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nitannichionne · 4 years ago

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If He Was YOUR Fan, Chapter 21: Face Off (A Henry Cavill Fan Fic)

You were happy to go home with Henry, but your home? It was a shoebox. You are quiet all the way home in the car. He parks his car next to the garage and follows you up the steps to your small apartment.

“Cozy,” He gives an impressed nod.

“Okay,” you chuckle, looking around and shaking your head.

“No, no,” He puts his arms around your waist, kissing your shoulder as Kal sniffs the place over. He sits on the mat by the kitchen. “I think it’s charming, but….” You feel him shrug behind you.

“What?”

“That bed needs testing.”

“Oh,” you giggle. “didn’t think of that.”

“But first—” he turns and walks away.

He can’t go far, and you frown. “What?”

“Want to see your fridge.”

You inwardly cringe, remembering the conversation you had earlier, and remind him. “I’m only here in the morning and evenings on weeknights.”

He goes to the refrigerator and exhales heavily. “Let’s see…” he clucks his tongue. “Hmmm, well at least you grilled chicken strips.”

“Yeah.” You say, forgetting about that.

“Romaine, spinach, radish, kale…tomato, carrot, cucumbers, egss—”

“I have fruit—”

“I see,” he says frowning and opening the cupboard. “Cereal, cookies—”

“From the bakery,” you interject. “Bread, too.” He returns to you and you smile. “Not bad.”

“Not iron rich, either.”

You exhale. “Some of it.”

“Not enough.” He pauses. “You must have salads every night.”

“Just about,” you admit. “I can make us some.”

“Thanks,” he smiles.

You are cutting up ingredients and then you hear him bounce on the bed. “Oh—”

“Oh, a bed desk,” Henry smiles, pulling it onto his lap as he sat on the bed. “Where the magic happens?”

“Magic?”

“The stories?”

You laugh softly. “Yes, I suppose so—”

“Good Lord!” He reaches back.

“I would call that the top hat if the stories are magic.”

He picks up a handful of SD cards, looking at them. “They’re color coded.”

“It’s easier.”

He picks up the case the cards go into. “I can put them back, if you like.”

“Sure.”

You hear him shuffling. “Oooh, so the purple ones are Romance and Sex cards?” He immediately inserts that one.

“Henry--!”

“The Art of Kissing? Joys of Sex? Sensual Massage?” Henry reads. “Bedroom Games?!”

“Research, Henry.”

“Ideas, Fitness, Fighting, Psychology, Spiritualism, Poetry, JPEG’s?” His eyes widen. “You have a library in this case, love.”

“Yeah, wanted to take it all with me.” You confess. “I miss books.”

“You’ve been in Europe for months,” he says. It wasn’t a question.

“Yes.”

“What did you leave behind?”

“Whatever needed leaving.”

“Family?”

“Some I deeply miss, yes.”

“Who, then?”

“Who what?” you bring the salads to the table.

“Are you running from?”

You turn and put the salads down. “Not from the law.”

He pulls you into his arms. “Things have a way of catching up.”

“Let’s hope not.”

You have dinner, binge watching Mrs. Brown’s Boys. Henry offers to take out the trash, and returns with an odd smile on his face.

“Sweetheart?”

“Hmm?”

“I was surrounded by cats?”

“Oh, I’m sorry!” you gasp. You run to the kitchen and pull kibble out from under the sink. “Lots of cats, been feeding them. It started as like, one—”

“And they tell two friends, and they tell two friends?” he jokes softly.

You roll your eyes at him. “And so on, and so on?” You pull out some beat up cake pans and fill one with water, one with the kibble. “I’ll be right back.” You carry the pans down the steps to next to the staircase away from the garage door and set them down. “Dinner!” you sing, and before you can say the second syllable they are in view. You kneel down, lightly petting them as they eat. They are used to you now, and pay no attention to your touch.

Suddenly, one of the males hiss.

You gasp and stand up quickly, never seeing it behave like that. “Gus?” You say and back a step—right into Archer.

“Feeding strays?” Archer asks, putting a garbage bag in the can.

You spin around, now facing him and hoping he’ll leave the cats alone. “Yes, Stella and I have been for some time now.”

Archer sees Henry’s car. “You brought him here?”

“You’re here,” you point out. “You and your brother have a place in town.”

“So…you’re going public?”

You blink. “That’s really none of your business, Archer.”

“Do you think he is really going to fall in with you?”

“Archer, he is the guy from London I met!”

Archer’s eyes widen. “It was him?”

“Yes,” you nod. “I told Stella he was a lookalike, but it was him.”

“His idea?”

“No,” you admit. “but he did invite me to the challenge, if you must know.”

“Can’t you see he’s using you?”

“Can’ you see you’re jealous?”

“Sweetheart?”

You look up and see Henry coming down the steps. “Henry—”

Henry’s eyes lock on Archer’s. “Everything alright?”

You put your hands on Henry’s chest, trying to push him back. “Yes, everything’s—”

“Archer?”

“Fine, fine,” Archer said. Just as you get Henry to the bottom step, he murmurs, “Well off, all mouth, no trousers.”

Henry spins around you and faces Archer. “What did you say?”

“Well-off, all mouth, no trousers.” Archer bit out every syllable, facing Henry.

“One could say the same about you.”

“Henry!” you plead.

“Five minutes, backyard?” Archer asks.

“Five minutes,” Henry agrees.

Archer spins on his heel and goes back into the house.

You follow Henry to his car and he pulls out his gym bag. “Henry?” He goes up the steps and back into your apartment. “Henry!”

“I’m sorry, I am so sorry!” Henry shakes his head as he kicks off his shoes and pulls out his gym shoes. He pulls his sweater off, revealing a tight t-shirt. “I’ve had it with that guy.”

“You’re not going to do this,” you say, shaking your head. “It’s the beer, right?”

“I’m not drunk!” He is annoyed. “Do you want him?”

“What?!”

“Are you playing at something?”

“God, Henry, no!” you can’t believe he asked that. “I lo-loathe the idea of you being hurt.” You drop your gaze, unbelieving that you almost let the biggest cat out of the bag in your life, the lion out of its cage. Confessing your feelings could send him packing.

He tilts your chin up, his anger completely gone, a small smile its place. “I…loathe the idea of you being hurt, too.” He turns to you, and holds you by your shoulders. “Let me tell you something, love. Sometimes, words aren’t enough. Sometimes a man just has to be a bit primal to get his point across.”

“Henry—” you are cut off as he draws you to him, your body crashing into his.

“You’re mine,” he says in a low voice.

You gasp softly, not only at the words, but the ferocity behind them, the sight of his eyes looking almost gray in the moonlight from the kitchen window, the fact that he passionately drew you to him and it was a painless collision.

“You’re mine. He can’t have you. I saw you first. I will not relinquish my claim. It’s that simple.”

You blink at him, the set of his jaw. “Don’t send him to the hospital. Hard to explain.”

He chuckles as that. “I will try not to.”

You watch Henry walk out, and you follow quietly. He grew up in a house with four brothers, three being older. He suffered bullying in prep school. He has had to learn fighting sequences and disciplines for movies and studies jiu-jitsu.

And Archer was an amateur boxer?

This is going to get good and bad at the same time.

You walk after Henry down the steps and find that half the house is home…on a Friday night, no less! You’d hoped most had gone to the pub in town, but it’s possible that texts were sent and calls were made, even in five minutes. It is turning dusk, two of the SUVs are parked in such a way to illuminate the back area of the house, which had no light.

“I’ll be damned, you came!” Archer tries to goad Henry, but that wasn’t going to work.

Henry says nothing, and steps into the lit area. His stare is penetrating, not leaving Archer for a second.

“What’s going on?” one of the crew asks.

“An experiment,” you say. “Jiu Jitsu versus Boxing.”

“Do we have time for bets?”

“I said this is an experiment not a pay per view!” You answer.

Stella grabs your hand, her eyes full of concern and whispers. “This is more than just an experiment, isn’t it?”

You only stare ahead.

Archer and Henry start circling each other. The crew is split on who to cheer for-Henry or Archer.

“Knock him out, Archer!”

“Let’s go, Henry!”

Archer moves in and lunges. Henry push kicks him back.

“Oooh.” The crowd says.

Archer tries to kick, but Henry deflects his leg with a downward block, pushing Archer back and down.

“Aw, let’s go, let’s go!” someone claps.

Archer charges again, and Henry catches the arm with both hands, pulling Archer to the ground. Archer slides on the grass, keeping his head up so he isn’t face down. He rolls to his back and jumps up into a standing position.

“Oh!”

“Awww!”

“You dodging me, Cavill?” Archer taunts.

“Right here,” Henry growls softly.

Archer strides to him and Henry doesn’t move, but puts up his fists. Archer starts trying to deliver punches, but Henry blocks them. When Archer tries to do a cross, Henry slips under and delivers an upper cut, causing him to stumble back. Henry tries to attack with a cross, but Archer punches his kidneys and Henry flinches. Archer upper cuts and clips his chin.

“Oh, got ‘em there!”

You gasp, covering your mouth. You don’t want to make a sound unless it’s positive. Stella squeezes your hand.

Henry straightens and regains his stance. Archer comes at him again and tries to get him to open up his defenses with a couple of jabs but Henry grabs his wrist and takes a step back, lifting Archer at the waist and throwing him to the ground. “Stay down.”

“Fuck you!” Archer says, going into a football stance. He charges for Henry and misses like a bull in an arena.

Henry stands at the ready as Archer charges again, but this time turns aside and grabs the back of Archer’s neck and bounces his head off the top of an SUV, dazing him. When Archer stumbles back, Henry takes him to the ground and tangles his arms around Archer’s arm, pulling it, and wraps his legs around his one, stretching Archer’s smaller body. Archer yells in pain not wanting to give in. You “Come on!” Henry roars.

Archer taps and Henry rolls to his feet. Hannah rushes to Archer’s side to help him up and he waves her away, wanting to get up on his own steam. Everyone starts clapping and talking, the excitement over.

You are mortified to see money exchange between crew members. How did this become a pay per view-a fucking betting game-so quickly?

People try to congratulate Henry, but his look says he wants none though he nods in thanks. He is watching and waiting for Archer.

Archer walks over and shakes Henry’s hand, and the crew claps and cheers. He pulls Henry close and whispers something in his ear.

“I know,” Henry nods. He takes your hand and leads you back inside.

You stand there looking up at him. His eyes are intense and are watching your every move. You’re breathing hard and you don’t know why. You touch his face, and turn it. You see a bruise starting at his chin and he has a little blood coming from his mouth. You gently remove his shirt and see bruises forming on his torso from the body punches and being pushed into the SUV.

“It’s not bad. Tournaments have been worse.” He kicks off his shoes.

You rush to the kitchen and get ice, putting it in a plastic bag and then wrapping it in a towel, then apply it to his face. You have no idea what to say. You feel bad about it. Now you just hope it’s over.

“I’ve never fought for a woman before,” he says softly. He seems in deep thought.

“I’m sorry-“ Your breath hitches as he grabs your wrist while icing his jaw.

“You’ve done nothing wrong,” he whispers, kissing it and taking the ice out of your hand. He brushes his lips along your inner wrist, starting a trail of goosebumps that travel up your arm.

You recognize the look in his eyes and your entire body is awash with heated awareness. He pulls you close, his hands aligning your hips with his as he brushes his lips against your neck and ear over and over again. He starts guiding you toward the couch step by step. You hear him inhale. “Henry?”

“You smell nice,” his voice vibrates against you as his hands travel under your top. He pulls it over your head and off, then drops it on the floor. His hands smooth over your bare arms and then come up your back which enables him to unfasten your bra, and then slide over your shoulders. “Soft.”

Your heart skips and your mind goes blank. You’re suddenly nervous. You sit on the couch, having nowhere else to go, and he kneels before you, pushing your legs apart. His hands move over your shoulders to take off the bra. He returns to your breasts, cupping as if weighing them. He kisses your neck and you squirm at the heat of his lips against your jugular, gasp when his tongue traces your pulse down to your collarbone. He leans forward, pushing you back and puts his hands at the small of your back, pulling your leggings and underwear down and off. You raise your hips and his attention falls between your legs, looking at how the position puts you in one of offering. You are nude before him as his hands slide up the outside of your legs to your hips again, dragging you to the edge of the couch and resting your thighs on his shoulders as he sucks on your outer lips.

You cry out and arch, then feel your body go lax only to do it again as his tongue surges and lashes within your folds. You begin to writhe as he sharpens a need that goes so much deeper than he can go at this position. Your hands rest on the back of his head as your hips rise off the edge of the couch, offering and demanding more, and he moans in response, still lapping at what he has drawn from you.

He rises coming forward on the couch and hooks your knees over his shoulder, leaving you vulnerable and open, then thrusts into you to the hilt in one movement. A kitten cry comes from you, being filled and stretched so quickly, but you exhale with relief, the fullness making you pulse around him, making him throb inside you. He stills for few moments and starts to slowly move in and out of you; for a moment you could swear your hearts are beating together.

His rhythm quickens and you gasp his name. You can’t move, the position and hold he has you in does not permit it. He is taking you-maybe even claiming you after what has happened-so this time, you just take it…gladly.

You arch, your hips coming off the couch as you cry his name, climaxing around him. He holds your legs tight, and licks his lips, slowing for a moment, but keeps going. With no reprieve, you are panting now, your head rocking side to side. Your body is coming apart and coming together around him at once.

“Henry!”

His eyes close and he bites his bottom lip as you feel him swell within you. You think he is about to climax, but then his eyes open as he slows. He is determined to keep going. His eyes looking as dark as a stormy sea, he increases the intensity, still holding onto your legs with one arm, but now his other hand is at your hip, guiding you onto him as you squirm, your nerves becoming a bit raw, your senses tuned into him-his eyes, the breadth of his shoulders, the flexing of his arms as he holds you in a position of submission, the softness of hair that surrounds a hardness that is claiming you over and over, a combination of a naturally male essence that is his own. You are his own.

A scream tears from your throat, and you start to tremble. You feel liquid heat inside you, and you know it isn’t you. He pounds slow and hard, panting and growling over you, and you are able to loosen one leg and put it on his other shoulder. He smirks, letting your legs down around his waist to kiss you, and then lifts you off the couch, still kissing you, still pulsating inside you, and now his arms keep you wrapped around him as you move to the bed.

He crashes onto the bed with you beneath him and you are in heaven. Feeling him so deep inside you, being completely surrounded by his scent, rubbing your cheek against his, tears spring to your eyes. “I’m not moving.” He breathes.

Thanking the technology of the depo-provera, you giggle, your limbs wrapping around him. “Nobody is telling you to.”

He rotates his hips, and you gasp at the how good it feels. “Neither are you.”

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bluffbomb · 5 years ago

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Fic - Warm Water

Bruno Bucciarati/Leone Abbacchio

R18

I hope you like it ♥

Construction noises stirred Bruno from his sleep. The clanking of metal on metal and loud beeps from reversing machines made him frown at the window of their hotel room. He could tell it was cloudy by how the light coming from the window looked gray and dreary. He thought because it had snowed so heavily the night before, the builders wouldn’t be working, especially not this early in the morning. Bruno rolled his bleary eyes over to the alarm clock, blinking a few times to see clearly.

7:00 a.m.

Come hell or high water he supposed. Too bad he was a light sleeper and would never be able to get back to sleep with all this noise. A drill ground hard into the earth and he sighed, the sweet wisps of sleep fully leaving him. He hadn’t got much sleep last night to begin with, so this was more than disappointing. He tiredly rubbed his eyes, causing the blankets to slip and reveal his bare chest. He shivered, goosebumps raising on his skin from the chill in the room. The space heater in the corner was working hard but was no match for the biting cold.

He deserved it in a way. It was his choice to go to Milan in the winter, his choice to book their stay at a historic hotel. He could have done this trip on their anniversary, when the weather was nice, and they could enjoy the view from their room. Though, this trip was mostly to introduce his mother and half-siblings to the love of his life, and because that love was a man, he didn’t want a possibly crushing reaction during such a happy time for them.

However, with hindsight, he could see he was just being overly cautious. His mother had met Leone the first night they arrived and was absolutely smitten with him after dinner. She’d even bought him several pieces of jewelry that Bruno didn’t have the heart to tell her he wouldn’t wear. She was just happy to see Bruno had someone that loved him, and that made all fear and trepidation melt away and yes, he absolutely cried.

