to you. Tucking the papers away, you decided to finish up the research at home. 

As you sauntered home, you were barely able to keep your eyes open. Stopping at the crosswalk, you noticed a man staring at you in your peripheral vision. You swore he was the same man from five blocks ago. Surely you were just paranoid…right? You began weaving in and out of the crowd, making a complete circle back to the crosswalk. Yet there he was in the corner of your eye. This wasn't paranoia. This was real. You pulled your phone out of your pocket and pressed Dick's contact card.

"Hey, uhm…remember that case we were talking about today?"

"You mean literally 20 minutes ago? Yeah, I remember."

A nervous chuckle escaped your lips, "Well you were probably right." Dick could hear the shakiness in your voice.

"He's following you, isn't he?"

Your current situation momentarily left your mind as the words tumbled out of your mouth, bypassing the brain. "How the fuck could you possibly know that?!"

"Don't go home. I'm coming to get you." You wanted to plead with him to stay on the line, but your stubbornness got the best of you. Slowing your pace, you attempted to stay in the crowd and walked straight. How was Dick even going to find you? As soon as the thought danced across your mind, there he was, as if you summoned him from thin air.

"Y/N!" The familiar voice called out from the street. A deep sigh of relief flooded over you as you trotted over to him. Crawling on the back of the motorcycle, you didn't bother asking where he was taking you. Anywhere was better than here.

**

"Wow. Just wow." Dick shook his head in awe as he climbed off the bike, ushering you into the apartment building.

"It's not like I planned it." You tried to force the uneasiness from your voice.

"Right, of course not. You realize he had to have been following you for days now, right? He knows where you live. You can't go back there." You hadn't really thought about that, yet where were you supposed to go? You looked at him pensively, unable to form a proper sentence. "Looks like you're staying here then." The alacrity of the statement caught you off guard.

"I can't just --"

"Right right. So let's go antagonize the serial killer. Genius." The sheer amount of sarcasm took you aback, this was a completely different side of the infamous Dick Grayson than you were used to.

You glared at him as he opened the door to his apartment. "So dramatic…besides, someone has to stop him. He's already after me, so I'm the perfect bait."

Dick's eyes went wide. He looked at you like you had three heads before bellowing, "ABSOLUTELY FUCKING NOT!"

"Do you have a better plan?" Part of you hoped he would begin rattling off some convoluted trap. One that didn't hold your life in the balance.

"Well…not yet. But I'm sure we can think of something. Give me a few days."

**

A few days came and went and you were losing your mind in Dick's apartment. The worst part was, you were never alone. Dick or one of his family members was always by your side. You weren't quite sure how some 14-year-old kid was supposed to do anything if said serial killer showed up, but Dick was insistent.

Finally, you caught a break. Jason, your latest babysitter got called away on some emergency and Dick wouldn’t be home for another hour. Of course, Jason informed you to tell Dick he left just moments ago, which actually worked in your favor. You dialed Captain Holt on your phone and began to strategize. The captain wasn't keen on using you for bait either, but eventually, you swayed him. Everything was planned to take place tomorrow afternoon, a time Dick just so happened to be testifying in court.

"Y/N?" The confusion spread across Dick's face as he opened the door.

"I'm here!" You called out from the bedroom before stepping into sight.

"Where's Jason?"

"Oh, family emergency. But he left like two minutes ago. Nothing to worry about."

"Okay…" Dick didn't sound convinced.

"I also got a call from the captain today. He wants to meet with me tomorrow at 2." You tried to play it off as a casual request, but you knew it wouldn't be that simple.

"What? Why? We still haven't caught the psychopath…plus I have court tomorrow."

"Dick, I'll be in a police station. You can drop me off on your way."

Dick let out an exasperated sigh, "Fine. But I don't like it."

**

You were absolutely terrified, but you tried your best not to let it show through. After all, you asked for this. Dick still seemed uneasy, even as he dropped you off at the precinct. You wondered if he could tell something was wrong. Though there wasn't much he could do at this point, considering he was due in court by noon.

"Y/N. Are you sure about this?" Captain Holt questioned as you walked into his office.

"No. But something needs to be done. This guy doesn't just give up. So either I'm bait and we have a chance at catching him, or I die a horrific death for no reason. Not the best of options."

Holt nodded in understanding, "Well everything is set up. We have snipers in position around the perimeter of your apartment and a dozen plain-clothed in the vicinity."

"So hopefully we have a chance. What about near the abandoned subway entrance? That's how Dick thinks he's staying out of sight."

"Covered. We are ready to go on your command. Though I still think Detective Grayson should be informed of the plan."

"He's in court. So he couldn't help out anyways. The fewer people that know, the better. Let's move."

**

You arrived at your apartment without any issues, though you could feel a million pairs of eyes on you. With everyone watching you, it would be hard to notice one more face. Nevertheless, you persisted, attempting to go about your day in your apartment. The apartment that now seemed so foreign to you, though you had only been unexpectedly ripped from it a week ago.

As the day went on you began to feel more and more lightheaded. Normally, you would chalk it up to stress, but given the situation, you decided otherwise.

"Captain…"

"There is still no sign of him," he ignored the strain in your voice.

"I think…he's already…here." A crashing sound was left ringing through the earpiece.

"I want everyone on her position now! Get me a visual!" Captain Holt's booming voice commanded those around him. "Where are my snipers?!" An eerie silence crept over the line. "Shit." He mumbled before pulling out his phone. The dial tone appeared to mock him until finally the other end picked up.

"What happened?" The stringent words reverberated in the air.

"He has her."

"Goddammit. How did he get her out of the precinct?" Dick didn't wait for an answer. "Because she wasn't in the precinct. How could you let her be bait? You've seen what this guy does!" The anger was bubbling up inside him. Out of everyone, why you. Why did he have to go after you?

"I know."

"How long? HOW LONG HAS HE HAD HER?!" Two cops turned towards Captain Holt as Dick's voice echoed from the speaker.

"About a minute. From her apartment." As soon as the word left his lips, the line went dead. Holt buried his head in his hands. If there was any hope of finding her, it was Dick Grayson.

**

You woke up in a cold, dark, concrete room. "Well, guess that didn't work out as planned…" You mumbled to yourself, or so you thought.

"Really? You thought a bunch of cops in blue jeans could stop me? I've been hunting you for months. Along with the others.  But you. You were my challenge. I memorized everything about you. Your favorite breakfast, your confidants, what time you call your family. Lovely little folks, by the way. And then you thought you could hideaway in that pathetic little Richard Grayson's apartment. The only reason I didn't take you then is because I didn't want to. What kind of challenge would that be? That would have diminished everything!" He carefully stepped around your chair, weaving your hair in and out of his fingers, until he turned to face you. "But now, here you are! My masterpiece! My coup d'etat!" His lips forced their way to yours. "Don't worry, my sweet. I'll take my time with you. After all, the grand finale demands perfection!" The crazed man turned on his heel and sauntered out of the room, leaving you with your own horrific thoughts.

It felt like hours had gone by before he returned. When he walked in, his eyes went immediately to your wrists and fingernails, which were now bloodied beyond recognition. "Now I wish you hadn't done that. Blood does not make for a spectacular fossilization." He walked around and surveyed the damage. "I guess it was to be expected though. After all, it wouldn't be fun without the challenge."

"You know, you keep saying that this is some big challenge, yet you gassed me and then tied me up. That doesn't seem like you are really challenging yourself."

"Simple-minded fool! Challenges are not always those of brute force. It took planning and timing to get you here. Those 4 snipers set up on the surrounding roofs? Had to get them out of the way. A delay in your communication device? Truly a necessity. And though you had the foresight to add a few men to the abandoned subway tunnel, they neglected to surveil the associated maintenance hatches. So you see, your perfect encapsulation proves to be quite the…" You noticed a slight furrow of his brow as the sentence broke. "Challenge. Now to finish preparing the resin!" Off he galloped, but you swore something was off. A slight change in his mood.

You heard several loud bangs before your captor fell backward through the door. Nightwing loomed over his grisly body. Then his eyes shot up towards you.

"I'm okay." The words were forced from your throat. With those two small words, Nightwing glared down towards the man and began throwing punch after punch. "STOP! Please!" You screamed out the words, shocked at the vigilante's ferocity. Nightwing's eyes slowly shifted towards you. It was as if a twinge of pain ran its way through his body as he crept towards you. Once close enough, his hands carefully cradled your face until finally, he spoke.

"I don't know what I would have done without you. Why did you do something so stupid?" You could tell he wanted to say the words out of anger, yet a euphoric aura surrounded them instead.

Still confused, you began to answer as he unbound your wrists and ankles. "He wasn't going to give up. This was our chance to catch him…"

"I would've found another way!" The words burst out of him louder than expected. Nightwing let out a sigh as he helped you out of the chair.

"Alright, Dick, I'm sorry." You glanced at him for a reaction...nothing. Worried he didn't hear you, you pushed the point further. "Guess I should be glad you weren't in court long."

Dick stopped in his tracks, finally realizing his mistake. "I…uh…left early." As the two of you got outside, there were a dozen cop cars already swarming the area. Two of the officers came up to meet you.

"Detective! Are you alright? What happened?!" The first began to raddle off questions, but Dick quickly deflected.

"You can find out later. I'm taking her to the hospital. Your man is inside, unconscious."

"I can still talk ya'know…" You mumbled as the officer ran off to inform the others of the new information.

"Yeah, but then you'd try to convince me not to take you to the hospital. And that's not going to happen. But don't worry, the captain is on his way there now. You'll get to regale the entire course of events with him."

It was almost scary how well he knew you. "You'll stay too?" The simple question caused an oversize grin to spread across his face, but all he did was simply nod.

[duskandstarlight]

Embers & Light (Chapter 39, NSFW Nessian)

Notes: Well, over a year you've had to wait for these two to seal the deal... BUT NO LONGER. And because I'm thankful to you all for sticking with this story, I've granted you with over 16k of sinful naughtiness. I think it's safe to say this is NSFW but you guys have read my smut before, you know the drill.

Embers & Light has always very much been the alternative story to Habits, but I couldn’t help but write in some crossover moments here to highlight the differences in events--timeline is a fascinating thing! Lemme know if you spot the moments :)

Please let me know what you think :) Comment and kudos will make my day!

I won't be able to write much of August (wedding & mini-moon) but I'll be doing my best to get you guys something as soon as possible. Hopefully by the end of the month, anyways <3

Oh! And I got a bookstagram. Find me at bookships.and.fandoms (and bear with me, I cba to take pretty pics atm)

Chapter 39 Cassian POV

Cassian stared at the doorway and the staircase beyond it, his gaze fixed and unwavering. Nesta had slipped out of the living room to follow Feyre up the stairs over ten minutes ago and he was already consumed with the biting sort of worry that gnawed at your insides.

He wasn’t concerned about what Nesta might be discussing with Feyre—that was her business—but because he couldn’t help but fret when it came to Nesta’s wellbeing.

It was a myriad of concerns that trampled through his mind like a herd of cattle. Had she slept enough? Had she recovered from being caught in the crowds the day before? Was her conversation with Feyre going to have her take three steps back rather than one forward? Cassian had spied the book of fairytales she’d slipped into her bag. Had guessed what she’d intended to do with it.

