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ellecdc · 9 months ago

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Things You Can Say in a Swim Lesson & Also in Bed

meet cute/ugly - swim instructor!marauders + fem!reader

find part two here!

CW: learning to swim/fear of drowning, sexual innuendos, swearing (you know what to expect from me by now)

You were excited. Really, you were.

Your best friend in the entire world was getting married, and she wanted to be married in the Maldives. So, that’s where you were going.

It didn’t matter if you might need to take out a small loan to afford the trip and time off, and it doesn’t matter that all of the events happening before the event were just as expensive.

This was your best friend, dammit! And you were happy for her.

There was only one problem.

You can’t swim.

But that was going to change today! Or...at least in the next few weeks starting today because you were officially taking swimming lessons.

You were not going to fly to the most beautiful beaches and islands in the world and be the fall risk on bridges, docks, and boats. And for fuck’s sake, you were going to swim with the dolphins whether it killed you (literally) or not.

So, you signed up to take swimming lessons. You felt ridiculous.

You felt even more ridiculous as you stood in the changeroom of a very posh country club that your best friend’s fiancé’s parents own, in a one-piece swimsuit you bought just for these lessons (the only swimsuit’s you owned her two pieces because their main use was for tanning).

You tried to find the most modest swimsuit you could, which was very difficult and still not quite as modest as you’d like because for fuck’s sake why won’t the bum cover your entire arse cheek!?

The people leaving behind you were all middle-aged to senior couples who obviously worked in ‘the business’ whatever the fuck that meant because they can clearly afford the membership fees this place obviously charges per month if their gold and crystal chandeliers in the bathroom stalls meant anything.

You tried to readjust your poor swimsuit one last time before grabbing your towel and making your way to the pool. You just hoped you didn’t flash your tits to the other children likely attending swimming lessons.

Except...you got to the pool and there was no one else there.

Well, that’s not entirely true. There was one sexy looking lifeguard covered in various tattoos which stood out brilliantly against his fair skin. His black hair rivaled the ink of his tattoos and was long enough to be pulled back into a messy bun behind his head – though a few stray locks seemed determined to keep their place next to his sharp jawline.

You were jealous of strands of hair.

There was also another lifeguard on the other end of the pool putting away various life rings, flutter boards and lane dividers. He was just as striking as the first lifeguard for nearly opposite reasons. His skin was a deep tan colour, and he wasn’t built like a swimmer – rather, he was built quite like a body builder. His arms and torso were lined with hard defined muscle and his thighs...

For fuck’s sake, stop staring at the man’s thighs.

He had a mop of curly dark hair and a pair of glasses that seemed foggy with the humidity of the room; he seemed no less happy about his current surroundings because of it, however.

You awkwardly looked behind you into the changeroom to see if the rest of your class was coming out. Maybe you should text your friend? Ask her to confirm with her fiancé that you got the times right?

“Here for the swim lessons, love?” a deep, lilting voice startled you from your pondering.

You turned towards the voice and were accosted by the view of a third beautiful man.

Is it, like, a requirement to be hot as hell to work here!?

The man had honey blonde curls and eyes to match that screamed trouble, but the kind of trouble you’d far too willingly find yourself immersed in. Unlike his tanned, spectacled friend, this man was built like a swimmer; he was all long limbs and long muscles, and unfairly tall. You forgot how to speak.

“I’m Remus, I’ll be the instructor tonight. What’s your name?” He asked you like he didn’t have it in front of him on his damp clipboard.

You cleared your throat and offered it to him, and he smiled at your shyness. The smile pulled at a scar that ran through the right side of his lip, and you noticed that he had a few more scattered across his face. They didn’t make him any less handsome, however. Damn him.

“Alright, Y/N. What has motivated you to learn to swim?”

You furrowed your brows at him and looked behind yourself again. “Shouldn’t we wait for the rest of the class?”

His smile faltered as his brows furrowed to match yours. “Class?”

“Private lessons, Dollface.” The tattooed man drawled as he made his way over to you.

“You’ve got the pool to yourself tonight.” He added with a wink.

“This is a private class.” Remus clarified.

“Jesus Christ.” You muttered. You were startled by a bark of a laugh from the tattooed man and immediately flushed to realize you’d said that out loud.

“How did you not know you booked a private class?” Remus asked with a bemused smile.

You sighed, face feeling like it was about to melt off from sheer embarrassment. “I didn’t book it. My uhm, my friend’s fiancé’s family owns this place and said he’d set it up for me. I thought it was going to be a group thing.”

You felt awfully foolish as the two men nodded. “What made you want to learn?” Remus asked again.

“Uhm, that same friend – her wedding is this spring, and it’s a destination wedding.” But the tattooed man started nodding before you’d even finished.

“You wanna swim with the fishes, but not in the mobster way. Got it.” He said as he clapped his hands together.

“Sirius.” Remus gently chided the man. “That’s fair, well, you’ve given yourself a lot of time to learn. I figured we’d start by finding out how much you already know.”

You grimaced.

“Well, that’ll be easy, seeing as I know nothing.”

“Nothing?” Remus asked.

“Nothing.” You confirmed.

Sirius and Remus shared a glance before turning back to you with matching smiles.

“Let’s get started, shall we?”

“Prongs! We got a firstie!” The tattooed man – Sirius – shouted to the tanned man across the pool as he confidently made his way to the edge of the pool. You opted to skirt around the edge – widely.

The tanned man gasped (far more dramatically than you felt the situation called for) and immediately dropped everything that had been in his arms.

“No.” He bellowed. “Can I help?!”

Great, now you were going to be inhaling pool water whilst three of the hottest men on earth watched – no big deal.

“That’s up to our swimmer.” Remus said as he looked towards you for an answer.

“I’d relax on the use of that title until you see me in the water.” You muttered.

Sirius barked another laugh, which made the corners of your mouth lift in comradery. He had a way of making you feel funnier than you likely were, just by enjoying your banter.

“What do you think? Me and James here can be the rest of the class you thought you would be a part of.” He offered with a smirk.

“Class?” James asked, “I thought this was a private session.”

“It is.” Remus answered with a slight edge, clearly used to the other two men getting off topic. “She had the lessons booked for her – she didn’t realize.”

“Gotcha” James said with a clap of his hands. “Okay, I’m all caught up, lets swim!” and with that, he jumped sideways and made a large splash as he landed in the water.

“You’re welcome to use the stairs like a civilized person.” Remus said to you kindly as Sirius cannonballed himself into the pool behind him. Upon hearing the splash, Remus closed his eyes in exasperation.

You took his advice and used the stairs, wading into the pool until the water hit around your waist.

“So, you’ve never been in a pool before?” Remus asked as he placed his clipboard on a flutter board and mindlessly sent it sailing to Sirius.

“No, not like this.”

“Okay. Do you know how to float?” He continued

You shook your head and looked down to the water.

“That’s alright. That’s perfect, that’s where we’ll start, alright?” He offered you, bending to try and catch your eyes. He was smiling kindly at you and his eyes oozed empathy.

“Here, Jamie and Sirius will demonstrate what we’ll do.”

Without a second though, James threw himself onto his back and brought his feet up, so he was floating on top of the water in a star-fished position.

Sirius smiled down at him like he was the sun and placed his arm just below him to ‘support his weight’ – though you were well aware that part was just for show.

“Now, we’ll do it right here where you are now; you can touch the bottom, so even if you feel like you’re going to sink, you can just stand up.” Remus encouraged you.

Your heart fell at the ‘sink’ part.

“You also have three certified lifeguards here.” James offered sympathetically.

Yeah, three real Adonis’ here to watch me drown.

“Nothing will happen, love.” Sirius offered in the softest tone you’ve heard him speak since you met him, apparently your trepidation made itself known on your face.

“I’ll help you get into position, okay? Lean back... atta girl, just like that.” Remus coached you as he supported your back, and one of the other men grabbed your ankles to ease them up. The hands near your feet surprised you and you breathed in a gasp, which was mistaken for anxiety.

“Hey, you’re alright, okay?” Remus said as he paused all movements, “I will not let anything happen to you.”

Jesus Christ, he was going to put you into cardiac arrest.

“Okay.” You offered instead of swearing at him and continued to lean back with his support.

Suddenly, you were suspended above the water as the hands (apparently, they were James’) let go of your ankles. Your instinct was to start kicking and tense up.

“No, you’re alright, keep your legs up and relax.” Sirius coached you from your other side.

Things you can say in a swim lesson and also in bed.

“I’ve still got you.” Remus reminded you as you tried to do what you were told.

Your legs kept wanting to sink to the bottom, but you did your best to will them upward.

“Try to take in a breath – the more air you have in your chest, the more buoyant you’ll be.” Remus told you.

You did as you were told, and your ears sunk just below the water.

“You can keep breathing, dollface.” Sirius said, and you felt your cheeks flush as you let out the breath you were apparently holding.

You listened to the sound of the water lapping against your head and the edge of the pool and timed seemed to slow.

This was actually quite nice – floating. You like floating, you decide. You’d like to do more of it; maybe this will be how you would spend your time at the beach in the Maldives and oh my god where is he going get back here you son of a bitch.

Remus’ hand began to sneak away from you, and in your panic to correct yourself without his assistance, you overcompensated and ended up below the water line.

Gentle hands grabbed your forearms and hauled you above the surface again and you made terribly embarrassing choking and gasping sounds as you wrapped your arms and legs around the being like a newborn koala bear.

“Easy, easy. Hey, you’re okay! You almost had it! You did so well, look at you.” James said brightly as he pushed some of your wet hair away from your face with careful fingers, apparently unaffected by your attaching yourself to him.

Between the men, their flustering you, and the water up your nose – you decided you’ll just spend your vacation at the beach side bar.

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jimvasta · 2 years ago

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Humans and technology

You see, humans don't interact with the universe the way most other species do.

We thought they would be elegant as the Borath from the design of their vessels, thoughtful as Saalax from the care of their grreting broadcasts, calm as J'lanyua from the precise manner of their docking.

We were in for a shock. For all the collective order and discipline, there is a chaos inherent to individuals and should one succumb to it the chances they will take others with them are high.

We learned quickly to not underestimate these contradictory bipeds, but not before they shocked us rigid with their grasp of high technology.

They don't even have Dulchan drives but they stepped into one of the ancient platforms and immediately identified features we never discerned. The space platforms are thousands of rotations older than our space travels, the original builders are long gone and until the humans came we had to simply trust the computers would not fail and we would remain protected.

