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megamindsecretlair · 14 hours ago

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'Twas the Night

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. FLUFF, SMUT. Cursing, teasing, PIV, oral (male and female receiving), fingering (female receiving), minor OC lore (sorry!) Use of pet name. Mentions of the n-word, all consensual. Bad jokes, a different side to Terry. Sorry if I missed some. (Some meta jokes and winks and self-indulgent asf)

Summary: Treating yourself to a winter writing getaway, you are startled when the homeowner forgot to mention the 6’3 handyman that came by to fix things around the house. You find an unlikely friendship with the man, opening up about your romance novel. But when you confess that you need some inspiration, Terry is all too happy to be of service.

Word Count: 19,198k

AO3 Link

A/N: WHEW. Forgive me for being late, I was nervous about this one. It's self-indulgent like a MF. I love this Reader and Terry SOOOO bad. I had a hard time letting this one end. So I hope you enjoy it as much as I did! Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

Snow crunched under your tire as you pulled up to the quaint cabin at the top of the mountain. You leaned forward in your seat, looking up at the address to make sure it matched. It did. This was the place.

You were glad the outside matched the picture. You couldn’t count how many times you arrived at an Air B&B, just for the lister to pull some fuck shit.

For now, it looked like it lived up the hype. And you made it in time to watch the sun set over North Carolina a little later. You gripped the steering wheel and squealed with delight. This was perfect. Absolutely perfect.

You rolled your truck up to the small, attached garage and got out of the car. You went up the wooden steps to the wide porch that looked ripped from a magazine. There was a hunter green swing set with a pillowed pad on top of the bench. It even had cute throw pillows to match.

Per the owner’s instructions, you were able to easily find the key box disguised as a lantern. You unscrewed the false bottom, retrieved the key and garage door opener, and replaced the bottom.

You headed back to the awaiting truck, looking back at the cabin. You still couldn’t believe that this was all yours for the next two months while you worked on your latest novel. Your family was sad about you missing Christmas and New Year’s with them, but you had all grown out of the traditions. There was no point to be around just to be around.

By the end of this, you were going to have a rough draft to show your agent. That was a guarantee. You pulled your beanie down before getting back in your truck and pulled into the garage.

You entered and turned on lights as you went through the house, familiarizing yourself with the layout and decor. The owner went with a sage green theme, the cabinets in the kitchen painted to match the small fireplace in the living room adjacent to it. There was a throw blanket in the living room with the same color and you had a hunch that the bedroom would be much the same.

The cabin held two distinct buildings with a short hallway to connect it. The bedroom was modest, room enough to not feel claustrophobic but it wasn’t huge either. You checked and true to form, the bedroom held nothing electrical in it.

The king sized bed was almost too big for the room, but it really brought everything together. And yes, there was a sage green throw across the foot of the bed. The artwork on the walls were as non-offensive as possible, full of pictures of trees and animals.

You pulled your phone from your jacket pocket and started recording. “Hey ya’ll, I made it safe and sound. And it’s like the pictures so it’s not a scam! I am loving all these windows but ugh, can these people do anything other than white curtains, white sheets, and pastels? Like damn, I don’t know if I feel safe around all this white!”

You giggled as you went through the house, checking things out but mostly checking for anything weird or creepy. No cameras, no drilled holes, no false paintings. You showed a few things around the house and then flipped the camera towards you.

“I am signing off, my loves. I’ve got my inspection to do. Love you bunches, I hope to be two-hundred and seventy pages heavier after this!” You blew a kiss into the camera and then sent it to your friends and family.

Almost immediately, your mom started in on the issue with you being out in the mountains by yourself. Your sister piped in to remind your mom that you were grown, still in the state, and it was pretty sexist to say a woman needed a man to protect her all the time.

“Exactly,” you agreed out loud. You put up your phone and then really got to business. You took off your purple jacket and hung it on the coat rack by the door. You took off your purple hoodie and hung that up as well.

You put on your headphones and your favorite cleaning playlist, full of hip hop and R&B oldies. Then, you retrieved cleaning supplies from your car and went through the house with a fine-tooth comb.

Some may call you…odd. And that was fair. You knew how annoying you could be about cleanliness, but you just really wanted to avoid getting sick. You turned into an entire baby when you got sick and considering no one was around to give you said princess treatment, it was best to remain healthy.

That and people were just plain fucking nasty.

Luckily, it seemed like this cabin was professionally cleaned. You mostly sanitized every surface you could find, dancing and shaking your booty to the songs as they came on. “Never Too Much” by Luther Vandross came on while you were mopping the kitchen.

You danced around the small kitchen in your mop slippers, singing into the mop handle as if it were a microphone. You sang along with Luther at the top of your lungs, badly, and let the song keep you energized.

You headed to the bedroom with a black light to check over the sheets and mattress. There were a few specks of mysterious origins which was to be expected, but the mattress was fresh. The sheets were clean as well, but you weren’t going to hop in someone else’s sheets anyway.

You hauled deep rose bedding into the room from your car and made up the bed how you liked. You brought your own pillows as well, fluffing it on top. Now the space was starting to feel comfortable. Your anxiety lowered inch by smooth inch.

You looked around the bedroom, scanning for anything you might have missed. Your eyes caught on the window, on the mix of oranges and pinks.

“Shit!” You screamed as you tore through the house, towards the kitchen, and made you a quick cup of tea. You doctored it how you liked and then added cold water. You took the mug and your own blanket outside to the back porch.

The owner had built another world in the backyard. The patio was covered with an awning that connected to the house. There were egg chairs and a sofa set up around a stylish oak table. Plants sat in planters around the area and there was a rug underneath the table. Fairy lights were strewn about giving the space a warm glow.

“Oh fuck yessss,” you groaned, sitting down in the comfy egg chair and looked out over the open back yard. The grass was vividly green, swaying slightly with the light breeze. Woods encroached the perimeter, thick with leaves and underbrush. Anything could be out there, adding to the mystery and awe it inspired.

You draped the throw around your shoulders and then sat in silence, watching the sunset. Soft blues were chased out of the sky by pinks, oranges, and the softest purples blending into the pitch black sky.

Stars winked on as if there were tiny caretakers igniting each one. Your mind spun with idea after idea, but these you would let pass. Not everything had to be about writing. Some things just needed to be experienced.

The tea kept you warm as the temperature dropped more and more. When your nose got too cold and you sniffed one too many times, you finally packed it in and went back to cleaning. Your playlist kept you upbeat as you cleaned out the bathroom.

Done with everything, you finally felt comfortable enough to shower. Scrubbing the day away with your favorite soap nearly made you ascend to another plane. You giggled to yourself as your mind spun once more, crafting a whole silly scenario just because.

You sighed. You needed a man. Well, okay, ‘needed’ was a strong word. But you were giving up comedy gold over here. There should be someone around to witness it! Then again, did you really want to explain your quirks to someone?

You shook your head. You were not here for all of that. You were here to get some much needed writing done away from your family and friends. You knew they meant well, but it was almost pathological with the way they relied so heavily on you.

As much you knew that they loved you, you also wondered if they even saw you as a human being with your own interests. They knew you needed to write and yet they came bursting in anyway, calling, texting, bugging to no end. You were tired of explaining that you weren’t rejecting them, you just needed to focus on writing.

Either they truly didn’t get it or they willfully ignored your needs. And you just didn’t have time for that. When your editor, Vanessa, suggested that you made enough money now that a writing retreat was well within your budget, it was like a wake up call.

Of course. The solution was right there. You immediately hopped on Google to determine which place called to you more. You always wanted a winter writing escape and a few keystrokes later, you were on your way with your family scratching their heads.

You dried yourself off in the bathroom and lotioned yourself up. You left the bathroom in a cloud of scented steam. You opted for a pair of panties and an oversized red T-shirt that reached down to your knees. The place had central heating but you didn’t want to turn it up too much. Just enough to warm the wooden flooring.

You spent the next hour making tacos, the heavenly aroma of meat and salsa making your mouth water. You cleaned as you went, not wanting to spend the next morning doing dishes. The cabinet below the sink squeaked and you debated telling Mr. Omar about it. It was something small but if you were going to be there for a while, you’d rather not deal with the inconvenience. Ehh, it was small. No need to bother the man for that.

All done, you brought your plate to the living room and camped out, finding something to watch. You had been hearing so much about that show called Rivals on Hulu so you decided to watch it. When the first episode started, you screeched at the TV. It literally opened with someone joining the Mile High Club.

For the rest of the night, you relaxed and zoned out. It was hard for you to truly relax, to truly turn your brain off and just enjoy something. But practice made perfect, so practice you will.

When you yawned for the fifth time in two minutes, you finally gave up the ghost. You turned everything off and put up the food you made. Then you turned everything off as you headed down the short hallway to the bedroom.

It was pitch black inside. Perfect. You only used your bedroom for sleeping and fucking. It signaled to your body that enough was truly enough. No distractions, no connections, nothing to prevent your body from sinking into sleep. And it worked every time.

You crawled into the comfy bed, soothed by the familiar smell of your bedsheets. Your brain blissfully shut up and you fell into a lovely, dream-filled sleep.

You woke up naturally early in the morning. The white curtains in this room were heavier than what was in the rest of the house, allowing limited lighting to reach the bed. Plus, the sun didn’t shine on this side so the added shade soothed your overworked eyes as soon as you got up.

This…you sighed. This was what you needed. You felt so good having true silence for once. No one around, no one bugging you, no one bringing you into their drama, no one leaning on you, no one calling you. It got to the point where you were beginning to hate the sound of your name. Too many people used it to demand your attention, demand your time, and then curse you in the same breath when you retreated and wanted to recharge your mental batteries.

This would likely have to become a tradition. From now on, you would have to choose an Air B&B to get the first draft over with. At least after that, you had the idea out of your head and you could cobble it together among the noise of your demanding family. The brainstorming stage was the most crucial; you could not afford distractions.

You were itching to write but you knew that you needed to eat something first. You got up from bed, scratching beneath your bonnet as you picked your way down the short hallway to the other side of the house.

A heavy boot clanged on something metal, drawing your attention to the kitchen where a tall man dug through your cabinets. You screamed, hopping in place from foot to foot. The man turned around with a jump revealing…a pretty face.

You ran towards the fireplace and grabbed a poker, brandishing it like a spear. “Who the fuck are you?!” You demanded, pulling your shirt down. Fuck. You should’ve worn pants. Well, no, fuck that, he shouldn’t be in your place!

The man lifted his hands and revealed a screwdriver in his hand. “Wait, hol’ on,” he said. His deep voice was unexpected, sounding like a crack of fire on a cold, wintery night.

You moved the poker around in the air, looking around for any other men that may be lurking. The cabin was small enough, the kitchen not too far from the living room. But, besides the bathroom, you could see everything at a glance. You looked out of the windows anyway, searching for any other cars or trucks outside.

“I’m Mr. Omar’s handyman. He asked me to fix the cabinet,” the man said. His scruffy facial hair framed his symmetrical face and hid his lush lips. His eyes were intense, the color of a storm right as it kissed the ocean, and his eyebrows arched severely. He was unreal. But hot or not, he was still a stranger.

His eyes drew down to your legs and you tugged on your shirt as if you could conjure more material. “You think I’m going to buy that? What are you really doing here? You read his mail?” You asked.

You hadn’t seen any mail laying around the place when you cleaned the day before, but that didn’t mean anything. Maybe he dug through the trash or hacked Mr. Omar’s emails.

The man sighed and shook his head. “You watch too much TV,” he said.

“And you need to answer my questions. Who the hell are you?” You asked.

The man kept his hands up but lowered his elbows. “I’m the handyman,” he said, putting emphasis on the word as if that helped. “Terry.”

You squinted at him as you looked around the living room for your phone. You had plugged it in before you went to sleep, but it was hard to look for it and keep an eye on the man.

He watched you and tilted his head. You scowled. Was he just humoring you? If that motherfucker tried anything, he’d lose one of those perfectly sculpted eyes.

You snatched your phone from the end table besides the couch. You held the poker up as a deterrent but the man - “Terry” - didn’t move. He watched you, hands up, calm as a cucumber. If he was a thief or a rapist, he was the worst one you’d ever seen. Or maybe he was the smartest.

You sized him up as you dialed the homeowner’s phone number. “We’re gonna see about you, nigga,” you said. You brought the phone to your ear as Terry smirked.

“I’d believe that more if your voice wasn’t so squeaky,” he said.

“I do not have a squeaky voice!” You yelled.

Terry smirked again, tilting his head as if you just proved his point. “Can I put my hands down?”

“No,” you said. Mr. Omar didn’t answer on the first ring so you tried again.

“Just like a chipmunk,” Terry said. Terry sighed and then leaned against the nearest sink, making you look at the full length of him. He wore dark wash jeans, heavy tan boots, and a black hoodie. He also wore a cream colored beanie pulled low over his head. It ought to be a damn sin to be so fine.

“Hello?” Mr. Omar’s accented voice came on the line. The subtle African pronunciations made you curious about where he was from but you were too chicken to ask.

“Mr. Omar! There is a man in the rental claiming to be your ‘handyman’,” you said, managing to give Terry air quotes around the poker.

Terry smirked and licked his lips, drawing attention to them. They were so pink and big. The more you paid attention to his features, the more striking he became. He looked like a painting made real. Or like one of those artist renditions of Egyptian royalty.

“Ah yes, Terry-Terry. Good man,” Mr. Omar said.

You sighed and turned your head. “What does he look like then?” You asked.

The poker grew heavier now that Mr. Omar vouched for the man. However, you weren’t ready to lower it just yet.

“Tall and like Mufasa,” Mr. Omar said.

You snapped your eyes to Terry, comparing him to a lion. Nah, he was more like a Scar to be honest. But still, the image wouldn’t leave your mind and your thighs responded, tingling with awareness.

You scowled at Terry who pressed his lips together. “Can I lower them now?” He asked, amusement written all over his face.

“Where’s your ID?” You asked.

Terry sighed. “I’m not handing over my ID to a chipmunk,” he said.

You squeaked with an indignant huff and Terry shrugged his shoulders. “Is that all you need?” Mr. Omar asked.

“Why didn’t you tell me he was coming by?” You asked. You lowered the poker down by your waist, business end sticking out in case this Terry character wanted to try you.

“Forgive me, my memory. I’m an old man,” he said. You rolled your eyes. He was far from an old man, in his early fifties and looked young enough to be a senior at college. The man kept himself fit and in shape, telling you all about his fitness journey during the many conversations you had about the property.

“Right. Thanks, Mr. Omar,” you grumbled and hung up with him. Okay, so the man was legit. But that didn’t explain why he didn’t ring the doorbell.

“I didn’t know anyone was here, I’m sorry. Just let me fix a few things on my list and I’ll be out your hair,” he said.

“Can’t you come back when I’m…” you trailed off and clicked your mouth shut. You were going to tell him to come back when your getaway was over but he didn’t need to know your timeline. He could swing back around and murk your ass.

“When you’re done gathering nuts to hibernate?” He asked.

“Fuck you, I’m not a chipmunk,” you said, smiling despite yourself.

Terry lowered his arms and then made a show of putting the screwdriver down. “Do I get to know your name?” He asked.

You debated giving him even that much, but the manners that were drilled into you refused to let you be rude. You tugged on your shirt and his eyes followed the motion. His focus was…unnerving. You cleared your throat and told him your name. He repeated it one more time and you nodded, a tingle going up your spine at the way he rolled the syllables around with that slight Carolina accent.

“Nice to meet you. Now that we’re good, can you point that somewhere else?” He asked.

You sighed and rolled your eyes. “Like you were even scared of it,” you said. You placed the poker down on the coffee table. The metal clinked against the glass top but your eyes were glued to Terry’s.

Terry chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. “You and your mouseketeers are s’posed to be good at fencing,” he said.

“You know what! You get on my damn nerves!” You said and laughed, giving in to his bad jokes.

“Can I do my job?” He asked.

You were still wary about him being in the house while you were practically naked. You glanced away from him, looking at how far the bedroom was. “How many things do you have to do?” You asked.

“Mr. Omar left me a honey-do,” he said.

You sighed. You didn’t like this one bit. You hadn’t planned on having a visitor while you got into the rhythm of things. But you also didn’t want this man to come back. Though…that wouldn’t totally be the worst thing.

You licked your lips and looked between him and the bedroom. You didn’t want to linger on him but fuck, it was like one look wasn’t enough. Every time you looked at him, you noticed something different about him.

“Tell you what. I’ll spread it out. I’ll only do a few things at a time. Deal?” He asked. He held out his hand, beckoning you to come closer. That was how all horror movies started. The devil himself smirked at you and you scowled, understanding exactly how Eve broke. Had you been her, you wouldn’t have stopped at just the apple.

“Deal, I guess,” you said.

Terry lowered his hand and nodded. “Deal. You won’t even know I’m here,” he said.

Riiiiight. “Just…stay out here. I hear a boot coming down the hall and it’s game over,” you said.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, making his accent thicker. The mischief in his eyes made you scowl harder. But his eyes dropped lower and lower and you pulled on your shirt.

You made a beeline to your room, slammed the door shut, and sighed heavily. This was unreal. Absolutely unreal.

You grabbed the nearest pair of sweatpants, yanked it on, and then took a few more deep breaths. You listened for any sense of movement, any creak of the floorboards, or sound of breathing. When there wasn’t any, you cracked open the door.

You headed towards the kitchen to find Terry exactly where you left him, bent over the cabinet as he fixed the hinge. At your approach, he stopped and looked sideways at you. His side profile was lethal, jawline sharp enough to cut glass.

Your belly flipped and you held it like it was a traitor. As if it could give you away. You breezed past him and grabbed your laptop off of the kitchen island, clutching it to your chest as you carried it to the living room and curled up in the corner of the couch.

From this angle, Terry couldn’t sneak behind you and you had a full view of him as he worked. You opened your laptop and opened up your notes for your latest novel. You had the major plot ideas down but you needed to flesh in your characters.

As you researched, adding pins on Pinterest for inspiration, you couldn’t forget that Terry was there no matter what else you did.

He moved with grace like he was completely in tune with his body. The delicate way he held and used the tools drew your attention to his long, thick fingers. Every so often, his tongue stuck out of his mouth as he worked, screwing the bolt down or digging for another screw. He was a distraction and a half.

“You need a picture?”

You gasped as you blinked, coming back to reality. Terry looked sideways at you, his eyes low and sleepy-like.

Wow, your thoughts were not holy. You mentally slapped some sense into yourself. This man was a stranger. A very fine, gorgeous stranger, but an hour ago, you thought he was going to kill you. Be so real right now.

“What?” You asked.

“You were staring,” he said.

“Was not,” you said and sat back on the couch.

“Was to,” he said, testing the cabinet by swinging it back and forth. It didn’t squeak so Terry dropped into a squat to investigate the cabinet below the sink. The stretch of the squat revealed a gorgeous ass to match.

That was it. The man wasn’t real. He had to be conjured from God’s own imagination. God was just showing out when he made Terry and it wasn’t fair. All that fine piece of meat…

Speaking of, you added “piece of meat” under your male character’s profile in your notes. “For your nosy information, staring off into the distance is part of my process. If you happen to step into my line of sight, that’s on you,” you said.

“That right?” He asked and you could hear the humor in his deep voice.

“Uh-huh,” you said. You typed a few more notes, taking in tiny details about Terry. The slope of his shoulders. The curve of his brow. His high cheekbones. Your male character came together more quickly in your mind now that you had a model to work off of.

The cabinet squeaked, breaking you of your thoughts. “It’s singing the song of your people, you know,” Terry said.

You sucked your teeth and Terry chuckled. “Me and you are going to fight,” you said.

“I got a ladder if you want to use it,” he said.

You rolled your eyes and pinched your lips together. He was really going to make you scream. “Are you always this annoying?” You asked.

“I can be worse,” he said.

You stared off into an invisible camera. You could hear the laugh track now. You shook your head and decided to ignore his shenanigans. You fell into a comfortable silence somehow, typing away as more and more ideas came to you. It was no longer weird that there was a strange man in the cabin. Despite being so big, he had an uncanny ability to take up as little space as possible.

“What are you working on? You a writer or somethin’?” He asked.

“Yeah, what gave me away?” You asked.