And then there was the fact that Nesta had left the bed before he’d woken again. Cassian couldn’t help but feel disappointed that she’d not been there when he’d opened his eyes, especially after the night before.

But that was how it was with he and Nesta. When the sun dipped below the horizon, Cassian often felt as if they were on the right path; as if once the world shut its eyes, the pressure was off and their play could continue. But as soon as light bled back into the sky, things weren’t the same. They weren’t cold… but Cassian felt suspended in a limbo of flirtatious banter and respectful distance. Which was hard, when all Cassian wanted to do was be as close to her as possible: to hold her hand and wind a hand through her hair. To kiss her brow and mouth and sink his teeth into her neck—

Cassian’s jaw tightened. He wanted to do wicked things. He wanted to make her moan and shatter. Wanted to know how she felt wrapped around him. Wanted to see if she’d gasp awake as he pushed inside of her.

Their trip home was going to be a turning point. Or at the very least it would be a milestone—a hammered notch as they progressed towards something. Yet, Cassian wasn’t naive: he wasn’t expecting Nesta to fall into his arms and never leave. But he hoped that it might make Nesta see their connection—not the tie between them, but the chemistry that Cassian knew would forever exist even if the mating bond was severed.

From the very first moment his gaze had settled on the haughty, vicious sister Cassian had known. Had nearly been brought to his knees—the heart-stopping moment so powerful, it suspended time as he felt something turn inside of him, as if something that had lain dormant had finally snapped open an eye.

And because of that Cassian would willingly allow Nesta to forge the reigns when it came to whatever it was between them. He could go slow. He would take the chance that Nesta might grow to accept him, even as he was seized by the terror that she might grow bored and draw a line under things before he had the chance to prove that he was worthy.

Cassian took a deep, steadying breath that made his ribcage heave. Thought of the lullaby that sat in his room at the House. Used that to ground himself and banish the painful thoughts.

Nesta had cared enough to gift him a piece of his past that nobody else had ever gone to the effort to find for him. And that was… everything. It was everything to him.

“I can hear the worry grinding gears in your brain.”

Rhys was standing where Mor had been a few moments earlier, his hands tucked into the pockets of his trousers, his eyebrows raised. Cassian hadn’t noticed Mor slip away. Couldn’t even recall what she'd been saying to him. Had he ignored her? He didn’t know. Didn’t really care. They all knew he was head over heels when it came to Nesta anyway.

Cassian blinked. It took him a moment to process Rhys’s words, but his body finally caught up. An instinctive grin tugged at the corners of his mouth and he commanded his eyes to sparkle, even though it was all fake. “I was under the impression you didn’t think I had one.”

Rhys didn’t chuckle or retort with something dry. Sometimes his brother allowed him to indulge in his self-deprecating behaviour, but it didn’t seem like today was one of those days. Instead, he cut to the chase. “They’re fine.”

Cassian bristled. Didn’t bother to pretend his mind wasn't solely on what was happening upstairs. “Feyre’s speaking with you now?”

Nesta would hate that. Would know if her sister was communicating to her mate whilst they were talking.

His brother’s laugh was as smooth as velvet. “No, she locked me out. It’s a habit she’s started recently and it’s usually coupled with the mental finger.”

This time, Cassian’s smile was genuine, as was the chuckle that chased it. “Feisty.”

“You have no idea,” Rhys responded with a wink.

Mor, who had breezed back to Cassian’s side with a new cup of coffee, rolled her eyes. “We do actually, you two are like rabbits.”

“We’re mated,” Rhys replied with a wave of his hand. “It’s to be expected.”

Mor lifted her eyes to the ceiling. “Cauldron, I need to bed someone rather than hearing about my cousin’s exploits with my best friend.”

“Head to Rita’s and find yourself a pretty fae,” Cassian drawled, tugging Mor into a one armed hug.

“Mmm,” Mor hummed, but she chewed on her lip again. Glanced nervously at Azriel, who was in deep conversation with Elain. His shadows were tucked in neatly to his frame rather than trailing, ever-moving and loose around his body, but Cassian knew he could hear them.

Cassian dropped a friendly kiss to Mor’s head before he let her go. Tussled her hair, grinning mischievously when she squawked in disapproval.

As if sensing that his cousin wanted a change of subject, Rhys looked square at Cassian. “Azriel will come over later to update you on the latest movements.”

Cassian sobered as if someone had poured icy water down his back. “Not later,” Cassian corrected firmly.

Tomorrow. No the day after that. Cassian couldn’t guarantee that he’d be able to stop once he’d had his first proper taste of Nesta.

But of course they couldn’t do that—wouldn’t. The situation in Illyria was too dire for them to be so selfish as to lock themselves away for days.

It didn’t mean Cassian didn’t want to, though.

“You’ve got plans?” Rhys asked lightly and Mor froze.

You’ve got no idea, Cassian thought. But then realised his brother knew. Of course he did. Surely everyone in this room knew how desperate he was to get back to Illyria. To have Nesta in his bed again, writhing and moaning, their bodies slick with sweat as they moved in unison.

Clenching his jaw, Cassian grounded that desire between his teeth, until it was nothing but broken, delicious shards that scraped down his throat. His blood coiled. “Yes. Maybe.”

If she doesn’t change her mind.

“It has to be tomorrow, Cass.”

Biting back a sigh, Cassian nodded. “I know. Come at noon. I suppose I’ll be camped out in Illyria for the foreseeable future.” He cast a stern look at Mor. “Send me letters.”

“You have a housemate,” Rhys reminded him. “You’re not going to be entirely alone.”

Mor grinned slyly. “A very beautiful housemate.”

Cassian was more than aware of that.

He grunted and unable to stop himself, he voiced the fear that always niggled away at the back of his mind. “For now.”

But Rhys just loosed another manicured shrug, that was at odds with the ground-breaking revelation that followed it. “For a long while. Nesta has expressed her desire to remain in Illyria long-term despite the discontent. Assuming you don’t mind sharing your bungalow.”

It felt as if an iron band of hope was clamped around Cassian’s chest. He stared at his brother. Tried not to blink. Crossed his arms firmly over his chest, protecting his heart. “And you know this how?”

“Nesta spoke with me. We have arrived at a truce, of sorts.”

That must have been what they’d spoken about yesterday on the balcony. He wanted to know more—everything—but Cassian would not press Rhys. If Nesta wanted to tell him, she would. He had to respect that.

So, he bit back his curiosity and grumbled, “About time.”

Rhys clapped his hand on Cassian’s back, but there was something wary in his expression, as if there was something he wanted to say but wouldn’t. Finally, he said, “Patience is a virtue, brother.”

“I’m not the patient sort.”

“You are when it counts,” Rhys countered, and Cassian didn’t say anything because they both knew what he was referring to. Rhys had been the first to know. Had witnessed Cassian in a tangled web of despair and longing and unwanted visions. His brother had immediately put two and two together. Because he’d been there, too. Knew what it was to want someone you thought you couldn’t have. To hope that someone might finally grow to see you in colour rather than in black and white.

Cassian cast another look towards the empty doorway and the quiet hallway beyond it.

A shiver of anticipation ran through him. It was time for them to go home.

***

In the end, Cassian folded to his worry and had Elain fetch Nesta from upstairs. It was time to go, he’d insisted, even though there was no true reason as to why they needed to leave quite so quickly.

“No guesses required to identify why you want to head back to Illyria,” Mor muttered out the side of her mouth, as the creak of the stairs a few flights above heralded the sisters return. Cassian jabbed his elbow into his friend’s ribs and Mor yelped through her grin, even as she had to sidestep, the nudge throwing her off balance. “What? It’s all over your face. You think I can’t read you after five hundred years?”

“Don’t announce it to the room,” Cassian muttered darkly under his breath, “and you won’t find yourself torn to pieces.”

Mor briefly bumped against his arm, the jostle affectionate. Unfazed by his threat, she glanced sideways at him with rich chocolate eyes. “I won’t. We just want you to be happy, you know.”

Cassian’s mouth flattened into a thin line. “Now isn’t the time for a lecture about finding a more suitable mate.”

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. He hadn’t meant for it to happen, hadn’t meant to voice what he’d kept inside for so long.

Mor’s eyes widened, but she wound her arms around his waist. Cassian allowed her to tuck herself under his arm. His friend scented of citrus and cinnamon. When she craned her neck to look up at him, her expression was glowing with sincerity and Cassian realised that she hadn’t been insinuating that Nesta wasn’t right for him at all. “We’re all cheering you on from the sidelines, Cass, I promise.”

The muscle in Cassian’s jaw flexed. He looked away from her, towards the doorway again, unable to help himself. “Don’t say anything.”

She tightened her grip on his waist. “I won’t. I promise.”

“She doesn’t want it.”

Mor untangled herself from him. Shook her head in disagreement. “She does. She just isn’t ready to admit it yet.”

They both fell quiet as Nesta walked through the door with Elain and Feyre. The first thing Cassian noticed was that she scented of water and salt—tears.

Heart pattering with concern, Cassian quickly scanned Nesta’s expression and body language, searching for clues. But Nesta remained close to her sisters rather than apart, her fingers snagged in Feyre’s, her expression not in tatters but smooth and calm, like still waters.

“Ready to go?” Mor chirped from beside him. “I can winnow you back when Sala arrives.”

Nesta’s grey-blue eyes slid to Mor. “I called her on my way down.”

“Then you have time to see the snowdrops you gave me before you leave,” Elain responded eagerly, tugging at Nesta’s arm. “The cuttings took well to the soil. I planted them beneath the shade of the birch trees near the river.”

Cassian watched Nesta disappear into the garden. Surveyed the way a strand of golden brown hair that had escaped her loose braid floated on the breeze, as if it was part of the element rather than separate, as Elain bent to show her the snowdrops.

Yet despite the clear ease to Nesta’s movements, Cassian couldn’t help but ask Feyre whether everything was okay when she came over to hug him goodbye.

“We’re fine,” Feyre assured him, as together they watched Mor tentatively sit beside Azriel on the couch. For once the Shadowsinger’s shadows didn’t lighten, but Azriel still turned to her, drawn by some magnetism as she began to speak with him.

Slim fingers closed around his. Squeezed. “Thank you for fetching the book of fairytales for Nesta.”

The strand of ebony hair that had wrangled free of Cassian’s hair tie tickled the side of his forehead as he inclined his head. That had been a long time ago, when Nesta was a viper that he dared to poke with a stick, just so he could get a reaction. “Of course.”

“You travelled all that way on barely healed wings just to fetch a book.”

It wasn’t just a book, but Cassian knew Feyre understood that, so he only grunted, “Az took me most of the way. He waited to winnow me back.”

But Feyre’s eyes were burnished, as she asked, “Is there anything you won’t do for my sister?”

“It depends,” Cassian replied honestly. Because although he’d rather die than see Nesta hurt, Cassian wouldn’t hesitate to stand up to her when her fire was ill-wrought. And that’s what he liked about the both of them: if he was an ass Nesta told him straight, and he did the same for her. A grin slashed across his face. “Your sister has claws and teeth when she’s angry.”