It took a lot of persuasion to let them near the computer cores, even when they begged to see them close up, but eventually we relented. What was the harm? No one understood them, no one could even unlock them.

They made many strange noises of appreciation, as most who see the ancient technology do. Their commander grew bored "Not a nerd like them," he grumbled, so we went back to the main habitation area.

A sleep cycle later, we ventured back to find the nerds.

"Well? Got any ideas?" The Commander asked.

"Ideas?" Charlie let out a shocking noise that made my feathers quiver, a laugh. "Spade's already got it running Doom."

#humans are space orcs #Doom #Doom will run on anything #space australia

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mariacallous · 4 months ago

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I’m not even sure whether I can taste pure Old Bay anymore, because the condiment is infused with so many memories of home. I grew up sprinkling it on everything—blue crabs, sure, but also watermelon, mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese—and I can shuffle through decades of pictures from family reunions, county fairs, church picnics, and back porches where the iconic yellow, red, and blue tins keep popping up like someone’s second cousin, not quite front and center yet always in the frame.

If you’re new to Old Bay, get a tin and shake the contents liberally on popcorn or potato chips—a starter dish, from which you can and should expand. You’ll soon find that you can add the condiment to almost anything. One of my favorite dishes that uses Old Bay as an essential ingredient comes via an old family friend. Keith Davis is a Jack-of-all-trades: a fantastic general contractor, but also a church usher, a builder of wheelchair ramps, a Santa Claus when seasonally necessary, and, lately, a food-truck entrepreneur, grilling burgers and deep-frying funnel cakes for every community event and private party in the area. He goes by Mr. Keith; his food truck is known as Fat Boy’s Fixins, named in honor of the man who taught him to grill and whose Santa suit he inherited.

Of all the things Davis serves up, he might be best known for his crab soup, which he makes in ten-gallon batches and lets the local Ruritan Club sell by the pint every fall at the Waterfowl Festival, when somewhere between fourteen thousand and twenty thousand people descend on the Eastern Shore to see the work of hundreds of decoy carvers and local artists, listen to waterfowl-calling contests, and watch demonstrations of dock dogs, raptors, and fly-fishing. Davis is there every year, gossiping with his fellow-volunteers, talking with out-of-towners, and tossing hunks of crab meat into stew pots. Normally you’d have to shell out eight dollars for even just a cup, but here, exclusively for newsletter readers, free of charge, is the best crab soup you’ll ever taste, a shockingly easy, practically pre-made recipe for trying out America’s greatest condiment: Old Bay.

Mr. Keith’s Crab Soup

1 lb. crab meat (claw meat best) 64-Oz. bottle of Spicy V8 14.5 Oz. chicken broth 32 Oz. water 1 lb. mixed vegetables 1 Tbsp. Montreal Steak seasoning 1 Tbsp. Old Bay

Mix the V8, chicken broth, and water in a pot. Start heating the mixture, then add the vegetables, then the crab meat, and finally the spices. Cook on medium heat until the vegetables start to soften, stirring occasionally “so it doesn’t stick and burn on the bottom of the pot.”

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n3on-graveston3s-calling · 1 year ago

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Dinner & Diatribes

Series: Think I Need Someone Older

Word Count: 4,840

Rating: E

Characters: Dracule Mihawk, Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut. Pure smut. Mihawk is on his knees for you and he is hungry.

Tags: Smut, cunnilingus, eating out, squirting, fingering, Mihawk being a tease, cannibalism as an allegory for love and/or sex

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

The island was larger than you had initially thought. With how Dracule had explained it, the picture you’d painted in your mind was something more akin to Windmill Village. But this- oh, this towering city floating in the middle of the sea was everything and more. Canals that traced through each level, making essential roads that yagura-led -gondolas wound through. Water 7, the legendary floating city full of shipwrights, pirates, and civilians alike. One of the very few places without a strong Marine presence- a relief for you.

The two of you had met a few years prior. One thing led to another, which led to a room in an inn, which led to you sobbing and begging for him to not stop. Now, anytime the two of you having been in the same place at the same time, hitching a ride hadn’t been much of an issue. A break from your own crew for a “date night” as your First Mate had put it, much to your annoyance.

��Here,” Dracule murmured, reaching a hand down to grasp your own, helping you step down onto the dock. The sound of laughter and yelling drew your attention away, gaze trailing over the shipwrights and dock yards. You’d heard stories of Water 7, but had never found a reason to seek out the aid of the legendary builders. Yet here you were; as he led you away from the ship, you found yourself distracted by the large galleons that were being built, repaired, or setting sail on their maiden voyages.

“This is… Wow,” you breathed out a laugh, shaking your head at the craftsmanship. “Now that I’m here, I can only picture what’s wrong with my own ship,” not necessarily a joke, though your tone made it sound as such. Dracule hummed as he dropped your hand, his own gaze sharp.

A target on the back- one for each of you separately, and a much larger one for you two to be spotted together. But who would dare encroach upon Dracule Mihawk? Haughty swordsmen who thought themselves better than the Greatest, that was who. Luckily, it seemed that reputation did matter in Water 7, as the two of you were given a large berth. “I’ve business I need to attend to before our dinner,” his voice drew you from your thoughts; you glanced up, meeting the keen golden eyes of your not so secret lover. “The hotel I’ve booked is two tiers up. Take the yagura to this address,” always demanding, he placed a slip of paper into your grasp. “I’ll be there soon.”

“What, no time to stroll along with me?” You teased, stepping closer. He tensed, but didn’t push you away- no, rather, he drew you even closer with a hand upon your waist, pulling you flush to his own form.

“If I remained with you, I would get nothing done.” He leaned down, lips brushing against your own in a ghost of a kiss. “And I would much rather save that for after our dinner.” A nip of his teeth against your lip had you gasping before he pulled away, adjusting his hat. He turned sharply on his heel and ducked down an alleyway- and within moments, you lost sight of him.

Not even a goodbye.

With a sigh, you turned to flag down a yagura to ride on. While you wanted to spend time exploring the city- the knowledge of what this night could bring was sitting at the forefront of your mind, making you adjust your skirt to cross your thighs a touch tighter. Even so, you did enjoy the sights you were able to see: a grand water fountain, plenty of storefronts that looked promising, restaurants that you were certain were above your normal indulgence range.

It wasn’t long before the yagura- a sweet thing that had more spots than you’d ever seen on one- pulled up to the front of a large hotel. Nearly four floors tall, you felt your heart stop as you looked at the people coming and going from it. You were almost- no, you WERE certain- some of these people were famous. With their clothing, the way they had their own security detail- oh, Mihawk, what did you do? You stepped from the yagura onto the sidewalk and reached over to offer it a gentle pet on the snout before turning towards the front. The door was covered with a black awning- and had a red carpet leading beyond golden doors. The outside architecture was elegant- older, speaking back to a time before you had been born, but beautifully attended to.

You felt under dressed. Clenching your jaw, you made your way inside, ignoring the sideways glances sent your way as you approached the front desk. “I have a room.” You stated with confidence, chin raised, gaze level with the man behind the desk.

“Name?”

“It should be beneath Mihawk.”

“You-… You are his guest, I presume?” Stumbling over his words for a moment, the concierge leaned down to procure a golden key with the room number etched onto the body. “You will be staying on the top floor. The Garnet Suite.” He rushed to explain, gesturing to someone behind you to take your bag from your shoulder. “Please- let us know if there is anything- anything- you desire.”

“Thank you.” You glanced to the bellhop curiously- a petite woman whose eyes were wide in awe as she followed you to the elevator. “How long have you worked here?” You asked as she rang the elevator.

“Only a few months,” she answered quietly, her cheeks rosy. “Sure must be important to be… His guest.”

“You think so?” You teased, watching the way her mouth opened and closed a few times before she bobbed her head quickly, dirty blonde hair swaying with the movement. “I think you’re right. I mean- if you can keep a secret?”

“I can!”

“He isn’t the only one with a large bounty on his head.” You winked as you stepped into the elevator. She followed after with an expression reading of awe. It took her a moment to close the door and to select the floor- but that was alright. “You aren’t used to pirates, yet?”

“No, ma’am. I’m still… This is all new to me. I’m not even from here! I just- I wanted to see more of the world, and Water 7 is the social hub!”

“Where are you from?”

“The North Blue, ma’am.”

“You certainly are a long way from home, then!” You couldn’t help but smile fondly; she was sweet, this bellhop. She still had a lot to learn, certainly, but she would do well. “What’s your name?”

“Liliana, ma’am.”

“Well, Liliana- I think I can handle it from here. But thank you for helping me,” you opened the coin purse that hung from your hip, fishing out a few berries that had her eyes widening even further, if that were possible. “For your trouble.”

“Oh, thank you!” Her grin was bright as you stepped out into the hall. “Thank you very much!” She reached out to grasp the door, shutting it once more. Turning, you made your way to the room; plaques hung beside each door with the name of the room.

Ruby, spinel, jasper… Ah, garnet. They must separate floors by the colors of gemstones, you thought to yourself as you unlocked the door. Stepping in, you had to pause to take in the sight. It was breathtaking; a large balcony separated by twin glass doors, covered with semi-sheer, off-white curtains. The bed was a four poster with black sheets; golden detailing was etched into the wood, but that wasn’t even the show stopper. No, it was the rest of the room. The walls were painted a rich garnet tone with ivory pillars set into the walls with decorative filigree carved into both stone and wood. As your head turned, you realized with a flush that it was one large room- the claw foot tub sat across from the bed, a shower tucked into the corner. Twin sinks were posed on either side, though a large mirror ran across the length, framed by gold.

How much had Dracule paid for this room alone? You were almost afraid to ask.

Closing the door behind yourself, the lock clicked into place. You set your bag down at the foot of the bed and crossed over to the large mahogany wardrobe, opening it, only to find that no, it wasn’t empty. A garment bag hung with a note scrawled in Mihawk’s hasty handwriting:

“Wear this for dinner.”

Curiosity piqued, you unzipped the bag and slipped the cloth off to reveal a stunning gown of ruby, silken in it’s make. Your size, you noted; draped collar with thin straps, the back plunging and crisscrossed with thin straps you knew were only there for decoration. A slit clear to what would be mid-thigh, too-

“Sweet Aphrodite, Mihawk.” You hissed, shaking your head as you turned away. Now it made sense, why he’d asked you to bring heels. Well, in the meantime- freshening up would be nice. You strolled over to the bath, fingers trailing along the ivory lip of the tub. This close to the mirror, you noticed that it gave a perfect view of the bed. Your lips curled in a mischievous smirk as you turned the tab on the tub. A glance to the left to the windows that offered a lovely view of the sky. No one could see in.