“The laptop,” he said.

You sucked your teeth and hid your smile behind your hands, pretending like you were suffering the sting of a thousand cuts. Terry chuckled. “I know you want to laugh,” he said.

“Do not,” you said and moved your hands, settling on a smile. That was all his fine ass deserved.

“You write anything I may have read?” He asked. The hinge on the cabinet knocked against the wood as Terry pried it off with the screwdriver. His hands really were huge and you briefly wondered what it’d feel like wrapped around your ass.

You pressed your thighs together and adjusted yourself on the couch. This man was proving dangerous afterall. One meeting with him and you were picturing disgusting scenarios to write.

“Umm, no, my books wouldn’t be your speed,” you said.

“I like nature though. I’m sure a chipmunk survival guide would be right up my alley,” he said.

“The door is right there,” you said, chuckling. He truly got on your damn nerves. But you wanted to hear more. His voice was smooth and deep, a weakness for sure. Your voice kink was in hyperdrive, teasing out every way he sounded out words and syllables to be replayed later in your mind.

“C’mon, what do you write?” He asked. He glanced at you briefly before returning to replacing the hinge. He dropped to his knees as he worked, putting him in a position to arch his back.

Mm, mm, mm. You eye-fucked him as he leaned forward, holding the hinge in place while he screwed in the first screw. He leaned back to dig into the tool box by his feet and you looked away, heat flashing over your skin.

You did not know this man. You did not know this man. You did not –

“Not gon’ tell me?” He asked.

“What happened to not knowing you were even there?” You asked. He was worse than your folks at home. If you wanted to be harassed, you would have saved yourself the money.

“You’re the one staring,” he said.

You took a deep breath to keep from cussing. Maybe it was his face. Maybe he was too pretty to yell at. Or maybe he was so pretty it spurned you to want to hit him. Because as much as you wanted to smack him, you wanted to smack his ass even more.

Sweet fuck you needed to get laid. Maybe you’d redownload that dating app your friends made you download after your last book. You deleted it because apparently, guys took offense when all you wanted was sex from them.

“I write books,” you said, chickening out at the last minute. It wasn’t exactly easy to tell people that you wrote explicit shifter romances. Urban fantasy settings let you have the best of both worlds. Modern technology combined with fantasy and magic, blended together, and created something that scratched all of your itches.

“What kind of books?” He asked.

“Paperbacks,” you said.

Terry chuckled and shook his head. “If you don’t say, I’m going to start guessing,” he said.

You groaned and Terry chuckled at your theatrics. You held up your hand. “Please, spare me. If you must know, I write romance novels,” you said.

“Romance novels…like the ones where the guys have a forty inch dick, eight feet tall, and long flowing red hair?” Terry asked.

You howled with mirth as that image was now seared into your brain. “Ew, yuck! Why! Why would you make me picture that?” You asked when you had enough air in your lungs to breathe.

“I’m just shooting the shit. That’s wassup though,” he said.

“Thank you,” you said slowly, full suspicion. Terry chuckled but didn’t say anything further as he continued working on the cabinets.

You went back to your brainstorming, filling in details about your female main character. You searched for her fatal flaw, the lie she told herself in order to survive before the meet cute with the main male character.

You sighed. You ought to give them names. But you were not prepared to deal with the ads on Nameberry or clicking endlessly on name generators. But you couldn’t very well keep calling them ‘female main character’ and ‘male main character’.

You brought up Nameberry first in the hopes that you’d find something quicker using the alphabet lists. A Q name would be cute. Qianna? Ugh, there weren’t many cute Q names.

“I didn’t know writing could be so hard core,” Terry said.

You looked at him over the top of your laptop with a scowl. “Are you almost done? You’re stinking up the place,” you said.

Terry chuckled and shook his head. “I’ll finish out the cabinets and come by tomorrow for the shower and air filters,” he said.

“What’s wrong with the shower?” You asked. The way he said it…he could make even the most innocent words sound naughty. Because now, you were thinking of the shower. And him in the shower. And all those suds dripping down his naked body…

“Water bill is going up. So Mr. Omar wants me to check for a leak,” he said.

You hadn’t noticed anything but you weren’t a professional handyman either. “How’d you come to be here, Terry?” You asked.

Terry slanted his eyes towards you. “Curious about me?” He asked.

You rolled your eyes. “I could go back to ignoring you,” you said.

“I’d believe that if you weren’t staring so much.”

You took a deep breath and Terry waved you off. “I’ll stop. I got into some deep shit a year back. I wanted to take my mind off it by being as busy as possible. Working with my hands relaxes my mind,” he said.

You nodded. You could respect that. “You live around here?”

“Mr. Omar has another spot up the ways. I work on his properties and I get to stay for free,” he responded.

You sighed wistfully. The things you would do to be able to have an arrangement like that. Only without the handyman part, because fuuuuuck that. “Your family doesn’t miss you?” You asked.

Terry took a measured breath and paused briefly inworking. He then screwed in the final screw and tested the cabinet door, no squeak to be found. “Naw. Not really,” he said quietly.

Duly noted. Shutting up. This was why you weren’t that social. You had a particular knack for picking up on shit people didn’t want to discuss. You hid behind your laptop screen, hunting for more names for your main characters.

Gabrielle was always a cute girl name to you. Now for the perfect boy name…Rashad…Theo…Wesley? Wesley and Gabrielle? That sounded kind of cute together. You put it on the list of maybes and continued hunting for different pairs just in case. Though each one you found didn’t spark as much interest as Wesley and Gabrielle.

“I’m done for the day. In case you had a change of heart,” Terry said.

“Nice try. I didn’t get any work done because of you,” you said.

Terry smirked, eyes crinkling in the corners. “Then my job’s really done,” he said.

You groaned playfully and put your laptop down on the coffee table. You had pants on now but you still felt exposed. Like you were still standing there half-naked. Terry’s eyes tracked down your body as if he recalled your bare legs as well.

You weren’t stupid. You knew he had a passing interest. But what man wouldn’t after living up in the mountains of North Carolina? You doubted he was starving for female attention and you had a book to finish, come hell or high water. Pretty distractions like him did you no justice.

You’d just have to pull out ole reliable, Laz Alonso. Thinking of that man already had you hot and bothered and the vibrator you brought with you would have to be more than sufficient to get you through the winter.

You approached Terry cautiously as he packed away his tools. You openly stared at his backside as he closed the tool box and stood up to his full height. He was so damn tall. Guys like him just didn’t exist in real life. It wasn’t fair.

Terry walked to the front door ahead of you. You kept some distance, not wanting to give him a chance to get too close. Your alarms were still on high alert though he did a good job of putting you at ease.

As he crossed the threshold, your stomach rumbled. Loudly. In all the excitement and hubbub, you forgot to grab food. Terry turned to the sound, stopping a few feet from the front door.

“There’s a bar down the mountain if you ever want to get out the house,” he said.

You pinched your lips. “That doesn’t sound too bad. But maybe not today,” you said and leaned against the door jam. The cold air blew into the warm house, instantly raising goosebumps on your arms.

Terry nodded. “You change your mind, let me know,” he said. “And if you notice anything that needs fixing, definitely let me know.”

You smiled. The thoughts he conjured…”Thanks, I truly appreciate it. But how would I let you know?”

Terry chuckled. He nodded towards the kitchen. “I left my number on the fridge. Need anything, just call.”

You glanced back towards the fridge and saw a few sticky notes on it. You turned to him and nodded. “I’m glad you turned out to not be a creep.”

Terry nodded. “I’m glad you take your safety seriously. Most people don’t. Lock up after me,” he said.

“Yes, sir,” you said, deepening your voice.

Terry huffed a laugh and shook his head. “Can’t hide that voice, sorry,” he said.

“Shut up! And get home safely, Terry,” you said.

Terry took the steps down fast and then spun around to walk backwards. “Worried about me, chipmunk?”

You rolled your eyes. “No, I’d rather not explain to Mr. Omar why his handyman couldn’t finish around the house,” you called out to him, raising your voice the further away he walked.

He waved to you, making it to his truck parked a ways in front of the front door. It was a big blue truck with a larger bed than most you’ve seen. It suited him though. And his rugged appearance. He didn’t strike you as the type to drive a luxury SUV and complain about his shoes getting soaked through from the snow.

You went back into the warm house, shut the door, and locked it behind you. You tapped on it once, turning away with a smile. Now…down to real business.

True to his word, Terry came over nearly every day for the next two weeks fixing things around the house. He managed to find a way to annoy the ever loving hell out of you, but he also made you laugh so hard, you nearly snorted tea out of your nose.

You found inspiration with the little things he did or said. Until “Wesley”, your male main character, started to move and sound like Terry in your mind. You would feel bad, except there was no chance in hell Terry would ever read this book. Ever.

The beginning came together smoothly in your mind. Wesley, the too-serious wolf shifter investigator, was married to his work, only going home long enough to eat, shower, and sleep. Gabrielle, the famous tech genius by day, was also a major thief by night. And as a surprise to no one, Wesley didn’t know he was investigating Gabrielle’s latest crime, the theft of a magic orb from a private collection.

Now…where could they bump into each other… a blind date sounded interesting to you but nothing too easy. Nothing too cliche. Hmm…grocery store? She stumbles upon him after shift? Maybe it’s a full moon and he protects her?

You groaned and backspaced. You were thinking too hard on this one. This one wasn’t coming together in your mind. You looked back over your character descriptions; maybe there was something there to spark interest.

Heavy boots stomped down the hallway from the bedroom as Terry had taken a look at the closet door. So many broken hinges. What were people renting this house for? Parties where they pretended to be animals, swinging from the ceiling?

You snorted at your own joke just as Terry entered the living room. You looked at him and stopped laughing but Terry raised an eyebrow. “Don’t stop on my account,” he said.

He chose a dark gray hoodie this time, the same cream colored beanie, and dark jeans. His toolbox was held loosely in his big hands, and your body flushed with heat. Lost in the brainstorming fog, you hadn’t had a chance to play with Laz and your body reminded you of that. Painfully.

“All done in the bedroom?” You asked.

Terry eyed you and you blinked innocently at him. Even as his eyes made your pussy flutter. Down girl, down girl, DOWN girl…

“Done. Unless you found something I need to fix?” He asked.

You squinted at him but for once, his face was unreadable. You couldn’t tell if that was supposed to be a double entendre or not. Maybe you were just a horny mess. You’d have to look at your period tracker to see if you were ovulating. Because at the moment, you were one step away from asking that man to fix your dripping pussy.

“No, no, no, no. All good,” you muttered. If you couldn’t get some, then at least you could write the filthiest things for Wesley and Gabrielle. As soon as you figured out how they meet.

Terry moved into the kitchen, setting his toolbox down. “I’ll check the windows. There’s a storm moving up here in a week or so. You good on firewood?” He asked.

“I can’t just use the heater?” You asked.

“What if the power goes out?” He asked.

“That really happens? Or are you trying to scare me?” You asked. Well damn. You didn’t have the power going out on your list of tragedies that could happen while you were out here. You knew it could happen but it was rare that you experienced it. One of the pitfalls of staying in someone else’s place. You didn’t have all of your emergency kits.

There was one in your rental car but that was inadequate as hell. You sighed. Fuck. You were going to have to venture into town anyway. You glanced at your laptop. You had the major story beats fleshed out, but filling in the rest was giving you a headache behind your eye.

Still, you itched to keep going after it with a hammer. You wanted to keep pushing yourself and see if you couldn’t solve your problem. It was like you just weren’t feeling this one for some reason, despite being overjoyed at the sexy idea.

“Not trying to scare you,” he promised.

You pouted. “I haven’t tried lighting a fire yet. So I don’t know about the firewood,” you said, feeling like you were five years old for not checking something so crucial. But! You would give yourself grace. You didn’t know before but now you’d make it a point to check everything before venturing off to la la land in your head.

Terry nodded. “I’ll check then,” he said.

“Thank you. Really,” you said.

“My pleasure, chipmunk,” he said with a chuckle.

“You get on my damn nerves!” You yelled after him as he left the house with a booming chuckle. You shook your head as you waited for him to return.

Though this was meant to be a retreat for you, to explore on your own without the watchful eye of your family, you kind of liked having Terry around. He managed to pull you from your spiraling about your writing in the nick of time. You were able to return to your novel with a second wave of inspiration.

But this meet cute was kicking your Black ass. Like this should have been the easiest part. But it was often the easiest parts that tripped you up the most.

Terry reentered the house, kicking his shoes on the mat before stepping inside. The door banged shut behind him, a strong wind passing over you before dispersing in the warm house.

“Firewood’s low. After it thaws a bit, I’ll chop more,” he said.

Mmm, Terry…chopping wood…mm, mm, mm. You had to go on a date with Laz tonight. Maybe a little post nut clarity would work in your favor.

“Thanks. Is there anything I can get you from the store? I’ll need to head down the mountain after all,” you said.

“Road may be slippery right now. You’d be better off going tomorrow,” he said. He pulled his toolbox closer and flipped it open.

You placed your laptop on the coffee table in front of you and then stood up, letting your inside throw blanket slip from your shoulders. You stretched, your limbs and back popping in some areas as you twisted one way and then another.

You crossed closer to him, going towards the kitchen for a cup of tea. If you were going to brave the outside world, you’d need a little help. As the kettle warmed up on the counter, you faced Terry and leaned against the edge.

How to put this without sounding batshit crazy? “It’s important for me to go today,” you said. “Preferably before the sun goes down.”

Terry scrunched up his face. “Is there a special vampire version of chipmunks I don’t know about?”

“You get on my nerves!” You said and giggled. Terry smirked with you as you giggled and you slowly quieted down. You cleared your throat. “No, it’s just important. I do take my safety seriously. Maybe more so than most.”

Terry eyed you with those beautiful eyes of his before nodding. “Alright, I’ll take you,” he said.

“Wait, what? No, no, no, that’s not what I meant. I can get down myself,” you said.

“No one said you couldn’t. But the roads really can get slippery if you don’t know where to look. The snow doesn’t stick to the ground like it used to and it can make driving those twisting roads more dangerous.”

You put your hands on your hips and stepped closer, nothing but the narrow corner of the kitchen island between you. “I don’t need a babysitter, Terry,” you said.

Terry held up his hands. “I’m not a babysitter. I’m a handyman,” he said.

You pinched your lips together to keep from smiling. He was truly going to make you put him through the wall.

“I wouldn’t feel right letting you go down the mountain by yourself. Not that you’re not capable. But because the roads really are that dangerous. And I’d rather not have to come dig your ass out of a ditch,” he said.

“Ouch,” you said, picturing just that scenario. The roads seemed like a twisty maze, full of sharp corners and narrow lanes. Driving up when the roads were clear in the morning hadn’t been that much of a hassle but you weren’t too sure about going back down. It was why you tried to bring as much stuff with you as you could, to avoid that exact circumstance.

“Go get dressed,” he said, his voice deep and commanding.

You prickled. “Don’t tell me what to do,” you said. Did he hear the breathiness in your voice? Because holy hell. That voice needed to boss you around more often.

Terry lifted his sleeve to look at his watch. “Daylight’s wasting,” he said.

You scowled. “I’m getting dressed because I decided to and because I concede that I don’t know these roads that well. Not because you told me to,” you said.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, eyes dancing with mischief. Ugh. You bet he ran his mama ragged growing up.

The kettle clicked as it was done, the boiling water settling down. You poured a mug full and took it with you to the bedroom and sipped it while you got dressed.

You opted for a simple pair of jeans, boots, and your favorite purple hoodie. You didn’t know how Terry didn’t walk around with a jacket as well. Every bite of air you felt outside chilled you down to the bone.

Leaving your bedroom, Terry eyed you up and down before jerking his head for you to follow. You locked the door behind you and then followed Terry to his truck. Your combined footsteps crunched on the snow underfoot, leaving footprints that quickly disappeared in the gentle snowfall.

You looked up towards the sky, grinning at the overcast sky. Flurries floated down, landing on your cheeks, eyelashes, and lips. You licked away a snowflake that landed on you and looked towards Terry, smiling softly at you.

“You must think I’m silly,” you said.

“Not what I’m thinking,” he said. You stared but he didn’t say anything more. He just smirked and held open the passenger door for you. The truck was bigger up close and you had a hard time holding onto the door and climbing in.

“Here,” Terry said, gently sliding his hands around your waist. You looked over your shoulder at him. He was close enough to see how pretty and long his eyelashes were. It wasn’t fair that he was pretty down to the individual hairs on his lashes.

His big hands felt like heaven on your hips as he helped you lift into his truck. His hands slid from your waist and you missed the heat of it instantly. Terry cleared his throat and then closed the door.

You eyed him as he rounded the front of his truck, climbed in, and started the car. He turned the heater on full blast and before long, you were headed down the mountain. The type of road you were on was paved and everything, but every so often, you’d hit a patch of woods on the side of the road and there were guard rails to prevent you from toppling over.

Terry took the turns slowly, but expertly. Your eyes were drawn to his hands every time the steering wheel slipped through his fingers while he turned. He kept his nails trimmed and clean, causing you to bite your lip, thinking of him fingering you.

No, you stop that, you chastised yourself. He was not a piece of meat. But sweet fuck, the packaging was pretty.

“How’s the writing going?” Terry asked.

“Huh?” You asked. You heard him, you just needed more time to let your brain get off nasty mode. Though, who were you kidding? It stayed nasty.

Terry repeated his question. He took a long turn that caused you to lean against your seatbelt. It dug across your chest and you moved it to a more comfortable spot.

“Good. I think. I can never tell. But I’m still trying to figure out how the characters meet,” you said.

“It’s that important?” He asked.

You nodded, though he didn’t see because he was being a good driver. He kept his eyes faced forward, driving carefully down the road. Every so often, the woods would break and there would be someone’s property, full of horses or cows. You marveled at a large brown cow hanging out just because.

“The meet cute is one of the most important parts of the book. It sets the tone for the relationship,” you said.

“Yeah? How so?” He asked.

“Are you sure you want to hear about all this? You don’t have to be polite,” you said, giving him an easy out.

“I like listening to you,” he said.

Oh. You smiled, looking down at your hands in your lap. You launched into the nitty gritty of romance writing. The less glamorous side of it. It took you a long time to learn when to linger, when to skip ahead, and when to let the characters give into the chemistry. You weren’t always sure you pulled it off, but your sales were steady so you’d take it.

Terry listened the entire time, asking more and more questions to feed his curiosity. He still threw in teases about your voice, the subject matter, and your little smut buddies, your writing group that talked about sex all day long.

He pulled the truck into a plaza with a few different stores spread out. “You’re gonna tell me guys don’t talk about sex all day? Why’s it a problem when women do it?”

Terry pulled into an available parking spot and turned the car off. The chill from outside immediately crept in, forcing the warm air to evaporate. “Sure, but we don’t write it down or send porn to each other,” he said.

“We do not send porn!” You said. Liar, liar. You had sent a porn link to your group chat earlier to discuss the inspo for Wesley.

Terry gave you an incredulous look before getting out of the truck. Your heartbeat sped up as he walked around to your side. His hands would be on you again. You liked it. Perhaps too much, because when he opened the door, you jumped.

“You good?” He asked.

You nodded, not trusting your voice. Terry steadied you by the waist as you climbed out of his massive truck. When he set you on the ground, your hands lingered on his forearms. Realizing you were holding on, you hummed and stepped away with a smile.

You went shopping, picking up essentials for a quick emergency kit. Flashlight with extra batteries, bottled water, granola bars with a long shelf life, back up portable chargers for your phone, extra over the counter meds, first aid kit, whistle, Lysol wipes, hand sanitizer, paper soap, and matches.

Terry’s eyebrows rose with each new item you picked up, working off your memory of your home and work kits. So you liked to be prepared, so what. You were only mildly embarrassed as he walked with you down each aisle, adding in things you hadn’t thought of for snow weather. Extra thick socks, thermals, extra scarf and beanie. Just in case.

“Thank you, Terry, really,” you said as Terry helped put the items in the bed of his truck.

“You can thank me by swinging by the bar with me. I’m pretty hungry. You?” He asked.

You grinned. “Was this your plan all along?” You asked.

“Maybe,” he said and smirked. Ugh. He was too fucking pretty. It made you sick really. Sick with fucking lust. Maybe a drink was just what the doctor ordered.