It wasn’t long before Sala landed on her four large paws in the garden, prompting goodbyes. Mor winnowed Nesta and Sala, whilst Az’s scarred hand closed around Cassian’s arm.

Together, Cassian and his brother passed through realms of shadows and light and raging wings. Then Illyria was taking shape before Cassian bit by bit: there was the sting of winter on his cheeks, the crunch of snow beneath his feet, the scent of pine and untamed air. It felt like that wonderful first heave of your lungs after being starved from air. It alerted Cassian senses—woke him up.

Not bothering to say goodbye for the second time, Azriel bled straight back into shadow, but Mor raised a hand in a parting wave from where she stood beside Nesta and Sala. Her long golden hair caught on the breeze. It tussled behind her like its own puff of wind, before she vanished into nothing.

When Cassian’s eyes snapped to Nesta, he found her standing with her eyes closed, breathing in the wilderness of their surroundings. After a few beats, Sala jumped onto her hind legs, climbing up Nesta’s body with her snow-crusted paws to knock her head impatiently against Nesta’s.

A breath of laughter clouded in front of her as Nesta ruffled Sala’s ears. She murmured something Cassian couldn't identify in the manticore’s ear, before Sala dropped onto all fours and padded through the snow in the direction of the main camp.

Cassian watched the manticore go. He suspected Sala was going to seek out the widows camp and check everything was in order. It was the kind of thing Nesta would fret about—that whilst she was warm and fed, others might not be extended the same courtesy.

Or, the dark part of his mind whispered, she wants Sala out of the house.

You can fuck me wherever you like in the bungalow, Cassian.

The many needles of thrill pierced through him just as Nesta met his stare from across the snow. Suddenly, Cassian didn’t know what to say. His tongue felt swollen and thick in his mouth, words suddenly as viscous as tar. The atmosphere had altered—the aura surrounding them despite the distance suddenly heavy with promise: a change that pointed to something new.

The siphons on the back of Cassian’s hands glowed in anticipation. Nesta merely raised an eyebrow at him. Turned. Walked towards the house just as he caught the thick scent of jasmine and vanilla on the wind.

Cassian’s nostrils flared as it wound around him; invisible ropes of arousal. And then he was moving, following Nesta’s footprints.

His friends had winnowed them to the back of the house, halfway between the small stone outhouse and the backdoor. They weren’t far from the bungalow, but it felt like miles as Cassian stomped noisily after Nesta, his boots compacting the snow as if they were grinding shards of glass into powder.

When Cassian drew up behind Nesta, she already had a hand half-raised towards the door. Even though he wasn’t touching her, she was a whirlpool of warmth. It sucked him in, begging him to line his torso against her back, so when she cursed, realising she hadn’t taken her gloves off, Cassian didn’t hesitate to reach over her shoulder and rest his palm against the wood, encasing her.

The touch of his bare skin—or Nesta’s—was the key to the magical lock. A thunk sounded as the bolt released but Cassian didn’t push open the door—was too preoccupied with the female before him—who had twisted to stare up at him.

As soon as their gazes snagged, history began to knit together in a rush of thread, until it was a tangible, living thing. Because this moment had been written in the stars as soon as Cassian had seen Nesta in her amethyst dress in the human realm; her hair wielded into a mighty crown, her expression haughty and defiant, yet burning with the potential of a life not yet lived. They’d denied that history, even as it waited patiently in the wings. It had watched as they danced around each other, fumbling and snarling their way to this very moment—

They moved in unison. Cassian’s head bowing just as Nesta reached upwards; her body bowing to his, her palms sliding across his jaw until they were around his neck. Their lips met with a force that rattled Cassian’s bones. This wasn't a brush of a kiss. This was immediate and awakening: Nesta tasted like life and breath, like destiny. And yet again, Cassian knew with startling clarity that they were meant for this, he and Nesta. They were meant for each other and nobody could tell him otherwise, including her.

A soft breath whooshed out of Nesta as her back hit the door, but then Cassian was pushing it open, guiding her inside in a whirlwind of noise and wreckage.

The scrape of wood on the flagstone tiles sounded as Nesta’s back knocked against the table before Cassian turned them, his wings grazing against cupboards and the cool walls. Items clattered and shattered, but Cassian used his wings to keep a check on his surroundings, the touch guiding him to the left-hand wall where he could press her against the wall and devour.

Because Cassian could not tear his mouth from Nesta’s. Couldn’t stop tasting her. Couldn’t stop craving the roll of her tongue and the sound of her guttural moans. It fuelled a fireball inside of him; it roared into life in the centre of his heart, before spreading throughout his limbs, rushing through his body until it settled deep in his groin, aching and burning—screaming for relief.

When they finally hit the wall, the thud of their bodies shook the cabinets and the porcelain within it. Without thinking, Cassian took the brunt of it, his hand flying to cup Nesta's lower back and head to purposefully shield her from the hurt.

Because he was coarse and rippling, galloping towards a primal sort of wilderness that Cassian wasn’t sure he could control.

If Nesta was ignorant to the fact or wholly aware Cassian didn’t know. All he knew was that her hands were scrabbling at his leather like dancing flames, tugging him closer.

When he pressed his body over hers, aligning every inch of her to every inch of him, she whined.

Cassian swallowed it. Slanted his mouth across hers. Tucked his wings in tight as every muscle in him tensed in anticipation.

Nesta tasted of chai and vanilla and embers with a destiny to roar.

Another strangled noise came from her throat as Cassian sank his hands deep into the hair at her scalp, coaxing strands free from her braid as his fingers threading through her hair, just as he had done the night prior when he’d coaxed her to sleep. But this wasn’t a soothing touch. This was a touch to startle every nerve ending to life.

Time began to bleed around them, but Cassian only registered the fluidity of the frantic dance they had not learnt. The way Nesta arched into him as his palm slid back to span her waist. The pant of her breath against his skin. His heaving chest. The way his wings began to spread again of their own volition, like a fan unfolding to reveal a secret pattern—as if they were controlled by nothing but the ache of his cock as it strained against the leather of his pants.

As if in acknowledgement that his body was no longer ruled by him, his hips slanted upwards of their own accord. It was a desperate bid to relieve the ache, and his throat vibrated with a thunderous growl as Nesta dug her nails deeper into the leather of his jacket, using it for leverage as she arched into him.

Something turned further inside of Cassian, like a lock beginning to grind as a key turned. And then it felt as if he were plunging beneath water; ducking into the depths and travelling beneath an invisible barrier before emerging on the other side buoyant and surging with power.

Ruby crashed through his veins, like the walls of a dam broken free and… singing light. Magic roared so loudly in Cassian’s ears that he no longer heard the galloping beat of his heart or the sawing of their breath.

Reeling, he tore his mouth from Nesta’s. Her eyes were just as wide, puddles of startled moonlight—endless mercury—and Cassian didn’t need to look down to know that her hands were wreathed in silver.

For a moment they stared at one another. Time slowed until it was sluggish around them and then the feeling receded, as if Cassian was being carried by a wave as it was dragged unwillingly from the shore on thundering feet.

Sound bled back into Cassian’s ears, like raindrops slowly blotting paper. A moan whispered on a wind carried through him, the words fleeting—her name three times, like always—before they dispersed into nothing and ragged breathing filled the hole.

Fuck, they needed to be careful. He needed to be careful if just kissing her led to some transcendental experience. Cassian knew Nesta became open during sex—had seen tumbled images of tangled limbs and heard her moans—and he couldn’t afford to lose her when she had finally let him in. Couldn’t let her down, even though he wanted nothing more than to finally be found worthy by someone.

That twisted rope between them couldn’t widen and strengthen. Couldn’t finally open and click into place with a consensual snap.

Because Cassian had heard stories of mates who had gone to bed. Who had fleetingly accepted what they wanted in their hearts but not in their minds. And after they had both finished and life had been breathed into that bond, only death could sever their Cauldron-blessed connection.

Cassian would not have a mate with regrets, but he didn’t have the will-power to deny himself of her any longer. Not when he could scent how much Nests wanted him. When he could feel it like an unquenchable ache in his bones—an ache which made him tremble and shake. His rocky warrior exterior ground to nothing but sand.

As if Nesta could read his thoughts she tipped her head back, baring the column of her neck.

A resounding guttural sound dragged from his throat. The noise was animalistic and unchained. A booming crack ricocheted around the walls, the muscles in Cassian’s back burning as his wings snapped outward.

Something toppled from somewhere and crashed to the floor, but Cassian didn’t bother to raise his head to look at what it was.

And then time seemed to both slow and drive into a frenzy. Cassian launched at Nesta’s neck at the same time he tugged at her hair, urging her head to fall back even farther.

His lips were against the column of her throat in the blink of an eye; his teeth scraping, his mouth sucking until her blood pounded in his ears. Nesta’s knees buckled but Cassian quickly pinned her body to the wall, holding her up, his knee sliding firmly between her legs…

And… nothing. There was no panic or sensation of being trapped—no sudden fire launching him back thirty feet—but Cassian still tore his mouth from Nesta’s neck. Had to know she wasn’t panicking. “Ok?” he rasped.

A frown burrowed Nesta’s brows. Her swollen lips parted in confusion. Somehow it made her look more beautiful.

Cassian raised a shaking hand to trace it away. “Nesta. Are you ok?”

Understanding dawned like millions of unfurling petals.

When Nesta spoke she was short of breath, the words an exhale. “Don’t hold back.”

Cassian practically arched into her at the words but he made himself remain still, even as his body vibrated with tension. His bones creaked but he held fast.

That stubborn, beautiful chin lifted and Nesta’s eyes glinted wicked yet pure. Always an oxymoron, his Nesta.

“Don’t hold back,” she repeated, her voice stronger this time. She pushed her hips against his thigh and the friction had her lips parting, a shaky breath tumbling from her lungs. “I can take it.”

The words were like slashing knives of pleasure, severing the leash on any control Cassian thought he had.

The subsequent rush of air Cassian loosed was akin to a snorting horse.

Then he was moving and their mouths were fused together again, their tongues a delicious push and pull of control and pleasure before he yanked away.

“Thank fuck,” he gasped. His hands flew to her hips, guiding her to ride his thigh. “Thank fuck, Nesta.”

The friction had Nesta moaning, her fingernails digging so hard into the leather of his jacket Cassian was sure she had dented the material. But he didn’t care. Didn’t care about anything but the living fervour that clawed at them.

His hands were everywhere at once. Tangled in her hair. Sliding over her cheek. Cupping her ass. Attacking the buttons at the back of her dress, until they popped and scattered. Until he could pull the material down her arms, exposing tantalising creamy skin.

At the first sight of her breasts, Cassian growled. He bowed his head to capture a nipple sharply between his teeth before he laved over it with his tongue, smoothing over the wound. He relished the way Nesta cried out. Arched into him. She began to tear at his jacket. It snagged on his wings but Cassian shrugged it off until it hit the floor with a thud.

The first slide of Nesta’s palms beneath his tunic was like oil sizzling in a pan. Cassian hissed as the callouses of her palms scraped deliciously over his skin and scars and ink. Snarled as she made quick work of the stays and fastenings. Tried to focus on her other breast as she inched her hand beneath the tight leather fabric and eased him free.