Perfect.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Someone had come to retrieve you- one of the waitstaff for the hotel. You’d had enough time to bathe, apply makeup, and dress before the man had arrived. The dress was, indeed, your size- clinging to your form in a way that could almost be considered sinful. The ruby tone caught the light regardless of which way you turned. You’d paired your lips with the dress, the red stark against your skin. As you entered the restaurant attached to the hotel, you felt eyes turn to take you in.

In that moment, you felt like the most important woman in the world. Your lips curved into a slow smile as you spotted your date, who was slowly rising to his feet. He’d forgone his normal wardrobe, though Yoru was leaning against the wall behind him. His own suit was black, tailored to fit him. “This was a pleasant surprise,” you greeted as he reached out, taking your hand in his.

He leaned in, brushing a kiss against your cheek. “You look delicious,” he murmured in your ear before pulling back to pull your chair out for you. A shudder threatened to dance across your skin as you settled down into the chair. Somewhere in the restaurant, a piano played live. “I hope the room met your expectations.”

“Met and exceeded,” you replied with a shake of your head. “This was too much- all of this-”

“Nonsense.” He waved a hand through the air as if to dispel your words. “For you? It’s worth it. I hope you don’t mind, I ordered wine for the table.”

“Perfect.” A vintage red, perfect to pair with dinner. As you glanced over the menu, you tried to ignore the prices listed. Expensive tastes; of course he’d have expensive taste. “You seem familiar with the island. How often have you visited?”

“A few times.” The dismissive tone had you rolling your eyes as the waiter approached. You gave your order- a pasta dish with white sauce paired with a side salad. Mihawk ordered a steak- medium rare, some sort of a pasta dish you weren’t familiar with, and informed the man that the desert would be to-go. You raised your brow at that, head tilting to study him. “To go?”

“Mhm.” He hummed as he sipped on his wine, gaze trailing along your bare arms, settling on your collarbones for a moment. He was right; the dress had been the perfect choice for you. “I don’t intend to linger here longer than necessary.” The hotel was perfect, one he was more than familiar with. He only hoped it was up to your expectations. “Why?”

“Just curious.” Your gaze slipped away, cheeks flushing under the intense stare. Your legs crossed under the table, thighs pressing closer to offer some relief to the pressure you felt beginning to build. “Did you finish whatever business you had?”

He nodded before settling his chin upon his palm. The hat was still on his head, hiding his features from most everyone at the restaurant- aside from yourself. “I did. Some repairs that I required to be finished tonight before we left in the morning.”

“A shame we have to leave so soon. This truly is a beautiful city…” You sighed, lip jutting out in a pout.

Across from you, Mihawk chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ve business to attend to after we finish here, you know that.”

“Some big meeting with the World Government, I’m aware. Tell me, what is so pressing?” No news had broken yet, but there were tensions that had certainly gotten the seas astir. “Or is that some secret you’d have to kill me for?”

“You know the answer to that, darling.” Mihawk purred, leaning back in his chair, a small smirk curving the corners of his lips upwards. He watched you squirm in your seat, affected by the threat and the rumble of his tone. Your fingers drummed upon the top of the table, a telltale giveaway of how much you were anticipating the events that would follow this dinner, much to his delight. “How did you like the room?”

“Oh!” Your attention returned fully, gaze sparkling as you gestured vaguely. “It’s stunning! The latticework was so intricate- and the filigree? Oh, Dracule, you outdid yourself this time. And don’t get me started on the way the room is set up? That four poster is simply to die for! And the bathtub? It was big enough that I couldn’t touch the other end- a perfect soaking tub.”

“So you enjoyed it?”

“Oh, certainly. The balcony is a fun touch. I had the doors open while I bathed to get that warm sea breeze…” You trailed off, worrying your lip for a moment before releasing it. “The mirror is interesting. Such a perfect angle for the bed…”

“So you noticed.”

“That hotel used to be a brothel, didn’t it?”

“Perhaps, once, many years ago. It no longer serves that purpose.”

“Tell me, Dracule- am I just a high priced whore to warm your bed?” You teased, foot settling on the inside of his calf. Slowly, you drug it up the inside of his leg, watching the way he tensed, the way his gaze darkened. “Someone who can take care of you? Take away all of those stressors-”

“The highest.” He interrupted, sitting up straighter as his gaze shifted to over your shoulder. Food. You smile as your plates are sat before you. “Thank you,” Mihawk dismissed the waiter with less than a glance.

You could have sworn you heard the boy mutter “prick” under his breath.

Conversation lapsed into silence as you ate. You had to hand it to the chef, he certainly knew what he was doing with his pasta. But your mind wasn’t on the pasta- it was on the way Dracule kept looking at you, as if you were the meat on his plate that he was devouring, rather than the steak that was rare enough it still bled, making its own gravy. How long had it been since the two of you had any time alone? Weeks, at this point. Between your own crew, your own plundering, and Mihawk’s schedule, finding any time to be alone had been difficult- until now.

A bag was presented along with the check as your plates were cleared away. “What did you order?” You whispered as he came around, pulling your seat out for you. You had a bit of a sweet tooth, something he was well aware of.

“Something sweet.” He replied as he left payment on the table before settling Yoru on his back once more. Once settled, he took hold of the bag in one hand while his other settled on the small of your back, leading you through the winding tables. Couples of all ages paused in conversation as you passed, shock and awe spread across their expressions.

You couldn’t help the rush of pride that swept through you. Yes, that’s right- Mihawk was yours. He was the one at your back. His hand was the one settled just above the curve of your ass. The one who had rented the hotel room, the one who had paid for your dinner, who had brought you here for time away from your crew- time alone with him.

You were his- and he, equally yours.

Crossing the lobby to the elevators, you shifted, moving his hand from your back to twine your fingers together. A soft hum pulled free from him at the movement, though you paid it no mind. He didn’t care, really- as long as he could touch you, that’s all that mattered to Mihawk. His hand gave yours a gentle squeeze as the bellhop opened the door for the elevator. A man this time, you noted as you two stepped in- and he stepped out quickly, face paling dramatically in a way that had you laughing.

Mihawk looked almost amused as he pulled the gate closed.

Alone, his hand pulled free to reach up, settling at the base of your neck, just above your spine. A gentle squeeze had your eyes falling closed, breath stuttering. “I believe I’m still hungry,” Mihawk sighed, tutting softly. “I suppose I’ll need to have my desert sooner rather than later.”

“Is that so?” You breathed out, features flushing as you reached your floor. You opened the gate quickly, stepping out ahead of Mihawk- who still had his hand on your neck, not allowing you to turn. Leading, guiding you to your room. “And here I was, thinking I had the sweet tooth.” You taunted, pulling the key free from your garter to unlock the door. An old habit- normally, a knife would have been there.

A gentle shove in had you stumbling forward. Mihawk kicked the door closed, already setting Yoru aside with great care. “Do you have any idea how delectable you are in that dress?” He murmured, turning as he clicked the lock into place. Your breath caught in your throat as he removed his hat, hanging it on the door handle- a habit you learned was to know if anyone tried to jimmy the lock to break in. “How I was tempted to cut dinner short just to rush you back up here? To feel the way your skin had warmed the silk.”

“No, I- I hadn’t realized you were affected that much.” He had a remarkable poker face, really. You stepped closer, meeting him halfway as his hands settled on your hips, tugging you closer. His fingers rucked up the fabric with how he gripped you in that moment. It was exhilarating as you reached up, cupping his cheeks as he studied you. “Then why don’t you do something about it?”

And so, he did.

Lifting you up with ease, hands gripping your thighs as he carried you to the bed. A squeal had escaped you at the sudden movement, though you couldn’t help the laughter that followed as he tossed you down. It was rare that Dracule became playful, but oh, how you relished it. The way he crawled over you, trapping you beneath his body- and within his kisses. Full of passion, you reached up to tangle a hand in his hair. One leg rose, hooking around his hips, tugging him down against yourself.

He hadn’t been the only one affected, after all.

“I could devour you,” Mihawk sighed into the kiss, trailing more down your jaw, to your throat, where he busied himself with making sure the world knew who you belonged to by leaving bruise after bruise. When he reached the juncture of neck and shoulder, he paused, teeth scraping the sensitive skin before biting down. A surprised yell escaped you, prompting you to tug on his hair. “May I?” He breathed against your skin, soothing the bite with a swipe of his tongue. “May I devour you? My dessert?”

“Mihawk,” you were panting already, heart hammering within your chest. His pupils were blown with lust, you noted; no doubt your own were the same. “Gods above, please. Please- I need you. I need you so badly, I ache for you.” You whined, shifting your hips as he sat up on his knees, tugging off the tie he wore, followed by the dress shirt- all but ripping it to remove it, tossing the ruined fabric aside.

He moved back off the bed, only to kneel at the end. You reached back, grabbing hold of the pillows to make things more comfortable for yourself- and for you, too. You tossed one down for him to kneel on, drawing a genuine smile from him as he shook his head. You placed a pillow behind your head, and one under yourself to raise your hips up. A better angle, you’d learned.

Carefully, he removed your heels, taking a moment to massage one foot, then the other. An appreciative hum pulled free from you as you settled back against the bed, eyes falling closed to enjoy the feeling of calloused hands smoothing across the smooth skin of your legs. A kiss was pressed to your right ankle, a nip at your calf that had your leg tensing momentarily. His hand settled behind your knee, prompting you to bend it, to settle it over his shoulder. And then- a gasp was ripped free at the feeling of his tongue laving a slow trail along the inside of your thigh. You sighed, eyes opening to study the ceiling, expecting for him to dive in-

Only to receive a bite on your left thigh. Your leg tensed once more before a surprised sound escaped as his tongue- his damned tongue- pressed against your core through your underwear. “Mihawk,” you whispered, hands fisting the lavish duvet beneath you.

“You’ve already soaked through your panties,” he taunted, turning his head to kiss at the juncture of your leg and pelvis. “What were you thinking about?” He mused as his fingers crept forward. Something clinked- you didn’t register what it was until cool metal pressed against the skin of your thigh. The Kogatana, you realized. “Was it this?”

“If you rip this pair, I’ll never forgive you.”

“I’ll buy you five of the same.”

