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kiruuuuu · 5 years ago

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Doc/Lion oneshot in which Lion can’t keep his fingers off Doc, and Doc can’t keep his feet off Lion ;) (Rating E, pure PWP, ~4.3k words) - written for @icezero09!! Thank you again for commissioning me, I’m always stoked to be able to write for you :) Your prompts are a real treat 💖💖

Doc never looks more enticing than after a long day. There’s just – there’s something in his features, a softness where others might look haggard, and it must be his love for the job, his endeavours to help and protect his colleagues, his friends, the general populace. Instead of allowing the everyday stress to wear him down, he often takes moments to remind himself of the good he’s doing. The good he’s done. And so, his slightly sluggish movements carry a gentle quality, his rare smiles are full of gratitude and his aura one of grace, poise, even dignity. He relishes his time to himself, prefers drinking coffee or tea and reading over de-stressing with others, stretched out on the bed, bedside lamp casting warm shadows.

Lion stares at this beautiful man and all he wants to do is fuck him until he screams.

Listen.

He’s drawn to competence and authority already, and encountered a few nearly embarrassing moments when he and Doc were still at odds – the other Frenchman hissed a sharp command and Lion’s first instinct was to roll over, present his belly. Doc is overflowing with life experience and knowledge, and paired with his regular no-nonsense attitude, he’s so perfectly Lion’s type that if he were asked to describe his ideal husband, all he’d do is point at the other man. He oozes attractiveness in a way it makes Lion’s brain short-circuit, and it does things to other parts of his body he has trouble hiding more often than not.

It might be his lower brain speaking right now, however. The same brain which takes note of the sliver of skin visible between Doc’s boxers and his loose shirt, allowing for a few salt and pepper hairs to peek through, the brain which pays close attention to long legs and beautiful fingers, to the juicy-looking bulge, the prominent nose and the fierce scowl -

“No”, says Doc not for the first time.

“Please”, replies Lion, also not for the first time. His breathy pleas have turned into petulant whines but he doesn’t care – all he can focus on is Doc, Doc, in the perfect position to squirm around Lion kneeling between his legs, or maybe swallow Lion’s cock lazily while pretending to read, or get edged to oblivion and back, sweat beading up on his forehead and desperation rising -

“I’m tired. We can do it tomorrow, Olivier.”

He might as well postpone it to the next century. Need has replaced all the blood in Lion’s body, thrumming through his veins and setting him alight for no other reason than Doc being here, in front of him, waiting for Lion to shatter his composure in the most elating way. So far, he hasn’t even touched the object of his desire, merely kneeled down next to him on the mattress, bathing in his lover’s presence; but his body betrays his thoughts. His large erection is painfully visible in his underwear, straining to be set free, twitching now and then, whenever Lion briefly obsesses about one of the things he wants to do to Doc. “Please, Gustave”, he whispers, full of emotion.

It strikes a chord. Doc pauses, book sinking, frown softening. No victory yet, but he’s got his attention. When an attentive and appreciative gaze rakes over Lion’s mostly bare form, he stiffens, holds his breath, allows for his lover to take him all in and judge him – it’s something he found terrifying in the beginning and oddly reassuring now: Doc seems to constantly re-evaluate him and always decides he’s worth it. “Tomorrow”, his lover echoes, sounding weaker than before. He must’ve seen something he liked.

On instinct, Lion sways towards him, following breadcrumbs in the shape of an unconscious lip bite, a gaze flitting to and fro, dropping down to his boner repeatedly. He’s stopped by a foot on his naked chest, a warm sole obstructing him. He breathes against it, makes it rise in time with his inhales, and tentatively brushes over the calf with his fingertips.

They’re staring at each other, hypnotised. The air thickens around them, plump with implications and silent dares.

Doc indubitably meant it as a sign to leave him alone, but when Lion’s dick jumps once more, he seems to understand he’s achieving the exact opposite. His foot twitches, then wanders upwards. “You’re so needy, Olivier.” His voice is low and full of hesitant promises.

The slide of skin on skin drastically increases the temperature in the room. “I am”, he confirms quietly and tilts his head towards the questing limb. Their eyes are glued to each other and neither of them blinks; for once, Lion feels like the prey and not the predator. He’s not surprised he likes it, not when Doc fixes him with a look this intense.

“If I let you, you’d fuck me all night.” A toe drags down Lion’s lower lip and his breath hitches. “Every night.”

He’s never been this fucking aroused in his entire life. “I would”, he agrees and closes his lips around Doc’s big toe. The embers glowing brighter and brighter in coffee brown eyes now ignite with a flash, rising and rising the longer Lion sucks without breaking eye contact. He’s got him now. He sees Doc’s boxers swell in his peripheral vision.

“You’re indecent.” It’s not an insult. Doc pulls his foot free and travels back down, his wet skin leaving behind a cool trace doing nothing to calm the roaring inside Lion. “Utterly obscene.”

The moment Lion feels pressure against his rock hard cock, his eyelids flutter powerlessly. He resists the urge to falter, to fold, and remains perfectly upright despite the foot exploring his crotch roughly, yet his face heats up even more. It’s a mixture of normal stimulation and feeling stepped on, which is thrilling in its almost-humiliation, but since it’s Doc, there’s a warm security behind it too. Doc loves him. And right now, he’s in charge for once. Lion’s lips part in preparation of a moan which never comes, because when toes finally rub over his cockhead, the resulting desire exploding outwards closes up his throat.

Doc is electric and electrifying, even the lightest touch causes muscles to tense and passion to skyrocket – he contours Lion’s balls with the back of his foot, then drags the heel over his aching erection and elicits half-strangled gasps of disbelief. Lion wants him so much and yet is frozen in the moment, held at bay by the promise of more teasing. “You like this.” Not a question. Doc seems gleeful, filled with delight over having discovered something about Lion all by himself, something of which he likely wasn’t aware himself or else he would’ve divulged it readily, hoping for Doc to exploit his knowledge.

And he’s correct. Lion never knew how fucking sexy being touched like this could be, but he’s beginning to suspect that anything Doc does to him is the epitome of desirable as long as Lion’s in the mood. And is he ever.

“Please”, he repeats, the phrase empty but the intention clear as day. He needs more.

Displaying a smug smile, Doc discards the book fully and settles in more comfortably in the cushions, all without moving the leg connecting him to Lion. “What am I supposed to do with you, Olivier?”, he mutters, self-satisfied, and rubs over the entire length of Lion’s cock, making him shudder. He looks like a benevolent monarch, regal in his generosity, curious gaze leaving burning hot trails on Lion’s skin.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous”, he can’t help but choke out and Doc’s cool façade breaks to reveal a bright, genuine smile. Once again, the atmosphere shifts, Doc gives up some of his power despite still being mostly in control, and Lion understands they’re on one page now. They both want satisfaction. He’s already planning ahead, wondering in which position he should take Doc, how long he’ll spoil him before burying himself deep, and he can already see this helpless, devoted expression Doc always gets when he’s being invaded, so full of wonder and -

“Can you get off like this?”

His thoughts screech to a halt when his glans slips between Doc’s big toe and the second one. The sound he produces is ungraceful but Doc’s interest is piqued nonetheless – he massages his lover’s shaft with his sole, pressing down on all the right spots and, well, Lion figures the answer to his question is a resounding yes. He can basically feel the precum oozing out.

“Take off your underwear.”

The brief respite he gets while shedding the last piece of clothing does nothing to calm his blazing need, not when Doc mirrors him and reveals his own swollen cock, resting heavy on his belly and calling to Lion. He wants to taste it, touch it, worship it, but when he reaches out, he’s stopped by a playful: “Don’t touch me.” So he sits back, almost drooling, and eyes Doc’s nearly naked form longingly. His shirt rode up even more, putting his toned abdomen on display, and Lion would sacrifice a few fingers to be able to swirl his tongue through Doc’s navel right now.

When his lover grabs the lube from the nightstand, Lion experiences an almost Pavlovian reaction: lust shoots through him, white hot and blinding and all he can think about is how he’ll sink into delicious heat soon. He barely manages to get out a quiet yes before noticing Doc’s lifted eyebrow. Seems like it won’t be that easy after all.

“Needy”, Doc repeats and returns his foot, touching the tip of his toe to the glistening head quietly leaking in neglect and alright, they’re back to this – not that Lion is complaining, finally there’s skin on skin contact and the way his foreskin rolls over all the sensitive spots is addicting, but he still hasn’t taken his eyes off Doc’s proud erection. Testament of his attraction to Lion. It’s this thick and dark only because of him, only because he’s letting Doc give him a footjob and loving it.

Finally, he picks up on the expectant air around the other Frenchman and it clicks. So they’re playing a game today. “I’m a horny dog”, he breathes, voice breaking when the pressure increases to an almost unbearable level just for a second. “I should be punished.”

Doc’s grin is brilliant. “You should”, he concurs and spreads his legs. Fucking Christ. Lion’s gaze is glued to the entrance now visible, taunting, inviting. He can’t reach out and brush his fingertips over the rim, can’t lie down to lick over it like a kitten, can’t glide inside to unload deep, deep inside Doc – but he wants to. Dear God does he want to.

“Please, Gustave.” He’s a broken record at this point. Hips are starting to move, pushing back against the warm limb slowly driving him insane, seeking to increase the friction, wring every bit of pleasure out of the sensation he can, and the result is better, a lot better, but not good enough. His breath is stuttery and the small thrusts aborted; he’s trying hard to hold himself back.

“Is this what you want?” Doc reaches down and pulls a cheek apart, exposing himself even more obscenely and fucking hell, he’s cocky. Lion isn’t sure where Doc got this sudden boost of confidence but it’s blisteringly hot to see him sprawl like this, put himself on a silver platter. He does look delicious. Lion wants to devour him whole. “Hm? Is this it?”

A thumb touches the pink hole which pulses in return, constricts, and Lion can feel it around the base of his cock, the phantom sensation impossibly strong as his hips strain forwards against the unwavering resistance. “Yes. Fuck yes.” Words largely elude him over the sensual sight right before his nose.

And then he has to watch, frozen in disbelief, as Doc pours lube over his own fingers before returning them to their previous place; and with Lion staring, open-mouthed, Doc rubs over the rim slowly, coating it, and eventually pushes one digit inside.

Lion’s brain malfunctions.

This is too much to handle, Doc is too much to handle, and he just can’t. Following a moan, a muffled, despairing sound, Lion wraps a hand around Doc’s calf and keeps it in place as he thrusts his entire length along the soft sole, never once taking his eyes off the finger pushing in and out steadily. He needs this stimulation and so he takes it for himself, humps Doc’s foot like a drowning man and whimpers when the toes curl around his glans on every upstroke. The lazy smile on his true love’s face, the way Doc’s body accommodates all, his own finger and Lion’s sudden outburst, it’s exhilarating.

“Slow down”, Doc requests gently. “You’re meant to enjoy this.” But it’s impossible, how can he expect Lion not to run wild when he adds another finger so casually as if he’s used to it – and he can’t be, not like this, not when Lion insists on being the one to prepare him every time they have sex. He relishes in the noises he tickles out of his significant other, works him open with patience and adoration each time, teases and rubs and thrusts until Doc is red-faced from the effort of holding still, from slight embarrassment and love and anticipation. Doc is used to Lion’s fingers, not his own, so how can he smirk like the cat that ate the cream when he’s -

Doc moans, cock twitching.