A shame his father couldn’t meet him, but Bruno knew he’d like him, too. His father would probably take them out on his boat and pop a bottle of prosecco to celebrate. Probably would have given Leone one of those crushing bear hugs that Bruno missed so much. A body shivering next to him stole his attention from his thoughts. “S’cold,” Leone murmured, tiredly grasping at the sheets. When they slipped off of Bruno, they must have slipped off Leone as well. When he finally found the hem, he made a fist of the sheets and brought them up to his nose.

Leone could sleep through anything. Fire alarms, bulldozers, the rapture. Anything. Bruno genuinely envied him for it, how he could just fall asleep when his head hit the pillow, how even an ice cube down his shirt only resulted in half-hearted reaching. He knew that because he tried it. “Leone,” Bruno said softly. If he had to lay awake, he at least wanted some company.

No response. “Leone,” he sang, rolling over to face Leone’s back. He slept almost completely face down, one leg bent and hugging a pillow right under his chin. Bruno thought that was so cute. “Leone,” he whispered, sliding an arm over his back. This time, Bruno got a deep exhale. One a horse would make but without sputtering lips “ ‘m tired,” Leone slurred, not moving a muscle.

“I can’t sleep,” Bruno whispered, snuggling closer to the warm body next to him. “Mm,” Leone replied, probably not even awake. “Talk to me,” Bruno whispered. Nothing. Bruno pouted, rolling onto his stomach and leaning up on his elbows. He gazed down at his boyfriend, his face almost fully obscured by a veil of silky silver hair. Without his makeup, Leone looked so youthful, truly looked his age. Bruno could see the faint dusting of freckles on the bridge of his straight, sharp nose, plush dusty pink lips that were parted just the slightest bit.

Long black lashes rested atop marble carved cheekbones. He was magnificent, angelic even. Even in sleep, he must have felt Bruno staring and slowly cracked one sparkling eye open halfway to look at him. “What?” he mumbled. “You’re pretty,” Bruno replied, caressing a few strands of hair away from his face. Leone didn’t reply, but Bruno knew he’d roll his eyes if he had the energy. He didn’t have much capacity for compliments and was probably maxed out from all the praise his mother had showered onto him.

Bruno leaned over and planted a soft kiss on his shoulder, letting his lips linger for a moment. He loved this man so much, sometimes his heart couldn’t take it when he thought about it. Leone huffed but didn’t move away. “It’s cold and I’m tired,” he said, voice less heavy with sleep. Bruno smiled against his shoulder, his plan was working. He grazed his teeth over the spot he’d kissed, making Leone exhale again. This time he swatted half-heartedly at the spot he thought Bruno was in and groaned. “It’s cold, baby, let me sleep,” he said, closing his eyes.

Baby. Bruno loved little pet names like that, but Leone usually only used them in times like this, when he was too tired to feel embarrassed by them. Bruno caught his hand mid swat and brought the knuckles to his lips. “Don’t be mean,” he said against the smooth knuckles. Leone’s hands were surprisingly soft, much like the rest of him. He put on a tough front, he had to in his line of work. And it worked, people were terrified of him, most people didn’t even look him in the eyes when speaking to him.

But Bruno knew him, he knew that under that front, Leone was just a big, ooey-gooey softy. Leone let out a defeated sigh, knowing he wasn’t beating Bruno’s persistence. He rolled onto his back, bringing up one hand to rub his eyes. “Good morning,” he said, a tiny bit of bite to the words. “Good morning, Leone,” Bruno said. Leone could hear the smile in his voice.

“What time is it?” he asked once he fully opened his eyes. Bruno glanced over his shoulder to the clock before looking back at Leone. “7:15,” he said simply. “Jesus,” Leone sighed, letting his hand cover his eyes. “Don’t fall back asleep!" Bruno commanded playfully, tugging on Leone’s hand to bring him closer. “It’s the crack of fucking dawn,” Leone whined. “And it’s cold,” he added, still letting himself be pulled by Bruno. “Well then come here and cuddle me and we’ll warm up,” Bruno whispered teasingly. Leone didn’t fight being pulled to the middle of the bed, if anything he helped by scooting himself over.

“Baby, it’s so early,” he croaked, scooting into a half-sitting position, his shoulders touching the headboard. He hissed at the cold contact but didn’t flinch from it. “I know, the construction woke me up and I couldn’t fall back asleep,” Bruno pouted, deeply and dramatically at his boyfriend. This earned him the tiniest smile and an even tinier laugh. “Princess can’t sleep with a pea under her mattress,” he mocked lovingly.

“So now what?” Leone asked through a yawn, stretching his arms and letting one fall to wrap around Bruno’s shoulders. “Smooth,” Bruno teased. Leone clicked his tongue and winked, reaching to the end table on his side for a glass of water. “I was thinking I could order room service for us, since the kitchen opens at six.” Leone tilted his head and stuck out his lower lip at the suggestion, clearly thinking about it. “Sounds like a good idea, what do they serve?” Bruno shrugged and went to search for the menu on his end table. Once acquired, he snuggled back into Leone and pulled his arm around his shoulders again.

Leone stroked two fingers up and down Bruno’s arm absentmindedly, as if it was just natural to do so. Bruno hummed while scanning the menu. “Feta and cremini omelet with a side of sausage.” Leone considered it silently. “Spicy sausage and spinach frittata, apple or cherry cornettos with a side of fruit or fried egg toast with two sausages or prosciutto on the side.” Leone contemplated the options silently, sipping his water and scanning over the menu in Bruno’s hands.

“I’ll get the toast with sausage,” he said finally, putting his glass back down. He picked up his phone and checked it silently, his fingers now making circles on Bruno’s shoulder. “I’m thinking I’d like the omelet,” Bruno said, reaching over to pick up the phone and order. The kitchen staff took the order quickly, giving them an estimate of fifteen minutes for it to be ready. “And now we just wait,” Bruno said, rolling back over to smile at his boyfriend. “What should we do today?” Bruno asked, tracing small shapes on Leone’s chest. “Nothing, I checked the weather on my phone. It’s gonna look like shit all day.”

Bruno frowned. “But this hotel is really nice, lots of historical things we can look at and read,” Leone added, trying to cheer him up. “True,” Bruno affirmed, taking a strand of Leone’s hair and twirling it between his fingers. Leone pulled him closer and kissed his forehead. “Thank you for doing this,” he whispered against his skin. “I’ve had a lot of fun, even if we’ve been snowed in for two days. I got to spend it with you.” With his words, the temperature in the room didn’t matter, Bruno was melting in Leone’s arms. “Meeting your mom was fun.” Bruno hummed a reply. “And your siblings are nice.” “Yeah, I don’t know them very well, though,” Bruno sighed.

“Seeing where you grew up was cool.” Bruno smiled but didn’t reply. Leone could tell his mind was wandering and wanted to bring him back to the moment.

“I love you,” Leone said, placing another kiss on his forehead before squeezing him against his body. “I love you, too,” Bruno replied, kissing Leone’s chin. That got him an actual smile and he was definitely melting now. Leone had such a beautiful smile. It wasn’t a catalog smile or an ear to ear smile, but it was sincere and rare. Bruno loved it so much. Loved Leone so much. “Kiss me,” Bruno said, pulling Leone in closer. “But I haven’t brushed my teeth yet,” he protested. “I don’t care,” Bruno replied. When their lips brushed against each other, Bruno sighed in something close to relief.

When it finally turned into a kiss, he sighed in actual relief. Leone’s lips were petal-soft and pillowy, addicting in how they moved with expertise against his own. He was such a good kisser. His nibbles were never too hard unless requested, he used his tongue just enough to flick over Bruno’s lips and make him dizzy, and pulled away to make Bruno chase his lips, kissing the smirk that tugged at his mouth.

Bruno rolled on top of him, slithering his arms around his shoulders to pull him deeper into the kiss. Leone put one hand on the small of his back and the other right under the curve of his bottom. He slid that hand up and down Bruno’s thigh, squeezing it gently every now and then. When he smoothed his hand to the cheek of his ass and squeezed, it reminded him of a very important fact. They were naked.

Still bare from their attempt at tired, half-drunk sex the night before. They hadn’t got passed kissing before deciding to just take a shower and go to bed, not even bothering to get dressed for bed. At 22 and 23, they were getting old and domestic. When Leone gave it a little smack, Bruno yelped in surprise before giggling into the kiss. Leone smoothed over where he smacked with a kind of care that made Bruno weak. He was so sweet, too sweet sometimes. “A little early for spanking,” Bruno whispered against Leone’s lips. “Can’t help it, it’s so nice it was asking for it,” he replied, nipping at Bruno’s bottom lip and pulling a little bit. Bruno shivered, kissing Leone again with more force. He moaned into their kiss when Leone used his strong arms to squeeze Bruno against his body.

“I’ve missed you,” Leone whispered, pulling away to trail kisses on Bruno’s neck. Bruno tilted his head back, smiling as Leone sucked on his pulse point. “I’ve been here the whole time,” Bruno sighed playfully. “You know what I mean,” Leone said, his voice carrying a hint of seriousness. He squeezed Bruno against him and let out a small grunt when his thigh pressed into his semi-erection. Bruno grinned, no wonder Leone was being so affectionate this morning.

Calling him baby and being so touchy, so receptive to his teasing and to waking him up so early. “Oh,” Bruno cooed. He leaned up and looked down at Leone who was just the slightest bit flushed. Bruno was always amazed at how pale he could get this time of year. “First thing you want in the morning is me?” he asked, feigning surprise. Leone just bit his lip, letting his hands wander to Bruno’s hips and squeezing. “I always want you,” Leone whispered, his honesty making Bruno feel guilty for teasing him. “But I can’t always have you, at least not without embarrassing you” he added, a hint of mischief in his voice “Well, you have me, now, don’t you?” Bruno taunted.

Leone didn’t respond, but his raised brow said everything his words didn’t. “I guess I do. Right where I want you,” Leone said finally, his hands coming to Bruno’s chest and tracing the filigree of his tattoo. “But do I have you, Leone?” Bruno asked, mostly so he could look Leone in the eyes to see those sparkling lavender gems again. He could get lost in those eyes, as corny as it sounded. They were so expressive, so vulnerable in a way that made Bruno want to cherish the times where they just looked at each other.

“You always do.” He leaned up to kiss Bruno again, but Bruno leaned away, squinting and smiling at Leone. “Even now?” Leone’s lips parted. “Especially now,” he replied. “Then,” Bruno started, walking two fingers up his chest, stopping to tap the tip of his nose. “Can I do it?” Leone blinked a few times before his face flushed pink with the realization. “I-I don’t know,” he said, averting his gaze. “You know I’m not that great at it.” Bruno fought back the urge to giggle at Leone’s shyness. “You’re amazing at it, love. You just don’t relax enough,” he said, placing a kiss on the tip of Leone’s nose.

“It hurts,” Leone grumbled in his defense. “I know, my love, I know. It’s gonna hurt at first, or at the first couple of times when you get started.” Leone looked everywhere except Bruno’s eyes. “Your size doesn’t help,” Leone grumbled again. Bruno winked, even though he knew Leone probably didn’t see it. “But I’m always gentle,” Bruno said softly, dipping his head to tease his lips over Leone’s collarbone. “That’s true,” Leone breathed, tilting his head back to give Bruno more access. “And I’ve only put it in you twice the whole time we’ve been together, so it’s normal that it’s still…” Bruno searched his mind for a word that was accurate but not crude.

“…a snug fit,” he finished. Leone pressed his lips together, thinking carefully on his words. “I have thought about it,” he confessed, his voice barely a whisper. Bruno’s eyes brightened. “Yeah?” he asked excitedly. His excitement must have embarrassed Leone, as his cheeks turned a darker shade of pink. “Yeah,” he affirmed quietly. He cleared his throat. “The times that we’ve done it, when we’d find our rhythm it would feel really good.” He took a breath and looked at Bruno dead on. “It’s nice…being full of you. I get to be close to you in a…such a special way. I like it.” It was Bruno’s turn to blush, and he did. Hard. “Just wish it didn’t hurt so damn much,” Leone added, laughing lightly.

That was partly Bruno’s fault. He had less experience than Leone and had rushed through stretching him those times. He’d gotten so worked up, he overestimated how prepared Leone was. It was selfish, and he felt immense guilt when Leone would wince and grit his teeth as he accepted him inside. Thankfully though, Bruno had been doing research and had found something he could do that both let him get worked up while working Leone as well. He just had to tell Leone what it was. Or show him.

“Well,” Bruno began. He had clearly piqued Leone’s interest, as he leaned up onto his elbows when Bruno sat back on his heels. “I’ve thought of a way to get you…more accommodated.” He grinned at the way Leone’s breathing got shallow. “I’ve thought about doing it many times, I just worry about how you’ll react.” This caused Leone to furrow his brows. “You’re not talking about putting your fist in my ass, right?” Bruno couldn’t help but sputter out a laugh. “No, honey, no!” he giggled, placing his hands on Leone’s chest. “What I’m thinking of is a lot gentler than that. It’s just…different from anything we’ve done.”

“Oh,” Leone said with relief before taking in a deep breath. “What is it?” he asked shyly. Bruno turned his head coyly. “It’s a surprise. I want to see your natural reaction to it. Sometimes you try to please me too much, even when you’re uncomfortable.” Leone mumbled something inaudible and glanced over Bruno’s shoulder.

“As long as you’re not putting a fist in my ass or anything with feet, I’m willing to try it.” Bruno let out another laugh. “It’s definitely neither of those,” he assured with a kiss. “I think you’ll like it. It’s different but not in a weird way. And if you don’t like it, you can always tell me.” Leone pursed his lips to the side, and Bruno could see the gears in his mind moving as he was considering it. He chewed on his bottom lip before letting out a breath. “Okay. I’ll try it. I trust you,” he said. Bruno’s heart swelled so big, he didn’t think his chest could contain it.

The confidence and vulnerability Leone extended to him was truly something special, something to be cherished. Just like Leone. “I’ll make it worth it,” Bruno whispered, coming in for another kiss. This time their kiss was different. It was hungry and wild. Leone pushed his tongue into Bruno’s mouth and licked urgently into it. His hand went to Bruno’s throat and he rested his fingertips there, keeping himself grounded and present in the moment. It was easy to float out of his body when Bruno kissed him like this. Bruno moaned when Leone smacked his ass hard and squeezed after he did so. Their tongues danced together, moving and sliding with practiced and delicious rhythm.

Bruno kissed like he was going to die of thirst, sucking on Leone’s tongue with urgency and desire. Leone was no better, kissing desperately at Bruno’s cheeks and chin when he pulled away to breathe. Bruno slid his hands into Leone’s silky mane and pulled him closer, deepening their already passionate kiss. He was getting dizzy, needing more air than their kiss allowed, but he wouldn’t pull away, he needed Leone’s mouth on his just a little longer. His lungs stung with neglect, but it didn’t seem to matter. They broke apart with a shared gasp and without skipping a beat, Bruno’s mouth found Leone’s neck and he sucked hard at the joining of his throat and jaw, knowing that was one of Leone’s many secret soft spots. Leone made the most beautiful sigh when he grazed his teeth over it. “You know too much about me,” Leone breathed, smirking as he gazed down at Bruno. He smiled against his skin and laughed softly, lapping at the pink mark he left. Leone closed his eyes, relaxing into the feeling of Bruno’s mouth as it left wet, opened mouth kisses down his neck and over his collarbones and chest.

Bruno used his teeth to gently scrape the skin he kissed, staring up at Leone in wonder at his beauty. In these moments, he was convinced this man was divine. The muscles in his neck and chest flexed and fluttered under the taut, opalescent skin as he arched from Bruno’s kisses. His platinum hair seemed to gleam like precious metal against the flat white of their bedsheets, splaying behind him in a corona. When those plush, perfectly shaped lips parted, Bruno was convinced he’d hear hymns and chants to a higher power. The dim sunlight that filtered in through the clouds and curtains glinted off Leon’s fine, silver body hair when he sighed and shuddered. He was glowing, blessed and highly favored as Bruno’s mouth kissed lower and lower.