“… That’s a good deal.” The sound of fabric ripping, of the flat of the blade pressing against your skin had goosebumps breaking out. He tugged your underwear off and away, the ruined fabric joining its predecessor- his shirt- on the ground somewhere. You’d find them later, it wasn’t important right now. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you watched as he carefully slid the Kogatana back into its sheath before removing it entirely from his neck. He looked up, meeting your gaze as he guided your thighs to settle back upon his shoulders. With a tug, he had you laying back once more with a breathless laugh that morphed into a moan as his tongue licked a slow path along your core.

Once.

Twice.

Three times before his thumbs settled on your lips, spreading you for him. “It’s almost like the nectar of the Gods,” he murmured against you, tongue laving against you from entrance to clit in firm, broad, warm strokes that had you gasping for air quicker than you thought possible. “I could get drunk off the taste.”

“Dracule,” you whined, a hand coming to settle in inky tresses, tugging none to softly, drawing a growl out from your lover.

In retaliation, he turned his head and nipped at your thigh, though it only drew a startled moan free. He returned to his goal, licking like a man starved, as if he truly did intend on eating you. His lips settled around your clit, creating a momentary vacuum that had your toes curling and your back arching. He hummed around you, tongue flicking over your clit quickly, mercilessly. Where he’d learned how to pleasure someone like this, you would never know. But by the Gods, you were melting against his mouth. “Oh, sweet Aphrodite,” you whimpered, hips shifting to grind against him, craving more stimulation. You needed, wanted, craved more.

“Greedy girl,” Mihawk growled, pulling back from your pussy to settle an arm over your hips, holding you down in place. “You’ll take what I give you, when I decide to give it. None of this nonsense.”

“Oh, you fucker,” you huffed, but try as you might, you could never move his arm. As you looked down at him, you caught a glimpse of yourself in that damned mirror, giving you pause. The dress was rucked up around your hips, your skin flushed in the soft light that spilled through the doors. And Mihawk was kneeling between your thighs- oh, you could watch him. You could watch the way his head bobbed with each pass of his tongue, the way his other hand was between his thighs, moving quickly-

Touching himself.

The knowledge sent a shudder through your body. “Good girl,” he murmured against your core, voice ragged. How close was he? Too close- he turned his full attention back to you, his now-free hand settling on your thigh. “So fucking wet, all for me.”

“You’re- oh, fuck- vocal tonight, aren’t you?”

Instead of answering, one of his fingers slid in smoothly, clear down to the knuckle, drawing a loud moan from you in retaliation. Slowly, he pumped, crooking his finger on the draw out to brush against your walls in a way that had you seeing stars- only from one damned finger. “Should see yourself,” he sighed, shaking his head. “Greedy, greedy girl- already weeping around my finger. Do you need another one?”

“Please!” You cried out as he withdrew his fingers, only to replace one with two. The stretch was delicious; you thought you could handle three, but couldn’t find your voice- not with how he started fucking you in ernest, not with the way he focused his talented mouth solely on your clit suddenly. “Oh- oh, there, there, there!” You cried, tossing your head back against the bed.

Good, he thought to himself. If he played his cards right… Crooking his fingers, he pressed upwards, grinding his fingers in, deeper than you could ever manage by yourself. Tongue rolling against your clit in hard passes that had your thighs tensing each time, you felt that familiar ball of tension begin to form quickly. “Can feel you getting tighter,” he taunted, letting his tongue hang out as he lavished your clit in attention.

“Mi-Mihawk, oh fuck. Oh- oh my god, your fingers!” You whined, reaching up to palm at your chest, tugging on your nipples before raising it higher to settle around your own throat. “I’m close, so close, please-”

“That’s my good girl. Come for me,” he rasped, watching the way you rolled your hips as best you could, as your stomach tensed. It was like watching a living piece of art, the way your orgasm washed over you. How your jaw dropped open, how your cries spilled free as your release spilled over his fingers, onto the floor below. “That’s my good girl.” The praise fell upon deaf ears, your heartbeat racing within your ears. You shuddered as you began to come down, the feeling of his fingers still gently thrusting almost too much for you. Weakly, you reached down to push at his shoulder, the telltale sign. He sighed, leaning forward to press a kiss against your oversensitive clit as he withdrew his fingers.

“Gods, Mihawk,” you shook your head, chest rising and falling with deep breaths, trying to calm yourself as he rose to his feet. He used the shirt he’d ruined to clean his arm up before tossing it over the small mess made on the floor. At least it didn’t hit the pillow, he thought as he grabbed it to set at the head of the bed.

“Oh, I hope I didn’t tire you out,” he murmured as he rounded the side of the bed, leaning over to draw you into a slow kiss. You could taste yourself on his lips, on the brush of his tongue against your lips, against your own. His chin was drenched in you- in your essence. You rolled over, rising to your knees to reach him properly, dragging him closer, chest to chest. “Why’s that?” You breathed into the kiss, pulling back just enough to study your lover. His hands reached up, brushing your hair back from your face, his lips curving into a grin full of mischief. “Because, darling, I want seconds. I haven’t had my fill yet.”

#one piece #dracule mihawk smut #dracule mihawk x reader #one piece x reader #one piece smut #think I need someone older series #feel like I need to go to church tomorrow for this jfc [ is pagan ]#next up: Shanks #and boy are y'all gonna love that one #unholy scripture [ n s f w ]#x reader #kanon's writings

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citrus-moonlight · 6 months ago

Text

Salvation is a Deep Dark Well

Chapter 2: Raise Your Chin and Howl

[ Masterlist - Part Two ] -> [ Masterlist - Part One ]

Fandom: MCU - Age of Ultron, Black Panther Pairing: Ulysses Klaue x F! Reader Word count: 9.7K Chapters: 2/6 Rating: Explicit

Summary: The actions of others leads to chaos at the compound, and after Klaue returns to deal with the aftermath you're surprised to learn that his reasons for being upset aren't what you think, and you finally have to admit some things that you've been denying.

Warnings: Explicit!, Mild Age Difference, Reader is Late 30s, Use of Pet Names, Injury, Workplace Injury, Mention of Blood, Reference to Guns, Insecurity (Reader is an Idiot), Light Angst, Smut, Dirty Talk, Teasing, Reference to Masturbation (M), Finger Sucking, Spit Kink, Oral Sex (M receiving), Brief Rough Oral, Cock Worship, Messy Blowjob, Mouth Fucking, Cum Swallowing, Hair Holding/Pulling, Guided Masturbation (F), Mild Size Kink, Soft Dom, Teasing, Praise Kink, Porn With Plot, More Accidental Feelings Oh No

AN: Welcome back, friends! It's been quite a while since I updated this one, but I'm excited to finally bring you so more of these two! it wasn't so much that this one got away from me, but what I wanted (and needed) to do with it was getting more involved, and ultimately I'm happy with how this ended up turning out. Especially since I also accidentally wrote a holiday "interlude" story that comes after this but before what was supposed to be the next chapter (which is now chapter four), which was simultaneously challenging and helpful in finding the right balance in this part as things progress.

As always, thank you for reading and to everyone who has commented or reblogged so far, and I am unendingly grateful to those who have provided encouragement and support through this writing of this story. I hope that you enjoy! 💕

AO3 Link

Title is from "Hands Like Roots" by The Builders and the Butchers

And if thee should die tonight Well it won't be without a sound When your hands move like roots Making their way through the ground

The afternoon is crisp but bright when you step outside, the sun actively working to melt much of the late autumn snow that had fallen overnight.

You’d only gone out to take a quick inventory of the oxygen and argon stock, but when you make your way past the loading dock to get to the storage cages you see something that makes you pause and do a double take.

On the compound’s property there are three industrial propane tanks that power and heat the facility, and today they were scheduled to be refilled before the snow properly settles in the mountains making the roads difficult to access during winter.

The refilling had already been completed and the tankers should have been long on their way, so you’re surprised when you see what appears to be a fuel transfer being done between the two bobtail trucks, which is illegal except in special circumstances, and making it more concerning they're also uncomfortably close to the loading dock.

On top of that, as far as you’re aware this compound isn’t licensed to allow truck to truck transfers at all - something that would normally only be done at the refilling plant - making it doubly illegal

And while this might not be a facility where “legality” is necessarily a top concern, that doesn’t change the fact that it’s still dangerous and incredibly stupid.

“What are you doing?” You blurt out, standing stock-still as you stare at Anatoly, the man who seems to be directing what’s happening. You weren’t necessarily on friendly terms with the Sokovian man, but you had chatted occasionally and he’d seemed to have more sense than this.

“We didn’t want to do it right next to the big tanks.” He gestures across the yard.

You continue to stare, perplexed.

“Ok, well, you shouldn’t be doing it here at all, but now you’re right next to the building, and the five pound tanks -”

“It was the only place flat enough for both trucks.”

“- are a lot closer than those big ones.”

“Don’t worry, it’s fine.” He brushes you off, starting to get visibly frustrated that you won’t let it go.

Changing tacks you turn to one of the drivers who’s in conversation with Milo, a welder you recognize from another shift.

“Hey, you know you’re not supposed to be doing this here, right?”

“He doesn’t know how, so I’m doing it for him,” Anatoly replies before the driver can answer himself. “You’re making a big deal from nothing.”

“Why are you doing it at all? Unless there’s an emergency you can’t just -”

“I’ve done it before.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Listen, they both would've had to go back to their plant, but now one can go straight to the next job.”

“So let me get this straight: Doing a favour for someone whose job doesn’t have anything to do with you is a good enough reason to create a potentially dangerous situation here? I don’t think that Klaue will love hearing that.”

“You’re not going to tell him.” His annoyed demeanor quickly shifts, his expression going icy.

“No? Why wouldn’t I? You’re doing something incredibly stupid and I think that he should-”

“So you’re going to snitch on me?” He sneers.

“About this? Yeah, I guess I am. And if you’re concerned about him finding out then you must have at least enough common sense to-”

“I don’t need common sense to know that you- ”

“Jesus Christ, would you let me finish a fucking sentence!”

Your voice surprises you and to Anatoly’s credit he actually shuts up, scowling like a petulant teenager who’s realizing that they’re not going to be able to intimidate their way out of trouble.

The other workers who had been milling around and watching half-interestedly now straighten up and turn towards the trucks.

“You.” Gesturing at both drivers, pleased that they at least appear to be somewhat chastised.

“You are supposed to be in control at all times. These trucks are your responsibility from start to finish and you’re letting him do something that’s illegal just to save a bit of time?”

“He offered!” The first one exclaims.

“Which he shouldn’t have, but you should have said no and moved on.”

