#but! just wanted to do some clothing exploration. this is not a Standard Fit (naked under the chlamys) but i like the reference picture

[dinoserious]

chlamys

[linasofia]

Never Together

Part 2

You can read part 1 here.

Armitage Summer Splash #19

Trope: Matching tattoos

Quote: “I can’t do this.”

Relationship: John Porter (Strike Back) x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+

Thanks @legolasbadass for your feedback.💙

Two months of complete silence. Two month of torture when I don’t hear from John at all. I know that I need to be patient and have trust in him and the group he travels with, but not knowing how he fares is the worst part. And since we are not a couple or family I don’t get any information. Nobody knows that I exist. The anxiety is eating me from the inside and tearing down my line of defense. I spend more nights fretting over the horrible images I create in my head than I ever could imagine when I started inviting him to my bed.

When his text suddenly arrives, after what feels like a small eternity, I am not fully prepared for the outburst of emotions, the tears of relief that flood over my cheeks and the way my body shakes violently as I sink down on the floor. My feelings for him are getting harder to ignore and deep inside my chest, my heart breaks when I think of him not being able to give me his heart in the same way I offer him mine. Like always in his texts, he is letting me know some vague details on when he is arriving but that he hopes I still want to see him.

And just like all the times before I text him back, welcoming him without any traces of my feelings. I need to remind myself that we are friends who just happen to take full advantage of the fact that we make an excellent team between the sheets. John is an amazing lover. When we first discovered our mutual taste I was surprised over how thoughtful he was. In my experience, guys who only want it for the night sometimes tend to be more selfish. But not John. Even if we both were affected by the level of alcohol in our blood, he made certain my pleasure was not neglected. After that night I knew he had set a new standard for me when it comes to men. I could never settle for less.

A few days later, he stands on my doorstep, looking tired but with the broadest of smiles painted on his handsome face. The way his usually tight t-shirt now has a slightly more loose fit reminds me of how much struggle he must have endured. Still, I can’t hinder the familiar feeling of need when I see him and in his eyes I see the same feelings burning. Without a word he takes me in his arms, kisses me deeply and runs his hands through my hair. I moan softly at the eagerness in his rough touch.

”I need you so much right now. I’ve waited too long for this.” His words come out harshly as he pulls the dress over my head and his fingers swiftly free me from my new, and way too expensive bra. ”I appreciate the effort, but I have to see you naked.” John smirks as the fabric falls to the floor and I tug at the hem of his clothes. Keen to help me, he puts his hand at the back of his neck and pulls the t-shirt over his head, revealing some of the skin I long to feel under my fingertips. I was right, he has lost some weight. But it makes the muscles on his chest and arms look even firmer than usual, well-defined as on a Thai boxer in the process of getting into the right shape before a big tournament.

I don’t have time to admire nor comment on his physics, for John is pulling his jeans down together with his boxers. There is no room for misunderstandings regarding the arousal fueling his body and when his hands demandingly rip the panties from my body, I whimper at the unexpected feeling. John crashes his lips against mine again and the impact makes me take a few steps back, but I instinctively throw my arm around his neck for support. His kisses are feverish; like a starved man he devours my mouth and all I can do is follow him into this madness of lust. I melt under his touch as his hands explore my heated body. He was wonderful the first time we let the passion ignite between us and just as I sometimes picture him carefully taking care of his rifle or gun, he knows how to lubricate me.

Trapped between the wall and his firm chest, I’m helpless when he grabs my thighs and lifts me up. I need him so badly and the feral groan he lets out when he forcefully enters me is the sexiest noise in the world. I’m so ready for him but his girth always seems to shock my body and I hug him tightly as he buries himself deep within me. I rest my head against the wall as John’s purposeful thrusts press my back against its hard surface. With a relentless pace, he fulfills my needs and two months without him soon show our true desperation. He knows exactly how to play me and as soon as he feels how I respond to him, he is determined to bring me relief. My body tense in his grip, I feel myself clench around his member and with a single throaty moan, I fall into the bliss he offers. He follows me quickly and our joined heavy panting is soon all that is heard in my otherwise silent apartment.

“I think you needed me as well.” John puts on a satisfied grin and gives me a kiss. Drops of sweat travel along his temples and his dark hair is damp at the sides.

“More than you might think.” My response is honest but I can’t stop my heart from aching. John still holds me in a tight grip and my legs are crossed aroundhim. Like it is no effort whatsoever, he carries me to my bed and puts me down to rest. The linen in my bed has the faint scent of newly washed bed sheets. Not that they usually stay fresh very long when John visits me, but at least I like the feeling. As he lays down beside me, I roll up against him, seeking the closeness I secretly long for. I rest my head on his arm and gently caress his chest. A comforting silence spread in my bedroom. I trail the lines of his pecs with my fingertips and he lets out a pleased sigh. When I lift my head to give him a kiss on the shoulder, my gaze suddenly falls on a new dark inked pattern on his arm. Just next to his old tattoo. It looks very new, just days old.

“I don’t remember seeing that one before.” I nod at the newcomer. “Are you sore?”

“No, it’s fine.”

“I like it.” I tell him softly, hoping he will tell me the reason behind the small piece of art on his body.

“Thanks.” His voice suddenly changes and he becomes very serious. ”There was a time we really questioned if we were going to get out alive. Things became very dangerous, more than usual.” My heart picks up speed. I don’t like hearing him talking about his work, but at the same time I want to know. I want to try to understand some of the things he is forced to go through.

“Did you? I mean…did you all survive?”

“Yes. On our way through the last hostile area, we made a deal. We were to get matching tattoos, if we made it back home. Just something small, something that will honor the sacrifice we all do.” He looks me deeply in the eyes. “God knows we all make huge sacrifices for this country.”

I swallow hard. He doesn’t have to say it, I know he is thinking of his daughter. Even if she now is a young adult, she has trouble dealing with her childhood memories and the trauma that followed after John was captured and his staged execution was filmed and later leaked on the internet. I caress his cheek and he leans against my touch. I’m trying my best to show him that I’m here for him, if he wants to talk about the hurtful things he carries like a heavy rucksack everywhere he goes.