“Fine. But you could have just asked, you know,” you said.

“I know.” After he helped you in the car, he made the short trip to the bar he told you about.

The parking lot was large but mostly empty. It was nearing the evening and the temperature dropped bit by bit, your breath escaping in clouds. Terry escorted you up the long wooden stairs towards the earthy bar.

Inside, the place was bigger than you expected with two distinct sections. On the right, there were dining tables set up for bigger groups. Some of those tables were filled up and there were TVs stationed around turned to various games.

Terry said hello to the staff as he escorted you to the left, where the main bar was set up. The tables on this side sat higher off the ground and it had bar stools pushed close to the table. There was a door that led out onto a patio for outside dining but no one sat outside at the moment.

Terry pulled out a bar stool for you and helped you climb on. He effortlessly sat, his long legs having no trouble touching the ground. Bastard.

The bartender, introduced as Adam, came around to take your drink orders. “I am a cider girlie. What’s good?” You asked Adam.

Adam stroked his silky salt and pepper beard and looked behind him. “We got a few things. How you feel about blueberry?”

“Blueberry cider?” You asked.

Adam grinned. “If you don’t like it, it’s on the house,” he said. Adam leaned forward on the bar top and you smiled back. Oh, he was adorable.

Terry cleared his throat. “How’s Melissa?” Terry asked, bringing a beer to his lips and sipping.

Adam’s smile didn’t waver. “She left me. I’m all alone in my modest, but spacious house,” Adam said, never taking his eyes from you.

You giggled and waved him off. “Oh stop!” You said.

“With a beautiful woman like you, how can I?” Adam asked.

Terry made a sound that sounded suspiciously like a growl. You side eyed him as he shared a glance with Adam. Adam knocked on the bar top with a grin and then moved away to grab you a blueberry cider. He popped the top for you and waited for you to take a sip.

It was…actually delicious. You nodded. “Okay, not bad, Adam,” you said.

Adam’s permanent grin spread wider. “I aim to please,” he said.

You hid your giggle behind your hand and shook your head. “Did Melissa really leave you?” You asked.

Adam groaned and looked at Terry. “Thanks, T. Yes, she really did. But only to visit her parents. I still needed to work,” Adam said.

“Aw, why’d you get stuck with holiday duty? You piss off the boss?”

“He is the boss,” Terry grumbled.

You smiled at him. These two. “I bet ya’ll get into so much trouble together,” you said.

“Too much. And it was always Terry’s idea,” Adam said.

“Fuck outta here,” Terry said and chuckled. Adam launched into a story about growing up with Terry, running around like the latch key kids they were. Adam had dared Terry to jump off a rock formation near a creek which got both their asses handed to them by Terry’s mama.

You laughed through the story, Adam an amazing storyteller. Terry filled in details grudgingly, pulled from him the more Adam kept going.

Your food arrived in the middle of Adam speaking. You ordered tiger sauce wings and the chicken was huge. It came with fries and you immediately dug in, your hunger taking over something vicious.

Adam finally left you two alone as Adam had to tend to more and more people as the night dragged on.

“Your friend is funny,” you said.

Terry grunted. “But he doesn’t get on your nerves?” He asked.

“Nope. Guess you bring it out of me,” you said.

Terry rolled his eyes but dug into his own steak and potatoes. You both lobbed questions back and forth, learning more about each other now than over the two weeks he fixed minor things around the rental.

You downed cider after cider, getting lost in the way Terry told stories. He had a slower approach than Adam, but he was no less engaging. With that voice of his, he set the scene perfectly as a narrator.

The cider warmed you from the inside out, making your face flush with heat. But it was Terry’s voice that had something else flushing as well. Your pussy fluttered every time he licked the corner of his mouth while he spoke.

It ached every time you spoke and his focus was completely on you. He didn’t blink away, he didn’t look down, he didn’t interrupt. It only highlighted how much you craved that. Your family and friends only had so much patience for you before they were off, dominating the conversation in ways you couldn’t actively participate in. It felt more like they just wanted someone to talk at, not with.

Not the case with Terry. He included you in the conversation, stretching it, and flowed effortlessly from one topic to the next. There was rarely a lull in your conversation and your heads dipped closer and closer together the more you spoke.

The crisp apple and blueberry taste coated your tongue but also loosened your lips. “I see it all so clearly in my head, but then I get too much in my head, and it all comes crashing down. I can’t connect with this one for some reason,” you said.

Terry had asked you more about novel writing, the concept completely foreign to him. He confessed that he didn’t think that much effort went into it. Maybe not for others. But for you, it felt like you agonized over every single word. Were you true to the characters? Did anything make sense? Would it hit for others like it hit for you?

“Why’s it not connecting for you?” Terry sipped his second beer, as sober as a judge. While you felt too relaxed.

You sighed and looked away from him, peeling the label off of the bottle with your nail. “No offense, but men. I usually have a man to play with while writing to keep the inspiration going but sex-only arrangements only work if the guy initiates it. If I tell them I don’t want anything more, that’s when they get in their feelings,” you said with a shiver.

Terry’s grin spread slowly across his lips, revealing a neat row of teeth. Oh, my. He was damn delicious. “So you treat them like a ho and they get mad?”

“Yes!” You tapped his shoulder. Finally, a man who got you. “Like ugh, I know what I want and it’s not these dudes I find. I won’t settle for anything less than what I write about on the daily. So no, I don’t want to date, a girl just wants to get fucked, you know? No talking, no giggling, just work me over like a screen door in a hurricane and then get the fuck out,” you said. You nodded your head to emphasize your point.

You sighed deeply and smiled at Terry, your eyes drooping. You were a little tipsy. Terry lifted an eyebrow and then your words echoed in your mind. Your jaw dropped. Oh god. You were mortified.

“I-I am so sorry. That was so rude,” you said.

Terry lifted his fingers in a small wave. “Naw, you’re good,” he said.

“No, wow. That was inappropriate. I’m sorry. I-I’m sorry. We should go, please,” you said.

Terry turned towards you on the bar stool. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. I’m the one that asked, chipmunk,” he said.

Your cheeks were still on fire. It was one thing to talk like this with your girlfriends or your sister, or even your writing group. That was normal. But you talked with Terry as if you’d known him forever. It took you one business year to make friends, putting them through the gauntlet to see if they’d actually stick around. More than that to let your freak flag fly.

“If you truly want to go, we will. But I promise, we’re cool. You don’t have to censor yourself around me,” he said.

And somehow, that permission made your shoulders droop from around your ears. You nodded, taking a sip of water. You didn’t have to apologize for being true to yourself. And it was like you crossed some invisible social boundary with Terry. Conversation flowed more smoothly, your heads dipped closer together, and your shoulders brushed against each other.

“So what are you looking for then? If not these dudes you meet,” he said.

You spent the rest of the night diving into past dating history and what you looked for in a partner. Terry shared what he liked as well. Someone that laughed at his world-stopping jokes, someone kind, and someone goofy.

Instantly, you compared yourself to the small list of women he’d been with. The traits he looked for. Did you fit the bill? Were you someone he could shove through the mattress?

It seemed wild to think about that even though you already swore him off. It wasn’t that you weren’t interested. You were too interested. Too aware. Too conscious of him. Of the way he moved, talked, or laughed. You anticipated what would make him smile, what would make him groan, or what would make him roll his eyes.

He was hands down the only man that could make you lose your marbles and you hadn’t even taken him to bed. The thought filled you with so much dread and fear, that you had to push him away to stay sane. You had to keep him firmly on the other side of the brain before your inner romantic started planning your wedding in your mind.

You could easily fall for Terry Richmond. And you weren’t sure if you were strong enough to survive if he couldn’t. Not in the way you wanted. Not in the way you craved. Not in the way you wrote about, book after book, story after story, chasing a phantom man in your mind that loved you in the way you hungered for.

Adam called last call and gave Terry the sober vibe check. Which consisted of Terry holding his middle finger to nose while standing on one leg for a minute. You laughed at the sight, instantly taking a picture because there was no chance in hell you wanted to forget the look on his face.

He flipped you the bird while he settled with Adam and then escorted you outside. The wind was bitter, biting through your jacket and hoodie. Terry stepped closer to you, taking the brunt of it as the wind came from his direction.

You joked on the way to his truck, nudging him every so often as you walked. The liquor loosened you both up, navigating the newfound familiarity together. Whether it was by intention or by accident, the touches were not unwelcome.

At his car, you leaned against the truck. You nudged your chin towards the bar. “It’s a great place. I see why you wanted to show it to me,” you said.

He leaned a hand against the car, blocking most of the wind. But it had the added benefit of bringing him warmth closer. He smelled delicious like the outside air he belonged to. Like pine needles and cinnamon.

“Figured you might. Did it help with your book?” He asked.

You gasped. “Was that the goal?” You asked.

He shrugged. “A little. I figured you were too in your head,” he said.

“You think you know me, Terry Richmond,” you said and tapped his chest. He rocked back on his heels as if it actually hurt him and you rolled your eyes.

“No. But I’m learning to,” he said.

You giggled nervously as you blinked up at him. Light from the signs on the bar barely reached, but it highlighted him from behind. Light cut across his jaw and cheek and made his lashes glow at the tip.

Terry stepped closer, giving you all the room to step away or block him. But that was the last thing your body wanted. You stayed put, sliding your hands against his broad chest. Your fingers curled around the fabric and he sighed.

He brought his face closer to yours and inhaled. You hummed just as his lips pressed against yours. There was nothing hurried about it. Nothing filthy or salacious. But it warmed you from the tip of your toes to the top of your head.

Terry drew back and looked you in the eyes. You didn’t need to say anything. Didn’t need to share anything. You supposed kissing him was inevitable. Fated.

Terry tucked you into his truck and his hands lingered, reluctantly letting you go only because you were seated and there was nothing to help with anymore. You smiled at him and he finally closed the door. It gave you enough time to let loose the breath you held as he walked around.

He drove carefully back up the mountain. Snow had stuck to the road in some areas, so Terry went extra slow to be careful. If it weren’t for his huge lights, you wouldn’t be able to see a got damn thing.

It was pitch black outside, as if the world had disappeared during your ascent. As soon as the headlights passed on to something else, the darkness encroached and gobbled it back up. It was trippy. Yet strangely called to your inner emo.

The ride was mostly silent, soft music playing on the radio too low for you to pick up words. Terry found your rental without a hitch and came around to let you out of his truck. He walked with you to the front door and hovered outside of it while you stepped in.

You put your head on the door, swinging back and forth. In a minute, Terry would have to fix that one too. You giggled at your joke and Terry smirked.

“What’s so funny, chipmunk?” He asked.

You told him and Terry groaned and shook his head. “That was a terrible joke,” he said.

“What! No it wasn’t!” You squeaked with your outrage, sputtering for the right words to defend yourself. You could call your jokes bad, he couldn’t. You didn’t know why just yet, but he couldn’t.

“Was to,” he said and stepped closer. Terry’s eyes drooped as he leaned his shoulder against the door frame. He took up the majority of it, so large and imposing. Yet his energy was nothing but peaceful and quiet, setting you at ease in a way only a thorough cleaning could achieve.

“Was not,” you said, holding your ground. You wanted to invite him in. Wanted to go ahead and explore what he started.

Terry sighed and dug his hands in his hoodie pocket. “Goodnight, chipmunk,” he said.

Oh. You matched his sigh and rolled your eyes. “Good night, Terry,” you said. You’d have to think of a good nickname for him. Like Big Bird…Clifford…whenever it came to you, you were gonna hit him with it.

Terry stepped back and waited while you closed and locked the door. You heard his boots travel down the steps and into his awaiting truck.

You leaned your back against the cold door and sighed once more. If you were a chipmunk, then the only tree you wanted to climb was him.

“Girl,” you said, drawing the word out.

“Girl, what?” Your best friend, Whitley, asked.

“This motherfucker out here chopping wood on Christmas Eve,” you said. Terry stopped by a week later, finally coming around to chop more wood for the fireplace. You had forgotten all about it, feeling better now that you had an upgraded emergency kit.

But then Terry took off his hoodie, revealing a silver blue T-shirt that really brought out the blue in his eyes. He blamed the storm, criticizing you for not paying more attention to the weather channel.

Um, and miss bingeing Alex Cross for the umpteenth time? Yeah, no thanks. You called him an old man while he grinned and went outside, round to the side. There was a tree stump there and a small pile of chopped firewood.

Terry took the larger, whole pieces and went to work. Some he cracked in one go, his powerful muscles bunching and contracting with the effort. The axe was decisive, snapping and echoing in the surrounding woods.

Terry used the hem of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his brow and you got a front row seat to his abs.

You moaned into the phone and Whitley grunted. “Girl, uh uh. Put me on video or something. You can’t be moaning like that and I don’t get to see too.”

Fair, she was right. You hurried and put her on video, tilting the phone to look at him through the window. Though he faced forward, he rarely looked up while he worked on the firewood as if it stole something from him.

You bit your lip, needing that same focus while he fucked you stupid. You wanted to be fucked so hard that you forgot your ABCs.

“Oh damn,” Whitley said, moaning with you.

Lord, he was fine. This so wasn’t fair. Not even in the slightest. “And you ain’t rode that big dawg yet?” Whitley asked.

“Girl, no. Look at him. He would snap my ass in half and then eat my heart on his way out,” you said.

Terry took a break, lodging the axe in the tree stump. He wiped his forehead with his shirt once more and you and Whitley sighed in appreciation. Wisps of his breath clouded in the air, sunlight shining brightly on Terry.

“I say this with all the love in my heart. You stupid ho, go ride that man!” Whitley yelled into the phone. Since she was on speaker, you ducked in case Terry looked towards you. He didn’t need to see you being a creeper.

When you deemed it safe, you slowly stood back up. Terry stretched his thick biceps, causing his shirt to ride up. His belly peeked from underneath, giving you a glimpse of his belly button. You felt no better than an 18th century man but your core was in full agreement. Your clit throbbed, painfully. His tattoos poked out from beneath his short sleeves and you wondered what the story was behind each one.

“Now what if he looked over here? Now we both looking stupid ‘cause you don’t know how to shut up,” you said.

Whitley giggled and sighed. Terry picked up the axe and continued chopping. He leaned forward, grabbing a whole piece, and then placed it on the stump. He hefted the axe above his head and let it fall with force behind it, splitting it in two.

“Got damn. Maybe I need to visit you up there, friend,” Whitley teased.

“Um, no,” you said.

Whitley giggled. “Then if that’s your man, go get him!”

You grumbled to her, listing off reasons why you absolutely shouldn’t. But night after night, little Laz Alonso wasn’t cutting it. Ever since the bar, ever since the kiss, you hadn’t been able to keep him from your mind.

It was his face that you stroked yourself too. His voice that you moaned to. His eyes that set you off but it was empty. Sure it felt good, but you needed more. You needed the heft of a man on top of you, splitting you open, talking nasty in ya ear.

Spicy audios and a vibrator just didn’t have the same effect. Not when you wanted some body heat. When you wanted the rough scratch of a beard on your skin. Fingers buried to the knuckle.

“What am I gonna do when he get me addicted to that monster in his pants and I can’t have no more? You really want me out here like a crackhead, begging for dick? You wanna come bail me out of jail because I was banging on his door at 3am?” You asked.

Whitley howled with laughter as you kept going, describing all the ways Terry would have you acting out of character. And you wouldn’t feel a lick of shame about it. You’d stand outside buck ass nekkid in the cold, brutal winter if it meant you’d get to hop on it again.

“Stop, my stomach hurt! Stop it!” Whitley yelled in between pulls of air.

You finally giggled with her, eyes still on Terry. The pile of wood next to him grew more and more and you wondered how long he expected this storm to last? Or if he had that little faith in the central heating.

Terry glanced towards the house and you ducked, heart in your throat. “I think he saw me,” you whispered.

Whitley giggled and shook her head. “How you gonna explain that one?” She asked.

“I’ll tell if you if works,” you said. You hung up with her and then grabbed two bottles of water from the pantry.

You threw on your hoodie and jacket, leaving the house. You slid-walked towards the side of the house, the snow giving way and making you earn it. You huffed as you made it around the side.

Terry stopped chopping and watched you struggle. He lodged the axe into the stump and then placed his hands on his narrow hips. The silver blue T-shirt clung to his body with sweat. If he were to wring it out, you’d bet it’d fill a bucket.

When you got closer, Terry lifted an eyebrow. “You know chipmunks s’posed to hibernate in the winter,” he said.

“Oh shut up,” you said, shaking your head. “I saw you struggling so I decided to come give you the break you needed.”

You handed him the bottle of water and then unscrewed your own. “Saw me struggling, huh,” he said, his voice deeper than normal. Or were you imagining it? Fuck. You were losing touch with reality now.

His eyes slanted towards you as he tilted his head back and gulped down the bottle of water. He didn’t stop for a breath. He kept going, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the action. His bicep could probably crush steel. Veins ran down the length of his arm and saliva pooled in your mouth.

“That’s a lot of firewood,” you said, your voice unnaturally rough. You cleared your throat and drank your own water.

You finally figured out how Wesley and Gabrielle meet so the rest of Act 1 flew from your fingers. You made it to the part where they have sex for the first time and Gabrielle would discover that Wesley was an investigator.

You’d had sex on the brain all day. A little obsessively so considering it was Christmas Eve. So Terry being out here, looking like that and chopping wood like that... It was like a cosmic nudge in the pants to ride him ‘till the cows came home. Your resolve weakened the more you spent in his presence. This was why you needed to stop listening to Whitley’s ass.

“Want to make sure you’re prepared,” he said, his accent seeping through his words.

You drank more of your water, shivering as a brutal wind kicked up. “Oh, that’s cold,” you said. Was that the universe telling you to take your ass in the house? Surely, it would be on your side, telling you to keep your eye on the prize and not fuck the incredibly hot handyman.

The wind blew again, the cold light of the sun disappearing all together. You looked upwards. Clouds rolled across the sky as the temperature dropped ten degrees. “Fuck,” you shivered, rubbing your arms.

Terry scowled. “The storm’s early. Go get inside,” he said.

Overhead, trees swayed violently with the gathering wind. “What about the firewood?” You asked.

“I got it,” he said. He waved for you to go ahead of him but you didn’t want to just leave him to do all the work. He moved carefully, heading to the side of the house and grabbed a blue tarp. He jogged to the stump and loaded the tarp with firewood. “Go get inside!”

“It’ll be faster if I help,” you called back over the wind.

You ran towards the stack, helping him load it with the firewood he chopped. He scowled but he couldn’t argue with you once you started. In no time, you had it loaded with as much firewood as he could move.

He pushed you towards the house, pulling on the tarp and dragged it across the snow. Snow flurries kicked up and swirled around you as you ran-slid towards the front door. Terry was hot on your heels, huffing, clouds of breath in front of him.

You held onto the railing as you jogged up the steps, already knowing Terry wouldn’t want you to help with the wood. He gathered up all four corners and lifted with his knees, carrying the tarp up the stairs like it was nothing.

You opened the door, the wind doing most of the work. The door banged against the wall and Terry stomped in after and dropped the firewood. “Close the door,” he said and went back outside.

“Wait!” You called after him. He kept walking so you did as he said, closing the door behind him. You had to push against the wind but you finally managed to close it. You looked outside of the window beside the door.

The snow blew around hard and fast, obscuring visibility minute by minute. You could barely make out Terry’s outline as he ran to his truck and opened the bed. He pulled out a bag and then closed the bed of the truck, locking it behind him. He jogged towards the front door, holding his bare arm up as he did so.

A second later, he opened the door, entered, and then closed it behind him. He shook himself out, flinging snow across the entrance. “I’ll clean that up,” he said. Water clung to his scruffy beard and plastered his shirt to his body. His nipples poked out and you dragged your eyes away.

“You need to get in the shower, now,” you said.

“What?” Terry asked and his eyes went wide.

“The last thing you want to do is get sick. Go warm your body up in the shower. I’ll throw your clothes in the dryer,” you said. Your words sunk in a second later and then you giggled. “I mean, leave your clothes outside the door, obviously.”

Terry smirked, his eyes crinkling in the corners. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you,” he said. He nodded towards the fireplace. “You know how to start that? We should conserve power tonight, just in case.”