Fingers wrapped sinfully around him, causing Cassian to snarl around a peaked nipple—to buck sharply—pressing them more firmly against the wall.

“Don’t bother,” Nesta moaned as Cassian wrenched desperately at the fabric of her dress, trying to coax it further down her body. She ground down onto his thigh as it to emphasise her point—her need—and the heat of her burned.

It was all Cassian needed to hear. He fumbled desperately with her skirts until a hand was under the material and sliding up her thigh. Until fabric ripped and her underwear fell away in what Cassian imagined to be a ripple of lace.

In one swift movement, Cassian lifted Nesta’s body upwards, until her legs were gripped tightly around his hips and her back was flush against the wall. Her hands flew to find purchase, grappling at the back of his neck, and when she was steady she raked her hand purposefully through the hair which had come loose from his tie. Tugged at the leather until his hair fell over his face. Whined. Tangled her fingers through the ebony strands as if they were her reigns.

Cassian splayed the hand that wasn’t supporting her body against the cold wall. Tried to catch his breath, but the position evened out the height between them. Just a slight movement would allow him to capture her lips with his, and Cassian couldn’t deny that demanding tug that drove him to devour. Nesta seemed to feel the same way. Moaned in relief as Cassian tasted her as if he couldn’t get enough, gave back as good as she got. Over and over they moved, until they were nothing but an undulating wave of tongue and teeth and groans. The pleasure was a surging, roiling entity. It was all consuming. It overtook Cassian’s body, demanding that his hand drag from her ass straight to her core.

When his fingers slid through wetness, Cassian’s groan sounded like thunderous defeat. He dropped his head to Nesta’s collarbone. Gently pressed his lips to her clavicle. To her shoulder. Tried to ground himself as he slid straight to the spot that made her keen—as pleasure ignited down the bond like a crashing wave. Brushed over it again and again and again. Relishing in the noises he coaxed from her. At the curling fists of desire that clenched agonisingly inside of him.

Cassian had to see Nesta fall. Had to look into her eyes as she broke.

But he wanted to be inside of her when it happened.

Cassian was reaching for his cock at the same time that Nesta let out a broken moan. “Do it,” she breathed. There was no bite of authority in her voice, as if all of the energy she had directed in the pursuit of pleasure had smoothed over the serrated edge of her personality he loved so much, leaving a softer version in its wake. “Please. Just—”

A satisfied snarl ripped from Cassian as he felt her want. And in that moment, Cassian knew there would be nothing gentle about how this was going to play out. It was going to be rough and frantic, riding a wave of pleasure that had been building for too long. Knew afterwards that they would sink to the cold floor in a mass of tangled limbs and mingled breath.

And Cassian wanted that. Had never wanted release so badly in his life.

Something clambered in the back of his mind. Something he needed to remember, but his limbs were moving of their own volition. He didn’t even bother to pump his cock or squeeze it to relieve the tension. Only cared about finally being inside of her.

The heat and slickness of her was sinful and divine when he lined himself up at her entrance. The hand he had braced against the wall came to span her cheek. It relied on Nesta clamping on tightly to his waist with her legs and the press of his torso against hers, but they managed it.

Shaking, Cassian raked back the hair that had fallen free from her braid back from Nesta’s face, just as she tugged him in for a bruising kiss.

There was a moment when everything paused and trembled. As Nesta pulled away and stared at him, her eyes swimming silver—glowing with it—her pupils obscured.

His magic surged at the sight of it. Crashed against his skin as if it was trying to escape. His siphons burned bloody.

“Cassian,” Nesta panted. Despite the keen desperation, there was cushion to his name. Gently, Nesta bowed her head until her forehead rested against his. The gesture was surprisingly tender. It tugged at his heartstrings, triggered his hips into movement as they finally pushed forward.

The tight heat that wrapped around him like velvet was so immediate that Cassian swore. Sweat trickled down his back and seeped into the tunic Nesta hadn’t gotten round to discarding. He trembled as Nesta’s breath stuttered and he felt the burning pain mixed with pleasure as he sunk in an inch. Felt the stretch of Nesta’s body as it strained to fit around him.

Claws dug into his back—Nesta’s nails—biting into his skin, until the metallic tang of blood infused the air.

Cassian’s body stilled before he even had a second to register that he needed to stop. That instinct buried deep to make sure she never hurt.

And then a knock rapped at the front door.

“No,” Nesta moaned. She shifted her hips and Cassian sank a little deeper. That pain flared again through the pleasure and Cassian grip on her turned vice like.

Sense stumbled into his desire addled brain, like a fawn on gangly legs.

But then it righted itself.

Another sharp rap at the door cleared his head completely.

He bowed to bury his face in the crook of her neck but Nesta whined. Tilted her hips again, urging him deeper. “Nesta, stop.”

“No.” Her whimper was doused in frustration, but all Cassian could feel was that sharp needle of pain.

He tried to pull back, but Nesta clamped down around him with that incredible strength of hers. The strength that only seemed to appear at times of desperation or anger.

Cassian’s jaw flexed, his features hardening. “I’m hurting you.”

“You’re not,” Nesta countered, defiance colouring her expression.

“I am,” Cassian retorted, not allowing for a passing beat of their hearts to pass before he replied. “I’m hurting you. Don’t pretend that I’m not.”

I can feel it, Cassian wanted to explain, but didn’t. Knew somehow that if he did they might not end up joining at all.

Desire fogged Nesta’s mind and it fuelled the punch to her next words. “I don’t care.”

Ire punched through Cassian’s desire enough for him to see red. “Well, I do,” he snapped.

Nesta’s nostrils flared at his tone and her eyes burned silver. Cassian wondered how everything had gone southward so quickly—they were on a sinking ship and he needed to patch it up. Knew she felt rejected. So, he kissed her and pushed back that unquenchable ache he felt for her. Knew it hit home because she gasped softly into his mouth, her surprise tart on his tongue.

He pulled out. As soon as his cock fell free that pain throbbed and ebbed. But Nesta moaned all the same.

Moaned again as he drew his head back to stare at her.

She surprised him when her eyes remained open rather than closed off. There was no hard shield. Nothing but want and a vulnerability that made his heart squeeze.

It gave him the courage to do the right thing.

He kissed her again. Trailed a thumb across her swollen lips, ignoring the desire that roared as Nesta sucked it into her mouth, her tongue darting across the top before the bit down lightly.

“This is how things are going to go,” Cassian murmured lowly, pulling his thumb out of her mouth and across her jawline, trailing the wetness all the way to the sensitive spot behind her ear. Nesta shuddered.

“I’m going to get the door and send whoever it is away,” Cassian continued. He paused to let the words sink in. Lowered his head to trace a path with his nose, up the slope of her shoulder, all the way up her neck until his lips were grazing the shell of her ear. “You will go to your bedroom. When they’re gone, I’ll find you.”

Another shiver coursed through Nesta’s body. Her fingers tightened around his neck.

When Nesta next spoke, Cassian knew he’d piqued her interest. “What then?” she demanded.

“Then I’m going to make you come until you see stars.”

Nesta’s entire body froze. For a long moment, she didn’t so much as breathe, but Cassian felt the throb of her blood and magic as it pounded against her skin.

Then, Nesta’s hands worked between them, until her small palms were splayed across his chest. She pushed firmly, indicating that she wanted to get her down. Her body slithered to the floor, her lean legs falling away from his body.

The sudden distance between them felt like miles.

Nesta lifted her chin. “Hurry or I’ll start without you.”

A breath heaved at Cassian’s lungs and he felt his pupils contract, pushing out his irises until they were swallowed by black. The image of Nesta sprawled on the bed wearing nothing but skin, her legs open, a hand moving between her legs had that coil within him tightening to the point of pain.

A growl spiked through the air as another knock sounded at the door.

Nesta must have known she’d wrangled back control, because she arched a cool eyebrow at him.  “I thought you were going to answer the door?”

A dark chuckle forced its way out of his chest, but it was mechanical rather than true. Because there was nothing funny about resisting Nesta right now and his body seemed to know that.

Cassian reached for her before he knew what was happening. Rested his forehead against hers. Breathed once. Twice. “I need to calm down,” he confessed.

Nesta snickered, but the sound fell flat as her breath hitched upwards at the end. It betrayed the effect he had on her, even as she said silkily, “Did the image of me pleasuring myself get you hard?”

“I was already hard,” he growled. He pressed a lingering kiss to her mouth. “As you well know.”

A hand reached between them. Stroked over him—the touch feather light but tantalising enough that Cassian bucked into her touch.

And then cunning words, “Maybe I’ll let you watch.”

A string of swear words left Cassian’s mouth. He yanked back from Nesta, as if someone had tugged firmly on a leash. Tugged up his pants and jerked ruthlessly at the ties until they fastened, trapping his cock back into the leather.

With a growl, Cassian waved a hand towards the living room—to Nesta’s room to the right of it. “Leave before I fuck you against the wall, Nesta,” he barked.

Nesta’s sly laugh skittered over his skin, and without pulling her dress back up to cover herself, Nesta sashayed through the nearest arch and disappeared.

*** It had been Mas and Roksana at the door, laden with bags full of groceries and supplies from the market. With full access to the house, there was no reason why they shouldn’t have just come right in. Which meant Mas had suspected somehow, enough so that she had left the bags on the front step and remained standing with Roksana a few feet back.

“I am sorry Sinta, but the meat might spoil,” the housekeeper had apologised as soon as he’d opened the door, his hair a tangled mess from where Nesta had yanked it free of its tie. He hadn’t had the sense to recover it from the floor, but he had righted his tunic and fastened his pants.

And thank the Cauldron for that, because Roksana peeked up at Cassian with wide eyes from her position of safety behind Mas’s legs. He didn’t know when Lorrian had brought the youngling back to the camp, but Cassian guessed it hadn’t been easy on the two of them to take a little girl out of the warmth and back into the snow.

Cassian tried to soften the eyes that he knew were a little wild. He raked his hands through his hair and sent them his most disarming smile, but there was fuck all he could do about his scent. So he thanked her, trying to keep his voice light and conversational. Ordered her to take the rest of the day off.

To the housekeeper’s credit, she did not linger. Had merely nodded and rushed Roksana back into the snow, towards the main vein of the camp.

Yet, whilst the housekeeper’s interruption had been unwanted, it did grant Cassian some breathing space as he rammed perishables into the cool box. Because even though Cassian would allow Nesta to decide how this all played out, he needed to lay down a rule of his own: he could give her the space to decide what she wanted—for him to prove that he could be what she needed—but there was one thing he could not suffer through.

And if they had stormed ahead in a hurricane of lust; with Nesta’s back against the wall as Cassian pounded into her… Well, it would be too late for Cassian to lay down his one condition once they were sweaty and sated. Nesta was more likely to get up and walk away. To not look back.

Cassian found Nesta sitting at the dresser in her room re-braiding back her hair.

Leaning against the doorjamb, Cassian opened his mouth to explain who had been at the door, but an iron band closed fast around his chest, robbing him of breath.

“What are you wearing?” The words came out of him eventually, entirely uneven to the point of being choked.

