#boss: tank leaked. go pump it out. i turned the line on

[abluescarfonwaston]

Fuck me its too hot to work.

[apocalypticgargoyle]

racer!sapnap road head pog¿

pog.

this is kind of a subchapter ig bc nothing really happens to continue on the story but I figured I'd give it to you anyway :) im so down bad for him it’s embarrassing. if you know me irl no you don't 

𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑. 𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐫!𝐒𝐚𝐩𝐧𝐚𝐩

pairing: street racer!Sapnap x fm!reader

cw: oral (m. receiving), thigh riding, degradation (slightly), spit cum and rock and roll, language, semi-public sex, sir kink?, okay shut up its just filth tbh

wc: ~2380

collaborative playlist (add your songs :))

previous part

Sapnap ran his fingers through his dark hair, moving to rest his arm along the back of the bench seat, his hand brush against your shoulder softly. His other hand settled lazily on the thin steering wheel after turning up the radio a few notices. You swirled your tongue against the strawberry sucker between your lips, trying to quell the burning frustration you felt at his words.

“Suck on this and be a good girl while I’m on the phone,” he had said, answering his ringer after pushing the treat into your mouth.

He’d hung up the phone at least ten minutes prior yet you were still pouting at his nipping, cocky tone as you took the candy without sassing him. Sapnap never drove cars that were as old as the one you were in now, but he had asked you to tag along during one of his deliveries for his boss. You were curious which vehicle you would be swapping the tank for but, at the same time, you appreciated the bench seat and the airflow from the open windows.

Despite its age, the leather seats and detailing made it feel like the two of you were in some kind of old gangster movie, even though Sapnap was only in jeans and a t-shirt.

You slid across the seat, tucking yourself against his side as he wrapped his arm around you. You pulled your knees to your chest and he pressed his lips against your temple, stepping on the gas a bit more as he sped down the road. Your hand moved to rest on his thigh, slowly sliding your hand down the inside of his leg. You could see him smirking out of the corner of your eye as if to dare you to continue.

He started to hum to the radio as your nails raked down the denim, resting your head in the crook of his neck. He seemed to not be affected by your antics but you noticed his knuckles flush white as he gripped onto the steering wheel, giving away his subtle restraint.

You leaned back slightly, pulling the sucker from your mouth as his eyes darted to you before you stuck it in his mouth. “Hold this for me,” you muttered, watching as his teeth bit down on the stick as you palmed him through his jeans. Your other hand ran into his hair as his hold on the steering wheel tightened, his lips curling into a small smirk.

You sat off of him for a split second, tying your hair back as he shook his head with a small chuckle, forcing his eyes to remain glued to the road ahead of you. You pressed your lips to his neck, unbuttoning his pants and slipping your hand into his boxers, earning a groan from him. “Can I suck on something else to keep quiet?” You joshed softly as he shifted to give you a better angle. He inhaled sharply as your hand wrapped around the base of his cock.

You moved to sit with your knees against the leather, his hand hooking around your ponytail as you pumped your hand over his length, earning a moan from him. You looked up at him with what doe-eyes you could muster, attempting to hide the lust and deviousness behind your antics. He looked down briefly at you as he shifted gears lazily. “Am I going to be too distracting?” You asked, realizing he had stopped at a red light. He barely shook his head, sending a small wave to whoever was in the car beside the two of you.

You dug your teeth into his thigh and his fingers slipped beneath your ponytail, knotting in your locks as you quickened your hand. You moaned as he tugged at your hair, pushing yourself closer to his lap as the car began to move again. You were thankful he was a smooth driver or you would be thrown to the floorboards. That goes without saying that he wouldn’t slam on the breaks if you tried any funny business.

He pressed his shoulders against his seat, a low groan grumbling from his chest as his arousal grew in your hand. You pressed your lips against his tip, letting your tongue tease his sensitive skin. You pushed him into your mouth, gauging his size as you bobbled your head over his cock slowly, not yet taking him completely. The rush of power pulsed through your veins as he throbbed at your touch, your tongue swirling against what you could reach of his shaft.

His hand moved from its rough grip on your hair to rest in the crook of your neck, seemingly wanting to feel your throat straining to please him. You pulled off of him, swallowing as your hand bobbed against the slickness of your spit and his precum. He made a turn, hand steady as if you weren’t pressing your elbows into the expensive leather and literally stroking his ego.

You licked your lips, regretting your lipstick choice as you saw it smeared against your hand and his cock, despite the fact that you had only just begun. You took him into your mouth again, hollowing your cheeks the best you could as your hand moved in tandem with the song. His thumb brushed against the back of your neck softly in quiet gratefulness of your work. Your tongue swirled designs against his dick as you attempted not to choke on him.

You felt him shiver as you moaned around him. “Baby, just like that,” he cooed. “You’re taking me so well. My good girl.” His voice was gravelly as he spoke, teeth still holding the sucker as his eyes flashed between you in his lap and the road in front of him. Heat spiked through your body at his praise, the flush that was already there from the temperature in the car adding to the warmth between your legs.

You took him further down your throat, slipping him between your lips as you pulled off before taking a few centimeters more as you repeated. You were hell-bent on your mouth reaching his base, already tasting the worship he would give you as you did so. Your spit leaked against your hand, making your descent easier as your eyes watered from the pressure on your throat.

“Fuck, don’t stop,” he moaned, his hips tensing under you as he struggled not to buck into your mouth. Your tongue curled against his shaft, sucking him harder. The taste of him was beginning to overpower that of the lollipop as he strained against finishing, his cock hard in your mouth and hand. Tears striped down your cheeks as you held him in the back of your throat before bobbing your head back, his hot pleasure coating the back of your throat as he let out a low moan of your name.

You realized then that he had stopped. You pumped him a few more times, earning a snide comment from him as you looked at your slick hand wrapped around him and the damage that you had done. Before you could sit up, his hand wrapped around the back of your neck, keeping you in place. “Nuh-uh. Clean me up,” he commanded, his dominance sending a wave of pleasure throughout your body as you readily heeded to his demand, licking up what you could as if was the elixir of life.

You sat up, crawling over to straddle one of his legs and pulling the bare stick from between his teeth, tossing it out of the window. You pressed your lips against his hungrily, his arm wrapping around your waist to drag you against his denim-clad thighs. His other slipped beneath the hem of your shorts, nails biting into the flesh of your legs. The taste of him blended with the artificial strawberry flavoring as his tongue pressed into your mouth with a moan.

You rolled your hips against his legs, letting the friction swim into your thoughts as you broke the kiss. Your hand wrapped around his cock again, stirring up his arousal once more. His cheeks were flushed with a soft pink as a result of the hot summer day and what you were doing to him. He dug his face into the crook of your neck, sucking dark marks into your skin to show how much you belonged to him. You tilted your head to give him more space, moaning his name softly as his hand moved with your hips encouraging you to get off.

You sped up the pace of your hand, making him groan against your skin as he stiffened. His voice was deep and velvety in your ear as he wrapped himself around you. His tongue pressed against your neck, the breeze from the windows reaching into ghost against his marks. He bounced his knee as if dead set on getting you off before him as you ground against him like a horny teenager. “You’re my good little slut, aren’t you?” He bit, menacingly as you let out an almost pornographic moan at the friction. His arm tightened around you, driving you further up his leg as your thumb swirled over his tip, collecting what you could of his cum and dragging it down his length.

You tugged your lip between your teeth, your other hand threading your fingers into his hair and tugging lightly. “I’m your good little slut? Am I making you feel that good, sir?” You teased, stifling a moan in his t-shirt as he lapped at your collarbones, chasing the high you were bringing him to with your hand again.

His teeth nipped threateningly against your skin. “Fuck, don’t berate me while you’re riding my thigh,” he nearly growled. As if proving some kind of point, his hips jutted into your hand, driving against you harder as you whimpered at the feeling between your legs.

His hand dipped beneath the stitching at the slightly ruffled bottom of your shirt, fingers digging into your skin to leave more of his markings. You were lucky he would be the only one seeing those placements besides you. You couldn’t imagine how it would be for someone else to see the various teeth lines and bruises. He probably felt the same after you always littered his body in your makeup and nail marks. “Would you rather me be more vulgar?” You mustered, voice uneven and needy as you shamelessly thrust your hips against his leg. You felt his cock throb again, his second orgasm easier to conjure than the first as his face flushed at the stimulation.

He moved one of his hands to tug at your sleeve, pressing his lips against your freshly exposed skin. “Tell me what you want instead,” he groaned. “You look so cute. I wanna hear you whine like the little slut I know you are,” he muttered darkly.

“I want you to cum all over my hand,” you moaned, digging your face into his shirt. “I want you to make a mess of me. Please, sir,” you whined. His hand moved from your arm to the crook of your neck again, tugging your lips to crash against his in a burn of neediness. You moaned at the taste of strawberry still on his lips, dragging yourself against his leg as he bounced his knee, making your climax spark through you without warning. As your hips stuttered against him, your hand pulsed around his cock. Swallowing your whimpering moans, Sapnap came, his sticky finish painting your hand again as he groaned.