If it wasn’t for the low, raspy curses coming from Leone, and the whistle of hard wind against their window, Bruno would have believed he was making love to an angel. He was so lucky to have Leone. His hips flexed as Bruno’s mouth stilled just below his navel. “You’re staring at me, babe,” he said, his chest rising and falling with deep breaths. Bruno, still dazed by the seraph looking down at him, didn’t replay. Instead, he licked a long, slow stripe up the defined v of his hips. They flexed again and Leone cursed low and raspy once more, resenting how close but still how far Bruno’s mouth was from his straining manhood. Tanzanite colored eyes narrowed in suspicion at him, but in this moment, Bruno could only use his mouth for worship rather than words. He licked up, then rounded back down to the other side, sucking and nipping as he reached near the base of Leone’s swollen column.

Their eyes stayed locked onto each other, one contemplating while the other stared in devotion. “I love you,” Bruno whispered, the words feeling so good coming out of his mouth. Leone pressed his lips together to hold something back, probably another curse. “And I’m going to make you feel so good,” he said, letting his eyes flutter closed as he kissed a velvety smooth thigh. He felt Leone shudder against his lips, and it made his veins thrum under his skin. Leone had more stamina than he did, always lasted longer than he did.

But this morning, Bruno was going to use everything he had to send his personal deity straight into the arms of ecstasy. He spoiled himself when kissing up and down Leone’s strong, smooth thighs, leaving pink splotches and faint teeth marks as he silently praised the skin. He relished in the feeling of those thick muscles flexing and the sounds of Leone’s groans and breathless compliments. Bruno could tell by the way his hips were jolting, Leone was trying to control himself, trying to behave as he was getting pampered. “You’re so beautiful,” Bruno said, opening his eyes and kissing the crook of Leone’s knee. Leone broke their shared gaze, his blush deepening.

Leone had a hard time receiving praise, always too humble or too sad to listen or take it to heart. “I mean it,” Bruno said gently, moving his head so their eyes met. “I know you do,” he said, a small smile breaching his otherwise stoic expression. Bruno kissed his thigh again, nipping it hard enough to get Leone to look at him. “Let me make you feel good, Leone. Let me show you how much I love you.” His blush got even darker. He pressed his lips in a tight thin line, then let his shoulders drop in agreement. He plopped flat against the mattress and exhaled. “You’re too much for me sometimes, Bruno,” he said, hoping his lover could hear the smile in his voice.

“I only give what I think is deserved. And you deserve to be spoiled.” Leone’s thigh twitched when he nipped it again. “I’m going to spoil you so much, you have no clue,” Bruno said, mostly to himself. That earned him a breathless little laugh from Leone, and it made his heart jump. He was so cute, and he didn’t even try. “Gonna treat me like a good little pillow prince?” Leone teased. “Mhm, I’ll make you feel so good, you won’t be able to think about anything else,” he replied, planting an open-mouthed kiss on Leone’s hip. “I’ll even buy you a crown,” he teased back.

“Well I definitely want the crown,” Leone sighed, doing his best not to buck as Bruno’s mouth got agonizingly close to his still painfully straining and unattended member.

“That mouth is dangerous,” he rasped, leaning up onto his elbows to get a better view. Bruno smirked against his skin, nibbling the inside of his knee. “Just you wait, I’m only warming you up,” he replied, cupping the undersides of Leone’s knees and folding him over, nearly in half. The confident, almost taunting look on Leone’s face turned to one of surprise and confusion. “Hold your legs like this for me, baby,” Bruno purred, smoothing the backs of Leone’s thighs with his fingertips. He hesitated for a moment, his brows furrowing quickly, then setting back into a pensive expression. He snaked his fingers over Bruno’s and swallowed audibly.

“It will feel good, I promise,” Bruno said, mouth on the back of his thigh just below the swell of his buttocks. “Okay,” Leone breathed, both trust and trepidation in his voice. He hugged his legs tighter, mostly in a form of self-protection. “Close your eyes and just feel it,” Bruno commanded in the softest way he could. Leone squinted, then obeyed, slipping his eyes shut with a sigh. Now it was Bruno’s turn to be nervous. He’d never done this before, only seen it in porn and read about it in books. How would he know if he was doing it right? Was there even a right way to do it? Was there a wrong way to do it?

Does he just…go for it? Does he stick his tongue in? What does it taste like? What happens if it turns out to be too extreme for them both? Bruno sighed, letting his mouth linger on Leone’s thigh, flicking his tongue to give it something to do. He’d just have to trust his instincts, use his experience and the conversations he’d had with others to his advantage.

Leone cleared his throat impatiently and Bruno knew he had to move. Slowly, Bruno gave the cheeks of Leone’s ass the same treatment as his thighs. Sucking, nipping, kissing and licking the creamy skin until Leone was twitching and jolting again. He was becoming painfully aroused, Bruno could tell by how his sounds were going from raspy sighs to quivering moans. He couldn’t torture his angel like this any longer.

He placed a small kiss on the swell of Leone’s scrotum, smoothing his tongue over it to give himself confidence for what he was about to do. Leone’s hips jumped and he huffed out a little moan from the brief contact, his fingers pressing hard into the back of his knees. His trust in Bruno had him keeping his eyes closed, making him unaware of the way Bruno chewed on his lips nervously. “Ready, Leone?” he asked, mostly for himself.

“Mhm,” was all he received, but he could hear the shakiness in Leone’s voice. With a final deep breath, Bruno gently spread Leone open and let his tongue slide down from his sack and over his entrance with the most confident lick he could muster. A sharp gasp cut through Bruno’s anxious thoughts. “Fuck!” Leone whined, bucking hard against Bruno’s mouth. He whined. Bruno had never heard him sound like that before and licked again to see if it had been real. Leone whined wordlessly this time, taking his swollen lower lip between his teeth. Bruno was both in awe and relieved. Leone tasted like nothing if anything it tasted like his soap.

He also seemed to be enjoying himself more than he ever had. “Keep going,” he panted, his eyelids slowly lifting to reveal needy, dilated pupils. Bruno hadn’t realized he’d stopped. Hadn’t realized he was staring at Leone again. “Please,” Leone whimpered, tilting his head in the most heartachingly submissive way. Bruno nodded quickly, snapping out of his trance. He stuck his tongue out again and licked long, up and down strokes and Leone was whining again. Bruno pressed his tongue flat, smoothing it slowly and deliberately over Leone, reciprocating the moans he was freely letting out of his beautiful lips.

God, those sounds were so beautiful from him, so guttural and so primal. So different from the short grunts and reserved groans he’d become accustomed to. Those were beautiful in their own way, but the sounds Leone was making now were absolutely dizzying. Ringing between his ears like the songs of cherubs. Bruno was hooked, addicted to the way his lover fought to catch his breath as he lapped at him. He was so happy he chose to do this, so happy to make Leone feel good like this.

He moaned against him, feeling bold enough, drunk enough on Leone’s sounds to try something else, something more. Without warning, he stilled his licks at Leone’s entrance, pointed his tongue and dipped it inside.

Leone seized, his body locking up as a sharp gasp cut off any sound that would have come out of his throat. It was so quick, less than a second, but Bruno had brought Leone to the brink with a push of his tongue. “Good god!” Leone choked out, thrashing as Bruno lapped inside of him, his thighs shaking in his grip. “What the fuck?” he huffed, more in disbelief than anything else. His cock was leaking now, so swollen that the tip seemed to glow a dark fuchsia against his pale skin. He bucked and whined sharply, and Bruno was convinced he was with an angel.

He felt encouraged to go further, living for Leone’s sounds. He wanted to up the ante, increase Leone’s pleasure and tried something else. He fluttered his eyes closed and sealed his lips around Leone, sucking gently. This earned him a gorgeous throaty moan, and he thanked his heart for not stopping. “Holy shit, baby!” Leone growled through gritted teeth, bucking hard and squeezing his own legs so firmly the skin around his fingers turned white. He’d leave bruises on himself, squeezing like that, but Bruno could see Leone wouldn’t care. He’d probably be proud of them. His eyes were squeezed shut and his brows furrowed desperately. Bruno couldn’t smile or talk, but he was beaming inside and would be praising Leone if he could.

Slowly, he crept his hand over, lifting his mouth off Leone just enough to slip a finger inside of him. He locked up again, his back curving beautifully off the mattress. “Does this feel good, Leone?” Bruno asked softly, eyes just as desperate as the man panting underneath him. “Y-Yeah,” was all Leone could stammer out, sucking in a breath when Bruno added another finger. “I want your mouth on me again,” he panted quickly, saying it like he couldn’t get the words out fast enough. “Please, Bruno, I-,” Leone tossed his head back, a moan cutting off his words as Bruno’s mouth made a seal around him again. “Thank you,” he breathed, letting his chest sink with another moan.

If Bruno could talk, he would have told Leone not to thank him, but he chose to keep working him open instead. He alternated between sucking, licking and thrusting his tongue inside Leone, adding another finger and earning both cries and growls from the folded man beneath him. The way Leone’s eyes would roll back made Bruno’s whole body vibrate with love and devotion and painful arousal. Leone was having such a good time, Bruno was making him feel so good that he couldn’t even put words together. His curses disappeared under gasps and Bruno’s name turned into a drawn-out hymn.

When he added a third finger, he pushed deep enough to press Leone’s prostate and he all but screamed, his already raspy voice growing hoarse from his cries. “Bruno, I-I…fuck I’m.” Leone’s hands left his legs and balled into fists, his chest heaving as he fought to breathe and moan. Bruno continues his ministrations, thrusting his fingers and tongue in and out of Leone with unwavering vigor. Leone growled and threw his head back, trying to make words but only managing broken syllables, slurring the sounds together.

Then Bruno noticed a change. Leone’s sounds were becoming short, high pitched, cut off and louder than before. He’d never heard Leone make noises like these. His bucking turned into hard rocking against Bruno’s mouth and his eyes watered when he opened them. It was too late when Bruno thought about stopping.

“Oh god, o-oh shit!” Leone stuttered. His body locked up again, then trembled and twitched. His loud, rumbling moan shook Bruno’s skull as it escaped gritted teeth. His body shook violently as he panted and whimpered. His legs dropped limply, and his watery eyes blinked several times, still in awe. “Bruno, honey… what the fuck?” he deflated, his pulsing member dripping with his release. Honey. There was another little term of endearment that let Bruno know he’d done a great job.

Bruno’s eyes widened. “You came?” he asked, probably with too much excitement. Leone let out a huff of disbelief, half-lidded eyes looking seriously into sapphires that gleamed with happiness. Leone only had enough energy to smirk. “Yeah. Real hard,” he panted.

They shared small laughs before Leone flopped down, splaying out like a starfish on their bed. Bruno crawled over quickly and sat between Leone’s spread legs. “I told you that you’d like it,” he gloated. Leone just waved him his defeat, body too spent and mind still reeling to put up any kind of fight. “I thought I was gonna pass out,” he admitted, a small blush creeping over his already flushed cheeks. “Oh yeah?” Bruno taunted. “Yeah,” Leone affirmed, finally opening his eyes to look at Bruno.

It took everything in Bruno’s power not to gasp.

“I still have so much more I want to do with you, you know,” Bruno said. Leone’s cheeks flushed deep and rosy at his words, recalling the pact they’d made earlier. “Right,” he mumbled. Bruno smirked, rising from the bed and stretching his long, elegant limbs. “I’m going to brush my teeth first, though. I can’t imagine being inside you and not being able to kiss you.” Bruno made an effort to purr out his words, making sure they sounded as sensual and tempting as possible. “R-Right,” Leone repeated, stumbling over the word this time.

He was so cute when he was flustered. “Do you still want it, love?” Bruno asked, looking at him a little more seriously, which was so hard to do because Leone looked heaven-sent. His cheeks dewy and pink, lips swollen and almost red from kissing and biting into them. “Yes,” Leone said, voice confident and unwavering. “But.” Bruno raised his brows.

“You promise to be gentle?” Leone asked in a near whisper. They both stilled, feeling their shared nervousness in the air. “Of course,” Bruno affirmed. He scooted closer, draping his arms around Leone’s shoulders and gazing down at him, letting all his sincerity and devotion speak through his stare. Leone Abbacchio, the hardened ex-cop turned gangster, was the biggest softy Bruno had ever met, and he adored him for it.

“I’m going to make such good love to you, baby. I’ll have you moaning and shaking from how good it’ll feel.” Bruno kissed Leone’s forehead, combing a hand through his thick hair. “You won’t be able to say anything besides yes and please, more. I’ll make sure of it.” Leone's lips quivered in an attempt to grin. “Yeah?” he asked shakily. “You’ll make me beg?” Leone tilted his head playfully, wanting to join in on the fun, even with his shaky, nervous voice.

Bruno clicked his tongue and shook his head. “No. No begging. You deserve to be spoiled. You deserve to feel good.” Leone looked away, his blush growing hotter on his face. Bruno brought a hand to cup his cheek and he took it and brought it to his lips, kissing his palm and sighing. “Let me make you feel good, Leone.” Leone’s blush got even darker. He pressed his lips harder into Bruno’s palm, doing his best to maintain eye contact. “You’re gonna kill me, saying things like that.”

Bruno shook his head. “No, I’m gonna make you feel so good, Leone. So good.” Leone pressed his lips together and Bruno could see his thoughts working behind his eyes, then a smirk replaced his pensive expression. He placed Bruno’s hand back on his cheek. “Yeah, but I might die from the shock.” Bruno grinned. “You mean the ecstasy?” he corrected, playing into Leone’s game. “Whichever comes first.” Bruno snickered. “You can’t die yet though, you don’t have your crown.”

Leone gasped in false surprise. “You’re right! I’ll have to wait till I get my perfect prince tiara.” Bruno’s smile turned gentle and Leone smiled in kind. “You are perfect, that’s for sure,” he said, curling a silver lock around his finger. “Stop it,” Leone laughed, unable to keep his smile from growing wider. “Never,” Bruno said, squinting at Leone.

They both laughed, Bruno tried to hold Leone without getting any of his cold release on his stomach. “Okay,” Leone started, unwrapping his arms from Bruno’s body. “Go brush your teeth so we can make out. And bring me a towel, please.” Bruno kissed Leone’s forehead one final time before hopping off the bed. “Yes, your majesty,” he teased. Leone laced his fingers together behind his head, making a show of eyeing Bruno up and down, watching him with hungry eyes as he walked to the bathroom. He bit his lip as his mouth curved into a smile.

“Where did you learn to that?” Leone called from the bed. Bruno leaned back to peer through the doorway, trying to catch a glimpse of Leone from the weird angle of the bathroom. “It’s a secret,” he called back, spitting out the toothpaste and rinsing his mouth. He grabbed a towel on his way out and threw it softly at Leone. He caught it and wordlessly began wiping off what hadn’t dried. “Thank for doing this, honey,” Bruno said, taking the towel back from Leone between two fingers and dropping it in the laundry basket.

Leone gave him a weird look as Bruno settled next to him. “For doing what?” Leone asked, turning his body to get a better look at his boyfriend. “For all of this. Letting me do all of this to you, trusting me to be gentle. All of it.” Leone smiled, warm and sweet and Bruno could swear time stopped. “You don’t need to thank me for any of that,” he said softly, pulling Bruno closer. “I love you. I’d let you do anything to me.” Jesus, Leone was really trying to stop his heart, wasn’t he? “Good thing I just want to make you come your brains out tonight.” Leone’s eyes widened in surprise, his smile stretching wider. “I need to let you take the reigns more often,” he mused.

“Right now, you need to let me kiss you,” Bruno replied, cupping Leone’s face and bringing him closer. Leone grunted his agreement and closed the gap between their lips. Their kiss was sweet this time, both taking the time to appreciate each other’s lips and tongue. Bruno stroked Leone’s cheek with his thumb and earned such a delicate sigh it made him whimper in response.

Leone’s hands roamed freely over his body, squeezing and caressing every inch he could get a handful of, pulling Bruno’s thigh over this body for more contact. Bruno’s knee brushed over Leone’s stiffening member and grinned against Leone’s mouth. He reached a hand down and gently pumped the half-hard column, stroking it to full mast. Leone moaned and went close to limp, his lips going slack as he slowly opened his eyes. “You’re so good to me,” he said softly, a dreamy look in his eyes. “I only give what I get,” Bruno replied, kissing Leone’s parted mouth. “I want you to be on top,” he said after a pause. Leone tilted his head and looked at Bruno with confusion. “I thought you wanted to…” his eyes widened, and he grinned wickedly when he put the pieces together.