“I agree. But no, still haven’t learned how to start it. You go get in the shower, the heater will be fine for now,” you said.

Terry looked like he wanted to argue, pinching his lips together. But then he shook his head and took off towards the bathroom. He peeled off his shirt as he went and you bit your lip.

Sweet fuck, that was not what you meant! Got damn. Your eyes widened as you looked at the dip in his back. The expanse of shoulders. The tattoo on the back of his right arm. Sweet fuck, almighty.

Terry looked back at you as he went into the bathroom. He ducked to enter and then shut the door behind him. He caught you staring. He so, so caught you staring. A beat later, he opened the door and tossed out his shirt, jeans, and socks. Not his underwear though. Bastard.

You put the items in the dryer and let it run for a cycle. You closed the closet doors on the other side of the kitchen and then started up a kettle. Your fingers tapped on the countertop waiting for the water to finish.

All the while, the shower was loud through the walls. On the other side of it, Terry was showering. He was naked. He was running soap all over that massive, long body. Your panties grew so damp, you wondered if you had enough time to dry them before he got out of the shower.

You needed all the strength you could muster. Because right now, you couldn’t remember a single fucking reason why you couldn’t hop on Terry’s dick. Really, what was the price of heartbreak? A wild ride in the sack? It just may be worth it for Terry Richmond.

The shower turned off just as the kettle clicked off beside you. You jumped and then closed your eyes. You were an adult. You could keep yourself in check.

You poured some tea for yourself but you weren’t sure what he drank. You didn’t like beer so you didn’t have any in the house. You weren’t expecting any visitors.

Wind blew against the window making you jump once more. You were too hyperaware. Too attune with every little noise or screech.

You retrieved his clothes from the dryer and then knocked on the door. Terry opened it a crack and you made sure to keep your eyes on his face. Nowhere south. “Clothes,” you said.

“Thanks,” he said. He opened the door wider and grabbed his clothes from you. His fingers grazed yours and you gasped. He was so soft and warm. Steam poured out the room, fanning across your face. He smelled like your soap and you bit back a moan.

“Yup,” you squeaked and then left him to it. Tea, tea, all you needed was some tea. Some sleepytime tea to do the trick. But you weren’t sure how you were going to sleep with a storm raging outside.

You hated to admit it but your winter getaway turned out to be anything but idyllic. And you had a teensy, smallish, not even worth mentioning fear of storms. It was the bigness of it. The fact that it made you feel so tiny, so insignificant, so aware of your mortality. That nature was the foremost authority and you lived and breathed by its good graces.

It was an annoying feeling to you as a writer. You created entire worlds at whim. Played with characters like dolls. But you held no such power in real life.

Terry left the bathroom, his footfalls softer now that he wasn’t wearing boots. Freshly dressed in his warm clothes, he looked younger without his beanie. He sported a mini, curled afro atop his head. It gave him a mountain man sort of look, like he would be at home out there in the woods.

“Thanks,” he said.

You nodded. “I wasn’t sure if you were into tea,” you said.

Terry waved you off. “Water is fine,” he said. He moved over towards the living room and opened the tarp on the floor. He knelt on one leg as he worked on stoking a fire to life. The flames gathered traction, flicking orange and yellow light across his features.

You rolled the bag of tea around a spoon to squeeze excess water out. Then you doctored it how you liked, adding in cold water. You grabbed a bottle of water and headed to the living room as Terry finished with the fireplace.

Terry accepted the bottle, drinking down half of it while he turned off the main heater and sat on the other side of the couch.

“Looks like we’re having a sleepover. Did you plan this too?” You asked.

“If I were powerful enough to control the weather, I’d use it for more nefarious purposes,” Terry said.

“Like what?” You asked, your curiosity piqued.

Terry chuckled. “And give up my evil plan? Naw. I ain’t grow up on a chicken farm,” he said.

You laughed and shook your head. “What?” You asked, chuckling more.

Terry laughed with you. “Chicken Run?” He asked.

“Shut up, you ain’t seen that movie,” you said.

Terry scoffed. “Bet,” he said.

“What’s the young rooster’s name?” You asked.

“Rocky, try again,” he said.

You squinted at him as you thought of your next question. Something only a true fan would know. “Who was the first chicken to go through Mrs. Tweedy’s chicken pie machine?” You asked.

Terry sucked in a breath and widened his eyes. “Okay, tough. But it was Ginger,” he said.

You looked at him and raised your eyebrows, trying to cast doubt on his answer. He matched your stare, smirk on his lips, and didn’t fold.

“Okay, fine, you’re right,” you huffed.

Terry laughed and drank the rest of his bottled water. You fell into a comfortable silence, both lost in your thoughts. “I haven’t seen Chicken Run in a while,” Terry said.

“Me neither. We should see if it’s streaming,” you said. You turned on the TV and snuggled under your inside throw blanket. With the heat blowing across your legs, you felt warmer than the heater could ever achieve.

Before long, you were both laughing at the shenanigans of the claymation movie. You both tossed out quotes, going back and forth about things you noticed in the movie.

One movie turned to two, throwing on How the Grinch Stole Christmas. It was among your favorite Christmas movies and a perfect distraction against the raging storm outside. The wind knocked harshly against the window every so often, causing your eyes to dart to it and your heart rate to speed up. You hated being such a baby sometimes.

But, giving yourself grace, storms really could be scary. If it knocked the power out, it could also knock over trees into the house or onto someone’s car. Storms were devastating and of course you’d find them a bit scary.

Terry scooted closer. “You afraid of storms?” He asked. His voice was like butter melting over a freshly baked biscuit. You hummed and decided to be honest.

“There’s so many things that could happen in a storm,” you told him.

He nodded. “I got something to help with that,” he said.

You turned to him and hummed for him to respond. He scooted closer on the couch, close enough for your shoulder to lean on his. You giggled at his solution. “Stop hugging the throw too,” he murmured and you giggled.

“This helps storms, huh?”

Terry nodded. “Hell yeah. Feel better?”

You pinched your lips together but went on and nodded. “It has its merits.”

As you worked on Wesley and Gabrielle’s relationship, you couldn’t help picturing how Terry would be in a relationship. Would he be the perfect boyfriend? Would he be as annoying as he usually was, always poking at you?

“Before we get comfortable, we should grab some drinks. I only have tequila or wine,” you said.

“I’ll take the tequila,” he said, making a face. You laughed and rolled your eyes at him. You got up and went to the kitchen, grabbing your favorite tequila and two shot glasses. You turned off the kitchen light on your way back, bathing the living room in darkness. The flames in the fireplace flickered across the wall, still pumping out delicious heat.

You poured a shot for each of you, clinked the glasses, and then drank. During the movie, you talked and joked, also quoting this movie back and forth. Terry’s laugh was so adorable and infectious. Was there anything on this man that didn’t scramble your brain?

He breathed and you were ready to drop your panties and beg for his dick. You were not above begging. But your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth. You wanted it too badly but you wrestled with your brain. You shouldn’t but you oh so wanted to.

“Can I confess something?” Terry asked.

You turned your head to him. You had managed to curl into his side, soaking in the heat of his body. You felt every rise and fall of his chest. You licked your lips and Terry’s eyes drooped down.

“What is it, Terry?” You asked.

Terry licked his own lips and you couldn’t resist following the movement with your eyes. His lips were so big, so juicy.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about our kiss,” he said. His voice was so soft, so velvety, that your shoulders dropped and you leaned in.

“Me neither,” you said. You shook your head. The kiss invaded all of your senses, leading to distraction even when Terry wasn’t there. All week, you caught yourself veering off to replay the kiss over and over again.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the moment you threatened me with a poker,” he said and smiled.

Your chest rose and fell in waves, processing what he was saying. “Don’t play with me, Terry Richmond,” you said. You just couldn’t stand it if he were.

“When you said what you said at the bar, I wondered what kind of man you’d take to bed. And then I started thinking that I wanted to be the only one in your bed,” he said.

Your mouth dropped open. It’s not that you didn’t know you were gorgeous. It’s not that you didn’t think you could pull someone like Terry. It was the fact that he said it so plainly. So openly. So clearly for your brain to not misinterpret his words. You didn’t have to guess with him. And that was one of the sexiest things ever.

You blinked a few times. “I–”

“And then I started hoping that you’d let me audition,” he said.

“Audition?” You asked. What the hell was he on about?

Terry grinned and then leaned closer, bringing his large hand to cup your face. His thumb stroked across your cheek. Your eyes slowly blinked closed, your skin tingling where he stroked. His warm breath fanned across your face, smelling faintly like tequila.

He rubbed his lips against yours but it wasn’t a full kiss. And that made you want it more. You wanted his lips on yours. You would simply die without it.

“Let me show off my skills. If I do well, you can use me as inspiration for your latest book,” he said.

You giggled, biting the inside of your cheek. “And what do you get out of the arrangement?” You asked.

“You,” he said.

You gasped, staring into his eyes. The low light made his features stand out more. It made his expressions more severe, more striking. You were at a loss for words. This man handed over everything you wanted on a silver platter.

You were so nervous to accept. You had been let down in so many ways by so many men. You had reached a point where you weren’t actively looking for a relationship. You didn’t need some raggedy boy in your phone.

But Terry was a man. A huge, perfect, wonderful man who got on your last fucking nerve. He always had something smart to say or some new quip to lob at you. But he was also thoughtful. Kind. Funny. Sexy as fucking sin.

“Are you sure? What if you don’t pass?” You asked.

“Then I’d like to keep trying until you tell me to leave,” he said. He licked your lips and you sighed, ending on a moan.

“Okay, what will you do for your audition?” You asked. The tequila traveled straight south, making your pussy throb. Your inner thighs tingled even as your breathing increased.

Terry smirked. He finally crashed his lips to yours, kissing you harshly, brutally. Like he had merely been caged before and you finally set him free. You brought your hands up to his neck, pulling him closer.

Your moans combined and danced as you leaned closer, pushed harder, kissed back just as fiercely as he did.

His hands moved underneath your shirt, hands wrapped around your sides, gripping onto your meaty flesh. You moaned, arching your back into him. Terry pulled you closer, made you straddle him.

An impressive bulge rubbed against your core and you moaned, closing your eyes. Fuck, you were overstimulated already and nothing even happened yet. You knew he had a monster in his pants. You just knew it.

You made out with Terry like a horny teenager, clashing teeth and biting at each other’s lips. You grinded in his lap, rubbing yourself against him. He groaned, hands lowering to cup your ass. He took two big scoops and squeezed hard, causing you to squeak.

“O-Oh fuck,” you moaned. The pain hurt so good. He kneaded your ass and you dropped your forehead to his shoulder. You moaned low, breathing harshly through your nose.

“You are so fucking beatiful,” he murmured against your temple.

“Terry, fuck, I’ve wanted you so bad,” you moaned.

“Why didn’t you say?” He asked.

You shook your head. You couldn’t speak. Didn’t want to speak. Your body moved on its own accord, rubbing against his hot erection.

Terry moved one of his hands to grip your chin and force you to look at him. “Why?” He demanded.

“You could break me. And that scares me,” you whispered.

“How do you think I feel?” He asked. “You could rip me apart.”

You crashed your lips to his, scratched at the nape of his neck. He returned his hand to your ass to squeeze, knead, and mold with his large hands. You moaned into his mouth, needing more friction.

Terry grabbed you by the waist and pulled you off of him. He made quick work of your jeans, pulled them down your legs, and off in one quick snap. You squealed with laughter, at the physicality of him, yet he still remained sweet and gentle.

Terry peeled your panties from your body and he groaned. “Fuck, you’re so wet,” he whispered, his voice one of awe. He slipped your panties off as well, biting your thighs as he pulled, and tossed it over his shoulder.

Your pussy throbbed looking at the way he stared at the heart of you. The smell of your arousal permeated the air and you moaned, smelling how turned on you were. He pushed at your thighs until they rested against your stomach.

He blew his breath across your pussy gently. “Oh, shit,” you twitched, hand reaching down to cling to his afro.

Terry groaned and blew once more, lowering his face until he was close enough to lick you from entrance to clit and back again. Your back bucked off of the couch, grinding into his face.

Terry moaned and wrapped his thick lips around your clit. He suckled sloppily, licking you like a dog with its favorite toy. “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” you moaned, your stomach caving in and your eyes rolling back.

His tongue was the sweetest torture of pleasure against your pussy. His drool mixed with your essence, causing his sloppy eating to echo in the living room. “Fuck, that pussy good,” he sputtered against your sopping wet pussy.

“Oh fuck!” You screamed, your orgasm tearing through you too fast for you to comprehend. You flopped on the couch as your body shook and twisted with pleasure. Terry kept eating, slurping up the latest wave of essence on his tongue.

His beard grew more wet, sliding against your skin. It tickled and you wiggled, trying to move. Terry locked his arms around your thighs, shoving his face further into your pussy. His nose tickled the top of your mound and you groaned and moaned, loving the attention but unable to stand the tickling.

“Hmmmm,” he moaned, shaking his head. His tongue flicked across your clit without mercy, suckling on the swollen nub.

“Shit! Shit! Wait! Fuck!” You panted. You were out of breath, hardly able to make any sounds as Terry continued to eat you like a starving man to bread. Your stomach caved in once more, your lungs refusing to work any longer.

You pushed at his forehead but he kept going. Your eyes rolled backwards, your thighs clenched around his head as another orgasm tore through you, yanking your soul around like a ping pong ball.

Your pussy clenched and unclenched, wanting attention too. “Fuck me, fuck me,” you begged. You loved that he was a munch, Loved, loved it. But fuck you needed to be filled up. You needed to feel him deep in it.

“Not done yet,” Terry said. He came up for air, his face shiny with your juices. He licked his lips and closed his eyes, savoring it. When he opened it again, he narrowed his eyes. “Show me those pretty chocolate nipples.”

Your belly flipped painfully. Pussy throbbed. You lifted your shirt slowly, giving him a slight tease. Your overheated skin tingled with awareness as the cotton shifted across your body.

You revealed your titties and Terry groaned and rolled his hips into the bed. He winked at you. “Play with them while I eat,” he said. He returned to lapping at your pussy and your thighs squeezed around his face.

You were too sensitive. You jerked with every flick, every suck, and every glide of his lips. Your thighs shook with passion, tingled, and tensed. But you managed to pinch and roll your nipples, squeezing in time with his licks. “Please, please, Terry, fuck! I can’t!”

He pushed two fingers inside to pump in and out of your entrance. He wrapped his lips around your clit and used some kind of devil, voodoo magic to create a sucking vortex that had you seeing an entire galaxy behind your eyelids. Your mind flashed with dense clouds of pinks, violets, fiery oranges, and the softest greens.

You lost all ability to speak as another orgasm was wrung from you. You bowed forward, pushing his head into your clit as you came and came with howls and screams loud enough to wake the dead.

White and black spots danced in your vision as you suffered through aftershocks, ribbons of pleasure causing your nerves to go haywire. “Fuck, fuck,” you twitched.

You didn’t have the words nor the presence of mind to process what the hell just happened. You were spent. Put out. Dangle you on the clothesline to air out because you were out of it.

Terry came up for air with a growl, kissing your inner thighs, then your stomach, then climbed up your body to capture your lips with his own. He smeared your essence all over your face and you locked tongues with him eagerly.

You tasted too good on his tongue. Smelled too good on his lips. “Did I pass? I get the job?” Terry asked in between kissing you stupid.

You nodded and licked your lips, tasting more of yourself. “You got it, you got it,” you panted.

“I don’t have a condom, but–”

“I’m clean and on the pill,” you said. You kept up with that shit religiously, setting an alarm and everything. You were too chicken to try any other methods.

“I swear I’m clean,” he said, going back to kissing your lips. You moaned, and rubbed against his body.

“Fuck me,” you whined.

Terry chuckled. “Keep begging, chipmunk,” he groaned. He managed to continue kissing you while he ditched his jeans and underwear. His jeans dropped to the floor with a loud flop. His shirt went next, his muscles bunching as he lifted it off of him.

He removed your shirt as well, hands coming around to grab your titties. He pushed them together, lowering his mouth to suck on both nipples at the same time. You jerked and whined, grinding on the couch.

“Please, Terry, fuck me. Fuck me, I need it. I need your big dick to split me open,” you begged.

Terry groaned and moved his right hand between you. He rubbed his dick up and down your folds, gathering up all the slick he could to coat his dick. He pushed into your entrance and your pussy started talking.

“Mmm, growl at me,” he moaned. “Fuck.”

He dipped the head of his dick in and out of you, slowly, your pussy doing more than growling as he toyed with your aching hole. You cried every time his tip stretched you. He was easily the biggest you’d ever taken.

Terry put his left hand on your chest and moved his right hand up to your clit. This thumb pressed on your clit and a strangled noise burst from your throat. “I need you inside me,” you whined. “Please, please.” Your eyes watered.

You were going to lose your mind in a minute. You would dissolve into a puddle of goo or start barking like a dog if he teased you any more.

Terry moved his thumb in circles around your clit, causing you to sputter and moan, completely lost to the sensation. “Eyes on me,” he commanded.

Your eyes snapped open to him. To the softest gray and darkest blue of his eyes. His eyebrows curved in a severe arch. The same focus he had while chopping wood, he brought to killing you slowly from the inside out.

His thumb made your pussy relax enough for him to sink in deeper, further, aided by the fresh slick leaking out of you. If it weren’t for the throw blanket, you were sure you’d have to buy Mr. Omar a brand new couch.

“So wet. Fuck, you’re gripping my shit tough,” he moaned. He flicked his thumb harder.

You sniffled, tears running down your cheeks. “Please, I can’t. I can’t no more!” You yelled.

Terry leaned down, pressing his lips to yours. You moaned and played with his thick tongue, licked his juicy lips, and gently bit his bottom lip. He moaned. “I say when you’re done,” he said.

“Oh fuck,” you said as you lost all control over your body. Terry pushed all the way down to the hilt with a guttural groan. Veins popped out of his neck as he used you to hold some of his weight.

His dick throbbed, pulsed in time with his own heartbeat inside you. His dick pushed up against your sweet spot and before long, you were cumming on his dick.

“Yes, yes, cream this dick. Show me you need that shit,” he moaned. He pulled back until he was almost out and then he shoved back in. He increased his strokes the more he did it, your pussy growling on his dick, while he rolled his hips.

Your nails scratched at his chest as he moved his hands to either side of your stomach. The couch dipped with his weight as he pounded your pussy, punished her for whatever perceived slight against him.

“Terry!” You screamed.

“Scream it, baby,” he moaned. He pounded faster, nothing but wet, nasty smacks echoing in the room. Your pussy welcomed him in easily. He glided and fucked you to within an inch of your life.

“Why you fucking me like this?” You panted. Your thighs were weak against his hips. He pounded so fast that the hair on his thighs created a slight burn on yours. The burn only seeped into your skin, driving your pleasure through the roof. The next one was gonna kill you.

“Because you cum so pretty. Give me another,” he demanded. How many was his limit? How many would he pull from you? You were scared to find out.

Tears ran in tiny rivers down your cheeks. The pleasure was too much. Too big. Too wild. Too uncontrollable and fuck, you greedily wanted more. Your head flopped from side to side. You didn’t have another one in you. You couldn’t give him what wasn’t there.

His head dipped to nip at your chin, your neck, and your breast. He suckled your nipple into his mouth, teasing it with his teeth. Like a wilted flower with fresh water, you came back to life.

Electricity buzzed beneath your skin. Terry slipped out and then slapped his dick against your clit. Your pussy juices squelched and droplets bounced off. “Keep taking this dick like a good girl,” Terry moaned.

“Fuck, yes, Terry. Terry, Terry,” you moaned.

“Cream that shit, fuck,” Terry moaned.

He fucked another orgasm from you. Your nails dug in hard enough to draw blood as you screamed with pleasure, your voice drowning out the roaring wind outside. Terry stroked three more times before finally releasing his nut.

He bathed your insides with hot, throbbing splashes of his cum. He jerked above you, head lolling from side to side as he rode out his climax.

You both breathed heavily, bodies slick with sweat from the sex and from the still lit fire. You kissed each other with little pecks, needing air too much to lock lips. “Let me taste,” you said.