You leaned against the hood of the car, watching as Sapnap and an unknown man discussed prices that Sapnap’s boss was asking for. You popped the gum in your mouth, finding that you would much rather be tasting Sapnap on your tongue as he crossed his arms. The man handed him an envelope of cash, which he flipped through easily as if he had done the task millions of times over.

The man flashed a toothy grin at you as you tucked your hands behind your back, looking small compared to Sapnap’s frame. Sultry images flipped through your head knowing that Sapnap looked like he could break you over his knee. “That pretty thing come with the Mercury?” The man asked. While you were busy gushing over Sapnap, you hadn’t realized the man was sizing you up like some kind of meat.

You wrinkled your nose as if to question his sincerity. Without looking up from the envelope, Sapnap chimed, “Make a comment like that again and I’ll drag you behind the ‘65 Catalina by your intestines.” His voice was even and deadpanned, making your eyebrows raise as you bit back a sardonic grin. The man closed his mouth into a tight-lipped frown as Sapnap barely looked up to toss him the keys to the car the two of you had brought.

He turned, stuffing the envelope into his pocket and gesturing two fingers for you to follow him. As you jogged to join his side, he wrapped an arm around you, sliding his hand into your back pocket as the man yelled a defeated salutation after the two of you. “I’m not letting anyone talk to you like a toy,” Sapnap bit, sending you a smug grin.

You almost stripped out of your shorts for him there, yet instead, let him tuck you to his side. “You talk to me like I’m a toy, Sap,” you quipped back, disguising the fact that you secretly liked it. His confidence and the ease he had at defending you had your head spinning.

He chuckled darkly. The two of you approached another vehicle, a sleek, black Corvette gleaming at you as he opened the passenger door. He leaned his arms against the open window frame as you slid inside. He closed the door behind you. “That’s because you’re mine to play with. Not Bumfuckville Kenny,” he leered back, bringing a blush to your cheeks before he pressed his lips to yours briefly. “I treat you like a lady when you’re not begging for my cock, anyway,” he clarified with a cocky tone, sending you a wink before walking around the front of the car, leaving you hot and worked up again.

Tag List: (to be added, follow this link :))

im going to try to have a separate list from regular Sapnap pretty soon, so make your accommodations :)

@bobbyftmydad @pluto-dizzz @more-like-reyna @deepestofwaters @marrymetheonott @froggyy06 @ghoulandghost @marshmallow-babe @drunkpumpkincake @unstableye @tinyegg @shroomieissmall @mintmochiii @clubfairy  @camerondiaz48104 @madsbbg @simpforblockguys @alm334 @valkyrieidunn @idiotinnit @generallysleepdeprived @sacvf @phsychopathetic @pixelbxtch @froggerrrr @ribbitsworld @jemalovesmarvel @sbi-is-my-onlysanity @victoria-a567 @miiilliiee @bunnylotl @thegirlwhowritesawksh-t @carlyferrell @dumb-chaotic-bi-energy @quivvyintheclouds @sarcasticmichelle @book-of-anarchy @lightdreamy @furiouspockettoad @baddiesforcorpse @b00bm1lk @sunnynapp @fantasy-innit @wreny24 @thewintersoldier25 @setsunaisprouts @cdizzlevalntyne @jarofbumblebees @lightdreamy @sacvf @kiritokunuwu @sunnynapp @stxrryb1tch @rat-poisin @driverpicksthe-music @hiccupofttea @honk-izzie-was-taken @wreny24 @thewintersoldier25 @deepestofwaters @fratbro69 @exenestea @glowstick-cafe @indecisivehusky @simpforblockguys @fallxnly @twist3dtinkerbell @karlkitten @dolcesnightmare

[hentext2-blog]

Paradise In A Name Ch. 1

“Come on, come on, you need to dodge!” David Ayubbid Solomon screamed into his microphone. At twenty-two years of age he had reached his full height of nearly six and a half feet and built like a tank, the blonde haired young man was a study in contradictions. His copper skin had come from his mother’s side of the family, while his enormous build and brightly colored hair was a testament to his father’s Scandinavian heritage. His father had been working as a body guard in Iran in the early seventies when he had fallen in love with his boss’s sixteen year old daughter. Back in the United States, the difference in their ages would have made it an enormous scandal, but in Iran, the only question was whether her father would have approved. Fortunately, David’s mother was the third daughter of the Sheikh Lahijani’s fourth wife, and therefore wasn’t as socially valuable. That, and it gave David’s parents a good reason to evacuate his grandfather, his wives, and roughly fifty or so of David’s cousins back to the US when the Shah fell.

Forty year old political disputes weren’t of much interest to David, however. What did have his attention was the three headed, six armed, fireball-hurling demon that was about to destroy his guildmates.

“I said dodge!” David screamed again as his digital avatar threw up a glittering blue shield. Orange pixels exploded across his screen as the demon’s attack slammed into his defenses. Even then the little green bars that marked how well his party was continued to slowly dwindle. The demon’s own health was hovering at fifty percent, recovering at a rate just about equal to the damage they were doing.

“We are dodging!”

David heard the words twice, once in the headphones wrapped around his skull and once from the far side of the studio apartment where his best friend and heterolifemate Samuel was equally as glued to a computer. The two boys had been working with their guild to tackle the longest dungeon in their favorite MMORPG, Dragon War Finalis. They had been at it for more than eight hours, though that was counting the two hour long breaks the entire guild had taken for food and bathrooms.

“Well, try not dodging into the fire dumbass!”

David laughed at the sound of feminine outrage. Christine Roberts was their guild leader, and it had been her idea to tackle the dungeon in the first place. The pixiesh redhead was both funny and intelligent, and David would have asked her out a long time ago, if only it weren’t for the fact that she lived in New Mexico rather than his native Ohio.

There was a chorus of laughter from the rest of their guildmates, even as the demon began charging up a new attack. All six arms were raised skywards as the largest ball of fire yet began to swell above the demon’s head.

“DPS, now, now, now!” Christine shouted as her elvish archer popped out from behind the pillar she had been using for cover and began pumping as many arrows into the demon’s face as she could manage.

“We only have ten seconds!” Sam wailed as his mage popped up as well. He started hurling low level ice bolts at the creature’s shins, unable to rely on the higher level fire spells he normally used. The shards of ice flashed over the heads of two armored clad figures hacking at the demon’s ankles.

“Six ... five ... four...” David counted, his figure hovering over the button for his shield spell. “Three ... two ... go!”

Sam and Christine both rolled to a stop at his feet as he slammed the trigger for the shield spell. Demonic laughter echoed in his ears as the demon threw the screen-filling ball of fire directly at its feet. The two knights tried to get out of the way, but there wasn’t enough time. Agonized screams were cut short as the two knights were turned to black ash, their avatars temporarily deleted from his screen. The blue sphere snapped tight around mage, cleric, and archer, but even its protective magics weren’t enough to keep them unscathed. David watched with frustration as their health slowly drained away, leaving behind flashing red warnings.

“Fall back!” Christine ordered as the flames died away. She, David, and Sam scrambled back to the edge of the temple, where a flashing red circle marked the edge of the encounter. The demon laughed again as they crossed the line, then turned around and started to stomp back into the darkness, its health bar slowly refilling.

“Crap, we almost had it!” There was a dull thump in David’s headphones as hundreds of miles away she slammed her fist into her desk.

“We’ll get him next time, Christine,” David said soothingly as he tilted his head back and closed his eyes. His body ached from sitting in one place for so long. “Hell, we’re not supposed to have even gotten this far!”

“He’s right, you know,” Angela Anotiz said as her knight re-manifested next to the others. Her husband George played the other knight, who was still missing. “We’re still ten levels shy and half a guild short. The fact that we got him down to even half his health bar is impressive!”

“I know, I know!” Christine answered. David could tell that she was pouting. Finally, Christine sighed and asked, “Do you all want to try one more time, or should we just call it here for the day?”

Angela’s knight shook his head. “I love you girl, but I’m beat. And we need to pick up Lisa from George’s sister in thirty minutes. So we’re going to call it here.”

“Ah, the perils of parenthood,” Sam moaned. “Let it not be said that there is no greater killjoy than having kids!”

“And you just want until you have some yourself!” Angela scolded him.

“You know I kid, Angela,” Sam answered with a grin. “Say hi to the rugrat for us.”

“You got it! Night, guys!” There was a click as Angela signed out of their chat and a moment later the knight vanished.

“I think I’m going to bug out as well,” Sam added as his avatar vanished. “Scary as this sounds, I think I need some fresh air. I’m going to go head to the park and watch the joggers bounce by, maybe scope out a yoga class or something.”

“Perv!” Christine laughed.