”I can’t do this. Not anymore.” His sudden words twist like a knife in my heart and the insecure look in his eyes as he catches my gaze makes me nervous. I stop breathing, not knowing what to expect and he stares back at me, like he is trying to find something to hold on to, deep in my soul. When he speaks again, my name falls softly from his lips. ”I can’t go on pretending that I don’t feel anything for you. I know we said this was just for fun and to be honest, I never thought I was capable of feeling anything again. But to me, this has grown to something more. I think of you differently now.” John takes a deep breath, rests his forehead against mine and with a shaky voice he whispers three small words. Tears form in the corner of my eyes as his words penetrate deep into my heart, melting the lonely feeling and replacing it with hope. I had almost given up all hope for more and I was bracing myself for letting this time be the last. To bury my feelings instead of risking getting more hurt. But there they are, his true feelings exposed. His lips speak of promises and beliefs, and when my lips meet his again, I pour all my own feelings into the kiss. It is the best kiss we ever have shared. When we break it, his cheeks are wet from my tears. Things will be different from now on and a brighter future lies before us. There is always hope.

~~~ The end ~~~

Did you like it? Please like, comment or/and reblog! ❤️

Taglist and others who might be interested: @lathalea @legolasbadass @fizzyxcustard @middleearthpixie @i-did-not-mean-to @laurfilijames @enchantzz @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @xxbyimm @kibleedibleedoo @mariannetora @s0ftd3m0n @haly-reads @sunnysidesidra

Let me know if you want to be added or removed.

[compassionatereminders]

ok so.... here's a thing.... i don't have any pictures of me on my phone (besides one which is used for my school/college purposes) and the thing is..... i want to love my body and feel good but i can't.

it's like... i LOVE plus size bodies, i have seen so many people looking happy and absolutely stunning and being confident in their bodies but why do i hate mine like this?

i mean.... yes my family does say a lot that i am 'becoming fat' because i have bigger arms and a belly but like.... i don't have it that bad and it does not look bad when i wear clothes.

but it's like.... i HATE how i look. whenever i'm feeling 'cute' i click a pic only to delete it asap and i have stopped taking pics and i actively avoid taking pictures.

and i'm so tired of hating myself. ik i act as if it doesn't matter and that i don't care about what my body looks like but like i do and i'm just tired.

and i don't even see my body type being represented because i lie in that weird middle portion where some people consider me plus size (and i face constant fatphobia from them) while i'm 'normal' to others and so my struggles don't matter. and i don't have the body where my chest or butt is big (my body is like the most rectangle of rectangles) and so absolutely 0 rep.

it's just.... i always panic when people ask me to send photos or take photos or ask me why i don't have any pics on my phone. when i say that i don't like taking pics, they laugh it out and i just feel like i'm overreacting like anything.

i just don't feel *good* about myself at all and the world isn't letting me because it can't decide which category i fall into in case of my body type.

I don't take many pictures of myself either - and I honestly don't think this obsession with constantly having to show off and document our bodies is inherently progressive. Obviously it sucks that you don't feel comfortable in your body and I'm not saying you shouldn't work on changing that - but you also don't have to turn your body into an object for people to judge and consume and you definitely don't have to feel bad just because your body doesn't fit the mainstream beauty standards. You don't have to move from one extreme to another. There is a lot of space between "I hate myself" and "I'm half naked on Instagram" which you can slowly explore at your own pace one step at a time.

[zet-sway]

Spiritual Shrios Summer Prompt Fill - "Wet"

I had a goal to do at minimum one (1) prompt from rosenkow's Spiritual Shrios Summer challenge and here it is. I have other ideas percolating for some of these other prompts though

AO3 Link - "Secrets in the Steam" - Prompt word: "Wet"

I've elected to completely throw away Kepral's Syndrome and whatever other ugly realities happened in ME3. I wanted a steamy hot tub scene with Thane in the Citadel DLC, so I wrote one. The war is over, they're happy. ALSO yes I know there are no windows by the hot tub in the Citadel apartment but I put one there. Because I can.

Anyway I haven't done this fanfiction thing in a few years so uhhhh yeah i was going to say don't come for me but then i realized maybe those aren't the words i'm looking for looooooollll i'm not funny

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

Shepard's citadel apartment was entirely too large, by his standards. The décor wasn't what he would have chosen but he liked it well enough. Truth be told, he'd like a damn cave well enough as long as she was with him. The guest rooms were a nice touch but he felt the expansive quarters to be largely unnecessary - that was, until she mentioned something about there being a heated jacuzzi large enough to fit half her crew. He'd thought her to be exaggerating until they arrived and he saw it with his own eyes. It wasn't until days later that they would have a chance to actually use it.

They had just returned from one of their more intense PT sessions. Shepard wasn't quite willing to give up some of the rigors of her military life, and Thane thought that suited him just fine. They kept each other on their toes. Actually, she had a wild goal of wanting to be able to bench press him, and given her determination he thought he might soon have that privilege. Worn out, they entered the apartment and prepared to wash up.

Dropping her things on a table by the door, Shepard made a beeline straight for the bedroom, shucking her clothes as she went. "I'm going for a soak, you want in?" she called from the other side of the flat.

Thane tossed his shirt into the laundry and followed her, rounding the corner into their room to find her already immersed, stretched out on her belly along the hot tub bench. Propped up on her elbows, the only parts of her not submerged beneath the foaming water were her head, her shoulders and the rounded curve of her backside. "Nice view," he mused, a genuine smile on his lips.

"Get in here," she said playfully.

He undressed and eased into the water beside her, a heady sigh escaping his throat. The water was exquisitely warm and he sagged against the edge of the bath, stretching his arms out along the tile and breathing deeply.

"Well, what do you think of the new digs?" She asked, peering up at him through her lashes. A few damp strands of hair clung to the edges of her face and neck and her skin was flushed with the heat of the steam.

He let his head fall back as he closed his eyes, fixated on the luxurious feeling of the hot water swirling around them. "Siha, this is positively divine."

She laughed. "I thought you'd say that. Does the water help with your scales?"

"Yes, actually. The water helps to soften the old growth as it prepares to fall away."

"Living on a starship must be rough, then."

"It isn't as bad as you might expect. Abrasives are sometimes used instead. I believe humans call them 'exfoliants.'"

"Mm," she said. "Guess we'll be spending a lot of time here, then."

"I wouldn't object."

Beneath the water's surface, he felt a soft hand brush along his abdomen, tracing across the hills and valleys of his musculature. He let her explore to her liking and she scooted up beside him, pressing herself close. The heat seemed to permeate his every nerve and he felt like he could melt into the floor.

He sighed as she pressed a small kiss into his scales. "You know, I have nowhere to be for the rest of the night," she said quietly, resting her head on his shoulder.

Thane quirked a brow at her statement, wanting to be sure he heard her correctly. Since coming to the citadel, Shepard's schedule had been unending military and political appointments, and she spent much of her free time visiting Kolyat with him or connecting with her crew. They had precious little time to enjoy themselves alone, and what time they did have was often spent sleeping or preparing for the next event. Her notoriety was a blessing and a curse. So when she whispered she could be his for the evening, he felt his blood awaken with desire.

"What shall we do with ourselves then?"

"As if you even have to ask," she laughed quietly. She was kissing his neck softly, hand smoothing down along his chest to slip beneath the water and settle beneath his thighs. Oh yes. His head spun with wanting, fueled by the decadent, molten heat of the bath - he hadn't made love like this in years. The memories consumed his conscious thoughts and he sat up to pull her into his arms. Shepard stopped him with a gentle hand.

"Relax, lover. Let me."

She rose from her seat and stood before him like a vision. The vapor of the bath blurred the hazy colored light streaming in through the windows and steam rose off her naked body like the promise of sunbeams after a summer rain - an angel, a goddess. He never wanted to be apart from her.

One leg at a time, she climbed astride him. The cooling water on her skin kissed his scales and he hummed in contentment, settling his arms around her waist. They began with a kiss, a simple, indulgent pleasure they were often forced to forgo, given his biology and her demanding schedule. He treasured every kiss they were afforded, her lips soft and yielding, parting easily beneath his so he could truly taste her. There was slow silence between them as they connected, an unhurried exchange of unspoken promises. Beneath the water, she pressed her center against him and slowly began to grind, not yet engulfing him but teasing him - teasing herself, breath hitching as she moved over each of his ridges.

He brought a hand around to slowly massage her breast and she sighed into his touch. He thought himself blessed beyond words to have such a sensitive and receptive lover. She reacted in earnest, pressing her chest into his hands and he set to work mouthing a trail from her neck down to the tips of her breasts, her head tilting back with a quiet gasp as he teased her.

He looked up at her, tongue dragging slowly over one tightened nipple. Heavy lidded eyes gazed down at him, pupils blown wide under the effects of his kiss, watching him. "Thane..." She breathed, "I want to..." She moaned as he sucked her flesh between his lips, deliberately making any attempt to drive those delicious sounds from her throat.

"I'm yours, Siha," he murmured into her skin.

Drawing her lower lip between her teeth, her hips rose and her hand slipped beneath the water to guide him where she burned for him the most, pulling a low vibration from his chest while she slowly took him into her body. His head fell back and she all but collapsed over him, shallow breaths whispering against his throat as she enveloped him. The pressure - the heat of her was exquisite. They were still for a few precious moments while the steam collected and condensed on their bodies, beads of cooling water rolling down them like sweat, until she rose to grasp his shoulders and ride him.

The swirling water of the bath tempered her motions and through dreamy haze of warmth and steam he was in awe of her. She was divine, transcending mortality. She rocked her hips and the water followed her movement as though she commanded it, bidding his nerves to sing with otherworldly pleasure. Their existence was movement within and without, joined in the languid heat with no beginning or end. Thane's hands grasped her hips as though she were the only thing that could anchor him to reality and he moved against her in short shallow thrusts.

Fingernails bit into the scales of his back and shoulders as she pressed her center against him, enveloping him so deeply his head swam. Her voice was a thundering whisper above storm in his veins, "Thane, holy fuck I'm - ah - "

Entangled as they were, he felt her thighs tense astride him, her arms, fingers, and chest tightening like a vice as her climax ripped through her. He slipped his arms around her waist and held her, hips rising to meet hers in firm strokes as she clenched around him, beckoning him to follow her over the edge.

It took all his control to resist. Wanting to luxuriate just a little longer in the sweltering heat of their joining, he rose from the water, lifting her with arms wrapped tightly around her.

"Mmph, cold," she mewled as he pressed her against the wall, damp skin cooling on contact with the tiles.

"I've got you, Siha. Let me warm you." His voice was low and heavy with need. He sheathed himself within her and covered her with his body, capturing her lips in a kiss.

This close to release, his motions were frantic now. Thane held her suspended as her voice rose from soft moans to breathless gasps. Her voice urged him on, hips snapping into her fast and firm at an angle that made stars flash behind her closed eyes. She wound her arms around his shoulders, drawing him deeper, her fingers scrabbling for whatever purchase they could find in attempt to leverage herself and meet his pace. Her breath came in sharp cries, swearing and cussing, panting, calling his name - and he gave himself to her, feeling the cresting wave of his release bear down and sweep him under.

He stilled himself through the aftershocks, the world slowly coming back into focus around them: the water swirling around his legs, the heaving of her chest against him - their shared, labored panting as his pulse slowed to a normal rhythm. With a sigh, he released himself from her, setting her down on shaky legs in the roiling water beneath them.

Gently, she lowered herself back down into the bubbling warmth of the bath, leaning against the edge with her head pillowed on her arms.

Thane had meant to fetch towels for them to dry off but watching her bask bonelessly in the water made him reconsider. Sinking down beside her, he brushed aside the strands of hair stuck to her forehead and kissed her cheek.

They had nowhere else to be for the evening.

[jawritter]

The Arrangement

Part 5

Summery: You are a young girl that was raised in a small church in Dallas, TX. One of the only churches left in the state that still practices arranged marriages. When your betrothed ran off to California you thought you'd escape the fate you were trained for ever since a small child. Now upon the death your parents your fate seemed to be inescapable as he's returned, and is ready to take you as his bride.

Book Warnings: Arranged marriage, loss of virginity, smut, unprotected sex, angst, language, suicide attempt, battles with anxiety, struggles with mental illness, age gap (about 11 years), I think that’s it, chapters will have warnings of their own!

Chapter Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex, insecure reader, lose of virgintiy and all the fun stuff that comes along with that, angst, fluff, language, I think that’s about it guys.

Word Count: 2518

A/N: This book is a book about Christian and church based arranged marriages, I would like to take this moment to say that I DO NOT have ANYTHING against the Chirstian faith, and mean absolutely no harm to anyone! Especially Jensen’s family! This is a complete work of fiction, and should be treated as such!

Beta’d by the amazing @deanwanddamons who was awesome enough to do all this for me! It was a lot of work, and she deserves all the praise for it!!

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Want More? Check Out My Masterlist!!

***MASTERLIST***

***SERIES MASTERLIST***

The sound of the shower running filtered through the bedroom from the bathroom. 

It was like a constant roar in the background. 

Your heart was pounding, your chest felt like it had a thousand pound weight sitting on it, and you were shaking slightly, desperately trying to control your breathing.

When Jensen is done with his shower he's going to come in  and expect you to become his wife, in the biblical sense. 

It terrified you. 

You wished you could have talked to your Mom one more time. You wish you could get some type of reassurance that everything was going to be okay.

"He's not an asshole. He's going to do everything he can to make this as painless as possible. He's gone above and beyond what he had to in order to make you feel more comfortable and relaxed." You whispered to yourself.

You'd heard the horror stories about the first time with your husband in an arranged marriage type situation before from the girls in the church who had already had their husbands at a young age. 

The stories of pain, blood, crying, the uncaring guy who just relentlessly pounds himself into you to get what he needs from you.

You were so wrapped up in your thoughts you didn't hear the water turn off in the bathroom, or the door open.

You felt the covers pull back and the bed dip under Jensen's weight, nearly causing you to jump out of your skin. Jensen froze, half way in laying on his side; everything from the hip down covered up, his shirtless form still glistening slightly from the shower he'd just taken, and his hair still wet, sticking up at cute, random angles.

His green eyes bore into yours as he held the cover in one hand, looking at you carefully.

"I...I'm sorry... I thought you heard me coming." he said quietly, slowly sinking the rest of his well toned body down on the bed.

You took a deep, shaky breath, trying to get your breathing under control. 

"No... No I was.. It doesn't matter, it's okay."

He watched you closely for a moment, making sure you weren't going to totally freak out on him, and once you seemed to have calmed down completely Jensen slowly scooted over to where you were laying; draping his arm around your middle and pulling you close to his strong chest, holding you tight to him.

You'd be a liar if you said that his strong arms wrapped around you, and pressing you into his solid form didn't feel more comforting than it probably should have. He gently pressed his lips to the top of your head as his fingers started playing with your hair. You couldn't help but nuzzle into his neck and lean tighter to his hold.

You don't know how long you both lay there while you finally fully relaxed into his hold, just enjoying the feeling of his arms holding you tightly like he was trying to piece all that was broken in you over this week back together, before his hand started making little trailing patterns up and down your back, starting to explore your body. Running his fingers lightly over your hips and thighs. Up and down the back of your arms.

"Baby... I need to know something, and I need you to be honest with me. There's no wrong answer here, I just need to know...Have you ever done this before?"

Here you were, a 29 year old woman, but as soon as the words left his mouth you felt like a small child that was asked to confess a big embarrassing secret to the older boy you have a crush on.

You were  unable to form words, afraid your voice would give  away  how scared and sad you were. You only shook your head ‘no’ slightly against him.

Jensen nodded and kissed your forehead lightly, before unwrapping his arms from you. You immediately felt cold as soon as he was gone . Thankfully you didn't have time to really react before he was back in the bed with you.

This time you were paying attention when he got into the bed, and you noticed that he was completely naked, and already slightly hard.

Swallowing hard you try not to stare when he pulls the covers up over his hips, hiding what he had in his hand on the nightstand behind him.

He quickly wrapped you back up in his arms and pulled you back to him.

This time though you were trembling slightly. That gut wrenching fear starts to build in your stomach again.

"It's okay sweetheart." he said, peppering your face with little kisses. It would have been cute if you weren’t so damn terrified. "I've got you. I promise I'm not going to hurt you at all."

You nod your head, still unable to find your words. Still afraid.

Running his fingers ever so lightly up and down your spine with one hand he gently places his other under your chin, lifting your face up to meet his gaze.

"I want you to enjoy this too. I want  to have a REAL marriage with you, not just some arrangement of convenience. I had one of those before, and it didn't work out that great. I want us to fall in love with each other, not just get used to each other. I meant every word I vowed to you today. I'd never do anything at all to hurt you, okay."

"Okay." you told him in a small voice.

Searching your eyes one more time, as if looking for a sign that you couldn't do this, or that you were going to freak out on him, he pulled you as close to him as possible, kissing you deeply and passionately, slipping his tongue between your lips, exploring your mouth again. His taste overwhelms you. The smell of his soap, a light dusting of his cologne, and something that was just uniquely Jensen surrounding you.

Finally pulling away to let you breath air that wasn't provided by him, not that you minded one damn bit, he worked his way slowly down your jaw to the sensitive spot just below your ear, his hands exploring your body, touching all of you, like he was trying to commit everything to memory.

Working his way down your neck, he began leaving little wet, open mouth kisses and nipping lightly at the skin until he reached your pulse points, biting down on you a little harder, drawing a surprised quiet moan from you, as a shock wave went from your neck straight to your core.

Reaching down, he quickly removed the layers of clothing that you were wearing. He pulled your oversized shirt off quickly, followed by your pants and underwear in one swift movement , reaching behind you as his lips met yours again, he quickly undid your bra, throwing it into the growing pile on the floor.

The kiss became a little more needy as he pulled your now naked body flush to his. His breathing starting to become heavier.

Working his way back down to your neck, he stared  the descent to your breasts. As soon as you realized his goal, your own self consciousness kicked in, and you quickly stopped his progression.

Stopping immediately, his gaze snapped up to yours, his pupils blown wide with lust. The beautiful olive green you were quickly  beginning to get so attached to was barely visible. The look in them showed genuine concern even still, and he made his way back up to you quickly.

"Did I do something wrong? Am I going too fast?"

You couldn't answer him, too embarrassed to tell him you didn't want him to look at you that closely, afraid you would fall below the standards of the women in Hollywood that he was so accustomed to with their perfect bodies, and supermodel careers. 

Afraid of the fact that your thighs were a little thicker than what they probably should have been. Afraid your stomach, which wasn't flat and solid like those other girls you saw in the magazines, would turn him off , and he would reject you.You  looked away from him and shook your head no, afraid if you spoke you'd start to cry. Jensen caught on very quickly when you pulled the cover tighter over yourself when he moved, and it uncovered your bodies a little more.

Putting his hand on the side of your face he forced you to look at him, his expression  soft. "Baby girl your beautiful, you don't have to hide from me."

Taking your hand in his, he slowly guided it down his body, placing it softly against his rock hard erection that was already starting to leak precum from it’s tip, you had barely even touched him  as you were  too shy to let your hands wander his body  that much when he was kissing you. 

"Does that seem like someone who is not attracted to you?"

You just sat there for a moment, not saying anything, shocked at how large the man was, and you wondered how in the world he was going to fit. A whole other fear all together taking hold. What if you physically couldn't do this for him?

"I'm not going to hurt you, I'm not going to turn you away, I like the fact that you're not perfect." he told you.

Running his hand lightly from your hip down the outside of your thigh, he placed another sweet, gentle kiss on your lips, making it a little harder to concentrate on your fears and insecurities as your body began to react to his touch, the ache in your core growing as his hands and mouth did their magic.

Finally, he worked his way from the back of your knee up to your core, running soft circles against your now throbbing clit., drawing a gasp out of you as he slipped one of his fingers inside of you, pumping in and out of you slowly, his mouth never leaving yours, kissing you drunk.

Then he added another, still keeping the same steady pace, stretching you in an almost painful, but pleasurable way. When he had the motion of his thumb rubbing against your little bundle of nerves as he continued to curl his fingers inside of you, you were thrown over the edge quickly. Your orgasm took you by surprise, as your body arched into his, and you dug your nails into his shoulders.

He worked you gently until you had come down from your high, pulling his fingers away from you; he licked his fingers clean and moaned.

"Fuck baby girl, you taste good."

Before you could respond to him, his lips were back on yours, kissing you more forcefully.

When he finally broke the kiss, he reached over to the nightstand, and grabbed a tub from it, putting the gel liquid on his fingers and running them over your core, then repeating the action over himself.

 He lined himself up with your opening pumping himself a few times before inserting the tip of his massive length into you.

"Relax baby, or this is going to hurt way more than it would if you'd just relax." he said, running his fingers through your hair, brushing it away from your face.

Taking a deep breath, you force yourself to relax as he begins to kiss you slowly again. As soon as he felt you relax, he slid himself into you in one smooth thrust. Stretching you, and filling you in a way that you'd never experienced,  pain that you hadn’t expected to be that strong radiating from your core all the way to your knees. You took a deep gasp of air, biting down hard on your lip, and he wrapped his arms around you tightly, pulling you flush with his body, but staying  inside you to allow you to adjust to him while he ran his fingers through your hair comfortingly.

“It’s okay sweetheart, it will pass if you relax, just relax.”

As soon as he felt you relax around him again, he slowly started to thrust in and out of you, pulling himself almost all the way out before sliding back home in a slow, but deep rhythm . At first the feeling was overwhelming, but the more he found his rhythm, pain quickly turned to a whole other feeling entirely.

Deep waves of pleasure coursed their way through your body, as he hit that place deep inside of you that you had no idea existed. Over and over again with each brush of his thick cock against your velvet center. 

Small moans started to fall from both of you as he pushed you both higher and higher. The coil in your stomach tightens, ready to explode with every release.

Jensen held you close to his body the whole time like his life depended on the two of you holding onto each other. 

Finally his thrusts became more erratic.

"Fuck sweetheart I'm not going to last long, your so tight. Cum with me?”

Reaching down between your bodies, finding your clit with ease, he started rubbing harsh circles, matching his own quickening pace, your hips instinctively rolling with his, meeting his every thrust. It wasn’t long before your  orgasm came crashing over you, throwing you over the edge, with him right behind you, thrusting into you lazily as you both rode out your high and his seed coated the inside of you, filing you with a warm feeling you'd never felt before.

Finally when you both came down from your high he rolled you over on your side still keeping you close to him for a moment before pulling out of you.

Kissing the top of your forehead, he quickly got out of the bed, and headed toward the bathroom, emerging just a few moments later with a warm damp washcloth.

Reaching down he cleaned you up gently, making sure not to apply to much pressure. Then cleaned himself up before throwing the rag across the room.

Climbing back into bed he pulled you close to his chest again, his body warm and comforting against your own.

Exhaustion had hit you, making it hard to keep your eyes open. This had been the longest day of your life, and it was starting to catch up to you quickly. Jensen's arms wrapped tightly around you, and his body pressed closer to your own, nothing between you, just skin on skin. It was a comfort you didn't think you'd ever get to experience.

"You okay?" he asked you, playing with your hair as he held you close.

"Hmm.. Just really tired."

"Sleep baby girl. I got you. Your mine now, I'm not going anywhere."

With that, your eyes began to close, your body giving into the need to rest in more comfort than you'd had since your whole life was turned upside down. Resting in the arms of a man that you were very quickly falling in love with.

You could only hope he felt the same.

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

Tag List: @deanwanddamons​ @imabitch4jensen​ @rvgrsbrns​ @bi-danvers0​ @onethirstyunicorn​ @i-love-superhero​ @akshi8278​ @lyss-dw79​ @magssteenkamp​ @lemondropirwin​ @squirrelnotsam​ @hobby27​ @spnbaby-67​ @mrsjenniferwinchester​ @defenderrosetyler​ @screechingartisancashbailiff​ @thecreatiivecorner​  @aflamboyanceofgays @vicmc624​ @busy-bee-angel-misska​ @justanotherwinchester​ @brilovesdeanwinchester​ @idksupernatural​ @lyarr24​ @amandamdiehl​

[anythingandeverything1d]

Oops

“TELL THAT BARTENDER MAKE THE MOTHERFUCKER STRONGER, I WANNA GO ALL NIGHT LONGER, A COUPLE ROUNDS GOING DOWN LIKE WATER, I WANNA GO ALL NIGHT LONGER!” You were screaming along to the music, standing on a table, and holding a bottle of vodka up in the air. You looked down at Harry, his green eyes filled with amusement and a little bit of worry as he scooted closer, prepared to catch you if you fell. Instead, you jumped down into his arms and laughing and offering him another drink. “Come on H, live a little.”

“I think you might need to live a little less...you could get hurt!”

“Please, not when you’re there to catch me.” You laughed and he set you down carefully, but stayed close enough that your hands were touching. “Dance with me.”

“I think it’s time to go.”

“Pleaseeee.”

Harry shook his head with a slight laugh but spun you in a circle and pushed you towards the empty space where people were dancing. “You’re crazy you know that.” 

“But you love me.”

Harry didn’t reply, instead he just smirked and shook his head. You danced to the music, backing up into Harry and slightly grinding against him. He looked at you with a raised eyebrow but went along with it. The two of you had been friends for years and this was just one of those things Harry had grown to accept. Your relationship was touchy, flirty, and cute, but it never crossed the line. “COPS!”