And Lion fucking loses it.

He wasn’t even aware of how his pleasure spiked the moment Doc started fingering himself, didn’t really notice how fucking primed and ready he was, how affected by the consistent teasing – and if he’s honest, he doubted that a foot alone would turn him on this much. But the friction was delectable, and paired with the shapely leg attached to it, the entirety that is Doc lounging on the mattress, all honeyed words and fiery looks, it was entirely too much.

With a high-pitched whine, he zooms past the point of no return before he realises what’s happening and when he does, he’s horrified. He’s not going to shoot inside Doc if he comes now, he’ll just ejaculate all over his leg and shit, that’s embarrassing really. Scrambling to stop the process, he pushes the offending foot away, ceases all stimulation trying to prevent his climax, but it’s too late.

Or is it?

Because all that happens is his cock pulsing and sperm leaking out weakly, so instead of the usual fountain it’s nothing more than a sad dribble down his shaft as he shakes from suppressed need – it flows over his balls and drips down right onto Doc’s foot.

“I’m sorry”, Lion mutters, not only for the shitty orgasm but also for making a mess, and he wants to continue by offering compensation when Doc rumbles: “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

And this is when Lion realises that he’s still painfully hard. That his lust hasn’t disappeared. He raises his gaze to meet Doc’s and is shocked at its intensity, amazed when he sees his lover reflect the same amount of desire he’s projecting. They still want the same thing, if Doc’s scissoring fingers are anything to go by, but Lion feels raw and overstimulated after the not-quite orgasm, so he does the first thing that comes to mind.

He begins licking Doc’s foot clean. Simply raises it to his face, noting as his lover’s stormy eyes darken, and pushes his tongue between the wet toes. If his heartbeat wasn’t already going a mile a minute, it certainly does upon Doc adding a third finger inside himself. Even so, Lion dedicates himself to his task, lavishes the flesh before him in attention and enjoys every second of it. His fingertips dig into muscle and massage the arch dutifully while his mouth takes care of the rest: sloppily slurping up the mess he made, lapping at each toe individually and sucking on them in succession – he doesn’t stop until it’s clean again, and even then he keeps going. Doc watches him, grateful, entranced, and when Lion finishes by placing a soft kiss on every toe, some of the tension in his features melts into appreciation again.

“I love every part of you”, Lion says, because it’s true, and smiles when Doc’s cheeks deepen in colour. Finally, finally, his lover pulls his fingers free and motions for him to come closer, and Lion wastes no time practically diving on top of the other man to smash their lips against each other. The entire length of their bodies slots together like two puzzle pieces interlocking, and all this contact is the best kind of overwhelming after having been touched so little previously – they’re constantly in motion, rubbing their legs over each other, pressing their chests closer, running hands over every bit of skin they can find, and all the while Lion slowly takes Doc apart with his tongue. He explores Doc’s mouth as if it was the first time, ravishes it with abandon and swallows all the groans coming from their stiff cocks dragging over each other.

“Come on, Olivier”, wet lips mumble against his between mind-numbing kisses, “I want you inside.”

And fuck he does not need to say this twice. Lion wrestles his better half out of his shirt and longingly eyes the sculpted chest which he’d normally lavish in attention, but with the way his dick is thrumming impatiently, he simply doesn’t have the nerve. Before he can begin to look for the lube, Doc has already slicked up his hand again and wrapped it around Lion’s shaft, making him flinch momentarily. He’s sensitive, overly so, the pressure from before and the not-quite orgasm left it raw and throbbing, yet the callouses on Doc’s fingers feel heavenly despite the slight discomfort.

It feels like an eternity with Doc letting his fist glide up and down in a pace so slow it does nothing but heighten Lion’s arousal, and the entire time they keep making out deeply, tongues dancing, lips sucking on any piece of flesh before them. This is one of Lion’s favourite pastimes – just kissing, without any specific intentions. Kissing for the sake of kissing. They’ve started a few days off by just locking lips for an hour and seeing where it gets them, and more often than not both of them end up short of breath, vibrating with anticipation and hungry for more.

Doc’s hands are even more skilful than his feet in getting Lion off, and so he actually has to grab his lover’s wrist to prevent another too-soon climax, especially when deft fingers begin massaging the underside of his head, sending jolts of pleasure through his body. They separate just long enough to hold eye contact when Lion enters him, and he’ll never get enough of watching Doc’s eyelids flutter shut when the thick head breaches him fully, of the way his mouth falls open on a silent moan. Muscles relax, features go slack, and he’s Lion’s. Wholly his. This is the moment in which Doc gives himself up, hands himself over to his lover.

He’s incredibly hot and tight, welcoming the flesh pushing inside by clenching down on it in waves and prolonging the initial slide in – not that either of them mind. Lion buries his face in the crook of Doc’s neck and just breathes, focuses on the soothing smell, the blissful feeling of becoming one with the one he loves and the aimless patterns Doc draws on his back as they both bask in each other’s presence.

“You feel good”, Doc murmurs and it’s all the encouragement Lion needed. He latches on to the skin of his lover’s neck, sucking a bruise onto darker skin, and grinds against him with deliberate motions, rubbing deep. The resulting noise is music to his ears.

For a bit, he concentrates on shallow, hard thrusts while marking Doc all over, claiming him with light bites and more hickeys, but it doesn’t satisfy either of them. Lion’s cock is aching, rearing to be put to good use, and so he gives in to the primal urge.

Rising up, he fixes Doc with a sweltering gaze and plants a last sloppy kiss on his mouth before he does the very thing he’s been wanting to do every since he stumbled over Doc all spread out on their shared bed: fuck him until he forgets which day it is.

Their moans mingle in the space between them and all Doc can do, helplessly, is scramble for purchase, hold on to Lion’s sides as he’s rocked by every brutal thrust into his welcoming hole – he looks adorable, in a way, all caught up in the ecstasy of having his sweet spot hammered. Lion drags him onto his cock by the hips, meeting him halfway with his own and slams home mercilessly, bathing in the uninterrupted stream of noises Doc creates as usual: muffled groans, disbelieving gasps, throaty moans. Lion absorbs it all, lets it fuel the pulsating desire driving him.

“Hold your feet”, he demands in between sharp snaps of his hips eliciting strangled sounds, “yes. Just like that. Fuck yes.” And there’s another spike caused by the view in front of him, by Doc grabbing his own soles and holding his legs up and apart, pink skin turned towards Lion and his heavy dick beautifully showcased again. He’s lost in the moment, in the sensations – they both are, and Lion briefly has to struggle to keep up his brutal tempo.

Since he half-came earlier, his stamina is impressive, but it doesn’t only have advantages: he’s struggling to climb, trapped in perpetual stimulation which only just isn’t enough even though Doc clamps down on him so marvellously every time he rubs over his prostate, even though Lion can feel his glans getting caught on Doc’s rim on every thrust. His hair is sweat-soaked, Doc’s skin is shiny and despite the fast movements, he’s not quite there.

Seeking that last bit of pleasure which will push him over the edge, Lion begins worshipping Doc’s body as hardly anything turns him on more quickly than being allowed to explore, adore, map out his lover’s skin. Doc stretches towards his touch, melts below his fingertips and just won’t stop growling in satisfaction while Lion strokes over the expanse of his chest, teases the erect nipples and pushes a thumb between reddened lips. But even when Lion reaches between their legs and starts jerking the bone hard cock so familiar to him, even when Doc whines and tosses his head to the side and nearly loses grip of his feet, even when he’s shuddering in overstimulation, even when Lion’s heart is so full of devotion, he can’t come yet, can’t -

In frustration, he leans in and trails his lips along the pretty feet displayed for his pleasure, captures cute toes in his mouth and wraps his tongue around them, and in return, Doc produces the most desperate keen Lion has ever witnessed him make. With the next breath, he moans out Lion’s name, and holy fuck that’s it.

Bent over the love of his life, Lion almost collapses when the first wave of pleasure races through him like a truck. He goes blind for a second, clawing at anything in reach, probably leaving more bruises, and stutters out a loud groan as his climax ripples through him with so much intensity he briefly loses himself. At the edge of his consciousness, he registers Doc writhing under him, caught up in his own orgasm, and the realisation that they’re coming together has Lion’s abdomen tense up almost painfully, heightening the relief shooting through his system as he comes deep inside. They pant together, hold on to each other as they ride it out, moving in unison and relishing their release.

They keep moving slightly while coming down, cause gentle friction and reassure each other with soft touches, and it helps ground them. Lion trusts his lover fully and so he lets loose, allows for the post-orgasmic afterglow and exhaustion to settle in comfortably without having to worry about anything. Once their breaths and heartbeats have normalised, they exchange a grin and disentangle themselves: Doc lets his legs fall, Lion pulls out and gives Doc’s spent cock a last tug, and then they stretch out next to each other, sighing and interlacing their fingers.

A minute is spent in warm silence during which they both savour their bodies’ memories, and then Doc scoots closer to nuzzle Lion’s ear, his body probably cooling down and the milky stripes covering his chest aren’t helping. “So”, he purrs, sounding smug again, “you have a foot thing, hm?”

“I didn’t even know”, Lion laughs and kisses Doc’s nose. “But I’m fairly sure it’s just your feet.”

“Flatterer.”

“As if you mind.”

“You know I don’t.” Doc seems extremely pleased with himself. “Is this going to happen every time I just want to read after babysitting our co-workers all day?”

Lion snorts and gathers the other Frenchman into a tight embrace until their hearts beat against each other and their limbs are intertwined in a way they won’t unravel even when they sleep. “Are you implying you wouldn’t want that to happen?”

And the only reply he receives is an amused grin. Which, he notes not without significant self-satisfaction, is not a no.

#rainbow six siege #doc/lion #doc #lion #fanfic #oneshot #commissions #you've made a grave mistake in indulging him doc #wait until he asks for footsie during a meeting

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holeinotomemind · 5 years ago

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Lucien: Punishment

WARNING: Smut, kink, bondage, chains, reads like a dub-con

Also posted on AO3: Here

Summary: I woke up naked, chained and blindfolded by Lucien. He was upset about something I did. If I want him to end my punishment, I must figure out what it was.

Lucien's version and part 1 of 4 of a planned punishment themed story.

Words: 4651

Waking up was difficult, as my mind was foggy and it refused to clear. My mouth felt dry and my back was sore. The bed felt different than usual, maybe even a bit lumpy. A fleeting thought about the bed appeared, but my groggy mind was unable to hold on to it. Perhaps I should get a drink, it will help me clear my head, but it felt like far too much effort to get up.

My eyes fluttered open, but instead of being greeted by the light shining in from outside my windows, all I could see was darkness. Did I sleep through the day? Was it night time already?

No. Even if it was night time, this was still too dark. Loveland City was known for its night view, the skyline filled with skyscrapers and buildings that keep their colorful lights on throughout the night. I had even produced a special report on how this affects the environment and residents of the city as a whole.

My heart started racing, anxious at the odd lack of light. I needed to move, needed to get out. Something is not right. Maybe it was just a blackout? I tried to rationalize it, but it seems too dark even for a blackout. I sat up quickly, needing to figure this out. And that’s when I heard it.

Clinks echoed.