“Hey, a man has needs!” Sam protested. “In my case, I need to go look at fine looking women until I’m stupid enough to say something that will get me slapped!”

“Go have a fun, man,” David called out as Sam got up behind him and headed for the door. It slammed shut behind him loud enough that David’s mic picked up the noise.

“Hmmm, so I guess that just leaves the two of us,” Christine said huskily.

“Looks like it,” David answered. He had to fight to keep his voice level, as he had an idea where Christine was headed with things. His cock was already beginning to swell.

“I don’t suppose there might be a camera attached to that microphone?” Christine asked, even as David’s computer started flashing with the pop up for an incoming video chat.

“There is at that,” David answered as he clicked on the pop up. He was immediately rewarded with a shot of Christine leaning back in her own chair. The redhead was dressed in a faded t-shirt and a pair of baggy gray sweatpants, a perfectly relaxed outfit for a day in gaming.

“Mmm, so I’ve been thinking about our little gaming arrangements,” Christine purred.

“Oh?” David was deliberately trying to feign feigning interest. “And what about them?”

“Well, you’ve always been just such team player,” Christine answered breathily. She lifted her shirt up over her chest so that her bare tits were on display. They were modestly plump, topped by dark red nipples the color of ripe cherries. She leaned in closer to her camera so that he could watch her roll them between her fingers until they were good and heard.

“Well, it does help that I play the healer,” David said as he unzipped his jeans and lifted his hips to slide them down his legs.

“Well, I was thinking, good teamwork deserves some sort of reward,” Christine continued. Her eyes were half lidded as she slid one of her hands past the waistband of her sweatpants. “So, what I’d like to do is sort of ... help you prepare for our next raid.”

“Mmm, and just how were you planning on doing that?”

Christine smiled naughtily. “Well, I was thinking that while the others were gearing up, selecting their spells, that sort of thing, that I might crawl between your legs and just sort of ... you know.”

“Actually, I’m not sure I do,” David shrugged innocently.

Christine pulled her hand back out of her pants and held it up to the camera to show him how wet they were before going back to fingering herself. “Well, obviously I’d have to start by taking off your pants. Once that was done, I figured I’d work on getting you nice and hard. I’d start by running my fingers up and down the inside of your thighs as I kiss my way down your stomach. Once I reached your waist I’d wrap my hand around your long, stiff cock and slowly start to stroke it up and down until it was nice and big. And then...”

“And then?” David grunted. He tilted his camera down towards his lap, so that she could watch him jerk himself off.

“Why, I suppose by then you might have a bit of precum leaking out the tip,” Christine answered. Her eyes had grown wide as she watched him fondle his penis. “We wouldn’t want to make too much of a mess, so the only fair thing for me to do would be to lick you clean. Of course, if you kept leaking after that then I’d have to take some more drastic steps. I’d wrap my lips around that huge, thick dick of yours and suck it deep into my mouth. Then I’d just have to suck and suck until I could feel you getting ready to burst. And then do you know what I would do?”

“What would you do?” David demanded hoarsely. The thought of her hot little mouth wrapped around his cock had fueled more than one of his dreams. She’d shown him once just how deep she could take a man by fellating a Popsicle. He had absolutely no doubt that she’d be able to take him to the root.

“Why, I’d stop of course!” Christine grinned at him. “I mean, we don’t want to make a mess, after all. I can only imagine how much cum a dick as big as yours could store up. I bet if I sucked just a little too long, then you’d flood my mouth with your hot cum. It would just come spilling out over my lips, until it was dripping down my chin. There’d be no way to swallow it all!”

“What. Would. You. Do.” David grunted.

Christine’s hand ground against her clit as she panted, “There’s only one thing I could do. I’d have to climb out from under your desk and onto your lap. I’d take your fat dick in my hand and shove it into my tight little cunt, slowly sliding down your cock as you stretched me open. I’d start to bounce up and down, feeling you bottom out each time. My nails would drag down your back as your cock pushed me closer and closer to orgasm. The others would want to know what was going on, want to know what that panting sound was coming over the mics, but we’d be too lost in each other to tell them. My cunt would clench around your cock, eager for you to come deep inside of my pussy. I’d moan, begging you to fill me with your hot spunk. Go ahead! Show me how much cum you would pump into me! I want to see it shooting out of your cock!”

“Fuck yes!” David shouted. His hand was a blur as he jack his cock. He could feel the pressure beginning to build at the base of his cock, and he knew it was going to be a big one.

“Come on baby,” Christine moaned. “Cum for me!”

“I’m ... I’m-”

DING DONG.

“Shit!” David groaned. He was almost there, just a few more moments!

DINGDONGDINGDONGDINGDONG.

“You should probably go get that.” Christine moaned with disappointment.

“Fuck!” David quickly hiked his pants back up as he hopped over to the door, where someone was still frantically hammering his doorbell. He paused just long enough that his hard on wasn’t that obvious, then yanked the door open and snarled, “What?!”

If the delivery driver on the other side of the door noticed that he was about two minutes from death, he didn’t seem to care or even show any emotion at all. Instead he just popped his chewing gum and thrust a package into David’s arms. “You gotta package. Sign here.”

“I didn’t order anything,” David protested as he looked down at the packing slip. The package had apparently started in Iraq. Who the hell did he know in Iraq?

“Don’t care, this is the address on the package, you opened the door. Sign here.” The driver thrust an electronic signature at David, forcing the blonde to tuck the package under his arm as he scribbled a line of gibberish across the pad. The delivery driver didn’t even bother to say thanks or check the signature line before turning around and heading back down the hall.

David was still frowning at the box as the door closed behind him. He placed it on the desk in front of his computer as he slipped back into his chair. On camera he could see that Christine had lowered her shirt back down over her tits and had started to straighten her hair by using the camera as an impromptu mirror. She looked puzzled when her main view turned a fuzzy brown. “What’s that?”

“Not sure,” David answered as he took another look at the packing slip. Now that he had time to read it line by line, he saw that it had a couple of military custom stamps on it. That made even less sense. Who did he know that was both in the military and in Iraq? There was only one way to find out. David grabbed a nearby pocket knife and started slicing through the heavy brown packing tape.

The answer lay in the plain white envelope that sat on the top of a thick layer of Styrofoam peanuts. The signature on the front of it was easily recognizable. “It’s from my cousin, Sahar!”

“The one who wanted to be an archaeologist?”

“Yeah...” David’s voice turned soft as he remembered his spunky younger cousin. Sahar had always been a bit of a pain in her parents’ sides. They were both much more traditional than David’s own parents, which wasn’t all that surprising since Sahar’s father had been born of Sheikh Lahijani’s first wife, and therefore his grandfather’s primary heir. While the Sheikh had been surprisingly progressive for a man of his position, at least as far as his children marrying foreigners went, his first wife had been anything but, and her attitudes had been very firmly beaten into her son when he was younger. Neither had taken to America very easily, and preferred to live on one of the Sheikh’s more secluded estates in New York, the same where David had been born and raised. Sahar’s mother had basically been sold into bondage by her own family, who had been more impressed by the Sheikh’s wealth and status, even if he had effectively been exiled from the home country, than they had been concerned for their daughter’s well being. Completely beholden to her husband, she had offered her daughter little comfort, and so Sahar had spent as much of her time as she could with David and his parents.

As a result, Sahar was as American as she could possibly manage. When her father and grandmother had been planning an arranged marriage, she had fled to college under a secret fund arranged by her grandfather, who wanted his children and grandchildren to enjoy their new lives. But while Sahar had wanted to leave the trappings of her traditionalist family behind, the myths and lore of ancient Persia never ceased to fascinate her. In the end, she ended up devoting her studies to the past, earning a Master’s in Archaeology, with a focus on Middle Eastern history. But the last David had heard she was pursuing a Doctorate in California, so what the hell was she doing sending him a package from Iraq?

Dearest David,

I hope this letter finds you well. I imagine that receiving this package will come as a bit of a surprise to you, but I did not dare tell you or your parents about my plans to travel to Iraq until after I had left the country, for I knew your father would keep me from going. My father and grandmother always tried to force me into obedience, but their heavy handed discipline simply drove me away. Uncle David is a much kinder man that, and also a much smarter one. I know that he is fully aware of what the actual conditions are like in the Middle East right now, and if he had learned of my intentions he would never have attempted to discipline me; instead, he would simply have kidnapped me from the airport and locked me in the basement until I was old and gray!

Several months ago several recruiters from the army came around to the campus, looking for volunteers. No, cousin, I have not shaved my head and run off to play G.I. Jane. They were looking for archaeology students who would be willing to travel overseas and work several digs in what very closely resemble active combat areas and to help them combat the smugglers who are trying to sell off the country’s heritage. It was an offer too tempting to refuse! Going on a dig under any other condition would have involved ingratiating myself with this or that professor, and then wheedling the money out of the university to pay for our trip and equipment. Instead the government has paid for everything, and while the sleeping bags are not the most comfortable and the food is somewhat bland, the tools are more than adequate and we only have to deal with the occasional mortar attack.