Harry froze, his face covered in panic. The last thing he needed was paparazzi to find him arrested at some frat party he hadn’t even been invited to. You grabbed his hand and pulled him to the back door, running through the yards and back out to the street where you had parked. You reached for the drivers door with a laugh but Harry pulled you back and shook his head. “I think I should drive.”

You just smiled and raised an eyebrow. “I’m totally fine to drive.”

Harry laughed and helped you into the passenger seat, “Says the girl downing straight vodka while dancing on a table.”

“Hey, you make me sound like a stripper or something.”

Harry shook his head with a grin, “Give me the keys.”

You reluctantly handed them over and he jumped in. “Fine, but you’re technically not sober either and with all the cops around there’s no way you’ll make it home.”

“I’m not driving home.”

“Where are we going then?”

“There’s a hotel down the street.” You looked over at him surprised and he laughed. “It’s not like I can go home like this.”

“Yeah, cause you being drunk is really going to throw Madi for a loop.” you teased.

“I don’t understand why you don’t like her.”

“I don’t either, but I do know she’s not the one for you.”

“Oh yeah? How do you know?”

“I’m your best friend. Duh.”

“Okay well if she’s not the one, then who is?”

“I don’t know.” you looked out the window and frowned, trying to think of the answer. Harry pulled into the hotel, crookedly parked and dragged you inside to get a room. After Harry got the key you grabbed it, and held it up, “Race you.” you laughed running toward the elevator and tripping in the lobby. Harry sighed and laughed, picking you up and tossing you over his shoulder as you protested. Once inside the room he carefully dropped you to the bed, your hair a mess and your feet killing you from the heels. You kicked them off and dropped the dress to the floor earning a look from Harry. “What? I’m not about to wear that to bed.”

“Well then I’m not wearing this.” Harry dropped his pants to the floor and tugged off the sweater revealing his muscled chest and tattoos.

“Ohh such a bad boy, stripping down and-”

Harry had raced towards you, his hand covering your mouth and pushing you back on the bed in a fit of laughter. “Say it again.” Harry dared.

“Such. A. Bad. Bo-” Harry didn’t let you finish, he had you pinned to the bed, his hand on your mouth and a grin on his face. 

You stopped laughing and looked at him, licking his hand and laughing harder when he pulled away in disgust. “That is disgusting.”

“Please..” you teased crawling under the bed with a yawn. Harry followed suit and you snuggled up into his arms. “You weren't bad tonight Styles.”

“Wow I actually live up to your standards of frat party behavior?”

“I wouldn’t say that but you did okay.” You could feel the alcohol sitting in your system and your head becoming fuzzier. Harry was also feeling the drinks, his voice was much slower and deeper than normal.

“Okay? There’s nothing I could’ve done more. I mean I was basically a frat boy myself.”

“I mean you didn’t make out with anyone though and that’s kind of a frat boy guarantee.”

“Oh is that why you choose to go to those parties?”

“It’s a perk.” you laugh.

“Well I could fix that you know.”

“Fix what?”

“Making out with someone.”

You laughed and sat up looking at him. “Hows that? Gonna go roam the streets looking for stragglers?”

Harry smirked and shook his head. “No. Like this.” Harry pressed his lips to yours quickly before pulling away with a laugh. “Now who wins?”

You bit your lip and looked at him. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was just finally your brain allowing you to process your feelings but you were aching for more. You leaned in, hovering in front of his lips and looking up at him for a reaction. He looked confused but also didn’t pull away which gave you all the permission you needed to lean in, your lips gently touching his. Your body fell into his, your lips pulling at each others with desperation. Harry had his hands in your hair and you had your hands on his chest. You could feel every inch of Harry waiting which only caused the heat to increase in your body as well. Harry quickly flipped you over, your back pressing into the bed and his body covering yours. Your hands moved to his hair, his to your body. His tongue explored every inch of your chest and stomach before returning to your lips as if he couldn’t get enough. You groaned into the kiss as he bit down, pulling your bottom lip. Your hands moved to his briefs and then inside, gripping the length of him and causing a stutter in his kiss. He quickly pulled off your bra and underwear as you tugged the briefs to his ankles. Harry positioned himself above you, ready to move forward. You broke the kiss, looking into his green eyes with uncertainty. “Are you sure about this?”

“Are you?” Harry asked breathlessly. “We don’t have to-”

Your response was pulling him back to your body, your hands raking down his back as he pushed in, moving faster and going deeper. “Fuck Harry.” You groaned and he kept going, his lips pulling at yours.

“I’m close-”

“Me too...”

Harry pushed harder one more time, freezing afterwards and collapsing into you as he hit his max. The feeling of him inside you, caused you to do the same, gasping for air as you watched his eyes roll back. After a minute of just sitting there, Harry pulled out and fell flat to his back next to you. You caught your breath before moving towards him, and drifting off to sleep in his arms.

Harry’s ringing phone woke you both earlier than wanted. Light was shining into the hotel room and you groaned, rolling off his chest and covering your face with a pillow. “Harry get the phone” you grumbled. He moaned and rolled over reaching for the sound.

“Hello?” Harry got up and walked to the bathroom to continue his conversation and you rolled over, grabbing your phone and checking all of the messages from last night. Harry walked back in butt ass naked still and you froze suddenly remembering the events of last night. You had crossed the line. And even worse, you had loved every minute of it. “I uh...I think we should probably get going....”

“Yeah...” you agreed. You climbed out of bed and searched for all of your clothing while Harry got dressed as well. The two of you didn’t say anything but continued to move around each other and then out the door. Once in the car you looked over at him, contemplating what to say. 

Harry caught you looking and laughed, “What?”

“Hmm?” you asked distracted, your gaze going back out the window.

“You keep staring at me.”

“Oh...sorry.”

Harry raised an eyebrow but continued driving. “Do you want to stop for breakfast?” 

“Yeah....food would be good.” You had worse hangovers, but this one wasn’t easy. Your head hurt, you felt exhausted, and you couldn’t quit thinking about Harry which only made things harder. Harry pulled over at a small diner and ordered a smorgasbord of food while you settled for eggs and toast. He clearly wasn’t feeling the greatest either, the eyes under his bags, the messy hair, and the smell of alcohol still on his clothes. The two of you ate in silent, every so often you would catch him looking at you as if debating what to say. Harry paid the check and you walked to the car. You bit your lip, you were only 20 minutes from home and if you didn’t talk about it now you knew it would be one of those things that was never mentioned again....and you didn’t want that.

Harry got in the car and looked over at you. “About last night...”

“Yeah....it was..”

“Yeah...”

“(y/n)....I want you to know I don’t regret anything. I don’t blame you-”

“I don’t regret it either....actually you know how you said I didn’t like Madi and I said it was because I knew she wasn’t the one and then you said who is?”

“Yeah...”

“Well...I mean....last night....it got me kind of thinking....that...what if....I’m the one....”

“What?”

“Harry.” You sighed and looked over at him, turning in your seat so you could completely face him. “I like you. And not like as a friend but like as more. I don’t know how long I’ve felt this but every time we are together theres just this feeling and I don’t feel it with anyone else. I’ve always kind of ignored it but last night....I don’t know I just realized that maybe you’re the one...” You bit down on your lip and looked away. You weren’t expecting him to respond but you also hoped that deep down he felt the same. 

Harry kept driving, not saying anything and thinking about what you had just said. It was more complicated for him because he was already in a relationship. Not that his relationship was great...in fact there were a lot of problems because she traveled a lot and he traveled a lot and they were on almost opposite schedules which meant they spent very little time together. He pulled up to your apartment and turned to say something but you were already out of the car, embarrassed by what you had admitted to your best friend. You closed the door, running up the stairs and looking back down at his car as he drove away, the gut wrenching feeling taking over.

Harry stopped at the gate and sighed, hitting the steering wheel, frustrated at himself. He looked back through his mirror, catching the glimpse of you leaning over the balcony to watch him drive away. “I like you too....” he mumbled as he looked down at the ringing phone with Madi’s name at the top. 

---

A request I got! I didn’t finish the end but thinking maybe a part 2!

xoxo

[stayextrafrosty]

I’m Dying for a Taste of You: Chapter 2

Chapter Title: Go On and Tear Me Apart

Roswell New Mexico Malex Vampire AU

A/N: Everyone really seemed to like this and I couldn’t get it out of my head so have another chapter. This chapter has a lot more sex and some sprinklings of plot. Some more niche kinks are explored. I don’t expect consistent updates so I’ll never leave a chapter on a major cliffhanger. Again, PLEASE READ WARNINGS

Warnings: Dom/sub, cock warming, consensual non-consent, anal fisting

Read on AO3 // Masterlist

-

What was Alex supposed to do now? Could he walk back into the office saying he failed a mission so spectacularly that he even ended up getting claimed by his target? Somehow he figured that wouldn’t go well.

Michael had snuck him out the back door of the blood ball. He drove them both home in an old pickup that didn’t at all fit in with the usual aesthetic of vampires. Most of them were all about luxury and flashy possessions. The only thing Alex could think about on that ride was how hot it would be to fuck in the bed under the stars.

His whole mind was nothing but dirty thoughts. Whatever Michael did to him, there’s no way it didn’t involve the constant horniness. It wasn’t even this bad when he went through puberty. Not that Michael wasn’t fully prepared to satisfy him. Alex hadn’t gotten a good look at the outside of his house before he was being dragged inside and shoved up against the wall.

Michael’s mouth was all over him. He sucked at the mark on his neck while grinding his hips into Alex. He couldn’t help but try to tug him closer. He hadn’t thought his body could handle anymore but he was rock hard by the time Michael was pulling his jeans down along with his slacks. He had spun him to face the wall and pushed into him again. Alex was still open from their earlier activities.

Michael had his forehead pressed to the top of his spine and his hands worked Alex’s cock. Neither of them had lasted long, both grunting out the other’s name as Alex came over the wooden floors and Michael filled him again.

And now sunlight filtered in from the edges of the blackout shade. Alex was naked and covered with soft cotton blend sheets. He could distantly hear Michael in the shower. He wanted to join him but he didn’t think he could handle any more sex. He grabbed his phone from the bedside table to check the time.

He was late. There were already missed calls from his partner Kyle, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave yet. He wanted to take a sick day that he rarely ever used but with the importance of the mission, it wasn’t an option. He needed to at least report back.

His stomach rumbled at him and he briefly wondered if Michael would even have food. He buried his face in the pillow and groaned. Then he finally pulled himself up and sat on the edge of the bed. He ran his fingers over the area of his thigh Michael had bit yesterday. There was nothing. Not even a hint of it having ever happened.

Then he ran his fingers over the bite mark on his neck. Why hadn’t that healed? He grabbed his pants and underwear from the floor. He could get away with it today but he needed new clothes. After pulling his underwear on, he worked on his leg. Jeans took a little longer to put on but he couldn’t go to work in sweats.

Alex stood and walked out of the room, retracing his steps from the night before. There weren’t many stairs but the lack of a hand railing made it more complicated. He let his fingers drag over the wall for stability. He hated building standards sometimes.

The kitchen was a room off from the front area they had walked in last night. It wasn’t huge but certainly fancier than any kitchen he had been in before. The appliances looked new but the theme was more rustic. The appliances were all matte black but most other things were wood and granite based. Alex guessed the cabinets were cherry but couldn’t be sure. The granite was black but sparkled with white, making it look like stars.

He pulled the fridge open, happy to find it fully stocked with normal food. There was also a corner dedicated to bags of blood. He had never thought about vampires not drinking from a human. Every depiction they had been shown in the academy showed them as gorging from the necks of humans.

He picked one up and turned it over in his hand a couple times. There were labels signaling the type and a ‘best by’ date, but no other information. Had he been expecting a name? Maybe. He supposed it wasn’t necessary information.

“I think that’s mine. Unless you’re curious,” a voice materialized next to his ear. Alex jumped what felt like a foot in the air and he spun toward Michael, who had an amused grin on his face.

“Christ, would it kill you to make some noise,” Alex scolded. Michael just chuckled and took the bag of blood from his hand to set it on the counter. He was shirtless with sweats that still showed off the outline of his cock.

“Sorry.” He openly ran his eyes over every part of Alex. He blushed under the intense attention. “Do you make a habit of walking around shirtless, because I approve.” As he worked his way back up, his gaze lingered on the mark. Alex watched him smile and run his fingers over the mark.

He shivered even as a warmth spread through his body. His eyes fluttered shut and leaned back against the still open fridge. His head rolled to the side as Michael pressed his body against him, running his mouth over his neck. His one hand joined the other on Alex’s hips.

Alex lifted a hand to his hair, the damp curls tangling around his fingers. He heard Michael inhale deeply and then groan quietly. He kissed up and down his throat, occasionally nipping at the skin. Alex felt his fingers dig into his hips.

Then he was pulling away, causing Alex to almost stumble forward after him, as though Michael had been holding him up. He turned away from Alex and grabbed the bag of blood from the counter. He opened up a cabinet on the other side of the kitchen and pulled out a glass.

What just happened? I thought…

Alex had to catch his breath. His mark almost throbbed. As if telling him exactly what he was supposed to do for Michael. But he had been rejected.

“You just going to stand there with the door open?” Alex blinked himself back into reality. Michael had a raised eyebrow and a teasing smile. Alex blushed and turned to look for something easy to make. He settled on eggs, pulling three from the package.

“Um, do you want me to make you anything,” Alex asked? Michael chuckled and he realized the stupidity of the question.

“No. Don’t worry about it.” Alex grabbed the hanging pan and placed it on a burner.

“Why do you have all that food if you don’t eat it?”

“For you.”

Alex stopped in his movements to look back at him. His smile had transformed into something soft and his head rested in his palm. Another blush rose to his face and he cursed himself. Since when had he become so damn sentimental?

“What do you mean for me,” he asked instead?

“After you fell asleep last night I went shopping. I did drag you back here without much warning after all. Besides, the least I can do as your Sire is take care of you.” Sire?

“What does that mean?” His eyebrows drew together, smile falling to a slight frown.

“Last night I was joking, but now I’m serious. What did they teach you in the academy?” Alex turned back to his eggs. Less than he originally thought, apparently. “Sire is one of the nice ways of saying I’m the one who claimed you. A lot of other vamps use words like master or mistress. I never cared for those terms much.”

Alex’s eggs snapped in the pan as he scrambled them. He supposed he would have to get used to those terms. Certain vampires weren’t exactly appreciative of humans. They viewed them as food and nothing else. He had thought Michael was one of those not even a day earlier.

He dumped his food on a plate and sat across from Michael at the table. He pushed the eggs around with the fork. He was hungry but he needed to know more about the world he had jumped headfirst into.

“When will this mark on my neck fade?” Michael’s fingers twitched to half close his fist.

“It won’t. At least, not completely.” Alex met his eyes seeing the hurt there. He reached for his hand, wanting to take back the question.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know that. It’s not that I want it gone or anything it’s just in a kind of difficult spot to cover.” Michael squeezed his hand back.

“It’s alright. I’m sorry I didn’t think about that last night. I couldn’t think of anything except making you mine,” he said leaning in, smile returning to his face. Alex glanced down at his mouth. Was it ok to kiss him? What was their relationship exactly? Sure Michael was his… sire… but what else?

Michael apparently made the decision for him. He stood and closed the distance between them, pressing his mouth to Alex’s gently. His free hand held his face. Alex tested the water and licked his bottom lip. Michael opened up for him easily as he ran the tip of his tongue over his canines and then massaged his tongue. They both moaned quietly.

Michael’s fingers moved from his face to his hair. Alex knew his food was getting cold but it was just a passing thought. His mark throbbed lightly as Michael kissed him. The prick of his teeth warmed him and his cock started to respond. Michael groaned and pulled himself away.

Alex felt the cold as soon as he was gone. He watched the muscles in his back as he left the kitchen. He clenched his fists and shoved his chair back, hurrying after him. What was his problem. It was like he didn’t want him anymore.

Alex caught up to him in the front room before he made it up the stairs. He yanked him back to face him.

“Why do you keep doing that? Do you not want me or something?” Michael pleaded with his eyes before turning his head away.

“Alex please,” he begged. He could have easily broken away if he really wanted to.

“No. Explain it to me. I’m not a mind reader Guerin.” He shook his head, eyes squeezing shut. He pulled his arm away and ran his hand over his face and jaw. He tried moving back. Alex grabbed him again, thinking he was about to run.

Michael grabbed him instead, shoving his hips against the nearby couch. His teeth bared to Alex’s face. Alex saw the anger and pain but his body reacted anyway. His mark seemed to scream at him to submit but he didn’t want to back down. He never broke eye contact even as Michael snarled at him.

“I can fucking smell you. I’m aware of every change in your body and it’s driving me mad to control myself.”

“Why?”

“Because,” he started, looking away first. He let his head fall to Alex’s shoulder. “I don’t want to hurt you. With lust comes hunger. And I know your mark is telling you to offer yourself to me but I could easily drain you.”

Alex didn’t move. Oh. He was worried.

He lifted his arms slowly to wrap around Michael’s neck. He pet his head gently. He could feel Michael panting and gripping his hips. His lips pressed to his shoulder and the moved up slowly. His teeth scratched him but never drew blood. He kissed the mark, whimpering with need. Alex’s heart broke. He had to do something.

He pushed Michael away from him gently. When he finally looked at Alex again, he lifted his arm, pressing his wrist against his lips. He could control him better if he needed to.

“I’ll be fine. You seem to forget I’ve been trained to fight off vampires.” His eyes were wide, searching his expression for any sign of hesitation. He wouldn’t find any.

Michael slowly ran his hand over his arm, gipping it gently. He turned it so the angle was better. He let his eyes flutter closed as he licked the soft skin of his wrist. Alex sighed at the feeling and wrapped his free arm around Michael’s shoulder.

The pinch of his teeth was quickly becoming familiar. The sensitive nerves in his wrist complained but not enough to make him want to stop. The warmth burned through his body and his fingers dug into Michael’s back. He let a small moan slip and Michael pressed his hips against him, showing that his condition wasn’t much better.

Alex watched him as a drop slid down his arm. He seemed to sense he was being watched and opened his eyes, meeting his gaze. Alex had never seen a more alluring sight. All he could do was smile. The dizziness returned far quicker than the previous night. He would need to stop him before he became too weak to do so.

It never actually got to that point. Michael was pulling his teeth out and running his tongue over the wound. He ran his tongue down his arm, collecting the drop that spilled. Michael didn’t stop there. When he got to his elbow, he started pressing kisses up his bicep and shoulder. He stopped short of his neck, instead lifting his head to kiss his lips.

The kiss was lazy and sweet. Alex could pick up the taste of his own blood but he didn’t want to stop. Michael’s hands moved to the waist of his jeans, popping open the button and pushing them down. Alex moaned against his lips.

Michael pulled back and grinned at him, fangs not fully retracted. He proceeded to drop to one knee, pulling his pants down with the movement. He lifted Alex’s good leg and pulled the jeans off quickly so he wouldn’t be balancing on the prosthesis for too long. He repeated the action with the other leg more carefully.

After he stood back up and kissed Alex again. He ran his hands over his body, making Alex sigh at the gentle caresses. He moved his hands to his lower back, then down over his ass, squeezing firmly. Alex chuckled. His hands continued their movement down to the back of his thighs.

“Wrap your arms around me,” he ordered. Alex didn’t hesitate and pulled him as close as possible.

Michael kissed him again. He hardly registered that he was being lifted into the air and set down on the back of the couch. “Legs.” Alex could easily figure what he meant. He wrapped his legs around his waist. He was being lifted again, Michael’s lips still pressed against his own. He felt his back hit a wall.

Alex tugged at his hair, earning him a groan and a quick bite on his lip. He felt Michael pressing against his hole. He hazily wondered when he had time to remove his sweats. Not that it mattered.

Michael spread his cheeks and pushed up and into him. Alex yelped, half in pain, half in need. He was still prepped from the stretching yesterday but without lube, it was rougher than he was used to. He scratched Michael’s back, making him hiss and thrust his hips forward roughly.

Alex broke the kiss and let his head fall to his shoulder, moaning loudly. Michael thrust again, more gentle this time.

“I’m gunna cum in your ass. Then you’re going to sit on my cock ‘til I’m hard again and can fuck you properly.” His own cock jumped in anticipation. He nodded wordlessly and he heard Michael chuckle. “Fuck you’re perfect.”

Then he was fucking into him again. He could feel the desire coiling in his gut and he was so close. Michael’s name tumbled from his lips then he felt his hips stutter in their movement. The throbbing in his ass signaled him to Michael’s orgasm. He was wound so tightly and he just needed a bit more.

“Fuck… I didn’t…” he started.

“I know. And you won’t either. Not until I want you to,” Michael said next to his ear. He groaned and tried to rock his hips. No such luck.

Michael carried him to the couch and sat, adjusting Alex’s legs so they were kneeling on either side of him. Alex whimpered at how deep he was, completely filling him. He felt the cum leaking out around his hole. Natural lubricant.

Michael held his hips still and kissed his chest and shoulders. Alex was digging his own nails into his shoulders.

“I will never get tired of seeing you stretched around my cock. It’s so hot. Squeeze that ass around me.” Alex did as he was told and he regret it immediately. He felt every inch of him as though it was being burned into his body’s memory. He tried to grind down unsuccessfully.

Michael released his hips but he didn’t dare move. He wrapped a hand loosely around his cock and stroked him. He leaned up and nuzzled his throat.

“You let me feed from you even though I said not to. That wasn’t smart. I’ll punish you like this when you needlessly put your life in danger.” Alex whimpered. If this was punishment then what were the rewards?

His thumb teased the head of his cock, rubbing the precum around. His mouth dropped open. It wasn’t enough to bring him over the edge but he was definitely on it. His legs trembled and his whole body was coiled tight. One thrust and it would be all over. He heard Michael chuckle.

“I never said you couldn’t try to speed up this process. But keep those hips still.”

Alex grabbed his face and kissed him. His hands wound through his hair and pulled. Michael sighed happily. He squeezed his muscles around him again, somehow managing to keep himself from grinding down. He took his bottom lip and bit down, tugging on it. Michael’s hand squeezed him briefly.

Biting. Duh.

Alex smirked and tore his mouth away from Michael. He kissed over his jaw, nipping gently. He groaned quietly. He kissed down his neck with an open mouth, licking and sucking at the skin. He found the spot where his pulse thumped against his lips.

“Fuck Alex. You’re playing with fire,” Michael warned. His cock was starting to harden inside of him again.

Alex flattened his tongue over the spot just as he did when he was about to bite him. He licked and then kissed. He bit down. Not hard but enough to get the job done. His cock jerked inside of him, making Alex moan.

Michael grabbed his hips and pulled him down while thrusting up. Alex’s jaw clenched at the surprise. He tasted blood. Michael pulled him off and back down again. His hips rolled, trying to take him deeper.

“Look who’s a fast learner. Guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” Michael taunted. Their hips fell into a rhythm and Alex was spiraling. He had been kept on the edge for so long it was like he couldn’t get off it. He gasped and moaned with his face buried against Michael’s neck.

He grabbed his throbbing cock firmly, so every roll of his hips had him fucking into his fist. Michael groaned watching him. His fingers dug into his skin and he shifted his angle. The head of his cock rubbed against his prostate. He called out and his entire body spasmed.

White ropes spilled between them. Mostly over Michael’s chest. Alex found himself on his back, bent in half and legs spread wide. He chewed on his lip, sure he was stretched open for Michael’s eyes.

“You are probably the sexiest man alive,” he said, slipping himself back in. “And all. Fucking. Mine.” Every word was accented with a rough jerk of his hips. Alex saw stars, back arching as much as he could with Michaels weight on top of him.

He kissed him then. Michael thrust into him roughly and erratically. Their mouths fell open and they breathed each other in. The man above him grunted and shoved himself in a final time, painting his insides.

Michael rested his forehead against Alex’s as he released his legs and collapsed on top of him. He pressed lazy kisses to his face. The sweetness was broken from Alex’s stomach growling loudly at them.

Michael snorted as Alex burst into chuckles. He had planned to eat hadn’t he?

“You better eat. No distractions this time.” He rolled off and walked around to grab his sweats from the floor. Alex watched his ass and grinned.

“I’m going to get you back for all this at some point,” he teased, sitting up. Michael looked over his shoulder at him and winked.

“I look forward to it.” He picked up Alex’s pants and tossed them at him. He just shook his head and began the process of getting them on.

Suffice to say the eggs were cold.

-

Alex was redressing after his shower when the fantasy ended. There was a knock at the front door which Michael had answered. He assumed it was a delivery. Then there was a gunshot and yelling.

“Manes! Where are you?” Kyle? Alex rushed out of the room, grabbing his gun on top of the dresser as he passed. He lifted the gun as he all but jumped from the last couple stairs.

Michael was crumpled on the ground, teeth fully extended and snarling at his partner. His hand was pressed to his gut where blood was dripping onto the wooden floors. Alex panicked, dropping his gun and stumbling over to him, falling to his knees.

“Alex! What the hell,” Kyle yelled, confusion evident. “That thing is going to kill you if you don’t get away.” His brain hardly registered the words. Instead he pulled Michael close pressing his own hand over the wound.

“Get… Away…” he growled out. Alex shook his head. He didn’t think his body would let him move even if he wanted to. Tears slipped down his cheeks. He couldn’t even give him blood to heal. His mark throbbed but any further blood loss would bring him closer to death than he wanted to be.

Alex finally acknowledged Kyle, turning toward him and begging.

“Please. Help me.” His gun pointed at the two of them, eyes not sure where to focus. His mouth hung open as he tried to process what he was seeing. “Kyle! If we don’t do something he’s going to die.”

“That’s the point, Manes! What’s wrong with you?” Kyle finally seemed to notice the mark on his neck. His anger seemed to resurface as he steadied his gun. He clenched his jaw and glared at Michael. “You did this to him. He can’t even think rationally. All you fucking vampires know how to do is manipulate,” he spat out.

Alex cursed. If he left Michael’s side, Kyle would finish him off. Michael had said he didn’t want him to die but there was no choice. He unwrapped the bandage from his wrist, pressing it to his mouth just as he had earlier.

“Alex no!” Alex felt himself being ripped away from Michael and flung to the ground. Another gunshot rang out. He looked on, horrified as Michael had Kyle’s arm gripped in his hand, aiming the gun at the ceiling.

“Don’t touch him,” Michael threatened, voice low and calm. Blood soaked through the shirt from his abdomen. Alex glanced at Kyle, whose face was overtaken with fear. The gun fell out of his hand and clattered to the floor. “How kind of you to make a donation in his place.” Then his teeth sunk into his throat.