Because Nesta was wearing his shirt. It was the same steel blue shirt she’d worn that first day in Illyria. The shirt that was an identical match to her eyes, purchased before Cassian had realising what his subconscious had done. A shirt he’d had to hide away in the spare room because Cassian hadn’t been able to bare seeing it in his closet—of being reminded that his mate was a ghost who had banished him away.

Go home, Cassian.

Nesta met Cassian's eyes in the mirror. Announced with cool simplicity, “You ripped my dress.”

“And this is your way of torturing me?”

An indifferent shrug. “Why wear my own clothing when I know what fate it will suffer?”

Cassian knew his nostrils billowed, but he remained propped up against the doorframe. Pretended he was stuck to it like glue because his body was trembling for him to launch across the distance and claim her mouth. Her neck. Her.

The silence seemed to unnerve Nesta. Cassian knew that from months of living with her. From months of studying her slight tells when her masks slipped.

Right on cue, Nesta reset her posture—a gesture that most people read as defiant. But Cassian knew it was also a sign of nerves. She shrugged with feigned indifference, even as her throat tightened and that damned pulse fluttered temptingly against her throat. “You liked it the last time I wore it.”

Cassian huffed a breath. He had liked it the last time she wore it, even if she’d been so gaunt that he’d worried she might wither away. But the shirt… it had put images in his mind that Cassian had long tried to store away, imprisoned in rock and flame: her in his clothing, not fucking other males but him, her lithe legs wrapping around his waist as he sank deep—

Which brought Cassian neatly to the point he needed to discuss with her…

Nesta’s eyes tracked Cassian in the mirror as he peeled himself out of the doorway and came to stand behind her. When their eyes locked into place, it felt as if someone had punched him in the chest. There was something deep in Nesta’s gaze that made it feel as if he was tumbling down a rabbit hole, that magnetism between them drawing him in like gravity.

When Cassian’s fingers brushed Nesta’s neck—ran down the braid she had draped over her shoulder—Nesta shivered. “You had your hair down then,” he rasped. Didn’t wait for her to protest, as he slowly coaxed the tie free from the end of her hair.

Nesta turned preternaturally still, watched him gently part her hair in the mirror until it fell free from her plait, his calloused fingers brushing over her skin as he coaxed her hair to fall down her back.

The pulse hammering at her throat and the warmth radiating from her skin were the only indications that Nesta was alive rather than stone.

Only when Cassian had finished and lifted his hands from her neck, did Nesta come back to life.

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. But she cocked her head slightly to dissect him. “It’s a nuisance like this. It gets in the way.”

“It’s beautiful,” Cassian corrected, his voice rasping, like sand scraping against skin. He ran a hand through her hair as if to emphasise his point, his fingers running down, down, down until her waist.

When Nesta stood and turned into the warmth of him, Cassian scented what she wanted. But there was something else simmering in her expression—surprise. As if she’d caught the truth in his words and hadn’t expected someone to truly think her beautiful.

She stepped closer, until the lines of her torso ghosted his. Until Cassian’s heart pounded so hard he could hear the frantic tempo of it in his ears. Nesta tilted her head back so she could stare up at him and Cassian’s hand weaved through the mane of her hair before he could stop himself.

He was desperate to touch her again. Desperate.

But Cassian waited. Waited for Nesta to reach up on tiptoes and press her mouth to his.

The kiss was not like their bruised, desperate kisses from earlier. It was coaxing and unsure; the tentative beginning of something that was not merely fuelled by ardour. But it soon blossomed into something more, like a snowball rolling down a mountain blanketed white, gaining speed as it grew and grew—

Dragging his mouth away from hers, Cassian fought for breath. Battled to remember what he needed to do and say. But then Nesta was tugging his head back down again, her fingers tangled in his hair, the gesture indicative of an insistent need that Cassian knew would not go away.

As always, Nesta tasted divine. Addictive. He could taste the curl of her power on his tongue—silver and white, life and death—and he wondered if she could taste his. Knew his siphons were glowing scarlet—

“Nesta,” he murmured hoarsely, her name a caress against her lips. He couldn’t invoke a distance between them, couldn’t stop touching her. His nose brushed hers as her drew back an infinitesimal amount. Closed his eyes. Inhaled deeply, summoning courage. “You can dictate how this goes between us. But if we do this, I can’t—there’s no-one else. Just you and me.”

The subsequent pause was one of the worst of Cassian’s life. It was barely a breath. The blink of an eye. But it felt as if it was malleable and elastic, drawn out by the hands of fate as everything suspended in time.

He didn’t want to open his eyes, but in the end he managed it. Caught Nesta’s eyelashes flutter downwards, casting shadows on her skin. Her fists tightened in the fabric of his tunic, anchoring him to the moment.

She swallowed. Shook her head. Agreed with a conviction he had not been expecting, “No-one else.”

The relief that swooped through Cassian was so fierce it was painful. But he still didn’t dare to believe it.

He caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger so Nesta could not look away. So he could look into the deep waters of her irises and know she was telling him the truth.

But her gaze was steady and unwavering, as he demanded, “Say it again.”

His voice cracked but Nesta didn’t appear to notice. Her grip on him tightened. “No-one else,” she repeated on an outward breath.

A low, ravaged moan sounded from Cassian’s throat. “Diyosa,” he murmured, slipping into Illyrian. Goddess.

“Bruha,” Nesta corrected. She fumbled over the pronunciation but Cassian felt as if he had been an ember that had burst into flame. Witch.

He let out a rough bark of laughter. Then he swore in a long, drawn out moan. “No Illyrian,” he ordered roughly. Pressed his mouth firmly against hers, the kiss searing. “Otherwise this will be over far too quickly.” Another kiss. “And I want to take my time.”

The smile Nesta painted against Cassian’s lips was feline. “You’ve made a lot of promises, General. I hope you don’t disappoint.”

Cassian snarled. Spun her body until her back was cradled against his chest. “I have, haven’t I?” he mused lightly, even though the hammering of his heart must have beat a betraying rhythm against her shoulder blade.

In the mirror, Nesta’s expression grew less poised and controlled. Delight mixed with anticipation clung to her features at this game they played; this tussle for control. She did not try to wrangle free from his hold or shift uncomfortably in his arms at having her back enclosed against his.

It thrilled him—that trust. Enough so that when he met her eyes in the mirror, Cassian found that his irises had been swallowed by his pupils until they were only a ring of chocolate gold.

Slowly, Cassian brushed Nesta’s hair over to one shoulder with his left hand. Traced his fingers down the arc of her neck to her collarbone. Continued a path down the centre of her chest, to the pyrite which glittered between her breasts.

When his fingers met the first button of his shirt, Cassian toyed with it. Purposefully grazed his nose against the shell of her ear. “Shall I start here?” he murmured. “Undress you in front of the mirror whilst you watch?”

Nesta suppressed a shudder, but Cassian caught it. Could swear he felt her blood boiling beneath her skin as he slipped the button free of its hole. Then another. And another. Until there were no more buttons and the material hung free.

Leaning back into his body, Nesta rested her head against his chest. Curved her back slightly so her chest thrust upwards, silently instructing him where she wanted his hands.

And Cassian couldn’t deny her. He turned his palm so it was face up and curled into a loose fist. Brushed his knuckles down her sternum all the way to her bared naval, before bringing it back up. His fingers ran up the side of the material free of buttons, until he was at her collarbone—her shoulder—leaving a litter of goosebumps in his wake.

This time, Cassian snickered when she shivered. Dropped a slow and deliberate kiss to her bare shoulder as he slowly, slowly inched the material down, down, down over her arm. Repeated the motion on the other, until the shirt pooled onto the floor, exposing her bare body to the mirror: endless creamy skin, divine curves, the luscious full weight of her bare breasts, and… lower.

Nesta’s eyes, which had been tracking the fabric as it fell away, snapped to his as a feral growl ripped from him. And she moaned at the expression on his face. Grabbed at his hands, pulling them to her body.

“Touch me,” Nesta hissed, but it came out strangled. Almost pleading. Another crack in her armour as it broke and fell away.

The sight was enough to threaten Cassian to his knees. He guided her body backwards, his hands splaying firmly across her stomach despite her whine, until his legs hit the edge of the mattress

Neither of them broke eye contact in the mirror. Not when Cassian coaxed Nesta down to sit on the bed with him. Not when he pulled her between his legs, her back firmly against his chest. Not when he bowed his head to kiss the slope between her neck and shoulder.

When Cassian finally brushed a thumb over her nipple, Nesta back bowed so fiercely Cassian was thankful he had an arm strapped across her stomach.

The small noise she loosed fuelled his fire and Cassian held on to her. Stroked over that peaked nipple again as Nesta careened into his touch. Followed it with a firmer roll with his thumb and forefinger. Used the fingertips of his other hand to draw slow, tantalising circles across the silken skin of her lower stomach, before he moved southwards…

The air around them hushed when Cassian’s fingers stilled. Anticipation built and only when it vibrated with tension did Cassian slide his hands to cradle Nesta’s hips.

A snarl of frustration, but Cassian paid the sound no heed. Only grazed his thumbs over Nesta’s hipbones. Watched her expression in the mirror—the way her face contorted as she squirmed into his touch as if she was a puppet on strings. Ground back onto him, pressing into that building ache that was bordering on painful.

Fuck, Nesta.

Cassian wasn’t sure if he had spoken out loud or in his head, all he knew was the blessed, fleeting relief he felt as he bucked into the small of Nesta’s back on instinct. He was rock hard and thirsting to be touched, but the thickening scent of Nesta’s arousal pulled his focus.

A groan rumbled from Cassian’s throat as Nesta’s hand darted between her legs. He caught her wrist just in the nick of time. Kissed the heart of her palm. Rumbled into her ear, “Not yet, sweetheart.”

His voice was coarse enough that Nesta shivered, the goosebumps travelling down her skin like a cresting wave. She didn’t struggle against him, nor did she move to disobey him as he dropped her wrist. Instead, she waited, trembling and shaking at every pass of his thumbs over her skin.

Cassian buried his nose behind the shell of her ear. Breathed Nesta in, steadying the drum of his pulse.

Not once did he take his eyes off of hers in the mirror, especially as he murmured, “Shall we find out if you’re wet for me?”

Nesta squeezed her eyes tightly shut, as if the movement would steady her. Swallowed hard. It was so unlike her to take stock, to show any signs that she was rattled, that Cassian softened. He nuzzled at her neck, trailed a line of kisses instilled with promises. A hand flew up to tangle in Cassian’s hair, keeping him there.

“Yes.”

The word stuttered out of Nesta on several staccatos, but she forced her eyes open and met his gaze in the mirror. Watched as he pulled her tighter against him and hooked her legs over his thighs so she was spread wide. Slipped his hand across and down…

The first ghost of a touch had Nesta panting through her nose. The second had her gritting her teeth. The third had her moaning, her back bowing so sharply as he skimmed straight over the place she wanted him the most.

Her head hit the centre of his chest with a resounding thud that had his bones creaking, but she did not look away from him. Seemed to know the game they were playing without him having to express it.