Oh, but I wish I could see the look on your face as you read that last sentence! In truth, the dig they have me working on is very close to the Kurdish held territories. The only guns I have heard fired have been those of men hunting or celebrating weddings and other such things, and even then they are often at some distance away. Our camp is technically still inside the Iraqi border, and is under the control of the U.S. I cannot write where, exactly, for I am told that if I did they would simply censor the letter. Simply believe me when I say that I am quite safe from Daesh and its butchers.

The work has been hard, and though we have not had any major breakthroughs, extremely satisfying. There is nothing quite so incredible as slowly unveiling some ancient piece of history and once more returning it to the light of day. Much of what we handle has been dated back to the years of the Crusades, and early results indicate that some of it may even been associated with Saladin’s early rise to power. I greatly hope so! I remember many of Grandfather Lajihani’s stories about the great conqueror who once rid our homeland of western invaders and would love to take some the pieces home with me for my own personal collection, even as I recognize that this makes simply one of the newest invaders to wage war in our ancestral lands.

Oh, but I also have a gift for you! I had volunteered to assist the army with some of their translation work as well, as it gave me the chance to personally question some of the locals about the history of the area. I was speaking with one of the local clan leaders, and when I mentioned that Grandfather was Sheikh Lajihani, the clan leader became very excited. He asked me many questions about where we came from and who our family was. Thank god for that family tree I did back in high school, or I wouldn’t have been able to answer even a third of his questions! He said that he had a gift that belonged to our family, one that had been in the keeping of his family for generations. He told that it ought to be given to our family’s heir. When I asked him what it was, he only said that it was a great debt that belonged to our lord. I suppose this means that I should properly have sent it to my father, blood as he is of the blood of our grandfather, but I loathe the man and all that he stands for. Instead I thought of you, for while you are perhaps the most distant of Grandfather’s line, you are the most like him in terms of deed and thought.

I hope this letter finds you and your parents well. Please send them my love at the earliest opportunity, but please! Make sure that your father does not get it into his head to come and “rescue” me. There is already a quite lovely lieutenant here who plans on taking care of that. ;)

Hugs and Kisses

Sahar

“So? What is it?” Christine demanded as David finished reading aloud.

“Hold on a moment, let me fish it out.” David shoved his hand into the packing peanuts and started to fish around, not wanting to deal with the mess that would come from simply dumping the box upside down. His fingers closed around warm metal and when he pulled his hand free of the box he realized he was holding a large golden necklace. He let the chain spill from his fingers so that the amulet at the end spun slowly in the light for Christine.

“Ooh, that’s lovely...” she murmured. “What’s the design?”

“It looks like a lion, only the mane seems to be made out of sun rays,” David answered as he traced the lines of the face with the pad of his thumb. “It’s got these two wide wings coming out of the side, though they’re flat, rather than curved. Sort of like an airplane, you know?”

“Is there anything written on it?”

David turned the amulet over then shook his head. “No, not that I can see. It just repeats the same image on this side.”

“Huh.” Christine shrugged, then looked down at the time in the corner of her screen and frowned. “Damn, so much for picking up where we left off. I’m sorry, but I’ve got to get dressed for work. On the other hand...”

She got up out of her chair and stepped back, so that her camera had her entire body in view. She turned around and stood with her legs slightly spread, then bent over and pulled her pants down, exposing her naked ass and bare cunt. She held the pose for just a moment, then quickly stood up and turned around. Her shirt came off next and she held it stretched behind her neck, arching her spine to thrust her breasts towards him. Then she whipped the shirt at her webcam, throwing her room into darkness.

“I hope you enjoyed the show! Talk to you soon!”

“Talk to you soon,” David replied. He reached for his own camera and flipped the switch to turn it off. Then he leaned back in his chair and flicked the corner of the amulet, watching the light play across the golden surface as it spun. It was only a couple of inches across, but incredibly heavy. It had to have been almost pure gold, probably several thousand dollars worth judging from the weight, but David had no intention of selling it. How had Sahar described it? A great debt.

‘What does that even mean?’ David wondered as he started to rub the amulet again. He felt a sharp pricking as his thumb was stabbed by the longest of the sun rays. When he pulled his hand back there was a smear of blood across the lion’s face. He started to shake his hand up and down, temporarily looking away from the amulet. “Mother-! Ow! Damn, I thought gold was supposed to be soft!”

Bhawuuuuum.

“What the...” When David turned back to the amulet, he was surprised to discover that it had started to glow. The air around it was shimmering like the road on a hot summer’s day, and there was a low, incredibly relaxing humming noise coming from the amulet, as if the lion at its center had begun to purr. As David leaned closer to examine the amulet, he realized the lion was purring, or at least its lips were trembling. All of a sudden its golden eyes snapped open, exposing two perfectly blue sapphires. Feline jaws parted as the amulet let out a window rattling roar so unexpected that David tumbled from his seat. His head cracked against the floor, and for several seconds the world turned completely dark.

“Are you all right, Master?”

“Gave my head a bit of a whack,” he answered with a groan. It had been enough of a whack that it took him several seconds to remember that there wasn’t supposed to be anyone else in the apartment. His eyes flew open, and much to David’s surprise he found there was a young woman kneeling over him so closely that they were a mere hairsbreadth from kissing.

The girl had a heart shaped face, with skin the color of desert sand. Her eyes were like warm pools of liquid jet, and her full lips were the same inviting pink of cherry blossoms in full bloom. David could feel the weight of her body pressing down on him, but not so heavy that he found her uncomfortable.

“Wh-who are you?” David stammered. “And how did you get in here?”

“Oh, I am sorry!” The girl immediately sat up, inadvertently grinding her crotch against his. She was dressed in a long skirt of flowing golden silk and a matching top that was too complicated to be part of a bikini, but which exposed far too much cleavage to be a proper halter. Tiny rubies had been stitched along the edges using silver wire, while more silver had been used to weave the braids that hung from the bottom of her breasts and which seemed to sway back and forth with every breath she took. David felt his cock began to react, swelling up against the inside of his jeans as she clapped her hands together beneath her chin. “I am Parisa al-Marid, bound by blood and deed to be your wife and slave.”

David blinked, unsure which word was causing him more confusion. “Uh. What?”

Parisa frowned and relaxed her hands so that they were resting, palm up, on her thighs. She began to flex her jaw and stuck out her tongue and waved it in circles. “Am I using this right? The words of this language are new to me, so I beg a thousand pardons if I am speaking improperly.”

David looked puzzled, then shook his head. He propped himself up on his arms so that it was easier to look her in the eye. “No, what? No, your English is fine. Go back to the whole slave/wife thing, though. That is where you lost me.”

“Of course,” Parisa answered with a nod. “Eight hundred years ago, the forefather of your father’s forefather fought in a great battle alongside one of my father’s many sons. Xerxes is a kind soul and a loving brother, so I hesitate to speak ill of him, but ... Well, let us just say that he makes up for his skill with a sword with his gentle manner. But like many young boys of a certain age, he got it into his head that he was truly a great warrior, and so he flocked to the war banners like so many others. Fortunately for Xerxes, there was a truly great warrior on the field of his first battle, and when so many others were being cut down by the devil-bred horsemen, the pale warrior stood tall.

He was Varangian, and had been sent as an emissary to the Shah’s palace, and though he was supposed to be there under a flag of peace, the warrior blood that pumped through his veins made it impossible for him to avoid the siren’s call of war. Xerxes claims that the Varangian’s shield held more than a hundred arrows by noon, and that by the time the red sun forced an end to the battle not a single foe dared step within reach of the white death’s gore soaked ax. He saved Xerxes more than a dozen times that day, until finally darkness allowed him and my brother to retreat back to the camps of their allies. His blood lust sated, the Varangian urged my brother to forfeit his dreams of glory and to return to our father, just as the Varangian intended to return to his own lands and warn them of the threat that was riding out of the east. Xerxes had become soul-sick from watching the slaughter unfold around him, and did as the Varangian had bid him. Upon returning to our homeland, he told my father the story, and so my father declared that there was a blood debt between our families. He had the amulet you now hold forged and sent out into the world, so that once the blood of the Varangian was touched to the lion’s lips the debt could be paid, a life for a life, to bring for more life where once there was only death.”

David brow furrowed as he considered her story. Some of it, at least, made sense. He knew the Varangian Guard had been a group of Viking types who had wandered way off course and ended up somewhere around Turkey, where they ended up becoming the muscle for the local emperors. It was why his grandfather had ended up hiring his father in the first place; the Sheikh had become amused by the idea of having his own Varangian Guard and had enough money and political connections to make it happen. And roughly eight hundred years ago would have put them in the mid thirteenth century, or roughly when the Mongols were getting around to take their turn at rampaging through the Middle East, so that at least explained the devil horsemen. But...