In that instant, the fog cleared my mind completely. It wasn’t that the room was abnormally dark. I could feel it now, there was something soft pressing against my eyes and wrapping around to the back of my head. It was obstructing my vision.

I was blindfolded.

I could also feel the same softness around each of my wrists and my ankles. The ones at my wrists were a bit heavy, and when I tried to move them, the clinking sounds echoed again. I reached one hand over to touch the material circling my opposite wrist. It felt like leather... and something else. Something cold and metallic.

A chain.

My breath caught, heart pumped impossibly fast, alarmed at the possibility of what was happening. I raised my hands, seemingly loosely bound together, to take off the blindfold and froze when I heard a familiar voice.

“Ah, you are awake. Good morning.” That deep, smooth, honey-dripped voice. A voice I could recognize under any circumstances. “Looks like you had a good sleep.”

“Lucien?” I called out his name as I heard his approaching footsteps. “What’s going on?”

Calming down a bit knowing he was here with me, I moved again to pull the blindfold off, but felt his large warm hands stopping me.

“Don’t take them off.” He ordered. I could hear restraint in his voice, something I had not heard for a long time since we were officially an item.

“What’s going on, Lucien?” I asked again, this time, whispering. “Are we in danger?”

I remember Lucien picking me up after work last night, and we went back to his place to watch a movie. And then… and then nothing. I must have fallen asleep like I often do when I was with Lucien. It was a very busy week, so I was tired and looking forward to rejuvenating during the weekend. Did something happen to us while I was asleep?

“No. We are not in danger.”

As my mind tried to process why he emphasized the word “we,” his hands pull mine over my head by the leather cuffs and my back arched until my shoulders hit a wall with a soft thud. I could hear the chains jangling loudly beside my ears and then, there was a click.

“Lucien, why are you doing this?” I demanded in a panicked voice when I realized he had secured my hands to the wall behind me, and no matter how hard I yanked at them, my arms could not get free.

“Good question.” He said slowly as he ran a knuckle softly across my cheek. This time, his magnetic voice was so sweet that I felt like I just gorged on a whole box of chocolate all by myself. I shuddered.

I yanked my arms harder, struggling, trying to get out of my restraints, but all I was able to do was make the metal of the chains clang louder in my ears.

“You shouldn’t struggle like that.” He gently put his hands over my cuffed wrists. “I’ve made sure to use the comfortable ones, but if you yank on them too hard, the leather cuffs may still mar your delicate skin.”

“Please,” my voice shaking slightly at the implications of his words, “you’re scaring me, Lucien.”

“Oh? You are afraid of me now?” He was much closer to me now. I heard him whispering in my left ear and smelled the vague scent of his cologne and a hint of alcohol. Had he been drinking? I wanted to ask, but he continued. “Would you like to escape? Run away from me?”

My body trembled. I opened my mouth, but couldn’t formulate a response.

He traced a finger over my quivering lower lip, wiping away a small droplet of blood from the dry cracks. “But it’s too late. I have given you many chances before, but you have chosen to stay, have you not?”

Lucien pushed his index finger past my lips and began caressing my tongue. I could taste my own blood, but most of all, I could taste him. Reflectively, I lightly sucked on his fingertip. I heard his soft snort before he inserted a second finger in my mouth, this time a little rougher, thrusting them in and out of my mouth.

Despite being restrained by him, I could already feel my body react. Being aroused to his touch was like a Pavlovian response by my body, despite my mind’s reluctance.

By the time he withdrew his fingers, they were well coated with my saliva. I could feel his wet fingers tracing down my delicate jaw to my collarbone. As his fingers dipped lower, I belatedly realized that I was already naked. I must have been too panicked at the sudden situation before to notice.

“Your nipples,” he began again. “They are hard already.” His now slick fingers made small circles around one of them, then I felt a sudden sting.

I yelped. He had pinched it just hard enough for me to feel the pain but not truly hurt me.

“You are very sensitive today.”

I could feel my cheeks heating up at his comment. It must have been because I was blindfolded and robbed of my sight, so all of my other senses have heightened to compensate.

Lowering his head, he took my hardened nipple into his mouth and sucked hard. The borderline painful sensation had me gasping out loud. He chuckled at my reaction, and the small vibration of his lips caused by it sent a small current through my body. I called out his name.

I could hear a slight pop when he released his mouth, he blew softly at my now wet nipple before moving on to the other side, and I shuddered. Between my legs, I could feel myself dampening. I rubbed my thighs together, relishing on the slight friction at my most sensitive area.

The bed shifted a little and Lucien moved to let my arms down. I felt a slight tug on my scalp as he grabbed a fistful of my hair, angling my head towards him, his lips met mine. His kiss was slow but deep as his tongue caressed every inch inside my mouth. I moan against his mouth, and my hands reached up to his chest, grabbing on to his shirt. The chains clanged again at my every movement, reminding me I was still bound and very much at his mercy.

When he ended the kiss, I was breathless, panting, my scalp stinging from the grip he still had on my hair. And then I heard it.

The sound of a zipper opening.

My mind suddenly cleared, no longer focused the arousal I’d previously felt. Although Lucien had always been controlling in bed, whenever he wanted to try something different, he would always coax me into agreeing to it. But this was different. What he did today, chaining and blindfolding me, he had never talked about doing before. Something didn’t feel right about this.

“Wait,” I said, trying to halt him. “Lucien, please untie me. We need to talk. Why are you doing this to me?”

“Hmmm… Why, indeed.” His voice sounded deeper than before, and his grip on my hair tightened. “Shall I give you a hint?”

I nodded.

“When I went to your place on Monday, there was something under your bed.” His voice was so chilling and emotionless it made me shudder. “Something that should not belong there.”

Under my bed? Why was he looking under my bed? I was puzzled but decided to ask the more important question instead.

“Monday?” Taken aback at what he revealed, I asked. “Wasn’t that four days ago?”

If something happened at the beginning of the week, why was he bringing it up only now?

“Yes… Well, five now.” As if he could read my mind, he continued. “It is now Saturday morning, and you have the whole weekend off. No one will be suspicious if you don’t return their calls.”

“The… whole weekend?” Does that mean he was upset with me for the entire work week before he acted on it and he didn’t show any of it this entire time? And more importantly, did he plan on doing this since then?

I felt a chill down my spine at the thought of him meticulously planning all this for half of the week and all the while I didn’t have an inkling of it even though we see each other every day.

“Yes.” He paused. “So have you figured out why I am doing this now?”

I stopped to think for a moment but shook my head.

“That’s okay.” His voice back to the chilling tone. “You can have as much time as you want to think about it.”

I was about to say something more when the hand he was using to grip my hair increased its pressure and was now pushing my head down. And then, I felt the tip of his hot hard length pressed against my mouth.

Surprised at the suddenness in how it changed from talking to this, I pursed my lips closed, and my hands pushed at his trousered thighs, attempting to move away from him. Noticing my intention, his hand clenched my hair even tighter to keep me in place. He gripped my jaw with his other hand and increased the pressure of his fingers just enough to make my jaw slack and my mouth open.

Lucien gently pushed the tip of his erection into my mouth, and I had no choice but to open it wider to accommodate him. He was rarely this forceful in his attitude. Persistent perhaps, but not forceful. Instinct told me that I should not fight him on this. I wasn’t sure what else he would do if I did.

Raising my hands to wrap my fingers around the base of his cock, I flicked my tongue over the tip of his length and started to suck on it gently. I stroked his length as I took him, inch by inch, further into my mouth and I heard him let out a pleasured sigh. He loosened his grip on my hair, but his other hand remained at my jaw.

“Is this how I taught you?” His voice still chilling even though I could hear that he was breathing heavily. “How will you be able to please any man with this?”

I frowned at his scolding. Something was off in what he said, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. But this wasn’t the right time to be thinking about that. I had to concentrate. Sucking harder, I swirled my tongue around his length. He let out a groan, and I took it as encouragement.

I took his entire length in and then slowly retreated, sucking hard, gently grazing the underside with just a little bit of teeth. I could feel his body shudder, so I repeated the action over and over again until with one yell, he released his hot sticky liquid inside my mouth.

He softened inside my mouth after releasing but made no move to pull away from me. Confused, I did not dare to move an inch until I felt him stroking my throat. Only when I involuntarily swallowed every drop of his load did he withdraw from my mouth.

“Good girl.” He praised, brushing his knuckles against my cheek.

The sound of him closing his zipper indicated he probably wasn’t planning on entering me soon. I sat on my knees, unsure of what to do next. I wanted to press him about the reason why he was upset with me and about the thing that was under my bed, but it seemed like he was in no mood in making this easy.

His took hold of my wrists, and I heard the cuffs unlock, but before I was able to let out a sigh of relief, he pulled my right hand towards my ankle and once again, I heard a click. He did the same with my other hand. Click.

He pushed me back onto the bed, and this time, I found myself in the most embarrassing of positions. Arms lied on either side of my body, and my wrists cuffed to my ankles, I had no choice but to keep my knees bent, legs spread wide apart and my drenched sex completely exposed to him.

“Lucien,” I panicked at the humiliating new position. “I’m sorry for whatever that was under my bed, so, please… just release me? This is too embarrassing.”

“You don’t have to be embarrassed.” His finger traced up and down along my inner thigh as he chuckled. “You look lovely like this. Like a beautiful pinned butterfly.”

At once, I recalled the story he told me before, about the artist and the butterfly. I never heard the ending as I fell asleep before he finished, but I remembered that the artist had captured the beautiful creature, caging it in fear of losing it.

Was that what he was trying to do? Cage me?

“Besides,” he continued, voice once again in that chilling tone, “you still haven’t figured out why I’m doing this, have you?”

I shook my head no. This week had been such a hectic one that I barely had the time to do the laundry, let alone tidy up the house and look under the bed. What could possibly be there to get Lucien all upset?

“Can’t you just tell me what it was?”

“What would be the fun in that if I do?” The hand that was previously tracing my thigh moved to cup my sex, then in a mock surprised voice, he said, “Oh. You bad girl. How did you get so wet? I haven’t even done anything yet. Or did you just liked the taste of me this much?”

He parted my slick folds and slipped a long slender digit inside me with ease as if to demonstrate how ready I was for him. His finger moved in and out of me as I bit my lower lip in an attempt to stifle my moans. But Lucien never liked it when I tried to keep my voice down, and as if punishing me for trying to do so, he added a second finger and then a third.

I was no longer able to control my voice, and every time he curls his fingers inside me, stroking that most sensitive spot, my hips buckled. Tension kept building in me, and I felt like I was like a tight string ready to snap. I was close.

And then, everything stopped.

“L-Lucien!” I whimpered his name in frustration as he withdrew his fingers from my needy core.

“Oh, how forgetful of me. I promised my co-worker that I would finish compiling the research document and send it to him this morning.” He exclaimed as if nothing happened. The weight on the bed shifted, and I heard his distancing footsteps.

“You’re not going to just leave me like this are you?” I asked in horror. He can’t do this, can he? He can’t just get me to the brink of release and then just leave.

“No. I won’t be leaving you like this.” He chuckled. “I’ll be working over at my desk, so I’ll be watching you like this.”

“But Lucien, you can’t--” I started to protest.

“I won’t be able to work with you chattering though.” He walked back to me and whispered in his deep voice, “Should I gag you?”

I shut my mouth immediately, shaking my head no. I don’t want to be gagged.