“Fuck,” Terry groaned. He slipped out of you carefully. You hissed as his glorious pipe slid out of you completely. His cum gushed out, pushed out by your pussy. You couldn’t stop clenching as you got onto your stomach.

You opened your mouth and looked at Terry. He stood up with one foot on the ground and one knee planted on the couch cushion. You gripped onto his waist and pulled him closer. Without hands, he made his dick jerk to attention, still fully hard. You took him in your mouth and hummed at the mix of your flavors.

You relaxed your jaw and took him in as far as he wanted to go. You controlled your breathing as he gripped your head. He pushed you onto his dick, making you suckle the full length of him. Not all of it fit, so his dick started to poke against your cheek.

“Lick it all up for me,” he said. His voice. His voice. He could command you to walk through burning flames and you would if it meant that he slutted you out like this every day from now on.

You suckled him deep, your eyes never leaving his. You communicated without words that the final chink was in place. You were his. Locked in. Mind to mind. Body to body. Soul to soul. You were his to toy with, play with, his to do whatever he fucking wanted. Because you knew down to your bones that no one else would do it for you. No one else would be able to redefine the meaning of sex for you.

His stare pulled you deeper and deeper into the pool of his eyes. Your eyes drooped as you let yourself get used. He thrust into your mouth, pulling your throat down on his dick. You gagged a bit and he moaned and jerked his hips. He lessened his strokes but kept up the pace.

Saliva and his pre-cum mixed in your mouth and dribbled down your chin. Your gawking was loud and disgusting as you sucked him down.

“You’re fucking perfect. Fucking perfect. Fuck, I’m finna bust,” he groaned, his chest rumbling with a growl.

His entire shaft throbbed as he held your head in place while he spilled down your throat. You swallowed his delicious cum, moaning at his taste. His eyes rolled back and you whined at the image.

You suckled on his tip like candy and he stuttered with a chuckle. “Okay, okay, okay,” he tapped out, gently pushing at your shoulders.

You giggled and then sat back and wiped your mouth. “Fuck. What the fuck was that?” You asked.

Terry grinned. He leaned over, kissed you, and then sat next to you. He pulled you into his side, running his hand up and down your back. Your body felt more than relaxed. Floating on cloud nine in a way that you didn’t know was possible.

“Ever since we met, I’ve been imagining what I’d do to you,” he said.

“I love the way your mind works,” you huffed.

Terry chuckled and kissed your temple. “I’m just happy to be of service,” he said.

You tapped his chest. “I can’t stand you,” you said.

Terry rained kisses down the side of your face until he could nibble on your ear. “That wasn’t what you said earlier.”

“I cannot be held accountable for the shit I say while you’re balls deep,” you said, holding up your hand.

Terry gripped your hand with a chuckle and brought it to his chest. He stared into your eyes and then kissed your hand. Then he moved your hand lower and lower, a grin spreading across his face. Your hand wrapped around his thickening dick.

“Already?!” You asked.

He shrugged. “Everything about you turns me the fuck on,” he said.

Terry made quick work of putting out the fire. Then, he brought you into the shower to ‘clean off’. All he managed to do was haul you against the shower wall and dig into your guts once more, filling you to the brim with his searing hot cum.

You dried each other off on the way to the bedroom before falling asleep as soon as your face hit the pillow. You smiled as you drifted off, the later half of your book filling in from your imagination. With Terry as inspiration, you had enough material to fill three books.

The next morning, you were on fire. Well, not literally, but Terry’s body heat ensured you never needed a heater or a throw blanket again.

Feeling you move, Terry woke up and kissed your neck. He was curled behind you, his large arm dropped across your stomach. He was too cute when he first woke up. Eyes blinking open. Licking his lips. Face fussy and scrunched up.

“Hm, good morning to you too,” you said, wiggling your ass against his morning wood.

Terry chuckled and moved his hand to your waist to still your movements. “Don’t play with me,” he said.

You continued to wiggle your ass. “Well, it is Christmas morning. Don’t I get a present?” You asked.

Terry hummed in your ear. “What kind of present?” He asked.

“You,” you said.

“It’s my pleasure to serve,” he whispered in your ear before lowering himself in the bed, beneath the covers. Your legs fell open as he adjusted himself in between and went to work, licking and suckling and nibbling around your clit and entrance until you were a ball of putty in his hands.

Incoherent nonsense spilled from your lips as he made you glimpse heaven two times before coming up for air. He kissed you, face shiny once more with your essence. You licked it off of him, licked the corners of his mouth, and suckled his bottom lip.

Terry groaned, sliding into you with ease. “Nasty ass,” he moaned.

But fuck, he was still so big. So nasty. He pounded into you, giving you long deep strokes. He lowered himself closer to your body so that your nipples rubbed against his chest.

“You fucking me too good!” You screamed.

Terry moaned and closed his eyes. He placed kisses all over your chest, neck, and lips, keeping pace. He carved a Terry shaped hole in your pussy and in your heart, one that he would only be able to fill.

“Cum on this dick. Let me feel it,” he begged.

Your moans increased. Like his words were just what you needed. You clenched around his dick and he groaned, hips jerking forward, before you finally gave in and gave him what he wanted.

“Shit, fuck,” he moaned as he came with you, dick twitching and pulsing. You would never get sick of that feeling. Never, ever, ever.

“Merry Christmas, chipmunk,” he said, panting for air.

“Merry Christmas, Terry.”

Terry spent the remainder of your stay fucking you into oblivion. Every morning, you woke up with new ideas, new tweaks to make the story better and improve on it. The sex scenes, in your very humble opinion, were the spiciest things you’d ever written. Filthy.

When you shared some snippets with your writing community, they about fell out with gleeful gifs and unhinged keyboard smashing.

Every night, Terry fulfilled his promise of giving you plenty to work with for your books. He twisted you in more ways than one. Folded you like a pretzel. Moved you in positions you’d never heard of. And each session left you so spent, your brain unplugged for the night.

On your last day there, you spent it wrapped up in the bed with Terry only coming up for air long enough to snack. And then he’d call you chipmunk or give you The Look. The one where he dipped his chin and his eyes lured you in.

Then you were kissing, touching, and exploring. Then your hand was wrapped around his dick and his fingers were buried in your pussy to the knuckle. You made it a game on who would cum first. You should’ve known you’d lose that battle. Especially when he commanded that you cum on his fingers with that deep voice and Carolina accent.

He would shove his wet fingers into your mouth so you could taste yourself while he fucked you from behind. Or from the front. Or from the side.

The side was becoming a favorite because you could look at him while still giving him access to your ass. He would smack it and squeeze it. Then you would hold your ass cheeks apart so he could watch his dick disappear inside you.

Then he’d make a show of licking his thumb and swirling it around your clit to set you off like a bottle rocket. Then you’d scream and scream his name and beg and beg for him to fill you to the brim one last time.

Just one last time. You just needed to feel it soaking your walls one last time. Really, the last time. Because you did have to get on the road soon.

You promised to find a way to spend time together. You weren’t that far from the rental and since he had his own cabin, it wouldn’t be so bad to arrange dates and fuck sessions.

You didn’t know what kind of Christmas miracle this was or who upstairs was looking out for you, but Terry Richmond was the best present ever.

Merry Christmas, my loves! Love ya'll so bad!

The Secret Terry Richmond Files

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missadangel · 24 hours ago

Text

The Heart of Rome (Marcus Acacius x OC)

All Chapters List

XIX. Trouble (Smut!18+!MDNI)

Nulla sunt arcana quae tempus non indicat.

There are no secrets that time does not reveal.

J.R.

"Hanno?" You stammered slightly. It was strange to see him standing before you after such a long time and even more confusing to feel uncertain about how to respond. "Is that really you?"

He smiled, displaying his familiar smile.

"I think so."

That was exactly the sort of response he'd give.

"There he is!"

A man shouted from behind, momentarily distracting you. Hanno narrowed his eyes and swore.

"Get him! Quickly!”

Before you could even think, Hanno grabbed your arm and whispered in your ear, "I'll be at the popina (wine bar) near the gladiator school tomorrow." He took a quick look over your shoulder.

Geta looked alarmed when he saw the men running towards you. "Aurelia! Protect the princess!"

"I have to go now. I'll wait for you there, Aya."

You opened your mouth, but you couldn't say anything; you just watched him running down the street, getting away. The men stormed past you and ran after him, while Geta and the guards came to your side in a hurry.

"My lady! Are you alright?"

Geta grabbed your shoulders. "Did he do something to you?"

You shook your head.

At that moment, the sound of horses neighing echoed around.

"General!" one of the guards called out, looking backwards.

You both looked over there.

Marcus jumped off his horse, eyes narrowed, which made you nervous. He was looking at Geta's hands on your shoulders as he walked quickly towards you, so Geta swiftly removed his hands from your shoulders.

"Acacius, you are very intuitive."

But he did not look at him, his eyes fixed on yours. You smiled at him, though it was weak.

"My lady, I was not aware of your intention to visit here." His voice was filled with curiosity. He turned his eyes to Geta.

"I have asked her to accompany me here."

You were about to answer yourself when the men who had just chased after Hanno turned around with him, grabbing both arms. Geta stopped them with a raised hand.

They bowed to him.

"Who is this man? How dare you touch the princess? Speak!"

You looked at Geta, getting mad at him for mentioning 'touching thing' in front of Marcus. Just as you expected, he clenched his jaw, tensing up.

“I said speak!”

Hanno didn't answer, he just glared at him menacingly, which made them even more tense.

"Emperor Geta asked you a question!" Marcus snarled.

"He escaped from the gladiator school, Your Majesty. We've been looking all over for him." One of them replied.

"He's from the colonies, your highness. He only speaks his native language." The other one explained.

Your eyes widened as Marcus gripped the handle of his sword.

"He meant no harm," you said, your voice cracking.

"Gladiator?" Geta tilted his head and studied his face. He then looked at them and yelled. "How could you let him escape and roam free on the streets? You useless bastards!"

Hanno looked at Marcus in a slightly odd way; there was a clear sense of tension between them.

"What the hell are you waiting for?" Geta gestured with his hands. "Get him out of here now!"

You placed both hands on Marcus' as he gripped his sword. "I'm alright," you reassured him.

Your touch had the usual calming effect on him. But his expression didn't soften until the men pushed Hanno into the prisoner's carriage. Hanno gazed at you from within the cage as you watched his departure, and you struggled to keep a straight face while trying to suppress your feelings. Marcus looked at you, examining your face. "Are you certain you're alright?" he asked, knowing you well enough to read your facial expressions correctly.

You smiled and nodded. "I am, really. But I thought you were in the barracks," you said, glancing at Octavius behind him.

"I was..." Marcus said then turned his gaze to Geta. "There is an urgent matter. I need to take you to Palatine Hill."

Geta narrowed his eyes. "Is it about that bastard cousin of mine?”

Marcus glanced at the children gathered around you, and the people looking at you with curious eyes. "I think you'd better see for yourself when you get there. Shall we?"

"I simply hope that one day will pass without incident! Just one!" Geta grumbled as he walked with the guards to the carriage.

Marcus smirked then he turned towards you. "I believe you would like to come with us, my lady."

It wasn't a question or a request, but the way he was acting made you curious.

"I'd like to come with you, General, if that's alright. It's been over a month since I paid my respects to my father anyway."

"As you wish, my princess.” He was usually a bit hesitant about you going there, but not today, apparently. He helped you onto the carriage and winked at you before walking over to his own horse and getting on.

"General Acacius. Commander Darius. What is the meaning of this? Tell me what's happening here at once!”

You were as bewildered as Geta as you took in the scene before you on Palatine Hill. Nerissa, the slave girl you thought was dead, was alive—and she had a baby with her.

"Your cousin Elagabalus was holding this girl captive, Your Majesty," Darius explained. "My men found her and brought her here."

Geta's eyes widened in surprise. "Why would he do that?" he asked loudly.

You sat down next to Nerissa, who looked frightened. Embracing her, you felt her begin to cry. The baby was crying too; it seemed he had been born only a few weeks after your own. As a mother yourself, you could tell that the baby was hungry. “Why don’t you gentlemen talk outside?”

All three of them looked at you and nodded, except Geta, who frowned instead of nodding.and then all left. The girl then explained to you everything that had happened to her while she was breastfeeding the baby. After Flavius and his men had attacked all the slaves and wounded her, the other guards, the ones under Macrinus captured her. And after Macrinus was executed, they cooperated with the men of Leptis Magna and handed her over to them. And she said that she was already close to labour when Elagabalus found her. Poor girl was so exhausted and weak that she thought she was going to lose the baby. Compared to your chubby Marcius, the baby looked thin, he was two weeks to pass his first month and you couldn't hide that you were a little worried about him. In fact, Nerissa was a noble Greek, not a slave, she had told you her story before. Maybe that's why she was kidnapped. If Macrinus cared about this girl there must be certain reason of her importance. Suddenly the baby started crying again, you checked her breast, she must be low on milk.

"Give him to me," you said, holding out your hands.

"But, my lady…”

"My breast milk is enough for both my Marcius and your baby," you said with a smile.

She returned your smile and placed her baby in your arms. Unlike your chubby Marcius, this baby had silky golden blonde hair on top of his head, just like his father. She thanked you and prayed for you as the baby suckled at your breast. Just as you were about to hand the baby back to her, Julia burst into the room.

“What do you think you're doing?”

You glared at her and handed the baby to her mother, who flinched in fright. You stood up and approached Julia, not liking the way she looked at the girl.

"You get the hell out of here right now and take the child with you!"

She sat up but you stopped her by raising your hand.

"Why would she? After all, she gave birth to a boy, it's Geta's."

"So? The child can't inherit the throne unless Geta weds her."

"I am aware. You must free the girl first, then wed them."

"She's a slave! How dare you think she's worthy of our emperor?"

'You know your son's interest in her. She's a concubina, not an ordinary slave."

"Yet she's not his wife! The Senate wouldn't accept the child as an heir since it wasn't born from legal marriage.”

“That is why I’m saying you must wed them. She’s a captive of war, forced into slavery. Her family is noble, isn't it, Nerissa?"

The girl nodded, looking at her hesitantly. "Yes, my Empress. If we were to send word to my family in Athens, I'm sure they would be able to send you an answer.”

Julia put her hands on her waist, thinking. "You dumb girl. Why didn't you tell me all this time?"

Her cheeks flushed and she bowed her head. "Because I loved Emperor Geta with all my heart. He didn't want me to tell anyone about it, not even his brother Emperor Caracalla."

"All those fights they had... It wasn't just to share your cunt huh?"

"Lady Domna!" You barked.

She approached her, ignoring your glare. "Even if I can convince the Senate, I can't convince Geta. He's really determined not to get married." She looked at you out of the corner of her eye.

"I'll talk to him." You said without looking at her. Then you turned and looked at Nerissa. "Don't concern yourself. No one can get you thrown out of this palace. I'll make sure your family is notified."

"I'll take care of that, you try to convince Geta if you can. But I wonder one thing Aurelia. What's in it for you? What's going on inside that beautiful head of yours I really wonder?’

"Don't confuse me with yourself, Lady Domna. Some favors are given without expecting anything in return.."

She laughed hysterically. "You may deceive others with your gentle and innocent face, but not me. Helping all those poor people and winning the love of the people with this way was a good move. I would never have thought of doing such a sneaky thing. Well done."

"You wouldn't understand even if I told you about it, so I won't tire myself out."

You turned your back on her, leaving the room.

As you left Geta's chambers and walked towards the great hall, you noticed Octavius and the other Praetorians standing outside. You could hear Geta's loud voice coming from inside, so you went to talk to Octavius before entering. "I spoke with Decima," you said.

He looked up at you, a bit surprised.

"I will make sure to mention it to the general, so you can feel assured."

"Thank you, my lady. I really appreciate it. But if it's all right with you, I would like to speak with him myself first."

"Of course, Octavius," you replied with a warm smile.

He walked you to the door and the guards opened it for you.

Marcus and Darius looked at you. Geta however, his back was turned, resting his hands on the table. He then turned his head when he heard your footsteps.

"Commander Darius," you said, looking at him. "Would you please give us some privacy?"

"Yes, my lady," he replied, motioning for the other guards to step outside.

Geta poured himself a glass of wine and settled into the lectus behind the long golden-colored curtain.

Marcus grabbed your arm, "Perhaps it’s best if we don’t get involved."

You reassured him by touching his hand. "I just need to speak with him."

He let out a sigh, "I’ll be right here."

You smiled at him, then turned around and walked towards Geta. As you pushed the curtain aside with your hand, you noticed that he had already finished his glass. He turned it upside down and shook it. Quickly, you picked up the decanter from the table and poured more wine into his glass.

“He looks just like you, you know,” you said.

“Oh please!”

“What's the matter with you? Aren't you happy to see her again?”

“I'll die of happiness!” he replied sarcastically. You sat next to him. “You must marry her so the child can be your legal heir.”

He looked at you sternly, a look you had never seen before. “That's not how it works in Rome!”

“I know the truth about her,” you insisted.

“You know nothing, Aurelia!” he barked, then stood up angrily.

Marcus watched the two of you from a distance, clearly feeling nervous, but he waited patiently.

"We need to let her family know about all this. If you wed her quickly-"

"She does not have a family." He interjected emphatically, taking a moment to inhale deeply. "Caracalla had all of them executed."

"What did you just say?" you wailed.

Marcus stepped towards you as soon as he heard your loud voice. Still unable to believe what you had just heard, you didn’t notice him until he touched your back.

“It was before the revolt in Egypt. Her family came to Rome; they wanted to take her because she was the sister of their princess. That was one of the reasons the Greeks supported the revolt, Acacius.”

You looked at Marcus. It might sound a bit strange, but that rebellion actually brought you to him in a really unique way. After a moment of silence, you feel more determined to convince him.

“She must have had family left behind. You need to inform them about the situation. If you marry, it could be possible to establish peace between them and Rome, right? Additionally, if you appoint your son as your legal heir, you will regain their trust and take a step towards improving relations too.”

He folded his arms, “Marrying a Greek? I don’t think the Senate would approve of that.”

��"Well, you must convince them, right?"

“I shall undertake that responsibility!" Julia's voice echoed through the great hall, filled with joy. "You must wed her, my son."

Geta looked at both you and Julia. "You two agree on that, huh? I’ll be damned." He then turned to Marcus. “What is your perspective, Acacius?”

"I am not a politician, Emperor Geta. However, it is undeniably advantageous for us that the Greeks refrain from participating in any future rebellions against Rome. So I agree with my wife, Lady Aurelia.”

You respected him; despite his modest denial of being a politician, he displayed considerable wisdom.

"I think I owe her that much," Geta murmured.

"We must start preparing for the wedding right away," Julia said with a smile. "But first, I need to invite the wives of the senators and discuss everything with them. They might be upset with me about this." Suddenly, her expression changed as she looked at you. "Aurelia, perhaps they'll be more easily persuaded if you join me. They respect you."

"Being in the same room with those women again? Not for me, Lady Domna," you replied. Julia was about to protest, but Marcus's stern gaze seemed to silence her.

"Then we ask for your permission to take our leave," Marcus said.

Geta nodded. "You may leave."

Marcus extended his arm, and you accepted it as you both departed from the hall. As you made your way out of the courtyard toward his horse, Marcus leaned in, whispering; “Aurelia, what is your intention?”

You met his gaze and lightly touched his face. “I am seeking to protect our son.”

He looked confused as he tried to understand your meaning. You took his hand. “Let us return home to continue our discussion; I miss our son deeply.”

He responded with a smile, gently kissing your hand. “So do I.”

“What you mentioned earlier...” Marcus said as he poured wine into his goblet. “I am curious about what you meant by protecting our son.” Marcius, seemed full, releasing your breast. He made the most beautiful sounds that filled the room with warmth and then drifted off to sleep peacefully.

“I meant to prevent him from being seen as the heir to the throne.” You stood up and gently put Marcius on the small mattress next to your bed. He seemed to fall into a peaceful sleep; at least, you hoped so. Marcus handed you one of the glasses and then moved over to watch him sleep. You took a sip from the glass and began to remove the fancy hairpins from your hair.