Kyle was stunned. At least until the bullet that had been lodged in Michael’s gut clattered to the wooden floor. Alex couldn’t move. All his training and he would have never let this continue for as long as it did. He’d fought off vampires feeding before. But something about this had him frozen to the spot.

Kyle managed to shove him back but the rough treatment meant the bleeding didn’t stop. Alex shook his head back to reality and scrambled to his feet. Michael snarled and made a move for him again.

“Stop!” Kyle stumbled back, hand pressed to his neck. Michael stood over him, body shaking with rage. Blood dripped down his chin and neck. Alex had never been scared of him until that moment.

Alex’s voice had stopped his rampage but now Kyle was the one in danger of dying. His best friend. Who he had left to be attacked by a vampire. A vampire protecting itself and the one it had claimed.

Alex was disgusted with himself.

He crouched in front of his friend. He pulled his t-shirt off to press it to the wound hoping he could slow the bleeding until they got to the hospital. He wrapped Kyle’s arm around his neck to help him stand. He glanced back at Michael. There was a cold blank expression and he couldn’t look at him for long.

Alex hobbled out the door, half carrying Kyle who was still in shock. He reached into the pocket of his partner’s jeans and pulled out the key to the jeep. He helped him into the passenger side before rushing to climb into the other side.

He felt Michael’s eyes on him as he started the car and pulled out. In the haze of everything that had happened, he had forgotten just how vicious a vampire could be.

-

Alex refused to leave Kyle’s side while a doctor examined him. No one had called the police yet and Michael could do jail time for attacking him like that. The self-defense plea was rarely taken seriously in vampire cases.

They wrapped his neck in bandages. Despite how much blood there was, Michael hadn’t actually pierced him that deep.

They sat silently in the office. Alex had taken a hoodie from the back of the jeep. It smelled like Kyle. Alex had been interested in him at one point but nothing had ever come of it. He was still comforted by the spice of his cologne.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. Kyle turned toward him, eyebrows drawn together, a look of confusion softening his sharp features.

“What happened? How did that thing get its fangs in you long enough to claim you?” Alex wrung his hands together.

“I let him.”

“Let him? He was your target, Manes.”

“It felt right.”

“Right? He’s a monster! He nearly killed me and there’s strong evidence that he killed those girls!”

“I know. And I’ll talk to him about that but—”

“The hell you will! We’re sending an entire squad back there to get rid of it. Then this disgusting infatuation you have will be broken.”

His mark burned. Overcome with the desire to protect.

“You attacked him Kyle! He wouldn’t have felt the need to hurt anyone if you hadn’t shot him!” Kyle gave an exasperated laugh, running a hand through his short hair.

“I can’t believe you’re actually defending it.”

Alex didn’t get a chance to respond before the doctor re-entered the room. He watched Kyle. He had always been on his side and suddenly it was like they had never known each other. They walked out together but he didn’t say another word. He handed the keys back to Kyle.

He didn’t offer a ride.

Alex watched him pull out of the parking lot. The sun beat down on the asphalt. He could see the waves of heat rolling off it. It was far too warm for the sweatshirt but he didn’t want to take it off. If it was the last piece of his friend then he would hold onto it.

He stepped back inside the hospital to call himself a taxi. He had no idea what would happen. He was sure Kyle was going to report everything to the chief. When the car pulled up he gave his own address. The pull back to Michael was strong but he wasn’t sure if he could face him. Not that he even knew his address. There was obviously still a lot for them to talk about. What exactly was this mark doing to his mind?

-

The driver made light conversation but he really wasn’t in the mood. He gave short responses as he stared out the window. Alex did his best to give a friendly smile as he paid and tipped the driver.

Alex watched him pull away before turning back to the old pickup that was parked in his driveway. He sighed and made his way to the front door. He didn’t bother looking for the spare key, figuring Michael had left it unlocked for him.

He stepped into the front room and the house was nearly silent but he knew Michael was here somewhere. Nothing looked out of place except for the boots that sat by the front door. Alex walked through the house, glancing in rooms.

He finally pushed the door to his own room open. Michael sat on his bed, looking at a picture of him and Kyle when they first graduated the academy. He had changed his shirt and washed his face but a chill still ran down Alex’s spine.

“You’re terrified of me now.” His voice was quiet. There was no surprise but he couldn’t disguise the hurt. He slowly sat next to him on the bed, taking the photo from his hands.

“I did watch you try to rip out my best friends throat.” Michael was silent and still hadn’t looked at him. He set the picture down on the nightstand. Alex reached toward him slowly. He tried to touch his shoulder but he just jumped up and moved to the window. He pulled the curtains closed, flinching at the sun.

He just stood like that. Staring at the curtains as if he could see through them.

“The mark,” he started slowly. “It will influence your thoughts like a reroute. You’re first instinct will always be for my needs until you can learn to shut it down. I’ve seen this take anywhere from a few days to years. And sometimes never.” Alex stood slowly, moving toward him again.

“So what happened this morning. When you attacked Kyle and I couldn’t do anything…”

“It stopped you. Because that part of you knew why I was doing it.” Michael finally looked at him. His eyes seemed swollen. As though he had been crying.

“To protect me,” he confirmed. He nodded slowly.

“I was selfish. I wanted to experience that kind of devotion for a while. I knew it was wrong but I wanted you for myself. I didn’t want to be one of those vampires who kept their claimed in the dark about everything.” Alex tried to touch him again. He didn’t pull away this time as he ran a hand over his shoulder and wrapped his arm around his neck.

“Kyle is probably going to tell the chief what happened. I’ll protect you.” Michael leaned in to rest his forehead against him. Alex wasn’t sure how long they stood like that. He watched as his nose scrunched as though he smelled something bad.

“Can I make one more selfish request?” Alex pulled back slightly. Could he really refuse?

“Sure.”

“Take this off. It smells like him.” He couldn’t help but chuckle a bit. When he met his eyes, he found them deadly serious. Heat started to coil down. He stepped back and pulled the sweatshirt off, tossing it on the bed.

Michael pulled him in again, burying his face in his shoulder. He inhaled and the fingers that had stuck themselves to Alex’s waist tightened. A low rumble from his chest made Alex’s groin uncomfortable in his jeans.

“It’s on your skin,” he sounded annoyed. But there was an anger too. The same possessiveness that Alex knew was unhealthy but he entertained anyway because of how his body reacted to it.

Michael kissed his shoulders and chest. In the back of Alex’s mind, he knew this probably wasn’t the right time for this. Knew that it was the mark responding to what Michael wanted. He squashed the voice of reason. One more wouldn’t hurt.

Alex grabbed the hem of Michael’s tee and pulled up. He tossed it to the side and pulled their bodies together. He ran his hands over the muscles of his chest and wound his arms around his neck.

Michael kissed him, tongue delving into his open and welcoming mouth. Alex let out a small moan as he tangled his fingers in his hair. He was walked back until he was pressed against a dresser.

They stood there, making out. Why hadn’t Michael moved to go any farther? Was it like this morning? Would the lust trigger the hunger?

“Michael,” he mumbled out through the kisses. Michael hummed a response, moving to kiss at his throat instead.

“I need you,” he gasped out. He could feel the desire through Michael’s jeans as he pressed his hips against him. He groaned and pulled himself away much to Alex’s disappointment.

“Alex… This isn’t you thinking. I can’t keep taking advantage of you like that.”

“Michael, it’s ok…” He shook his head. “You asked for one more request to be selfish. So allow me one.” Michael watched him and then nodded slowly. Alex stepped up to him and ran his fingers over his abs and slipped them into the waist of his jeans. “I don’t want to think of anything except you. At least for a little while.”

Michael let out a shaky breath. Alex got to watch his fangs extend for the first time. It wasn’t their full length but it was enough to make his mark throb. His hand wrapped around his throat, thumb brushing against the mark. He kissed him again, quick and hard.

“You’re the worst kind of addiction. I know I shouldn’t have you and yet you pull me back every time.” Alex moaned at the words. Michael nipped at his lip, drawing a drop of blood and licking it away.

His grip on his throat tightened as he was pulled away from the dresser and all but dragged to the bed. Michael shoved him down and grabbed the waist of his jeans, undoing them quickly before yanking them down. He was still careful of the prosthesis.

Alex had sat up to remove it himself but the look he received in warning made him lay back. Michael was quick with its removal but gentle, setting it to the side as opposed to throwing it away like he proceeded to do with his pants and underwear.

Alex was naked in front of him again while he still kept his pants on. He tried to grab for them but Michael refused to get that close. His gaze kept him pinned to the bed. Michael was the predator and he wanted to play before enjoying his prey.

Alex was scared but not in the same way as before. His cock jumped in anticipation whenever Michael moved or let a finger brush over his skin. He breathed in deeply and his nose twitched in annoyance.

“I’m going to get that damn stench off you.” He grabbed Alex’s ankle and yanked him to the edge of the bed. He sat up and he was eye level with his groin. Michael ran his hands through his hair gently before grabbing two fistfuls and yanking his head back, forcing Alex to look at him.

“Listen to me. This will get rough and I want you to fight back.” Michael crouched down in front of him. “Say the word ‘red’ if you really need me to stop. Tell me you understand.”

“I understand.” Michael kissed him sweetly for a few seconds. Alex wanted to melt into him but that wasn’t where it was going. His hands left his hair, running down to his throat. He pulled back and stood, looking down at him.

It was when his fingers started to squeeze that Alex tried to shove him back. He was quickly reminded of how strong vampires were. Michael stumbled but his hand never released his throat. An almost evil smiled appeared on his face, making Alex’s cock twitch.

“Let go,” he tried ordering. Michael laughed and shook his head.

“Fight me off hunter. Otherwise it’s no fun when I rip your throat out.” A tingle of fear ran down his spine. The pet name was back, sounding demeaning. And yet…

Alex kicked his leg out, surprising Michael, sending him back far enough to force him to let go of his throat. His eyes flashed red as Alex scrambled as far back from him as he could. He had taken his leg, making it harder for him to fight effectively. He wanted to grin.

But Michael was after him again. He pounced at Alex, who was able to roll out of the way but not far enough. His arm was yanked back, pinned behind him in a vice grip. He felt Michael’s breath on his neck and he shuddered, forgetting that he was supposed to be fighting back.

“That all you got, hunter?” He pushed himself back, smacking Michael against the wall. A low laugh graced his ears. He could feel the danger rolling off him. His body tensed and his groin throbbed.

A whimper escaped his lips and Michael growled behind him. He tucked forward, attempting to throw Michael off him by summersaulting. It half worked and Alex was able to escape his grip. But he also ended up slipping to the floor.

Michael crouched above him in less than a second as he tried to scoot himself back. He grabbed his ankle again, stopping his movements. He sniffed the air and dragged his eyes over his body, smirking at Alex’s erection.

“You sure you don’t want this?” He wanted it. He wanted to let Michael devour him if that’s what needed to happen. He continued playing along instead.

“A vampire could never turn me on.” The smile fell from his face and Alex wondered for a moment if he had went too far. His nose twitched and he snarled, showing off his fangs.

“And yet your body says otherwise.” Alex tried to pull away again, jerking his leg to wiggle out of his grasp. Michael yanked him closer, completely overpowering him. “Why don’t we test your theory?”

Michael fell to his knees, pushing Alex’s legs back and exposing his hole. He wiggled as much as he could but he couldn’t fight when Michael had him bent in half like this. His firm hands ran over the backs of his thighs to his ass. One of his thumbs ran around the rim, making him whine.

“Someone’s been using this well,” he said grinning. Alex put on his best glare but Michael just chuckled.

“Go to hell,” he spat out.

“Only if I can fuck you in the back of the limo down.”

Then he leaned down, tongue running over his entrance. His body tried to rub against his tongue but he was securely pinned. He felt the rumble of laughter as he licked and sucked around his entrance. Alex let a curse slip as his body started to relax.

Michael pulled away, grinning down at him. He dragged one of his hands down and slipped two fingers into him. Alex couldn’t stop the moan as he pressed against his prostate. Michael leaned back down, licking him again. Alex was ready to throw the scene out the window and beg.

Then he slipped his tongue into him alongside his fingers. Alex’s cock jerked, neglected and weeping.

“Did I take the fight out of you already?” He felt the pressure on his legs lift slightly. He could move. His body screamed for release as he rolled away from Michael, fingers being pulled out. “Well that’s not polite.” Alex crawled away but then he was being lifted, literally.

Michael’s arms wrapped around his waist as he was hauled from the floor and instead bent over his nearby desk. He braced himself on the flat surface and then he heard the rustling of fabric and a zipper. He tried to turn himself around but Michael pressed an arm against his back.

“I was ready to make this feel good for you, now I’ve changed my mind.” There was a blunt pressure as Michael pushed into him, his saliva somewhat easing the process. He moaned as he was filled. The muscles in his back tensing as he stretched to accommodate him.

Michael groaned from behind him and he felt him lean over him. His hips thrust froward, slamming against his prostate. The heat in his groin was begging to be satisfied and yet he couldn’t do anything about it. Michael continued like that. Slow and hard. He ran his hands over Alex’s back and shoulders. He grabbed his shoulders as he increased the rate of his thrusts.

“Please,” Alex begged.

“Please? Poor hunter. Being used for a quick bang. To bad I’m just going to cum and be done with you.” He wouldn’t dare. Alex hoped anyway.

Michael’s cock fucked in and out of him. The desk shook from the abuse. He didn’t even try to stop the moans that poured out of him. His hips and leg were starting to ache but he couldn’t focus on it for long.

“So much for all that talk. You going to be good for me now?” Michael was moving him again. Form the hard desk to being tossed on the bed. He half-heartedly tried to crawl away from him, but he didn’t have the fight anymore. He needed Michael inside him. He would take whatever he was given.

His hips were grabbed as he was filled again. He let his head fall forward as his ass was abused. Michael’s thrusts lost their rhythm and he grunted, digging his nails into his skin.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he moaned out. His hips jerked and his cock throbbed inside him. Only once he had completely emptied himself did he pull out. Alex felt it leak out and run down his legs.

“Stop,” he whimpered out, starting to mean it. His whole body shook with unreleased tension. Michael flipped him on his back, pushing his legs open. His ass clenched around nothing as more cum dripped out.

“You look good like this. So needy and well used.” He caught another drip with his finger, pushing it back inside. “I suppose I can treat you a bit better now.” He twisted his finger inside him, pushing the second in immediately.

“Fuck! I need…” he gasped out, unable to even finish his thought. He heard him chuckle and a third finger was working its way in next to the others. Alex couldn’t see anything with his eyes squeezed shut but he felt Michael bending over him.

His teeth nibbled at the skin on his chest. The fangs taunted him as his mark started burning. The fingers inside him moved slowly and avoided his prostate, desperate to drag this out as long as possible. His hands gripped the sheets as he tried to move his hips.

Every nerve in his body was hyper focused on Michael. His muscles jumped at every bite on his chest and every thrust of his fingers made his cock weep more. He felt a fourth finger rubbing around his rim, ready to push in.

“Should we find out how much you can fit in here,” Michael asked, honey dripping from his words. Alex groaned. Anything if it would let him orgasm. He felt his grin against his skin. He worked his pinky in slowly. The burn of the stretch only intensified as Michael pushed to the last knuckle.

Alex choked out a moan, never realizing this was something he had wanted to try. He felt Michael pull back and shift his position on the bed. He cracked his eyes open to watch him. He sat on the edge, completely focused on his fingers inside his ass.

“Michael,” he pleaded. His eyes snapped toward him as he smiled. It was almost kind.

His thumb traced him as the other fingers spun and pushed. His knuckles slipped in, making Alex moan loudly. The small open space was soon being filled. Alex’s moans turned into small hisses of pain.

Michael shifted again, pulling Alex with him so his ass was on the very edge of the bed. An arm wrapped around his waist, forcing him to sit up. A kiss was being pressed to his mouth and the stretching resumed. He wrapped an arm around Michael, scratching at his back. He nibbled his lip then kissed down to the mark on his neck.

Alex didn’t have time to consider that this was bad. He was locking his mouth over the mark and biting. Alex hips jerked, forcing his hand in farther. Warmth spread from the mark, making his body relax. The venom. His hips rolled again, easing his thumb past the first knuckle.

Alex’s eyes fluttered closed as he moaned. His hips refused to listen to him as they rolled and Michael pushed into him. He was so stretched out and he loved it. He felt full and needed Michael to move. There was a pressure against his prostate and it needed more attention.

The teeth were leaving his neck and he kissed the mark. Then his hand started moving. Pulling out slightly then jamming back in. Alex called out as his back arched. Gibberish spilled from his mouth as Michael fucked him like that. The arm wrapped around his waist disappeared and he fell back. A rough hand flipped him onto his hands and knees, never letting up on his ass.

“Look at you taking it so good. I know you wanna cum. Go ahead. Cum with a hand shoved up your ass.”

He did. Finally.

It ripped through him, making him scream. Hot spurts shot out onto the sheets. It was only prolonged by the assault from behind him. His face was buried in the mattress, muffling his moans of ecstasy. His cock jerked as it ran dry, still trying to cum.

Michael pulled his hand out carefully. His ass attempted to return to a more normal state but he was being filled by his cock again. Michael held his hips up as he fucked him roughly and then came in him again. The throbbing in him made him twitch but he had nothing left. The pressure was gone shortly after.

Alex was rolled away from the mess he made before he collapsed. He panted and let his eyes drift closed. He didn’t know where Michael had gone but soon he was curling around him, pressing gentle kisses all over his shoulders. He ran his fingers through his hair, his other hand kneading his muscles.

“Alex, talk to me,” he said softly. Alex turned to face him and smiled.

“You’re an animal.” Michael let out a sigh of relief and nuzzled into him.

“Do you need anything? Wet wipe? Back rub? A nap?” Alex chuckled and pulled him up for a kiss. Or rather multiple little kisses.

“A shower,” he suggested. Michael laughed and nodded.

“Anything for you. Let me help?” Alex rolled his eyes but nodded anyway. Then he was being swept up into his arms, making him yelp in surprise. He carried him to the bathroom and set him on the counter while he turned on the hot water.

Alex had splurged on the bathroom when renovating. The shower was easily big enough for two people, even three. There was no step to get in and was surrounded by fogged glass. There was a shower head above and on the side. Sometimes he turned on both if he was really stressed.

Michael stepped back out and stood between his legs, leaning in to kiss him gently. Alex ran his hands over his shoulders and up his neck until they wove through his hair. They kissed until he could feel the steam from the water. He felt his hands slip under his thighs.

Michael lifted him again, never breaking from his mouth. He felt the spray on his back and then over his head. The water ran between them, making their lips slip over each other more easily. They separated after a moment, both panting.

“I’ll set you down now,” he warned before slowly lowering Alex to the built in reclining bench. He ran his fingers through his hair and down his neck, lingering on the mark. Alex sighed, letting his shoulders drop and relax, eyes drifting closed.

He heard the snap of a bottle and felt Michael sit beside him. He pushed on his shoulder gently, letting him know to turn. He began rubbing soap into his skin, digging his fingers into the muscles for a massage. Alex groaned at how nice it felt.

“Hey, I’m trying to work you down. Don’t go making those sounds or I might take you again,” he teased, pressing a kiss to the spot below his ear. Alex chuckled and turned his head to look at him.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t,” he said, kissing him quickly. Michael’s smile was beaming as he resumed his massage.

Alex knew things were bad in the real world and about to get worse. But in this bubble they had created, it was bliss.

[gracereally]

Getting Stopped by the Cops and Other Embarrassing Things That Happened in My First Week of Freedom

Hello hello!

It's been one week since I was freed from the two week travelers' quarantine upon arriving in Korea. So much has happened this past week I can barely believe it's only been a single week!

Moving to a new country comes with a lot of stumbling blocks, especially when you don't speak the language. Today's post is framed within some of the more embarrassing (and funny) growing pains I have had this week.

Monday

My first day out of quarantine was on Monday! I would be released at 12pm, so my school director thought it would be prudent to get my health exam the same day in order to get it out of the way. Everyone entering Korea with my visa needs a full health exam to ensure we are not bringing any problematic illnesses (besides COVID) to the country.

So my first day out of quarantine consisted of being poked, prodded, peeing in a cup, drawing blood, getting x-rayed fully naked, and other awful ventures. Many people at the health center didn't speak English, but my school director helped when she could, and everyone was very kind. Still, it felt kind of humiliating for my first post-isolation experience.

Afterwards, she took me to a cafe for lunch, to the grocery store for supplies, and she also gave me a tour of my apartment building. It was a full day, and a little overstimulating to be honest. I went to bed early before my first day of work.

Tuesday

On Tuesday I started at my new job! I learned all about the school, it's curriculum, and observed a few classes. I have a lot of thoughts about the school, but I'll speak about it in another post.

Wednesday

I taught a full day of classes.

Yep, you heard right. I taught a full day of classes on my second day of work. For the most part it went alright, but it is a STRUGGLE to jump into a class in which you have no context, don't know the students, or even what they have been learning. But I got through it!

Thursday & Friday

For the rest of the week, I taught most of my classes. Typically teachers will observe for a few days, but my director had me jump right in. It was tough, and I think it's going to continue to be that way for a few weeks. It's kind of terrible to be so unsure of yourself at the front of the classroom, as well as having to conduct myself in such a specific way to fit the school's standards. I've been teaching for years but still really doubted myself this week. But I guess I'll learn!

On Friday after work, a co-worker of mine (also a newbie!) and I were bored and decided to explore the neighborhood. Since we get out of work at 9pm, it was too late for anything to be open. Currently, Seoul is at a level 4 lockdown, so all restaurants and bars are closed by 9pm. Gangnam was a ghost town as we walked around, but it was still nice to get out of the apartment.

Saturday

The same co-worker and I decided to go shopping for new work clothes. I was under the impression my job would be a business casual dress code...but as it turns out they expect us to look extremely professional, and I needed new clothes.

We took the subway to an underground mall and shopped for hours. It was really fun! The mall was underground, and consisted of a ton of clothing stalls. Unfortunately, it was a struggle to find clothes that would actually fit my body. Korea has "free sizes" which are supposed to be one-size-fits-all, but they definitely do not fit all. Most clothes were smaller than an American medium.

I bought a few things, and then we went to a Korean restaurant. It was 8:30pm when we walked in and the restaurant was empty, so we thought it would be a quick, cheap meal before we headed home. The store owner kept asking us to 'hurry up' because of the curfew, so we had to eat fast. But it was yummy at least.

We also may have gotten slightly turned around on our way back home, but we made it back eventually haha.

Sunday

My co-worker texted me that there is a K-pop event not too far from us and she wants to go. I don't know anything about K-pop but I was down. We decided to take electric scooters.

On every street corner here you can find electric scooters waiting to be rented. With a quick download of an app, you scan the scooter's bar code and can enjoy a ride! It was a really fun and inexpensive way to travel. We went to two cafe giveaways, where you apparently order a particular drink to get some K-pop swag. Ordering was a little bit of a struggle with the language barrier, but we managed it. My co-worker is luckily much more knowledgeable about Korean than I am.

You might be wondering what I was talking about in my post title, but no it's not clickbait: I really did get pulled over by the cops. On the scooter.

We had also decided to go to a different mall later on, and we took the scooters again. This time, we took a bigger road, and made our way to COEX mall. All of a sudden, a cop car pulls up next to us and asked us to stop. Apparently, it's illegal to ride the scooters 1. on sidewalks (though we had seen others doing this) and 2. without a helmet. They took our drivers' licenses and their eyes bugged when they saw our American cards. We explained we had no idea and we had only just arrived in Korea so they let us go with only a warning. We decided to walk the rest of the way LOL

Unfortunately it was still a bust in terms of clothing sizes at the mall, even at the foreign stores like H&M and Zara. I tried on a 16 in H&M and could not even get the clothes on -- I am usually a 10! And yes, they were supposedly US sizes. I guess it will be only online shopping for me.

We decided to end the day at a Mexican restaurant, where our language barrier while ordering caused them to only bring us one meal (we had both ordered 2 enchiladas...so they brought us one order of 2 instead of 2 orders of 2). We talked about how embarrassing and rude of us it feels like to stumble so much with Korean, but most people here have been kind to us.

Anyway, it's been a long but fun week. Life here in SK is definitely going to be different, but it's so interesting to experience such new things. Here's hoping the growing pains get easier.

Until next time,

Grace ~

[apterydek]

After a year of jockhood

A year of jockhood came and went, daily workouts, buzzed head, sweaty gym shorts. Though you were stronger and more comfortable than ever, you missed being preppy. Looking back at the old photos from when you wore chinos and polos instead, you remembered how you felt then: disappointed you weren’t living the jock life.

“I’m not sure what to do,” you confess to Sir. He’s the one putting you through your paces, holding you to your meal plan. He was the one who gave you your first buzz, clippers set to 1. “Though I’m living my fantasy, and I feel confident, I keep feeling like I’m missing out on all the other versions of me. This was supposed to be my final transformation, and despite all the mental training, I just can’t stick with it. I’m sorry Sir, I fear I’ve disappointed you. I know you’ve put so much effort into training me.”

Sir isn’t angry, nor let down. He’s pensive, eyes out of focus, forehead furrowed. Then, with a sudden smile, he starts: “Boy, it’s no problem. I’ve seen this before. Sensed that it might happen. It’s just that I wanted you to have the full jock experience you were so dedicated to when we first started. I know just what to do. Another year of training—”

“Another year?” you blurt in disbelief.

“Shush, boy,” he continues, stern now. “This year will be unlike the last year. Rather than get you deep into one identity, we’ll change things up every month. We’ll explore all the different versions of you. Then decide what to do next. Who knows, maybe you’ll be begging to go back to jock mode.”

Your mouth is open. “W..well…” you say, processing what Sir’s suggesting. It tingles, excitement gripping you, and you decide to comply. “Yes Sir!” you shout. He’s already thinking of what you’ll become, and within the week, you’re given your first identity.

January you kept your hoodies and trainers, but grew out your hair slightly on top even as the sides were shaved. You wore a steel necklace and a tracksuit. Manspreading, walking with a swagger. Drinking and cursing. Watching porn. Sir would catch you by surprise and pin you against the wall, getting his pleasure from you. You loved the sudden lack of discipline, the spontaneity, the cockiness.