When Cassian brought his fingers lower and discovered just how wet Nesta was, he had to force his wings in tight to his back to hide his surprise. Growled, “You’re soaked.”

Pleasure and embarrassment twisted in Cassian’s stomach, and Cassian wanted to tell her that it was not something to be ashamed of, that he wanted her just as much as she clearly wanted his fingers between her legs.

Her eyes glinted steel, her stare commanding. “Make me come—“ she ordered, but Cassian chose that moment to roll his finger over that spot at the apex of her thighs.

The command bottomed out of Nesta as she inhaled sharply. Satisfaction bloomed inside of Cassian; because he may have done this countless times before but barely enough with her. And nothing seemed to matter apart from him seeking out her satisfaction. Of learning about what made her body freeze with pleasure and what made her come undone. “There?” he murmured into her ear, repeating the movement, before he passed his fingers down further. Until they were at her entrance, playing gently before he drew upwards and circled.

This time, Nesta groaned. Her hips jerked sharply beneath him, tilting, guiding him to just the right place.

Picking up on the cue, Cassian increased the tempo and friction until Nesta’s hips were rolling in a punishing rhythm against the hard length of him.

And Cassian snarled in satisfaction, his fingers tightening around her hip in a plea for her to keep moving—to not stop pushing back on him—because it was blissfully good. The rapid tightening in his groin was almost painful, the cord so tight that Cassian thought it might snap. But he couldn’t stop Nesta, not when she looked so bewitching, the arousal so stark on her face as he stroked and circled and pressed.

Burning pleasure clambered to its peak and Nesta’s eyes grew so heavy they fluttered closed. Something unintelligible left her lips, her head tipping back into the heart of his chest.

When Nesta’s arms wound around his neck, her knuckles accidentally grazing the leather of his wings, Cassian part-snarled, part-roared. Swore. Held her even tighter as his wings snapped out high and mighty behind him. They wrapped around Nesta’s body before Cassian’s pleasure-fogged mind could stop them curling towards her, starved for her touch.

Fuck, he was unhinged. So desperate for relief—in the scent and feel of his mate—that his control was barely there. Enough so that he didn’t react when Nesta reached out her hand—

Sense knocked Cassian for six only when Nesta’s fingers were millimetres from touching the membrane. He drew back his wings so fast  the air around them stormed, but he swooped in before surprise could register on Nesta’s face. Dipped his chin and coaxed her head even further back so he could claim her mouth.

The taste of her lips was as vital as breathing, the scrape of her nails on his scalp grounding. He moaned into her mouth at the same time as she whimpered. His hand was still moving between her legs, interchanging the same three patterns over and over again, mixing things up as soon as Nesta’s moans grew too untamed: he wanted to draw out her pleasure, not sate it with a few choice strokes.

Pulling away, Cassian pressed a kiss to her forehead. Coaxed her to dip her chin until she was looking back at their reflection in the mirror: ebony and golden brown, tan and cream.

Nesta’s irises were wisps of silver, but when he traversed past that bundle of nerves so he could slip two fingers inside of her, they flickered into living flame.

That was indication enough that she liked what he was doing. Cassian had quickly learnt that Nesta became completely readable between the sheets, that mask slowly crumbling away until she broke completely.

Curving his fingers as much as he could, Cassian pressed upwards hard—again and again— revelling in the strangled sounds Nesta made. The way she writhed but tried her best to hold his gaze.

Cassian dropped a lingering kiss to the crown of Nesta’s head. Murmured into her hair, “Is that good, sweetheart?”

The only response Cassian received was a long moan which extended into a whine as he withdrew his fingers. Then a sharp cry as he swept them upwards, swirling them in a well-practiced motion that had Nesta’s lower half seizing in pleasure.

Cassian circled again. Again. Firmer. Faster. Nesta’s cries grew louder, her breathing became more laboured. A silver wreathed hand flew to his forearm—not to stop him, but to keep him there.

Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Don’t stop.

The bond between them creaked and cracked as it expanded.

Nesta panted his name.

“Are you going to come for me, sweetheart?” Cassian scratched out.

In vain, Nesta attempted to burrow her head into his shoulder, but Cassian’s voice dropped out of soft and into the role of general within the fraction of a heartbeat. “Eyes on the mirror, Nesta, or I’ll stop.”

It seemed to take all of Nesta’s energy to fight her leaded eyelids and meet his dark eyes in their reflection. When she did, Cassian’s magic roared and pounded beneath his skin, as if it was trying to break free and join Nesta’s. There was a pressure and power fuelling the sensation that was separate to him. It was like the magnetic force which rules the relentless ebb and flow of the tide—that desperate crash followed by a scrabbling, thundering retreat.

That twisted rope between them grew corporeal, tugging at their ribcages as if it was clambering to remind them both of its existence. Of the cost of this exchange.

Something deepened in both of their gazes, but if Nesta had felt what Cassian had, she gave no indication. She only arched her hips back into his, grinding backwards.

Cassian loosed a rough groan that skittered across the shell of her ear. Her gaze was purposeful but hooded, as if she was in a continual battle with the pleasure weighting her eyelids.

“Good girl,” he praised as Nesta’s eyelashes fluttered from the strain of maintaining eye contact. And then his fingers were everywhere at once and Nesta’s moans fell away to short gasps that rose in volume.

Nesta tightened her fingers around his neck, scrabbling for purchase, for some sort of tether as her pleasure launched high into the air. The hand that had been at her hip, steadying her, encouraging her to roll back on him moved to her breast; cupping and pinching and rolling as she stuttered pants and words that Cassian couldn’t make out.

When Cassian slid two fingers inside of her again and pressed down firmly on her clit with his palm, Nesta’s cry was wild.

“Look at me,” Cassian ordered as Nesta’s eyes flew shut. His voice was resonant—startling—even to him. It punched through the bubble that had encased them—their entwined scent—and Nesta’s eyes snapped open.

For a beat, time seemed to stand still around them. Their gaze fastened back into place and for a moment, Cassian could see a conflict of thoughts swirl in the magic of Nesta’s irises.

He froze just as anguish crashed down that bond, right into the heart of his chest.

It knocked the breath from him. Confusion rattled inside of his head but he came up empty of answers. Had he gone too far? Had he hurt her somehow?

“Sweetheart—“ he started, but stopped. Unsure of what to say because he could still smell how much she wanted this. Could feel how soaked she was. But perhaps that was what the mating bond did. Fooled reason with an overwhelming drive to pleasure and claim.

Cassian went to draw his hand away but Nesta’s hand whipped out, her fingers curling around his wrist. Desperation flooded her next words—the plea in them stark. “Don’t stop.”

As if to punctuate her point, she rolled her hips. His fingers slid over her of her own accord and she stumbled a moan. Light barrelled down the bond and Cassian’s blood spiked, thrilled as he felt the truth of her words, as she ground back into him again.

“Fuck that feels good,” Cassian grunted into her ear. His hips pushed into the small of her back, accentuating his point. It chased the delicious reprieve from the ache in his cock, even as he knew this moment wasn’t about him. As he pulled her back into the solid muscle of his chest, steadying her movements so he could pick up where he left off: so he could watch the pleasure whip away her conflicted expression until her eyes were once again blazing with the promise of flame.

Silver mist climbed from Nesta’s fingertips into the air. It crawled over the glowing ruby siphons across the backs of his hands, past the corded muscle of his forearm and the rolled up sleeves of his tunic, to his chest, his neck…

A sheen of metal shone in Cassian’s eyes, flickering across his irises so they appeared to turn a metallic gold. The lick of Nesta’s magic didn’t burn. It was a rush of heat—the tender caress of a lover’s kiss instilled into his skin over and over again, ascending Cassian to another realm of pleasure, as if he’d climbed a staircase to an entirely new place.

It felt like an extended method of foreplay Cassian had never been privy to before, lighting up every nerve ending until he was so hard he could cut stone.

Gritting his teeth through the pain-cloaked pleasure, Cassian focussed instead on Nesta’s bare skin.

The tempting fullness of her breasts. The way desire had completely rewritten her countenance. The way she whimpered and then cried out.

Cassian sped up his movements. Until his fingers were no longer teasing, but dancing over her with sure, quick movements designed to thrust her towards a crescendo.

Nesta’s magic swirled into flame, the heat of it a licking promise down Cassian’s limbs. He groaned, swore at the exquisite pain on her face as she hung at the precipice, ready to plummet into rapture.

Her climax became a tangible, living thing and Cassian wanted to see it play out for as long as he possible could. Wanted to see her break for him again and again and again.

So, he waited until she reached the summit and when she was there he slowed down his movements. Ordered through her whimpering, “Look at me Nesta.”

Metallic irises met his, and then Nesta was trembling and shaking in fits and bursts as her release ripped out of her like a taut cord cut loose. Cassian drew her orgasm out as best he could, suspending that pleasure until finally Nesta slumped against him, spineless.

She turned her head to bury it in his shoulder and Cassian let her. Stroked her hair. Pressed a kiss to her sweaty head. Murmured, “Good?”

Slowly, Nesta nodded, but for a long while, that was the only communication he received. But Cassian let her recover. Watched the way her ribcage moved as she heaved for breath. Relished the way her body was splayed out over him, her legs held wide open from where they were hooked over his thighs.

Unable to help himself, Cassian brushed over her sex. Delighted in the way Nesta shuddered rather than batted him away. Fresh desire reignited across her expression and Cassian played gently for a few minutes, revelling in the wetness that had gathered from her release.

Finally, Nesta lifted her head to meet his gaze again. “Did I burn you?”

“No,” Cassian replied hoarsely, his heart squeezing at the genuine fear in her words. He let out a rough laugh, passed his fingers lightly over the knot at the apex of her legs for the last time before he withdrew them.

Nesta moaned softly, even as her brow twisted into a small frown.

“It felt good,” Cassian elaborated. He kissed her shoulder at the same time that he pushed his hips into hers as if to demonstrate just how much he’d liked her magic. “I’m being strangled to death in these pants,” he confessed.

When Nesta cocked her head, her hair moved in a golden tangle. Then she smirked. Unravelled her limbs from him and turned.

Nesta slung her legs over his waist so she was straddling him just as Cassian’s hands caught in her hair. A booming sounded as his wings snapped out and fanned behind him, settling like falling fabric.

“We can’t have that,” Nesta remarked, her breath a whisper against his skin.

“No,” Cassian agreed roughly. “It’s your favourite part.”

Nesta snorted a laugh, but it was not derisive. “Egotistical bat,” she muttered.

A slow, smug smile was Cassian’s only reply. Because he was more focussed on her mouth. With the feel of her silken skin beneath his palms as he ran them up her legs and over her rounded ass. His touch was a promise as he tugged her into his body and ground up into her core, the seam of his trousers doing nothing to relieve the damning ache in his cock.

Together they gasped, and then, as always, they moved at the same time, their mouths slanting one another within a fraction of a second.

The heat of Nesta was liquid, the touch of her smoke—feverish and everywhere all at once. It was the same heat that had roared into existence when Cassian had pinned her against the wall earlier, yet… better somehow. Passionate and awake rather than fogged with lust. Life-giving.