"You're afraid he might become emperor..." he said, covering him with the small blanket. "More than anything," you replied as you placed the hairpins into the box. "The weight of such responsibility is immense, Marcus. There will always be those who seek the throne and those who would want to harm him and manipulate him. How can I live with this fear? How can we live?" When you turned your head to look at him, you found him gazing back at you. He stood up and stepped toward you.

"I will be so relieved if Geta gets married as soon as possible," you said, yawning involuntarily. It had been a long and tiring day, first because of Hanno and then Geta.

Marcus's big hand reached behind you, grabbing your hair and sweeping it over your shoulder, leaving your neck exposed. Your tiredness instantly faded, replaced by something else entirely.

"I can't disagree with that." You swallowed as his warm breath licked your neck. And you gasped as his lips found your jugular. You closed your eyes, surrendering yourself to the sanctity of his touch. He wrapped his arms around you, under your arms, and pressed himself against you. One hand slid down, under the fabric of your tunic, touching your folds. You moaned quietly as he stroked your clit with his thick fingers. "Are you ready to be mine, princess?" His tone was so seductive that you would be damned if you did refuse him.

"I am-mmph..."

Your delighted moan was muffled as he mashed his mouth against yours, aggressive and lustful. You shuddered and wrapped your arms around his neck without missing a beat, mewling submissively even as his hands left your clit and moved to your hips instead, grabbing them firmly and sending jolts of excitement up your stomach. He then lifted you up making you laugh unashamedly as his hands squeezing your butt-cheeks beneath fabric even as your lips stayed connected. His tongue prodded your lips and you parted them instantly, letting out a horny whine as it invaded your mouth and dominated yours with embarrassing ease. As if to comply with that he held your ass more firmly, that being the only warning you got before he roughly laid you down on the bed. The little one's cooing made you break the kiss. But when you looked at him he seemed happy in his sleep. You whispered to him as Marcus' impatient fingers quickly grasped the hem of your tunic. “I love this tunic of mine, so please be gentle.”

“With your tunic maybe, but not with you.” He said grinning, sending a shiver of pleasure down your spine. He leaned down, his lips grazed down your collarbone, breath hot against it, and a moan rolled off of your tongue as he kissed the top of your breast and then sucked upon it harshly. You found yourself afraid that might be hurt but it didn’t.

The thought was purged from your mind though as he swiftly snatching your other nipple up in his mouth. You gasped, your hand ending up in his curly hair and tugging it; utterly melting as you felt his tongue swirl around repeatedly before he gave it a wet-sounding suck, tugging it out until your nipple sprung from his lips and left your breast jiggling a little. His face placed between your breasts a mere second later, growling lustfully as he rubs them and tickled you with his hot breaths. He didn't stay there for long. Planting another few quick kisses upon your flesh then with a rush of eagerness, he undressed himself, his movements fast, impatient. Simply making you aroused more.

Just like he said before, he wasn't gentle when he grabbed you by the hips and pulled you towards him. He had just placed your legs over his shoulders when a soft cooing stopped him. You both looked at each other, remembering that there were three of you in the room now.

“How about we skip this part for now?”

Marcus smiled and kissed your knee. “I'll make it up to you, I promise.”

He leaned down and kissed you; it was passionate, tender, eager, and even a little rushed.

But then, however, there was his erection resting against your stomach, precum dripping onto your flesh. You ran one hand through the precum and along the length. He gasped at the touch, pulling away from the kiss. You met his eyes as you brought him to your entrance. He grinned, baring his teeth.

“Eager I see,” he said in a heated whisper.

With a playful grin, you pressed your finger to his lips and whispered, "Acta non verba, my love.”

Then, with a seductive lean back and spreading your legs, invited him in. He had his need pushed against your clit, along the sensitive skin, through your wetness. You cooed, writhing for him to feel inside you. He gave you one more kiss before shifting slightly to grab the backs of your knees and spread your legs wider than you had them. He pulled out a few inches and pushes back in, easing you into his thrusts before he starts picking up and every time he thrust into you, stretching you, made you crave more and more. Sweat dripping down your brow as he thrust deeper, lifting you by your knees and bending your legs towards your torso. In this position where you couldn’t move very much, he took control, finding sweetest spot with his aching need. You couldn’t stop moaning and mewling, crying out his name as he goes faster.

When your moans became louder, his big hand covered your mouth, silencing you. "Sssh, you'll wake him up, love," he whispered, finding your ear through your hair. "And I don't want our fun to end just yet." You nodded and continued to moan into his palm. He kept covering your mouth with his hand as he carried on thrusting, each one deeper than the last. He was sweating from his brow and the sweat was dripping onto your chest. He wiped the sweat with the back of his hand and pushed his hair back, but it was no avail; it swayed downwards as he leaned down to give you a messy kiss.Then you two drew back, inhaled a breath, and reconnected. Eventually he removed his hand from your mouth, he just wanted to bring you both to the climax, he didn't care about anything else at this point. Effortlessly, he threw your legs over his shoulders and leans forward, bracing his hands on either side of your shoulders and taking you just right. He then reached around to get his fingers on your clit, rubbing relentlessly.

“Marcus” you cried, “Marcus please—”

You can barely heard him over the wet-sound of slamming against your body. “That’s right, my love. Say my name. Come for me.”

All the stimulation gets to you and you obey. You gush on his length to the point where he has to pull out and watch as you make a complete mess of the bed. The rest of your body trembling, hips thrusting on their own, and fingers clawing at sheets. You scream at this point and he has to cover your mouth again, but this time not with his hand, but with his mouth. You moan and whimper into his mouth, hoping that you have not woken the little one up.

"Look at that," he groaned, rubbing your throbbing cunt and you clenched. "Well done, my princess. You’re a good girl.”

Desperate for his need and his orgasm, you pressed your heels against his back. "Inside. Inside me, Marcus, please."

Saying your name, he suddenly plunged back in. You responded with another scream, arching your back and taking every hard thrust. His breath faltered and his moans grew louder. And... You'd just had a second orgasm, but if he kept it up, you'd have a third.

“Wish me to fill this beautiful cunt of yours up…hmm?”

“Yes,” you said between his thrusts, “Yes, my love, fill me in, Gods!”

“I will gladly grant your wish…” He snarled.

Marcus' at his loudest when he came inside you, giving you everything you want and more. As he pushed himself into you, you come again. This time there is no concern or intention to be careful not to make a loud noise. You tightened around him with every thrust, moaning with him and accepting the messy kiss he giving you. It was hard to kiss back when your breath is stolen, when every emotion hits all your nerves and you can’t think straight. He didn’t move once he gives you his last drop. A moment passes where the two of you simply catch your breath. And eventually, as a result of all this noise, the final expected happened and little Marcius began to cry.

You both looked at him, panting, and then back at each other, grinning triumphantly and mischiveously. When you feel the soreness hit, you wiggled your legs and Marcus got the hint. He carefully placed your legs back on the bed. You whimpered as he pulled out, and you could feel the mix of fluid drip out of your cunt. When Marcius started crying louder, you tried to sat up, but your most sensitive parts were throbbing a bit and your legs felt numb.

“Marcus, will you give him to me? I can’t feel my legs.”

He kissed your cheek. “Forgive me. Couldn’t help myself.”

You smiled. “Couldn’t help myself, either.”

He gave you a kiss before getting out of bed and you leaned against the headboard while you watched him tenderly take Marcius in his arms and kiss his head, caressing his little nose with his own. It was something you never got tired of watching, it was so sacred, so beautiful. Before Marcus placed him in your arms, he put a pillow behind your back and kissed the top of your head as you smiled up at him. He was rough when he made love to you, but he always blew your mind with his incredible gentleness and tenderness afterwards.

After having breakfast together in the room, you and Marcus visited the stables. You had become quite skilled at grooming lately, and it was incredibly peaceful. However, there was another reason for your visit. While you were absent-mindedly combing Unio's mane, thinking about what Hanno had said. You were having second thoughts about going to the place he mentioned. Would he have to escape again to get there? How had he ended up in Rome? How did he become a gladiator? You were startled by Marcus' touch on your waist. Unio let out a neigh as you accidentally tugged on her mane. To soothe her, you gently touched her nose and gave her a kiss.

"I see you really enjoy that, my lady," Marcus said with a warm smile.

You returned his smile. "I do. It has such a calming effect." You tapped the brush to remove the hair from its bristles.

Marcus let out a light sigh. "Well, I must admit that what I'm about to ask you to do might not be as calming." You raised your eyebrows in curiosity and narrowed your eyes when you spotted the wooden sword in his hand. "But this... it's made of wood..."

"I wouldn't hand you a sharp sword for your first lesson," he said firmly.

You placed the brush in the basket and picked up the sword, clutched it with both hands, examining. It was heavier than it looked. "It feels a bit like a toy," you murmured.

He touched yours with his wooden sword. "Rule number one: Whatever weapon you wield, you must forge an unbreakable bond with it; treat it as part of your arm.”

Your caring husband, Marcus, had quickly transformed into your stern General, Acacius.

"Yes, General," you muttered.

He smirked. "If you master this, you can begin using a real steel sword.” he encouraged you. "Remember, finding balance is essential in your early lessons."

"Balance?"

He nodded. "It's like dancing—using the right steps. Come with me; I'll show you what I mean." He took your hand and led you out of the stables, where he had taught you how to use a knife.

"Aren't you supposed to be on duty today?" you asked.

"I am, but I have time before I take my leave. Come."

When you reached the wide open space, Marcus took the wooden sword from your hand and stood in front of you.

"First, you must improve your agility. Catch it, princess!"

He tossed one of the swords towards you, but you weren't able to catch it, so it fell to the ground. “Whoa!” You bent down to pick it up. “Why did you... "It's not as if I'm planning to attack my enemy by throwing it."

He narrowed his eyes. “I see you’re feeling confident. Alright, what are you going to do with it? How will you use it? Tell me.”

"I should just stick the pointy end into my enemy, right?"

He grinned smugly. “Do you really think it’s that simple, my lady?”

You shrugged. “It shouldn’t be too difficult.”

He opened his arms. “Very well then, strike me.”

With both hands, you gripped the sword tightly. Suddenly, you realized it wasn't as easy as you had thought, but you were determined not to embarrass yourself in front of him. Marcus struggled to hold back his laughter at the expression on your face. Ignoring him, you raised the sword and lunged toward him. As you initiated your attack, he effortlessly pushed your sword away with a flick of his hand, barely moving his arm. You staggered backward, nearly dropping the sword.

"It’s not as easy as it seems, is it? That’s why I’m telling you to focus on your balance first. In time, you’ll understand what I mean, and when I throw it to you, it will be much easier to catch. Now, think of it as a real sword and show me how you hold it. Try again." This seemed simple, but it quickly became clear from the look on his face that I was doing something wrong. “Now you are standing wrong. Turn your body side-face, yes.”

He came over and put one hand on your waist and the other under your chin. "Just, so, yes." Then he looked at your feet. "Spread your legs."

"I can do that," you said, grinning widely, thinking about things you did in your bedroom, like how he spreads your legs in there.

Be ready to be mine...

He kissed your cheeks, where they had blushed, and your naughty thoughts were replaced by a desire.

"Focus, princess."

"Apologies. I was thinking about something..." You batted your eyelashes.

He brought his face closer to yours. "Are you trying to get away from your training by seducing me, hm?"

"Maybe I am." You giggled.

"Well, you succeeded."

He leaned in and kissed you on the lips.You let go of the sword and put your arms around his neck, and the moment you touched his hair, the inevitable thing happened again – he lost it! He wrapped his arms around your waist, deepening the kiss. You let his tongue enter your mouth, and everything else in the place and the reason you were there flew away, there was only him and your warm breath through your nostrils, caressing each other's cheeks. Your hearts were beating rapidly with excitement. When you heard footsteps approaching, your lips suddenly stopped moving, breaking the kiss. Pulling himself back with some difficulty, he smiled at you, licked his lips, then turned his head in that direction.But you didn't, instead, you ran your eyes over his side view, admiring his gorgeous face.

"General!"It was Cato's voice.You pulled your hands away, but Marcus' hands were still around your waist.

"Cato, is something wrong?”

"I've been informed the Council is meeting today, sir. And Emperor Geta said he'd like to see you there during the session." Then he looked at you. "You too, my lady."

You frowned.

"Thank you Cato, get the carriage ready then."

"There's no need," you said firmly. "I’d better not attend."

Marcus lifted his eyebrows. "Do you have other plans, my lady?"

You looked away. "It’s an official council meeting. I don’t think there’s any need to disturb the Senate members with the presence of a woman. Besides, I planned to visit my cousin Paulina today."

For some reason, your tone sounded so convincing that it even surprised you.

"Is that so? You didn't mention that," Marcus said.

"I was going to..." you lied, feeling a wave of self-hatred wash over you.

Marcus's eyes weren't skeptical as they roamed over your face. "Well, I think it's better that you're there than at the council."

"I agree. Come, let me help you dress appropriately," you replied, grabbing his arm. He smiled, allowing you to pull him inside.

After Marcus left the villa with Cato, you made your decision to meet Hanno. You nursed Marcius and handed him over to Norell, then went up to your chambers to get dressed. It was almost noon by this time. Everyone in the villa believed you were going to visit your cousin, including Decima, who accompanied you in the carriage. However, when the carriage was halfway to its destination, you ordered the driver to take you through the streets of Rome instead. You put on your cloak, ignoring Decima, who looked at you in astonishment.

“I thought we were going to your aunt Antonia’s house?”

“No, we’re not.”

She opened her eyes wide. “Are we going to stalk the general again?”

You glared at her. “No, of course not.”

“Then where are we going?”

You tied the laces of your cloak and replied, “Decima, trust me and don’t ask questions. I promise I’ll tell you everything later. Stop the carriage!”

The coachman obeyed your command and halted the carriage on the east side of the Colosseum. The gladiator school was on its left, and the popina was at the corner of the street.

“There are no houses or shops here,” she muttered.

“I know,” you said, pulling the hood over your face and stepping out of the carriage. Decima stood up as well, but you stopped her.

“I’ll go alone.”

“But Aurelia—”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be safe. I won’t be long, and Decima, this is between us, alright?”

She nodded. “Fine, but please be careful.”

“I will be,” you replied with a smile and began walking into the crowd. You weren’t wearing much jewelry; the last thing you wanted was for someone to realize you were their princess.

The street was less crowded than you had expected. Many people were discussing today’s council meeting and moving at a brisk pace toward the Roman Forum. Perhaps most people had gathered there, which would work to your advantage. When a group of passersby glanced your way, you quickly turned your head.

“Did you hear that General Acacius is attending too?” one person said.

“Yes, I wonder if the princess will be there,” another replied.

“We’re going there to see her anyway,” one continued.

“I think she will definitely attend,” another added.

“I’ll finally get to see her up close,” someone else said.

You smiled to yourself. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled quietly.

After passing through a few more people, you looked around. You were now passing the gladiator school, and you shuddered as you remembered how you had last been imprisoned there. Then you thought of Hanno—how did he end up here? It was just one of a thousand questions you wanted to ask him. You quickened your pace, and when you saw the popina’s signboard, your heart began to race with anxiety.

The harmonious music, accompanied by the sounds of laughter and conversation from within, extended into the street, fostering an inviting atmosphere but not for everyone, apparently.

Please don't let anyone recognize me. Please don't let anyone recognize me.

You pushed open the double-leaf door. The people standing nearby turned their heads to see who was coming in, but they couldn't see your face and soon returned to their chat. One person glanced at you with curiosity but quickly looked away. Suddenly, the music stopped, and you froze, but it had nothing to do with your entrance—it was just a coincidence.

Soon, the music began again. You took a deep breath of relief and moved forward, scanning the tables one by one. You noticed a man in a black cloak sitting alone in the corner. You moved there and tilted your head to see his face, but first, you glanced around to ensure no one else was sitting alone. It must have been him. You leaned toward him and whispered, “Hanno?"

You were so startled when the man looked up at you that you jumped back. A bulky man with numerous scars on his face scrutinized you and then raised his eyebrows with a low curse. “Am I high already?” he asked himself.

“Oh, forgive me. I thought you were someone else,” you stammered.

He grinned widely, showing all his teeth. “I’ll be whoever you want me to be, beautiful.”

Just as you were about to turn away, his large hand grabbed your wrist. “Come on, sit down and have a drink with me—just one drink.” He pulled you toward the chair.

Was he drunk? At this time of day?

You struggled to free your arm, but you couldn’t even budge it. “Let go of my arm!”

“Come now, don’t be stubborn. A beauty like you doesn’t come along every day.”

“Look, I’m a married woman, and you wouldn’t even want to know who my husband is.”

He frowned.

“Let her go!”

You turned your head in the direction of the familiar voice. Hanno had pushed the man's arm away. “Damn it, Aldhard, didn’t I tell you not to drink after the opium?”

You crossed your arms. “So you two know each other?”

Hanno rolled his eyes. “Don’t ask.”

The man stood up and looked at both of you. “You little shit. You never told me you had such a beautiful friend. So that’s why you’re always running away, huh?”

“Go back and get some rest. You can’t go out in the arena tomorrow like this.”

The man huffed as he turned to walk away. “That’s why I’m drinking, you bastard.” He left, muttering curses in his native language that you had never heard before.

Hanno turned to you. “Forgive me for being late. But it’s hard to get out of there.”

You sat down in a chair and exhaled deeply. “Hanno, it’s strange to see you here after all this time. Especially as a gladiator.”

He settled into the chair where his friend had just been sitting. “It’s quite the story,” he said, raising his arm to catch the keeper’s attention. “I’m surprised you came, you know.”

“It wasn’t easy,” you replied.

“I guess you came secretly from your husband.” He smiled crookedly.

“I came secretly from everyone. You know why.”

"Yes, I was quite surprised to hear that. I can't believe you're a princess. I always knew you were special, but..."

A little later, a young man brought you a jug of wine and two glasses, along with a platter of chicken for two.

"The chicken here is really good. Come on, eat,” he said, spooning some onto his plate, opening his mouth wide, and starting to eat with appetite.

You reminisced about the meals you had shared together in the tavern back in Egypt.

“Forget about me and tell me about yourself,” you said as you dipped your spoon into the food. “How did you get to Rome? How did you become a gladiator, and where have you been all this time?” You brought the spoon to your mouth, not because you were hungry, but because the smell was enticing, and you wanted to taste it.

He didn’t look at you and continued to eat. “I was brought here by your husband.”

You nearly choked on your morsel, coughed, and sipped your wine. “What did you say?”

“As a prisoner of war.”

“Or did you fight alongside the Persian army against Rome?” Your voice was louder than you intended, causing nearby people to turn their heads. Hanno glared at them, and they quickly looked away.

“Hanno, what happened? Tell me everything.”

His blue eyes clouded, and his expression hardened. “Alright. That night…” He took a deep breath. “I mean, the night the rebels raided the Roman military camp. By the time I got there, they had taken all the Medici from the Valetudinarium.”

“Oh, right. Where were you that night?”

“I heard one of my friends was injured during the revolt, so I decided to go help him. When I entered the room to tell him I was leaving, Vicius mentioned that you were asleep. That turned out to be the last time I saw both you and him." He took a sip of his drink, looking gloomy. "The next day, Vicius' body was brought to the Valetudinarium along with the other Medicii. I personally took care of his funeral, all of his friends were deeply saddened. However, what was even more haunting was what they said. They claimed they saw you among the prisoners. They had killed him, and not only that, but they had also taken you as a prisoner. I was so angry that I ran to the harbor, but I couldn't catch up. The Roman ships had already sailed out to sea, just about to disappear over the horizon."

Your eyes filled with tears as you recalled that night.

"I apologize for not coming here sooner. My mother was sick, and I was occupied with her treatment, but I couldn’t save her. There were also many other patients to care for. Vicious was a skilled medicus; he was irreplaceable."

“Hanno, I'm sorry.”

“Aya, or Aurelia,” he said with a sad grin. “Why did you marry him? How did it happen?”

“Hanno, look…”

He interrupted, “After what happened to Vicius, all I could think about was coming here, finding you, and running away with you. I was certain you would be sold into slavery, and I couldn't sleep at night knowing you might be living a terrible life.”

“I wasn’t, actually. I love him, Hanno. He’s my life now. "We were planning to come here with Vicius, and now you know the specific reason why.”