February your hair was long enough to part and slick. Your wardrobe was entirely replaced with white briefs and singlets, gray and blue dress shirts, smart slacks, knee socks, shined shoes and even a pair of short elasticated wool shorts for home. You tucked in your shirt every day, followed a structured schedule, and learned the basics of piano and French every evening. Sir would spank you for the smallest transgressions. You came to enjoy his discipline, the way your energy was controlled and focused on learning.

March your hair kept growing. You returned to sporty shorts with matching silky shirts. Leg day every day. Running, endurance. Sir had chosen only two outfits for you to wear. It made decisions easy. He chose your food carefully for energy. By the end of all the workouts you’d be ready to head to bed, but you were quizzed on football stats every day from the games you spent hours watching. You lived through your team’s performance, trained hard to emulate your favorite players. Sport, sport, sport. The month passed quickly.

April you didn’t get a haircut, just put a little hair gel in it. Polos and khakis or bright, short shorts. Boat shoes. You started to drink again. Spent lots of time on social media, taking lots of selfies with vapid pearly smiles. A lot of them involved golf, which you were now taking up. Sir got you invited to a party on a yacht. Little discipline again, just spending money, and enjoying the money others spent, and the respect everyone gave you.

May you used a straight iron and bobby pins. Pink crop tops and pink high tops. Became a go-go dancer, shaking your butt every time someone slipped a sweaty dollar bill down the waistband of your glittery hot pants. Pumped your nips every night and morning. Sir worked your hole every morning until you could take a plug, then a thick dildo, then a fist. Sometimes, after your shows, you’d get the chance to fit other guys’ hands up your hole too. It felt good to be desired, great to be a slut, and utterly fabulous to be so flamboyant.

June you got a cut in front and a trim in the back. Button-ups with the snaps, tucked into tight Wranglers and secured with a massive belt buckle. You listened to country music the entire time you were awake. Spent time hunting and fishing, dressed in camo and/or waders. Beaten-up T-shirts and trucker caps half the time. Cowboy hats the other half. It was relaxing getting back into nature, relaxing listening to repetitive songs, relaxing to slip completely into this identity and hear the voices of anxiety silenced. Some time every day, Sir gave you hearty pats on the back, and butt, and you embraced him, totally at ease.

July you awoke in briefs and a singlet again. An extra-large polo shirt, sweater vest, and loose polyester dress pants were stuffed over you, and you were taken to a barbershop and given a tight waxed horseshoe flattop with a white, shiny, wide landing strip. Glasses for good measure too. The only fun you had was DnD, but mostly you were too busy reading academic papers, solving logic puzzles, and arguing with strangers on Quora to spend much time on the DnD sessions. Sir would turn the Internet off at 9 every night, though, and you’d have to wake up early the next day to catch up on your online pursuits. It felt good to know more than anyone else...except Sir, of course.

August you got tired of feeling like other guys were about to bully you and became the bully instead. Buzzed again, gym shorts, tank tops, lifting, protein shakes and meal plans: all the things you’d gotten tired of six months ago, but which seemed so comfortable and natural now. You almost didn’t want to continue the cycle of transformations. Begged Sir, naked and on your knees, your prominent pecs quivering slightly. Sir denied you. You needed still more discipline.

September you were to follow a detailed schedule to the minute. Your buzz was shaved daily on the back and sides, clippered to a 0.5 on top. You were issued one set of clothes for PT, and one set of clothes for day-to-day wear: a polo and cargo pants with stiff black boots that gave you blisters. There was a final set of clothing for dinners and special outings: a dress shirt secured with shirt stays, immaculately creased trousers, mirror-shined black shoes. Punishments were severe and severely boring: standing at attention for hours, endless sets of push-ups, and marches in circles with the sun beating on your shorn head. Despite the unpleasantness, you felt proud to be held to such a strict standard, and to comply with it at least most of the time. Sir would occasionally reward your compliance with a treat like a single ice cream bar or 20 minutes of free time.

October you asked again to become a jock, or a frat boy, again, but Sir, tight-lipped, shook his head. You hadn’t learned your lesson. Stripped of all clothing, you winced as you were shaved head to toe, and a chastity cage was forced on and locked. You were rubbed with lube before being covered in a thick black rubber suit that covered your entire body, zips held closed with a dozen miniature padlocks. You were let out of rubber only for your brief, intense workouts—for public matters, a thinner rubber suit that left your arms and legs exposed was fastened on you, after which you donned a plain black T-shirt, black jeans, black Converses and a black snapback. Half the time, a large plug was shoved up your ass. You didn’t have a strict schedule any more, but the punishments more than made up for it. Perhaps your entire existence was one punishment. You were beaten, forced into painful positions, your balls stretched, made to drink piss and eat from the floor. You slept in a large dog cage. Slowly, you got used to it, hastened by Sir’s hypnosis and brainwashing sessions. You realized how much effort Sir was putting into the training and resolved not to disappoint him again. The border between pain and pleasure disappeared, and you grew content in the moment, constant intense sensations forcing your attention on the present. For Halloween you were paraded out in your full rubber suit, a collar and leash around your neck.

November you knelt, bound, ready for the next layer of intensity, for a fresh round of humiliation and torture. You accepted whatever Sir might inflict upon you. But he untied you, let you out, gently cleaned you in the bathtub, and had you lie on a towel. It was only when you felt a soft, pillowy sensation enveloping your chastity cage that you realized what he’d planned. You had a large wardrobe of brightly colored T-shirts and pants and a full rack of chunky sneakers. There were rules, of course, particularly around bedtime, screen time, and getting your diaper changed, but you were otherwise free to play as you wished. The lack of punishment initially seemed wrong, like cheating, but you settled into your new pampered lifestyle as Sir gently encouraged you and occasionally told you life stories to learn from. By the end of the month, you were making cucumber sandwiches like a pro, wearing a cartoon sandwich T-shirt and overalls.

December Sir trimmed the sides and back of your head, undressed you, unlocked you from chastity, and showed you to yet another set of clothing. You couldn’t make heads or tails of it, but he didn’t tell you what you were supposed to become, just smiled and walked out of the room. No kinky gear or implements anywhere, just a fleshlight in the back of the drawer, behind the boxer shorts and miscellaneous patterned shirts and jeans. Sir just kind of...left you alone, not telling you when to wake up or what any consequences of anything would be. With the horniness from the previous months of chastity and discipline built up, you started to jerk off at least three times a day. Sitting at the dinner table with Sir eating pizza, you asked him what this was all about. It felt so wrong.

“Boy, this month I’m showing you what you haven’t had for several years: a ‘normal’ lifestyle. No control, no schedule, no denial, no punishments, just...freedom. You shouldn’t forget, I can give you any transformation I desire, and this month I want you to be a regular guy. What’s light without shadow, a vessel without the internal emptiness, a crisp autumn day without the muggy summer before it?”

Almost crying at this point, you nodded. You’d taken all this kinky artifice for granted, assumed that last month was Sir’s way of letting you off easy even though you were in diapers. You had gotten so accustomed to Sir’s control that you’d let yourself get tired of living your deepest fantasies as a prep and a jock.

You stood up. “Sir,” you started, about to apologize, about to thank him, about to tell him how much you loved him, but you pushed your face into his and gave him a deep kiss, inserting your tongue, feeling his warm mouth relax in pleasure. You hugged him tight, and he hugged you tighter, and you were together, equals now. Wait, equals? That didn’t feel right.

You pulled his arms behind his back and scowled. “I love you. That’s why I’m going to do to you what you did to me. We’ll start with you as a jock.” Sir’s eyes widened. You kept your face stern, but worried he’d find some way to punish you. Suddenly, Sir sat up and straightened his shoulders. “Sir, yes Sir!” he yelled. And so, another year began, with a Sir and boy playing through various transformations, except the Sir and boy were reversed this time, and a few times, for a month at a stretch, they’d stop and live as equals, just to appreciate what they had. Appreciate each other they most certainly did.

[daylightsun]

What I Learn from Years of Reading and Collecting Books and Letting Some of Them Go

These past few days, I "KonMari" my room and decided to rearrange my bookshelves. While sorting out all of my belongings, I discovered a box filled with books I manically collected during my college years sitting underneath my bed. After opening it, the books seem to be staring at me while I stare back at them like we are having a confrontation of sorts. For a moment, it made me reflect on my life as a reader and book collector, and this sense of nostalgia hit me.

After snapping out of this nostalgic state, the fact remains that my shelf space and room space are precious and limited, and I only want to fill my life with things that “spark joy” within me. I need to decide which books would stay and which would eventually go to the bin. So in honor of literature month and the books I am about to throw away, I would like to write some piece to honor my journey as a reader and book collector.

Starting Years as a Reader and Book Collector

My fascination with books started early in my childhood. I remember holding my small hardbound fairytale books, a book set with stories like Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs and Three Little Pigs. But it was the illustrations at first that engrossed me. It's like my eyes can't get enough of the colors and drawings. I look at them again and again, committing them in my memory. Then there was my childhood best friend Grimm's book of fairytales. The book was enormous and heavy. It contained more words and the occasional one to two pages of illustrations, like the naked butt of the king in The Emperor's New Clothes, the candy house of the witch in Hansel, and Gretel other beautiful illustrations inside that book.

However, it is in my teenage years that I started to enjoy reading literature, and book reports ignite my interest in book collecting. Books like Ella Enchanted, The Little Prince, and Thieves of Ostia were carried inside our classroom boxes after boxes. A sheer excitement overcame me, forgetting the fear I felt days before asking for extra money to buy something outside the average family expenses, even if it is for school requirements.

I did not grow up in an environment that encourages me to read books outside the typical academic obligations. It is usual for Southeast Asian households to be thrifty, so buying books for leisure is a luxury. Moreover, since it does not involve cleaning and moving around the house, reading for my parents is a lazy activity. Not to mention what damage it can do to your eyesight, they would add. However, I continued to read in secret and went against the general expectations.

I have read Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince while holding a flashlight while everyone in the house is sleeping at night so no one could scold me. I read with my friends at school. We exchanged novels, particularly stories about young adults. I bought my first novel, L. Montgomery's Anne of Green Gables, in a book fair inside my school using my savings. And even after my childhood best friend, who was four years older than me, went away to college, I marched to their house and borrowed books from her mother like Louisa Alcott's Little Women.

Reading helped me to cope with my deep-seated feeling of isolation and loneliness because of being an adopted child. I found out pieces of the truth through indirect hints and silent whispers between adults and childish banter between cousins. So I was left alone on my own devices to understand and stitch the truth. But in reading, I started to find solace and identity with the people I meet in stories. Books became for me houses I visit to explore and get to know the people living inside. And sometimes, I leave too early out of boredom or just out of an inability to comprehend the house. But sometimes, even after the visit, a piece of my heart stayed inside those pages. When I read, I have companions, and when I buy a book, I have something of my own.

Moreover, in books, I found girls like me, like Anne in Anne of Green Gables or Mary in The Secret Garden. Orphaned and neglected at a very young age and adopted, they were able to find acceptance and love. In those stories, they eventually mattered and belonged to the people around them. And in my heart, I wanted the same assurance these characters have that I am going to be OK despite my "oddness."

Not encouraged to read, buy books for my leisure, and being an adopted child in her young adolescent years made me want to form a personal path of rebellion. I decided to be a bookworm and persist in reading and building my book collection even if I am discouraged! Talk about being brave and revolutionary. Though I developed a deep affection for reading and books by this time, this "rebellious" way serves another personal purpose, and that is instead of being single out because ofbeing an adopted child, I can be single out because of my "bookish-ness." This identity gave me a powerful feeling of being significantly different from the crowd. I am somehow special but without the burden and constantly feeling the need to fight the pity of the people around me.

College Years

When I went to college, I develop an unhealthy impulse of excessively buying booksbut not reading them. There is a Japanese term for this impulsive behavior called "tsundoku." My obsession with buying books can be attributed to two main culprits. First, I started to attend and participate actively in church, and second, the store Book Sale.

In our church, we have a statement I wrote in the tablet of my heart with great faithfulness and love. It goes this way "Great leaders read books," which is a remarkable statement unless someone went overboard with trying to read books by purchasing them. This someone is, of course, is me. Ooops.

On multiple days within a week, I would visit and sit on the SM Baguio's Book Salefloor, hunting and obsessing over books. I would gladly move stacks upon stacks of books desperately looking for a purchase treasure. And most of us know, books are sold at Book Sale at a meager price. It became a standard for me to go home to my boarding house with three to five books. And oh boy, the stacks of books in my room just grew and grew. By the end of my seven years in college, the heaviest of my baggage is the one enormous box where I managed to fit all the books I have acquired.

Even though my college years were a time of my compulsive and unhealthy behaviors in reading and book buying, these were also the years I familiarized myself with what types of storytelling I would enjoy and who are my favorite authors. Neil Gaiman and Haruki Murakami cast their spell on me, and I would read again and again stories like The Little Prince, Memoirs of A Geisha, and The Last Time I Saw Mother.

But what I am most thankful for reading around this time is the opportunity it gave me to connect to other people through knowledge sharing. When I read an excellent book that gave me a lot of insight, there is an internal urge to pass it to someone else or talk about it with a friend. So I either talk about it or give the book. Giving that well-written book will sting a bit. Still, the disappointment of not having someone to undergo the experience of reading it is more painful than letting it go because I've discovered that there are types of books that cannot stay only in one pair of hands but have to travel to the next pair to be held and read. Some stories and books are personal to me, and they will stay on my shelves as long as they can, but there is another type of book that the knowledge they contain needs to be passed on and shared.

Working Years

Buying books using the allowance from your parents are far easier than using your own hard-earned money. Being a young professional and just started to manage my finances made the reality of my unhealthy addiction hit hard. I can not longer afford to go to book shops without thoroughly thinking if the book I am picking is something I should buy. "Adulting" has forced maturity in me.

Putting some healthy breaks on my general attitude towards reading and book collecting is just one part of the exciting times ahead of me as a bibliophile. Going back to my hometown and having more personal freedom have opened the doors to uncharted territories. As a reader and book collector, I've been officially and finally introduced to book fairs and Philippine Literature.

When I talk about book fairs that I participate in this time, these are the mega fairs that involve many publishing houses. Book fairs with book launching, book signing, live-reading, and writers' meet and greet events. The Manila International Book Fair (MIBF) and Big Bad Wolf are an example of these fairs. The experience was exhilarating and magical, and I would like to think that every reader and book collector would agree that book fairs are sort of heaven or nirvana on earth.

But so far, the greatest book fair I get to experience must also be the most challenging endeavor I undertook professionally, the Frankfurt Book Fair 2019. Imanaged to be a part of the team that organized the delegation that represented the Philippines in the largest international book fair. FBF is annually held during October in Frankfurt, Germany, with participants worldwide and boost to be the most extensive platform for digital and printed content. So even though I did not personally go to Frankfurt, being part of this massive event as a production assistant and being part of the early planning stages to post-prod was a dream come true. Seeing over 500 books published by the leading publishing houses in the country and written by Filipino authors showcased in the entire world in a beautifully designed stand made me very happy and proud.

Working in a government agency that primarily serves the Philippine publishing industry also gave me a closer look into the local literature. Unfortunately, I did not grow up reading books written by Filipino writers. Aside from the usual piece of local literature my Filipino textbooks in high school and college courses offered, Philippine literature did not become part of my early reading and book collection. But my ignorance of Filipino authors and literature ended when  I worked at NBDB and when a friend lent me Philippine literature books. As I started to read the literary works of Eliza Victoria, Nick Joaquin, Luis Joaquin M. Katigbak, and other amazing Filipino authors, I felt both shame and relief. I finally got to experience my national consciousness and Filipino identity through literature by Filipino authors for Filipinos.

But my bad habits in college still are present and had managed to erode my psyche. Surrounded by so many book-related things, I got back to the same dangerous pattern. I acquired more books but have no diligence and genuine interest in reading. In the process, I become a hoarder like the Businessman from The Little Prince, who cannot stop owning and counting every star he sees in the sky but never understood its value. After all, what is a book without its reader?

And as a result, something bad happened. The words in the pages started to leave me, I slowly lost the ability to build worlds in my head, and my insatiable thirst for knowledge had dwindled. Then one day, I lost all of my interest in books. For one and a half years, I would not touch any books on my bookshelves and stop actively reading and looking for books to buy. I had enough.

                                                           *** Going back to the present time and Marie Kondo, she mentioned in her best-selling book, The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up (and yes, I have the book), that the KonMari method encourages only to keep around thirty books. Thirty books seem to be awfully few, and how can a person who loves reading and collecting books find the courage to let go.

But as the book explained, you need to ask oneself the fundamental question of the KonMari method, "does this spark joy?". Does this book spark joy? Have I read this, and if I happened to have, does it aroused my intellect? And I have asked these hard questions to every book in my belongings.

It is almost four years after my time at the university. I am currently in a work-from-home setup which is a very fortunate situation while in the middle of a global pandemic. And yes, I am about to throw books, a lot of them, which you might think is a waste, but deep down, I know I will never reread these, nor will I ever start to read them again.

Honestly, I cannot remember the exact day I pick up a book on my shelf and read again, nor the reason behind it. But having the courage to declutter and purge my book collection, I realized a few months ago that I started again to read and purchase books, but this time there is an effort to be mindful with every reading and purchase made. This subtle change in behavior gave my reading and collecting a better sense of purpose and direction.

My life is composed of limited time, meaning I can only read books that much. But I've been in a relationship with books for many years now. Collecting books became a form of personal art, and reading stories helped me become a better person. It healed me, became a catalyst to learn a couple of life lessons, and taught me to give. And I do not see myself stopping at any point in my life. So might as well keep and read books that only truly capture my spirit, challenges me, and, if I was lucky, changes me. Because that is the thing about it, books are powerful.

[onlycags]

Sürpriz (Surprise)

 Word Count: 1,848 Warnings: Confession, sex

- - -

You’d been planning this for almost a month, and now that the moment was here, you weren’t quite sure you could pull it off. You’d had a crush on Çağlar for almost three months now and you were pretty sure he liked you, too - except he wasn’t going to make the first move. As his best friend, you hadn’t seen him date anyone and part of you hoped it was because he wanted you. 

The plan was set; everything was in motion. As your best guy friend, Çağlar was the one you went to for advice when it came to a lad’s opinion on things and now you were going to use all the advice he’d ever given you against him to seduce him. This last week you were dropping hints that he was the one you wanted but you weren’t sure he was getting them.

Çağlar would be over at your place in an hour and you were already getting butterflies. To be fair, you’d had them all week but now that the moment was here, the nerves were getting the better of you. You’d bought lingerie in his favourite colour and his jersey was hanging up in your closet...now everything else just had to go according to plan. 

Çağlar wasn’t sure why he was walking up to your place an hour before the date you were supposed to be going on, but he didn’t care - you were his friend and you needed him so he would come running to your rescue. He didn’t bother knocking, letting himself into your place that he knew almost as well - if not better than - his own. He called out your name, smiling to himself as he heard you yell back ‘Bedroom!’ and he made his way over to you. 

“Hey,” he said, leaning on the doorframe of your walk-in closet. It was on the smaller side by some people’s standards but the size seemed to fit you perfectly. 

“Thank god you’re here!” You said, turning to look at him with a relieved smile on your face. You were half-naked in what Çağlar would assume were the clothes you wore today; your jeans were unbuttoned and your sports bra was the only thing covering your torso. Çağlar tried not to look at you but it was impossible not to - he’d been fighting his attraction to you for months, not wanting to push the boundaries of your friendship but it was getting harder and harder to resist you. “You’ve gotta help me!”

“Of course,” Çağlar said, shooting you his gap-toothed grin that made you go a little fuzzy. It didn’t help that he was leaning against the doorframe with his hands in his pockets, either. “What do you need, Kankiş?” Bestie.

His use of the best-friend nickname he’d given you long ago had you questioning your plan again but you weren’t going to give up now. “Whatever you can give me, Kanki.” Your stomach flipped when you used your nickname for him but you hoped he hadn’t seen your blush. 

“Do you know what you’re planning to wear?”

“Sort of?” You replied, unsure. “Okay, I know what I’m going to wear under my clothes but nothing else.”

Çağlar swallowed hard at the mention of lingerie, but he tamped it down. “Alright. Have you at least decided on if you’re going to wear a dress or pants?”

“A dress - definitely a dress.” You turned your back to him, pulling off your sports bra. Çağlar couldn’t help staring at the tattoos that adorned your back, but he fixed his gaze to the floor just in case you turned around and caught him. You started to put on the bra and Çağlar didn’t miss the fact that it was red, complementing your hair and skin tone perfectly. He squeezed his eyes shut as you stripped your jeans and panties off and put the matching panties on. “Okay,” you said, turning back around to face him. Çağlar opened his eyes but stared straight at your forehead, not wanting to let his gaze roam and have you call him out on it. “I’ve got three different dresses I’ve worn on various dates that seem to work but I’m just not sure.”

“Are you going to model them for me?”

“I could, if that’s what you think would help.”

“I’m sure you look, uh, sexy in all of them,” he said, darting his gaze over to one of your clothes racks.

“You okay?” You asked, stepping towards him. You wanted to reach out and touch him but you didn’t think it would help matters. Now the hesitation was really kicking in and you were already starting to mentally prepare yourself for rejection - you wanted to be able to say that you’d tried, even if it ended in failure. 

“Mmhmm.” Çağlar nodded, fixing his gaze above your head. “I’m fine.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t go on this date,” you said, hoping that would get his attention. You were rewarded when his eyes locked back on yours.

“Why not?”

“I’ve had a string of bad dates lately.” Not a lie, but not the whole truth either. “What if this one turns out to just be another one?”

“What if it doesn't?” Çağlar countered, trying not to let his feelings overshadow his advice. He was always your voice of reason whenever you were second-guessing yourself, and while you would have loved hearing this from him any other time, it wasn’t what you needed right now. He thought he was going to be sick as he said, “What if you find the love of your life on this date and you almost missed out because you were going to cancel?”

Your heart was hammering in your chest now and you almost didn’t want to continue the rest of your plan; you wanted to jump his bones right now without admitting your feelings but you couldn’t skip a step. “Maybe I should just wear his jersey instead?” You asked, breathless.

“He’s a footballer?” Çağlar was surprised and it was written all over his face.

“Mmhmm.” You nodded, turning your back to him once again so you could grab his jersey off the hanger and put it on. Your hands shook as you put it on, hoping it wouldn’t backfire. Goosebumps broke out as the material slipped over your skin and you held your breath. You turned to look at him over your shoulder. “What do you think?”

Çağlar was speechless. “I…”

You turned around and walked back over to him. “Çağlar,” you whispered, placing a hand on his chest. You felt his heartbeat racing under your fingertips. “Say something...please.”

“It’s...me? I’m the one you want?” 

“Yes.” Your gaze searched his. “I’ve wanted you for so long, but if you don’t feel the same way, we can just forget this ever happened.”

“I don’t want that,” Çağlar replied, shaking his head. “I want you, too.”

“Really?” You asked, a smile spreading across your lips as he nodded. “Are you going to kiss me or not, Çağlar?”

His fingers skimmed the tops of your thighs and over the hem of the jersey. You sucked in a breath, biting down on your bottom lip as you watched his hands. When he looked at you again, there was desire in his eyes that you’d never seen before. “I’m gonna take my time with you,” he rasped and you didn’t miss the promise in his voice. 

You wrapped your fingers around his forearms, sliding your hands up his arms. You loved to tease him and this was no exception. Your fingers drifted over his shoulders and finally threaded in his hair. The jersey lifted up and exposed your ass. Çağlar wasted no time cupping your ass, using it to pull you flush against him. You could already feel his growing erection against your stomach and it just made your panties wetter.

The two of you spent what felt like hours just touching each other and exploring your bodies. When you did finally kiss, it was perfect and you felt it all the way down to your toes. You moaned in his mouth and Çağlar swallowed the sound, slipping his tongue in your mouth to deepen the kiss. He took charge, pressing you against the wall of your walk-in closet, breaking the kiss only so that he could pull the jersey off your body and let it fall to the floor.

“Çok güzelsin,” he whispered, trailing kisses down your neck. You’re so beautiful. “You look stunning in red.” His fingers dug into your hips, sliding up to cup your tits. He pressed kisses down between the valley of your breasts as he unhooked your bra. It joined the jersey on the floor but you didn’t mind. 

“Only for you.” Your eyes fluttered closed and you let out a soft moan as he hooked his fingers in your panties and bared your pussy. 

“Will you let me take you to bed?” He asked, smiling when you nodded. 

Çağlar took your hand in his and led you to your bedroom, smiling when he got the chance to toss you on your bed and cover your body with his. He pinned your hands above your head, loving the way you arched your back at his touch. 