“Good. Perhaps you can take this time while I work to think about what is it that you have done.” He stroked my face before walking away. The hand that he used was the same one he had thrusting in me just a minute ago, and I swore he did it on purpose so that I can smell my own arousal on my face.

Several minutes later, I heard him pull out a chair, and then he started typing on the keyboard.

I couldn’t believe this was happening. Is he really leaving me like this to do work?

My sex throbbed, burning in need for him, to be filled by him and yet there was nothing I can do. I tried to rub my thighs together for some relief, but with my ankles tied to my wrists, my legs spread, I could barely close them let alone rub them to cause the friction I so desperately needed to feel. I wiggle my hips around, hoping for something to brush my dripping sex against something, but it soon proved impossible with the position I was in.

I whimpered in frustration.

Lucien reacted by chuckling at me but did nothing else to help.

It felt like forever before my desire subsided that I could finally think straight and Lucien seemed to finally remembered that his naked girlfriend was still tied up on the bed. He walked towards me, and I felt the bed dip as he climbed on.

“So, do you have an answer yet?” He asked.

In the frustration of my throbbing desire not being satisfied, I was unable to think straight at all, let alone figure out the answer to the reason for my punishment. And yes, I realized now without a doubt that he was punishing me for something.

“Did I stand you up on a date?” I had no clue what the reason was, but I had an inkling that he wouldn’t let this go until he got an answer. So I took a stab in the dark and prayed for it to be right.

Without warning, I felt a sudden pinch on my nipple and yelped.

“Wrong answer.” He trailed his hand over my stomach and towards my sex again, reigniting my desire.

This time, he played with my clit, making small circles with just the right amount of pressure then he would flick at it before repeating the process over and over again. The mixed pleasure and pain had me thrashing my head side to side, and my hips buckling uncontrollably.

And then everything stopped again.

I opened my mouth begging for him to give me the release I was so desperate for, but he refused. “This is not how it works.”

I whimpered, frustrated as he went back to his computer to work.

Lucien had the patience of a true devil, and he repeated the process over and over again that I lost count how many times I was brought to the brink of my climax just to be left hanging as he went back to typing on his keyboard.

Some times, he would even tease me with his own erection, rubbing it against my dripping folds and sensitive clit, only to finish himself off with my hand and releasing his load on my stomach before walking away.

I felt like I would go crazy if this continued. I wracked my brain, trying to figure out the answer he was looking for but failed every time. It wasn’t because I stood him up, wasn’t because I forgot to do something I promised to do, wasn’t because I spent time with Kiro, who was the only male friend I saw in the last two weeks outside of work, and it wasn’t because I fell asleep on the couch one too many times.

My guesses got increasingly ridiculous as I got more desperate that I started listing out small insignificant things that I did in the last two weeks until I got a positive response when I yelled out “Laundry” as he was about to return to his desk once again.

“Ah, it seems like you may be starting to remember.” His voice chilled even though I was getting close to the answer he wanted.

I thought hard about my laundry, about what in my laundry could have set off Lucien. And then, it dawned on me.

“The boxers!” I rasped out.

The room was suddenly so quiet it was eerie. And then, he climbed back on the bed between my wide spread legs.

“Yes, the boxers.” He sneered. I had never heard his voice this menacing before. If I wasn’t terrified before this, I was now.

“Lucien, you’ve mistaken! The boxers were--” I tried to explain but was suddenly cut off when his hand covered my mouth, gripping my chin with his long fingers.

“Shhh… you’ve got the correct answer. Now, you can have your reward.”

I heard the sound of his belt buckle, then his zipper before I felt his hard length naked against my drenched sex. I knew I should be protesting about his hand over my mouth, but I was too desperate for him to be inside me that I simply didn’t care.

He pushed his full length inside me with one powerful thrust, and I came apart. My muscles convulsed around his cock, and my back arched as energy exploded within me. My screams of release would have been so loud if he hadn’t had his hand over my mouth.

Perhaps it was due to being taken to the brink and denied release so many times before when I finally was allowed to climax, it was the most powerful one I had ever experienced. I was left breathless and boneless that I could barely move a finger.

But Lucien wasn’t done with me.

He began to pull back, only to slowly enter me again, moving in and out of me at an excruciatingly slow pace. Having just came down from an intense climax, I appreciated the slow pace at first, but soon it was no longer enough. I yearned for him to move faster and harder in me and when he seemed to insist on keeping this pace, I ground my hips against him in an attempt to make him lose that infuriating control of his.

“Remember who is inside you right now. Remember who is giving you this intense pleasure.” He bent down to whisper in my ear.

Perhaps my plan on making him lose control worked or perhaps he had enough of torturing me, Lucien picked up his pace and began thrusting his hips in a much faster, more powerful rhythm.

He released my mouth, seemingly no longer caring if I would say something he didn’t want to hear and probably knowing that nothing coherent could come out of my mouth at this point.

I screamed his name as electricity coursed through my body once again, my back bowed and my sex clenched, milking his length inside me. In the haze of my climax, I could hear the wet slapping of our flesh mixed with the clinking sound of metals. I felt Lucien thrusting into me in short deep strokes. And then, he plunged himself deep inside me, releasing himself as he called my name.

He stayed inside me for a long time before he withdrew from me. I felt him get off the bed and heard clothes rustling before he returned to my side. Metals clanged again and I realized that he was releasing me from the wrist and ankle cuffs.

Exhausted and unable to move, I allowed him to wrap me in his arms as we lay on the bed. He took off my blindfold, so I was able to see again.

I looked around the room curiously but didn’t recognize the place.

“Lucien,” I called his name and got a non-committal sound as a reply. “Where are we?”

I felt his muscles froze and remained silent for so long that I thought he wasn’t going to answer. “This is a room in the basement of my old private lab that I don’t use anymore.”

A room in a basement with no windows that has a bed and somewhere to hook chains and handcuffs to, that sounded more like a dungeon than anything else to me.

I shivered at the thought but decided not to comment or ask further questions. I had long learned that with Lucien, some questions are better left unasked.

However, there was something else that needed to be addressed.

“About those boxers--” I started, bracing myself on my elbows so that I could look him directly in the eyes, but got immediately cut off by him again.

“If there is another man...” He said in a painful tone, holding my shoulder in an almost agonzing grip. “If you truly want to leave, I’ll let you go.”

He said he will let me go, but the look in his eyes that made me suspect otherwise. Perhaps he would let me go, because he always wanted to do the right thing when it comes to my well-being. However, I suspected that deep inside he might have wanted to lock me up just like that artist did with his butterfly.

I sighed.

“There was no other man. And you need to let me finish.” I said in a stern voice. “You remember I was telling you about this pervert that was stealing underwear of single female residents in our building a couple of weeks ago?”

He thought for a moment and nodded.

“Well, it just so happens that my company was filming an ad for boxers and we got a bunch of them from the client as gifts and research materials. So I took one home and hung it out with the rest of my laundry, hoping it will trick the pervert into thinking that a guy is living with me and would leave my underwear alone. I must have dropped it when I brought my dried laundry inside, and that was probably how it got under my bed.”

God, I couldn’t believe how stupid this misunderstanding was.

He had a shocked expression on his face, no doubt having the same thoughts about the level of ridiculousness of the situation.

“There was no other man.” I repeated, wanting to glare at him, but a yawn took over and destroyed my plans. He opened his mouth with a rare panic in his eyes and I immediately knew he was going to apologize, but I cut him off. “Shhh… I know. You can make it up to me tomorrow.”

I settled back beside him and closed my eyes, tired and exhausted from his treatment of me and the climaxes he gave me today.

I was about to fall asleep when I heard him ask, “Why didn’t you use the safe word?”

I scoff sleepily. “I felt safe enough with you.”

#mlqc #mlqc lucien #lucien #mr love queen's choice #fanfic #smut #love and producer #mr love lucien #戀與製作人 #evol x love

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comradesklaine · 5 years ago

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more!

★★★ Here I Am, Honey by luckie_dee When Blaine Anderson visits Kellerman's Mountain Home with his family in the summer of 1963, he isn't expecting anything more than days in the sun and games of croquet, but when he and his cousin Rachel meet the staff dance instructors, his plans get thrown for a loop. Blaine's family vacation might just end up being the time of his life. A Klaine Dirty Dancing AU.

Another Life by wintercreek It’s a typical Wednesday. Except for the part where Kurt’s in a suit, wearing the glasses he got last spring but usually only wears just before bed and in extreme contact solution shortages, and miming some sort of imperious dialog with an empty chair.

you go to my head by regala_electra Cuddly tipsy friends celebrating and enjoying inappropriate times together.

life tearing at the seams by regala_electra It’s amazing how the right distressed designer wear can be mistaken for something one of the dangerous kids would wear. Kurt Hummel, one of the outcasts of McKinley High, dreams of leaving Lima behind. Then Blaine Anderson transfers during Kurt's senior year.

Pavlovian by rospeaks Kurt uses kisses as positive reinforcement without even realizing it. This is very detrimental in the kitchen, unfortunately.

Somebody Kind by robotsfighting Kurt is sick; Blaine is very insistently helpful.

To the Moon and Back by idoltina Blaine Anderson is four when he decides he wants to be an astronaut.

Since The Day We Found You by robotsfighting The Hummel-Hudson house feels like home to Blaine, in a way that his own house never has.

education in harmony by blackmustache Blaine doesn't meet Kurt during his sophomore year at Dalton - but fate intervenes and makes sure they still cross paths a little later in their lives.

Lamb in The Wood by idoltina Six years after New Directions graduates from William McKinley High School, Kurt and Blaine share an apartment in New York. In the early hours of the morning, a phone call from Quinn rocks their world. • warning for character death (artie)

Intertwined and Overrun by idoltina Blaine is nineteen and home for the summer, a newly minted college sophomore. The hospital lights are blindingly bright, but the world has never been darker.

Let it Snow by santaklaine Kurt pinpoints the very moment his heart stops while on vacation at a ski resort with Blaine over the holidays. The vacation gets better after that.

Life and Times of Author B.A. Dalton by oncetwiceforevr Blaine Anderson (aka B.A. Dalton) is a writer from Los Angeles. Kurt Hummel changes him.

The Boy on The Seesaw by regala_electra He’s gay. It’s not the end of the world. He’s pretty sure of that, at least he thinks so, and he’s trying to figure it out, but deep down he always knew, even before he had a real word to put there, pinning over his heart three letters gay and the world’s changed forever. Blaine Anderson's life as seen through several memorable summers and a conversation before his 16th summer vacation.

It’s Only Time by warble_on The summer before Kurt is to leave for college in New York, he creates a way to keep close to Blaine when they’re apart.

Runner!Klaine verse by YourFairyGodfather Kurt is running his very first marathon for Reasons (and they're really good ones. Probably). Blaine is a marathon junkie with a total disregard for how good looking he is at seven in the morning (or in spandex pants). It's a good thing they're made for each other, because there are 26 more miles to the finish line.

In the Haze by oncetwiceforevr Blaine Anderson is a firefighter in NYC. One day, he meets Kurt Hummel. This is their story.

One’s Impossible, Two is Dreary by Lokei Kurt’s voice in his ear is warm and evens out all of the jagged edges on Blaine’s insides. “I’m back early from Callbacks and wanted to make sure to respond to you before it got too late. Care to explain this text?”