A shuddered groan was pulled from Cassian’s chest as Nesta’s hands slid beneath his tunic and met his burning skin. And then the tunic was on the floor—the rest of his clothing was torn from him soon after. It all happened at such speed Cassian could barely keep up, but when Nesta reached for his bare, burning skin—the tattoos on his arms and the faint scar on his stomach—her fingers were gentle.

“Battle scar,” Cassian panted in explanation, as Nesta’s fingers lingered on the silvery tissue that wound over his lower abdomen: a permanent reminder of what had happened to him during the final battle with Hybern. “The trauma was too great for Madja to heal completely.”

“I remember,” Nesta replied shortly and she looked so fierce that Cassian reached for her. Cupped her cheek with his palm.

“Still breathing, Nes.”

Nesta nodded, but when she kissed him this time there was something fierce and desperate about it, her fingers burying deeper into the mane of his hair.

And then a hand was trailing down his skin and closing around his cock. The touch was sinful and a glimpse of the heavens. When he hissed into her mouth, Nesta gripped tighter—until pain laced the pleasure—just how he liked it.

His groan was that of rumbling thunder as she began to move her hand. It was everything Cassian needed, but it was too much, too good. He scrambled to hold on to some sense of control, because he’d never been this close to losing it from just a few touches.

Then Nesta stopped. Glanced downwards—

The realisation thumped through Cassian so loudly his heartbeat punched like a fist against his ribcage.

“Don’t you dare,” Cassian choked out.

Nesta’s eyes shot to his, but rather than looking startled she arched a challenging eyebrow.

“If you so much as try to put my cock in your mouth I’ll explode,” Cassian rasped.

Before she could protest, he was gathering her to him and had slipped a hand down between her legs.

Just the touch of his fingers had Cassian seizing back control. Nesta stilled at the sudden pleasure, as if she was trying to coax time into suspending the sensation.

“Still so wet,” Cassian purred against the tip of her ear.

Gliding his fingers over the centre of her, Cassian paused briefly at the apex of her legs, toying with her clit, before he ran them back down. When he drew his fingers back, rubbing them together and raising them to the faelight, they glittered.

Nesta’s nostrils flared as if she was an animal in heat. And Cassian knew before he spoke that his voice? would be what pushed them over the edge. But he said it anyway, his voice dropping impossibly low,  “Is this all for me?”

Nesta launched at him until their mouths collided, until they were nothing but a clash of teeth and tongues, their skin so flush they may as well have been fused together.

Burying her fingers deeper into the tangled mane of his hair, Nesta tugged sharply. Met his gaze head on. Demanded, “Fuck me.”

All it took was those two words. Cassian moved, flipping them so Nesta’s back was flush against the mattress. He covered her body with his and Nesta whined at the contact, her body bending and arching towards him as if she were a plant and he was sunlight.

Cassian ran a hand up her bare thigh to her ass, coaxing her leg to bend, but Nesta was too impatient. She broke free from the weight of his body, repositioning herself until legs were wrapped tightly around his hips.

An uneven laugh choked out of him. “So stubborn,” Cassian chided darkly, but he allowed his hips to fall into the cradle of hers. Hissed as he loosed his control and thrust so his cock could glide through her centre. “Fuck,” he grunted. “Nesta, fuck.”

Nesta’s breathy whine fuelled the sparks of pleasure that crackled through him like static energy. He kissed her hard. “There’s a high probability I won’t survive this.”

The snort Nesta loosed tried to sound unaffected, but her voice shook as she accused him, “Liar.”

But he wasn’t lying. And Nesta knew it. She had to know it because his walls were now shattered around them in splintered shards.

Yet, Cassian found himself assuring her. “Not lying," he grunted as he passed over her again. Pressed a lingering kiss to her mouth—a parting goodbye as he moved to kiss the underside of her jaw, down the column of her throat. Down further, to flick his tongue and scrape his teeth over both nipples.

He moaned when she moaned; their sounds a chorus of want until he couldn’t take it anymore. Cassian’s claws clipped around the metal of the bed frame at the same time that he pushed off of the palms that were framing her face, until he was on his knees before her.

Despite the desire coursing through him, Cassian’s head was nothing but clear as he slid his hands under Nesta’s ass and lifted her effortlessly, positioning her so that the undersides of her thighs were flush against his knees.

Nesta’s hair was tousled over the pillow, her lips swollen and parted as she surveyed him. When she tried to wrap her legs back around his hips, Cassian held firm. And despite the fact that Nesta listened to nobody, she allowed him to bend her knees and press his calloused palms to the insides of her thighs in silent instruction.

They fell open and a growl rumbled in Cassian’s throat. His hand was fisting his cock, lining it up to her entrance before he knew what was happening. But then he remembered the pain from before. And even though Nesta was more than ready for him, the thought of hurting her made him feel physically sick.

When he moved away, Nesta let out a strangled noise. A hand shot out, closing around his wrist. “You said you’d fuck me.”

Cassian wanted to explain, but that meant alluding to that tie between them, that instinct that couldn’t allow him to see her hurt. Cassian knew Nesta wasn’t ready for that. Knew that if he so much as breathed a word about it that this precious moment would fall away.

And Cassian was selfish. He had to see how this played out. Had to know if Nesta could grow to accept the bond between them—deem him worthy enough to accept something that was Cauldron blessed.

So, he only drawled, “Patience is a virtue, sweetheart.”

One swift movement had Cassian gathering Nesta into his arms. This time, he allowed Nesta’s legs to wind around him. She gripped him like a vice and Cassian knew it wasn’t from fear of him dropping her. When he sat back against the headboard and guided her onto his lap, Cassian expected her to bite out a comment about doing all of the work, but Nesta only let out a pleased sound. Weaved a hand back into his ebony hair. Wrapped a tight fist around his length, twisting once at the tip, before she guided him to her entrance.

Cassian hissed a curse as she closed around the head. Murmured her name into her mouth. Gripped tightly at her hips when she didn’t stop sinking down on him, as he felt that pain mixed with the sweetest pleasure.

“Nesta.” The way he said her name was firm and commanding, but he still had to dig his fingers hard enough into her skin that he was sure it would leave temporary bruises. The thought made him falter, but then that sharp pain flared again as she resisted against him, and he knew that the bruises were a necessary evil. “Nesta,” he barked, “Go slowly.”

Something creaked and cracked between them. A stretching, growing pain reached its fingers down that bond, the sensation strong rather than constricted as it fought to make its way down their usually thin tie.

Nails dug into Cassian’s neck. A whimper sounded in his ears as Nesta fell forwards, burying her face into his neck. “Please,” she whined in frustration. “Cassian—”

She broke off as she clamped down around him and Cassian felt an ebb of pleasure cut through the pain—that promise of something more.

“Don’t make me hurt you, sweetheart,” Cassian pleaded and the rawness in his voice stopped her resisting against him. He eased a hand between them, touched her right where she wanted him. Allowed her to tug his face upwards so she could kiss him. It was infused with desperation and Cassian eased his hold on her hip. Allowed her to lower herself downwards until she had slid another inch deeper. Continued to stroke her until Nesta began to shake.

“I’m going to—,” Nesta gasped against his mouth. Her body trembled and Cassian’s blood roared at bringing her to the edge again so soon, despite the pain. “Cassian—”

Abruptly, Cassian moved his hand away.

Nesta’s snarl whipped around the room, but Cassian smoothed the sound away by fusing his mouth on hers. She stopped shaking but the sharp bite of Nesta’s glare pierced its teeth through his flesh in a flash of silver.

“It will be better if you wait,” Cassian gritted out in explanation when they parted. Nesta’s breath gusted against his skin. “And I don’t think I can hold on if you come so soon. You feel so good, Nesta. So tight.”

As if on cue, Nesta contracted around him and Cassian ground his teeth together so hard that the muscle in his jaw worked. But he let Nesta slide down on him another inch. Then another. And another. Until their hips were finally flush with one another and that pain had bled away until it was nothing.

The moaned words that fell from Nesta were indistinguishable, but he felt her tremor. Felt that surge inside of him as Nesta repeated herself with a whine that indicated she was toppling over the ledge of control, like a glass teetering before it fell.

And then she was moving and Cassian let her. He was unable to think or breathe. Could only focus on the feel of her.

“Fuck,” Cassian groaned. His head thunked back hard against the headboard as she ground her hips into his, testing the feel of him. “This is better than I’d dreamed.”

No soft snicker, only an untamed whine. Then teeth scraping a sinful path down his neck to his pulse.

Cassian’s hips kicked up hard as her teeth nipped.

“Sorry,” he gasped, because even though Nesta had told him not to hold back, he was still concerned about hurting her. But Nesta’s fingernails bit into his skin and her body moulded to him—a delicious second skin—as she inhaled sharply. “Again,” she demanded with a fierceness that did not allow disobedience. “Do that again—”

It didn’t take a second command for Cassian to thrust up hard. And true to her word, Nesta took him all. Did not change her mind and ask him to hold back. Instead, Cassian knew that this was exactly what she wanted—no, needed. She needed this punishing rhythm just as much as he did.

And it felt… incredible. Beyond anything Cassian had ever felt before. The blood roaring in his ears intermingled with Nesta’s cries and the slap of his hips meeting hers, was the only thing he could hear, his senses narrowed down to the sensation of her wrapped around him, so tight …

It was too good. It threatened to break him, to take everything that he was and reform it entirely, as if he was going to shatter and be pieced back together as someone else entirely. The air around them became taut with pressure, tanning leather stretched too tight over a rack, as if their joining controlled one of the essential elements.

“Cassian.” That one word threatened to break him. Not bat or it or you, only his name falling from her lips as if it was their secret. “More.”

Exhaling a curse, Cassian planted his feet firmly on the mattress and thrust up with as much vigour as he could muster. The movement had them slipping from their upright position and Cassian’s claws absent-mindedly closed around the metal bed frame, strapping them in for the ride as his body coiled and tensed as he slammed into her over and over.

Nesta cried out. Grabbed fistfuls of his hair as they moved together as if they had been made for this moment, their wild gasps melded together until they were one.

Only when release teetered too close to the edge did Cassian drop the rhythm. Cupped the breasts he had dreamed of more times than he could count. The breasts he’d had the privilege of seeing bare and glorious only twice before.

Capturing a nipple between his teeth, Cassian scraped his teeth hard enough that Nesta stopped rocking and angled her hips until he was pressing impossibly deep inside her. She whimpered. Clenched and unclenched. Throbbed in a way that told him she was as close as he was—that if he wasn’t so close himself, he could drive her over the edge with a few well-timed thrusts.

The understanding had him letting out a jagged groan. “Are you close, sweetheart?”

A whine in response, but Cassian didn’t let it go. He raked back the hair from her sweaty forehead. Pressed his lips to her swollen ones in a lingering kiss. Watched the frown that knitted her brow as she was overtaken by the feel of them.

“What do you need, Nesta. Tell me and I’ll give it to you.”

Nesta wound her hands around his head, buried her face into his neck. Began swaying and circling her hips in a rhythm that was dictated purely by the chase of pleasure. “Just… this,” she panted. “I just need this.”