“You gonna be a good girl for me, Tatlı Cadı?” He asked, kneeling over your as he reached for his shirt and pulled it over his head. 

“Yes,” you breathed, your gaze raking over his chiseled torso. “Will you let me touch you?” Your fingers itched to run over his abs and dip lower past the waistband of his jeans and…

“Dokun bana tatlı cadı,” he whispered. Touch me sweet witch.

You reveled in the sounds you elicited from him as you ran your fingers over his body, exploring his tattoos. You’d been curious about his ink for ages and had even helped him take care of the lion on his back, but this was different. 

“I want to be inside you,” he groaned when your hands dipped lower. 

“Fuck me, Çağlar,” you murmured, taking his cock in your hands and guiding it to your slick entrance. 

He sank inside of you easily, your pussy already dripping from all the foreplay. You knew the two of you would have plenty of time to explore each other later and you knew the first thing you wanted to do was sink to your knees and suck him off. 

It wasn’t long after that that both of you were cumming. He felt so good inside you and your pussy fit him like a glove; both of you so overstimulated that it didn’t take much for your orgasms to race through you. 

Çağlar pulled out of you, rolling off and onto his back so that the two of you were laying side by side, breathing heavily as you came down from your highs. “There’s so many things I want to do to you,” he confessed, turning on his side to look at you.

“Me, too,” you  replied, blushing as certain thoughts came up. “Luckily, we have all night.”

[sophieakatz]

Thursday Thoughts: Sophie Sides

I cannot overstate how highly I recommend the web series Sanders Sides. In this scripted series, YouTuber Thomas Sanders shares the screen with a cast of characters, each a personification of an aspect of Sanders’s own personality – and each performed by Sanders himself. The ensuing debates and shenanigans are quick-witted, hilarious, and increasingly thought-provoking as the show progresses and more of Sanders’s “Sides” make their presence known.

I stumbled across these videos at a time when I really needed to do some serious reflection on some big questions, such as “What kind of person do I want to be?” and “Am I taking good care of myself?” – the kinds of questions that this show tackles. Sanders Sides has definitely helped me think through some difficult topics.

It’s also gotten me thinking about my own Sides. If I were to split my personality up into different characters, who would I find? I wouldn’t divide myself up along the exact same lines as Thomas Sanders, of course, though our personalities do overlap in some interesting ways.

Let me introduce you to the Sophie Sides!

Lilly – The Dreamer

If it’s time for fun and imagination, then Lilly is not only on board, but at the helm! She is my creative side, the source of my storytelling and my artistic drive. Lilly also embodies my more childlike aspects, including playfulness and optimism. She’s my love of fantasy novels, Disney movies, and puns – and it’s ridiculously easy to make her laugh. Lilly is a constant source of new ideas, so she can be really distracting when I need to focus on just one task. She believes that “princess” is a compliment no matter what tone of voice it’s said in.

(Lilly’s full name is Lilly Belle, a reference to Lillian Disney – Disney Studios ink artist, wife of Walt Disney, and the reason we know the famous mouse as Mickey rather than Mortimer! Lilly wears the longest, swishiest blue dress, perfect for twirling like a Disney princess!)

Maddy – The Mother

I’ve always been the Mom Friend, and Maddy is why. She is the personification of my idea of what it means to be an adult – rational, responsible, and nurturing. Maddy keeps my priorities in order and makes sure that I stay on track and on schedule for all the important things in life. This includes eating well, attending doctor’s appointments, doing homework, attending synagogue, developing my career, and taking care of my friends. Maddy loves structure, rules, and tradition, and so she embodies my religious observance as well.

(Maddy starts with M – M as in “mother” and “maternal”! The other Sides will call her “Mom” if she’s getting too overbearing. Maddy wears professional attire: a black blazer, black slacks, and a dark blue blouse.)

Vashti – The Warrior

For Vashti, the term “social justice warrior” is no insult. She is my morality – a strong, instinctive sense of right and wrong, combined with an incessant, selfless desire for things to be fair. Vashti also embodies my aggressiveness, defensiveness, and vindictiveness; she tends to show up when I’m really pissed off, and she’s a lot shoutier than the other Sides. She holds both me and the world to a very high standard, and she has an unfortunate tendency to jump to conclusions and see issues as black and white. Without her, I’d be a much worse person – but I’m glad the other Sides are there to balance her out.

(In the Book of Esther, Vashti was the queen of Persia. One night, her husband the king told her to dance naked in front of his friends. She refused! My mom used this story to inspire in me an early sense of feminism, and so Vashti seemed the perfect name for this Side. Vashti rocks matching blue jeans and denim jacket over a “Girls Rock!” t-shirt.)

Sidney – The Slacker

While the first three Sides are a “get things done” kind of people, Sidney… is not. She represents my laziness, self-indulgence, and procrastination. Sidney encourages me to expend as little energy as possible and to devote my time to leisure activities, which can put her sharply at odds with Vashti, Maddy, and Lilly. In Sidney’s defense, she is a much-needed source of “chill” in my life. Without her, the other Sides would burn me out!

(Besides the useful alliteration of “Slacker Sidney,” Sid is the name my parents had on standby if I’d been assigned male at birth. The name is mine, but also not mine – appropriate for a Side who embodies qualities about myself that the other Sides don’t readily accept as a part of me. Sidney wears a burgundy hoodie and dark blue sweatpants.)

These first four are the aspects of myself I’m most comfortable with. But, just like in Sanders Sides, the exploration doesn’t end there…

Ex – Anxiety

Two years ago, I wrote a fairy tale about a little monster named Ex who mimics other people’s voices, tricking you into imaginary arguments that get you all riled up about things that didn’t actually happen. When I started thinking about my Sides, Ex turned up again.

Ex would tell you that she’s my forethought, my ability to imagine the outcomes of future interactions. However, the scenarios she presents always run negative. It’d be more accurate to say that Ex embodies my anxiety. She insists that she knows, with 100% certainty, what other people are thinking and how they will react to me. Her goal is to keep me safe, but she tends to blow things out of proportion and leave me feeling downright awful.

(Ex is a shapeshifter, able to appear as anyone in Sophie’s life and even as the other Sides. Ex’s name is the variable X – a placeholder for whatever role she may choose to play. I’m reluctant to give her a name, lest the arguments I have with her taint my emotional response to anyone I happen to meet with that same name. When Ex appears as herself, she wears a long green trench coat and a blue fedora hat. She has little blue horns and a tail which are all obviously attached to her clothing instead of being a part of her body.)

(Side note – lately, I’ve been thinking differently about my interactions with Ex. I’ll talk a bit more about that in next week’s Thursday Thoughts!)

Mal – Depression

Mal embodies my depression and grief. Her appearances used to be much more infrequent, and it was easier to ignore her. Until this year, it’s been easier for me to see her as an enemy or as something that I should hide. But Mal shows up as an expression of my pain. While all the other Sides are talkative, Mal never speaks. Her presence alone is enough to derail a conversation with a wave of sadness; she quietly, sullenly commands attention.

(“Mal” is a Latin root meaning “bad” or “evil,” and Mal embodies the worst feelings I’ve ever had, in response to the worst things which have ever happened to me. She spends most of her time hidden under a pile of blankets, only sitting up when she wants to be noticed, so it’s unclear what she’s wearing. She has permanent dark blue tearstains on both cheeks.)

Eve – Yetzer Hara

If Vashti is Yetzer Hatov – the good inclination, my drive to make the world a better place – then Eve is Yetzer Hara – the evil inclination, my selfishness. As far as Eve is concerned, I should be my number one priority, everyone else in the world be damned! Vashti generally bans Eve from having a seat at the table, as it were, because once Eve has a say, she’s difficult to ignore. Eve is a smooth-talking politician with an agenda of ambition and pride. As Rabbi Nahman said, without yetzer hara telling us to envy our neighbors, we would never seek to improve ourselves. But as Rabbi Hillel said, if I am only for myself, then what am I?

(Christians blame the biblical Eve for “original sin,” and my Eve never met a deadly sin she couldn’t make sound appealing. Of course, she’d be the first to point out that in Judaism the concept of “sin” is much more complicated than that! Eve wears a light blue dress, much more form-fitting and much less swishy than Lilly’s. She has glowing golden eyes – and when she convinces the other Sides to listen to her, then their eyes start to glow, too…)

I ended up going much deeper in this little exercise than I expected to. Overall, it was a lot of fun! I don’t plan on making a web series about my Sides, but who knows? Maybe I’ll write a fic about them someday.

How about you? Are you a fan of Sanders Sides? Have you ever thought about what Sides make up your personality? If not, take a moment and try it out, and let me know who you discover – I’d love to hear about them!

[badsteamystories]

The Brothel Study. Chapter 1

Warning: look at my URL before deciding whether you wanna read this. It is naughty in ways I like, but others probably don't.

Synopsis: Lucie Herondale decides she needs some inside knowledge of how a brothel works for a novel she's working on. At least, that's what she tells herself as she stands on the front step asking for employment.

Lucie couldn't believe she was doing this. It was crazy, crass, and the farthest thing from what a young lady should ever do. But that didn't matter. Not really. Not when the she needed the experience to be able to better write about it when one of her heroines was forced to do this ghastly deed to survive.

At least, that's what she told herself as she hurried down the street, heading towards a new adventure. The knotting of her stomach and the heat between her legs told a different story however, and she had to swallow heavily as she reached the front steps of her destination.

She took one deep breath before knocking three times in rapid succession. A second later the door opened to reveal a woman dressed in a scantalizingly suggestive dress, her black hair done up ever so elegantly, but also mussed, as if she had fallen asleep with it and had a fitful nightmare. In her perfectly manicured hand was a cigarette, which she now took a drag of as she registered Lucie with narrowed eyes.

"What do you want?" The lady snapped, obviously not expecting business from the girl stood before her. Lucie steeled her nerves before she answered.

"I wish to work at this brothel for a week," she answered, trying her best to leave no room for discussion by her tone.

Across from her the woman's face split into a slow smile, "Hmm, I never thought we'd get a Shadowhunter whore here. What a twist indeed," she took another dragge of her cigarette before stepping aside, "please do come in."

Lucie took one glance behind her before following the lady in, and the door shut with a resounding click behind her.

The trek to the office was a short one. It was the first door inside, and Lucie barely got a look around at her surroundings before being ushered in.

The office itself was pretty standard, though there we're a few notable things about it. The door at the other end, the abundance of plants, and, most notable, the half naked woman, who Lucie thought to be vampire, lying across the office. She perked up as they entered.

"My, my, my, Catherine, what have you brought me today?" The vampire asked, eyeing Lucie with a look of hunger in her eyes. Lucie straightened up under her gaze.

"Lady Evelyn," the woman, Catherine, bowed as she spoke, "This Shadowhunter girl has come to us in hopes of employment here."

"Really," the vampire drawled out, looking Lucie up and down in such a way that made her face heat up, "What is your name girl?"

"Lucie Herondale," she answered, and felt herself flush even deeper as the vampire's eyes sparked. She knew she was sullying the Herondale name, but she had to do this for research.

"Well Miss Herondale," Lady Evelyn replied, "we'll have to get you different clothes, but I believe we can find a place for you here. It has been a long while since a Shadowhunter has been under my employment after all."

An hour later Lucie was already set up. She now wore a silk nightgown so skimpy she didn't know if it even counted as clothing, and was adorned in a beautiful glittery necklace. Her hair was let down, and fell around her shoulders. She sat perched on the edge of a large bed as she awaited her first customer nervously. Her heart beating so fast she was sure it would jump right out of her chest.

It was decided for the first few days at least she'd have her own private room, as a Shadowhunter whore would be quite exciting at first. After she'd be thrown into the same dark room as the majority of the other women, to be ogled by multiple people, and maybe be pulled out by a few. The thought both frightened and excited her in a way she didn't expect. Her thighs rubbed together a bit and she bit her lip.

It was at that moment the door rattled, and Lucie started, slowly it opened, and she could see who stood before her. A werewolf boy, no man, definitely a man, who had dark hair slightly greying at the edges, and wore a confident smirk on his face.

Lucie felt her pussy tighten just a bit as she took him in, her face flushing.

"So you're the Shadow'uner, eh?" The werewolf striding over to her.

Lucie raised her chin, "That I am," she responded as confidently as she could, his smile grew.

"I can already tell we're gunna ave lots of fun."

And suddenly he was on her, his mouth pressing harshly against hers, and she gasped. His tongue slipped in when she did and explored the inside of her mouth, his arms rapped around her lower back and pulled her in tightly to him, and Lucie moaned slightly at the motion, letting herself fall into the kiss.

He turned them, mouth still attacking hers, making her straddle his lap as they made out. Her hands went around his neck and up into his curly hair, feeling the softness of it as his hands began to trace patterns on her body, already pulling off the straps of her nightgown.

His mouth broke from hers then, as he started kissing and sucking her neck, causing her breath to hitch a little. As he did that he also kept tugging away on Lucie's nightgown, until her bossom was free, and a shiver of pleasure went through her body.

He paused then, just for a second, but it gave Lucie the opportunity to notice he had transformed a little, his teeth sharpened to fangs and claws out. She also noticed then of pressure against her legs, and swallowed lightly as she realized what it was.

She couldn't help but grind on him just a little bit at the thought. This in turn produced a growl from his throat that ordinarily should have made Lucie prepare for a fight, but in this case only turned her on more. He sprang then, and had her pinned down to floor, starting to attack her breasts viciously. Suckling and rolling the nipples with his tongue and grazing them with his teeth. Lucie couldn't hold into the moans of pleasure even if wanted to, which at this point she really didn't.

"Yes yes yes," she chanted as he ravaged her chest, which seemed to be do something to him, as in that moment he looked up at her, eyes darkening.

He sat back, "you seem to be aving fun aren you lil Shadow'uner?" He asked, and Lucie sat up a bit nodding. She couldn't help the bit of disappointment she felt as she did though. Why did he stop?

"Tha's good. Very good," he stood up and walked back a little and Lucie followed him with her eyes the whole time. He turned back to her and locked eyes, and then slowly began to undress.

Yesterday, or even earlier today, she would have looked away, but now she just stared at him hungrily, her pussy feeling wetter, and more tingly then it ever had before. The werewolf wore his smirk again, but Lucie didn't care, all she could focus on was his pants as he dropped them.

She gasped as his cock sprung free, it was bigger then she had anticipated, and though she had never seen a Dick before in her life, she had to assume it was bigger then most. She moaned as she thought of it sliding into her in only a couple of minutes.

He started his way back to her, and she forced herself to look back at his face as he crouched before her, his finger coming under her chin as he did.

"Lil Shadow'uner, I see you like wha' y'see," his smile was still in place, and still so confident, but Lucie figured then that he definitely had a reason for it, "Don' worry lil girl, I know i's you're firs time, so I won' make you suck it yet. Tha'll come, but for now we can skip it. How's tha sound?"

Lucie found her mouth too dry to talk then, so she nodded instead. He looked pleased at least.

"Good girl" he said, then pushed her shoulders down, forcing her back to lying. He quickly made his way down her body, and she gasped as his claws ripped away the last of her nightgown. Then, with no hesitation he spread her legs apart and jammed himself inside her.

The pleasure that overtook her in that moment was astounding. It was like a wave crashing over her, and she couldn't hold back the scream of pleasure she released in that instance as her back arched to him.

She heard him chuckle at the sound, "you are a slutty lil Shado'uner, aren ya?" He said, but she didn't respond. Nor did she care. The only thing that mattered then was him inside of her. As his hips rolled in and out she again found herself chanting "Yes yes yes" as wave after wave of pleasure overtook her again and again.

Finally the werewolf climaxed, and pulled out of her. Lucie just later there as he got up, feeling too drained and overcome to move in that moment. He took a look at her laying there and laughed. Shaking his head as he headed towards the door.

Before he left though he turned back and said, "Not bad for a firs time girl," then she heard the door shut beind him.

It was then that Lucie slowly got to her feet, her legs a bit shaky as she did. The door opened again, and she looked at it half hoping the werewolf was back, and was disappointed to find it was the nymphs who had helped her get ready earlier. Probably here to clean her up again.

She perked at that thought. That meant that someone else would be coming, and she suddenly couldn't wait for that.

Note: I'm tagging this right now, but if people would rather I didn't please let me know.

[artificialqueens]

(I Can Still Recall) Our Last Summer - Chapter Four (Group Fic) - pureCAMP

A/N - forever begging for your love, attention and feedback!! send ur thoughts here or to @purecamp and let me know how ur all feeling!! anyway here’s wonderwall xo

two new challengers arrive on the scene…..

It was a different kind of sex to the kind Sharon was used to, admittedly. Jaremi was every bit as wild and carefree in bed as he was in his general lifestyle. It was exactly what she needed, in truth - an escape to just close her eyes, grip the bedsheets and let the waves of pleasure erase her heartache one orgasm at a time. 

True to their new no-strings-attached attitude, once it was over, they simply lay beside one another in the bed, completely naked, not touching. Sharon tried to catch her breath, pushing down the rising urge to become affectionate. She didn’t even know Jaremi, and besides - it was a habit she was going to break, for her own good.

“So…” Jaremi’s voice was slightly breathless. “About what just happened?”

Sharon rolled her eyes. “Is this the part where you call me a whore for sleeping with you?”

“Not at all. I’m just curious. You don’t seem like the type to do this all the time. I’m a writer, like I said. I want to know your story.”

Staring up at the ceiling, Sharon didn’t dare to lower her gaze, not really sure where she should be looking. The vulnerability of her situation was beginning to set in, and she didn’t like it one bit.

“I don’t really have a story.” She lied. “My…”

She caught herself before she could say boyfriend. What was Justin? He had seemed like so much more than that. They’d never really talked about whether they were an item or not, it just seemed to happen. Probably, Sharon thought bitterly, he had avoided that conversation to hide his dirty secret and use her. Nothing else seemed right. She had thought of him as a lover, even going as far as to say she had truly believed that he was the one; clearly she had been alone in that belief.

“I was cheated.” She managed, once again forcing down the unwelcome feeling that came with those words. “So I’m trying something new. No strings, no attachments, no feelings.”

Jaremi nodded, offering no sympathy. In a way, Sharon was glad for his lack of emotional connection. The last thing she needed was to end up crying on someone else’s shoulder.

“I can do that.” He affirmed, nonchalant as ever. “I’ll be around, exploring the local area.”

Sharon grinned in spite of herself. “And the local girls?”

“Maybe. If they’re as easy as you are.”

Laughing, she moved to whack him with the pillow, cursing when he swerved out of her way. “Dammit!”

She sat up, suddenly acutely aware of her nakedness. She wasn’t sure how to feel - whether she should be proud or modest with her nudity. After all, it had been different with Justin. She had been sure that he loved her, and he made her feel truly beautiful. With Jaremi, she was just sexy. Was she supposed to act sexy?

Resolving to just stay casual, she tried to ignore the strange amalgamation of pride and insecurity mingling in her chest. “We should be nearing land. Go check, Captain.”

Jaremi poked his head above deck. “I see it. You planning on getting dressed before showing me around?”

Sharon forced a laugh. “Yeah, maybe. You say that a lot, huh?”

“What?”

“Maybe.”

“Oh.” Jaremi paused. “I guess I do. It’s better than yes or no. You can’t get mad at a maybe. You and I both know that no commitment is the way to go, after all.”

Sharon hugged her knees, reaching for her t-shirt as Jaremi left the room and climbed on deck to take control of the sails.

“Yeah… I guess it is.” She mumbled.

-

Just before Sharon headed in the front door, she ducked towards the shed. Jaremi had sailed her to and from the island every day for the past week and a half, the two of them keeping their affair as secret as they could. Any time her heart began to ache, or her mind began to wander towards the one that got away, she could rely on Jaremi to take her mind off of him.

They didn’t talk much. Jaremi was funny, if a little immature sometimes, but Sharon didn’t care. She wasn’t there to fall in love, but rather the opposite. She had fallen too hard and too soon, and their stress-free relationship was exactly what she needed. They were hardly friends, let alone lovers. He was just someone to fuck, and nothing more.

Since Justin had left and Jaremi had arrived, Sharon had distanced herself from everything and everyone. She still performed with Raja and Jinkx nearly every night, but she couldn’t bear the pity she saw in their eyes, nor the whispers when they thought she was out of earshot. Their concern was touching, tangible proof that they loved her, but it hurt to be reminded of her own pain. She needed to escape from it all.

It was surprisingly easy to lie. Sharon just kept herself away, wandering the island alone and fucking Jaremi on the way home after her shows, explaining to her girls that she just needed time alone to think. At least, she reasoned, it wasn’t a total lie. She was thinking a lot - perhaps too much.

As for her mother, she was easily fooled too. Mostly, she told her that she had been sleeping at Raja’s, and her friends were happy to cover for her whenever the lie was questioned. Besides, Sharon couldn’t deny that she had been enjoying herself, at first. Sex and secrecy and sinning in broad daylight in the middle of the ocean had given her the most decadent thrill. Despite that, though, a lot of her sadness had begun converting itself to anger and bitterness. This is all that I was to him, her mind kept telling her. A cheap fuck. The hooker they hire for stag parties.

Such were the thoughts that often struck her as she lay beneath Jaremi, feeling him moving inside her and gasping when appropriate. He didn’t care if her head smacked against the headboard behind them, and in her mindless state she hardly noticed. She just stared up at the ceiling, emotionally and physically numb to everything she knew she should’ve been feeling. Truthfully, it wasn’t fun anymore.

Too often, she gazed in the mirror after Jaremi left to carry on steering his little ship, and just looked at herself. She had grown accustomed to her own nakedness, her own numbness. She stared at the dark bags beneath her eyes and the black makeup smeared around them, the way her lipstick had been ferociously kissed off, the way that her skin was peppered with marks she didn’t even remember receiving.

Never before had she felt so detached from her own body.

But she had to save face, and keep up her image. Inside the shed, she quickly changed into more suitable clothing and discarded her flashy, fitted costume inside an empty paint tin, to be collected the following morning. There were some rules Sharon would never be reckless enough to break. Even so, there was a nagging feeling in the back of her mind that she had forgotten something.

As quietly as she could, avoiding all of the creaks and bumps she had learnt to identify, Sharon crept inside.

“It’s getting dark, where have you been?” Her mother asked sternly, already waiting for her in the living room. 

Sharon swallowed, her mind briefly filling her head with flashbacks of that day. Somehow, she didn’t think that admitting how she had been laid out below deck in Jaremi’s boat would go down very well. She twirled her hair nervously around her fingers, praying it would cover any hickeys that Jaremi had left on her neck and chest.

“I’m sorry.” She rushed out, ashamed of the deep-rooted fear her mother could instil into her. “I was helping Raja and Jinkx to pack, I didn’t realize it was so late. It won’t happen again.”

Her mother was stood tall, arms crossed over her chest, her crucifix necklace gleaming in the low light. Not a single hair was out of place from her neat bun, and her face was fixed into a scowl. Sharon didn’t remember the last time she had seen her own mother smile at her. She supposed that was what happened when her impossible standards would never be met by her less-than-perfect daughter.

“Hmph.” Was the response, blatantly unsatisfied. “Perhaps if you had tried harder in school, you could be going to university too. But you failed and gave up, didn’t you?”

That stung, but she wasn’t going to show it. No, her mother didn’t deserve the satisfaction of her tears. It wasn’t her fault that she had dropped out - it was her failing grades, the information that just didn’t sink in, the knowledge that she wasn’t good enough to even sit the exams. As if she had needed more confirmation that she would never be enough.

Still, she lifted her chin. “I’ll miss them. I hope they visit.”

Her mother frowned deeper. “You’ve been missing church. People are talking, Sharon, and you know I don’t like that.”

Almost subconsciously, Sharon found herself lowering her head in submission. “I’m sorry.”

“They think you’re abandoning the faith completely. I’m disgusted at you.” She spat. “You’re coming tomorrow whether you like it or not. Understand?

Sharon nodded meekly. “Yes, ma’am.”

Her mother sniffed. “And wash that makeup off your face. You look like a little tart, and I won’t have my daughter parading around like a prostitute.”

Without another word, Sharon made her way upstairs. She wished desperately she could’ve used some of that courage her friends were always telling her she had, but she knew she would never be able to, that she didn’t really possess it. There were a hundred and one things she would’ve loved to say to her mother that would never, ever be said.

Sharon felt smaller than ever as she shut the bedroom door behind her, reaching for a flannel to scrub the offending makeup from her skin. The complexity of her feelings was confusing, to say the least, as she tried to make sense of it all. Fear and anxiety swirled in the pit of her stomach from being at home. Anger and heartbreak from Justin plagued her chest. Desire and regret from Jaremi filled her entire body. Nothing seemed to make sense. Everything was conflicted.

Somehow though, beyond all explanation, she was physically trapped, but she felt free.

A knock on the window broke her out of her thoughts. She had just began to change, and her heart leapt into her mouth when she turned around, instinctively covering her bruised chest with an ugly cardigan.

“Jinkx?!” She whisper-shouted, rushing to slide the window open. “What are you doing here?!”

She stepped aside to let her in, hurrying to finish changing. In the meantime, Jinkx climbed somewhat heavily into her room, Raja hot on her heels but with a little more grace and balance. Before Sharon even knew what was happening, they were stood in her room, bearing matching grins and holding a bottle of wine each.

“I can’t believe this…” She murmured. “Guys, if my mom finds out you’re here-”

Jinkx held up a hand, slapping it over Sharon’s mouth to shut her up. “She won’t, chill out. We just came to see how you’re doing.”

“And by that, she means - we have two bottles of wine and three glasses.” Raja supplied. “Although I was kidding about the glasses. We’re swigging.”

Sharon laughed; it was a simple, pure laugh not elicited by boys, nor tainted with flirtation and heartbreak. It was the realization of how lucky she was to have her dumb friends.

“Bring it on, girls. Do your worst.” She grinned. “Sorry I’ve been so disconnected.”

Raja shook her head, pulling her and Jinkx onto the tiny single bed and attempting to squeeze under the covers. “None of that, now.” She said firmly, wedging Sharon in between her and Jinkx and handing her a bottle of red. “We understand. We’re here to show you how much we love you.”

It was utterly ridiculous. Raja was far too long for her bed, and in an attempt to make sure they all could fit, both girls had their arms wrapped around Sharon’s middle in an awkward, well-meaning cuddle. Even trying to drink the wine was an ordeal, but Sharon stored away the good feelings bubbling inside her to keep for later. Her friends had ventured out of their way to help her, and there weren’t many people in Sharon’s life who would do that. Jaremi certainly wouldn’t, and she wouldn’t expect him to. Justin… Sharon had thought that he would, only to realize she was wrong. She was lucky to have her girls.