In Sickness and in... by flaming_muse There’s just Blaine, his hot pillow, and the heavy winter clouds pressing down on his chest. Futurefic.

Not The Boy Next Door by wordplay Blaine Anderson is a struggling musician with a new job. This is the story of everything he finds there. • fic is kinda incomplete without the images but they’re still within the pdf/epub, *here*

One Foot In Front Of The Other by apropensityforcharm 6x11 reaction. In which Blaine’s first day at NYU isn’t too great, until Elliott shows up.

History Books Forgot About Us by apropensityforcharm 6x05 reaction. Ten teeny tiny moments of beautiful, ordinary love between Kurt and Blaine. Inspired by the Heads Up game in the elevator.

★★★ Stunning and Cadaverous by rm (arem) AU. Blaine's back home in Lima because his father is dying. He meets Kurt for the first time in the Lima Bean when he accidentally spills coffee all over him. Turns out Kurt's a funeral director. But that's not really the strangest thing about either of them.

Eventually I’ll Get the Guy by mailroomorder When Blaine goes to college and moves into the dorms, there are a few things that are more difficult than expected; it's hard to jerk off when you're living in a dorm surrounded by people, and it's even more frustrating when the person you're fantasizing about is your roommate.

Extended Families by imaginentertain Blaine has an interesting relationship with his boyfriend's father

that was then; he is now by villiageidiot Now that there's Blaine, everything's different.

Ink verse by orphan_account Meet cute AU: Blaine is a florist and Kurt is a tattoo artist from the shop next door.

To Shake the Pride of Angels by Cimmerians Kurt and Blaine have never met. Until they do.

Puppy Kisses by hdarchive He’s determined to be the most romantic husband in the entire world, chocolates and roses and puppies included.

unexpected by klaineanummel Blaine Anderson was just about the last thing Professor Kurt Hummel expected out of a TA. • one of the softest blaines written i wanna cry just thinking about him

TattooArtists!Klaine verse by alilactree

On My Way (To You) by MakerOfAnarchy Blaine pines after Kurt Hummel for an entire year before fate steps in and gives him just the nudge he needed.

Encounters by orphan_account Kurt and Blaine have a one night stand at a club. Then they start to see each other randomly around the city as if some strange force keeps trying to bring them together.

The Littlest Vows by rainjoyswriting Blaine is afraid of spiders. Kurt helps.

Cooper Anderson, D.D.S. by luckie_dee Blaine has a loose tooth, and Cooper plans to use it to further his future career as an actor.

Someone Marches Brave by Lexie The aftermath of multiple elections isn't easy to handle.

Starcrossed by thefatesallow (orphan_account) It is the Fourth Quarter Quell. Kurt, the Victor of the 98th Hunger Games, is braced to return for his second year as a mentor. All he hopes for is a quick Games so he can return home and battle his nightmares until the next year. But then Blaine Anderson is reaped.

The Sky Could Be Blue by JudeAraya Relationships with the Winged are as close to illegal as can be, but when Kurt Hummel hires Blaine Anderson to walk in his runway show, neither can deny their instant chemistry.

Testers by gleeficarchivepseud (andyetilienot) Kurt and Blaine find a new way to make money on the side.

(We’ve Got) Obsessions by gleeficarchivepseud (andyetilienot) “Tested” reaction fic.

A Mild Case of Vampirism by icedwhitemocha sometimes a teddy bear is just a teddy bear. this is not one of those times.

What They Say About The Third Time by a_simple_rainbow Blaine is a cinematography student who agrees to help some classmates out with their end of semester project. Kurt is a fashion student who agrees to help his high school friend, Artie Abrams.

Hate On Me Hater by rospeaks Kurt and Blaine are fashion critics in competition with each other. • p much just pwp lmaooo

Mistaken Identity by kurtiepie "How do you accidentally do something like that?" After a long day, Blaine comes home to find that his friend and roommate Sam has accidentally set him up on a blind date.

The Tune Without The Words by FyrMaiden It's not Blaine's wings which make him special.

Down To The River by FyrMaiden Faith is an important part of Blaine's life, and he doesn't want to lose it.

Fire Forged Friends by kurtiepie "This is the worst bitter rivalry Kurt has ever been a part of." After coming to the conclusion that she would rather be fear than play nice, Rachel corrals the New Directions into a fiercely competitive new mindset. Kurt doubts her methods, but goes along with them -- until the Warbler's leading man sends him a message, telling him it's 'crucial' that he sees him.

Soothe by Ladylywrites Blaine has a nightmare and calls Kurt.

All Your Curves And Edges by Ladylywrites Set after 'Tested'; Blaine opens up a little more about his feelings in the after glow of making up.

Blaine Anderson, Guerrilla Knitter at Large by madamemonday Blaine knits!!

Nine in the Afternoon by hedgerose Growing up and growing together.

Clandestine ‘verse by DasWarSchonKaputt The first words Kurt Hummel ever says to Blaine are, “Take the shot.” (spy!klaine)

All My Numbers by sweetiejelly Eight years later, at the urging of their friends, Kurt and Blaine try speed dating. It doesn't work. Until it does spectacularly.

We Should Be Woo’d by flowerfan Sam turns to Blaine for advice on how to help Spencer woo Alistair, but Blaine and Kurt are a little busy…

want to be wanted by sxndazed "What are you afraid of?" He looks up and meets her eyes. She'll prod until he answers, but she wants him to answer without having her do so. He sighs. "I'm afraid of not being enough."

Under Your Spell(ing) by notthetoothfairy Emotionally isolated skank!Kurt approaches Blaine at a church youth group meeting, and somehow ends up with more feelings than he can handle.

And now here they are by tinysocieties “I can’t wait to read it,” Blaine says, his expression open and sincere. Kurt feels fond all of a sudden. He can already tell it’s going to be a problem.

Emotions in Limine by whenidance Lawyer!Kurt, Paralegal!Blaine

#klaine

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scatteredenthusiasm-blog · 7 years ago

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24-hour Tech Break: Reflections and Realizations from a Screenless Day

For 24-hours this weekend, I joined up with Imaginarium and took a tech break. Starting at 6pm on Friday and going until 6pm on Saturday, I turned my phone off – not “do not disturb” or airplane mode, but just completely off. I closed my computer and iPad as well and zipped them up in my workbag and put them in my closet, out of sight and relatively out of mind. During my time away from screenland, I had a few realizations that I want to share.

Before that, I do want to acknowledge one thing.

I understand that people have actual hardships in life, and that taking a 24-hour tech break is not one of them. And I know a 24-hour tech break sounds like something that would be recognized at the Millennial’s Choice Awards.

“Oh my god, is that the guy that did the 24-hour tech break?” “Wow, I can’t believe it’s him!” “I thought he died at hour 13.” “No, the doctors actually rushed in and were able to resuscitate him after the 24th. That’s why he’s the guest of honor at this year’s MCA’s.”

Anyway, you get the point. But here’s what I learned.

Silence is Golden (for real)

I didn’t realize how much of the day my attention and thoughts were being guided by noise. My typical daily routine consists of nonstop noise.

When I wake up I put in headphones first thing and listen to a podcast while I make coffee and breakfast, then I take out the headphones to write my morning journal of three pages by hand, then the headphones go back in and I clean up breakfast. Next up I swap out headphones for Spotify to play on my phone while I shower and get ready for the day, then I go headphones again and get my stuff together to head out the door. As I get in my car, I switch from headphones to my car audio, so I’m either listening to music (SiriusXM Fly channel 47, 90′s-00’s hip-hop and r&b, to be precise), or I’m making calls. My workday then consists of either interviewing people, training, staff meetings, or doing in-home sales presentations, which is pretty much me talking 80% of the time, which is just more noise. During a lunch break, or anytime between appointments/meetings, I toss the headphones back in and pick back up on a podcast. Eventually I hop back in the car to head home, so it’s back to music or phone calls. When I get home, the headphones go back in as I cook dinner, and then they come out as I eat dinner while catching up on the previous night’s Late Night with Seth Meyers (and other shows) on my DVR. As that finishes, I’m mindlessly scrolling through social media, just refreshing stuff waiting for the next little dopamine hit that is a new post, story, article, etc. To end the day, I toss the headphones back in while I do dishes, I still have them on as I get ready for bed, and then I pop them out only to fall asleep to Netflix on my iPad that is a foot away from my face, which I then wake up to 30-minutes later to find it still playing, so I close the case and go back to sleep.

Whew. That looks WAY worse typed out. From the moment I get out of bed to when I fall asleep (for the second time), it’s just noise-noise-noise-noise-noise-noise-noise-noise, with zero breaks.

My first realization during the tech break was how vital the silence was. I needed it desperately. The silence revealed to me exactly how much noise I fill my day with.

I like to think of clarity of mind as a mirror that I’m looking into. Every bit of noise throughout the day adds a little fog to it. Podcasts – fog, phone calls – fog, texts – fog, every refresh of social media – fog (and fog and fog and fog and fog). These things aren’t inherently bad on their own, but my relationship (or addiction, really) to them is unhealthy, because I let them fog the mirror all day.

The silence, however, is the only thing that would clear the mirror. Each hour of silence during the tech break was a small wipe across the mirror, until finally the fog was gone, which happened maybe at hour 17. The more fog you put on the mirror, the longer it takes to clear it.

When the mirror finally cleared, I was reminded of who I am and what I want to do with my energies that particular day. My creative juices started to flow, I had three or four short story ideas come up, and I was able to look in the mirror and see what the next right thing to do was. When the mirror is foggy, I don’t have a chance at seeing the next right thing. I’ll get an idea, but then a Facebook notification will completely derail that train of thought. With a clear mirror, I was able to think through a story idea completely uninterrupted, even sketching out a quick outline so I could return to it later.

Silence is vital, and it brings clarity along with it. I don’t mean that you have to treat your tech break like a silent retreat – you can talk to anyone you’d like in person – but when I say silence I really mean just a break in the noise of screenland, whether the screen is making noise or not. The silence recharged my batteries.

Productivity

Without the constant interruptions of noise, I was able to accomplish more tasks in my 24-hour tech break than I had done in the first two months of the year. I always have a running list of things I’d like to get done around my house on a day off, but then stuff comes up and those things get pushed aside, or I’ll start one project and then come back the next weekend and try to finish it, usually leaving it 75% done.

Over the 24-hour tech break, I did laundry (sheets, towels, clothes), reorganized my bedroom, cleaned out my car, deep cleaned my entire house (not just dusting and cleaning the floors, but like the scrubbing the shelves of my fridge kind of deep cleaning), raked leaves, pulled weeds, trimmed all my hedges, bought new succulents for inside, moved everything off my front porch, swept the floor, wiped down the furniture, and then rearranged the layout of the porch, I read 50+ pages of a book, I wrote my three morning journal pages, wrote 50% of this post (by hand, of course), I cooked, and I got rid of (donated) two trash bags full of clothes I haven’t worn since I moved into this house in 2016.

All done in 24-hours, with ~8 of those hours spent sleeping.

I don’t mind a good day or two of cleaning and organizing because I would usually catch up on podcasts or listen to music while I did those things. But without any distractions from noise or screenland, I was able to accomplish each task in about 60% of the time they would normally take because I was solely focused on that particular task.