“You’re so hot, babe,” Leone mused, getting onto his knees and crawling over Bruno to reach for the bottle of lubricant they’d left out from the night before. It was still by the lap where they’d left it, cap popped up. He remembered both of them groaning when he clicked open, realizing how exhausted they were. That couldn’t be farther from the truth now. “Capo wants me on top,” Leone teased, purposely arching his back and sticking out his perfectly sculpted cheeks.

Bruno cracked a hand down hard on one of them and laughed at cute little yelp that left Leone’s lips. “Better hurry up, your Capo wants you right now.” Leone shuffled back over with a devilish grin, throwing his leg over to straddle Bruno, handing him the tiny bottle. “Do you like when I call you that?” Leone asked, his voice sweet with genuine curiosity. He hovered over Bruno’s lap, watching him coat his fingers with anticipation.

It was mostly a courtesy at this point, Bruno had worked him pretty open earlier, but he still appreciated the consideration. “Yeah, a little too much sometimes.” Bruno flicked his eyes up from his fingers to Leone. “Sometimes it can be a distraction.” “Is that why you say, just call me Bucciarati right now?” Leone taunted, already knowing the answer. Bruno tapped Leone’s hip with his clean hand, gesturing Leone to come closer. Leone obeyed, shuffling closer on his knees. “Tell me if it hurts,” Bruno said, softly but with enough seriousness to make Leone answer formally. “Yes, capo.” It was almost like a switch they had in their brains, being able to instantly pick up each other’s moods. Capo only being used to reciprocate the serious tone.

Leone knew Bruno wanted to make him feel good and was serious when it came to lovemaking. He was playful up until the final act. Bruno slid in two fingers easily, fighting the urge to smirk as Leone sighed beautifully above him. “Does that feel good, Leone?” Leone groaned, his voice sounding like a compliment when Bruno said it so sensually like that. Bruno hummed happily, flicking his tongue over Leone’s nipple as he gently worked him carefully. He hadn’t expected to make Leone come earlier and needed to be more cautious if he wanted to last.

“One more,” Leone breathed, slowly rocking himself on Bruno’s fingers. “Anything for you, Leone.” Bruno obliged, slipping a third finger inside and tilting his head to scan Leone’s face for even the slightest discomfort. Leone pushed himself onto Bruno’s fingers with the same caution Bruno used while thrusting his fingers, closing his eyes and licking his lips in concentration. Slow, deliberate and sweet, they both stayed like that for a few moments. When his fingers found Leone’s spot again, he did his best to stroke it enough to watch Leone’s body tremble, but not enough to make him for limp.

“I think I can take it now, Bruno,” Leone panted, opening eyes Bruno hadn’t noticed he closed. He must have been staring at him again, daydreaming about the love he was about to make to his beautiful, blessed seraph. It was truly Bruno that was blessed to be doing this. “You sure, baby?” Bruno asked softly, stilling his fingers. Leone nodded quickly. “Yeah, I can’t wait anymore.” His eyes locked onto Bruno’s and suddenly he couldn’t breathe. “I want you to fill me up, Capo.” Bruno knew it was a taunt by the grin on Leone’s face but godddamnit, it sounded like his mouth was made just to say his title like that.

Bruno let out a shaky breath and nodded quickly, carefully pulling out his fingers and wiping them on the sheets. He scooted up to sit against the headboard and grabbed Leone’s hips to position him. “Come here,” Bruno said shakily. It was finally happening, he’d fantasized about this for so long. He’d spent many solo missions stroking himself to the thought of something like this and it was happening. Leone moved closer, placing his hands on top of the headboard and leaning up to allow Bruno some room to position them together properly. Leone groaned when he felt the thick tip of Bruno’s cock brush against his entrance, fighting the urge to just sit down on it. Bruno nudged against him again before letting out a deep breath. He pushed in just the slightest, torturous bit, then looked at Leone with commanding blue eyes. “Ride it, Leone.”

“With pleasure,” Leone purred, flipping his hair to one side so elegantly Bruno swore he would faint. Slowly, he lowered himself down onto Bruno’s throbbing, cock, hissing with pleasure as he did. “Ah, this is everything I wanted it to be,” Bruno moaned, eyes fixed at where his body joined Leone’s. Leone grinned above him, silver hair falling around them like a curtain. “Me too,” he said, capturing Bruno’s mouth in a searing kiss. Leone worked himself further down, whimpering when Bruno’s cock rubbed against a particularly sensitive area.

“I love how big you are,” Leone groaned, pressing his forehead to Bruno’s as he finally reached the base, Bruno filling him completely. He lifted his head and Bruno felt dizzy. Leone was a work of art, hand-sculpted by the gods of beauty, and bestowed to the earth as a blessing. An angel of highest, most beautiful order, here to send Bruno off to heaven in the most wonderful way. Or at least, that’s how he felt looking at Leone’s euphoric face. “Leone,” was all he managed to say, moaning it so loudly it shook his skull.

It was the only name he needed to say, the only one he wanted to say. Leone began tot move again, riding Bruno with cautious undulations of his hips. “Oh – Leone – just like that,” Bruno moaned, his head dipping back against the headboard, giving him a view of Leone’s grinning, pleasured expression. Suddenly, Leone slammed himself down onto Bruno, whining and throwing his head back as he did it one more time, then again, and again.

“Leone!” Bruno cried in pleasure and surprise. “I wanted to know what it felt like,” he panted, starting a deliciously harsh pace. “You like doing that so -,” he moaned loudly, using Bruno’s cock to press against his prostate. “I-I had to see what was so good about it.” “How’s it feel?” Bruno gasped as Leone did it again. Leone dropped a hand to Bruno’s throat and nearly burned through him with the intensity of his stare.

“I might get addicted to it.” They grinned at each other. “Let’s hope,” Bruno winked. Words were lost to them when Leone leaned back onto his hands, bracing them between Bruno’s ankles. In this position, Bruno not only got a full view of Leone’s god-like figure, but also a perfect view of where they connected, and he felt dizzy again. Leone began riding Bruno with fervor and desperation, the new angle allowing him to hit his spot over and over without fail. “F-fuck, this feels so good,” Leone moaned, letting his head fall back as he fucked himself on Bruno’s cock. “God, I love it, I-I love it!” Leone cried, his face twisting in ecstasy. Bruno couldn’t reply, only moaning as a response. Leone squeezed him so good, so wonderfully, like he was made for it, like they were made to fit each other perfectly.

Leone was perfect, Bruno didn’t need any more convincing. “I love you, Leone.” Bruno was proud he was able to string that together, his brain foggy and slow with the heavy, burning euphoria wracking through every nerve and vein in his body. His gut twisted, coiled and taut with pleasure. “I love you, I l-love you,” he stammered, his mind forgetting any other words. “L-Leone, I love you!” he cried, reaching out and wrapping his hands around Leone’s slim waist. He sounded like a sap, like a cheesy romance novel, but he couldn’t help it.

“Leone, I-I-,”

“Baby don’t say it anymore! I’ll come if you keep saying it like that!” Leone gasped, his hips staggering in uncoordinated patterns. “I don’t want to come yet. I want more of this,” Leone whined, resentfully slowing down to pace himself. Bruno wanted to obey, wanted just as much to be inside Leone for longer but, damn his release was already shredding him inside and he couldn’t say anything else still, despite knowing other words, could only repeat himself.

“I-I love you, Leone,” Bruno whimpered, thrusting up into Leone. With a growl, Leone, dropped onto his elbows, hoping the shallow angle would allow him to last longer. “B-Baby. I love you,” Bruno moaned. Progress, a new word. “You’re so beautiful, you’re amazing. I love you, I love you so fucking much, Leone!” Leone’s eyes locked onto Bruno’s and he saw something in the man snap. “Fuck it!” Leone growled, leaning back up carefully before grabbing the sides of Bruno’s head, keeping him from looking anywhere else. As if he’d even want to. Leone began slamming down hard onto Bruno, the sound of their skin slapping so lewd and loud, but it didn’t matter.

“Say it,” Leone grunted, his movements erratic and fast. Bruno’s release clawed at his gut, his toes curling to hold off just a little more. Leone had to come first, he had to. “I love you, Leone!” “I love you, too, Bruno,” he breathed, attempting to kiss him but so drunk on ecstasy he licked his cheek instead. Neither of them cared. And the lick seemed to only make it harder for Bruno to hold off. Desperate times call for desperate measures. He reached for Leone’s hips, holding them in place and thrusting into him deep and fast, giving him everything he had left. “Come for me, Leone. Come for your Capo,” Bruno commanded through gritted teeth It was too late, he was already coming. “Goddamnit,” he moaned, feeling himself flood Leone with his seed. Leone grunted helplessly, knowing he was no match for the determination in Bruno’s eyes. “Say it,” he managed to whimper, the final thread holding him from his climax fraying, waiting to snap at Bruno’s words. “Leone, I love you! I fucking love you! I lov-.” A rumbling groan tore through Leone’s throat, his body jerking as he came hard, spurting all over Bruno’s chest. He pumped himself through it, stroking out every last wave of ecstasy before falling forward and crumpling on top of Bruno.

They panted, trying to catch their breath but still wanting to dole out praise as their lungs burned.

“You’re incredible,” Leone barely managed to say.

“You’re divine,” Bruno replied, equally breathless.

Leone wrapped his arms around Bruno’s shoulders and pulled him down as Leone’s flopped onto the mattress. “I know this is corny but…” Leone began, taking a break to pant some more before continuing. “…the only thing I could think the entire time was…how much I love you, and how happy I am to have you.” Bruno wrapped his arms around Leone’s waist and squeezed, turning his head to kiss his neck. “Glad I wasn’t the only one,” he said, smiling against his skin.

He wiggled himself out of Leone’s embrace just enough to lean up and look at him. Opalescent skin flushed and nearly iridescent with sweat, silver hair sticking to his cheek and eyes still hazy, recovering from the rush of pleasure that had shot through him. Bruno sighed. “You’re a gift from the heavens.” They were Bruno’s thoughts, but they came out of Leone’s mouth. “You’re so beautiful, Bruno. You’re making my heart hurt,” Leone said, laughing lightly. Bruno blushed bright red, not expecting such tenderness. Leone was always sweet, but this was a lot, even for him.

“You look like you’re made of gold.” Leone tilted his head, as if to get a better look at him. “Wouldn’t be surprised if you were.” Bruno flopped down next to Leone, reflecting his beaming smile back at him. “I want to say something cute, but I can’t think straight thanks to you.” Leone snorted out a laugh and pulled Bruno closer to him. “You’ve said enough,” he said softly, closing his eyes to rest. “But now I’m hungry. When is the food coming?” Bruno paled, going completely still before scrambling to their door. He whispered a curse as he quickly brought the tray in. “They probably heard us!” he said, not able to hold back laughter. Leone leaned up tiredly and gave a half-smile. “Good for them.” Bruno put the tray down on the bed, crawling next to Leone and scooting up to sit against the headboard. Leone did the same thing, turning on the tv and flipping through channels before landing on a mystery show they both liked.

“It’s cold, but I honestly don’t give a shit. I’m so hungry,” Leone said, his mouth full of food. “It’s our fault it’s cold,” Bruno replied, mouth equally full. He rested his head on Leone’s shoulder when has finished, letting himself ease into the person he loved most. Surprisingly, he felt himself slipping into slumber, despite the construction, the wind, and the tv, Bruno felt his body get heavy with the telltale signs of approaching sleep. He indulged, slipping his eyes shut and drifting, but not before feeling Leone’s lips gently on his and a whispered, “I love you.” Bruno smiled, then gave into sleep.

They could explore the hotel later.

#bluff fics #bluff smut #bruabba #leone abbacchio #lion boy #Bruno Bucciarati #bucciadaddy #I guess I should also post them like this #since I know not everyone wants to click off of tumblr #I'll probably post my other ones like this later #smutty fluff #JJBA #Jojo Part 5 #jojo golden wind #also known as #the fic where bruno eats the peach

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takadasaiko · 6 years ago

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Second Chances: Chapter Six

FFN II AO3

Summary: Steve has every intention of returning the Infinity Stones to their correct place in the timeline and heading back to his own. His problems start when he makes an impulse decision to jump over to 1946 and Peggy decides to go back home with him. It only gets more complicated from there when Howard tags along with them to 2023. Tony lives fix-it fic. Pepperony.

Chapter Summary: Steve tries to figure out how to best handle the situation without admitting to Tony that he's brought not one but two people from the past into 2024.

Chapter Six

Howard had always liked a good challenge, and convincing Steve and Peggy that he had reluctantly given up on the idea of going with them had certainly been one. Peg lived in a state of suspicion with him - especially after his fib over the vile a few weeks before - and Steve had called him on his tendency to misdirect and straight out lie more than once during the War. He had been questioning when the ruse would be up, but now the question seemed to be which one of them would take a swing first. Howard lifted his hands in defense. "It's not nearly as bad as you're thinking it is."

"No, it's worse," Steve snapped.

"How? You talk to your buddy - Tony, right? The one that set you up with that suit - and he'll be able to send me back to the same day I left. No biggie. I'll even get to deliver Peg's letter."

He glanced over to find Peggy massaging the bridge of her nose, all of the earlier joy and excitement completely washed out of her. "That's never been the issue Howard. I'm staying, but if you go back seeing all of the advancements, everything that could suddenly have Starkon it rather than whatever name should have been attached —"

"Ouch, Peg. You think I'm here to, what? Steal technology? Like I can't come up with my own?"

"You don't have to steal anything to alter your own timeline in ways that can't-"

"Like taking Peggy from it?" Howard cut Steve off, the amusement no longer lining his voice. He'd expected pushback and plenty of eye rolling, maybe even a swing in his direction, but this was rich coming from them. "Yeah, neither of you have a lot of wiggle room on that one. I'm not going to destroy time and space by being here. Not how it works. Hell, I could meet myself and three generations after me and all it'd do is make for a potentially awkward situation." He pulled in a breath, trying to reel in the burst of temper along with it. "I just want to see it. Walk through Manhattan and then I'll go home like I was never here at all. You've seen it, Peg gets to see it…. All I'm doin' is asking for a chance to peek through the curtain. That's it. No harm done, I swear."

The breeze pushing at the trees overhead was the only sound for a long moment as both Cap and Peggy stared at him. Finally Steve loosed a breath. "We'll have to get ahold of a couple of people to make it happen."

"See, not so bad," Howard responded, his tone light again.

Cap didn't look entirely convinced as he pushed forward. "C'mon."

Peggy followed immediately, falling into lockstep with him. Howard waited half a beat before hurrying to join them. Well, it hadn't been smooth, but at least he'd made it.

___________

The first thing he did was grab a newspaper. June 2024. Okay. That wasn't…. terrible. Not great, but not terrible. He'd been gone just a little under a year then, even though it had only been a couple of weeks for him. That added complications, sure, but at least it wasn't decades this time.

Steve had no idea if his apartment would have been leased to someone else, but that was his second stop. If he were lucky - really lucky - the key would be….. there.

"Checkin' to see if the maid cleaned while you were away?" Howard popped off behind him as Steve ran his fingers along the top of the trimming around the door. He held up the key that he found there and Howard chuckled, lifting his hands in defeat.

Steve fit the key into the lock and turned, hearing the mechanisms shift and the lock slide out of place. He turned the knob and pushed inward. He was met immediately by the muted sound of the television. He was sure he didn't leave one on. Mostly because he didn't even own one when he'd left.

"Someone kept it up," Peggy said cautiously and Steve made a small sound of acknowledgement.

He was halfway to telling Howard to wait outside when the creek of the old, pre-war apartment's floor sounded a warning and Peggy shouted as Steve spun, meeting his attacker to block the blow aimed at him. Both men froze and he found a set of dark eyes on him. "I'll be damned," Sam Wilson managed. "Cap. You're back."

His lips tilted at the corners and he lowered his defenses. "Yeah, Sam. I'm back."

"With friends," the other man said uncertainly, motioning to Peggy and Howard.

Steve cleared his throat. "Yeah…. Sam, this is Peggy Carter and Howard….. Stark."