They were all she had.

With the extent of her solitude, Sharon hadn’t been drinking much since Justin had left; she suspected her heart was a little too fragile to cope with it. It didn’t take too long for the half a bottle that she had managed - the rest, of course, commandeered by her friends - to set her off.

She buried her face in Jinkx’s shoulder, inhaling her musky perfume, and let a few stray tears fall onto her shirt. After the original heartbreak, she had sworn she wouldn’t let it overcome her again, but that was too difficult a promise to keep. Distancing herself for protection had done nothing to fill the cracks in her heart that had been left behind. Maybe a good cry was what she needed.

“You need bolstering.” Raja decided, planting a kiss on the closest bit of her she could find, which happened to be her cheek. “We’re gonna bolster you.”

“Talk to us, baby. So we can bolster.” Jinkx cuddled, if possible, even closer.

Sharon gave a short laugh, mirthless and soon fizzling out. “I don’t hate him. I feel like I should hate him.”

“I hate him.” Raja said, her voice laced with venom. “After what he did to you? If I saw him now-”

Sharon cut her off. “I would thank him. He taught me so much that I never had a chance of knowing before. I’m so angry at him.”

She paused. “My god, I’m angry at him. I’m furious. He played me. He played me and he doesn’t deserve a single second of my time and yet whenever I’m alone all I can think about is his eyes. His stupid fucking angel eyes.”

In her drunken state, the truth was confusing and yet clear all at once. The problem with the mindless convenience sex she’d been engaging in with Jaremi was exactly that - it was mindless. What she needed was a real distraction, something to pull her away from the grasp that Justin had on her.

“It’s always the pretty ones.” Jinkx agreed glumly. “They take your heart and then you have to pay the price.”

Raja hummed a little tune. “Call me a crazy drunk bitch, but-”

“Crazy drunk bitch.” Sharon and Jinkx replied in unison.

“Okay, fuck you.” Raja laughed. “But seriously. I’ve had this little melody in my head for forever. Sharon, you can put words to it. We’ll kill two birds with one stone.”

Sharon frowned, her mind fuzzy. “Words about what? What birds, anyway?”

“Words about him!” Raja exclaimed. “Everything you’re feeling. Slate him within an inch of his life. It’ll get your feelings out and The Supermodels are in need of a fresh new sound to reflect how much things have changed this summer.”

“After church…” Sharon nodded slowly. “I’m being forced into going tomorrow, but I’ll be free all day after that. If we can pull this off-”

“Then we’re officially the coolest girl-power band ever.” Jinkx supplied.

Sharon sighed, feeling woozy but more content than she had in a long time. “I love you girls so much.”

“We love you too.” They replied, scarily synchronised. Jinkx stroked her hair. “Go to sleep, sweetheart.”

The following morning, Sharon woke to a tangle of limbs and hair entwined around her body. Jinkx was drooling, her face unattractively smashed into the pillow and her hair flying around her head. Similarly, Raja was curled up against Sharon, her mouth wide open as she snored loudly. Truly, she thought to herself with a laugh, they were a charming bunch. She was almost certain that she didn’t look much better than they did.

No sooner had she woken up, though, her door knocked loudly. The jarring sound jolted both of her friends awake, and Sharon had to clap her hands over each of their mouths to prevent them from giving themselves away. That would have been suicide.

“Sharon? Are you awake yet?”

At the sound of her mother’s voice, Sharon blanched. “Uh - yes! I’m just - just getting ready!”

A loud grunt. “Hmph. Hurry up, will you? You will not make me late for church, young lady.”

“Of course not.” Sharon replied, hating how easily she regressed into her meek, unimportant daughter role. “I won’t be long.”

As soon as she was sure that her mother’s footsteps had disappeared, Sharon opened her wardrobe, listening to Raja and Jinkx groaning. More than anything, she wanted to finally stand up to her mother, as they were always telling her to do, but she didn’t have the strength. Her heart was aching and the courage that she had felt when she had been with Justin had long since dissipated. An all-consuming wave of shame and embarrassment rolled over her.

“You two should go.” She suggested, her cheeks flaming. “I have to get ready… She can’t see you.”

Jinkx stretched. “It’s alright, we can go out the window again. Don’t worry about us.”

Sharon smiled weakly. “If I can face the stage later, I’ll be there. So long as I survive church, anyhow.”

Raja let out an almighty snort. “Girl, I don’t know how you do it. But you gotta come along tonight! Song or no song, we’re gonna dress up and we’re gonna dance and you’re gonna be our dancing queen again. We can find you a new man, or maybe a cutie to take the edge off…”

Both girls remained in Sharon’s bed as she began to change, tugging the skirt down and the shirt up in an attempt to look as modest as she could. Normally, she would use makeup to try and hide the dark circles underneath her eyes, but she didn’t have much time. Besides, her mother called her a tart for wearing even the slightest hint of cosmetics.

“I look like shit.” Sharon grumbled, staring at herself with distaste. Raja not-so-subtly elbowed Jinkx and hissed “Bolster!”

“No, baby!” Jinkx rubbed her arm, glaring at Raja as she swung herself out of the bed. “You’re beautiful!”

“She’s right, you know.” Raja nodded, glaring back. “I tried to flirt with this guy the other night and he did give it to me, but then he did admit that he has a thing for blondes more than anything, so he might be interested in you. I think he said his name was Jaremi. Maybe we can find him tonight, set you up.”

Sharon laughed nervously. “Yeah, maybe…”

She wasn’t sure why, but it didn’t feel right to tell them that she’d been seeing anyone, let alone that it was Jaremi. It wasn’t like they were going to judge her - they had been doing more outrageous things for a much longer time - but it felt like a secret she had to keep to herself.

It wasn’t like it would matter, anyway. Soon enough they’d be going off to their universities, getting with as many guys and girls as they wanted, and they wouldn’t be physically able to tell one another about each and every encounter. Perhaps it was just for the best.

Sharon tried not to think about them leaving.

“SHARON! COME ON! WE ARE GOING TO BE LATE!”

Her eyes wide, Sharon practically shoved her friends towards the window and dashed from her room, taking the stairs two at a time in her hurry to evade punishment. At the bottom of the stairs, hands on her hips, her mother looked as judgemental and expectant as ever.

“Hmph. Skirt’s a little short, don’t you think?” 

Sharon tried to calm her breathing. “Is it? I-”

A sharp slap cut her off. “You look disgraceful. I’ve half a mind to make you change, but we don’t have time. The Lord doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

“I didn’t realize the Lord was operating on a time limit.” Sharon replied, cupping her stinging cheek. “Here was me thinking he loves us all eternally.”

Her mother’s face hardened. For a moment, Sharon could see the resemblance between the two of them, and she despised it. She swore she would never look at her future daughter the way her mother was looking at her, with anger and hatred in her gaze. As her mother raised her hand again, Sharon narrowed her eyes.

“Do it, and I’ll tell the vicar exactly why my face is so red.” She threatened, clenching her jaw. “I’m dressed, I’m ready. Pretty sure the Lord is waiting for us.”

Despite the rage blazing in her eyes, her mother simply turned and walked out, giving in to the argument. There would be hell to pay later - meaning Sharon had to avoid going home for as long as she could manage - but that was fine. She could check with Fernando, see how the weather was going to be, and take a chance. Shivering through a storm would be better than coming home to this.

As they arrived, late as expected, Sharon split from her mother to the only other available seat, next to a young man that she didn’t recognise. She knew the act of splitting and sitting by a man, in itself, would irritate her mother, but that was beside the point. She needed to get away.

The guy winked at her as she slipped into the seat beside him, acknowledging the length of her skirt with a smirk. Sharon cocked an eyebrow at him, letting the neckline of her shirt fall lower as it was supposed to and adjusting her rosary so it rested atop her now-slightly exposed cleavage.

Flirting in church. That was new.

The blonde eyed her up and down, chuckling quietly to himself before focusing on the service again. Thankfully, the old lady next to him didn’t seem to notice anything out of the ordinary, so Sharon was able to avoid another set of glaring eyes.

As the service went on, the blonde gestured discreetly, making a mockery of the priest’s words and stories as he droned on. It was all Sharon could do not to burst out laughing in the middle of the service, lest she be ripped to shreds.

Part of her wanted to start talking to the stranger when the service was over, and see if he was as amusing as he seemed in the midst of the service, but she mentally decided against it. Girl time, she reminded herself. She had Jaremi if she needed anything, and the very last thing she needed was to add another guy into the mix. Still, she could see a spark in him - like how his eyes had glazed over, telling of the fact that he, like herself, wasn’t all too invested in the preaching of the church.

When the service ended, she blew a kiss and left sharpish. Getting caught up with her mother would definitely end badly, so she was quick to dive out of the way and take a few back streets towards the dock. 

I can’t believe her, she thought to herself. I can’t believe she fucking hit me again. No. Fuck her. She doesn’t deserve my time, even in my thoughts.

Instead, her thoughts drifted - regrettably - back to Justin. Raja and Jinkx had a point, that she should be angry at him too, and writing might make her feel better, but she still wasn’t so sure. The whole situation made her feel sick to the stomach whenever she thought about him. Staring at that photograph, the look that he was giving that girl… it was so familiar and yet so alien that it made her shiver.

There was too much to say. Too much for one song, surely. She wasn’t sure if she was angry, or sad, or lonely. She was just conflicted and confused, and it was his fault. He was impossible to write about - not again.

-

“There’s two.” 

Jinkx nearly fell off her barstool. “Two? What, like two verses, or?”

“Two songs.” Sharon corrected her. “I don’t know what happened! I just - I don’t know!”

She sighed. “He’s been gone for two weeks. I don’t know why I still care. But when I put pen to paper, it was like I couldn’t stop. All I can think about is him.”

Raja pursed her lips, evidently displeased. “Fucker. And he’s not even sparing a thought in your direction.”

Seemingly delighted at the opportunity, Jinkx thwacked Raja as hard as she could. “Raj, bolster! Besides, we don’t know that. Maybe he’s thinking about how he made a huge mistake, and how we’re gonna beat the crap out of him. Anyway, we’re bolstering.”

Sharon giggled. “I don’t need bolstering! I’m fine, just frazzled. Besides, only one of them could actually be performed, this one has no substance to it whatsoever. It’s just prose of me whining about how one of us is happy and one of us isn’t.”

“Prose is a big word for you.”

“Thank you.” She laughed, properly this time. “Anyway, fuckin’… there you go. Angel Eyes. All about deception. It should fit your melody, Raja. It’s only rough anyway.”

Cosied up at the bar together, they began dissecting through the song, humming sections and scribbling annotations onto the paper. As usual, the little taverna was empty in the daytime, save for a few regulars sipping at their beers and Maria, washing mugs with a rag. With any luck, it would fill up in the evening, drawing people in with their music. Some nights they even had to perform outside, the venue too small to contain the amount of people that wanted to drink and dance and listen to the band. Sharon hoped tonight would be one of those nights.

“Maria! My God, you’re beautiful!”

Maria chuckled as a man’s voice yelled out the compliment, loud enough to attract the attention of everyone in the taverna.

“You flatter, Willam. Your great grandmother Pat come through here not so long ago, you just miss her by minutes.”

Willam laughed good-naturedly. “Can’t believe she’s ninety two years old and faster than me. Hey, it’s you! From church!”

This time, his words were directed at Sharon, who hadn’t looked up from the plethora of notes and doodles that now covered the song. When she met his gaze, she let out a little gasp of disbelief.

“What are you doing here?” She found herself blurting out.

“What are you doing here?” He responded, mimicking her tone with a grin. “I have family here!”

Sharon nodded, dumbfounded. “I have a job here…” She gestured to the paper.

Without asking, Willam snatched the paper from beneath Jinkx’s pen and began to scan through it, much to the protests of the girls. After a few moments of skim-reading, he nodded and handed it back.

“Ooh, girl. Who did this to you? Someone on the island? I come here sometimes, I might know them to kick their ass, or get them fired.”

Sharon laughed. “He’s gone, it doesn’t matter.”

Raja frowned. “Sharon, who is this?”

“I don’t know.” Sharon admitted. “Blondie?”

Willam extended his hand, shaking Raja’s vigorously. Something about his unwavering smile was amusing, and she ended up laughing. It was too fake to be real, but a little too real to be entirely fake. It didn’t make much sense, but Sharon was beginning to realize that most men didn’t make much sense.

“I’m Willam, obviously. You just heard darling Maria announce my presence. Sharon and I met earlier today, I guess you could say.” A mischievous sparkle lit up his blue eyes. “She showed me her tits in church.”

Sharon gasped. “I did not!” She defended herself. “It was a tease at best.”

Jinkx laughed uproariously. “Sharon! God, we’ve taught you well.”

“Your song is good, girls.” Willam said suddenly, peering over Raja’s shoulder once more to see what she was writing. “I think I’ll come down tonight to watch, maybe bring Pat with me. I’m a musician too, I’ve performed here a few times. I’ll be seeing you.”

He gave a little wave as he went out, blowing a kiss in the same manner that Sharon had as she left church.

“I guess you will,” Sharon called after him, pushing down the sinking feeling in her chest. This really is the last thing you need. Even if he is attractive, you don’t need to get mixed up with another guy.

If only she had the willpower.

[likethetailofacomet]

Scattershield

A/N: So. Here’s the Ride or Die fic I never thought I’d write, because I never thought I’d play this book let alone enjoy it. But hot damn the supporting characters are way too interesting to ignore. I won’t be writing any pairings for this book. I won’t be doing any lovey dovey stuff for this book. I want to explore the motives and the thought processes of these diverse and intriguing characters, starting with Logan. 

Warning: Swearing, Mentions of drug use, violence, blood, A N G S T. 

Word Count: 2,761

Why couldn’t she have just run? Logan dragged a swollen, raw hand through his hair, letting out a breath slowly. His ribs ached from the kicks Salazar had rained down on him, his right eye was badly bruised and his nose had surely been broken. But none of that mattered; it was old hat. He was used to street fights, accustomed to broken bones and bloodied lips. He’d eaten pavement almost as much as he’d burned rubber on it, and he’d given out his fair share of beatings, too. But nothing he’d done or been through had ever felt like this. Guilt ignited like a flint spark in his chest the second he realized that Amber had no intention of leaving him in that parking lot. Why couldn’t she have just run? Left me like everyone does so I wouldn’t have to give a shit? 

She’d gotten hurt, too. He cringed remembering how she’d been thrown into the door handle of a nearby car, opening a gash on her forehead. He’d been pinned to the ground and unable to do anything, to... to protect her. When she hadn’t run, there was something else that sparked in his chest, mixing with the guilt, and it was a furiously growing need to protect her. Not because he had feelings for her, but because somehow she’d seen fit to care about him, to stay. Sure, the rest of the crew had shown up but that’s because the odds were in their favor. Had there been one or two more of Salazar’s guys there, they’d have high tailed it and left him like roadkill, and he knew it.

But not Amber. She didn’t have it in her to walk away from someone who needed help, especially not someone she knew and trusted. Or thought she did. She only knew what he wanted her to; she only trusted what she didn’t know. She had no idea who he really was. She’d be a goddamn fool to trust him if she did, and Amber Wheeler wasn’t a fool. Top of her class, college bound, this girl was unstoppable. It had been easy when he thought she was just some preppy, privileged valley kid, some Barbie doll daddy’s girl. Easy to lead her on, say the right things. Easy to play her, take advantage of her, use everything about who she was against her. All of it was easy until he’d gotten to know her. All of it was justifiable, by his standards, until she’d stuck it out for him in that fight. Fuck. He inhaled sharply, not at the gnarly cut across his collarbone courtesy of Sal’s size 11 boot, but at the way it felt to have her want to take care of him afterwards. No one’s ever really... fuck. 

He’d had no one to do anything for him since he was fifteen, and even before that, even when his mom was still around, she wasn’t really around. He’d had to do more taking care of her than she was capable of doing for him. He’d carried her to bed, he’d made sure she’d eaten, hell; he’d even brushed her damn teeth once or twice so they wouldn’t rot out of her face. In truth it was better after she got locked up, even if it meant he was on his own. He had his step brother, but Miles had slowly been separating himself from the family since their father was killed a few years earlier. Logan couldn’t blame him. Miles was like Amber; smart, did well in school. He even got a scholarship for basketball. He had a girlfriend, lived in a campus apartment, and certainly didn’t need his street rat kid brother burdening his life. The last time Miles had called, about a year ago, Logan had told him that he was staying with friends, that he had a place to sleep and that he was going to work on his GED. One of those things is true. He rolled over in his bed above Kaneko’s garage, gingerly reaching for his bruised ribs with his left hand, and stared out the thick panes of glass on the far wall of the loft.

He wondered how long he had here, with this crew and this roof, especially now that Colt was back… especially now that Amber was around. He sighed, thinking of Marissa; of how she equaled up to a puddle of used motor oil in comparison to Amber’s loyalty and kindness. Marissa was a beautiful girl. She wore the right clothes that were tight in the right places, styled her hair the right way and applied her makeup flawlessly. She was fearless. She wasn’t reserved on the streets or in the sheets- she’d been Logan’s first, using her vast experience to show him the ropes. She was a sticky, sweet trap and Logan had flown right into her, falling hard and fast and not really knowing why or what it meant. When he’d told her that he loved her, she’d laughed at him, kissed him on the cheek and said “they all do, Logan…they all do.” Three days later he’d walked in on her and Marcos, the getaway driver on the crew he was running with at the time, and he realized what she meant when she said “all”. He wasn’t special to her. She didn’t love him. She didn’t even care, didn’t even make an excuse or look embarrassed when he’d walked in on her with her tongue down Marcos’ throat and his hands inside her shirt. Marissa didn’t love him. No one did, or could, or would. No one thought twice about Logan the grease monkey.

Until Amber. He wasn’t delusional enough to think that she’d developed feelings for him, and he didn’t see her that way either, but still, there was something…everything…about her that stuck in his heart like a piece of jagged shrapnel. She wanted to know him, she wanted to care, she wanted to be his friend…wanted to be with him, to be in his life, not just use him for sex or money or for what he could do for her. She didn’t know or care enough about cars to use him for his knowledge or skills. She simply wanted to be kind, wanted to be around. He didn’t know what that meant, didn’t have any experience with something like this. His own blood didn’t seem to want to be around him. Marcos and Marissa and the rest of his last crew didn’t want to be around him. Mona, X and Toby didn’t even really make many attempts to know him or care about him; as long as he showed up on job days, as long as he pulled off the right moves and charmed the right detective’s daughter, what did they care? They saved his ass because they needed him for the upcoming job, and it would take too long to find a trustworthy replacement. That was the long and short of it. But what did Amber need him for? Nothing. She was more than capable of doing what she wanted or needed on her own. “You’re kind of a mess, Logan” she’d said to him earlier, when she was bandaging him up after the fight. What she wanted had been as simple as just the chance to show him that she cared.

Logan was a good looking guy, and he was aware of that. After Marissa there had been a few girls that passed in and out of his loft, a few girls whose lofts he’d passed in and out of as well. All of them would have used the chance to “take care of him” to get him in bed, would have offered to “kiss it better”, would have ignored the pain he was in to satisfy their own selfish desires. But not Amber. He’d even joked with her about her trying to get him naked when she’d asked him to take his shirt off. She’d just looked at him, her head tilted to one side, doe eyes full of concern as he’d removed his blood stained tee, revealing the deep laceration across his clavicle, the angry red and magenta bruises that were swelling on the right side of his ribcage. She’d gasped, but not the kind of gasp he’d heard from girls like Marissa, the kind of gasp that told him she’d never seen anything like this before…the kind of gasp that told him she was frightened for him. “Logan…” she’d said his name so softly, like a whisper, like a wish. He’d never heard his name sound like that before, and when she reached out and touched him, there were no ulterior motives behind it other than cleaning his wounds and stopping the bleeding and applying ice to the swelling. She’d gently rubbed cream on the deep cut over his eyebrow, carefully avoiding the welt forming on his cheek, laying her fingertips feather-light atop his battered skin as she looked into his eyes. The right one was scarlet red from the several broken blood vessels, the left narrowed, as he stared up at her, his head in her lap.

“Amber…I’m so sorry…for all of this, for putting you in this situation, for…” he cut himself off. For using you. For dragging you into this world, for putting you and your father in danger, for looking at you like everyone looks at me. He needed to tell her the truth. He wanted to tell her the truth, even if it meant losing the only person who’d ever really shown him that he was worth giving a shit about. But he couldn’t do it yet…he was ashamed, but he needed this, needed the way she was taking care of him…needed to feel like he was worth more than his weight in engine parts. He closed his eyes as she moved the ice from the top of his brow to the crest of his cheek.

“Hey,” she said, a slight waver to her voice as she scrunched her nose and shook her head, “don’t worry about it, okay? Just…just don’t go getting into any more fights. I’m not that good at this,” she gestured with the roll of gauze in her hand as she packed it back in the first aid kit. She sighed, her eyebrows coming together. “They got you good, Logan,” she frowned.  

“Not good enough,” he tried to flash her a smile to cover the way he was feeling, but he was pretty sure it just came off as a wince and her frown deepened. What she probably heard was “I can take it, I’ve had worse”, which was true, but what he’d meant was “Not good enough, I’m still here, still alive, they should have killed me” which would have solved the problem of how and when to explain to her that he wasn’t the person she thought he was, that he wasn’t worth all the trouble she’d put herself in to be there for him.

She’d responded by swallowing and giving him a sad shake of her head as she finished cleaning up the bandages and supplies. She carefully removed herself from under his head and shoulders and crossed the loft to stow the kit in the cabinet that she’d seen Logan take it from. He watched her, that guilt still spreading through him like a slow burning flame. As she stood, she turned back towards him, wiping her hands on her jeans. “Okay, we should get some more ice on that,” she pointed to the welt on his cheek. “I’ll go down and grab some, okay? You can stay here and rest.”

Logan winced as he shook his head, sitting up. “No way, I’m coming with you.” I don’t trust anyone down there, don’t trust that they won’t slip and tell her something, don’t trust they won’t try to make a move on her. He followed her downstairs to the small kitchen, where she’d reached into the freezer to refill the ice bag. In the brighter light, he saw the cut on her forehead better than he had upstairs in the loft- it was more than just a bump and a scrape, it was deeper than he’d originally thought. His blood went cold as he remembered the sound she’d made when she hit that car, the pain he’d heard from her, and yet, here she was taking care of him. The spark of guilt had completely combusted when he saw the dried blood near her hairline. Just as she turned to face him, ready to go back upstairs, he’d reached out and closed his fingers around her wrist, his swollen knuckles protesting as he squeezed lightly to get her attention. “Amber, you’re hurt…” He didn’t sound like himself, his tone deflated.

She absently touched the spot on her forehead and shrugged. “It’s not so bad, really, you’re…”

Logan’s eyes darkened then. He dropped her wrist and balled his fists, furious with Salazar, furious with himself, furious with Kaneko and Colt and the whole crew. “Why didn’t you leave when I told you to run, Amber?”

She blinked at him as though she didn’t understand the question, as though he’d asked it in some foreign language. “I wasn’t about to just leave you, Logan, are you crazy? They could have...” she shook her head. “I wasn’t going to leave you.”

He took a step towards her then. “You have to, okay? You have to be able to walk away at any time or else…” Or else something will happen to you and it will be my fault. Or else I’ll have to come clean. Or else I’ll have to change everything about who I am…and I don’t know if I can. He screwed up his face in a serious expression, and she must have noticed.

“Okay…” she said, just as softly as she’d said his name upstairs. “Okay, Logan, I’ll listen next time. Just…come on, let’s get you back upsta-“

Now. You have to make her leave now. She just said she’d listen. Make her prove it. Make her show you that she has enough sense to walk away from you, you piece of shit. He wanted her to stay. He wanted her to keep taking care of him, to show him she was there for him, to ease the physical pain he was in. But the physical pain was nothing compared to the inferno of guilt and shame that was destroying him from the inside out. “Amber, you should go home.” His throat burned with the venom he put into his words, but he needed her to leave, needed to know she was home and safe and far from him.

Her eyebrows flew up as her soft brown eyes doubled in size. Her bottom lip quivered slightly, but she bit it back, not wanting him to see that his words were affecting her. “But, I…”

“Go home, Amber. You don’t belong here.” He stood stock still while his heart pounded painfully and the fire roared on. She straightened her spine and fixed the sleeve of her sweater that had slid down her shoulder. With a nod that sent her curls bouncing, and a twitch of her lips that filled his heart with lead, she turned without a word and headed out the garage door. He watched her go until he heard the door bang shut. He waited a few more minutes to make sure she hadn’t come back, and when he was sure she hadn’t, he took the bag of ice and headed back up to the loft.

Good. She listened. She’s gone. He sunk into his bed as the weight of day sunk heavily on top of him. She’s gone. It was what he wanted. It was what he needed. It was what he wished she’d done earlier. So why did it feel like a mistake? Why did it feel like he was sealing his fate as friendless, lonely, lower -than -dirt Logan? Because that’s what you are. That’s what you deserve.  Get her out of here, contain the damage. Protect her. But even as he thought the words, even as he tried to believe them, he recalled her eyes and the way she’d looked at him. He recalled her voice, and the things she’d said. He recalled her hands and the way it had felt to be touched by someone who wanted nothing in return. Fuck. Why couldn’t she have been some cookie cutter rich kid? Why did she have to be her? Why couldn’t she have left?  

Tagging: @brightpinkpeppercorn @zaffrenotes @ooo-barff-ooo @the-everlasting-dream @ritachacha @jovialyouthmusic @notoriouscs @ifyouseekheart @mkatschoicesblog @queen-among-writers

let me know if you would like to be added to (or removed from!) the RoD tag list!

[ohnojustimagine]

Gods and Monsters

Tommaso Ciampa/Reader, Johnny Gargano/Reader, some vaguely implied Tommaso/Johnny feelings

Demon AU; Smut & Angst, 5880 words

Candice is in here a little bit so technically there’s cheating. Sort of. And I started this after Takeover and it probably doesn't quite fit with the latest NXT, but oh well.

-

You couldn't even say how long it's been. Years, you know that, but how many? Hundreds, you're sure, centuries... perhaps two, perhaps three? The passing of time is mostly an irrelevancy for you, but it can be helpful to be aware of such things.

You stir gradually, waking as if from a deep slumber, your human form slowly beginning to shape itself, and you do not rush the process. It requires a very specific set of circumstances for you to manifest, and while there are others of your kind who are less exacting in their needs, you prefer to keep your standards high.