For example, if I have headphones in while trimming hedges, I’ll come across a song I don’t want to listen to on a playlist, so I’ll get my phone out of my pocket to change songs, but then I’ll see an Instagram notification, and when I open Instagram I’ll see some new stories pop up, then I’ll comment on a friend’s story, which will remind me to text another friend back about something else, and then 10-minutes go by and I’m standing on a ladder with hedge clippers in one hand and my phone in the other, all while my playlist is now 5 songs past the one I wanted to skip in the first place. When finally get back to work on the hedges, another song will come on that I don’t want to listen to, and the cycle starts over.

(Exhale) I told you my relationship to screenland was unhealthy.

Without my phone in my pocket, I was not only able to complete the tasks much quicker, but I was also able to do them better because they had my full attention. Instead of just buying new succulents and putting them in new pots, I cleaned out all of the old pots and mixed in new dirt for the succulents I already had. At the end of the day, I was tired, but it was that good kind of tired, where you’re proud of your work.

I was at my most productive when the mirror wasn’t fogged.

Constant Contact

Last point, so I’ll make it quick.

I was stunned at how many times I would think of something that would make me reach for my phone to text a friend. The smallest thought would pop in my head, and I’d reach for my pocket for a phone that wasn’t even there because my first instinct is, “Oh, I gotta text that person about that.” I do that ALL DAY, which puts me in constant contact with so many different people. The reaction to reach for my phone was Pavlovian like.

The shirt I wore yesterday was one I bought in Encinitas last year when I was visiting my friend Luke, and I thought, “Oh, I need to send him a picture of this shirt.” Later on I was getting my golf clubs out of my car and thought, “Oh, I need to see if my friend Patty wants to walk 9-holes tomorrow because the weather is so nice.” Then I found an old jacket from college that made me think, “Oh, I need to send a picture of this to my friends because it reminds me of this thing we did back in 2009.” This routine happened over and over and over and over.

Again, texting my friends isn’t a bad thing – in fact, it may be a nice pick me up for both of us in the process. But the quick reaction to reach for my phone anytime those thoughts popped in my head scared me. It was like I was desperate to be in constant contact with a bunch of people all day, and that constant contact is going to add more and more fog to the mirror, distracting me from writing, cleaning, reading, or whatever I want to spend my energies on. Plus, each time I open my phone to send one of those texts, I’m more likely to come across something else on that shiny, 5.5” screen that will take me down a different rabbit hole, which will, in the end, make me forget to send the original text.

The break from constant contact was incredibly calming.

If you read one part, let it be this

As the clock approached 6pm, I started to get a little sad. I wasn’t ready for the tech break to be over. I wasn’t ready to return to my old way of doing things. Texts, calls, social media, emails – I knew it would all come flooding back with the press of one button. Or even worse, what if no texts came flooding in? OR, what if only one text came in and it was from the pharmacy saying that my monthly prescription was ready for pickup? That wasn’t the case, but I digress…

I loved my time off of the grid, and quite frankly, I liked no-tech Jeremy a lot better than screenland Jeremy. It reminded me of being a kid, when I could jump from task to task, pursuing whatever interested me at the moment, free of anything buzzing or lighting up in my pocket, and solely focused on what was right in front of me at that exact moment in time. I got out of my own head. The mirror was clear.

A power shift had taken place – one I was dying for and didn’t even know it. For the first time in probably a decade, I owned my phone instead of my phone owning me.

So going forward, I’ll make some adjustments to my routine: I’m going to limit the amount of time headphones are in my ears, I’ll swap out Netflix for a book before I go to sleep (because I know I don’t need to watch all of The Office for the millionth time), I will leave my phone in a different room of my house when I want to get stuff done, and I’ll continue not checking social media before noon, which I’ve been doing for Lent this year.

If you’d like to try a 24-hour tech break, here are my suggestions:

1. Do it over a regular weekend at your house, because it’s easier to analyze your habits when you are in your typical routine. If you do it outside of your routine, then you’ll have other distractions to keep you away from technology in the first place, which won’t reveal your tech instincts enough. It’s best to have as little planned as possible.

2. Get someone else to do it that doesn’t live with you, because it’s a nice little encouragement to know other people out there are doing it as well.

3. Keep a notepad with you and write down your accomplishments every time you complete one. By the end of the day, you’ll be shocked at what all you’ve done.

I know one tech break isn’t a cure all, so I’m planning on doing this once a month for the rest of the year. In the meantime, I’ll be working hard to keep the mirror clear.

3 notes · View notes

unicyclehippo · 8 years ago

Note

more supercorp please! it's so good!

part one, part two, part three, part four, part five, part six, part seven, part eight, part nine, part ten, part eleven, part twelve, part thirteen, read on ao3

normally, kara isn’t all that fond of her sun bed. forget that she’s usually shoved into it whenever she gets so much as a scratch—that has to be like, some pavlovian response or something, right? that she associates the bed with being hurt and in danger—but on top of that it’s also cramped and uncomfortable and no matter how well scientists think they’ve perfectly reproduced the effects of sunlight, it doesn’t feel the same.

this morning, there’s something different about the whole thing.

it’s, like, three in the morning and alex has taken the video recording of kara’s interrogation-interview thing with him and she’s gone back to work but not before frog marching her little sister to the room adjoining the medical bay and basically tucking her in.

“you know i still have my powers and that i’m fine, right?”

“humour me,” alex grumbles and she pulls off kara’s boots. she lays a hand on her ankle and squeezes. opens her mouth to say something and, when she hesitates, kara beams at her.

“i know, alex. look, i’m resting.” she shuts her eyes tight and turns onto her side, pillows her hands under her cheek and fakes a quiet snore. when alex laughs, kara peeks over at her, shoulders, hands, body relaxing into the bed and into the warmth the heat lamps provide. it’s not the same as the sun, not even close, but it is kind of nice. “hey, alex?”

she doesn’t look up from her tablet, swipes the overhead lights down until they’re a soft haze instead of clinically bright. she gives her sister a quiet “mhm” as she works.

“i’m, i am sorry,” kara tells her quietly. “for, you know. getting blown up and stuff. without you.” she knows alex understands what she means—not that she would ever want her sister in close proximity with a bomb. ever. but that she knows that alex worries about her, and more now that she’s supergirl, and more when supergirl flies off to do incredibly dangerous things without even telling her. “and thank you.”

alex looks over at her, dark eyes curious. “for what?”

kara shrugs. her smile turns a little shy and she rummages her feet around inside her blanket, pulling the corners out from under the bed to wrap around her legs. when she’s done getting comfortable she shrugs again. “you know. being my sister.” helping her protect lena. knowing what lena means to her. helping her. trusting her.

she gets a look—complete with narrowed eyes and a head tilt and a slow tap of alex’s index finger against the desk—and then alex makes her way over and shoves kara backwards and lays on the bed next to her. kara’s heart sinks the tiniest bit because she’s not getting under the covers which means she’s not going to stay for long but alex wraps an arm around her shoulders and leans her head against kara’s.

“your big heart is gonna get you into trouble one of these days,” alex sighs, and kara grins because alex sounds a tiny bit annoyed and mostly resigned but there’s this edge—this soft edge to her tone that’s just so enormously fond and proud and she leans into her sister’s side and smiles.

“yeah. but that’s what i’ve got you for.”

kara sleeps fitfully for a time—her interrogation keeps replaying over and over in her head, and she can’t stop wondering whether lena is awake and worrying too, and the DEO is never really the most quiet place for sleeping, and she wonders whether lena has called or messaged her but alex stole her phone to “make sure she got a proper rest”, and she wonders if she still has a job as a reporter after this week—and then she is saved.

a highly suspicious looking winn rolls a screen into her room. it’s a really big screen that he probably—almost definitely—doesn’t have any business touching let alone hooking up so they can watch netflix on it. he’s brought pillow too and “no blankets, that would be totally unprofessional obviously, kara” but he takes one half of the blanket she has twisted around her legs when she offers.

they push her bed back against the wall and lower the blinds so there’s no glare on the screen and make a little nest for themselves. kara sits, lamps on her left side only because she’s pretty sure winn doesn’t want a tan but she knows alex expects her to have her lamps on for a few more hours yet. winn crosses his legs and wraps his arms around a pillow and looks at her expectantly.

“we’re missing something,” he says thoughtfully.

“we are?”

“we are.” winn almost falls sideways to grab his bag off the floor and kara laughs when he pulls out seven microwave packets of popcorn. “am i a genius or what?” he crows and he grins, flushes only a tiny bit, when he’s treated to a no holds barred, ear-to-ear beaming kara danvers smile.

she pops two of the packets with a quick burst of heat vision and winn hands her the television remote with a flourish.

winn casts sideways glances at her every now and again, when she doesn’t laugh as generously at a joke as she usually might, and she knows he sees the way she feels a tiny bit distant but he says nothing and just offers her another packet of popcorn once she’s munched through the first and yeah. it’s good.

she cuddles a pillow and lets her worry fall away, just for a little while. the bed still isn’t really comfortable and the sunlight doesn’t feel right but it’s warm and she’s with her best friend who has gone out of his way to make her more comfortable and he’s picked a show that will make them laugh so…it’s good? really good. the perfect way to end this shit storm of a week.

“i can’t believe you watched this without me.”

“i can’t believe that you’re complaining after you got to bunk up with a super hot genius millionaire for a week.” kara pauses, handful of popcorn halfway to her lips, and she cuts a glance sideways at her friend. “what?”

“are you okay with it?”

“i—pftt,” winn laughs her comment away, flailing a hand dismissively in the air. “of course, why wouldn’t i be?” before she can suggest anything, he continues. “i mean sure, i kissed you. but you don’t like me so it’s like,” he brings his hands together before miming an explosion, complete with sound effects.

“a bomb?”

“what? no, that’s not a bo—no, i meant, like, incompatible. like, two stable agents that meet and the reaction is unstable—you know what,” winn shakes his head, “i just mean we don’t work and so i’m totally cool with you getting the girl.”

kara grins and nudges his knee with her own. “cool.”

winn purses his lips and then, with a cheeky grin, he pauses their show. “so, you’re going to tell me everything then? were you scared? was she scared? did you get to see any of her experiments? was she nice? what was the safe house like?”

“uh.” kara laughs and holds up a hand. she thinks about his questions for a moment, taking the time to tie her hair back. “i was scared, she was…” she squints into the distance, thoughtful and unable to resist the gentle way she remembers lena. “tough.”

“i’ll bet.”

“i didn’t see any experiments but she told me about something she was doing with plastic. she wants to save the world,” she breathes out, slumping back against the wall.

“so you’re both superheroes. only, she has genius level IQ and lots of money and you’ve got laser eyes and can fly.”

she laughs and grins over at him. it’s a little disconcerting when his own smile shifts and a sliver of concern embeds itself in kara’s chest. she can feel it shift and prick with each of her breaths.

“what is it?”

“it’s just…the line between superhero and—“

“winn, no,”

“i have to say it,” he tells her quietly. “you know i do. the line between hero and villain is dangerously thin. just…do you think she’s one of those luthor’s?"

“no,” she tells him, firm and a little bit sharp. “i don’t.”

“okay then.” he taps the remote against his leg and nods. “right.” they’re silent for a bit and then he’s looking at her like he wants to keep talking about it, and kara doesn’t. this isn’t a conversation she wants to have because she wants winn to like lena, and she doesn’t want to push this mistrust into a wider gap—she really doesn’t want to do that. lena doesn’t deserve that—she never has but she’s been subjected to it for so long and the least kara can do is make sure that her people aren’t going to continue that—so she takes the remote from him and presses play once more. winn settles back against the wall in a silent agreement that that is the end of that.