You turn back to Anatoly whose mouth is downturned in an almost comical grimace.

“And you may think this is no big deal but I very much doubt that Klaue would appreciate you being so flippant about potentially damaging his operation.”

He looks like he wants to say something else but bites his tongue, his stare still condescending even though he knows you’re right and has no argument left.

At this point, and while you wouldn’t be surprised to learn it, you’re not yet aware that there’s a crack in the hose near to the end connected to the receiving truck. Before you’d even gone outside propane vapour had been steadily leaking out, the only indication that there was a problem the occasional whiff of mercaptan - faint and not out of the ordinary from a typical delivery.

Normally this wouldn’t be an issue and the vapours would simply disperse since you’re outdoors, but it’s unusually calm today with next to no breeze to move the air, allowing the heavier than air propane molecules to instead pool between the trucks like an invisible low-lying fog.

As it is, you’re relieved when everything is finally disconnected and sealed up, and having abandoned your inventory you turn to make your way back inside to try to get this documented, even if others think that you really are overreacting and Anatoly doesn’t face the consequences you think he should.

“You know, maybe next time you could- ”

You’re cut off again, but instead of a condescending comment this time it's by the sudden percussion of an explosion.

When the full truck’s engine started up an unknown faulty battery sparked and ignited the vapours that had been collecting, the flashback loud enough that your ears don’t register the sound until you’re already on the ground.

Fortunately you manage not to hit your head but your shoulder feels like you’re lucky it didn’t dislocate when you landed. Slowly pushing yourself up onto your elbow you look around, blinking until your vision slowly comes back into focus and you realize with a sinking feeling that the truck itself is now burning, flames appearing to emerge from one of the valves at the rear.

“Goddamnit,” you curse, momentarily frozen in place as you watch the flames growing quickly in front of your eyes.

You know that as the temperature rises the pressure inside the tanker does as well, and it needs to be stopped before the valve can no longer vent faster than the pressure is building, and you have no way of knowing whether any of the internal mechanisms were damaged in the explosion, so you may have even less time than normal.

Finally you manage to convince your muscles to move. Sucking in a breath you grit your teeth and force yourself to standing, moving as quickly as you can to reach the cabinet that houses the fire extinguishers, and then Milo is suddenly there next to you.

“I’ll take this one,” he offers and you quickly nod your thanks. Maneuvering over to the truck you unspool your hose and get as close as you can until the heat of the flames forces you back.

Stumbling briefly from the recoil when you pull the nozzle’s lever back you grimace at the sudden jolt of pain in your shoulder but manage to recover quickly, widening your stance to better brace yourself and focus the thick white cloud on the brightest part of the fire.

Thankfully the flames seem to be quickly smothered and you move closer as the heat begins to die down. Occasionally you or Milo alternate your focus on the truck’s own fuel tank, working to extinguish the burning propane while also trying to prevent the diesel from possibly igniting as well.

You can see Tom in your peripheral now, dimly aware of him barking directions, relieved that someone else was there to take charge, and even when the fire appears to be doused you keep your hoses pointed at the truck until both extinguishers have been completely emptied.

Finally, after what feels like hours but was probably less than fifteen minutes since you had walked outside you take a deep, shaky breath and simply sit down right where you stand in the mess of slush and extinguisher residue.

You can almost feel the adrenaline physically draining out of your system, your jaw involuntarily clenching as you begin to shiver. You’re not sure who’s hand squeezes your shoulder, your mind feels fuzzy as mild shock sets in, and it takes conscious effort to release your grip from the hose that’s still sitting across your lap and slowly stand back up.

You're buzzing wildly between a range of emotions: anger, frustration, relief, a blanket of exhaustion settling over all of it as you waver on unsteady legs, tamping down the thoughts of how much more badly this could have gone.

Two days after the incident with the trucks and the ringing in your ears has nearly stopped, and aside from stiff muscles and a painterly bruise blooming across your shoulder you'd come out of it all more or less unscathed.

Once the chaos had wound down and things could be assessed it was fortunate that damage was minimal and the overall injuries turned out to be minor, mostly cuts and bruises from being knocked over or from the burst of gravel from the initial explosion. Even the alarming amount of blood you'd seen running down Anatoly’s face ended up just being a superficial gash.

There are already at least two versions of what happened circulating through the facility, one casting your actions more favourably and one much less so (no question where that one started), though you’re not particularly concerned which version others decide to believe. Enough people witnessed what actually happened, and regardless you know that what you did was the right thing, and you’re confident that Klaue will see that.

You haven’t had a chance to talk to him yet but he's supposed to be on his way back, abandoning the South African coast early to assess the damage and meet with the kind of investigators that a facility that doesn’t exist in the strictest sense will allow.

Although you have his return to look forward to, you can’t help still feeling on edge as the dregs of adrenaline continue to circulate in your blood, and you regularly have to force yourself to take a deep inhale when you realize that your breathing has gone shallow again.

Fortunately you’ve had a simple job the last couple of days, spending your shift taking apart scrap metal to be sent to a foundry to be melted down. Oxy acetylene cutting can be physically taxing and it's hot as hell but it doesn’t require finesse, and right now you’re happy to simply let muscle memory guide you, focusing only on regulating the flow of gas and keeping the glide of the flame’s sharp tip steady as you work.

You’re waiting for the disassembled pieces you'd just cut to cool before moving them so that you can start on the next section when there’s a sudden burst of activity at the entrance to the shop, and when you turn towards the disturbance you see that Klaue has just walked in.

His eyes have already found you but the swell of excitement at seeing him unexpectedly is quickly replaced by confusion when you register his dark expression.

“You.” He points, singling you out from the crowd. “Come with me.”

Your mouth drops open in surprise at the anger in his tone, and when you don’t immediately move to follow he raises his eyebrows, impatience clear in the tight set of his jaw.

“Now.” He grits through clenched teeth.

“Ohh, someone’s in trouble.”

You whip around to find the source of the taunt, the anger and frustration that you haven’t fully processed surging out in a red-hot wave, and the words are out before you can think.

“Shut the fuck up!”

The idiot is looking at you like he’s made some world-class joke and you're ready to lay into him, but suddenly his focus moves behind you and the smirk drops away as the blood drains from his face.

Slowly turning to follow his eyes you see Klaue standing as still as a steel lathe with his arm extended, but it takes several seconds for you to register that the leather holster on his leg is empty and his gun now aimed at the center of the man's chest.

“Shit.” You gasp.

All of the oxygen seems to have been sucked out of the room and you're rooted to the spot, your hearing gone muffled and tinny. The joker’s eyes are flashbulb wide, standing with his arms jutting into the air as though that might have any impact on what happens next.

Every inch of Klaue appears calm, you might almost say he was relaxed if it weren't for the weapon in his hand. But the unmistakable fury in his eyes colours them nearly black, an obsidian blade glinting in the shadows simply waiting for an excuse to strike, and though he speaks quietly you know that everyone watching this happen can hear every word clear as day.

“If you ever speak to her about anything other than this job again...”

He doesn't finish the sentence, he doesn't have to, the sound of the safety lever being flicked off is deafening. The only movement in the room is the flex of tendons in Klaue's hand as his thumb deftly finds the switch.

You’re not sure whether the man is actually breathing, and even though your own heart is pounding out of your chest you find that you’re not exactly upset about the look of abject fear in his eyes.

“No! I mean I won’t! I didn’t mean anything, I’m sorry I-” he stammers, panicked eyes flicking back and forth between the weapon and Klaue’s face, forcing his hands almost comically high until his biceps are covering his ears.

No one else speaks.

After several more excruciating seconds you finally hear the click of the safety re-engaging and you let out the breath you’d been holding as he slowly replaces the gun in its holster.

Then he turns back to you and repeats:

“Now.”

You have to work to keep up with Klaue’s brisk pace as you make your way through the warren of hallways, eventually ending up in an area you’d only passed by before. You follow him into a room filled with various pieces of vaguely familiar military equipment, a heavy desk and a bank of monitors against one wall, and in your still flustered state it’s only when he closes the door behind you that you realize that he’s taken you to his office.

He walks over and leans on the desk, weight braced on his knuckles as his shoulders rise and fall, each breath slow and deep.

He doesn’t speak, doesn’t look at you - in fact he hasn’t looked at you since he’d turned away expecting you would follow.

“Klaue?”

You think that you note a brief hitch in his breathing, but beyond that he doesn’t respond.

“Listen, it’s been a long couple of days and I’d really appreciate it if you’d tell me what’s going on.”

“What you did was dangerous.” He replies quietly, finally seeming to find his words.

You sigh. You’re not entirely surprised that that’s what this is about but you’re still irritated and your lingering anger is back at the surface, leaving you fighting to keep your response measured. You’re not the one who’d done anything wrong. You thought he’d understand that.

“I did what needed to be done, that whole situation was getting worse by the second.“

“You put yourself in harm's way. There was no need to get that close when there had already been an explosion.”

“So was I just supposed to stand around with my mouth hanging open like almost everyone else? Or walk away and pretend that nothing was happening?”

“You didn’t need to get yourself involved, period. Those men would have dealt with the consequences of their actions.”

You throw your hands up in resignation.

“This is perfect, I was one of the few people actually trying to help, and yet I’m the one you’re taking it out on? That seems par for the course in all of this.”

Finally Klaue turns around to face you.

“I’m not- ”

"What about Milo? Or more importantly the asshole that actually caused the whole fucking mess??" You're close to yelling now, unable to help it as your anger and disappointment finally boil over.

"Do you really think he hasn't already been dealt with?” He replies sharply. “He’s gone, and won't be stepping foot in another shop anywhere, ever again. I'll be making sure of it.”

There's something flat in his eyes that cloaks the usual sharp blue.

“Ok, well…good.” You’re happy to hear it, though you’re still only somewhat placated. “But that doesn’t change the fact that the damage could have been so much worse if that truck had kept burning. I had to do something."

"That shouldn’t be your concern. I would have handled it."

“More people would have gotten injured.”

“I’m aware.”

“Or killed!"

"You could have gotten- "

He cuts himself off with a sharp exhale, fists balled tight at his sides.

He hasn’t raised his voice until now, but it's his tone and the way his words waver that gives you pause. As you watch Klaue collect himself you feel something trying to work its way into your chest - something that’s whispering to you what that clouded look in his eyes might have been.

Fear.

He’s visibly tense, lips pressed in a thin line as he takes a step toward you, broad shoulders curling inwards in an almost protective posture.