Then it was only the licking fire of her breath against his skin. The magic that curled around them like a heated blanket and the building anticipation of both of their releases, which pulled at him like a strange sort of magnetism, begging him to fall with her in unison.

“Cassian—” Nesta began in warning, but he had already felt her begin to quake, as if the ground was moving beneath their feet—the mountains trembling.

That pull became a driving force—a cresting wave of pleasure so profound that Cassian felt that twist inside of him—that signal that he was about to join her.

He groaned, jerking his head back so it collided with wood, the pain grounding him enough that he could say, “That’s it, sweetheart. Come for me.”

As soon as the words left his lips, Nesta broke, as if she’d been waiting for him to ask it of her. Her cry was muffled and Cassian wanted to tear her mouth from his neck—to hear her break for him—but then she was sinking her teeth into his skin right over his pulse.

Roaring, Cassian kicked his hips up hard on instinct as she marked him, but the shock distracted him. Clouded the desperate clamber of his release so he could hold himself back.

Cassian held tightly onto Nesta as she slumped against him. When she lifted her teeth from him, Nesta whined like an animal. Dragged her tongue over the dent she’d made in his neck—once, twice, three times.

He shuddered. Couldn’t help it. Turned his face into her hair. Breathed her in. The gesture was tender, like an animal tending to the wound of a significant other—its mate.

And wrapped in this moment, Cassian could almost believe that this was something more than sex for Nesta as her forehead came to rest on his collarbone. As she kissed the hollow of his throat. Then the knot. His lips.  

“Good?” Cassian asked softly. He lifted a hand to her face, ran a calloused thumb over her cheekbone.

Nesta made a rare, content sound that vibrated through him like a balm. She leant into his hand, her eyelashes swooping down.

When she finally pulled back to survey him, her eyes were still dark. She shifted her hips. Moaned quietly. Rasped, “You’re still hard.”

It was a miracle Cassian hadn’t followed. If it hadn’t been for her teeth in his neck, Cassian would have been wrestling with the embarrassment of finishing too soon.

“I was too preoccupied with your teeth in my neck.”

A flush crept its way up Nesta’s face, like vines reaching their wicked encroaching fingers up a wall. But she raised her chin. “You wanted me to do it.”

It was true, he had wanted her to. And he wanted to do the same to her—to mark her as his so everyone would know that she was off limits for the brief hours before her body healed.

“And what about you?”

The patter of Nesta’s heart broke into a sprint. It was the only thing that betrayed her feelings, her expression devoid of any reaction. “What do you mean?”

Cassian leant forward until their noses brushed. Lifted his eyebrows. “Do you want me to bite you, Nesta?”

Nesta’s nostrils flared. If she had wings, they’d have flung wide by now. Would have collided with furniture and cut through air.

That was answer enough.

In one movement, Cassian lifted himself up and over, until Nesta was on her back and he was pressing her body into the mattress. Breath gushed out of her lungs but it was not from fear, not as Nesta turned herself out bare and tilted her chin for him—for once not in defiance but as an act of vulnerability—of complete and utter trust.

Every instinct in Cassian clambered to the surface, but he closed a fist around it until its life fluttered against the cage of his palms and fingers: his to control, rather than the other way around.

Slowly, Cassian lowered his nose to the exposed skin and breathed her in: her scent and the life that pummelled beneath her skin, the roaring of her blood as it crashed through her veins. It took everything in him not to move inside of her, to thrust up hard and feel the way her breasts would move against his chest.

“I could do it right here,” Cassian murmured, his mouth ghosting over the pale column of her neck until he came across that pulse. He brushed a tongue across it.

The movement was a mirror of what he’d done before in the human realm and Nesta knew it. But this time she did not jerk back from him demanding what he’d done. Instead, her body drew up beneath him, exposing more of her neck, begging for more.

Cassian groaned, raking his teeth over that swell at the same time that he pushed in deep. Nesta’s groan was guttural and everything. His blood turned molten, so hot that he expected his skin to melt away until he was nothing but bones.

“Please,” Nesta panted, her fingers tightening around his back.

Another flick of his tongue over her pulse. “Do you want me to bite you or fuck you?”

“Both.”

That was enough to loosen the fist on Cassian’s control. He sat back on his knees, prying her hands from his neck, coaxing her fingers until they were above her head and clasped around the railings of the headboard. Nesta’s breasts rose with the movement, her peaked nipples so tempting he bent to take one into his mouth. Then the other. Suckled until she mewled and her nipples were no longer rosy but red from his attention.

Cassian lifted his head and surveyed Nesta. Warned her, “Hold on tight.”

And then there was no thinking, no worrying or desperation to hold back. It all came as easy as breathing, their tempo,the snap of his hips and the shift of the mattress as her body shouldered the impact. At some point, Cassian’s body fell over hers, needing to feel every inch of her against him. His wild, punishing rhythm dropped into a rough rocking that was intimate at the same time it was claiming.

Nesta didn’t seem to mind—let out a pleased moan of consent, her legs clamping tighter around his hips until they were flush with hers. When he next moved she whined, and Cassian felt that change inside of her—somehow—that twisting fist of pleasure that glimmered down the bond, pushing against the walls of that thread, pushing it wider and wider, like a heart expanding.

Silver-wreathed fingers tugged his head down until Nesta could claim his mouth, fusing them together so they were complete. Cassian shuddered as her fire cascaded from her fingertips and down his body. His magic, attracted to hers, began to suck out of his pores, but it didn’t leech him of power. Instead, it was like his magic was searching for its mate, desperate to be reunited.

Then that sensation again, as if Cassian had ducked beneath something and had come up for air somewhere else.

Ruby greeted silver like a long-lost lover, blending until their magic was a metallic sheen of scarlet—a fog that misted their bodies, rubbing tantalisingly against their skin as they rocked and moaned their way to release.

“Don’t stop,” Nesta begged desperately through stuttered breaths, and Cassian wondered how many times she’d reached this pinnacle with other males only for it to be taken from her.

Cassian’s hand found its way to her face, his thumb stroking over her cheek as that coiled release twisted across her devastatingly beautiful face. “Can’t,” he panted honestly, his other hand searching for hers across the mattress until he was clasping it—holding on for dear life. “I’m so close, sweetheart. You have no idea how good you feel.”

“Come with me then,” Nesta pleaded. Her eyelashes had fluttered downwards as she took in a sharp breath of pleasure, but now they opened. Stared deep into his soul. “Come with me—”

Then her body turned both loose and taut, clamping yet completely molten as her release ripped out of her.

“Fuck,” Cassian swore. Invisible hands clasped around his ass, tugging him deeper—deeper. Everything in him tightened as Nesta crashed around him, and that siren called to him, singing her name, over and over as pleasure clawed at him, desperate to whip out of him.

Nesta, Nesta, Nesta.

Cassian launched at her neck, his teeth sinking deep enough to claim as Nesta cried out, her body trembling as he continued to thrust into her, wringing out her release at the same time he desperately clambered towards his own.

He managed to pull out just in time, his teeth still deep in her neck, his release spilling hot onto her stomach in bursts of pleasure.

And even though Cassian had vowed to bite her and Nesta had already marked him, he found himself apologising at the red, angry dents in her skin. How was it that he couldn’t bare to hurt her but biting her neck was a completely different story?

“Sorry,” Cassian rasped. His mouth was as dry as a desert as he gingerly touched his fingers to the marks, but Nesta’s fingers clasped around his, halting him. Then she raised her other hand and brushed her knuckles over the identical marking on his. Reminding him that she’d done the same—had been the first to do it.

“I liked it,” Nesta admitted brazenly, but she didn’t stop him from dragging his tongue over the marks. Shivered instead. Held his head to her.

“That was intense,” Cassian rasped eventually against her ear, after the quiet had settled over them like a blanket. He nuzzled at her neck again, unable to help it—just one more precious moment like this until he had to pull away.

When Cassian pulled back to meet Nesta’s eyes, he found that the blue bled back into her irises. “It was always going to be intense,” she replied frankly.

Then Nesta looked down at her body, as if she’d only just remembered how he’d marked her in a different way. “You didn’t have to do that—pull out. I can take a tonic.”

Cassian hadn’t wanted to pull out at all—and neither had that tie which bound them together—but that wasn’t the point. “I’d rather be cautious,” he explained—a little too shortly, because Nesta bristled.

“Neither of us have had a tonic in a while,” Cassian elaborated when Nesta’s expression hardened.

He tried not to think about how his body had been desperate to spill inside of her. For him to press as deep as he possibly could until he was spent.

Climbing off of the bed, Cassian disappeared down the hallway and into the bathroom. When he returned, he was holding a wet towel.

“A while?” Nesta queried, picking up their conversation, as he began to clean her up.

Cassian cocked an eyebrow, but he didn’t dare meet her eyes lest she read him. His shoulders turned rigid at the thought. “Have you been sneaking people in and out of the bungalow that I’m not aware of?” he asked.

They both knew that Cassian would tear any male she brought back to the bungalow to pieces, but neither of them voiced it.

“You go back to Velaris,” Nesta accused. “You visit the other camps.”

For a moment, Cassian stared at her. Did she believe that he’d been fucking other fae? She had taunted him in Velaris the other day, but Cassian had thought that it was just their extended, agonising tussle of foreplay.

Perhaps you should go in search of some female company tonight.

Cassian managed to huff a breath, but it wasn’t one of amusement. He knew that his expression was steely as he said, “I told you that I don’t sleep with Illyrians. And I haven’t been fucking around in Velaris.”

From the way Nesta’s expression darkened, Cassian wasn't sure she believed him.

She opened her mouth to throw back a retort, but Cassian wanted the discussion to end. If she knew he’d barely touched another female since he’d met her, she’d run the other way. It was too intense a confession for someone who didn’t know what they wanted.

“It was self-inflicted,” Cassian supplied, his tone flinty enough to warn her that he wasn’t willing to discuss the subject any further.

Climbing off of the bed to further his point, Cassian extended a hand towards her. Banished any of the rigidity to his posture. “Come stand in the tub with me.”

There was a sinful promise behind the order. Already Cassian could envisage how he’d press Nesta against the tiles, his lips trailing open mouthed kisses as he kneeled before her—

Nesta must have thought similarly, because the pleasure that sparked in his stomach was not his own. But still she studied him, her head cocked as if she was trying to figure him out. Her hair was a muss of golden brown, her skin glistening with sweat that Cassian wanted to lick off.

Nesta parted her lips, taking stock, but Cassian didn’t allow her to speak. “I’ll make it worth your while,” he vowed. Meant it. Because already he was turning hard again, that desire to have her roaring.

He’d known this would happen. Knew that finally being inside of her wouldn’t sate him but stoke the embers into flames. But Cassian didn’t hide it—utterly unashamed of this need for her. From the way Nesta’s nostrils billowed, he knew she'd marked the change in his scent.

Nesta’s eyes flicked to his cock and the she-devil smirked, her lips curving in a way that had Cassian thinking about how they might wrap around him—how her tongue might feel, how warm she’d be…

In one supple movement, Nesta stood. Took his hand, her slim fingers threading around his large ones. Raised her chin and levelled him with a smoky blue gaze that promised wicked, wonderful things. “Then lead the way, general.”

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