“and hey,” she says after a little while, “we do work, winn. as friends. and as partners,” kara says softly. she nudges him and he nudges her back. “really well.”

“duh. brains and brawn, baby! brains and brawn.” he holds up his hands at the look on her face. “don’t call you baby. got it.” they watch their show silently for a while longer. and then he says, “i’ve got your back, kara.”

“i know.”

he looks like he wants to say something more—the intent shows in his eyes and the very slight intake of breath—but instead, he scratches at his chin and turns back to the screen.

j’onn gets a handful of popcorn to the face when he walks in on them. it’s early morning—kara imagines she can feel the sun unfurling in her chest as it rises—and they moved on from funny shows to horror movies and even though they’re all enormously tacky and very lame and not nearly as scary as almost every single day being supergirl, a door opening unexpectedly sends them both into quick hysterics and j’onn is two seconds away from being hit with the popcorn bowl before he catches it.

he takes in the whole set up—kara and sitting sitting on her bed side by side, shoulder to shoulder, pillow behind their backs and over their laps, both pairs of boots kicked off onto the floor. winn’s knees are up to his chest, kara’s legs kicked out and crossed at the ankles, and they’re clutching at one another. he crosses his arms, raises his eyebrows at them. kara looks around at what he must see and sheepishly lets go of winn.

“hi, j’onn,” she says, like they aren’t using the DEO as a sleepover/movie marathon

“we didn’t think you were a murderer,” winn blurts out, and he rubs at his arm where kara slaps him. “what?”

“shh!”

“i think he knows what we’re doing,” he hisses back at her. “and did you forget he can read minds?”

j’onn continues to stare at the pair for a good long minute more before he says, to kara, “i’ve been informed that you’re supposed to be resting.”

“i am resting. look!” she gestures down to herself. “legs up.”

“legs up,” winn agrees.

“pillows fluffed.”

“expertly fluffed.”

“sunlamps on.”

“and working at top efficiency.”

“eating nutritious food,” she adds breezily. winn scrunches up his nose, not disagreeing with her exactly, not out aloud, but he gives her a disbelieving glance and only nods emphatically when she nudges him. hard.

“oh yeah, definitely. nutritious.”

“see? i’m resting.” kara shrugs, shoots j’onn a sweet, winning smile.

“resting includes sleep.”

kara frowns, a little confused. “are you giving me a bed time?”

“of course not,” he scoffs, and kara shares a sly little grin with winn. it fades when j’onn adds, “but alex might. and she’s headed this way.”

kara shrugs. with bravado she doesn’t feel, she says, “let her find me.”

“and you, agent schott?”

winn clears his throat, tugs at the tie he loosened hours ago and gives his boss a slight smile. “i’m looking after our prime consultant. vip treatment, sir.”

“right.” j’onn breathes out for a long time, a breath that just tips over into a sigh. then he turns away. “agent danvers,” he calls. “won’t you come with me to the armoury? surprise spot check.”

there’s a brief silence and, at winn’s urging, kara looks through the wall for her sister. she winces— “oh boy, it’s bad,” she whispers. “she’s got her hands on her hips.”

“oh no.”

“she’s coming this way,” kara tells him. “j’onn stopped her.”

“and?” winn asks.

“what are they doing in there?” alex sighs, and kara snorts. she laughs properly when j’onn lays a hand on her shoulder and turns her away, urges her down the hall.

“i believe they called it...resting.”

alex laughs and walks with him, shakes her head. “fine. but kara, if you’re still being stupid with winn when i get back in an hour, i’m shutting your little operation down. got it?”

she repeats the threat to winn who shrugs, waves a hand. “ah, she’s a pushover,” he tells her with the slightest quaver to his voice that means he’s one hundred per cent lying. “let’s keep watching.”

they make it to the end of the movie—it’s utterly cliche and not really gory at all. winn laughs when the bad guy is slain and kara smiles, yawning. the warmth of her sun lamps has really got to her, seeped into her, and she’s very relaxed and comfortable. she slips down the wall a little, curls into one of her pillows with another yawn.

distantly, she’s aware that winn turns off the screen. she can hear him walking around for a little while, a little louder after he tugs his boots back on, and then she feels the heavy material of her cape being draped over her. she noses her pillow, grips onto the red cloth.

later still, there’s a familiar smell. faintly floral shampoo and gunpowder and boot polish and antiseptic wash and the faintest hint of cigarettes. she smiles when alex lays a hand on her shoulder, smoothes her hair back. she thinks alex might be talking to her, mumbles something back. something soft and adoring, probably insensible. she smiles again when a thumb strokes over her temple and alex keeps a hand on her head for a moment longer. just long enough for kara to drift off, comfortable in the knowledge that she and everyone she cares for are safe.

she’s woken by a voice. not particularly loud, but it’s sharp and angry and she knows it. it’s gone before she can fully pull herself from sleep and she’s still a little foggy but she’s pretty sure, well, she’s pretty sure it came from several floors away. the garage, maybe? she comes slowly more awake as she stretches out her senses. she’s warm and doesn’t want to leave her bed, or pillow, but lena sounds upset and, when she finds her heartbeat, kara thinks she might be afraid too.

kara rolls off her bed. she floats a foot or so above the floor when her bare feet touch cool tiles and she briefly considers pulling her boots on but...she’s sleepy. and impervious to harm? and she can fly. so whatever, she doesn’t want to and she doesn’t have to. instead, she changes into the training sweats left at the end of the bed and tugs on the socks from her kara outfit—baby blue, with little dogs on them, very cute and she loves them—and she grabs her cape from where it’s pooled on the floor.

dressed, she floats out the door.

the agents in black don’t pay her any mind at all, not past quick nods. except for one, who offers her a water bottle when she settles in the centre of the command room and cocks her head to the side to listen for lena and alex.

“agent danvers said you should stay hydrated, ma’am.”

“thanks peter.” she takes it, cradles it. she rubs at her eyes with two fingers to get the sleep dust out. “do you know where she is?”

“uh, escorting a witness to a briefing room three, ma’am.”

“okay. thanks again, peter.”

she steps into the air and climbs a few levels up, to a nice interview room with the best couch in the whole of the DEO. and she should know. she’s tried all of them.

“she knows my name,” she hears peter tell one of the other agents with an excited pat and she smiles, hopping over the railing into the room. the agents mostly use it when they need a bit of shut-eye between shifts—the blinds come right down to the floor and mostly block out the sun which is good for daytime breaks. she’s going to be the most unliked person around for this but she picks up the couch and carries it down to the main floor and into briefing room three.

it’s easy enough to reposition the couch near the whiteboard—it’s not so easy to keep from falling back to sleep.

kara curls up on the couch. for a second she considers getting a coffee for lena but decides not to. it’s early, almost six am she thinks, and lena will no doubt go straight to work after whatever this is. but that doesn’t mean kara can’t try to urge her into a nap. which will be easier if she’s not jacked up on caffeine.

when winn and alex march lena into the room, lena isn’t yelling anymore—she does look angry, in a very reserved, furious kind of way that’s pretty scary, and she looks pale and tired and her hand closes tight over the straps of her purse, but she’s not yelling.

alex closes the door firmly behind her and steps around lena, crossing her arms. her back is to the couch, to kara, and kara can only just make out lena’s face over alex’s shoulder from her position.

she wants to sit up and announce herself, but a small thought occurs to her and, for reasons she can’t fully explain, she stays where she is. tucked into the couch, red cape mostly covering her on the red couch, and she sits as still as possible.

alex looks very serious and so too—perhaps for the first time ever—does winn.

none of them see her.

lena speaks first, harsh words with that lovely voice of hers.

“what the hell are you thinking, sending agents to follow me, agent danvers? hacking me?” she bites out, looking at winn who nods down to his shoes. “treating me like a criminal when i am the one who has been under attack—is that common practice, or are you just grossly lacking in anything like reasonable doubt when it’s a luthor involved?” neither of them speak and if anything, lena grows whiter and more furious. “forgive me then for thinking i had earned some small degree of trust.”

“it’s not a matter of trust. it’s a matter of proof.”

lena presses her lips tight together and kara wants to cross the room. she wants to take lena’s hand, urge her fingers open from where they dig into her palm. she wants to hold her. but her legs feel leaden and her head feels so heavy and so she lays her head more comfortably on the arm of the couch and watches her, hoping that lena can feel that kind gaze, at least.

“if you’re trying hard enough, it won’t take any great mind to twist my work into some villainous scheme. i’m all in pinpricks waiting to see what you find,” she sneers.

“miss luthor,”

“actually, i changed my mind. i have zero interest in being polite or slow about this. tell me now why i was being followed or i will tap into all that my luthor name can provide and see to it that you are shut down.”

alex tilts her head just a little and, after a beat, her crossed arms open and fall to her sides. she shakes her head a little. “you don’t mean that.”

“just try me.”

“fine. i don’t trust you,” alex admits. “yet. but kara does. you’re not going to do anything to hurt her,” she says in a masterful combination of confidence and subtle threat. “but fine. i had my agents follow you to protect you. not to spy on you.” lena stares at her for a long moment and then her chin tilts up and her eyes narrow. “i’ll swear on whatever you want,” she continues, almost gentle, “but i’d like it if you trusted when i say that kara thinks and,” she sucks in a breath before admitting, “and i do too, that you deserve protection for a little while longer. maybe even need it. she’d do it herself in a heartbeat, of course, but she’s sleeping. so i stepped in. least i can do for someone who means so much to my sister.” lena glances across at winn, who hasn’t looked up from his shoes yet, and alex nods. “he knows.”

“me?” winn glances up, looks between them. “not as much as he would like to know because someone keeps dashing off into danger before she can finish updating me but yeah, i know.”

“oh.” lena looks uncomfortable when she shifts. her flash of anger neatly diverted, she looks drained. she makes herself go on. “they weren’t spying?”

“no, miss luthor. they were for protection. if we were spying on you,” she says, and her voice warms into something almost teasing. it keeps it’s edge, though. “you would never know about it.”

lena stares at her with faintly pursed lips and careful, careful eyes. one finger draws straight, quick lines on the side of her bag where she grips at it. “and the hacking?” she asks them.

“oh that, er,” winn raises his hand. “yeah that was me. i didn’t take anything, i just wanted to check that you didn’t pay for your own assassin.” he trails off, a litle uncomfortable with that cool, intent gaze on him.

it takes a moment for his words to hit but when they do, lena flinches so minutely it’s not hard to mistake it for another sneer. “why on earth would i have done that?” she bites out in a tone so furious, the words come out clipped and her mouth is white around her lips, she’s pressing them so tight together.

“we found a transaction from a mystery money man called T. H. ROUL.”

lena considers that for a second before rolling her eyes. “how charming. and utterly stupid.”

winn nods. he steps forward—not close to lena but a little closer and she narrows her eyes at the move. “for what it’s worth, i didn’t think you had. but i had orders.”

“you didn’t.”

“no. kara made a very convincing argument.”

“she did,” lena says, just as flat. kara imagines she hears the curiosity in it still, and winn must as well because he nods.