“I know you didn’t have anything to do with the accident, and that you wanted to help. But what you did still wasn't-”

He stops again and it surprises you, normally so certain of his words and not exactly afraid to speak his mind, you instead watch the muscles of his jaw working as his eyes burn into yours.

“This is a risky job.” You finally break the silence, trying to reason with him, taking your own tentative step closer to him. “Even when I’m not working for an arms dealer, by the way. Anywhere in this trade mistakes like that can happen.”

There’s a soft “careful” in the quick tilt of his head, and even now you feel a spark of relief at the flash of that familiar part of him.

“And you got hurt here.”

You only realize that your hand has been rubbing your bruised shoulder when you notice his eyes have shifted to watch your fingers.

“So did other people! Why am I being singled out? What is the concern about me?”

A part of him seems to drift from you again, and when he doesn’t respond a vice of cold steel begins to tighten around your chest. Has he discerned the real question that was hidden in your words? Is he angry? Disappointed? Indifferent?

Damnit, you curse yourself.

You wished you hadn’t said it but the recent stress has eroded your filters and you couldn’t help but push. Even though you’re not going to get the answer you can barely admit that you want.

“If you had really been hurt. If you had gotten killed..”

When his eyes focus on you again there’s a coldness in them that you’ve only seen hints of before, but now it’s right there at the surface, clear and sharp and seething.

“That man wouldn’t be gone, he would be dead.”

Oh.

Klaue’s words are laced with a calm certainty that sets your heart racing, your skin prickling hot under the weight of his gaze as you stand there shocked silent by his admission, unsure how to respond.

Just as suddenly as it appeared the cold begins to melt away, his eyes sweeping over you as if confirming that you’re still there, still whole and standing in front of him.

“Did you think I wouldn’t be concerned about you?” He asks, a curious frown knitting his brows.

You’re not sure how to respond to that either and you’re quiet for several long moments, chewing your lower lip while you consider, nervous for a different reason now.

He’s pushing you back, and it’s what you wanted (what you needed), not letting you get away with hiding, because if you’re going to ask the question you need to answer it, too.

But he must know it’s not a simple question, and right now you can’t give him a simple answer.

“I don’t…know what this is.” You start, haltingly.

The first threads of an admission that there’s something for this to be.

An admission that although a part of you has known it since the first night he slowly, achingly buried himself inside you, you can no longer pretend that he hasn’t already ruined you.

”Neither do I.” He concedes, slowly closing the last steps that separate you, surprised to find yourself relaxing at his words. It's not an answer, not yet, but still an acknowledgement, that you’re both uncertain but unable to help the way that you’re drawn together. Moths lost in the dark, instinctively picking up on the invisible spark of the other.

His hand reaches up to touch the shoulder that you'd been massaging.

“Let me see.” Klaue rumbles softly as he moves to lift the edge of your shirt, and silently you help him work your arm from the sleeve before he pulls the garment the rest of the way off, leaving you in your sports bra.

“I don’t know that I have to know, but I-”

You start to speak but then inhale a sharp breath when his palm slides over your shoulder, soothing the bruised warmth, fingers also dance along the scar on your other arm which was fortunately not the side you’d landed on.

“And I don’t know if I can tell you.” His frown deepens as he takes in the angry bloom of purpling skin. “But I haven’t been able to think about anyone else since you’ve been here.”

You hadn’t assumed anything but you can’t help the sting of relief, even as you fight to hold back the dam of want that’s cracking open beneath your ribs.

But when his hand slides up over your shoulder, your neck, tilting your head so that you meet his eyes, you realize that it's a battle you've already lost.

Your fingers curl around his wrist, the other hand pressing flat against the firm warmth of his chest.

“I hadn’t been seeing anyone for a while, before Utrech..” You start and then pause, your eyes slipping closed with a sigh as you sink into the sensation of his palm against your cheek. “But even when I was still trying to pretend that I didn’t…since then it hasn’t even occurred to me to think about anyone but you.”

“Is that right?” Klaue’s voice hums with a pleased timbre though his eyes flick searchingly across your face.

“Yes. There’s no one else. Not now, not-”

Not ever.

“No one has ever come close to making me feel the way you do, Ulysses. And maybe I don’t know what this is, but…I know that I don’t want to stop.”

The last words come out in a breathless rush, forced out before you can overthink and lock them away again. Finally admitting it as much to yourself as to him.

“I’m not going to stop, darling. Not a fucking chance.”

You nearly laugh with giddy relief but it’s interrupted when his hand tightens around your jaw, leaning in so that his mouth is hovering over yours as you press your body flush against him, arching into the stiffening ridge of his erection that juts into your hip.

You try to angle your mouth to find the warmth of his lips against yours, but strong hands continue to hold you just there, a breath apart. The air has shifted, a charge growing in the dwindling space between you that leaves your skin tingling from the near contact, and when you feel a faint brush of his lips against yours an audible whine slides from your throat.

“That night, after the bar, I thought about you.” Klaue continues.

“You did?”

“Yes.” He nearly groans the word. “Thought about how you'd taste when you come.”

The wet heat that’s been building in your core surges at his words, at the sudden image of him flushed and sweaty, his fist moving in rough strokes over his swollen cock and the thought of you in his head.

One of your hands begins to slide between your bodies, needy fingers plucking at his belt, reaching beneath the waistband and tugging.

“Thought about taking you into the back, finding a quiet corner, having you on your knees in front- in front of me.” His voice hitches and he shudders when you find the now stiff curve of his cock beneath the fabric.

“And then..when you were there, kneeling, I was sure I was dreaming. But you were so much better than my dreams. Such a tease, weren’t you?” He hums, and you can hear the grin even as his voice drops to a rasp of granite and silk.

“Thinking you could get away with that.”

Klaue’s hips rock into your touch as you squeeze more firmly, sliding your hand along the shape of him, rewarded with a harsh sigh as he pulls back and fixes his eyes fix on yours. You thrill at the heat that you find there, helplessly reaching for the flames that lick against your skin.

That invite you to burn.

“I didn’t think that for a second. But I already apologized, didn’t I?”

A flash of him holding you against the door, desperation on your lips as he finally let you fall apart.

“Oh, you thought that was your apology? Getting to come on my fingers?”

“I didn’t, I mean-” You stammer, the movement of your hand faltering even as his admonition sends another wave of heat through your body.

“I’m afraid not, darling. And right now..” Your eyelids flutter and it takes a moment to realize that he’s waiting to make sure he has your attention.

“Y-yes?”

“Maybe I do.”

“You do…what?” Frowning, you try to figure out his meaning through the growing haze of arousal.

“Want to take it out on you.”

Your eyes snap to his, molten sapphire when you meet them.

“And maybe,” Klaue’s thumb swipes across the corner of your lips. “I want to take it out on this mouth of yours.”

His eyes flick down to catch your tongue peeking out as you reflexively lick your lips.

“Because a day hasn’t gone by that I haven’t thought about that sweet promise you made on your knees.”

His thumb slides against the seam of your lips, smug when they part easily beneath the pressure.

He tsks, but any response you might give is cut off when he pushes past your teeth and your tongue gratefully tastes the calloused skin. But just as you move to take his thumb deeper into your mouth he pulls back, quickly replacing it with his index and middle fingers before you can lament the loss, and you can’t help but moan around the thick digits.

Eagerly you begin to slide your mouth along them, slowly bobbing your head, taking them further until they’re far enough back that your gag reflex triggers and your body stiffens, squeezing your eyes shut as you force yourself to take slow breaths.

Eventually your eyelids flutter open again, your focus coming back to him and the pleased look in his eyes.

Once you catch your breath you increase the suction of your lips to pull his fingers a little deeper, your tongue teasing around and between his two fingers, the texture of his warm skin contrasted with the smooth edges of his ring.

The next time you pull back he takes the opportunity to add a third finger, his other hand reaching up to cup the back of your neck, gently but firmly holding your head in place as he slides them all the way into your mouth again until his thumb and pinky are cradling your jaw.

Klaue’s mouth has dropped open, his breathing gone rough as he watches your lips stretching around his fingers. Both of your hands have moved to grip his shirt, steadying yourself, your eyes beginning to water as your breath comes in quick gasps.

“Shhh,” he soothes. “Just like that.”

His fingers stay where they are until your breathing slows again, nearly wincing at the deep velvet of his gaze on you, soft but inescapable.

You still feel the instinct to gag, but once your throat relaxes the rest of you follows, and you sigh as he withdraws a little, rubbing gentle circles against your tongue. Your inhibitions are quickly falling away as you become focused only on more, moaning as his fingers continue to move, the thumb of his hand that’s curled around your neck caressing the sensitive skin there.

A heady thrum of desire is growing, settling deep between your thighs as you watch him through heavy-lidded eyes as he alternates between slowly pumping and then pressing deep and holding there, pleased when your breathing evens out more quickly every time.

Watching his expression cloud over with lust it occurs that you’d never really thought about how much he liked this. How watching your lips, and feeling your warm, slick mouth around his fingers as they grow shiny with your spit has him barely hanging on.

“That’s my needy girl.”

Klaue’s words are a sigh, almost a release, the tension when you had first followed him ebbing from his body, smoothing the set of his shoulders as his fingers continue to move.

You shudder again, unable to hold back the keening sounds from escaping your throat, your center already soaked and aching and you don’t even have his cock in your mouth yet.

“What’s the matter, isn’t this enough?” His words are cut with a smug glint of gold, seeming to guess what you’re thinking about.

And honestly you would let him keep doing this if he wanted, turning you into a mindless mess with just his fingers and only your eyes able to plead wordlessly for more. But he said he was going to fuck your mouth, and the narrowing of your eyes answers his question.

His unoccupied hand releases your neck and takes one of your hands, returning it to the waist of his pants where you quickly work at his belt and zipper, determined though distracted by the continued slip and drag through your lips.

Eventually you manage to reach beneath the fabric to grip his hard length, your other hand tugging the layers down until you’re able to free his cock. The movement of his fingers falters at your touch but then he’s grinning when your moans become more plaintive, saliva spilling from the corners of your mouth as your hand hungrily strokes the intoxicating heat of him.

“Now, don’t swallow.” Klaue murmurs.

You have a split second to frown before he withdraws, realization dawning when you have to quickly close your mouth to keep from drooling.

Unable to reply, you wait a beat before your eyebrows raise in a question.

“On your knees.” His hand drops, slick fingers replacing yours where they’re wrapped around his length.