“You sound like you know Xerxes personally,” David said in complete and utter disbelief.

Parisa frowned in confusion. “Of course I know Xerxes. How could one not know their own brother?”

“But you said that was over eight hundred years ago...”

Parisa nodded enthusiastically. “Of course! We are Marid, of the djinn. Our lives do not end unless by our choice or by the hand of another.”

David gaped. “Are you telling me that you are some sort of thousand year old genie?”

“What?” Parisa laughed. “Don’t be silly!”

“Oh, thank-

“I’m only eighteen, not a thousand.”

“But if the amulet has been around since-”

Parisa waved a hand dismissively. “If there is one thing my father does not lack for, it is children, and what man would want a wife so many centuries older than he? My father simply designated a daughter from each generation to stand ready to pay forth the debt until she reached a certain age, at which point she was released from the duty and allowed to marry as she chose or need dictated.”

“This can’t be happening,” David moaned as he fell back against the floor. He closed his eyes tight, and began to rub them with the heel of his hands. “I’m dreaming. I fell and I knocked myself out and-”

Soft lips silenced his next words. David opened his eyes to discover Parisa bent over him, her hands cupping his face as she kissed him. She tugged at his lower lip, leaving behind a faint taste of cinnamon as she slowly moved lower, tracing the line of his jaw with her mouth. Her hips pressed against his as her body flattened out above him, and David found himself unconsciously grabbing onto her ass to hold her steady. He gave her fleshy buttocks a tight squeeze, causing Parisa to gasp in surprise.

“What are you doing?” David asked hoarsely as she sat up, dragging her fingers down his chest at the same time. Her long nails dug into his skin even through his t-shirt, sending a shiver down his spine.

“Can’t you tell?” Parisa purred as she deftly unbuttoned his jeans. “You do not believe I am real, so I am going to prove it to you.”

She rose up on the balls of her feet as her fingers hooked into the waist of his pants. David made no effort to resist as Parisa yanked his pants down, even going so far as to lift his hips to make life easier for her. His cock sprang free, all eight inches standing proudly erect in hopes of attracting the sort of relief that it had been so far denied. Parisa once more got down on all fours and edged backwards. Her long, fiery red hair hung loose around her face, so that the auburn tips tickled David’s naked thighs. Somewhere in the shadows slender fingers curled softly around his shaft and a trembling thumb traced the thick ridge running the length of his cock.

“Oh god,” David gasped. He could could see only the barest hint of movement through the shroud of her hair, but he could feel the heat of her breath moving over his skin as her mouth neared his penis. And involuntary shudder passed through him, and her fingers tightened in response, refusing to give him any say in what was the come.

Parisa’s breath caught in her throat beheld David’s cock. Once she had been chosen as her generations offering, her mother and sisters had spared no efforts in teaching her the arts of pleasing a man. Yet despite all their knowledge and information, this was the first time Parisa had ever seen the real thing. She loved how warm it felt against the palm of her hand, how soft skin was, even as the muscle below it was hard and unyielding. She could feel his pulse quickening through the thick veins that snaked along the sides of the shaft, and her own heart raced to match his beat. She licked her dry lips as she considered what she was about to do, only to smile a moment later at her own fright. ‘There is nothing to be afraid of here, only pleasure to be had!’

Her mind made up, Parisa bent her head and took his cock into her mouth. Her lips pressed together behind the swollen glans and her tongue darted forward, taking quick, tentative licks as she tasted the man who would be her husband for the very first time. The taste was hard to describe; a little salty, yes, but there was a stronger taste behind that, something more earthy, yet delicious. The fires rising in her belly burned hotter, craving more of that wonderful taste, and as her confidence built she sucked him further into her mouth. His cock trembled against her cheeks as her tongue wiped across his head, licking away a hot and sticky fluid that had come oozing out of his tip. The taste of salt was stronger now, with a mix of bitter and sweet thrown in as well. Her hand began to move in concert with her mouth, stroking and squeezing so that he would give her more of that tantalizing liquid.

David’s fist clenched and unclenched as his breath turned to ragged gasps. It was hands down one of the best blow jobs he had ever received, all coming from a strange girl he had met only moments before. A fresh stab of pleasure ripped through him as her teeth oh-so-carefully grazed his skin, releasing him just before it became too much to bear. Her mouth was so incredibly hot and wet, growing tighter and tighter as she worked her way down his length. No one had ever managed to deep throat him before, with most girls giving up before they had even reached the halfway mark. But Parisa seemed intent on making it, and David felt her soft lips pressing against his hips, he lost all sense of self control. He pushed her hair out of the way as his hands closed around the back of her head, holding her steady as he began to pump his hips, forcing his cock into her eager throat.

Parisa moaned as her husband-to-be’s strong hands forced her down at the same time he shoved his cock forward. Her hands dropped to the floor so that she could hold herself steady while David fucked her mouth. Her stomach twisted into a knot of pleasure, and her entire body felt loose and full of energy. All of a sudden David froze, just as he had reached the deepest point of her throat, and for a brief moment Parisa thought something had gone wrong and she started to pull back. Then she felt his cock swell to its fullest a moment before it erupted in her mouth, flooding her cheeks with hot, thick cum. It was at that same moment that the knot in her belly unraveled, sending shocks of pure joy racing through her body as she greedily swallowed his load.

David collapsed against the floor, arms spread wide as his chest heaved in an attempt to fill his lungs with desperately needed air. “Christ, that was amazing.”

“There’s more yet to come,” Parisa murmured as she lay down next to him, one leg casually tossed over his. She propped herself up on one hand as the other continued to toy with his cock. It had started to soften and shrink, even though it was still wet with her saliva. “There is still much more of my body for you to explore.”

David let out a tired laugh. “Heh, I really wish I could, but-”

Parisa’s eyes twinkled. “Your wish is my command!”

David gasped as a powerful surge of energy poured through his body. A tingling sensation built at the base of his cock, flowing upwards as his cock grew just as hard as it had been moments before. It was as if he had just woken up from a good night’s sleep, complete with morning wood. Every minor ache and pain that had been bothering him just a moment before had completely vanished.

“How?” His voice was thick with wonder as he stared at his cock.

“I told you, I am djinn!” Parisa laughed as she rolled her body on top of his. There was a deep emptiness between her legs that was begging to be filled, and she knew just how to satisfy it. Her skirt vanished with a thought, leaving her slender legs to press against his hips as she straddled his waist. Rough denim scraped along the inside of her bare thighs, sending a small shiver down her spine. They didn’t have jeans in the Outer Realms, at least not in her father’s harem where she had been born. It had all been silks and airy linens and other soft things.

Parisa was done with soft things. She wanted hard things, and one hard thing in particular.

She pressed his cock against her wet slit, grinding it between her legs to coat him with her juices. David moaned at the intense heat sliding against his shift. He could feel how wet she was and wanted nothing more than to be fully inside of her. “Parisa...”

“You’ve used my name, husband,” Parisa said huskily. “I suppose that deserves some reward!”

Parisa inhaled as she finally - finally! - guided his cock into her cunt. There was no virginal barrier to impeded his progress, as her sisters had opened her on the same day she had been chosen. But David’s girth was far larger than the slender little rod she had practiced with, and it surprised her how far he stretched her inner walls. Her entire body began to tremble as he slowly slid deeper inside of her. She unthinkingly clenched her muscles, squeezing his cock as he bottomed out within her.

“Oh, fuck!” David gasped.

“Yes! Fuck me!” Parisa demanded as she started move her hips. The feel of him sliding along inside of her was absolutely delicious. Her entire world seemed to narrow down until all that existed was the glorious sensation of him filling her.

“As you wish,” David laughed. Parisa squealed in surprise as his arms wrapped around her waist and twisted. The world spun as he reversed their positions, so that he was now above her. In the process his cock had slipped free and it slapped against her belly as he pushed her legs up over his shoulders.

“Please...” Parisa begged. She felt so empty without him inside of her.

“Hmmm?” David asked innocently as angled his hips lower, so that his cock was sliding up and down her clit.

“Please, Master!”

David felt an intense jolt of lust as she cried out for him. The thought of being called Master was an intense turn on. One arm pinned her legs in place as he guided his cock back into place. His knees scraped against the bare wood of the floor as he made sure the angle was just right before plunging back into her slick folds. This time there was no going slow. This time he took her with one solid thrust, only stopping once he was buried to the hilt. Being inside of her was so absolutely incredible. She was hot and wet, slick enough to move in but tight enough that he could feel her body clutching at every inch of him.

“Oooh,” Parisa moaned as he took her hard and fast. His body slammed against hers, dominating her, driving her into the unyielding floor. She offered no resistance. Instead, her fingers tightened around her thighs, holding her legs spread so that she was completely open to him has he hammered against her core. She crossed her legs behind his back and her nailed carved deep scratches into his back. Heat blossomed deep inside of her as he came, spilling directly into her womb. Her world collapsed into a single point of heavenly delight as she followed him into orgasm.