“So, it turns out you and Vicius had a secret, huh?” He laughed. “All that time you were hiding in the Valetudinarium, trying hard to pass as a man, never going out in public, and his overprotectiveness toward you… I mean, it was obvious there was a reason, but I never expected you to be a Roman princess. I don't know what to say.”

“I found out when I came here, but how did you know I was married to the general?”

“Last week, I saw the two of you at the temple. People are always talking about you two. That day, they made us put on a little fighting demonstration at the Roman Forum. Honestly, I had a hard time recognizing you at first; you looked quite different from before.”

“I’m still the same person.”

“I doubt that.”

“What do you mean?”

“You're different; you've changed. Maybe your experiences have altered you, just like they have for me.”

“Why did you fight with the Roman army? You're not a soldier.”

“They needed a medicus and promised high payment. And you think I can't fight or something? Have you forgotten how many times I saved you from those filthy rats? They kept saying you were a scrawny young man and forced you to fight with them. Don’t you remember how I beat them up, girl?”

You laughed. “Yes, I remember.”

“Fighting against Roman soldiers seemed tempting to me. They said the rebels had joined forces with a small army in Syria organized by a Roman consul.”

“Macrinus?”

“No idea. I've never met him.”

“You can't. He's dead.”

“I bet your husband killed him, great Roman general.” He said mockingly.

You frowned and said, “Please don't talk about him like that. He's the bravest, most honorable man I know, and he's not as bad as you think. He’s also kind and understanding.”

“How touching. He wasn’t so innocent when he slaughtered hundreds on the battlefield, you know. He was like a beast.”

“It’s called war. What did you expect him to do? That’s what you did too—you fought and killed people, didn’t you? Besides, Vicius was killed by one of his soldiers, and he avenged him by killing that soldier in return.”

“But he took you prisoner—made you a slave.”

“He didn’t know who I was.”

Suddenly, he was distracted by the loud laughter of the women at the next table. You both turned your heads to look in that direction. Hanno reached towards you and pulled your hood more in front of your face.

“Don’t stare at them; we’ll get in trouble if they recognize you. And the ones sitting right behind us? They’re Spaniards. Believe me, they hate the Romans as much as I do. So whatever you do, don’t attract their attention.”

You didn't even want to ask why, but it was clear that the men and women were romantically involved, and the Spaniards seemed to be quite fierce characters. Suddenly, you realized that coming here might not have been such a good idea.

“Hanno, who bought you? If I talk to your master, maybe I can persuade him to set you free.”

He laughed. “I’m not a Roman, but I know that’s not how it works here. Tomorrow, I must fight in the Colosseum and win. That will bring me one step closer to my freedom.”

Your chest suddenly tightened. “But the Colosseum is too dangerous.”

“Are you worried about me?” he grinned. “Don’t be. I can take care of myself.”

“I’ll talk to my brother. I don’t know; there must be a way.”

He laughed hysterically. “Your brother? You mean the emperor? It’s not like he’s going to care about me. I don’t suppose you’ve heard the rumors about him.”

“He’s changed. He’s an emperor who cares about his people now.”

“Is he now?”

“Tell me his name. Who bought you?”

“Aya,” he growled.

“Tell me.”

“What will your husband say if you buy me?”

That was the real question. You sighed nervously.

“That’s what I thought.”

He raised his glass to his lips and drank it all.

Then he looked back over your shoulder. “Shit.”

“What the—”

“When I say so, we’ll run outside together, alright?”

“What? Why?”

“They realized I escaped. Again.”

"But why am I running? You're the one they're looking for."

"It's him! Stop right there!"

You stood up and looked over. It was the same guys from last time; they knew who you were. You tensed and took a step back, but suddenly you realized someone was touching you on your hips. In a fit of rage, you turned around and hurled his drink in his face.

"Do you think I'm a whore, you filthy bastard?"

As the man angrily wiped the wine from his face, you immediately regretted what you had done. When he stood up, the others did too. “Jódete, maldita perra (Fuck you, stupid whore)!”

“Watch your mouth, cabrón!” Hano yelled.

Your eyes and mouth widened when the men drew their swords, and you instinctively hid behind Hanno.

"I suppose you have a reason to run now," Hanno whispered to you.

One of the men who had come to take Hanno held up a hand to stop them.

"Return to your table now," he ordered.

“Do not tell me what to do, maricón!”

“What did you say?” He drew his sword.

“He said arsehole to you,” Hanno translated with a grin.

“Damn Spinards, I shall cut your tongue!”

Hanno seized the opportunity amidst the chaos and pushed him onto the other man, causing both of them to collapse to the floor. The impact knocked over a table, spilling drinks and food everywhere and creating quite a mess. Suddenly, the atmosphere shifted dramatically, and everyone began to fight with one another. Hanno grabbed your arm and shouted, “Time to run!" He pulled you along as you both fled the scene.

When you got out into the street, you kept running faster, because the other men kept running after you.

“So you can speak spanish!” you shouted as you ran alongside him, your eyes scanning for the carriage.

“Only swear words!” he replied.

“Ugh! I hate you!”

“I’m not the one who spilled his drink all over his face!”

“You're the one swearing at them!”

The guys chasing after you were shouting something in spanish, and it was not hard to guess what they were saying.

“Aren’t you a gladiator? Can’t you fight them off?”

He laughed nervously. “I don’t think you realize how many there are.”

You looked back, and your eyes widened when you saw at least ten people.

“Where the hell did they come from?”

“I warned you about Spaniards! They are overprotective!”

“The carriage is just over there!” You said, pointing east of the Colosseum. “If we can get there-“

“No, not the carriage! They'll catch us before we get on!”

“What are we going to do?”

“I know a safe place; if I hide you there, I can escape them myself.”

When you looked back, they were still running insistently. Desperately, you searched for the carriage, realizing you had no choice but to follow Hanno. Fortunately, you soon reached the place he had mentioned. It was the barn of a house.

“The owner is old and deaf; he doesn’t come to the barn much,” Hanno said as he removed hay bales one by one to create a hiding spot for you. “Come, you’ll be safe here.”

“But for how long? What will you do?”

“I'm going to make them follow me down the road and I'm going to grab a sword from one of them and fight them. After I get them away from here, you run to your carriage, alright?”

You nodded. “Be careful.”

He smiled and looked back as the voices drew closer. "Hide well," he said before leaving the barn. You could hear his footsteps followed by those of his pursuers. You waited patiently until all the sounds faded away. Soon, the only noise was the gentle bleating of the lambs.

Standing up, you began to push the hay bales aside one by one. The smell was almost unbearable; if you were pregnant like before, you would have been violently sick. You brushed the straw out of your hair with your hands. Your legs ached from running, but you knew you had to reach the carriage no matter what.

You slowly stepped into the courtyard of the house, observing your surroundings. Fortunately, no one was in sight, except for the chickens, which, frightened by your presence, scattered away. The street was quiet, with just a few people who looked at you with curiosity, but you were too exhausted to care. After walking a bit further, you realized that you were very close to the street where the carriage was located, so you picked up your pace and walked there with relief.

Decima asked you questions along the way that you struggled to answer, and you responded as simply as possible. However, your real fear was what you would face when you got home—your clothes and everything else were a complete mess. You needed to get home before Marcus arrived. You couldn't help but worry about Hanno. Would he be able to fight those guys off? Would he be able to save himself? You had known him well since childhood, and you shared many memories together that were impossible to forget. No one could have predicted that things would turn out this way; it felt like a cruel twist of fate.

When you arrived at the villa, it was already evening. You and Decima got out of the carriage and walked into the courtyard. As soon as you stepped inside, you froze. Marcus was standing in the center, still wearing his formal white toga. He struggled to drape the shawl over his shoulder, as he didn't often wear this type of toga. However, the stern and confused expression on his face wasn't due to this difficulty; it was because he saw you with your clothes in disarray.

"Leave us alone," he said sharply, his gaze fixed on you. There was no one else around; he had directed that command at Decima. You bit your lip as she left the courtyard, leaving the two of you alone. He stepped towards you, inspecting you from head to toe so quietly that you wondered if he was trying to suppress his anger. Finally, he exhaled a deep, ragged breath, his dark brown eyes boring into yours.

"Where have you been?" he asked in a deep, almost growling voice. "I need an explanation right now."

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hyunsvngs · 2 days ago

Text

𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚, 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 - han jisung x fem!reader

wc: 2.4k

a/n: pwp based off of two images i saw of jisung's boobs in concert and then i went haywire and wrote THIS... MERRY CHRISTMAS !!! 🎄🎅 please read the warnings! 18+ SMUT MDNI!!

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

sw: ROLEPLAY where jisung is santa for no particular reason, nipple play (m rec), oral (m rec), fingering, unprotected sex, creampie (i’m having a white christmas!), dirty talk, overall kind of not extreme but maybe a bit of d/s dynamics (both switchy)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

you don’t know what game you’re playing tonight.

jisung’s due back home any minute now. he’s been gone a few hours, last minute christmas shopping with friends, and he claimed he had a surprise for you. you asked to go with, claiming you needed to get a few things too, but jisung had simply told you he had a plan. it’s unusual behaviour for him, but he’s always doing sweet things for you - this could just be another one of those times.

still, you’re bent underneath the tree placing presents in nothing but your nightie and some fuzzy socks. you’ve had to light the fireplace to warm yourself up, but jisung always likes it when it’s cozy anyway. you expect that he’ll arrive home tired, but wanting, from the infrequent texts he’d sent you about missing you. there’s nothing you like more than snuggling with your favourite person on your favourite holiday, even if he does get a little too warm too quickly and ends up being more of a human radiator than anything else.

once you’ve finally found places for all of the gifts, you’re able to wriggle yourself outwards. with the multicoloured lights on and the fireplace lit, along with your many other trinkets… well, it may look like christmas has exploded in your living room. still, you’ve always loved christmas. you adjust a little santa ornament on your fireplace and allow yourself to lay on the couch, pulling a thick blanket over your body. it’s comfortable.

unfortunately it may be a little too comfortable. you appear to have dropped off, because when you wake up it’s a little darker outside. you hear the click of the lock, the sound of the door swinging open and heavy boots stomping in. you sit up, drowsy with sleep but ready to greet your boyfriend.

a few hums are heard from the door, soft and melodic, and you smile. it’s nice. you push yourself up, padding over to the front door, and- oh.

santa’s here.

sure, he looks a little different. under the fluffy white beard and velvet red costume you can catch glimpses of him. a snippet of black ink across honey toned skin when he moves, the sight of his chain dangling beneath the fabric - it’s him, your santa claus, you know it, and suddenly it all makes sense.

“santa!” you grin, walking over to wrap your arms around his middle. he lets out a small ‘ooph’, pretending he’s winded, but two toned arms wrap around your frame right back. “you’re here! early, too.”

“i had to be early for my favourite girl,” you feel the rumble of his chest when he speaks against your ear, and you nuzzle the fabric of his suit. over the time you’ve known your santa, you’ve learned he can be a little sleazy - you’re pretty sure he’s making his voice deeper on purpose, and his fingertips are already tugging up on your nightie to check if you have panties on. it doesn’t surprise you. “why don’t we go take a seat?”

you’re guided back over to your sleeping spot with a firm palm on your back, and you realise he’s got his gloves on too, black faux leather that you can feel even through your nightie. you stumble a little and santa catches you, using the position to sit down and pull you down with him.

one of those sinful gloved hands come up to push your hair out of your face. it feels a little fucked up you’re getting aroused over this, over fucking around with someone who isn’t really your boyfriend, but he meets your gaze with his own. the look in his eyes lets you know that it’s all intentional. “have you been nice this year, baby?”

“i’ve been so nice this year, santa,” you wiggle onto his lap, legs splaying over the side. you receive a gummy smile in return and the feeling of his hand moving up your thigh. it’s sleazy, and you’re slicking up already. it smears against your thighs. “don’t you remember? just last week, i fingered your asshole until-“

“al-right,” he stammers. “doing naughty things isn’t very nice, y’know?! it’s actually the polar opposite. hah, polar.”

his facade is cracking, and you giggle, letting your hands run over his chest. you can feel the muscles beneath his suit. “i thought it was nice, santa. you seemed to like it. a lot, actually, if the noises were telling at all.”

“u-um, you’re not- this isn’t how this is meant to go,” his eyes are wide and ever so brown, the multicoloured lights bouncing off of them. he looks so earnest, almost innocent - if you’re pretending you can’t feel his cock hardening underneath your ass. “i’m meant to- you’re- baby.”

you’re already moving, swinging your legs back over to kneel on the floor in front of him. despite his protesting, he’s letting you, always pliant. his arms fall to his sides and his knees kick apart. his boots make a heavy thud on the wooden floor, the same platform boots you thought he’d retired years ago, and you want to ask him about them but he’s moving your hands to his cock.

while your santa is pliant, you are too, and you give in.

you pull his trousers down, letting the waistband snap just underneath his balls. the pressure pushes his cock upright for you, hard and plump and leaky, and you engulf it with your mouth without a further thought.

“this is why y-you’re my favourite,” he gasps shakily, thighs spreading further. with a flick of his hand, the red velvet jacket falls open, and you’re met with the tattooed honey skin you’ve been craving all along. he’s built, chest plump enough to make your mouth water, and he rubs his thumb over his nipple while you suckle on his cockhead. “that’s it, my sweet baby. suck santa’s cock, just like that.”

your jaw aches already, head reeling from how fast everything is going. you pull off with a wet pop, and with your spare hand you stroke the shaft erratically, your spit acting as lubricant. it’s all too wet for him and his hips buck upwards into your grip. a sharp whine leaves his lips, preceding the heavy breaths that he lets out.

you can’t help but let your other hand move down to his balls, running over the taut skin there. his thighs shake, and you pump harder, squeezing deliberately to watch how precum forms on the head.

“come and kiss me,” he orders, pushing your hand away to replace it with his own. he looks the image of debauched, cockhead ruddy red and sensitive, and he pulls you upwards impatiently to his mouth. you’re laying over him like this, tits pressed against his through your nightie, and he finally leans up to press his lips against yours. immediately, the kiss is filthy, his tongue pressing into your mouth with the deep moans and muffled noises he lets out at the feeling of his own grip.

it’s not long before he’s pushing the same gloved hand past your nightie again, wet from your spit and his precum, finding that you definitely are not wearing panties. he moans into your mouth again, digits finding where you’re wet and aching for him. his lips clack against yours messily as he pushes two fingers inside of you - it’s just a precaution, not meant to be anything more than a quick stretch. still, when your fingers scrabble for purchase on his chest and your nails dig into the plump flesh, he finally pulls away from the kiss and sinks a third finger inside of you. the faux leather is warm from his natural body heat, and you gasp, hips grinding into his palm rhythmically.

“f-fuck, that’s- you’re stretching my pussy out so good, santa,” you keen, keeping your words filthy because you know how he likes it. as you expected, he groans, head tossing back against the sofa and causing his hat to slide onto one side. his cock aches, pressing against your thigh. you can’t help but rub against it just to be cheeky, and his thumb comes to your clit as a punishment. “o-oh! oh, santa, please, will you give- give me more? i want your cock, please!”

“yeah, of course, my baby, of course, just- get this off? get it off,” he’s impatient, gripping at your nightie and pulling it each and every way until you finally sit back and yank it off of your body. instead of wasting any time, your santa is shifting forward, letting his fingers slip from your soaked hole.

he slides inside at the same time his pouty lips envelop your nipple. he’s always been engrossed with your chest, just as much as you are with his. while he’s letting you adjust, his hands move to your ass and squeeze the flesh, eyes fluttering shut as if he’s sated just being inside of you - you know him better than that, though. once you’ve readjusted the red hat on his head, you start to move your hips.

“oh, that’s it,” it’s muffled against your chest, but you hear it, along with the deep groan that leaves his chest. he tries to remain in control, hips moving against yours. “this fuckin’ pussy. been needin’ it all day, baby, you don’t even know.”

“that’s why you came early, santa, right?” you say shakily. the trimmed hairs at the base of his cock rub against your clit in a way that has your eyes watering, and you quicken the pace, pussy clenching down on his shaft. “needed your baby’s pussy too bad. it’s here now, santa, why don’t you just take it?”

“fffuck,” he leans back on his forearms, nodding, eyes scrunched shut. you can tell he wants to take, to force your pussy to take his thick cock, but the feeling of it all is too pleasurable to think. he’s always been a bit too sensitive. you can tell it’s not going to be a long one already, and your hand snakes down to rub fast circles on your clit. “ah, it’s so- it’s so wet, baby, so wet around my cock.”

you moan, moving like a woman possessed, hips rutting into a fast bounce that has him pistoning in and out of you. it’s then that he takes a little more control, grip moving back to your ass to bounce you on top of him. his cock hits deeper like this when he’s pulling you back and forth, and your toes curl in your socks, nose scrunching at the wet sounds reverberating throughout the room. it really is so wet, and you only have your santa to blame.

your hand slaps over your clit just after he opens his eyes, and they narrow, fixating on your pussy. his chest is heaving, and then in a split move, he’s pushing you down flat onto the sofa.

“keep rubbing it, keep- keep going, i need to cum,” he babbles, shaking his head. he’s out of it, and both gloved hands pin your hips down so he can take it from you. his hips move erratically, balls slapping against your skin, and with one hand you do exactly as he said, rubbing the little bundle of nerves until you’re wailing into his neck. the other hand splays against his stomach, almost as if you’re pushing him back, but he’s too strong for that. “it’s- me, now baby, talk to me. talk to hannie, my baby, c’mon.”

“h-hannie,” you hiccup, tears biting at your eyes. “‘s so good, jisungie, baby. i think i’m gonna cum.”

“yeah? why don’t you cum for me?” jisung questions. the white pom pom of his hat swings in front of his eyes, but jisung’s fed up by now, ripping the fabric from his head and tossing it to the side. it’s nice to see him properly, his face unobscured by taunting red fabric, and he gives you a gummy smile.

the sincerity of him, your boyfriend, your one true love is ultimately what does you in. your gummy walls clench around him, finally letting go, and your fingers slide messily across your clit until you’re finished crying through your orgasm. jisung isn’t far behind, and his lips come to kiss your forehead as he holds you close and pumps you full of his cum.

unceremoniously, jisung collapses with another ‘ooph’, sweaty chest pressing against yours. you know it’s intense for him to cum so quickly, and you run your nails up his back underneath the jacket to soothe him. he hums and wiggles his hips around in glee, as if he’s not still inside of you.

“so,” you yawn, letting your nails run down to scratch over his ass. jisung’s hips buck into you this time. “where did the santa idea come from?”

jisung leans back and rubs your nose with his, giggling. “no idea. it wasn’t even the original plan.”

“it wasn’t?” you gasp, attempting to sit up. “then what was it?”

“what was what?” jisung furrows his eyebrows. you groan.

“what was the original plan, jisungie?”

“oh, that!” he slides out of you, and you try not to giggle at the way he surges off of the sofa with his dick still out. “i’ll show you, just wait there!”

you really do giggle when he runs out of the door, tripping over his trouser legs. you think he’s going to return with the surprise, but then he pokes his head round the door, that same wide grin on his face.

“merry christmas by the way, my baby. i love you.”

#juno's fics ♡#han jisung fic #han jisung fanfiction #han jisung smut #han jisung imagines #han jisung x reader #jisung fanfiction #jisung smut #skz scenarios #skz smut #skz x reader #skz imagines #stray kids smut #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines

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munsonsmixtapes · 2 days ago

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What Is This Feeling?

Fiyero Tigelaar x fem!reader

summary: you and Fiyero mistake your attraction to each other as loathing.

From the moment you laid eyes on Fiyero, you loathed him. Your classes were important to you and it seemed like all he cared about was having fun which was obvious by the way he never paid attention in class and the fact that he had been kicked out of every other school he had been to. Everything was a joke to him. He never paid attention in class, always giggling with Glinda about whatever they talked about.

And Fiyero felt the same. He hated how seriously you took everything, never wanting to have just a little fun, which you think he had too much of. You were always either studying or taking some sort of notes. He didn’t understand why you were always so focused on your studies, why you were so tightly wound. He was wondering if he could help you with that somehow.