The younger man's expression inched towards amusement. "Hell, Cap. He's gonna kill you."

Steve didn't even have to ask who he was. He was well aware. "Yeah, I know. I, uh…. We're going to fix it. I'd rather let him know after we get Howard back to the past."

Sam lifted an eyebrow. "So…. she's staying?"

"She is," Peggy grumbled, obviously irritated at being talked about without being included.

"But he's not?"

Steve could feel the tension building in the room between the questions and the lack of names and the overall vagueness that wouldn't set well with anyone. Peggy had squared her shoulders next to him and Howard…. okay apparently the tension was all Peggy. Howard was halfway into the apartment. His fingers drifted over the TV that Sam must have brought with him when he'd taken over Steve's lease, dark eyes wide as he explored every inch.

The inventor crouched down in front of the entertainment center, fixated. "Is this a television?" he managed, and Steve was sure he'd never heard his old friend impressed until that moment. Great. The twenty-first century was going to give Tony's father an aneurysm and there'd be no sending him back. That'd be about the way things played out.

"Yeah…" Sam answered uncertainly.

"And these?" Howard asked, pointing at a collection of various boxes below the TV.

"Uhh… Blu Ray player and gaming systems." He turned to look directly at Steve. "Am I allowed to tell him that?"

"I'm not sure he'd give up until you did," Steve huffed and kept a wary eye on Howard as he continued to explore like a child on Christmas morning shaking gifts under the tree.

"So," Peggy cut in. "Sam, was it?"

"Wilson," Sam acknowledged, reaching a hand out to shake her. "And you are the Peggy Carter. Co-founder of SHIELD."

"Not anymore," she said tensely.

"In our timeline you are. Still makes you damn impressive. Ma'am."

She cracked a small smile at that and Steve found his friend's gaze back in him. "We thought you were gone."

"I took a detour."

"I can see that."

"And you moved into my place."

Sam looked sheepish. "We knew how long it took you to secure a place in Brooklyn that wasn't crazy expensive, and it just…. we couldn't let just anybody take it."

"We?" Steve echoed.

"You've missed a lot in the last few months."

A loud crash sounded off from the kitchen and the three vets jumped, all ready for a fight. Howard peeked around the corner from the kitchen. "Everything's good. It's fine. No irreparable harm done. You weren't attached to those big red bowls, were you, Sammy?"

Sam paled slightly. "You broke my popcorn bowl?!"

___________

There was a shrill squeal that accompanied the five-year-old piling into the middle of the bed. Tony was halfway to sitting before his sleep-addled mind pieced together what was happening. He heard Pepper groan at his side and he reached up blindly, catching Morgan's around the shoulders with his arm and dragging her down into a hug she couldn't pull out of. Morgan squirmed and giggled, but her daddy had her locked into the bear hug, a smile tilting his lips even though his eyes were still closed

"Daddy! Let goooooo."

"Nope. I'm sleeping."

"No you're not!"

"Uh-huh."

"Nu-uh!"

"How did I end up with two kids?" Pepper groaned, and before Tony knew it there was a pillow being awkwardly smacked in their general direction.

"Pillow fight!" Morgan announced.

"Tony, I swear if you let her up —" his wife warned, but he was already loosing his grip.

"What can I say, hon? She's just too good. Regular contortionist. There's no holding her."

Morgan went after her mom first, Pepper laughing as she shielded her face. It wasn't long until she turned on her father too, and the Stark household dissolved into giggly chaos. By the end up it Tony was standing on the bed, feet sinking into the memory foam mattress, and in a standoff with his daughter.

"Drop your weapon or face Iron Girl!" Morgan announced in all seriousness and Tony had to swallow the burst of laughter.

"I thought you'd be at least thirteen before I became the villain. What'd I do?"

"Jumped on the bed and taught our daughter terrible habits," Pepper deadpanned from the bathroom that she had retreated to in order to stay as far away from the waging war as possible.

"You tried to blow up the world," Morgan told him matter-of-factly.

"Wow. I am bad. You're right," he said with a grin.

"I'm gonna beat you!" Morgan announced and threw the pillow, adding sound effects that sounded at least vaguely like the energy beams from the Iron Man suit.

The cube of fluff hit his shins and Tony made a show of going down, bouncing against the bed and flopping out. He felt Morgan creep closer and he cracked an eye open. "You saved the world. Good job, kiddo."

She grinned, showing off her newly missing tooth. "Can I have cinnamon toast for breakfast?"

"Definitely." He scooped her up on his way to rolling off the bed. "Pep, you want an omelet?"

"Just a smoothie. Do we have spinach?" she called from the bathroom.

"We do."

"With banana, please."

"I think I can manage that."

"No strawberries!"

"I know!" he chuckled as he slipped his feet into his slippers, flexing the fingers of his right hand. Stiff and a little slow, they still moved on command, even without the brace. It had been a full week since he'd had to use it, Peter's altered formula for Extremis proving to do the job without leaving his brain itching for more. The kid was good, he had to give him that. The real test would come when the nerve damage was fully repaired and he completely cut himself off from the localized doses. All he would have to rely on was the glowing ARC reactor in his chest to keep his heart beating, but that was hardly abnormal. Strangely enough it had almost been like welcoming back an old friend.

"Boss, Peter Parker is calling in," FRIDAY's voice echoed as Tony and Morgan made it down the stairs and into the kitchen.

"What's the kid doing up at this hour?"

"Fighting bad guys?" Morgan offered.

"Maybe. If so, he missed curfew and his aunt's gonna kill him."

"What's curfew?"

Tony glanced down, finding a big pair of brown eyes latched curiously on him. The questions never ended and he loved it. "When you need to be home," he explained to his daughter. "FRIDAY, put him through."

There was a click of the call connecting as Tony grabbed for the ingredients he needed, Morgan hopping from a stool to the table top and sitting there. She started to cross her legs on the table, but one look from her dad stopped that in its tracks. She gave him the most innocent grin he was sure he'd ever seen. He shot her a look. "Halo's a little crooked there, missy."

"Mr Stark?" Peter's uncertain voice echoed over the speakers.

"Good morning, Pete. You're up early."

"You too."

"If I told you I wasn't would you feel guilty?"

There was a long pause on the other end. "But FRIDAY wouldn't have…. you're joking aren't you?"

"Yup." Tony started sprinkling sugar and cinnamon on the bread. "What's up, kid?"

"Oh, uh…. hows's the new dose working out? Still lasting?"

"So far so good, but I doubt you called me at six in the morning to find that out."

"Daddy, more cinnamon," Morgan instructed and be quirked an eyebrow before dumping more on. She gave a nod of approval.

"Not that I don't like hearing from you, kid, but —"

"CaptainRogersisback."

It took a long moment for his pre-caffeinated brain to work through the run-together words, and even as he did he had trouble believing them. His hands stilled, his eyes unblinking. "What?"

"Captain Rogers is back," Peter said again, slower this time.

"Back?"

"Yeah."

"How…? And how long?"

"I don't know the details. I shouldn't even be telling you…."

"Like hell you shouldn't," Tony growled. "Where'd you hear it?"

"Uhhh….. through the Avengers grapevine."

Avengers grapevine? What did that even mean? Tony hadn't been thatfar out of the loop. "Where is he?"

"His place. In Brooklyn. From what I heard," Peter said, his voice entirely uncertain.

Tony pulled in a steadying breath. "Okay. I'll get to the bottom of it. Just…." He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. Peter didn't need any other pressure on him right then. "Thanks, kid. You did good."

"Really? I didn't break some kind of code or something, did I?"

"Probably, but you kept the one that mattered. I'll be in the city today. I'll drop by and we can talk after you're out of school."

"I'm… on summer break?"

"Right. Okay. Good. After I get done one Brooklyn."

"Do you need the address?"

"No, I've got it." He glanced up at the speaker. "End call."

"Is Uncle Steve in trouble?" Morgan asked from the table.

"He's got some explaining to do," her father grumbled.

"Can he explain after you make cinnamon toast?"

Tony blinked at the half put together breakfast he'd promised his daughter. "Yeah, sweetie. Uncle Steve can wait."

___________

It was one delay after another. First breakfast, then Pepper decided she needed to go into the city that day too, so instead of hopping in the car and going, Tony was waiting on his wife and daughter to get ready. She could tell him all day long that she needed to go into the office for this or that, but she hadn't let him drive the two hours from their cabin into the city alone since they had moved back out. He had the OK from every doctor that mattered saying that he could drive again, but that didn't seem to satisfy her. What if something happened? It was a lingering, albeit unspoken fear, and as much as he would like to he couldn't quite hold it against her. Or tell her no. It was one less thing she had to worry about, even if he knew he was doing better than he had been in a long time.

"Do we get to see Pete?" Morgan asked as she bounded down the stairs, fully dressed and ready to go.

"Yep. After I talk to Uncle Steve."

"Can I see Uncle Steve too?"

"Why don't we let your daddy talk to him first? You can help me at the office," Pepper offered and she looked ready for a board meeting. Maybe she really had been planning to go in that day.

Morgan made a face at the idea and Tony reached out to ruffle her hair. "I won't be long."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"You ready?" Pepper asked as she grabbed the key fob from the ring by the door.

"Any chance you'll let me drive?"

Surprisingly enough she tossed the key his way and he reached up, thankful that his fingers chose to wrap around it rather than let it clatter to the floor. If it was a test or not really didn't matter. He felt like he'd won something in that. One more small step forward.

The trip was filled with Morgan's chatter in and around Pepper filling him in on the meetings she had scheduled for that day. Happy would meet her there and make sure Morgan wouldn't be too bored. Tony was sure that their head of security just lovedthe idea of being put on babysitting duty.

By the time he dropped them off at their New York headquarters plans had changed five times before finally settling on calling Peter to come keep her occupied. He left the situation in the best of hands before turning the Audii towards Brooklyn, his mind racing in the fresh silence. They had told him that Cap hadn't made it back, which they had all taken to mean that something had happened to him. What, they couldn't be sure, but popping back up nearly a year later didn't make any sense. Not telling Tony that he was back made even less. He had thought that, after everything, they were good. When he had left they had been good.

Tony pulled the car up to an apartment building that he'd never seen in person. It was old. Pre-war. Just the type Cap would have gone for. Sam Wilson had moved into it when Cap hadn't come back, so he must know that Steve was home. Who was next in the so-called Avengers grapevine was anybody's best guess. He still wasn't sure how Peter had found out, and he'd been too surprised that morning to press the kid on it.

A tap came at his window and Tony jumped in his seat, turning to find a patrol cop leaned down. "You lost, buddy?" he asked, but as Tony rolled the window down he watched surprise take hold.

"Nah, I'm good. Just here to see a friend."

"Holy crap. You're Iron Man."

"Used to be."

"I heard what you did…. everybody did. Are those —"

He was motioning to the scars that lined the right side of Tony's face and the former Avenger immediately opened the door. "'Scuse me, but I'm already late. You mind?"

"Oh yeah. Yeah, sure. Listen, if it's not too much trouble, my son is a huge fan of yours."

Tony offered a thin smile. "Sure, what's his name?"

A scrawled signature and photo later Tony was on his way up the flights of stairs, feeling it by the time he reached Cap's floor.

He stopped at the door, pulling in a shaky breath and steadying himself. It was fine. He'd get answers and that irritating, nagging feeling of being purposefully left in the dark would dissipate. Cap was always annoyingly consistent in having his reasons for doing things. He reached up, ready to tap against the door as it pulled open from the inside.

Suddenly Steve Rogers was standing right in front of him, a look of surprise plastered on his face. "Tony," he breathed, a little guilt around the edges of his name.

"Knew you were forgetting to tell someone something, huh?" Tony tried for a quip.

"Steve, is really like to see —" The woman who owned the voice rounded the corner and slammed to a stop. "Oh. Hello."

Steve sucked in a breath. "Tony, this is —"

"Peggy Carter," Tony finished for him, the first real smile touching his lips since that morning. "This is all making a lot more sense."

"You're not mad?"

The question sounded too small to be coming out of Captain America's mouth and Tony cracked a grin as he stepped into the apartment. "Well, you're not gonna shatter time and space, I don't think. I'm sure her new timeline will find a way to compensate." He turned to meet his friend's eyes. "You deserve a little happiness after everything. I get it, Cap."

A rush of air left the older man. "You don't know how good it is to hear you say that."

"That doesn't mean I'm not gonna hold this over your head until one of us finally bites the dust."

"Cap, did you say Tony? Your inventor friend?" a voice called out and Tony looked over. That voice sounded like —

"Holy shit," Tony breathed as Howard Stark rounded the corner.

___________

TBC

Notes: And to think I thought this chapter was going to be on the short side... I had a lot of fun with this one. Pepperony fluff, Iron Fam, and Tony realizing that Steve not only brought one person back from the 40's, but two... the other being his dad. I've been looking forward to this chapter for a long time lol Even more so the next chapter.

Next Time: Tony tries to process what's going on and Steve asks for help.

#Endgame fix it fic #Steve Rogers #Peggy Carter #Howard Stark #Tony Stark #Pepper Potts #Morgan Stark #Peter Parker

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lunacatzuniverse · 7 years ago

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No clue as to what to title this, nor do I know how to label it. It’s just a fan fic that I hope you’ll enjoy.

It was an average day in the Mind Palace. Logan sat reading a book on the couch, while Patton gave Virgil a much-needed haircut in the kitchen.

“Now, just sit still, and I’ll be done in a jiff kiddo.” Said Patton.

Virgil squirmed on the stool, “But Roman’s the one that usually does it. I’d really feel better if he was the one.” Patton sighed and waited for him to quit fidgeting.

“Speaking of Roman. Where is he?” asked Logan.

“He mumbled something about the Dragon Witch last night. Supposedly, she was giving Thomas nightmares again.” Replied Virgil.

*snip*

“AHHH!” Virgil screamed.

“I didn’t even cut anything. I was just testing the scissors.” laughed Patton. Virgil stood up and skittered out of the Kitchen. “I’ll wait for Roman. Thanks, though Patton.”

Patton pouted “Aww c’mon kiddo, ya gotta trust me sometime.” Virgil shook his head and sat down next to Logan and pulled out his video game. Roman walked slowly in through the front door, his sash hung down by his elbow, while sweat trickled off his brow and a light pink dust covered him from head to toe. He got to the base of the steps and collapsed.

Logan made it to his side first “Roman, are you ok?” he asked, inspecting the dust on his friend. Roman rolled over on his own. “The Dragon Witch, she was very aggressive this time and somehow managed to get away. Before her escape though, she threw a bag at me that burst open. It blinded me for a mere moment, and when I finally focused my eyes, she was gone. I’m just exhausted from the battle that’s all.” He held out his hand, and Logan helped him to stand. “I’m going to go shower and then rest till dinner time.” He slowly trudged up the stairs to his room.

Patton looked at the floor; it was covered in the pink dust that had covered Roman and shook his head in disapproval. “What a mess, I’ll go grab the vacuum. “

Time passed, and Patton was in the kitchen making a chicken and spinach pizza. “Hey, Virgil. Could you go and let Roman know dinner’s about done please.” Virgil put his video game away and went upstairs. He knocked on Roman’s door and waited. When he didn’t hear a response, he knocked and opened the door a crack. “Roman? Dinner’s ready.” Again, there was no reply. “I’m coming in,” he said. Virgil opened the door and looked in the direction of Roman’s bed, where he found Roman fast asleep, with his laptop open and headset on. He walked up to him and removed the headset and gently nudged his friend. Roman let out a small moan “hmm?”

“Dinner’s ready.” Replied Virgil. Roman nodded his head in understandment and rolled over. Virgil smiled and shook his head, then left the room. A few moments passed, and Roman came downstairs yawning as he approached the dinner table.

“Feeling any better?” asked Patton. Roman shrugged his shoulders and sat down next to Virgil. “So, did I miss anything while I was asleep?” he asked as he reached for a piece of pizza. Everyone shook their head no.

“It’s been a quiet day.” Replied Logan “Well that is, till Patton tried to cut Virgil’s hair.” Roman laughed “I see that it must not have gone over well.” Patton put his head down “He doesn’t trust me as he does you.”

Virgil let out a sigh. “It's not that I don’t trust you, Patton. It’s just… I get very nervous around scissors, and the sound they make creeps me out.” Patton looked at him confused.