“Shit,” David mumbled as pulled out of her. He could only stare in disbelief at the beautiful woman who lay on the floor in front of him. The hard peaks of her breast rose and fell as she panted for breath, and her body almost seemed to be glowing as a thick stream of white cum oozed out from between the pink lips of her pussy.

“That was wonderful!” Parisa rose up on her elbows and grinned at him. “And I can see you are still ready to go, my husband.”

David looked down and was surprised to see that she was entirely correct. His cock was just as hard as it had been when he had been inside her, and it showed absolutely no hints of flagging. He looked back up at her and grinned. “I do, don’t it?”

Parisa’s eyes were full of lust as she motioned for him to stand up. As David got back to his feet, Parisa twisted round with feline grace so that she was kneeling in front of him. Her hand closed around his shaft, slowly pumping him as she said, “Husband, I have known your taste and felt you plant your seed inside of me. Now all that remains is for you to mark me with your essence, claiming me as yours forever more!”

She then proceeded to slide his cock between her breasts, squeezing it between warm, soft skin on both sides. His shaft was still slick with the juices from her cunt, making it easy for him to move through the tunnel formed by her flesh. Parisa started out slowly, until David swatted her hands away and grabbed control of her breasts. Her nipples were crushed against the palms of his hands as his hips moved to a familiar rhythm. The setting sun was painting her golden skin a vibrant red, a sharp contrast to his own pale features as he thrust towards her parted lips.

“Christ, you are so beautiful,” David murmured as his thrusts slowed.

“All for you, husband,” Parisa answered as she caressed the back of his thighs. “All for you.”

“And what do you want?” David rasped. He had only just come minutes before, but he could already feel a fresh load of semen gathering at the base of his cock. Was it the same spell that kept him hard that made ready to blow again so quickly? Or was it that Parisa just aroused him so?

“I want you to come for me, husband,” Parisa begged. “I want to feel your hot, sticky cum splash across my breasts. I want to feel it soak into my skin, so that when we go out in public other women will scent you on me and know that you have mastered me, and for other men to know that they can never have me, even as I flaunt my body before them.”

“You think I will let you put yourself on display so brazenly?” David grunted.

“Ooh, I hope so,” Parisa moaned. She closed her eyes and licked her lips. “I will dress myself in only the shortest of skirts, so that they may stare at my legs as I move and so that they will drool when I bend over, hoping to catch even the quickest glimpse of what only you may have. I shall fashion my shirts of the sheerest silk, cut tightly against my breasts so that it will they seem they might spill out at any moment ... but the only eyes that will ever see them truly bare shall be yours.”

“You get off on being watched?”

Parisa’s eyes grew wide at the thought. “Ooooh, yes. I would get them so hard, they would be panting like dogs in heat as they follow me around, begging to be touched, begging for even the merest glance. Their eyes will follow me as I walk into your embrace, then kneel at your feet and demonstrate the proper way a woman services her master, and then they shall weep, for they will know that their own woman would never act in such a way, afraid to give into her own desires to please.”

“Fuck!” David gasped as the pressure mounting in his cock finally became too much. His hips pressed against her breasts as cum erupted from his cock in long, thick white spurts that slapped wetly across her skin. The last shot was just as powerful as the first, splattering against her throat and chin. Parisa waited just a few seconds to ensure that nothing more was forthcoming, than greedily sealed her mouth around his cock, making sure that he was completely clean before she stopped licking and sucking.

David sat down heavily in his chair. Parisa picked herself up off the floor and draped herself across his lap, hooking her arm around his shoulder. A shiver ran down her spine as his cum began to cool on her skin, slowly oozing its way down her chest to drip off the still-hard peaks of her nipples. She could fill him finally beginning to soften against her thigh, and while a part of her wanted to keep him hard, to keep their afternoon going long into the night, her own body was starting to ache. Instead she leaned down and gave him a lazy kiss, teasing his lips with the tip of her tongue.

David sighed as they finally parted. “We should get cleaned up before someone walks in on us.”

Parisa smiled and kissed him again. “I would not worry about that, my love. When you first summoned me I sealed your dwelling to make sure that we would not be disturbed. As Master of the House, only someone with your permission would be able to disturb us.”

“But-” David’s protest was cut off as she kissed him again.

“Do you doubt my words?”

“No, but-”

Parisa pressed her body against his, dragging her breasts along his chest. “Do you need me to prove my powers to you once more?”

“No, it’s just-”

“What the fuck?!”

[originaldetectivesheep]

The Thirty and One Nights' Momentary Diversion - In the Track of the Albatross, part I

Le'von, Lew, Hurley, and Allison return from "When John Frum Came Back to Peliwak" (collected in Monsters of the Week), with a new plane, a new employer, and a new wild-goose chase: a German sub missing for near on a hundred years.

In the Track of the Albatross

I spread out my toes and felt the rivets under my feet, the exact curve of the wing, as I leaned in, getting up on the edge, and hucked the tool bag down and across to Lew.  He caught it out of the air,  cracking a smile as he rocked back under the impact of the canvas, bare feet kicking against the side of the ship under the access door.  With a motion half back inside, he chucked the bag somewhere in, down, inside the belly of the plane.  "If there's a good thing about dropping off that Navy pension and coming up on this contract crap," he said, coming back, blond curls shaking as he leaned back out of the frame, "it's that now, the damn plane's big enough that we can keep all the crap we got to fix'er with inside."  He patted the doorframe of the Scooper.  "I tell ya, Le'von, thisn's a good plane; days I loved that old Cat, but every time you go up, she like as to break up around you."

"I hear you," I said, sidling along the roof over the door, getting ready to drop down and swing in as soon as Lew budged up from the doorway.  "I'm sure glad that this plane is, like, younger than me and she don't take near as much work to keep up, but the other side of being big enough that we can keep all our stuff on board means we got to. I don't miss being cooped up on Tuganga, not so much, but sleeping in a hammock strung up between a stack of vacuum tubes and a crate of MREs gets kinda old, y'know?  If they'd just let us home-port in Guam, I wouldn't have nothing to complain about."  Below me, Lew nodded vigorously, staring out over the lagoon to the distant sandbars of the Chuuk reef line.

Of course, you couldn't take an ancient Catalina and its crew back to Guam, someplace civilized with modern equipment, once you closed up the antique radar station that the bird was assigned to in favor of a damn satellite.  But after that business on Peliwak, and what we'd reported before the island blew up, the service wasn't about to just let us walk and go talk to whoever – and not Hurley and Allison either.  They had to stick a flying boat pilot and his maintenance dude somewhere, and also their radar-ops buddy and their not-totally-useless station chief: where they stuck us, and it was all of us, was into an almost-modern Bombardier Scooper and the world's most obvious black-ops bullshit cover story.

The plane belonged to Northern Stores, technically; I found out during the 'orientation' video for our new 'employer' that this was legit the Hudson's Bay Company, still a weird mercantilist almost-arm of the Canadian goddamn government two hundred years later.  Which explained why the Island Fresh supermarket in Kolonia, the capital of Pohnpei state in Micronesia, could suddenly get a seaplane attached to it and nobody blinked.  When we were 'home-ported', we slept in the plane in the harbor, parked between leafy sandbars and sunken hulks blocking the channel, but we were never home in port – there was always something that someone wanted somewhere, somewhere out in the big empty of the Pacific Ocean that jets couldn't get to correctly and boats couldn't get to fast enough.  So we got borrowed: Lew to fly the plane, me to keep it running and the crew from getting tetanus or dysentery, Al to spot storms and handle any kind of ELINT, and Hurley to…. well, to go talk to people that wouldn't take a Melanesian pilot or a black wrencher or a weird, socially mute radio op seriously.  That was mostly what Hurley was good for, mostly what he did.  Like now; that was what he was coming back from doing, standing up in the front end of a motor canoe in his Navy whites, the local pilot back by the outboard leaning way back out over the spray to keep the canoe balanced, or to get himself as far the hell away from Hurley as he possibly could.  The canoe slowed up as it turned in towards the plane, and Lew and I half saluted out of force of habit.

Hurley threw it back as smart and crisp as the dress trousers none of us ever caught him washing.  "Morning, Le'von, Lew; are we shipshape?"

I nodded over at the engine I'd given a going-over.  "Yeah; I popped a panel after those diagnostics came up last time, but everything's in place, fluids are good, nothing's wearing out.  We ain't filled up since we landed, but just driving over here to anchor probably didn't burn that much.  Lew?"

Lew nodded.  "Man's right; we're near full up, still all stowed from coming in.  Most any patrol, we're ready to go as soon we spin up the engines."

Hurley's face was unexpectedly grave.  "That's good to hear, but I'll take exception to part of it.  This isn't 'most any patrol' we've got – we're going to be out a long ways, perhaps for a long time – longer than we've done in a while.  We're going to need to top off what we burned taxiing over here – and to fill up the two water-bomber tanks forward with fuel as a backup."