It seemed like the two of you made your rivalry everyone else’s problem, constantly arguing during meals or in the class you had together, always disrupting the peace between all of the other students. It seemed like everyone but the two of you thought that your feud had been a little silly. And maybe it was, but neither of you saw it that way.

What you didn’t know, though, was that Fiyero was only doing the whole thing just to get a rise out of you. He just wanted to push your buttons, partly because of how easy it was to rile you up, but mostly because you were just so hot when you were angry. There were so many times when he was close to pushing you up against the wall and kissing you stupid. But he never did. He couldn’t. You clearly didn’t like him and a kiss between the two of you would have only ever remained a fantasy.

And because of how obvious it was how into you Fiyero was, Glinda made it her mission to make you no longer a romantic option for him. So she made multiple attempts to set you up with other students at Shiz, but to no avail. You could see what she was doing and didn’t know why it was so important for her to get rid of you when you didn’t even like Fiyero like that anyway. How clear did you have to make it to her that he was all hers.

But still, because she wasn’t totally wicked, Glinda invited you to the Ozdust Ballroom where a lot of the other students were going to do that night. And even though you were suspicious of her intentions, you still decided to go, putting on your prettiest dress and hopping on the last boat that was going to take you to the destination.

The second you got inside, you descended the stairs, completely fascinated by the place, completely unaware of the way Fiyero was looking at you, like you had hung the moon. He was so captivated by you and the pretty blue dress you were wearing that caught the light perfectly. He had to have you and he had to have you right then. It was killing him knowing that you could have possibly gone back to someone else’s room and slept with someone who wasn’t him.

You were distracted by his outfit as you approached him. It was covered in different shapes and bright colors and you couldn’t believe how good it looked on him, almost as if it were made for him specifically. And knowing Fiyero, it probably was.

You’d never tell him, but he looked good, hot, even. He always did and you hated how good he always looked on everything he wore, how he made the school uniform work for him.

“Y/n,” he and Glinda said at the same time, his tone soft, his smile bright, while Glinda looked very unhappy to see you there, sounding nothing but surprised to see you there despite being the one who invited you.

“What are you doing here?” She asked as if reading Fiyero’s mind. This didn’t seem like your kind of scene, but then his eyes caught onto the book in your hand and he couldn’t help but smile at how cute he thought you were. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity and you brought a book? The two of you couldn’t have been more different.

“You invited me,” you reminded the blonde and Fiyero whipped around to look at her in confusion.

“Did you?” He asked, genuinely confused as to why she would have done that since she had been about as subtle as a gun about how much she had disliked you.

“I did,” Glinda nodded with a smile, hoping, praying that it will score her some brownie points with the man standing next to her. Her arm hooked around his, but he quickly pulled away, offering his hand to you, completely catching both you and Glinda off guard.

“Would you like to dance with me, Miss l/n?” he asked and you leaned to the side to lock eyes with the blonde, silently asking if it was okay. She nodded, accepting defeat and Fiyero led you over to the floor where the other dancing bodies were gathered.

You didn’t know what you were doing nor why you were doing it with Fiyero, but you had to admit that you were intrigued. You thought he was into Glinda so you didn’t know why he had offered the invitation to you. That was one thing you were finally going to figure out. Well, two, since you wanted to know so badly why he had disliked you.

You tried to move to the beat as you hugged your book to your chest, wanting to protect it as you moved back and forth, trying to not get hit by the people around you. Fiyero let out a laugh and gently took the book from you, stuffing it into the pocket inside his jacket for safekeeping before taking your hands, pulling you to him.

You tried to follow his dancing as he moved so fluidly, something you could never do. And Fiyero wanted to help, wanted to show you just how easy it was to move the way that he did, especially when he was holding onto you.

Fiyero hesitantly hovered his hands over your waist as if asking permission and you nodded, deciding to give it to him. His hands rested on your hips gently and he moved them back and forth the way he was, both of you looking down at the way he was helping you dance. It wasn’t a way you had ever done it, so fluid and…pretty.

“Just like that,” he said and went to let go, but you grabbed his arms, holding his hands in place. You couldn’t let him go, not then.

“Stay,” you tell him, your voice soft for the first time when it came to speaking to him. “Please.”

“Of course,” he nodded, not able to fight the smile on his face as the two of you moved together around the dance floor.

Before that night, you never would have imagined talking to, let alone dancing with Fiyero as he spun you around the dance floor, the two of you laughing as you did so. You were actually having fun and you realized that when you weren’t arguing with him, Fiyero was actually really funny and sweet.

He spun you out and once he spun you back in, you found yourself pressed up against a wall, gasping as you took in the position he had put you in. You watched his eyes ick back and forth from your lips back to your eyes and you pressed yourself against the wall even further.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked and even though it should have been obvious by his staring at your mouth, your eyes widened at his question.

“Fiyero-“ you cut yourself off, unsure how to answer him, unsure as to why you wanted to let him kiss you.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes immediately. “I should have-“ before he can get too far, you grab onto the collar of his jacket and pull his face down to yours, slotting your lips between his before pulling away, fully aware of what you’d just done.

“I’m sorry.” Now you’re the one to apologize and Fiyero smiles in response.

“Don’t be,” he shook his head. “That was-do that again.” You do as he says and grab onto his collar, kissing him again, but this time for longer and with more intention. He was quick to respond, wrapping his arms around your waist as he smiled against your lips since this was what he’d been wanting for a while now.

His lips were pillowy soft and you’re convinced that you could kiss him for hours and not get tired of it. And Fiyero seemed to want the same as he helped you wrap your legs around him as he licked into your mouth, letting it roam around.

You let out a moan, your hands moving to his hair as he pulled you away from the wall, the two of you disappearing down the hallway as he took you somewhere more private. You were still holding onto him as he pressed you into a corner, trying to hide you from the other party goers. He wanted you all to himself and couldn’t bear the thought of you in another man’s arms.

“What are we doing?” You asked and Fiyero didn’t like your tone. It was demanding, almost accusatory. You were so sweet just a moment ago and now that fire, the pure hatred was back in your eyes.

“I thought we were kissing,” he replied with a laugh, his hands resting on your waist. Your face twisted into a glare and that only made him want to laugh more, but he was more set on making you smile again. He liked seeing it and wished you would do it more often. At least, for him.

“I mean this,” you referred to him then yourself. “We hate each other, Fiyero.”

“I’ve never hated you,” he corrected. “In fact, I really like you. I was only teasing you because you’re pretty hot when you’re mad, especially at me. I actually happen to think you’re sweet.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek. “And smart.” Your other cheek. “And fucking gorgeous.” This time, your lips, a gentle, featherlight touch, giving you every chance to push him off. But you didn’t. You just stood there, letting Fiyero kiss you before he pulled away.

You were glad he was still holding onto you because if he hadn’t been, you would have melted at his words. You never thought he felt that way about you and knowing he was just trying to get a rise out of you because he thought you were hot when you were mad only made your panties damp.

Your arms wrapped around his neck as he pulled away, an apologetic look on his face. Now you felt silly for being mad at him when all the hating was one-sided. And deep down, you didn’t even really hate Fiyero. As you had gotten to know him, the hatred quickly faded, but you were forced to pretend that you disliked him because feeling any other way towards him felt odd.

But now that you were looking at him, that soft look on his face, everything but comfort and fondness melted away and all you could do was kiss him, smiling into it as soon as your lips touched his.

“What is this feeling?” You asked against his lips and Fiyero chuckled.

“I believe it’s called love,” he replied, setting you down on your feet and taking you by the hand. “Now come on, my love, let’s go somewhere more private.”

And Fiyero led you somewhere you could be alone, talking about everything and nothing between kisses, holding each other in your arms, deciding that was the only place you wanted to be for the rest of your lives.

#fiyero #fiyero tigelaar #fiyero tigelaar fluff #fiyero tigelaar x reader #fiyero x reader #fiyero x you #fiyero x y/n #fiyero x fem!reader #wicked

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47lake · 2 days ago

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payback

synopsis: you always loved it when she got frustrated, but something about this night specifically drove you absolutely wild. plus, you had to get your payback.

‼️: sub!top!billie, dom!bottom!reader, restraints, begging, tears, thigh riding, teasing, princess treatment(receiving), more that i’m probably forgetting oops ! w/c 2.6k

continuation of 'im sorry'

the two of you were at dinner with her team, a very classy restaurant with everyone’s tab covered by billie as a way to say thank you for all their hard work throughout the year.

you let your girlfriend pick your outfit for the night, she returned from the closet after very carful consideration with a sleek, long sleeve, deep crimson dress that you had gotten recently. you chuckled and smiled, knowing billie had been waiting for you to wear it. you paired it with some black louboutins bils has surprised you with a few days before.

“they were supposed to be for christmas but i was too excited to see your reaction so, do you like them?!”

she was always so sweet to you, spoiling you with anything she even thought you would like. you pick something up to look at it closer in a store? it’s practically bought already.

you hooked the clasp of a gold necklace you mentioned liking to her once. it arrived at your door a few days later along with the earrings and bracelet to match, accompanied by a proud billie.

you sprayed a few sprays of her eilish no 1 & no 3, the mix of the warm vanilla with the christmas-y scent mixing together in a way that billie loved.

you grabbed your purse, black leather with gold accents, perfect for any outfit. you stepped out of the closet, lipstick in hand, to find your girl adjusting her tie, the perfect shade of red to match your dress. she was wearing a suit, a little baggy to fit her aesthetic, with her new converse, ‘open up the door’ could be read along the side of the sole.

you stood there for a moment, watching her adjust herself, she was perfect. you cleared your throat to make your presence known, she practically did a 360, eager to see how you looked.

“you’re kidding… there’s no way i get to call this gorgeous girl mine, somebody pinch me.”

she took your hand as the two of you closed the distance between yourselves, she spun you in a circle, whistling as she took it all in.

“you know i could sit here and admire you for hours but we’ve gotta go or we’re gonna be late!”

she gripped your hand a little tighter and led you out the door, opening your car door for you and holding her hand out to help you get in. she shut the door softly and ran around to her side, throwing herself inside and slamming her own door.

she waited for you to buckle your seatbelt and touch up your makeup, watching intently as you outlined your lips. thumbing circles against your exposed thigh through the slit that ran up the side of your dress. just as you snapped the mirror shut she started backing down the driveway, her hand never leaving your skin as she turned out onto the street.

you both always had to be touching, you reached over to hold the back of her neck as she held your thigh. you scratched her neck softly, your red acrylics perfectly contrasting her pale skin.

you couldn’t help but watch her, it was your favorite thing. her side profile always so gorgeous, her resting face always seemed so focused, you wondered what she could be thinking about all the time.

the car ahead of you casting a bright red light across her features, helping you clearly see her face light up as she turned her focus to you.

“whatcha looking at?”

“just my girl.”

she smiled wide and returned her gaze to the road, such a sweet girl.

──୨ৎ──

throughout the night you could see your appearance was having more and more of an effect on her.

her eyes lingering on the deep neckline of your dress for just a little too long when you spoke to her.

her mind visibly wandering as you shot her knowing glances.

how intently she watched you even if she was speaking to someone else across the room.

everyone knew billie was infatuated with you, but tonight was something more. something that she couldn’t hide no matter how hard she tried.

her gaze currently fixated under the table, the slit of your dress falling to perfectly showcase your crossed legs and her hand atop your thigh.

“billie?”

“hm?!”

she snapped her head, tuggingher gaze away from your body. you giggled quietly as she ran her hand along your skin, giving you any attention she could.

“your speech?”

“OH! right yes!”

she stood up out of her seat and called attention to everyone within the private room. she thanked her team for all their hard work and patience with her and her career. she went on to tell a few funny stories between her and some of the crew, laughs erupting around the room. billie’s smile gleamed through all the chatter, she waited for everyone to settle down and turned to you.

“and i also want to thank my beautiful girl!”

she reached down for your hand, placing it in her own.

“this girl has helped me through thick and thin, kept me grounded, and helped me truly be me. she has done more for me than she will ever know, and i love her endlessly.”

you couldn’t help but smile, you loved how sentimental she could be, she’s so perfect.

everyone starts clapping as she motions to you after her little spill, smile still plastered on your face, you shook your head and squeezed her hand tightly.

she sat down and people went back to chatting amongst themselves, billies hand quickly returning to your thigh. she leaned closer to you, lips inches away from your ear.

“you look so beautiful, it’s driving me crazy.”

she slid her hand up just enough to show her intentions behind that statement, you laughed and told her to be patient. you loved when she got enamored like this, she couldn’t pull her gaze away from you if she tried.

you lightly placed your hand on top of hers, running your index gently across her middle & ring. you’d think something so simple wouldn’t bother her so much, but you could instantly see her her zone out, god knows what she could be recollecting.

you cleared your throat as someone approached, snapping het out of her thoughts instantly. amusement shown clearly across your features. you kissed her cheek, leaving a vivid red stamp on her face. it paired nicely with the rosy blush now coating her cheeks.

she stumbled over her words as you continued to trace over her fingers with your own, her eyes darting around the room as she tried to focus on what the poor girl in front of her was saying. she answered to the best of her ability and the girl walked back to her seat, billie shot you a look that clearly read ‘you’re so mean!’ you smiled innocently and leaned into her ear.

“i can’t wait until we get home sweet girl, you’re gonna be so good for me.”

her hand flew over her mouth, eyes wide as her mind ran with ideas of what was in store. she cleared her throat and adjusted her hair, trying to keep herself composed, much to her dismay her pink cheeks and hot ears were a dead giveaway.

──୨ৎ──

you and billie both stood outside the door of the restaurant saying your goodbyes to everyone, thanking them for coming and for everything they do. billies team was so big it felt like ages, especially since you were eager to get your hands on her.

the last person got in their car and drove away, billie snatched you up in her arms and practically flew to her car.

she set you down and opened the car door for you, like always, holding her hand out to keep you steady as you got inside. you buckled your seatbelt and she shut the door with care, despite her impatience, running around to her side and flinging herself inside. she started up the car and began to drive while simultaneously buckling her seatbelt, wasting as little time as possible.

“someone’s excited.”

you teased her as you ran your fingers through her hair.

“how could i not be? you only drove me absolutely insane throughout the entirety of dinner!”

“oh hush, you know you like it.”

she turned her gaze away, pretending to be focused on the road as she hid her smile.

she ran her hand up and down your thigh, traveling just a little further up each time. she wanted you so bad it was precious, tracing circles with her thumb and tapping the pads of her fingers against your skin.

you couldn’t help but smile, you uncrossed your legs, looking over to see her attention directed towards your thighs. you felt her hand travel further up than before, making sure to stop before she got carried away. her eyes fixated on the road, bottom lip tucked between her teeth as she smiled.

she pulled into the driveway, getting out of the car quickly and running around to your side. she opened the door and undid your seatbelt for you, eager to get inside already. you giggled as she held her hand out, taking it and stepping out.

you held both sides of her face as she shut the door back, kissing her passionately. her hands cascaded to your waist as yours wrapped around the back of her neck, her touch fell down to your ass as she squeezed softly. you pulled away, thumbing over her cheek as you were met with her pouty eyes and swollen lips.

“my poor baby.”

she tried pull you back in when you grabbed a handful of her tie, leading her to the door. you held your free hand out expectantly as she scrambled through her pockets for the keys, handing them to you with a cheesy smile.

you undid the lock and pulled her a little harder as you led the way to the bedroom, opening the door and walking her over to the bed. you let her out of your grip and she flops down, looking up at you and waiting for her next instruction.

“help me with my dress sweetheart, i can’t reach the zipper.”

she jumps up and obliges happy, slowly pulling the zipper down with one hand, the other resting on your hip. her plump lips trailing soft kisses across your shoulder and your collarbone to eventually land on the nape of your neck. the zipper soon runs out and she pushes the sleeves off your shoulders, spinning you around, kisses now lining the edge of your jaw as she slips your dress off.

“i wanna make you feel good..”

you caress her shoulders and push her away gently, the backs of her knees hitting the edge of the sheets as she is sat on the bed again. you straddle her lap and watch as her eyes linger on your exposed figure, she’s always had a weakness for how perfect you look in lace.

“i know, you’re so eager my love. i promise, you’re gonna make me feel so good.”

she smiles looking up at you, her hands return to your skin, so desperate to please. you loosen her tie and pull it off, unbuttoning her shirt to join the pile forming in the floor. you slide off her lap and get on your knees between her legs, undoing her belt and and button of her pants, sliding them off and throwing them to the slide.

now that you had her on display to match yourself you told her to move back, her back resting against the headboard as she sat up straight, legs out in front her.

“i want you to close your eyes for me sweet girl, you can do that, yeah?”

she nodded intently as her lids fell closed, waiting for your next move. you got up off her lap and pulled the drawer of the nightstand open. you smiled as you pulled out a roll of ribbon, you told billie to be patient and quiet as you tied her wrists to the headboard in a pretty red bow.

you could cum right then, she looked so sweet. her eyes closed, bottom lip tucked between her teeth, your kiss stamp on her face, rosy pink cheeks flush as her arms remained above her head. you quickly slipped your bra and panties off and positioned yourself to be straddled across her thigh.

“open, my love.”

her eyes fluttered open, looking up as she gasped, the realization of her restraint washing over her. she tugged gently against the ribbon, looking at you with a pout painted across her face.

“babyyy?!”

“payback. pretty girl, don’t you remember when you just couldn’t help yourself?”

you watched as she became lost in her own thoughts, recollecting her apologies falling from her lips as she held you down.

she quickly snapped out of her daze when she felt your wet heat touch down on her thigh, her focus instantly fixated on the slow rhythm of you hips against her thigh.

“come on! please! just let me touch you please! i’ll be a good girl, i promise!”

you smiled, your hands finding stability in the sheets as you picked up your pace, dirty moans rolling off your tongue that you knew would drive her wild.

“i know you will, you’re making me feel so good, sweetheart. just sit there and look pretty for me, yeah?”

she nodded slowly and her attention instantly retuned to the puddle of arousal pooling against her skin. you began to roll your hips faster and faster against her. she repeated ‘please’ and ‘fuck’ over and over, not touching you was making her crazy. you loved it.

she started to buck her hips, loving that you were using her to get off.

“such a dirty girl. you’re just watching and can’t control yourself?”

her eyes locked with yours, she looked so sweet when she got needy like this, small droplets fell from her eyes in frustration.

“please let me touch you, please, it’s all i want, please, baby.”

oh. my. god.

you couldn’t refuse that, you untied her pretty bow and tossed it aside.

her hands flew to your hips, positioning one to be able to press circles into your clit with her thumb. she began to guide your hips, picking up at the pace where you had left off.

you laid your head against her shoulder as she rolled your hips faster and faster, moans and whines spilling out of you rapidly as the knot inside of you grew tighter and tighter.

“fuck bils! yes! make me cum!”

she pressed your hips down harder and kept her pace and your body shook in her grasp, she kissed your neck as her pace grew slow, letting you ride out your high. you sighed deeply and laid against her for a moment, catching your breath.

“don’t move.”

she nodded and waited patiently, you took one final breath and got off her thigh, positioning yourself a little further back between her legs. you looked up at her and held her gaze with yours, arching your back in front of her.

“fuck!”

she inhaled sharply as your warm tongue collected all of your pleasure off her skin. you sat up once you were finished, kissing her deeply.

“my good girl, you took your payback so well.”

this one is a bit long but i hope you all enjoy! 🖤

let me know if yall have anything yall wanna see with loser subtopillie 🧟‍♀️

send any requests to my inbox ! 📥

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#billie eilish oneshot #billie eyelash #billie eilish fanfiction #billie x you #billie eilish fanfic #loser sub top billie returns #sub top billie #subillie truther #47lake fic #47lake #billie smut #billie x reader #billie eilish #sub!top!billie #sub!billie #dom!reader #billie eilish fic #boom shakalaka #billie x fem reader

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fawninthesnow · 3 days ago

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𝐍𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞: One Shot

𐙚 Emperor Geta x Empress Fem Reader! 𐙚 18+

Summary: Married to Emperor Geta, you decide to lift his spirits. (No plot smut.)

Warnings/contains: smut, fluff, mentions of violence, f4m, (somewhat) dom fem(?), male masturbation, oral (fem receiving), no aftercare, not proof read

Word Count: 1.3k