“But isn’t the sound still there when Roman cuts it?” he asked.

Virgil shook his head no. “His singing drowns out the fact he’s cutting my hair, and before I know it, he’s done.” Patton’s eyes widened. “Well, why didn’t you say so? I would have sung for you to... “All three of the other sides choked on their pizza. Patton stared at them and started laughing. “Geez, love you too.” He threw a piece of his pizza at Virgil, who in turn threw one back but missed and hit Logan instead. Before they knew it, they were all laughing and having a food fight.

Roman woke up with a sharp pain in his legs. He rolled over and let out a scream into his pillow, so as to not disturb the others. His attempts though to hide his pain failed. Virgil burst into his room with a baseball bat. “Roman? You ok?” he called out while looking around the room frantically as if expecting to meet some unforeseen attacker.

“At ease soldier.” Roman grunted “I got a bad Charlie horse in my legs. That caught me off guard. Sorry for waking you.” Virgil let out a sigh of relief and ran his hand through his hair. Logan appeared behind Virgil. “What’s going on?” He asked. Virgil let out a yip of surprise. “Dude! Make noise when you approach! Roman has a Charlie horse in both his legs.” Logan gently pushed Virgil aside “Let me look.” He walked up to Roman. “With your permission.” Logan pointed to Roman’s legs. Roman winced as he nodded his head. Logan ran his hands gently over Roman’s legs in a massaging manner. Roman gripped the mattress and screamed in pain. “Stop, stop. That’s making it worse.”

Logan scratched his head “Interesting. Let me get you some Ibuprofen and see if that will help. It has a muscle relaxant in it and a pain reducer.” He stood up and left the room. Virgil stood there watching. “Anything I can do for ya?” he asked. Roman shook his head no. “Just make sure Patton doesn’t come in here. I don’t need him seeing me like this.” Virgil nodded his head and left the room. Logan returned with a glass of water. “Here. Hopefully, these will help. It won’t be an instantaneous relief, but in about twenty minutes you should feel its effects.” Roman thanked Logan and took the pills, the pain in his legs slowly subsided, and he was finally able to rest. Logan sat beside him for a , till he felt that Roman would be ok on his own. When Logan left the room, he found a sleeping Virgil leaning against the wall. He chuckled to himself and snapped a quick pic, he then sent it to Roman’s phone with the hashtag Your fearless defender.

In the morning Logan went straight to Roman’s room and knocked on the door. “Come in.” He entered the room. Roman was laying on his bed with his laptop, working on some ideas to turn in to Thomas. “Oh, morning Logan.” He smiled.

“Good morning. How are your legs this morning?” asked Logan as he sat next to Roman’s bed. “They still kinda hurt, but I’m doing much better. Thanks.” Logan nodded his head in approval. “Well take two more Ibuprofen before coming down to eat.” He stood up and left the room. Roman finished typing out his thought and got up to get dressed. He grabbed some clean slacks off the back of his chair. “That’s odd.” His pants laid in a bunch around his feet and he had to tighten his belt two extra notches to fit right. When he put on his jacket, it also hangs a bit big on him. “Uhm. I’ve heard of losing weight, but this is a bit different.” He shook his head in confusion and walked out of his room, bumping into Patton.

“Oh, hey Roman. I, uh. Do you have your boots off?” Patton looked down at Roman’s feet to confirm. When he saw they were on, he looked back up to Roman’s eyes with a confused look. “How, how are you my height? Usually, I have to look up to you.”

Roman shrugged his shoulders and pushed past a bewildered Patton. He bounded down the stairs. “Logan!” he cried out, Logan met him at the base.

“What’s up?”

Roman stopped two steps above Logan. He looked Logan straight in the eye. “Watch.” Roman continued down the stairs and stood in front of him, but their gaze shifted Logan had to now look down to Roman. “I think I’m shrinking.” He said after a moment. Logan looked at him inquisitively and then started walking around Roman trying to rack his brain as to what had happened to his friend.

“What are you? A rutty vulture all of a sudden?!” snapped Roman. He let out a yelp of pain and crumpled to the floor.

“Is it your legs again?” asked Logan. Roman nodded his head yes “An now my back hurts too.” He cried out in pain again. Virgil came running down the stairs with Patton, in a swift motion he lifted Roman up in his arms and whisked him back upstairs. Patton looked at Logan confused “What’s going on?” he asked. Logan scratched his head in thought “I wish I knew. It seems like Roman’s shrinking, but I don’t know what could have caused it?”

“The pink dust. Didn’t Roman say that the Dragon Witch threw some at him?” Logan looked up at Patton in surprise. “Your right! Why didn’t I think of that? She must have cast a spell on him, that’s causing him to shrink.”

“How do we stop it? Or will he poof out of existence?” asked Patton. Logan thought for a moment “I don’t know… When you vacuumed yesterday, did you leave the dust in the vacuum or toss it?”

“Sorry, I tossed it.” Replied Patton a little saddened knowing he had.

“I need to get my hands on that dust. I’m going to take Virgil with me to the Dragon Witches lair and see if we can’t get our hands on some more. Maybe then I can use some of that Chemical Engineering Thomas, and I learned to make an antidote. I’ll need you to try and make Roman as comfortable as possible till we get back. Hot water bottles should help.”

Patton saluted Logan “Aye, aye Captain.” turned and ran up the stairs.

“Remind me again, why you brought me with?” whispered Virgil as he crept through the forest with Logan. “Well, I figured you’d be more of a fighter than a flighter then Patton. In other words, I trust you not to leave me behind.”

Virgil chuckled “We really need to start trusting Patton more. I mean sure his dad jokes are corny, he doesn’t know the real meaning of adultery, he trips on air and uh oh. Well, he’s still a great guy that gives big warm hugs and makes boss treats.”

“Where exactly where were you going with that?” asked Logan a bit amused by Virgil’s randomness.

“Shh.” Virgil pointed towards a cave. “Did you see that?” Logan looked in the direction Virgil was pointing, out of the cave a shadow had emerged and then disappeared into the trees. The two looked at each other with quizzical looks on their faces. Logan motioned that they walk around to creep up on the edge of the entrance. They went to move *snap* the two froze “Well, well what have we here?” spoke a voice that sent chills down their spines. Slowly they turned around and were met with a woman who had dragon wings on her back and a silver horn-shaped crown on her head.

“Desalyn.” hissed Virgil.

“Oh hello, Virgil. I’m surprised you remembered my name.” A wicked smile crossed her mouth, “But I haven’t seen this tasty morsel before. What is your name?” Logan took a deep breath “My name is of no concern of yours, Dragon Witch.”

“Oh, my. Do I hear a bit of disdain in your voice? Whatever have I done to deserve such ill will from you?” She shed a tear from her eye.

“LOOK OUT!” Shouted Virgil. Before Logan knew what was happening, he felt a shove from Virgil and heard the sound of something crackling behind him. He turned around and saw an ice sculpture of Virgil.

“Crap.” He scurried backward and made a mad dash for the cave. As he ran, he could hear Desalyn cackling in pursuit. “I may not know your name, but I know who you are. So run you little Sander Side run. It will make catching you even more delightful.”

Patton looked at the clock on Roman’s nightstand. Virgil and Logan had been gone for five hours and since their departure Roman had shrunk to the size of a 5-year-old child. He checked the hot water bottles; they seemed to have helped ease his friend's pain. Roman’s eyes opened, and he focused on Patton, “They back yet?” he asked. Patton shook his head no.

“Maybe they're stuck in traffic? Or are gathering herbs for the antidote. Either way, their phones aren’t working.” Said Patton with a forced smile on his face. Roman smiled back, “Always the optimist, but I fear something may have happened. Virgil knows the Dragon Witch all too well; I just hope he hasn’t slipped back.”

“Slipped back?” asked Patton.

“That’s right you and Logan don’t know. Virgil was once one of her children; I managed to save him from her evil grasp.”

“You mean the Dragon Witch is Virgil’s mom?!” gasped Patton.

“Yes, that’s why I don’t kill the foul beast, but instead keep her tamed. Which is why I can’t wait any longer, I can’t wait for those two to save me. I fear that they're the ones who need saving.” Roman stood up on his bed; his shirt had become a nightgown on him “That is after I find some clothes that fit.”

Patton shook his head and pushed Roman back into his bed. “No young man, it’s too dangerous for you to go out in your condition. At least I’m sure that is what Logan would say. I’ll go – “

“No!” Roman cut-off Patton. “I have to be the one to go. You’ve no experience with her, only Virgil and I do.”

Patton let a deep sigh and stood up. “Ya know, I’m getting really hurt by you three constantly thinking I’m too nice or good to do anything. But if you insist on going fine, but for now stay put!” with that said he left the room. Roman did as he was told and sat there on his bed; it was the first time he’d ever seen Patton yell before. He was impressed and at the same time worried; he didn’t mean to hurt Patton’s feelings. A few moments passed, and Patton returned, he chucked some clothes at Roman.

“Here put these on. Can’t have you running around naked.” He snapped.

“Where did these come from?” Roman asked.

“Really? Don't you recognize them?” replied Patton.

“No, wait this can’t be,” Roman said in surprise. “Is this my first knight's outfit?” Patton nodded his head yes. “You forget, I’m a bit of a packrat. Also, you may want to take this.” He handed Roman a thin box. Roman looked at in confusion “What is it?”

“It was meant to be a birthday gift, but given the circumstances, this will be better suited for you.”

Roman opened the box and found that inside was a Page’s Broadsword. “Where ever did you get this?” he asked amazed at the gift.

“Thomas had read a medieval book on knights and so I went to the Mindscape Center and had one made for you. I hope it serves you well, can we go now before you shrink again?”

Logan regretted running into the cave because not only was he lost, but he knew that the Dragon Witch waited for him to head back out of the cave. ‘Wait, not Dragon Witch, Virgil called her Desalyn. How did he know her name? No time for that, pink dust where would she keep the pink dust.’ Thought Logan. He made his way through the halls of the cave, slowly opening doors and peeking in to see what lie on the other side of them. Some of the rooms were empty bedrooms, others led to more halls of doors. How far in was this cave? Some of the doors had sounds on the other side, those ones he left alone. Soon Logan came to a door that was unlike the rest it was a dark purple door. He put his ear to it, he didn’t hear anything so he tested the nob and it turned. Slowly he opened the door and peeked in. On the other side of the door was a bedroom, but it had a tinge of familiarity to it. He heard a noise down the hall, so he quickly jumped into the room and lightly closed the door behind him. He crouched in the closet and when the door opened to the room he held his breath. Logan strained to listen over his beating heart, which he was sure to give himself away. The door closed he slowly released his breath and waited a moment more. He peaked out of the closet and saw the room was empty. Stepping out of the closet his foot snagged on something causing him to trip. Logan looked to see what he had caught his foot on and found a patched up duffle bag. ‘Hang on, those patches look familiar.’ Logan thought to himself, he pulled the duffle bag closer and started rummaging through it. He gasped when he found a torn picture wrapped in a shirt. In the photo was Desalyn who was holding someones hand that was torn off, a toddler-sized Virgil, a young Deceit and a few other children whose faces were scratched out.

“I don’t think you were meant to sssssee that.” Came a voice from the shadows. Logan looked around him startled by the sound. “Who’s there?”

“Me.” Out of the shadows stepped Deceit. “What are you doing in my brother’s room?”

“Brother? You don’t mean… No… Falsehood. I know of your deceiving ways. You won’t fool me.”

The two faced side smiled “Oh, ye of little faith. You're holding the truth in your hands. What more proof do you need?”

Logan removed the photo from its frame and put it in his pocket. He glared at Deceit “So, you’ve caught me. Now what?” Deceit shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know.” He looked at Logan with a decerning eye. “I know, let’s play a game because I’m bored. If you entertain me, I’ll set you free. If you don’t, I’ll hand you over to Mother. Do we have a deal?”

“I really don’t have time for games. Your Mother, as you call her, put a spell on my friend Roman. He’s shrinking, and I need to stop it before he poof’s out of existence.” With his fists now clenched at his side, Logan’s glare on his face became more profound.

“Oooo so you do have feelings.” Deceit let out “And with that, you have entertained me. See that wasn’t so hard to do.”

“Enough of this. I need to go so; please let me pass.” Logan made to move for the door, but Deceit stood in his way.

“Hang on; you said Roman was in danger? If that’s so, why are you here and not my brother? He knows mother the best out of all you Sander Sides. You’d figure he’d come in here and get what you need.” Logan closed his eyes and spoke through clenched teeth. “Your mother tried to freeze me, but instead hit Virgil who pushed me out of the way.”Deceits snake eye glowed red and his brow furrowed. He grabbed Logan by the wrist “Show me.”

Desalyn looked at the clock on her wall; it was almost time for Thomas to fall asleep and make his way to the dream realm. She gave a wicked smile and walked outside, she then spread her wings and shot off into the night sky letting out a malicious laugh. Roman and Patton watched Desalyn fly away from their hiding spot outside.

“ Where do you think she’s going?” asked Patton.

“She’s going after Thomas. He’ll be entering the Dream Realm soon and if I’m not there to stop her…”

“I don’t want to think of that.�� Patton cut off Roman. “Let’s go and see if we can find the others and get you fixed.” They were about to head in when they heard Logan’s voice from behind them. Roman and Patton turned around and saw Logan waving at them and beckoning them to go to him. They ran to him as fast they could “What’s going on?” Asked Roman.

“It’s a long story, but I’m glad you’re here.” Said Logan. They walked around a bush and saw a frozen Virgil and Deceit. “Hello, Roman.” Hissed Deceit. “Daemon.” Replied Roman.

“As you can see, Mother used her ice tears on Virgil. Logan; wait here with your other friend, and I’ll go fix Roman and then come back and help my brother.” Daemon walked up to Roman and laid his hand on his shoulder. “Shall we?” With that, they were gone.

Daemon teleported Roman and himself into Desalyn’s laboratory. He walked over to a cabinet and started looking through it. After a moment he grabbed a bottle and walked up to Roman. “Here, drink this. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I know it works. Mother, tested it out on one of her other children and their normal again.”

Roman took the bottle and looked at Daemon with a questioning eye. “Why are you doing this for my friends and me. Won’t you get in trouble?”

“I don’t care anymore. Since Virgle left, it’s just been old hat around here if I could leave I would. I was hoping if I helped you and your friends. You’d take me away with you like you did for Virgil.”

Roman sighed “You know I would Daemon, but I need you in here. Your lies at times are too much and well. Thomas is a great guy and having you in the Mind Palace, would only corrupt him. The reason I took Virgil, is that he’s what Thomas needs to help balance him out and not make him too chaotic with his choices. Virgil helps reel him in. I’m sorry.”

Deceit let out a sigh and shrugged his shoulders. “Now to find the antidote for Virgil.” He turned his back on Roman and started to head back to the cabinet. Behind him, he heard Roman collapse. Daemon continued to the cabinet unphased by the sound. His hand skimmed the shelves. “Dragons Breath, Dragons Breath.” he muttered as he searched. Once he found it Daemon walked back over to the unconscious Side and once again teleported them back to where they’d left the others.

“What did you to him?” demanded Patton.

“Nothing, it’s the antidote he took. I don’t know how it works; so he may be out for awhile.” Roman let out a groan and started to slowly grow back to his original form. “See.”

Daemon walked up to Virgil and opened the Dragon’s Breath under his nose. A red gas poured out and quickly snaked its way around Virgil’s body. The ice cracked and shattered, and Virgil collapsed to the ground gasping for air. He shivered as he looked around him in a dazed state. Daemon took off his cloak and wrapped it around him. Then he went and took Romans sword, walked up to Patton and held out his hand.

“Come on, Thomas needs your help.”

Patton looked at Daemon in confusion. “Me? But..”

“You’re the heart of Thomas right?” Patton nodded “Who else, besides Roman, could tame my Mother, but my Father?”

Desalyn held Thomas tightly in her talons, and he cried out to Roman for help. She let out a laugh “You fool, there is no more Roman. I finally got rid of him, and soon you will be under my control.”

“Not if I can help it.” Came a voice.

Desalyn and Thomas looked down in the direction of the voice and saw Patton armed with Roman’s sword. Thomas let out a shout of relief “PATTON!” he then looked confused “Patton?” Patton smiled up at Thomas “Hang on Kiddo. I’ll save you.”