Your breath catches with anticipation, and unable and unwilling to hide how eager you are now you keep your eyes on his as you sink down slowly until the thick circle of his fist is directly in front of you, the slit already leaking as he strokes himself.

The sight of it has you aching, desperate for your lips to replace the languid slide of his fingers, to take him deep into your mouth then and nose into the dark, grey-flecked hair that spreads from the base of him.

“Now, spit on my cock, darling.”

Your reverie suddenly broken you look up to see him watching you intently, eyes dark and commanding, his hand now gripping the thick base, holding himself out to you.

Waiting.

Still unable to reply, all you can do - all you want to do - is acquiesce. So you lean forward and slowly let the saliva slide from your parted lips until it drops onto the head of his cock, his palm quickly gathering and dragging your offering down his length, groaning at the slide of it beneath his fingers.

Only when you hear the low timbre of his laugh do you realize that you’re practically pouting as your eyes eagerly follow the movement of his hand.

You lean forward again, glossy lips parting in anticipation, but his other hand quickly reaches to grasp your hair and stops you.

You’re agonizingly close, not caring how desperate you must look straining against his grip as your tongue flicks out, the sounds of skin on slick skin making you increasingly desperate to taste him as he holds you just out of reach of what you want.

“Look at you.” Klaue croons.“You’re always switched on. You’re strong and I can see how hard you work, and I want you to know how much I appreciate that.”

You flush at his praise, briefly distracted from your conquest.

“But when I use your mouth…then I get to watch you let go. I can tell that you don’t like to do it for yourself, so I’m going to do it for you. Going to empty that head of yours.”

His hips nudge toward you and this time when your lips drop open he lets you move to meet him.

He sucks a hiss through his teeth when you press a wet kiss against the thick head of his cock, chased by a relieved groan as you let your lips smear the glisten of precum that continues to leak there, fresh heat blooming between your legs at the sounds this draws from him.

You keep the muscles of your jaw relaxed and pliant as you press slowly forward. Not sucking yet, simply using the head of his cock to part your lips to slide over the already slick skin, slowly and thoroughly mapping the shape of him with your mouth.

And he's right, of course. You can feel yourself relaxing as you finally taste the musk of his heated skin, humming contentedly as your tongue swirls around the head and drags over the sensitive frenulum, the tension of the last few days finally draining away with every languorous slip of your mouth.

A different kind of tension quickly swelling deep in your core.

“Jesus.” Klaue sighs above you as you gradually take him deeper, one hand braced on his thigh while the other wraps around him, his cock achingly hard beneath your fingers.

Still loosely holding your hair he's letting you work him, your own pleased moans slipping from your throat as you lick hungrily over every ridge and vein, savouring the salty tang of his velvet-slick skin warm against your tongue

Pleasure thrums through your body, growing hotter with the attention you’re giving him, but as you take him deeper again, your lips stretching wider, realization flickers in the back of your mind that you haven’t even taken him halfway yet and you’re already growing overwhelmed by how full your mouth is.

But, god, the ragged sound he makes when you slide down until his cock nudges the back of your throat makes your cunt throb, so you pull back so that you’re holding just the tip of him between your lips and then you do it again, reveling in every inch that you can take.

Slowly you build a steady rhythm until saliva is dripping down your chin, he's continuing to let you control the pace for now, allowing you to breathe and adjust until he’s deeper than when he was on the couch.

Your hunger is growing, though, and soon you're pushing forward with more intention and when your throat spasms you swallow reflexively, your eyes watering when this draws him in further. Klaue’s moans deepen at the ripple of the muscles around his cock but you’re unable to fight it any longer and you gag, even as his drawn out “Fuck” has your hips rocking.

Squeezing your eyes shut you just barely manage to stay where you are, tears dampening your lashes until you finally have to pull back, although you keep him in your mouth, breathing hard through your nose to catch your breath.

“It’s alright,” he rasps. ”Don’t think you’re going to be able to take all of me right now, darling. But you’ll take as much as you can, and when you can swallow every inch of my cock then you’ll get to feel me come down your throat.”

You can’t help the muffled sound you make that’s equal parts arousal and disappointment.

“Don’t worry, I’m still going to make a pretty mess of your mouth," he teases, his heaving chest and half-lidded eyes betraying his own growing need.

Not that he isn’t doing a fair job of it already, of course, unable to properly swallow, your chin is quickly growing shiny with drool. The pressure of his other hand still cradling the back of your neck firm but soothing as he holds you in place, as the still restrained flex of his hips begins seeking the wet heat of your mouth again, and you sigh at the intoxicating weight of his cock dragging against your tongue.

As you relax your awareness drifts back down to the heat between your legs, the slick press of the seam of your pants against your sex barely relieving the ache there as you squeeze your thighs together.

After a few more slow thrusts he presses forward into the back of your throat again, and as he holds himself there you take a shaky breath and swallow once, and then again, taking more of him than you have so far.

“There you go, God-”

You try to hollow your cheeks to pull him in further but you gag again when he bucks suddenly, his words cut off with a growled curse.

“It’s alright,” Klaue soothes, pulling back to give you a moment to recover, though it was more startling than painful. “You’re doing so fucking well.”

Looking up at him you see that his eyes are screwed shut, head bowed and breathing hard, concentration etched clearly across his face. When he finally opens his them he can only groan at the sight of your tear-damp reverence, his attention is first drawn first to where he's disappearing into your mouth as he starts to move again, but it’s not long before they catch instead on the needy cant of your hips.

“You do love this, don’t you? Have you soaked through your panties already?”

You can only let out a whimpered moan as you attempt to nod.

He hasn’t let you take his cock out of your mouth yet and you can feel the drool that continues to spill from your lips beginning to collect and drip off of your chin, down onto your chest where it slicks the skin between your breasts.

There’s a flicker in the back of your mind, a needling thought that you should feel…ashamed. By the mess, and your neediness, by how much you fucking adore being on your knees for this man.

But that flicker is quickly snuffed out as Klaue continues to use your mouth, and as you take in the look of awe in his eyes, when you feel his thumb softly stroking over the curve of your cheekbone, you realize that you don’t feel below him.

That although you're on your knees, it feels like you’re the one being worshiped.

You want to focus on him and you try, really you do, but the heated ache in your cunt is becoming unbearable and you can't help shifting and squeezing your thighs together, made breathless by your need as much as by the fullness of him in your mouth.

He's has been watching - and clearly enjoying - this increasingly desperate movement of your hips, but finally he seems to take pity on you.

“Do you want to touch yourself, darling? Want to come while you drool all over my cock?”

Even through his tease you can feel how his own words affect him in the quickening buck of his hips.

“Go on then, feel how wet your pussy is just from this.”

The words are barely past his lips and you’re already moving, but just as you manage to work your hand beneath the waistband of your pants he speaks again.

“Slow.”

The word is quiet but firm, Klaue's tone softer than before yet shot through with an irresistible command and you pause, glancing back up.

His shoulders and neck are impossibly broad from this vantage, eyes bright but tinged with a smoky darkness that does away with your resistance, and you know with a thrilling certainty that as desperate as you are for relief, in this moment you’d do whatever he asked.

Keeping your eyes locked on his you begin to move again, dipping your hand down - slowly.

“That’s it. Slip your hand into your panties now. Just- just one finger, darling.” His voice is uneven and clipped like he's having to concentrate on forming the words. “Slide it along that pretty slit of yours. Barely need to press to feel it, don’t you? How wet you are.”

You can only whimper in response, the building ache between your thighs only made worse by how close you are to relief, by how you could increase the pressure just slightly and you’d be able to part yourself and find your desperate bundle of nerves.

“You have no idea how delicious that first taste of you is. So fucking sweet.”

There’s an edge to his words, as though he were jealous of your fingers, that they get to slide and tease between your legs and not his tongue.

There’s barely any friction beneath your index finger, but the soft glide combined with his grunted breaths above you has you clenching and it's near agony to keep your movements slow and controlled, fighting against every instinct in your body not to give in as your sex quivers, pleading for more.

So instead you pull your focus back to his cock and let your mouth move the way you wish your fingers could, quickly and hungrily sliding your lips along his shaft until with a sudden movement you take him into the back of your throat again and keep him there, your hand stroking the part of him you can't take.

“Christ,” he grits through his teeth, your scalp stinging from the quick jerk of his hand in your hair. “Not yet.”

You can't tell if this is directed at you or himself as he swallows and releases a shuddered breath, his voice strained when he speaks again.

“Slide two fingers over your clit for me, now.”

Relief ripples up your spine as you eagerly press through your drenched folds, fingers dragging against your swollen bud, unable to let out more than a choked sound as you push forward to keep his cock where it is in your throat, hot tears spilling over.

“Again.”

Your touch grows rougher, matching his words, feeling the inevitable swell of pleasure growing as you float there, caught in the riptide of his voice.

”Want to go faster, don’t you?” Klaue rasps. “Want to reach down to feel how soaked your needy hole is?”

You do, trembling fingers unable to help chasing the path of his words as if they were his tongue instead, sliding along your slick cleft and down to gather more of your arousal.

Pleasure strings tighter when your fingers slide back up and over your clit, cursing him internally as you gasp short breaths through your nose. You try to relax your throat even as every other muscle in your body draws tight, unsure how much longer you can keep yourself from falling over the edge.

You can’t really tell him, only your eyes can plead, I’m close, I’m so close it feels so good please let me come.

“So used to begging with that pretty mouth.” He taunts with a breathless growl, reading your desperation, his lips curled in a grin at your half-delirious expression.

“It's alright, I know how good it's making you feel to use your mouth like this instead. Just like I know you’re going to make yourself come now.”

You're so close to lost that it takes a second for you to process his command, but when you do something in you snaps.

Your fingers immediately find a tight rhythm as you chase the swollen edge of pleasure, his fist gripping your hair tight to hold you firmly in place as your movements begin to grow frantic, unable to control any part of you as the blinding heat of your climax finally shocks through you.

The muscles of your throat spasm as your cunt flutters around nothing, desperate sounds caught in your chest as your hips buck and writhe against your fingers. Your other hand is entirely lost to any sense of rhythm and it drops to grasp at the fabric covering his thigh in an attempt to find purchase, and then suddenly his hand not in your hair is there, strong fingers twining tightly with yours, holding on to you as you fall apart.

“That’s it,” Klaue pants, his voice thick with lust and awe. “Choke on my cock while you come.”