I shifted myself sideways, edging off the door.  This was serious; whoever had delivered this plane to us through whatever channels had taken out most of the firefighting equipment that had been built into it to start, leaving a lean but flexible long-range seaplane without a lot of extra weight, but there were still two of the bomb tanks opening out the hull – in case we needed to do some firefighting, or in case we needed to go farther, way out in that big empty, than anyone could rationally expect a seaplane to go.  "In that case, I've got to check the doors and make sure they're sealing tight – so we aren't leaking and we aren't pumping water through the engines.  I'll make it quick; wherever this is, you probably want to get going right away."  Hurley nodded, and I shucked off my shirt, throwing it in past Lew as he bent to help Hurley up into the plane.  I slid off the edge of the fuselage and straight down into the sea; there were gauges inside, but the surest way to check the seals on the forward bomb bay doors was to run a finger along all the seams, to feel for the water sucking in on the pressure change, getting in where it wasn't supposed to.

When I climbed back up in, scrubbing off with a microfiber towel before I dripped on something that would be expensive to have short out, the engines were already turning; the electric starters on the new Pratts sure beat the heck out of manually cranking the ones on the old ship. Lew was running through his checklist and Hurley was in the copilot's chair; I picked up my shirt from the jump seat and sat down to pull it on.  "So, what's the mission, boss?" I asked, digging in with my fingers to get the last of the water out of my hair.  "We've got to be going far, and out of the way, if we've got to gas up again, let alone load extra fuel into the bomb tanks.  Where abouts?  Wake? Kiribati?  The Solomons?"

Hurley answered, even though I was mostly talking to Lew.  "You're not far wrong; it's in that area, it's far away, and it's somewhat sensitive – as in the U.S. government is not supposed to be there, by orders of both the FSM and Papua New Guinea, at least one of whom owns the reefs and sandbars in the outer Bismarcks that we have to check first.  They're not allowed to land; otherwise they would have sent the SEALs and might have sent a task force.  Because it's fine and well for small countries to have territorial sovereignty, but when you go about building a submarine dock and berthing a two-hundred-foot boat of no known type there, the Navy gets a little anxious."

I had been nodding through Hurley's World Police ramble there, but when he got to the wild sub, I sat bolt upright.  "Wait.  What? They've got us off sub hunting?  Why?  How?  And what do you mean, 'no known type' – how did nobody spot it before?"

Lew brought the engines up to taxi speed, and checked that the anchor was all the way up as he fed in the throttle to get us moving over towards the pier by the west end of the airport.  "We didn't hear about it out here, being so cut off from the Internet," Hurley said, raising his voice a little to be heard over the props, "but a bunch of USGIS satelllite survey images got wikileaked a few weeks ago, and the usual conspiracy weirdos with more spare time than sense immediately put together a crowdsearch project to find the aliens, or the Jade Helm bases, or whatever rubbish people are getting riled up about this week.  They found nothing like that, of course, but what they did find was a submarine, of no type known to modern navies, berthed to a crude pier on a tropical sandbar.  This was remarked on, but because the leak did not include a way to make sense of the image codes, the amateurs huffing over it couldn't find what particular tropical beach, exactly, the image represented, and after diligently not finding any matching island and submarine dock on Google Earth, the wasters forgot about it and went back to their games or harrassing celebrities or whatnot.

"The government most decidedly did not forget.  The Internet amateurs did not find the submarine base on Google Earth because Google, mindful of their bandwidth, does not include images in sufficient resolution to identify it for grid squares that should be merely an empty and uninteresting patch of the Pacific Ocean.  But the USGIS does have images at that resolution, and as soon as someone saw the image codes, they confirmed that this square of ocean, long ignored as uninteresting, had been hosting at least one submarine base for quite some time."

"I'm not liking the sound of this – especially that 'at least one' part," I said, turning around as I stood up to check the connections between the main fuel tanks and the backup bomb tanks. Lew spun the engines down, and through the windshield ahead, I could see the motor launch from the airport coming in, trailing the hose back to the tank truck.

"I haven't even gotten to the bad part yet," Hurley said, without a care in the world.  "The Navy's identified at least three more potential or former sub docks, strung out along the outer edge of the Bismarck archipelago, or on flyspeck seamounts out in the ocean between there and the Carolines; submarine docks associated with what look, to a practiced eye, like careful copra plantations and drying facilities.  Someone is running a submarine around in the wastes of the Central Pacific, and fueling it with coconuts, the oil or the dry meat for coal."

"Everyone runs copra out here," I said, checking the pressure on the bomb tanks as the gas started to fill in.  "Doesn't mean anything; anybody who can find themselves an uninhabited island will put up some trees and get a grow going, no matter who the land ought to belong to.  Doesn't mean anything."

"Of course it doesn't; not by itself."  Hurley was unaffected.  "But with the submarine, it may – and not just any submarine.  The sub is of no known type – no type known to modern navies.  But there is a historical class that, despite the fairly bad quality of the one half-submerged satellite photo of the ship that we have available, may be a match – and that class has long been legended to be missing a ship."

The gauges were all green.  I turned back around to confront Hurley about this.  "Okay, fine.  So what is this mystery ship?  Some missing Nazi U-boat that flew in from Antarctica?"

Hurley was turned around, and he shook his head, chuckling, in that way he had that always made me wish I had a wrench to hand, and that he wasn't standing in front of anything important.  "You've got the right country, Le'von, but the wrong war.  Our missing ship is the nigh-mythical U-160, not recorded as launched from Kiel in March 1918 as the last of the U-151 class, the long-range cargo subs intended to connect Germany with her distant colonies and reluctant trading partners.  The hull dimensions of the ship seen by the satellite are within ten percent of what we know of the U-151s; it wouldn't be impossible for a German submarine to be found out here, in the old German colonial waters, as an evacuation ship or a commerce raider or both in the dying days of the Great War.  Where this becomes impossible is when that ship survives a hundred years on and is still sailing – and then why, and where, and for whose ends, becomes very interesting to a great many people."

I nodded, and crossed my arms.  "Right.  And when you've got a ghost ship out there doing impossible things within a thousand or two miles of Pohnpei, up and goes the ex-Tuganga Weather Station after it, because anybody knows impossible, it's them."

Hurley turned back around, putting his headset on as Lew brought the engines up again.  "Tuganga's in the past, Le'von; we're with the Rachel now, and with her, well, I guess we've got to always be searching for everyone's lost children."  

"Sir yes sir," I said, ignoring the reference and sitting back down in the jump seat.  I had my own checklists to run as Lew opened the engine up to take us out; I didn't have much to do in the air, but when we got wherever we were going, it was going to be me on the beach – me out on the beach looking for clues to a ghost ship lost at sea for the longest part of a hundred years.

Part II

[timgort]

An event(s)

It seems like anytime we (the House of Gort and its various residents) are reminded of the impermanence of the world we also receive reminders of the things in life that just don't matter too much.

The day after we met with our family counselor to discuss Gwen’s health (and first realized what was ahead) the House of Gort decided to literally fall apart.

Violet came upstairs to inform us that “there is water pouring from ceiling downstairs..." in a non-emergency, nonchalant, matter-of-fact kind of way kids do.  Of course, we escalated this news to priority one. I turned the water off and called the plumber, thinking it may be related to our recent renovations.  

The plumber, however, was baffled by this leak, as it couldn’t be duplicated once we turned the water back on. So, exploring he went. By exploring, we mean cutting random holes in our ceiling big enough for one’s head to see what may or may not be happening.

After making three holes he consulted with his boss, and they determined that our furnace humidity pump, where the line inserted into the drain, had leaked during a random drain backup that eventually resolved itself. Suspiciously weird, right?!

Either way, he fixed it. And later that day, I took Violet skiing with her friends for some sense of normalcy before we had our meeting with our counselor to discuss Gwen with Violet (on the day after).

A few of us adults have a pretty good system of sharing skiing with the kids and then taking alternating to take powder runs. This allows the big kids to get turns down the bigger, softer runs while the kids do the same hill over and over.

But toward the end of the night during one of my big kid runs, my emotions began intermingling with the skiing (always a dangerous combination). I pushed myself harder and harder past my limits until I found a big chunk of ice, caught an edge, fell hard and bounced off my head.

I shook it off, and decided to stay on the kid runs realizing I was a danger to myself. Stiff neck and back aside I healed up quickly thanks to a chiropractor adjustment.

Our counselor meeting with Violet the next day went well, and we openly discussed the news ahead. Her sweetness has been so integral throughout this process, and we feel that afterward the emptiness will settle in fully.

A big help with Violet and Eliza, in addition to our two caregivers, has been our dear friend, Krysta. She’s the very first caregiver we hired after moving to the U.P., and has been through quite a bit with us. 

After she found about Gwen, she cleared her work schedule in Minneapolis and made drive to be with Gwen and our family, planning to stay only a few days and then return.