“You? What could you do?” jeered Desalyn.

Patton swung the sword around his head once, pointed at Desalyn and let out an enraged cry. From the sword, a blinding blue light emanated out of it and struck Desalyn in the chest. She let out a shriek of pain dropping Thomas. Daemon lept up and caught him in mid-air, he then teleported him out of the Dream Realm, and into the forest with the other Sander Sides.

Desalyn morphed back into her Dragon Witch form and lay unconscious. Patton willed the sword back to Roman and ran to Desalyn’s side. Gently he picked her up and held her close, he teleported them both to her chambers. Once there Patton laid her down on her bed. He leaned in gave her a kiss on the forehead, whispered something in her ear and then teleported out of the room.

When Patton returned to the forest, he found the three sides, Thomas and Daemon crowded around the picture that Logan held in his hand. Thomas looked up and saw Patton, he pushed past the others, ran up to Patton and wrapped his arms around him in a big warm embrace. “Thanks for saving me.”

Patton smiled “Any time kiddo.” he then whispered something in Thomas’s ear, and when he was done, Thomas faded away.

“Where did he go?” asked Daemon. “Oh, I sent him to wake up.” Replied Patton.

“You have a lot of explaining to do.” Said Logan who held up the photo he’d taken.

Patton smiled and laughed “No I don’t. You see I didn’t expect things to go this awry.” He walked up to Logan and took the photo from him. The photo then sparked into flames and vanished. “You see I finally realized where I’d gone wrong. Now since that photo is destroyed, all should hopefully go back to the way I’d planned.”

“The way you planned?” asked Virgil.

“Yes, you see I never meant for any of you to know that I’m actually your father. I wanted my past to disappear. So I cast a big spell erasing all of your memories, but it seems the only one I couldn’t deceive was my own son Deceit. But no worries, I’ve put a new spell in motion and pretty soon you all won’t remember what has transpired here, and we can all just go back to the way we were before.” Everyone looked at each other in confusion, but before they could react everything faded from their view, and they woke up in their own respective beds with no memories of what had transpired. The only one who would remember was Patton.

Or so he thought….

Hey;

If you felt inspired to draw something while reading this, please do. I’d love to see your drawings. Thanks

~Luna

#thatsthat24 #thejoanglebook #freakingmeout99 #thatonenerdtm #anxietystatement #novaedream #ts-storytime #myetie

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starlit--dreams · 8 years ago

Text

What’s Bred in the Bone: Part IV

Mass Effect: Andromeda

Jaal x Sara Ryder

A 600 year nap and a 2.5 million light-year journey to find out the answer: are humans and angara genetically compatible?

Rated M for strong language, some sexuality and violence. Alien-human pregnancy fic.

Spoilers for Jaal’s romance and loyalty mission, and end of game.

Part IV of ??? - Part I - Part II - Part III - Part V

“What do you mean that intel wasn’t sent by you?” Jaal growlled at the vidcom. Evfra’s holo-image crossed its arms, scowling.

“It. Wasn’t. Sent. By. Me,” he said again, emphasising every word. “In fact, I believe I distinctly told you that I would not involve the Resistance against Akksul.”

“If it wasn’t you, then who did?” Scott cut in.

“It came from the Resistance’s Headquaters,” Jaal said. “Code Kya-Teem-Uni. Only high ranking Resistance officers would be able to use that.”

“Damn it,” Evfra muttered.

“Sounds like you might have a mole,” Scott said. “But what I still don’t understand is why. Why would Akksul warn us? Why not lure us there, and go after Sara while we were busy? Or just try to get us out of the way right then?”

“He claimed it was for honor,” Jaal snorted. “But I believe it’s more for his Roekaar’s benefit than ours. I doubt they could all stomach such a thing without a warning issued first.”

“And I don’t appreciate you accusing my men and women of being moles for the Roekaar,” Evfra growled.

“What other explanation is there?” Scott asked, irritated. “If the code is only for high level Resistance -- ”

“Be at peace,” another voice broke in, and a new figure appeared in holo, next to Evfra’s image.

“Moshae Sjefa -- ”

“I sent the message,” she said matter-of-factly. “Though I didn’t think Akksul would even consider such a thing.” Jaal could hear the strain in her voice, a break in the undertones. The sorrow. He let out a deep breath. All of this and she still loved Akksul so much. She still harboured such a blind spot for the man. It was… disappointing. And heartbreaking, in a way.

“Really? You didn’t think the man with the anti-alien agenda would consider hybrid children to be anathema?” Scott started, voice getting heated.

Three pairs of hard angara eyes locked on him, and the human abandoned the train of thought.

“I thought Akksul just wanted to exchange words with Jaal,” the Moshae sighed. “I was wrong.”

“He did,” Scott sighed, letting go of his anger. “But now I think he’s going to back up those words with action.”

“And what will you do?” the Moshae asked. It was not in her usual sharp, unfettered tone. It was soft, almost defeated.

“We plan to bring Sara back onto the Tempest,” Jaal explained. “Then Akksul can’t find her so easily.”

“Well, good enough for now,” Evfra grunted. “But that’s not a long term solution.”

“We thought -- ”

“The answer is no. The Resistance will not get involved in this. Take her back to her own people, Jaal.”

“She is my wife,” he said slowly. “She is family.”

“No. The Council certainly has not decided such a thing. The Assemblage hasn’t even begun to discuss it. She has no rights under our laws.”

“She could become it,” the Moshae spoke up, a hint of her old fire back in her voice. “The Council and the Assemblage will most certainly have to address it, especially if the Ama Darav family puts pressure on the Provincial Governor. Aren’t they related by marriage to your sister’s husband’s family?”

“To my cousin Tael’s husband, they are,” Jaal confirmed. “I will speak with my mothers about it. Certainly the family has taken Sara in as one of us.”

“Use that,” the Moshae said, her voice getting stronger. “Sara must gain citizenship if you are to protect her from Akksul.”

He nodded at his former mentor, but a wave of sadness washed over him. He wasn’t entirely sure she was giving him advice for his and Sara’s sake, or Akksul’s. And the thought was crushing.

Scott ended the vidcall with the press of a button. “That went well.”

Jaal just glanced at him, and the human visibly flinched. He realized after a moment that he had misread Jaal’s guarded expression for anger, and the angara turn to face him more openly.

“I’m not angry,” he explained. “Just… weary.”

Scott ran a hand through his short hair -- the same color as his sister’s. They looked remarkably alike, although he still had trouble telling some humans apart. But they were twins, there was no mistaking that. Even from the way their eyes flicked as they were thinking about what to say, or how they rocked on the balls of their feet when they were excited about something.

“Look… Jaal. I know we don’t know each other very well. But we both love Sara, and I think we both will do whatever it takes to keep her safe. And the twins, too. I’d like us to be friends. And to trust each other.” He offered Jaal his hand.

It was all Jaal could to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Scott asked, sounding a little hurt.

“You sister did the same thing when we first met,” he explained, grinning at him. And he took Scott’s wrist the same way he did Sara’s so long ago, correctly positioning it before laying his arm against it.

“We’re family now, Scott,” Jaal said. “And angara take that seriously.”

“I think it’s a good idea,” Lexi said as Sara lay down on the medbay bed.

“Of course you do -- so you can monitor me all the time.”

“Yes,” the asari said, “but I also think it’s good for you, Sara.” She pulled Sara’s shirt up, revealing her rounding belly in all its glory. “The Tempest is your home.”

“I just… wanted Havarl to be, too.”

“It can be, one day,” Lexi soothed, putting her hands on Sara’s belly and beginning to feel. She measured from public bone to the top of her belly -- the fundal height, she told Sara -- and said she was measuring well.

“Besides, we’re hoping it will give the marriage legitimacy,” she said. “There are… political benefits, too.”

“Wouldn’t actually living with your husband do the same?” Lexi deadpanned.

“Well… I don’t know. Maybe.”

“And you are Pathfinder. They can’t exactly expect you to give that up, legitimate or not. Pregnant or not.”

“Weren’t all of you telling me that I shouldn’t be doing a Pathfinder’s work anymore?”

“Well, certainly not the getting shot at part,” Lexi said, sighing and starting a full body scan. “Your levels look good. Iron’s a bit off… SAM, please bring up the comparison stats for angara. Looks like it’s within range for both species, although I think you need to add more iron-rich foods to your diet.”

Sara groaned. “I’m already eating enough, doc.”

“Just add some more spinach to your morning breakfast shakes,” she teased. “Has the nausea passed?”

“Mostly, but -- ” the rest of her sentence died on her lips. There was something… something different. A fluttered feeling, in her stomach, but lower. Like a butterfly caught in a net. “Oh.”

“What?” Lexi asked sharply, turning her attention back to Sara.

“I-I think… I think I felt them.” Her voice was a choked whisper, eyes wide. She felt like vomiting.

“Let’s see what they’re up to,” Lexi said, bringing up a scan of Sara’s womb. Two tiny figures appeared in 3-D in a holo. It shocked Sara to see them.

They weren’t human. They looked far more angara than that. But they didn’t look like angara either. Sara covered her open mouth in shock.

“It’s alright, Sara,” Lexi soothed. “They actually look a lot like the scans of angara fetuses I’ve seen.” The doctor looked amused at her, and Sara flushed with heat. Tears stung in her eyes. How could she laugh at her like this? So much worry came crashing out at once, releasing as angry tears.

Lexi was taken aback. “Oh, Sara, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” She went immediately to Sara’s side and wrapped her arms around the woman’s shoulders. “I apologize. I should have been more sensitive about your worries. But just from glancing at the scan, they look fairly normal, Sara. I still need to do an in depth anatomical scan, but I think they have a chance.”

That only made Sara cry harder, and curse the pregnancy hormones. Exasperated. Lexi asked SAM to call Jaal to the medbay to calm Sara down, only to get a reply that he was in a vidcom call and couldn’t come at the moment.

She called Suvi instead, who brought three mugs of steaming tea and a blanket for Sara, which the women wrapped her in.

“I’m sure Jaal will come when he can,” Suvi said in her soothing brogue. “Meanwhile, do you mind if I be in here Sara? I don’t want to impose, but -- ”

“It’s fine,” Sara replied, sighing as she finished her tea. “It’s the least I can do for you sharing your tea with us.”

“I never studied much biology,” Suvi said, sitting next to Sara and holding her hand. “But, oh, what miracles these wee things are.”

Lexi started up the scan again, and Sara’s heart lurched. She gave Suvi’s hand a squeeze, and the other gave her one in return.

The legs were digitigrade, curled up against their bellies. Tiny fists were curled up in little balls at the end of thin, tiny arms. Sara could see that their hoods were starting to develop, though they would only really develop after birth, she was told.

“Fraternal twins,” Lexi said.

“Like Scott and I,” Sara said, blinking back tears. One of the twins stretched out their legs, and Sara could actually feel it as she watched it happen. It was amazing.

Lexi began to measure on the scan, taking images and making notes on each.

“Everything okay?” Sara asked nervously.

“I’m not seeing any major defects, but I am still somewhat unfamiliar with angaran fetal development. I am working with several colleague within the Initiative as well as the Angaran government on your pregnancy. When we’ve discussed the scans, we’ll know more.” She looked at Sara, and sighed. “I don’t want to give you false hope, Sara. There could be something I’m not seeing.”

“But right now, there is still hope?”

“Yes,” Lexi said, smiling softly. “There is still hope.”

The medbay door slid open, and Jaal stalked through. “I am sorry I didn’t come...” his voice trailed off when he saw the holo image of the twins in Sara’s womb. Transfixed, he stepped closer, mouth slightly ajar.

“Those are…?”

“I’m sorry we started without you, Jaal,” Lexi said. “But I really needed to get this scans off to Aya and the Nexus to get them back at any reasonable time.”

He broke off to fix Lexi with his stare. “Those are my children,” he said plainly.

“Here, Jaal,” Suvi pipped up, wanting to break the sudden tension. “Come take my place.” She scrambled out of the way, dropping Sara’s hand. “Sara just needed a little moral support while you were busy.”

Wordlessly, Jaal went to his wife’s side, taking her hand and smoothing back her hair.

“Do you want to know the genders?” Lexi added, trying to lighten the mood.

“No -- ”

“Yes -- ”

“Ah,” Sara said, flushing. “You don’t want to know?”

“You do?” Jaal returned.

“I -- yes, I do. You know, so we can pick out names and get clothes ready.”

Jaal sighed. He sounded so… tired. “If it makes you happy, dearest. I only care if they are healthy.”

Lexi looked to Sara.

“I’ll… hold off on it, doc. Just for now. Maybe when you get the results back we can find out to celebrate.”

“Sounds like a good plan to me,” the asari said. She resumed her notations, and Sara watch Jaal’s face as he studied the holo.

“Do they look… normal?” she asked timidly.

“I… haven’t seen many fetal scans. They are considered very private, Sara.”

“Oh. Humans love to share theirs. I always thought they looked like al-- uh, like little demons or something.”

Jaal gave her a bemused look. “Don’t go showing them around Aya. Although Sahuna will probably ask to see them, in a roundabout fashion.”

“Do angara share the scans with their family?”

“It depends on their bond. Do you share your very personal, intimate details with your brother?”

“Not… all of them,” Sara said, making a face.

“And there is your answer.” He still chuckled at her. She sighed, starting to relax despite herself. Somehow, he always made her feel safe. When they had first met, he could be prickly and sarcastic, but even when his words were the same, his tone of voice was never mocking. She felt she could be the most honest person she was with him.

Lexi was very thorough with her scan, but Sara didn’t complain. She didn’t want a single thing missed, either. When she was finally allowed up off the bed, she had to pause a moment. Tenderly, she took Jaal’s massive hand in hers and pressed it firmly to her belly, just in time to catch the end of a large flutter of movement: the twins protesting at Mama changing position so quickly.

The grin that spread across Jaal’s face was indescribable. He pulled her into his arms, cradling her tenderly. Only Sara’s protests of needing the bathroom in a hurry made him let go.

#jaal x sara ryder #jaal ama darav #rydarav #mass effect andromeda #sara ryder #whats bred in the bone

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wendynerdwrites · 8 years ago

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Recovered Jonsa fics #2: Sansa’s Silent Treatment

Still reposting/restoring fic from my deleted blog!

Prompt: Sansa is jealous when Jon pays attention to other females so she gives him the silent treatment. He cannot understand why she is mad at him and it drives him nuts.

There is chatter and delight running throughout the queen’s ballroom as the court feasts on wild boar, baked apples, strawberries, spinach, and a variety of fine dishes and wines. Jon sits, content and happy, listening with rapt attention as Asha Greyjoy regales the main table with tales of her travels. Every so often, Obella and Loreza Sand contribute little anecdotes of their late father whenever Asha mentions a place the Red Viper had been. Arya occasionally interjects with a story about Dorne.

Jon is happy, despite his extravagant surroundings. He rarely feels this good at formal events, but this one pleases him. It’s his Name Day, so he is permitted to dispense with most of the formal seating arrangements that his wife has to usually plan meticulously to suit the current political climate. Instead of being surrounded by pretentious, grasping lords, the main table is stocked with his favorites: Asha Greyjoy, his wards Obella and Loreza, Arya, Sam, Ned Dayne, Brienne of Tarth, Tristopher Swann, Wylla Manderly Tyrell, Mya Stone, Myranda Royce, Satin Flowers, Gendry of the High Hill, Alysanne and Lyra Mormont, Meera Reed, and Patrek Mallister. Arya, who was usually seated to Sansa’s right, gets to sit to his left: the place usually reserved for his Hand, Willas Tyrell, who is down the table a bit, next to his wife, Wylla. The only one in her usual place is Sansa, to Jon’s right, who sits and eats quietly. Every so often, Jon leans over to his queen, pressing a happy hand to her swollen belly, and inquires as to whether or not she is feeling alright. Thus far, she has nodded each time.

Jon does feel a little guilty, though. Since Sansa first conceived, he has remained in the city, usually staying in the Red Keep itself. He is obsessive about keeping her close, keeping her safe, keeping her healthy, keeping her comfortable. He has brought in two maesters to assist Grand Maester Durin, four top midwives, including one from Braavos who had attended the Sealord’s wife through no less than seven successful pregnancies and births, and three septas. He has yet to go a night without massaging his wife’s ankles and back. Arya jokingly calls him “the nursemaid.” Even Bran and Rickon, in their letters, have taken to calling him this.