You want to curse and cry and plead as ecstasy works its way through you in eddies and purls, and it almost feels like you might be drowning but you’re powerless to want anything else but to drown in him, trembling with relief as your fingers roughly work every pulse of pleasure from your clit.

As the waves begin to soften your other senses gradually filter back in: the ache in your throat and your jaw, the sting in your knees where they press into the floor, and when your body slackens as you start to come down he allows you pull back enough to properly catch your breath.

Slowly you’re able to focus again, eyes damp and red rimmed as you look up at him, but you only have a brief moment to appreciate his pleased expression before his eyes go storm dark.

“Going to come in your mouth, now.”

Fingers tighten in your hair once more and then he’s moving. His thrusts are rough now with surrendered control as his hips chase a harsh rhythm, a low groan rolling through his chest that's woven together with your name as he finally gives in and takes what you'd promised.

You attempt to tighten your lips around him as his rasping curses continue above you, but it’s no use, all you can do is kneel and relent to the slide of his cock filling your mouth again and again.

You want to beg him, words that fall so easily from your lips now when you sense that he’s about to let go for you, but you can only whine for it, your plaintive noises slipping messily around his cock until the pattern of his thrusts falters. And then, finally, there's only bliss when you hear his choked gasp as he stiffens, and you feel the first warm spurts of his spend coating your tongue.

With a low, open-mouthed moan he continues to fuck into the wet suck of your mouth, spilling himself across your lips and chin as well as your tongue until pearly ropes of cum are mixing with your drool, the mess of it dripping in slick stands off of your chin.

Then suddenly Klaue pulls out completely for the first time since this started and at first you can only gasp and cough, but when his hand wraps around himself your mouth instinctively drops open. Resting the head of his cock against the offering of your tongue he slowly strokes though the last pulses of his orgasm, making sure to give you every last drop, dragging through the slick mess with slow, sated thrusts until his fist gradually stills.

Eventually he pulls back though not away, panting and heavy lidded as he looks down at you where you kneel, a shining strand strung between his tip and your swollen lips that glisten with the pearly sheen he’s painted them with.

“Now you can swallow, darling.”

You’re not sure if you should laugh or sob, but fighting both you make sure to keep your eyes on his as you curl your tongue back into your mouth and swallow, before dragging your fingers across your chin to gather the mess he left there, too.

A lazy smile curves his lips as he watches your mouth sliding around your fingers, and once you've cleaned as much as you can your hand drops, both of them resting on the tops of your thighs.

Gently, the backs of Klaue’s fingers brush at the streaks of tears that are beginning to dry on your cheeks, then one slowly hooks under your chin to tip your head up, not letting you hide, leaving you startled by the affection that vines its way through your ribcage, burrowing into the want that even now burns hot.

The want that folds into a desperation to please him, to give and take everything until the only thing left is your desire.

You wish that you could explain it to him, that you could say something coherent, but any words you try to form seem to dissipate before they can reach your mouth, and you’re unsure that you could even articulate your thoughts as you sit in the filmy haze of your afterglow.

So when you do open your mouth you're nearly as caught off guard by the words that come out as he is, your voice an almost unfamiliar, grateful rasp.

“Thank you.”

Klaue’s satisfied grin falls away, his lips parting with a groaned sigh and then he’s reaching down, a hand curling around your bicep to pull you up to standing. You waver against the stiffness in your legs but he supports you, his palm again finding its place against your cheek.

He pauses, really taking in the state of you: your dazed expression and cock-swollen lips, standing there bruised and mussed and shirtless and pleased, his large hand brushing across your chin to catch more of the sheen there, words seeming to hover on the tip of his tongue.

The line between his brows deepens with a purse of his lips, a barely perceptible shake of his head.

“You’re going to be the death of me, klein Mot.”

Then he's pulling you against him, his lips suddenly on yours and he's kissing you deeply, licking hungrily into your mouth and you swiftly grow breathless as he chases the taste of himself on your tongue. But just as you’re sinking into it, he pulls away.

“Come here.”

He turns with you, quickly crowding you back against his desk, hands reach down to wrap around your thighs and you quickly brace against the surface as he lifts you until you’re perched on the edge of it.

Your legs fall open easily as he moves forward, his focus coming to rest on you again as his hands slide up to circle your waist.

“You did so fucking well.” A smile tugs at his lips again as thumbs trail soft patterns against your bare skin. “Are you alright?”

Warmth blooms at his concern, an unexpected contrast with what had just transpired.

“Yes.” You’re still finding your voice, still feeling like you're catching your breath, but you’re good. More than.

“You're sure?”

Leaning forward you slide your arms around his broad waist, hitching your legs up as well, drawing him into you.

“Yes, I promise.” You assure, brushing the ghost of a smile against his lips. “And…I promise that I won’t lie to you if anything is too much.”

“Good.” Klaue pulls back to look at you, a pleased edge of gold glinting in the blue before a more serious expression settles into the creases around eyes. “Because I'm going to keep pushing you.”

You inhale sharply, a fresh throb of heat blooming in your still slick core as your legs tighten around his hips.

“I want you to, Ulysses,” you hum, slowly arching and rolling your center against him, feeling him still half hard where he'd tucked himself back into his pants.

“I know, my darling.” His words are knowing and smooth with the edges singed dark, hands roving slowly over the soft flesh of your waist as he continues matter-of-factly. “But right now, you’re going to have some water, and then I’m going to make you come again.”

“Yeah?” You say hopefully as you continue to move against him, chasing the heat he so easily stokes in you with just a few words.

A slow nod and a rumbled confirmation.

“I’m going to take care of you, now, Mot. I don’t need you to make any decisions today. Except for one.”

“Oh?”

“Not how many times you’re going to come, that's up to me. But you’re going to tell me how.”

“God, Ulysses.” You’re burning with arousal now, every inch of your skin prickling hot. “That's all?”

“Will it be my fingers?”

His hands brush further up your waist, thumbs teasing beneath the band of your bra to just brush against the sensitive curve of your breasts before trailing back down.

“Or my mouth?”

Leaning in his lips press against your neck, a silvered shimmer of nerves swirling out from the point where his tongue flicks out to taste your skin, your body swiftly surrendering to the heat of his promise.

“Or perhaps you’d like to straddle my thigh until you’ve made a lovely mess for me.”

A needy sound rends itself from your chest as his thumbs press into the sensitive creases where your hips meet your thighs, but just as you open your mouth to reply, a loud knock sounds on the door.

“Not right now.” Klaue calls out to whoever is in the hall without pulling away from you.

“Yes, now.”

“I’m not ask-”

“It’s a call you’ve been waiting for. There's a problem.”

Jaw clenching, he exhales a sharp breath.

“Just a minute,” he replies.

“You really need to-”

“Just a minute.” Klaue snaps, his head jerking towards the door and you jump, your legs tightening around him.

“Alright, alright.”

The man’s voice trails off and it sounds like he’s moved down the hallway, at least for now.

When he looks back at you you’re biting your lip, the look in his eye telling you he must have noticed your reaction to his tone.

“Think about what I asked.”

You're about to reply that you will, but something occurs to you about the suggestions he’d given you.

“Wait, is.. is your cock not an option?” You give him a coy look through your lashes, intending to tease but still a little nervous that maybe it won't be.

“Don’t worry, I’m going to fuck you, darling. If you’re good.”

A thumb grazes the corner of your mouth, distracting you momentarily from what that means as you unconsciously flick your tongue out to meet it, earning you a knowing grin when you quickly pull away with a sheepish laugh.

“So?” He says, waiting for your confirmation of his request.

“I will. I’ll…think about it.” You're nearly panting now as the rock of your hips grows needier, shocked at how quickly you can feel another orgasm building already, if you just had a few more minutes you could-

“That’s all you’ll be doing, though. Yeah?”

Strong hands tighten around your hips, pinning their faltering movement against him and you pull back with a frown.

“Are you saying…you want me to think about how I want to come, but I can’t- ”

“Smart girl, you did hear what I said.” His gaze sweeps over your face, and you barely manage not to scoff.

“Yes, I heard you. But I mean, I did already make myself come. I made that decision.”

Klaue tilts his head, mock curiosity knitting his brows.

“Did you?”

You open your mouth to argue but then close it again, pursing your lips together in a pout. He has a point, though: It may have been your fingers, but it was his words guiding you, and you only made yourself come when he told you that you would.

“I decide,” he repeats, and you bite back a whimper when he slowly grinds you against him again. “And I've decided you're going to wait.”

There’s another, more insistent knock at the door.

“Coming.” Suddenly letting go he steps back from you, not hiding his pleasure at your pained expression as he finds and hands you your shirt which you reluctantly put back on.

“I’ll walk you back to the main corridor.” He pauses with his hand on the doorknob and raises a brow, waiting for you to follow.

“Fine. I’ll think about it.” You finally say, pushing yourself off of the desk, not bothering to hide the frustration in your voice.

“I know you will, darling.” His certainty overlaps with a challenge as he opens the door.

Be good, and you can come on my cock.

You shudder when his hand quickly presses against your lower back as you move past him, even the brief pressure burns hot through the fabric of your shirt, and then the door clicks shut behind you.

So, you have to wait. Again. And though you’re getting good at it now, and even knowing that it won’t be long, you’re not sure how you’re going to make it, your nerves already on fire as you part and watch him walk away.

AN: As always thank you so much for reading! 🥰 The next chapter will not be nearly as long a wait since about 75% of it was already written before I decided to split this on up! Will it be soon soon? No, but it won't be quite as long as this break as this was! Though to be fair I did write two other fics (and a drabble), flew to London, and dealt with a personal loss, and then the recovery from of all the that plus y'know, life in general. But we're finally here, and I'm glad that I made it and can finally share this with you all!

Full disclosure I am not someone who works with propane, and while much of the information is based what I've been able to find online, the accident itself is based on the events of a real explosion at a propane plant that happened in Canada several years ago. So things are likely not necessarily going to be 100% correct, but there are real variables here that would explain something like this happening.

I also want to mention that there's a line in that that was actually the first (filthy) line of not just this chapter, but also of this entire part two. I was only around halfway through part one and was just realizing there would even be a part two (the line did end up changing a bit as the story evolved, but it's still in here. 😏). Also I wrote it, closed the doc, then opened Instagram and immediately saw that Andy was coming to to Toronto. And instantly panicked. So there's that. 😂

#salvation is a deep dark well #bringin' home the rain part two #ulysses klaue #ulysses klaue x f reader #ulysses klaue x reader #ulysses klaue smut #reader insert #x reader #mcu #mcu fanfiction

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