She was able to be around for another House of Gort fall apart, when on Monday, we noticed (Regina had mentioned it several days before) that "water" seemed to be running out of the top of our septic cover.

I guess I should have know when the snow around it had melted at lightning speed.  I contacted our local septic guy who could come by later that morning to tell me that our drain field is backing up, and we'll need to get a temporary septic tank put in until spring arrives (which is like a year away).

Meanwhile, inside the House of Gort, we'd already had our hospice meetings and our "philosophy change" is well underway. Life, real life, not shit, is happening inside the house.

Outside, the poor septic guy, who I tell “life is happening in my house right now” tells me sometimes these newer tanks have a filter that can save your drain field, and told me to start digging around the snow to find "it." Not knowing what I was digging for or where "it" was I began throwing many some feet of snow, making a haphazard maze around the back of the yard.

As he returns to the overflowing tank with his giant vacuum hose, he tells me it's not that far away...it should be close to this area as he points and begins to "vacuum."  I continue to heave snow…I could have done this all damn day.

"Well look at that, the filter is right here. You are quite lucky because that's more than likely what's causing it to backup. The problem is that we usually clean these with a garden hose."

I scrambled to find a hose, a plastic bin and we cleaned said filter while he reminded me of the kinds of “things” that kill septic systems and that I should remind my household of that.

Another problem solved heading into the next day to prepare for our dear Krysta to return home. Her car, however, had different plans. It decides to quit shifting. Thankfully, our local repair shop in Gwinn squeezed it in but they couldn’t read what was going on. 

We call our friend’s dad, who owns a shop and is a Ford expert, and he stays late to look at the car, and jumps into it head first the very next day. Seven error codes later and only one problem solved, it turns out to be dealer/warranty thing but the dealer is booked solid for two weeks. Gwen laughs at all of it.

Our local garage knew a guy in parts at the dealer so they call him and get the car in today. Got to love the love that people show. Meanwhile, we get Krysta for a few more days and continue our celebration, grief and love festival for Gwendolyn.

All of this reinforces our philosophy if money can fix it, it’s not too bad. Humor can always be found in the darkest of times. Chaos is always all around us but imagine that most of the time it’s just not as bad as our discursive mind chatter makes it. 

This may seem like a random list of comic distractions but timing of them provided a healthy dose of humor, and in the end they all worked themselves out. But life is still happening in our home, and I quickly reshift my focus.

We’ve all (Kiva won’t leave her bed) manage to continue to spend our time with Gwen - who continues to be comfortable and surrounded by love from near and afar. We’ve told her it’s OK to go, and that we will carry her with us, always.

Please know that Gwen’s health is declining very quickly, and we don’t know how much longer she will be with us. Please continue to send positive vibes to all of us.

[thesassybooskter]

ZAPATA by Harper McDavid: Excerpt & Spotlight

NOW AVAILABLE

When engineer Avery McAndrews is offered a last-minute assignment to the rough and tumble border town of Zapata, Texas, she doesn’t think twice. Used to pushing past stereotypes, she’s sure this project will earn the long-awaited promotion.

Instead, she’s thrown in the crossfire between warring drug cartels and soon discovers that her captor, Javier Ramos, is more than just a power hungry drug lord. He’s crazy.

As lead attorney for the cartel, it’s Alejandro DeLeon’s job to manage Javier. But this time, Javier’s cruelty reaches epic proportions, and Alejandro finds himself wanting to risk everything to save Avery.

Running for their lives with Mexico’s underworld at their heels, Avery and Alejandro discover unintended and intensifying emotions, feelings neither sought and neither seem prepared to control…

  Buy Online: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | IndieBound

Add to Goodreads

  Excerpt

Avery stepped down on the tarmac. From what she could see, Zapata was just another uninhabitable and godforsaken border town. Rattlesnake country, dusty and desolate. A gust of hot wind blew an affirming layer of grit over her freshly applied lipstick.

“Ms. McAndrews.” The copilot met her at the base of the stairs, holding her suitcase. He shot her a sympathetic smile. “We’ll return for you whenever you’re done.”

A small rush of panic pulsed through Avery. She glanced up at the corporate jet, tempted to hike right back up those stairs. “You mean you guys aren’t hanging around?”

He laughed. “Cancun, yes.” He glanced about at the forbidding terrain. “This place, afraid not. We’re based in San Antonio, though. When we get your call, it’s thirty to forty minutes, tops. The captain says you have his number. Just let us know when you’re ready to head back. We’ll be here for you.”

“Thanks.” Avery grabbed the handle of her wheeled suitcase. A black SUV with heavily tinted windows and with the Rockforth logo emblazoned on its rear bumper was parked just beyond the chain link fence. Next to it, an older man with a sizable paunch waited, his gaze focused on some point beyond her.

“Hi. I’m Avery.”

“I’m looking for someone named Derrick. Was he on the plane with you?”

“No. I’m his replacement.”

“Hmm.”

“I’m sorry, you haven’t told me your name,” she said, trying to ignore his obvious skepticism.

A second man stepped down from the SUV, extending a hand. “I’m Manuel and he’s Bruce. We’re the security team.”

“Security team? My boss didn’t say anything about that.”

“He didn’t mention security was an issue out here?” Bruce asked.

She gritted her teeth. She should have known. Eric had spent ten minutes dismissing her concerns about safety along the border, assuring her repeatedly that she had nothing to worry about. Typical. He only cared about one thing, and that was keeping Sam Rockforth happy. She didn’t blame Eric for that, though. Working on Sam’s projects came with a lot of perks. Today’s private jet had been one of many.

“No. He didn’t mention a security team. But I just found out last night that I’d have to take over for Derrick.” She hefted her bag into the back of the SUV and climbed into the back seat with her field gear in hand. She tried to stifle any misgivings she had about her so-called security team. At five-six, Avery had seen the top of Manuel’s head. And neither he nor Bruce appeared anything like the retired Navy SEALs or even night club bouncers she might imagine. But people weren’t always what they seemed to be. Being a female engineer meant she’d been the target of that enough to know.

“Facility’s about thirty miles out of town,” Bruce said as they accelerated along the road.

And this is town? Avery choked back a laugh. The sameness of the highway was broken up only by the occasional run-down restaurant or abandoned gas station. Tumbleweeds seemed to be the sole evidence of plant life, and only plastic bottles, cans, and other assorted garbage punctuated the fallow expanse of dusty terrain.

She retrieved the site map from the file folder. Derrick’s projects were always such a mess. Nothing but a few random notes and receipts from bars with names that sounded suspiciously like strip clubs. With her index finger, she traced and retraced the production line. There was nothing unique about this particular tank battery. Based on the schematics, it looked just about like every other one she’d seen throughout the Gulf Coast and Rocky Mountains. The engineering was basic. Flow lines, separators, and pumps. It made no sense. Leaks and mechanical issues were hardly uncommon. Why go to the expense of sending an engineer at her pay grade when a local operations manager should be able to handle it? She chewed her lip. And why had Derrick let things spiral into a crisis mode?

Her thoughts were interrupted by the driver’s voice. “Mr. Rockforth probably would have sent more guys with us if he’d known we’d be guarding a woman.” Bruce’s eyes met hers in the rearview mirror. “What made ’em change their minds and send a pretty thing like you? Surely you don’t want to work in the oil field. Do you?”

It was a question Avery had had to answer many times before. Typically, it was posed with a bit more tact. She remained focused on the plant diagrams.

Bruce persisted. “Where are you from?”

“Denver,” she said with a sigh.

“Welcome to Texas.”

“Thanks,” she said. “It’s good to be back.” It was time to shut the man down. “I got my master’s at A&M. I’ve been working in the oilfield for years.”

“Well, here on the border they play by different rules than what you’re probably used to. You need to stay in the car unless we tell you otherwise.” Bruce paused to turn up the radio, which was playing an unfamiliar country song. “Manuel and I are both armed.” He drew out the syllables of the other man’s name with an exaggerated twang. “Guess it don’t matter that they sent a woman. When you’re dealing with low-life drug lords, it’s all the same. A bullet don’t show preference.”

  About Harper McDavid

As a child, Harper McDavid watched her mother ride the rollercoaster of writing books, swearing she’d never do it herself. But some things are just hardwired, and luckily for Harper the world has moved on beyond typewriters and ten-pound manuscripts. Harper’s gritty romantic suspense incorporates her own background in science and engineering and work experience along the border. The result is a collection of brainy hard hat-wearing heroines that occasionally swap out their coveralls for the little black dress. Harper is the mother of three daughters and lives in the foothills of Colorado with her husband, two dogs, and a fat cat. Her free time is spent traveling the world in search of that next story and perusing her local library for funny book covers. Find out more about Harper at her website, and connect with her on Instagram, Twitter, and Facebook.

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ZAPATA by Harper McDavid: Excerpt & Spotlight was originally published on The Sassy Bookster