Jon doesn’t mind. He would rather be a nursemaid than neglect his wife. He still winces with guilt whenever he has to hold her hair, or she grimaces from her aching back, or looks weary, or experiences any other form of pain or discomfort related to her condition. Not that the pregnancy has been nothing but pain, but it hasn’t been bouyant, and there was more pain and risk to come.

But for his name day, his wife encouraged him to spend some time with friends, so he has taken three days spending more and more time outside the castle, including a sail around Blackwater Bay with the newest ship in the royal fleet, and culminating in today’s hunt. He could not help but feel some euphoria about spending so much time in the woods, bow and blade in hand. He is still a creature of the wilderness, north or south, and it had felt so stifling and unnatural to spend so much time indoors. He enjoyed this hunt, perhaps more than he should.

But he is with her now, and though he was not the one to ultimately slay the beast, he feels proud of being able to bring this hearty creature home and feed it to his wife and unborn child. And she is eating: after three months of illness, she is eating constantly. He loves it.

Asha Greyjoy begins telling a tale of the carnal conquests of some of her lustier crewmen when Patrek Mallister, well into his cups, calls out, “Sounds like he has a king’s appetite for female company!”

Most of the table laughs, and Jon raises one eyebrow. There had been ribbing all day about the amount of ladies in his personal hunting party. “I have an appetite for fine company!”

More laughter, and Asha eagerly continues her tale. A short while later, she is interrupted by the sound of someone tapping their cup with a fork. Everyone quiets and looks over to the source of the sound.

Garlan Tyrell rises from his seat at the second table, straightening his doublet and clearing his throat. “A toast, to our most valiant and talent King Jon, for providing us with such a bountiful meal!”

There are many “hear hear”’s, but Jon feels compelled to speak up once the toast is made. “I thank you, Ser Garlan, but I must admit, credit for slaying the boar must go to Lady Greyjoy. It was her arrow that found its mark! To Lady Greyjoy! Terror of the seas and the kingswood alike!”

“LADY GREYJOY!” The crowd echoes. Jon smiles at his vassal, who looks proud as a peacock.

Jon left the banquet, pleased and weary, and a little in his cups. He holds Sansa close as they returned to their bedchamber, stealing kisses to her cheek and hair every so often. When the door closes behind them, she turns to him, and he cups her cheek, looking into her big, blue eyes.

“Did you enjoy yourself today, Jon?”

“Yes, thank you,” he says, smiling at her hazily. “You are so… You are my queen.”

Even now, after over a year of marriage, he still cannot believe she’s his.Every so often, he has these moments where he’s almost paralyzed by awe.

“And you are my king,” she replies softly, reaching downwards to his breeches, “Would my king like his queen to do her duty?”

“Mmmm…” He pulls her close into an embrace, eager to bury his face in that red hair. “I’m tired. I’d rather just…”

She pulls away. “As you wish, My Lord. But I must prepare for bed.”

Before he can offer to help her undress, she calls in her maid. Jon sighs and quietly strips down to his tunic and smallclothes and crawls into bed, waiting for his wife to join him. But he dozes off before she does.

When he wakes, she still sleeps, and he spends some time just watching her until finally calling for his steward and manservant. The Mormont sisters need to have an early morning meeting, and Jon reluctantly pulls himself away. After that, it’s surveying the new updates of the Royal Fleet with Asha Greyjoy at the harbor, whom he ultimately asks to take lunch with him, Arya, and Meera Reed.

It’s not until he holds the afternoon court that he sees his wife, who seems preoccupied. He doesn’t have time to ask her what is bothering her before the petitions begin. Throughout the session, his queen offers an unusually high number of interjections, even openly disagreeing with him twice. While Jon isn’t displeased, he is surprised. He takes no issue with his queen contradicting him in public, indeed, he outright encourages it whenever necessary. But it is Sansa who usually protests this. She thinks it is inappropriate to do so publicly, that she should reserve her contrary opinions to private or semi-private discussions. Indeed, she is usually adamant about this.

Jon, however, can imagine why she might break her rule about it: normally, before court sessions, they meet together for a preliminary meeting to go over the scheduled petitions--- which is usually where his wife voices her positions. When they were wed, Jon asked his wife to help him rule, to be his partner. She has taken this request in earnest, though she prefers to keep this somewhat private. She considers them both better off if she plays the role of a more traditional consort when not behind closed doors, and her prior years in the capital have taught her to keep her views and activities as opaque as possible. But as devoted as Sansa is to image, she is even more devoted to duty. Her husband asked her to rule with him, and she will. She’d not gotten to voice her feelings in private today, so this was her only option. Still, Jon feels guilty. He should have taken lunch with her to go over things before court.

After court is complete, the Small Council meets, where he and his Mistress of Ships go over the development of the royal fleet. He beams as he and Lady Greyjoy recount the progress, proud of their work. After the meeting, he hangs back to thank Asha again for her work. Once he has done so, he turns around, expecting to see his wife and Mistress of Laws waiting for him by the door, as was her habit. But oddly, she is gone.

Jon’s stomach sinks. He’d wanted to take a walk with her in the gardens before supper. But he shrugs and heads for the training yard instead. He returns before supper, muddy and laughing. He and Arya had taken turns putting one another on their backs.

In the bedchamber, he finds his wife on the bed, having her maid massage her ankles. Jon is surprised--- usually that is his duty. He walks over to kiss her cheek, but she pulls away, reaching into her skirts and handing him a handkerchief. He blushes. He’s covered in sweat and mud. He wipes his face, then goes in for another kiss. Sansa stays perfectly still, and barely responds.

Deardra, the maid, speaks up, “Your Grace, perhaps you should have a bath and a change before supper?” “Erm, yes, call my manservant in,” he says awkwardly, eyeing Sansa with confusion. She doesn’t look at him. Deardre hurries out, and Jon speaks to his wife.

“Are you well, Madam?”

Sansa responds by turning on her side and hugging her belly. A no.

Jon stares at her, thoroughly confused. “What’s wrong? Did I do something?”

If it were not Sansa, Jon would have described the noise she makes as a grunt. But Sansa does not grunt. She does, however, make an indignant throat noise.

“What is wrong?” He asks again, reaching out to her. She turns her head and glares. Jon realizes, to his horror, that this is one of those cases where his wife feels he should realize his error on his own, without her having to tell him.

These situations don’t occur often, but when they do, it is the worst, for three reasons: 1) He never manages to figure it out nor fix it until after she finally breaks down and tells him; 2) It’s something big and offensive enough for Sansa to consider it obvious; and 3) Once she has divulged her grievance, it’s usually something that seems obvious once spoken, and he always feels like awful for not figuring it out.

“Sansa, please tell me. I cannot fix it if I don’t know.”

She turns away again. He sighs.

“Will you be taking supper with me?”

She shakes her head. He sighs again.

“Very well.”

His bath and changing is awkward, as is his good-bye to his wife when he leaves for supper. He sends an invite to Asha, Meera, Sam, and Arya to join him for supper in his private dining room. It’s a quarter hour into their roast duck that Arya finally asks, “Alright, Jon, what’s wrong?”

He reddens. “Nothing.”

“Liar.” Arya says. Jon doesn’t answer. Their other dinner companions exchange glances, finish their food quickly, and excuse themselves. Arya orders the servants to take their food away, and, once the room is empty of all but the two of them, she speaks.

“Sansa’s not ill, is she?” Arya asks, looking concerned.

“I don’t think so. Not that she’d tell me is she was,” Jon replies resentfully, “She isn’t speaking to me.” “Ah.” Arya sits back in her chair, appraising him. “And you don’t know why.”

“How can I know why if she won’t tell me?!” The king stands and starts pacing. “I know it must be something serious, if she’s this upset. Usually she tells me things!”

“Of course. She knows you’ll listen. Like Ser Patrek so insightfully remarked last night, you enjoy the company of women.”

“Right, I’m not the sort to expect women to be silent! So why won’t she just tell me what is wrong?!”

At this, Arya rolls her eyes and scoffs.. “Jon, you are so dense sometimes!”

Oh gods, not her too. If Arya was pulling this as well, then it had to be bad. “What is it, then?”

“Ugh!” Arya stands. “Why don’t you ask Asha Greyjoy?”

Jon gets to his feet. “Maybe I will!” It seemed Lady Greyjoy was the only person willing to make sense today. He walks off, angry. Arya was supposed to be on his side. She was always on his side.

He goes back to his chambers, and Sansa is asleep. He gets into bed, but doesn’t sleep.

Why doesn’t he ask Asha Greyjoy? She was a woman. And she was one of the more level-headed people he knew. And she was Ironborn, and as frank about things as any Ironborn could be. She wasn’t particularly close with Sansa, but there seemed to be a certain… understanding… all women seemed to have. So he invites Lady Greyjoy to take breakfast with him in his privy chamber.

Asha arrives, oddly enough, with two of her men, looking a bit uncomfortable. Jon blushes. “Um, Lady Greyjoy, I had hoped to dine with you alone, to discuss a personal matter.”

“I do not think that wise, Your Grace.”

And that’s when it hits him.

He rises from his seat, nearly knocking over his plate of poached eggs and venison sausage, horrified.

“Deepest apologies, Lady Greyjoy, but something has… I need to attend to something at once. I’m so sorry!” He bows deeply ---- he doesn’t want to displease his wife any more by being discourteous to a vassal, even who… Jon rushes back to the bedchamber.

Sansa isn’t there. He heads for her privy chamber, desperate to speak to her. He is about to have himself announced when he hears a shout. It’s Arya. “Shut up, Margaery!”

Glancing awkwardly at the guard at her door, Jon humbles himself by pressing his ear to it, like a sneaky child.

“Arya please!” Sansa says, her voice strangled.

“No, I’m sick of this horseshit! Jon is an idiot, but he would never do such a thing! And either way, Sansa shouldn’t just sit by and take it!”

“Lady Arya,” Margaery Tyrell says, her voice condescending and firm, “I realize you are not prone to courtly pursuits, but you must understand that I am merely giving your sister the best advice I can. Men, even good men, are men. This sort of thing is common, especially with kings, and especially during periods where their wives are in Her Grace’s condition. It’s to be both expected and accepted, if one does not wish to be miserable. There’s nothing Her Grace can do about him sharing another’s bed. But what she can control is whether or not these women end up being passing fancies or her husband’s confidantes. If she is kind and sweet and forgiving, the king will always end up coming home to her, seeking out her and her alone for support, confidence, and advice. He’ll even feel more guilty about betraying his ever-lovely wife, and be more malleable as a result. If you are harsh, abrasive, and resentful, he’ll seek out women for more than just pleasure, but for comfort and solace. He will tell them things, he will become intimate with them on a level beyond the physical, and he will prefer their company to the queen’s. She will spend more time alone, and create true rivals, by being abrasive than if she turns a blind eye.”

“You don’t know anything about Jon! He’s not some Lannister or Baratheon, not some southern ponce! He was raised by our father, who was always loyal to our mother!”

“Don’t be so sure of that. Just because King Jon wasn’t truly a bastard doesn’t mean---”

“---Don’t say another word, Margaery!” This time it was Sansa who interrupted, her voice wrung with fury that Jon currently shared. Margaery Tyrell was never his favorite person, but he never loathed her. At the moment, however, he does. How dare she?

“Apologies, Your Grace. I did not mean to besmirch your father’s good name.” The Tyrell woman has the decency to sound chastened.

“What do you think, Myranda?” Sansa asks.

“I think men are men, and their eyes will wander. But that their cocks don’t always catch up. Our king is a good man, and while he might be tempted, that doesn’t mean he’s acted on it--- yet. I think you can, and should, nip it in the bud.”

“And if he has strayed already?”

“My advice is the same. Make sure it doesn’t become a habit. But maybe…”

“What?”

Myranda sighs. “...Maybe try guilt instead of anger. Shed some pretty tears, bemoan your broken heart, make him hate himself. Men have a way of feeling justified about things women get angry at them for. Margaery isn’t entirely wrong.”

“If that doesn’t work, I’ll geld him!” Mya Stone offers cheerily. At this, the room laughs, even Sansa.

Having heard enough, Jon walks away, determined. He goes to his privy chamber, tells his steward to cancel everything except court that day, gives special instructions for the kitchens, and sends word for his wife to meet him on the balcony outside their bedchamber.

He receives her for lunch with a table laden with flowers, fresh trout, sweet lemongrass salad, peach preserves, lemoncakes, arbor gold… all of her favorite things. He dresses in a doublet she made him of red velvet, the one she likes the most. When she arrives, he helps her into her chair and pours her wine himself. It’s only when he’s seated that he speaks.

“I’m so sorry. Nothing has happened, I swear it. I’ve not touched another woman since Ygritte, I swear it upon the Old Gods and New. Upon the grave of Eddard Stark. Upon our child’s life.”

Her breath catches at this. And, to his horror, she bursts into tears. He panics. This was supposed to make her feel better.

Sansa instantly reaches into her skirts for a handkerchief and tries to dry her eyes. “I’m terrible! I never should have doubted you! I just…”

“What?”

“It… It wasn’t just that I thought you might have been unfaithful. It was that others might think so. Others might doubt me, doubt us. Even if you hadn’t done a thing, it would seem that I was dishonored, and people would try to take advantage of that.”

Jon swallowed heavily. “I know.” He did, too. He knew what she meant. Word gets around that the king has strayed, and people start taking the queen less seriously, start propping out their bonny daughter to catch their liege’s eye. Since taking the throne, Sansa had helped him grow accustomed to his new role, instructing him on certain aspects of court life. This happened even before they were formally betrothed. And indeed, her early counsel had been one of the reasons he’d married her. She’d explained this aspect of court life before she was ever his designated bride. “I should have… But I never thought---”

“You are so often surrounded by women. Women who are strong and brave and wild and fierce. Who wield blades, who are warriors. Women who have the sorts of adventures and pursuits you have. Who aren’t anything like me.”

His stomach sinks. “That doesn’t mean I love you any less, or would have you any other way, Sansa. You are all I want. I just…”

“... I know! You have friends who share your interests, and you don’t care if someone is male or female. I love that about you. But I can’t help but look at them and think of all the things they share with you that I don’t. I can’t help but look at them and wonder if you wish you had one of them instead of me.” She buries her face in her handkerchief.

Jon gets up and hurries to her. He pulls her hands away, holds onto them, and looks into her eyes. “Sansa, if I had one of them, who would I go to when I need the fighting to end? How would I have a life without the monotony of everything being the same all at once? How would I remember that there is life beyond a battlefield? You are all I could ever want, Sansa. The only wife, only lover I want. I have you, and I’m a eunuch to every other women I meet. Sometimes, I can’t even believe you are mine. That I get to be yours. And if anyone doubts that, I will do whatever I can to show them how wrong they are. Just please, if I ever act inappropriately, tell me. Margaery Tyrell can go hang.”

There is a pause. The look of delight that came over Sansa’s face as he spoke slowly turns to suspicion. “Wait, how do you know what Margaery said to me?”

He freezes. “Oh, I…” Seven Hells.

She clutches the bridge of her nose between two fingers, her eyes shut in consternation. “For pity’s sake, Jon!”

“Well! You weren’t telling me what was wrong! I needed to know somehow!”

At this, she starts laughing. She clutches his face and kissed him. “Alright, Husband. I will tell you next time. And you won’t eavesdrop.”

He smiles then, and gives her another kiss. “Alright. And I meant what I said. Margaery Tyrell can hang. I hope you won’t take her seriously.”

“Well, she wasn’t entirely without cause. Many kings have strayed, especially when their queens have… this...” She gestures to her belly.

Jon lowers his head and mouth. “Well, I love this.” He kisses her belly, his blood suddenly heated. “I could spend an eternity worshipping this, and every other inch of you. Would you like me to prove it?”

A smile creeps across her face. “We can’t afford an eternity, but…” She glances over her shoulder to make sure no one was around to see, then starts lifting her skirts, her reddened eyes now flashing. “Let’s see how much you can manage between now and court.”

“Out here?” He asks teasingly. “My Lady!”

“Out here, and in there.” She points behind her to the door to their bedchamber, grinning lasciviously.

#jonsa #jon x sansa #fic repost project #repost #long post

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