“yeah. i asked her if you were like, that kind of luthor and she said absolutely not.”

“that’s it?” lena asks him. “she says no, and you just...believe her.”

“basically. she’s trusting, to an extreme,” winn tells her, quiet and firm, “but she’s usually right. and you’re right. you’ve earned some trust. and a chance.”

kara feels like crying. his words close around her heart like a hand squeezing, and she nods down onto the fabric of the couch in an effort to keep her tears inside. she can so easily see the openness in alex and in winn, the sincerity, and maybe even a little bit of genuine trust from both of them, maybe a little remorse for making lena thinking the worst. and better, kara knows how smart lena is. she doesn’t think lena could miss seeing it too.

“i...understand,” lena says. the words are a little cool, but they’re enough to make winn’s shoulders droop in relief. alex doesn’t show quite so much reaction as that, but she does nod to lena.

“well hey, okay, let me get kara,” winn offers, “and i can show you all what i’ve set up to get this show on the road.”

“no need,” kara interjects, quietly, and all face her wide-eyed. “good morning.”

“ex-cuse me?” alex snaps. “you’re supposed to be in bed.”

“you’re not the boss of me,” kara shoots back, and she shuffles her feet out from under her cape and, reluctantly, sets them on the cool floor. she makes her way over to lena and lays a gentle hand on her arm, just above her elbow. lena’s grip loosens on her bag and she leans into the touch, just a little. “good morning,” she says again, to lena alone. she takes her hand away, drags her fingers lightly down her arm.

“good morning.”

kara wants to hug lena—kiss her too, and maybe other tender things like hold her, like tell her she’s sorry she was scared, like wipe the eyelash from her cheek. but lena still looks stormy so kara turns instead and lifts her chin to her sister and friend.

“what have you got?”

still frowning, alex moves with winn to get everything set up on his whiteboard. kara watches for exactly two seconds before she freezes at the feel of a hand slipping into hers. lena takes a small step closer to her. the bottom of her red coat brushes against kara’s calf. she wavers closer to lena in response, incapable of stopping herself.

“you should be asleep,” lena murmurs.

“so should you.” kara drags her thumb, wonderingly, over the back of lena’s hand. when lena tilts her head toward her, kara looks over at her and is met by the most gentle smile. “w-what is it?”

“you’ve got sleep lines. i hadn’t really thought about it but i guess i didn’t think you would.” lena reaches up, strokes along one line, and kara feels her skin flush. she wants to lean in, move closer again. she holds still instead, stops her eyes from fluttering closed too. instead, she contents herself with examining lena in turn. tired, yes, and worried. and kara can still make out beyond those, some faint touch of fondness. for her. it eases a great deal of worry that has been building in kara’s chest, that look of fondness—lena is looking right at her and her eyes are dark, yes, but warm and kara imagines that she looks less worried, less afraid, now that kara is standing with her.

“you two done over there?” alex asks them, hands on hips. winn isn’t looking at them but the back of his neck is flushed. “winn is going to put up a list of suspects. no suprise, but you may recognise a couple of them.”

when the list flashes up, literally all luthor’s, lena stares blankly at alex for a time before her lips quirk up into a small smile. “funny.”

“yeah,” kara rolls her eyes. “real funny. you could be a comedian, alex.”

“i know. but seriously,” alex continues, “we’d appreciate any insight you could give us, miss luthor.”

“lena, please,” she tells alex, and kara feels the lack when lena’s hand drops from her face. “let us begin, shall we?”

“okay, so i’ve decided to go low-tech,” winn tells them, and spins the board to show print outs of thirty small faces. he brandishes three whiteboard markers. “for privacy,” he clarifies, with a quick look lena’s way. “now. we have lena.” he taps a marker on her picture and circles her face with a black marker.

“still under suspicion?” she wonders. “that’s novel.”

“what? no. we only have red and black markers because someone—and i’m not naming any names but it was kara—let all the other colours dry out.”

“i plead the tenth,” kara says primly, and crosses her arms. when winn and lena just stare at her, she rolls her eyes. “a little alien humour? you all suck.”

lena’s lips curl upwards and her eyes brighten, just a touch. “only if you ask nicely. and maybe for a few other exceptions,” she murmurs.

“uh. um.” heat rushes up kara’s neck and cheeks and she notices that winn rolls his eyes and turns away from them both.

“i’m going to finish naming all the rest of these. you two, just,” he flicks his fingers at them in a dismissal.

kara scowls at him and nods to the table, where an agent has brought in coffee and sandwiches. lena practically falls on the coffee and, when she sends kara a cautious look, kara laughs.

“i’m not going to take it from you.” she smirks. “it looks like you need it.”

“oh harsh, kara danvers. would you like some?”

“no, i’ll just drink the milk. coffee makes me jittery.” she takes the jug after lena pours the tiniest amount into her drink. “thanks.”

“of course. agent danvers, would you like a coffee?”

“huh?” alex looks up from her phone. “yeah, thanks. winn?”

“busy.”

they sit in silence for a time, and then lena lays a gentle hand on kara’s wrist. “can i ask you something?” it doesn’t sound like a question to kara’s ears—it sounds to her like lena is going to ask it no matter what and that she needs an answer. she nods. “the man you caught. what did he say?”

kara frowns. “you mean about you, right?” lena nods. “nothing. not really. and even if he had,” she tells her firmly, “i wouldn’t believe him. i wouldn’t act on that. not everyone is out to get you, lena.” she waits until lena relaxes, and then she laughs. “well, i mean, he was. he definitely was. but most people aren’t. and i’m definitely not.”

“if he didn’t say anything about me, what did he say?”

“uh, well, the usual stuff i suppose. aliens are bad, i’m going to monologue for a minute, supers are bad, humans are morally superior. that kind of thing.”

“sounds boring,” lena rolls her eyes. “i hope he didn’t do that for long.”

“it was almost refreshing, actually. to have someone be upfront about hating aliens.” kara knows she should probably flat out ask lena how she feels about aliens instead of passively skirting around the issue—because she really likes lena and she thinks it’ll probably suck massively if lena doesn’t feel the same. but in the same thought, she wants lena to know that she trusts her. and she does. about lena, well, about lena not wanting to kill her. but there’s a small gap between not wanting her dead and actively liking her. just a little one.

lena sips at her coffee delicately. kara offers her a nervous smile and lena drinks again, and lays a hand over kara’s.

“still, i’m sorry you had to listen to such a pile of drivel.”

“worth it,” kara tells her, flipping her hand up to tangle their fingers. she traces the back of lena’s hand with her other. “to make sure you’re safe.”

“alright sweet talker,” winn interrupts, clapping his hands down onto kara’s shoulders. “back to business. lena—can i call you lena?” he beams when she nods. “great. lena, i definitely confirmed that it was a luthor who made the transaction but all the finances i...absolutely had legal access to...were really entangled.”

“we’re a family,” lena tells him. “very interested in keeping our prospects alive. and to use anything just short of fraud to grow our considerable fortune.” he gulps and she smiles a sliver of a smile. “how about i help you?”

“yes. yes! okay, so i wrote down everyone’s names,” he tells them, and displays the whiteboard with a flourish. “you know every luthor’s name starts with an l?”

“tradition.”

“it’s creepy. no offense but borderline villainous.”

kara crosses her arms and scowls at her friend. “you have the exact same name as your evil dad.”

winn hesitates, before pointing at her. “you have a point.”

“and you have a very good set up here,” lena tells him, standing and making her way to the board. “may i have your pen?” he pops it into her hand and she makes a few quick marks, dashing through names. she talks as she goes. “uncles lois and luke are quite infirm, and their wives and mistresses like to spend money on themselves not on my demise. forget about them.” winn nods, shadowing her as she moves. “lisa,” she points, dashes through the name. “she’s been living out of my mother’s pocket for years. no money to speak of. cousins lisa and luc and leia are very distant, haven’t spoken in years. they never even RSVP to anything. very protective of their money too. it’s not them.”

“luc and leia?” winn laughs. “really?”

lena shrugs. “yes. i think they had an affair too.”

“really?”

“god no, but the joke never gets old.”

she dashes through their names and doesn’t seem to notice when winn turns to face kara and mouths, delighted, ‘she’s funny!’

“sorry i couldn’t help more,” lena tells them when they run out of leads. “i wish i could have helped.”

“don’t worry,” kara tells her, and she lays a hand at the small of lena’s back. “we’ll find them. i promise.” lena nods and turns into her, wraps her arms around her neck. “ready to go, then?” kara asks, just to be sure, and lena nods. “winn, alex, i’ll be back soon.”

she wraps her arms securely around lena and walks her to the main window. “you mind if we fly from here?”

“no. that’s alright. home?”

“to your apartment,” kara agrees. “unless—somewhere else?”

“can—” lena shakes her head. “my apartment is just fine. i think i’ll call jess. tell her she doesn’t have to come into work today.” kara beams and lena rolls her eyes. “yes you’ve...rubbed off on me.” it’s lena’s turn to smile then when kara falters, falls an inch in the air and holds her a little more tightly.

“lena,” kara laughs.

“yes, kara?” she murmurs, and she moves very slightly. an accident, of course, when her nose nudges gently against kara’s jawline.

“i think you’re teasing me,” she says, a little shakily, and when lena laughs against her collarbone, kara feels dizzy and hot all over and very, very happy. she floats down to lena’s balcony and lets her go, takes two quick steps backward. “i should go.”

“must you?”

“i, i think so,” kara nods. “i need to get back. make sure this is all over.” she shakes herself out of her dizzy spell and smiles shyly over at lena. “i want you safe, in a rather selfish way.”

“selfish? you?” lena lifts her eyebrows. “i’m intrigued,” she tells her, steps forward to curl her fingers around kara’s wrist, stroke her fingers.

kara fights to keep her head clear. “very selfish.” she can’t quite meet lena’s eyes as she admits, as quietly as she can with lena still able to hear her, “i’m, i like you a lot, lena. i want you safe.”

stillness, still fingers and a heart stilling in lena’s chest, is not the reaction kara expected, exactly. but it happens.

“you don’t have to say anything back.”

“no, no. thank you, kara,” lena says, and she drags her fingers away and smiles warmly at her. kara tries not to feel like there’s something missing from that smile, right at the centre of things. “i’m tired,”

“yes. rest. jess will have my head if i tire you out too much.”

“oh, i don’t share those kinds of details with my personal assistant,” lena laughs, and she laughs again when kara flushes. “you be safe too,” she insists, and kara nods.

she flies low and slow until she reaches the DEO. winn and alex are waiting for her when she returns and she slumps into a chair in front of the whiteboard and folds her arms. alex joins her, scoots her chair right up close.

“so.”

“so,” winn nods. “you know who lena left out, right?”

“yes,” kara bites. “do you really think she could?”

all three stare at the board for a while longer before winn sighs. “why are we even hesitating? my dad is a literal mass murderer. i think we all know that family doesn’t mean all that much when someone is...like that.”

alex hauls herself to her feet, lays a hand on winn’s shoulder. “so we’re in agreement?”

“well, i have to prove it first,” winn argues. “which could take a while.”

“and she knows we’re on her trail so she’ll be careful,” alex adds.

“but yes,” kara finishes. “we’re in agreement.” she stares at the last face on the board and sighs. “lillian luthor.”

#boom answered #tagging my stories #supercorp #Anonymous

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