Objects are your thing, what you attach yourself to, items imbued with certain kinds of power by certain kinds of people, and this one is a true beauty, you can tell even now. You hear it calling to you, the siren songs of chaos and darkness, your lifeblood, what sustains you, and as you allow yourself to be drawn in, you begin to see it.

It's a belt of some kind, and obviously not a practical item of clothing (of course, you scoff internally, because as if you would be woken by anything so ordinary and mundane) but something ornate and ceremonial, a symbol of authority that can only be earned, worn by a person who commands respect. Gold plates are attached to the leather, the center bearing a large 'X' and you have no idea what it might mean, but it is... oh, you think, oh yes, because you can already almost taste it, something ruthless and savage, the atmosphere rich with it.

You breathe in, and here you are, in a room, the belt glistening quietly in the dim light, as if welcoming you home. You glance down at yourself, finding you're covered by a sleek black dress shot through with gold thread, and your body might be smaller than you remember, but then your human appearance always does take some getting used to.

There's a man standing there, and he doesn't seem in any way surprised to see you, which is, you think, unusual. You study him: head cleanly shaved, a full beard flecked with gray, and an upper body that is sculpted with muscle.

"Goldie," he says, as if he knows who you are, the word exhaled on a fervent, reverent breath, his pale eyes lit up like they're on fire.

"That's not my name," you inform him, your voice careful.

"It's what I call you," he says.

"Oh," you reply, not caring to contradict him, because you're aware it will be far easier to simply let him think he understands rather than try to explain.

"I knew," he says. "I knew."

"What?" you ask, curious.

"That you were real," he tells you.

"I am real," you agree, and he smiles at you.

"Oh, Goldie," he says. "Oh, baby, I've been waiting for you, I knew you'd come to me." He takes a step towards you, then another, and his hands are on your shoulders, sliding down over your bared arms, skimming across your skin with a touch so light you shiver. You look up at him, waiting to see what he’ll do, and what he does is kiss you, unexpectedly soft and gentle, his mouth closed, but you can tell he wants more, that he's very, very consciously restraining himself.

Which is so delightfully naive you almost want to laugh, but it serves your purpose, because there are rules (archaic and useless rules, in your eternally humble opinion) about these kinds of interactions, and you're obliged to warn him before you can go any further. "You know," you say, "that I'm not human? You understand that?"

"I don't care what you are," he says, shaking his head impatiently. "The only thing that matters is you're mine."

"I am," you tell him, though you're not. You're not anyone's.

"And you look pretty human to me." He smiles, pressing another kiss to your lips, brief and hungry, before he moves away. "You taste human," he says, and you can hear the want in his voice as he moves in to kiss you again, and this time your mouth opens to his, not holding back, his tongue hot against yours, your body awakening as he begins to touch you, his hands roaming over you as if exploring, mapping every edge, every curve.

There's a bed in the room, and he lowers you back down onto it, kneeling up over you, watching with increasing delight as you shimmy out of your dress. It would appear you're not wearing any underwear, and he stares down at your naked form, eyes heated with desire. You can feel it, his need, sharp in the air around you, and you drink it in, reaching up to take his hand, pulling him down on top of you. "Show me," you say. "Show me I'm yours."

He breathes in, licking your neck, his hand between your legs, and you gasp a little at the sensation, shocked at the intensity of it. It would seem this manifestation of your form is more responsive than some of the others you've inhabited, and you smile to yourself, because you know it will only be useful.

"Fuck me," you whisper, biting lightly at his ear. "Please, I need you."

He makes a helpless, desperate noise, pulling off his t-shirt, and you scrape your nails down the broad expanse of his back, careful not to break the skin, licking your lips in anticipation. He unfastens his pants with fumbling fingers, and you don't know how much longer you can wait, but then you’re moaning as he finally enters you.

You wrap your legs around him, arching up into every thrust, only wanting more and deeper, and when he comes it's with a force that you feel, washing over you, the violence of it sweet on your tongue with a flavor of something sinister.  

He lies back, still panting, the expression on his face seeming to hover somewhere between disbelief and sheer bliss, and it's nice, you think, when you don't have to work for it, because you can see he's already perfectly hooked, right where you need him to be.

You turn onto your stomach, kissing his chest, your voice low as you ask, "What do you want?" Because this is what you do: you give people what they want. If all these many years have taught you any one thing, it's that humans are an inherently self-destructive species, and that the very best way to create the disorder and darkness that feed you is to give them what they most desire. "Tell me what you want," you croon at him, letting your eyes flash black for the briefest second, but he doesn't seem to notice.

"Nothing," he says. "I have you now, I don't need anything else."

And you'd like to tell him that need and want are most definitely not the same thing, not at all, but instead you once again press your lips to his, breathing in, closing your eyes as you gently, carefully feel out the edges of his mind. There's not a whole lot there right now: serene post-coital satiation and you, or, at least, the you he thinks you are, the belt, but you go deeper, further, finding satisfyingly black-hearted arrogance and ambition, deluded vanity, a raw hunger for power.

And there's another man there, with dark, short hair and a trimmed beard and a troubled, conflicted countenance. You see him, and he looks back at you, mouthing words that you can't hear, but you don't need to, because you understand.

"Johnny," you say as you open your eyes. "You want Johnny back."

Your man, the bald man, frowns at you, just for a second, but then a smile spreads over his face, slow and wide. "You do know me, don't you, baby?"

"Of course," you say, sitting up beside him, trying to contain your excitement. "I can help you, I can help him see that he needs you."

"You can?"

"I can."

"Because I don't want it to be like it was before, I want him to join me."

"No," you tell him, "not like before. The two of you..." You smile, because, even now, you can sense what they would be together, what they could do. "You could reign over them all, you could have everything."

"Yeah," he agrees, greed thick in his voice, and you want to kiss him, drink it in, but you hold yourself back.

"May I go to him?" you ask, quietly.

"Now?"

"Yes, now." You trail your fingers over the defined ridges of his abdomen, hoping to distract him. "We should get started."

"No," he replies, as if panicked at the thought. "No, I don't want you to leave me."

"I'll come back," you tell him. You bend, placing your hands either side of his face, kissing his forehead, the bridge of his nose, lips pressed lightly under each eye, along the edge of his beard. "I belong to you, remember? Where else would I go?"

"You promise?" he says, eyes clouded yet still pale as fire. "I need you, Goldie."

"I know," you answer. "Let me take care of this for you."

He hesitates, but then nods, and you exhale, slowly, feeling the world shift around you.

You're in another room, and the man, Johnny, you think, is lying in a bed, sleeping, breathing deeply, though his expression would indicate it's not an in any way peaceful slumber.

You stare down at him, but there's something nagging at you, someone else's presence, so you wander down the hall, letting it draw you. A different bedroom, and there's a woman asleep there, fine-featured, angelic blonde hair tumbling in loose curls down her back. She's on her side, curled in on herself, her body deceptively small, because it's quite clear her size belies a strength that impresses even you.

There's a rift between them, that much is clear, the tension of it lingering in the atmosphere; shouted words and bitter silences, the air tasting of discontent. And yet, despite that, you can still sense her determined steadfastness, the love she has for the man in the other room, how pure and selfless it is, and you curl your lip in a sneer of disgust, walking away.

Johnny is still sleeping, and you sit down beside him on the bed, reaching out to lay your hand on his head, stroking your fingers through his hair. He murmurs something unintelligible, the words indistinct, and you wonder if he feels you creeping into his mind, your consciousness so very delicately entering into his.

And confusion is what you find there, a man at odds with himself, unable to reconcile his own actions with what he believes, what he knows to be right. He's changed, you can see that, and perhaps only recently, the traces of his former goodness still polluting his thoughts, but there's most definitely potential, and that's all you need.

You whisper to yourself, your palm resting across his forehead, sowing seeds in his mind; ideas that will bear fruit and blossom. There are threads you knit together, strengthen, coaxing the darkness out of hidden places with gentle, teasing touches, and when you're done, you sit back, admiring your handiwork yet also aware this is just the beginning.

But it's enough for one night, and before you go, you kiss him, resting your lips full against his. His mouth twitches lightly in response, and you smile. "Sweet dreams, Johnny," you murmur, and then you're gone.

Back to the belt, and to the other man, whose name, you suddenly realize, you don't even know, and he's pacing up and down his own room like a tiger locked in a cage, stress emanating off him in great, crashing waves. "Goldie," he says, as soon as he sees you, ferocious in his relief as he grabs you, pulling you into a fevered embrace, holding you tight against him.

"I'm here," you tell him. "I said I'd come back."

"I didn't think you'd be gone so long."

"Was it long?" you ask, genuinely not knowing.

"Hours," he says, "you were gone hours."

And hours doesn't seem worthy of complaint to you, but you pull back enough that you can look up at him and say, "I'm sorry, I didn't realize."

"You're here now," he tells you. "Is he..." The question trails off, as if he isn't sure how to ask it. "Is it done?"

"It's started," you say, keeping the scorn out of your voice, that he thinks it's so simple. "If you want it to last, if you want it to be real, then it takes a little time."

"I can wait," he replies, nodding, and, frankly, you doubt that, but you don't argue the point.

Instead, you lower your eyes, submissive, and say, deliberately hesitant, "I wanted to ask... what..." You swallow, as if nervous. "What should I call you?"

"Tommaso," he answers, like it's obvious.

You tilt your head to one side, considering, because that doesn't exactly roll off the tongue. "No," you say, and you've seen enough of his desires to know what he wouldn't ever dare request of you. You smile at him, blithely innocent. "I think that I'd like to call you Master."

He breathes in, sharp and quick, and yes, you think, because that's hit him right in the place where you're aiming.

"I'm not your..." he starts, then stops himself. "I'm not that."

"But you are," you tell him, lies slipping off your tongue like honey. "You made me, you brought me into being." And after all, you think, that's not entirely untrue. "You created me."

Heat and lust are practically radiating off him, and you can feel an answering stirring within your own body, restlessly impatient. You glance down, looking back up at him through your eyelashes, pouting, biting down on your bottom lip as you whisper, "Goldie only wants to please her master."

He doesn't say anything, and you wait, counting out the beats in your head until he lunges for you, grabs you, throwing you roughly back down onto the bed, looming above you, his knee between your legs, shoving them apart. Your wrists are pinned, his grip too tight as he releases one for just long enough to take hold of his cock, lining himself up to push inside you with desperate hiss of breath. He's strong, at least for a human, and you allow yourself to be held down, passively compliant, letting him fuck you. You stare up at him as he comes, drinking in the impact of it, then watch as he opens his eyes to look at you.

"God," he says, his voice hoarse. "You make me crazy, Goldie." There's the faintest hint of guilt in his tone, but you're confident it's not enough that you need to be concerned.

"I like crazy," you tell him. "I want you to take me, to use me. It's what I'm here for." You kiss him, sweetly tender, and say, "You should rest now, Master."

"Oh, baby," he says, smiling at you, stroking your face. "You're going to be the death of me."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," you reply, and he only laughs, closing his eyes, pulling you in beside him, and you watch as he slowly drifts off into sleep.

A while later you slip out of his arms, careful, and he shifts, muttering something under his breath. You stand, waiting to see if he'll wake, but he only rolls over, breathing in.

You leave him be, spending a little time wandering around his house, curious if there's any knowledge you can glean that may be of use to you, but the place is mostly fairly impersonal, uninteresting. There’s only one object that calls to you, a framed photograph that’s tucked away in a drawer, under a pile of papers. It's of Tommaso and Johnny and the blonde woman, all laughing, so happy you barely recognize their faces. The woman is in a white dress, the two men in suits, and you note that Tommaso's gaze is focused entirely on the other man, sunlight reflected bright in his eyes. You lay your hand on the glass surface that covers the image and feel a sharp, distant layer of regret, hanging over it, unresolved.

But you set the picture back in its hiding place, returning to the bedroom, stretching your arms over your head, leaning to crack the bones in your neck. Tommaso's snoring quietly, and the belt's neatly folded on the nightstand, propped up so the plates are on display. You trace one finger over the center of the 'X', letting yourself fall into it, back into your own realm.

It's dark, and peaceful, and it's a relief not to have to maintain the appearance of being human, even for a brief time. The belt allows you to see the other world, where Tommaso is still sleeping, and so you seat yourself, folding your legs underneath you, settling until you're comfortable, and then wait.

The moment he wakes, you're instantly aware, watching as he reaches out, feeling the empty space next to him, opening his eyes. "Goldie?" he calls, tentative, and then louder, "Goldie?"

"I'm here," you say, back with him, letting out your breath.

"Where did you go?" he asks, rubbing at his eyes, frowning as he sits up, the sheets pooled loose across his waist.

"Here," you answer, tapping the belt. "I'll always be in here." And 'in' is, of course, not the right word, but experience has taught you that it's what's easiest for humans to comprehend. "I can go back whenever I need to," you explain, "but if you tell me to go back, then I have to." You take his hand, lifting it to your lips, kissing along his knuckles. "And I can only come out if you call to me."

"Just me?" he asks, the fingers of his other hand caressing down your forearm. "No one else?"

"No one else."

"Okay." He nods, as if that’s acceptable to him. "But I have to go out today, I have to train."

"I can stay here," you say. "Or I can go back in there." You gesture at the belt. "You can take me with you."

He smiles at you. "I'd like that," he says.

And so the day passes, with you disinterestedly observing the mundanities of current human existence: the gym, a meeting of some kind, several monotonous spells of sitting in traffic, ending with a trip to the grocery store. It's all so trivial you feel you might expire from boredom, but you know you need to be patient.

And then, at last, you're back at Tommaso's house, alone with him, and he sets the bags of food he's carrying down on the kitchen counter. He has the belt slung over his shoulder, and he says, "Goldie," confidently this time, and you're barely even in the room before he's got you bent over the table, fucking into you from behind, and today, unlike last night, he makes it last, slowing down, stopping himself every single time you can feel him about to come. You're soon whimpering with need, fretting and squirming underneath him, huffing out desperate little breaths as he thrusts into you, having to actively concentrate in order to not actually claw holes in the surface of the table. His hands are on your hips, pulling you back into him, and he's so hot inside you, and when he finally lets go, finishing himself, the energy you feel from it is so richly potent you can barely take it in.

You're still shaking as he helps you up, holding your hand like a gentleman, guiding you to a chair. You sit down, and he smiles, greedy, tongue licking wet over his lips, not saying anything.

He makes steak for dinner, and though you don't actually need food in the physical, human sense, you eat it anyway, just to make him happy. It's cooked rare, at least, and the taste of blood and flesh isn't something you ever find unpleasant.

He grins at you from across the table, and says, "You know, at some point you should probably put some clothes on."

"Why?" You smirk playfully, kneeling up on the seat of your chair so he can see more of you, gesturing at your body, and asking, "Don't you like looking at me?"

"I do." His eyes rake over you, so possessive that you feel it, the ownership in his gaze, and you shiver with pleasure.

"And anyway," you tell him,"if I wore clothes, wouldn't you just take them off?"

He laughs at that, swallowing a bite of steak, his mouth stained the faintest red. "I would," he says.

After, you curl up on the couch with him, your head resting in his lap, his fingers threading soft and absent through your hair as he watches some old fight on the television, and you don't pay attention, counting down the minutes until you can ask the question you need to. "Can I go see Johnny?" you say at last.

Tommaso looks down at you. "I don't know," he replies, clearly only half-serious. "I don't know if I should let you."

"He thinks about you," you say. "All the time. In his mind, you're there..." You sit up, facing him. "You take up a lot of space."

"Yeah?" And you can tell he's very deliberately trying to sound indifferent, like it's nothing, like he doesn't care.

"Yeah." You look at him. "Please, Master?"

He stares back at you, and for a brief moment, you think he's actually going to say no, but then he waves at you dismissively, releasing you.

Johnny's again asleep, again alone, and as soon as you see him you can sense that already, your previous evening's work is taking effect. His mind is deeper tonight, rich with possibilities, and so you're more specific, testing his limits a little. You weave in images of Tommaso, of belts and victories; a moral code that can be twisted to justify almost anything and the lasting pleasure of being proven irrefutably right. He smiles in his sleep, and you sit back, letting the thoughts settle in his head, waiting to make certain they take hold in the manner you're intending.

And in the meantime, you're curious, so you idly pull aside the bed covers, looking at his naked body. He's smaller than Tommaso, less obviously muscled, but he's strong, you can see that. His limbs retain a hint of the gangliness of youth, as if he hasn't ever quite managed to grow into himself, yet despite that, there's sturdy physicality about him, something perhaps not unbreakable but resolute enough that it might not matter.

His cock is half-hard, and that's not quite as big as Tommaso, either, but it's a good size, and you lean down, slowly running your tongue up the shaft, tasting it, sweat and the faintest trace of come. He stirs in his sleep, legs spreading wider, seemingly instinctive, and you move, making yourself comfortable as you lick him into full hardness, taking him in your mouth and sucking, lips tight around him as you move up and down.

You keep enough of a hold on his mind to be sure he won't wake, swallowing as he comes, letting it slide warm down your throat, more at one with him than is strictly necessary, but your hunger is, however briefly, satisfied, and you breathe in, contented for now.

Tommaso's lying in bed when you return, and he gives you a questioning look. "Progress," you tell him. "Definite progress." He nods, and you go on. "I don't think this will take as long as I thought."

"Good," he says. "That's good."

You sit down beside him, one leg tucked up under you. "Just so you know," you say,  because you're curious to see how he reacts, "I sucked his cock tonight."

He stares at you, silent for a minute, and there's something in his eyes that you haven't seen before. Jealousy, you think at first, but then you realize that no, that's not what it is. Not at all. "You did?" he asks.

"Yeah." You smile. "Just now, I can still taste him in my mouth."

"You swallowed?"

"Of course."

He doesn't say a word, but you can hear him breathing, and he doesn't stop you as you crawl across the bed towards him, positioning yourself over him on your hands and knees, and his eyes are wide open as you lean down to kiss him. You lap your tongue at his lips, softly persuasive, and after a moment, he opens his mouth. You feel him flinch at the taste, brief and abrupt, but then he's kissing you back with an urgency that tells you all that you need to know, his hands in your hair, pulling you in.

The next night, you fuck Johnny. He's sprawled on his back, and you're on top of him, straddling him, riding his cock, and though your control won't let him wake, you know the noises he's making, even in sleep, are too loud. You tighten yourself around him, and he moans. "Yeah, Johnny," you say, your voice theatrically breathy even as you make certain the words are clear. "Just like that."

And you feel her, before you see her. You look back over your shoulder, turning your head just a touch further than should be possible, and it's the blonde woman, staring at you, her mouth open, eyes wide with astonishment. You smile at her, consciously allowing the mask of your human form to slip away enough that your lips are too wide, showing your real teeth, sharp and curved. Your tongue flickers out, tasting her fear as you hiss, the sound reverberating in your chest as it lowers into a growl.

She jumps back a little, muttering something under her breath, but she stands her ground, doesn't run away.

And you're not interested in that kind of confrontation, so you exhale, your surroundings rearranging themselves irritatingly slowly, but then you're next to Tommaso's bed. He's asleep, but you pay no mind to that, dragging the covers down off him, spitting into your hand and taking hold of his cock, stroking it urgently, willing it into hardness. There's a rush of blood in your head, the sound of it overwhelming you, hunger growing inside you like something insatiable.

He moans, stirring as you climb up over him, grasping his cock as you sink down onto it, letting it fill you, shifting impatiently to take him deep as you can.

"What are you doing?" he asks, voice laced with sleep and confusion, and you lean forward, resting one hand beside his head, balancing yourself as you press the other across his mouth, needing to not be distracted.

"Shhh," you tell him, your hips moving on him, drawing out his orgasm, desperate for it, and he thrusts up into you. "Yeah," you say, again, and this time you mean it. "Just like that."

He licks your palm, teeth biting down into your skin as he comes, releasing himself inside you, and you close your eyes, letting out a long, slow breath, relaxing back into your body, calmer now.

"What was that?" he asks, as you climb off him, sliding down enough that you can lap up the the light sheen of sweat that covers his chest. "Are you okay?"

"Sorry." You shrug, not wanting to explain. "I needed to finish." You look up at him, and say, "I think you'll find he's ready for you now."

"Johnny?"

You nod, smiling. "He's... receptive."

"To what?"

"To you." You swirl your tongue over the broad expanse of his pec, teasing at his nipple. "I think you'll find that if you..." You pause, wanting to find the right word. "If you suggest things to him, he'll listen."

"Are you sure?"

You sigh, contented, kneeling up next to him, shaking out your hair, running your fingers through it, smoothing it away from your face. "He's open," you say, staring down at him. "But he'll need your help. You'll have to prove yourself to him."

"But he will listen?"

You're not a seer, you can't see the future, but you can catch glimpses of it, faint shadows and the ghosts of what's to come. "There'll be a cage," you tell him. "And you, like this." You extend your arms out, either side of you, raising your head to the darkened sky you know is somewhere above you, outside this room, outside this small house, vast and still and infinite.

"It's going to be beautiful, Master," you say.

"Yeah," he agrees, and when you look at him, you think you could drown yourself in his eyes, breathe him in until you're filled with him. "Yeah," he says again, "it is."

And it is, it truly is, because it all unfolds just as you saw, and you might think it's too easy but what it feels like is fate, as if this was all meant to be, and now there's only Takeover to wait for.

"I want you with me, Goldie," Tommaso says. "Backstage at Takeover."

"I'm always with you."

"No." He shakes his head. "You the person, I want you there."

You smile a little. "Aren't you worried about having to explain who I am? What will people think?"

"I don't give a shit what people think," he says, fierce, and you know that's true. He's sitting on the edge of the bed, and you're behind him, your arms around him, and he takes your hands in his, pulling you even closer. You kiss his head, his scalp freshly shaved, smooth and cool against your mouth. "What if I lose you?" he asks, his voice quiet, troubled, as if even the thought is too much for him to bear.

"You're not going to."

"But what if I did, what if something happened, would that mean you'd belong to Aleister?"

"Of course not," you assure him. You've seen the man, and frankly you can't think of a worse fate than being with a sad little pretender of that type, with his candles and tattoos, thinking he knows anything about the true black arts. "If I had to, then I'd wait. You'd win me back sooner or later."

"I would," Tommaso says. "I wouldn't stop fighting until you were with me again."

"See?" you say. "And you're going to win." You kiss him again, licking down towards his ear, biting at it as you whisper, "You're both going to win."

And so you wear the black dress, and you cling tightly to Tommaso's arm, making yourself seem as small and timid as possible, walking beside him as he stalks the maze that is the backstage area of the Takeover venue. A few people glance at you, but no one pays you any more than cursory attention.

That is, at least, until you see Johnny.

He greets Tommaso in a wary, guarded manner, nodding at him curtly before turning his attention to you, and you see it, the very moment he recognizes you, his eyes widening in sudden shock. "You," he says, slowly. "It's you." He shakes his head, as if he's sure he must be imagining things. "I dreamed about you, I..."

"This is Goldie," Tommaso says proudly.

"Nice to meet you, Johnny," you say, holding out your hand, but he only stands there, staring at you, as if frozen in place.

"Johnny," someone calls out. "We need you for a run-through of your entrance."

He doesn't move, not until you say, "Shouldn't you go?," and he turns without a word, striding away, looking back over his shoulder at you as Tommaso laughs, low in his throat.

You slip back into the belt for the actual fight, watching from the sidelines, muttering incantations to yourself as you focus, directing your energy towards Tommaso, the strength of it quietly, potently dark. He fights as if he's invincible, and you can tell that he feels it, feels you, knows you're with him in every moment of it.

When it's all done, he stands on the stage, clutching you to his chest, triumphant in victory, the crowd's displeasure at the result rich and bitter as it surrounds you. But then you startle as a sudden sharp pulse rocks through you, the surge of it quickening in your blood, and it's Johnny, joining you to stand next to Tommaso, raising his own belt, tentative at first, but then with increasing confidence and certainty.

And oh yes, you think to yourself, because together these two can do anything, they can rule the world if that's what they choose and you'll be right there, whispering in their ears, giving them exactly what they want.

You barely even notice as the Velveteen Dream's music starts up, and the skirmish that follows is both petty and predictable, but you pay no mind to that, waiting as Johnny and Tommaso are hustled away, ushered into a room, told to stay there and then left alone.

They look at each other, electricity crackling like raw chemistry between them, and you stir restlessly, needing to be released, hunger building inside you.

"Goldie," Tommaso calls to you. "You can come out now."

"What the fuck, man, she's not here..." Johnny starts, and his expression of complete and total surprise as he sees you appear really is quite intensely gratifying.

"I am here," you tell him.

"You really are... her," he says, in disbelief. "You're the belt."

"I'm so much more than that, Johnny," you reply, standing up straighter, shoulders back, your spine itching to lengthen itself, but you stay in control. "And now you have a belt too," you say, and you can already feel it, the power of it, hanging weighted in the air.

Tommaso's behind you, his hands on your shoulders as he kisses the back of your neck. "I think Johnny needs to be rewarded for his victory, Goldie, don't you?"

"I think so," you agree, letting him push you down onto your knees. You look up at Johnny, and say, "Put the belt on for me."

"I..." he starts, gazing down at you helplessly.

"I've got you," Tommaso tells him, picking up the belt, moving to stand at Johnny's back, looping the thick leather around his body, centering the main plate over his abs, fastening it tight enough that it sits a little high on his waist, just above his cock. You pull down his trunks, seeing that he's already hard, and you make a small, delighted noise at the sight of him.

"Fuck," he whispers, and you suck him into your mouth, sighing at the taste. When you glance up you can see Tommaso, watching you from over Johnny's shoulder, eyes alight, utterly captivated and there's power inside you, growing and growing, like nothing you've ever felt before. You lay your hand on the belt, hissing at the rush that sparks through you as you go down all the way, Johnny's cock thick in the back of your throat.

You breathe in, and you don't stop.